Old Movie Week: Swing Time (1936)

Fred Astaire (Lucky), Ginger Rogers (Penny), Victor Moore (Pop Cardetti), Helen Broderick (Mabel Anderson)

Directed by George Stevens (Shane)

IMDB: A performer and gambler travels to New York City to raise the $25,000 he needs to marry his fiancée, only to become entangled with a beautiful aspiring dancer.

This week I'm doing reviews for the five old movies I watched earlier this spring in what felt like a single sitting. AMC featured Ginger Rogers as their star of the month, which meant a bazillion Fred & Ginger movies on my DVR. I was also wrapping up a proposal for my WWII romance, so I was also in the mood for Bing Crosby.

Swing Time is my favorite (so far) Fred & Ginger pairing, with tremendous caveats. I like these characters best, with Astaire playing a genuinely likable and happy-go-lucky chap. He was cavalier and dashing, without the least little bit of rancor. Rogers played Penny as a sensible young woman who becomes swept up in the charisma of this skinny stranger, but never did I get the sense that she lost sight of who she was. They fit so well together.

The dance numbers were also incredible, particularly their first duet of the picture, which takes place inside a dance studio. Lucky wants to help Penny keep her job by demonstrating how much she'd "taught" him in just one short lesson. The result is, of course, both comedic and astounding.

The "Bojangles of Harlem" number gets a lot of attention because of its use of blackface, and of course because of Astaire's virtuoso dancing. For my money, however, I couldn't stop re-watching when Fred and Penny say goodbye to one another, both of them engaged to other people. Astaire puts aside his sunny disposition and cheeky humor to dig deep for genuine sincerity. The result is incredibly sexy--the jester who needs to be taken seriously, if just once. The pair then moves into one of their best ever duets, "Never Gonna Dance," which is frustratingly not available on YouTube. WTH?

But seriously, just look at the sexy:
The driving force of the plot, however, rested on whether or not tuxedo trousers should be cuffed. Okay. Everyone laughs a great deal during the last five minutes of the film, which even had the kids asking, "Why won't they stop laughing?" Thus for likable characters and mesmerizing dance numbers, Swing Time is the best. Just don't ask much of the conflict that keeps them apart or the resolution that brings them together.

Skippyjon Jones

Earlier this week for their drama class, Juliette's first grade class performed an adaptation of the Skippyjon Jones books by Judy Schachner. They worked all semester to adapt the text to the stage, design costumes, agree on casting, set up stage directions, gather props, and learn their lines. Wednesday afternoon was the culmination of all their hard work, which they performed in front of parents and all of the students from fourth grade on down.

I was discussing with a few other mothers that, as a parent, these performances can be nerve-racking. Part of me is very keen on Juliette doing well in such scenarios so I can, quite appropriately, brag her up after the fact. But that part is considerably smaller than my desire for her to simply make it through the experience unscathed--no forgotten lines, no unintentional face-plants, no costume mishaps. My primary concern is that the event is educational and memorable for the right reasons, not permanently scarring.

Quite some buildup, isn't it? Now you're wondering what happened!

As with most events in the lives of my elementary-age children, it went just fine. Nothing incredibly spectacular, but nothing damaging either. I believe all of the students were instructed to introduce themselves using their full names. Juliette has a very big name, complete with my maiden name stuck in there somewhere, and she was intensely nervous. Thus the introduction that should've been an easy task became a big giant word jumble on stage. She ditched the whole endeavor midway through, let out a huff of air, and introduced herself as simply Juliette Lofty.

Otherwise, the play was more impressive because of the work I know they put into it than for the finished product. It was short and cute and, of course, unintentionally funny in many places. I don't believe Juliette will be a natural performer. She has the theory down, in that "when you step on stage, you're not yourself anymore." But she was still very much Juliette, only more so--a bit shy, very self-conscious, trying to be in charge, and thinking too much. To say she has difficulty sinking into a role would be quite an understatement.

She got through it, though, and learned a great deal about teamwork in particular, which has never been her strong suit. She was quite proud of how the whole thing came together. I just don't think she'll be storming Broadway anytime soon. Her talents lie in other directions.

Ilsa, however...

Friday Film: Up in the Air (2009)

George Clooney (Ryan Bingham), Vera Farmiga (Alex Goran), Anna Kendrick (Natalie Keener), Jason Bateman (Craig Gregory)

Directed by Jason Reitman (Thank You For Smoking)

IMDB: With a job that has him traveling around the country firing people, Ryan Bingham leads an empty life out of a suitcase, until his company does the unexpected: ground him.

The less I say about the ending, the better. It ruined the film for me, which is a shame because it was a lovely experience until then. Adding "gotcha" moments to character-driven dramas is not my favorite device.

But that aside, how awesome is George Clooney? Watching him come to terms with his conscience, obligations, and sticky human relationships was like watching the best of his Doug Ross/"ER" days. He has this way of dipping his head and clenching his jaw when his character is trying to hold back what he'd really like to be saying or smacking. It's decidedly sexy because what isn't said is so very intriguing. Just what would he do if he let loose? Rawr.

And for once in the history of Hollywood cinema...a love match that made sense! It wasn't just that he was paired with Vera Farmiga, an actress who is a mere twelve years younger than him--as opposed to the two decades that generally separate aging male leads from their ingenue co-stars. No, what struck me were their matched temperaments and sly, sarcastic comedic styles. Clooney and Farmiga had genuine, likable chemistry in a way that didn't zing or sizzle, but simply was. They became people I wanted to hang out with, and people I could imagine wanting to hang out with each other. That easiness between them created an old-time vibe, as if, with a few minor tweaks, this same film could've been made in the 1950s.

Anna Kendrick was very good as the newbie corporate shark who wasn't such a shark after all. I loved the women's discussion of what makes the perfect guy. Young Natalie had a hundred qualifications, while older, slightly jaded Alex had only one: "A nice smile. Yeah, a nice smile just might do it." Brilliant work there from both the performances and the writers.

But that ending. Poop on you. There is such a thing as a character arc. People enjoy it. We like to think that our two hours spent in fictional company had a purpose. Having the rug jerked out from under one's expectations is not the hallmark of a mature storyteller, but of a 19-yo nihilist who thinks the melancholy ending is more realistic. Not always, buddy.

Field Day

Monday was a very hot day by the lake, which means it topped 80F. With the breeze, however, it was deliciously perfect. What a wonderful time to play outside all day! Juliette's school hosts an annual Field Day, where everyone takes part in simple competitions such as the 100-yard dash, softball throw, jump rope contest, water balloon toss, and three-legged race. Because everyone in the school is divided into two teams, either Sissis or Kukus, it's serious grudge match time, with even the teachers and administrators getting involved.

I had volunteered to help but never received any official duties, so Ilsa and I showed up with the intention of taking in the feel of the place before heading home. Ilsa was still gripped by Wii-fever and I had work to do. But standing around means pitching in. It's just a rule. So I wound up co-supervising the softball toss, and Ilsa worked as my ball fetcher. One of the eighth grade boys threw his softball about 200 feet--I say "about" because we only had tape measures up to 115 feet, and I paced off the rest. Impressive!

Juliette won the 100-yard dash among first graders, because she's about 300 feet taller than her classmates. It's wonderful that she came away with a victory on the day. She and her partner also came in fourth in the wheelbarrow race among K-2nd students. I don't know how she did on the rest of the events because of my softball obligation, but we'll learn the results at the awards ceremony on Wednesday morning.

After all the activities we ate lunch. The students headed back to school for an afternoon ice cream, and we headed home around 2:30. Such a long day, all outside and toasting under the sun! Like I said, I wasn't expecting to be out that long, but it was such fun. It's rare to see so many people working together and having so much spirited competition and laughter at the same time. I'm glad we got to be a part of it, and I'm even more glad I remembered to bring sunscreen!

End of the Year

For anyone with kids, you know that May and June can be wacky months. Teachers want to fit in last-minute projects and final assessments, while still maintaining a somewhat regular schedule. But these final days of the school year can also be the culmination of weeks, even months of preparation for big projects. Because the girls attend two different schools (at the moment), our schedules have been packed with these activities.

On Wednesday night I attended Juliette's Spring Fling concert. Ilsa was unfit for human company that evening, and Keven wasn't feeling well, so I took my video camera and played eyes-and-ears for the family. Lucky thing I did. Juliette's segment as part of the first grade class was, quite literally, two minutes long. I would've felt horrible dragging Keven and Ilsa out to sit through a 75-minute program, 2.6% of which was Juliette-based.

On Thursday, we attended our Montessori's annual end-of-year dinner and program. The kids practice for this for months, which is how long it takes to train 30 kids under the age of six to do anything together. This time was especially bittersweet for me because Ilsa has done this for three years in a row, now as a kindergartner. Her last year! Our last year as a Montessori family! Finding great schools for our girls has been a blessing, where I don't have to worry in the least when I drop them off in the morning. I'll miss this group of teachers immensely.

It's hard to imagine that Ilsa used to be one of those antsy three-years-olds who couldn't remember song lyrics on a bet, but she must've been. This time around, however, she was one of the front-and-center kindergartners, leading the way for the rest of the class. But by no means did she display the same take-charge militaristic leadership style that Juliette exemplified last year. The two boys, Luke and James, did their part to add volume if not melody to each song.

No, Ilsa provided comic stage presence. Is anyone surprised? She totally hammed it up. Any facial expression she could add, any hand movements they'd been taught--she showed off all of them. It probably helped that we were seated at the front row of tables, so Ilsa had a clear view of Juliette and performed to her almost exclusively. If my baby girl finds melody in her voice or rhythm in her steps, she'll be a crazy theatrical threat one day.

As the school year winds down, what activities have you been roped into? What traditions are you looking forward to repeating? Are there any (*sniff*) coming to an end?

A Quick Wii-Cap

It's been less than four days since we cracked opened our brand spankin' new Wii. We've been saving since late February, and I'm fairly certain that without our progress chart, Ilsa never would've believed in the day's eventual arrival. The only problem is that she expected to be fantastic at it right away--and she is, on most events and games. But every time she lost to Juliette or me on Friday night, she got very upset.

I tried to tell her that, of the four of us, she's the one most likely to excel. Juliette's enthusiasm is only passing. She's much more interested, as usual, with her storytelling and paper crafts. Keven and I are simply never going to devote the time to becoming Wii Player Par Excellence. Ilsa, however...she's six years old and obsessed with technology.

So here we are on not-quite-Day-Four and she just earned a first place finish on Mario Kart. I'm still better than she is at my beloved Mario Kart, but only for the next 18 hours or so. By the time Linda and Trevor arrive for their visit in late June, none of us will be able to keep up with her.

The only trouble is that the second controller is acting up. It's almost entirely unresponsive, and I've done all the online tricks about how to get it working properly. I owe Nintendo a phone call later this afternoon. Then I'll be able to race Ilsa head-to-head and get my butt kicked properly.

Otherwise, my birthday was fairly low-key. Everyone was too Wii-hypnotized. I took a nap. I had ice cream cake. Life is good. Thanks to Mom & Dad, I received a gift certificate to Bath & Body works, and Karen & Art gave me a gift certificate to Kiehl's. I've already spent that one! A mystery box of Dilettante Chocolates just arrived this morning, which I suspect came from my brother and his wife. They love this brand, which tips my thinking toward them despite no identifying paperwork in the box. Chocolate gnomes! I'm off to nosh a few right now--the perfect mid-afternoon pick-me-up.

The Eleventh Doctor

I'll admit to some trepidation as we approached this, the fifth season of "Doctor Who" since its 2005 rejuvenation. I adore David Tennant. I really do. The prospect of exchanging him for a younger model left me a little...cold. My worry only increased when photos of Matt Smith began to emerge looking like the second coming of Edward Cullen (below). The last thing we need is Twilight creeping into the sacred bastion of Who-ville.

And Matt Smith does bear a certain resemblance to a human Frankenstein. He's just not very pretty!

However, I held my breath in expectation. After all Steven Moffat--the demented genius responsible for "Blink," "The Doctor Dances," and "The Girl in the Fireplace"--was in charge of casting. He wouldn't go with a new Doctor who didn't fit his genius-tinged vision for how the new season would proceed.

Any faith I had was justly rewarded. "The Eleventh Hour" gave us a taste of just how fantastic this combination of Moffat and Smith has proven. Aside from the small misstep with the jellybean-colored Daleks, this has been a tremendous season so far.

Smith plays the Doctor is a genuine alien, someone so out of touch with how human emotions work that he works on almost a childlike level. Instead of comforting Amy, at one point, he simply blurts out the truth that she's dying. His rationale is that lying to comfort her won't solve the problem. He's quick and twitchy, even a little bit dandy, and he comes across as particularly vacant--until the time comes to be utterly brilliant.

While my initial impression was that his take would be a little too close to that of David Tennant, I've since noticed more uniqueness to Smith's performances. His accent, for instance, drifts toward the Queen's English, which makes him sound very retro, almost old. He's a gentleman from the past, not a hardened Northerner (Eccleston) or a hip Londoner (Tennant). The bow tie and braces add to that old-time feel, as if Smith's relative youth was a mistake of genetics, not casting.

Karen Gillan as Amy Pond has also been incredible. She's sassy and funny, utterly down-to-earth, and just a little lost. Their chemistry is a joy to watch, and it never seems forced as it did between Tennant and Freema Agyeman's Martha.

Part of the success of this transition, to my thinking, is that everything changed. The lead actor, the producers, the sets, the companions--everything. I may always miss Eccleston and Tennant for different reasons, but this isn't their Who anymore. It doesn't have to be. The change of pace has been refreshing and so much fun.

To say I've been impressed and entertained is an understatement. I'm actively looking forward to each week's episode. Keven and I have amassed certain theories about Moffat's over-arching storyline, particularly with regard to the Two Doctors and the split in time, but I won't go into those here for fear of spoilers. This season has been so good that I don't want to ruin it for anyone. Just know that if you haven't yet met the Eleventh Doctor, you're in for a fantastic, brilliant treat.

What do you think? Where are you up to in your viewing? Have you been as impressed and entertained as I've been?

Summer Camp

This year I'll be enrolling the girls in a summer camp hosted by their school. This is the first time their school has offered full-day summer camp, which means custom made for the demands of my schedule this year. It's flexible enough so that we can take a few weeks off when Keven's parents visit in late June, and each week is themed to study animals, business, crafts, and science.

I wonder sometimes why school systems are so reluctant to move to year-round schedules. Surely other parents are left him even more of a bind then me when school lets out in early June. I may not get as many words written over the summer months, but at least I have the flexibility to stay at home with them. Holding so staunchly to an agriculturally based calendar makes no sense, especially when so many teachers and parents agree that it can take weeks to reacquaint children with schedules they've abandoned and lessons they've forgotten.

What do your summer plans look like? Have you found a place to stash your little ones for a few weeks, or will you make do it home? And if your kids are in year-round schools, are they as wonderful as I imagine they would be?

Birthday!

They say it's my birthday...We're gonna have a good time!

The Wii has arrived. We're bound for Red Lobster this evening. Let the partying commence! I'll have a full recap on Monday. Until then, I want to celebrate with some a-ha, as I've been eager to do of late. This is "Stay On These Roads," which is a bittersweet song when it comes to contemplating one's mortality. But who better to contemplate it with than beautiful Morten, a living testament to how good aging can look?

Friday Film: Sherlock Holmes (2009)

Robert Downey Jr. (Holmes), Jude Law (Watson), Rachel McAdams (Irene Adler), Mark Strong (Lord Blackwood)

Directed by Guy Ritchie (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels)

IMDB: Detective Sherlock Holmes and his stalwart partner Watson engage in a battle of wits and brawn with a nemesis whose plot is a threat to all of England.

I'm very behind on my movie reviews, but I feel obliged to keep up with them. I genuinely enjoy being able to hear someone mention a movie that I've seen and be able to return to my archives to refresh my memory--especially seeing as how I don't do that with books anymore.

Keven took me to see Sherlock Holmes as part of our February date escape to Chicago. Of course I think Robert Downey Jr. is an angelic wreck of a human being, in the best possible sense. I am utterly intrigued by how he moves and stares and sizes up the world. I always get the feeling that I'm not looking closely enough at something he would see as embarrassingly obvious.

However, this was not a Robert Downey Jr. movie, if that makes sense--not in the way that Iron Man was. This was about Holmes, about messing with and honoring a literary icon. I'll admit that I know nothing about the source material beyond the fact that Holmes' assistant is named Watson. As such I was probably the best sort of viewer for this version because liberties with the original books were never going to bother me.

I very much enjoyed how Guy Ritchie (welcome back, dude!) established very early on how Holmes thinks. The boxing scene in which Holmes sees and explains what he's about to do, all mentally in a strange slow-mo breakdown of future events, was a marvelous shorthand for how Holmes takes apart every single moment of time. He's not just present, he's present in a nearly supernatural way.

That nod toward his internal workings was then paired with the scene in which he's waiting for Watson to arrive with his fiancé. Holmes sits along at the table, his eyes jerking and twitching, as the camera cuts and cuts and cuts to all the things he's seeing. No narration this time. Just more proof that his brain is still on hyperdrive. Thus when he almost magically solves the mystery at the finale, we're not surprised. He's obviously been hard at work the whole time!

But with all of this attention to the "Holmes-ness" of the role, something of RDJr was lost. Maybe it was too serious? Too introverted? I got the same sense of extreme intelligence from his role as Tony Stark in the first Iron Man, but with heap-loads of charisma. Here, in trying to produce a stodgy, unfathomable mind, Downey shrugged out from under his usual manic charm. It was probably the best decision for the role, but I was left a little disappointed.

That left Jude Law to steal the show. I adored him back in his The Talented Mr. Ripley days, but most of that love has been erased by some truly shitty behavior over the past few years. His performance as Watson rejuvenated some of my regard for an actor who has the potential to create utterly entrancing characters. I mean...it's Watson! This is no place for stand-out performances! Apparently Law didn't get that memo. He wound up playing the companion to Downey's psycho Victorian version of the Doctor--the one who knows as much and as little as we do, which is never enough to stave off Holmes' slight touch of pity for having such an incapable intellect. As such Watson was the heart of this picture, helping us interpret and even admire Holmes and his quirks.

Mark Strong played a very heavy-handed baddie, as he's been wont to do of late. He needs a romantic comedy ASAP to stave off type-casting. Rachel McAdams played a lovely foil to Holmes, not competing with him in an outright sense but frustrating and perplexing him nonetheless. I'm curious to see where they'll be taking the relationships with the women when they embark on the sequel, primarily because the homoerotic undertones played so strongly.

Action sequences and set pieces abounded, as did quippy one-liners. I enjoyed it like crazycakes and would like to see it again. It wasn't 100% full-on Downey awesomeness, but the sum of its parts made for a decadent Victorian funhouse.

WisRWA Conference Recap

For pictures, click here to see my Facebook photo album!

Two weeks after returning home from RT, I once again traveled to another conference. Funny how some of the same faces kept showing up. I saw Barbara Vey of "Beyond Her Book," Christine Merrill, and Liz Kreger at all three events. This time, however, getting there meant only a quick trip up to Brookfield, which is twenty minutes west of Milwaukee.

I roomed with Molly Maka from the Milwaukee branch of WisRWA. She's a sweetie who may be the only person on the planet who loves "Band of Brothers" more than I do. It was her first ever conference, and she planned to pitch to Tessa Woodward of Avon and Natalie Fischer of the Dijkstra Agency. To say she was nervous...no, there aren't words. I did my best to calm her down with stories of my own first pitches--how I called Keven from inside a bathroom stall when I attended my first Nationals.

After the Board meeting, where I serve as the Published Author Network (PAN) Liaison, I attended the agent and author Q&A with Molly. I also met Harlequin Historicals author Kathryn Albright and a Milwaukee WisRWA member named Nan Dillman, both of whom had recently taken online classes from me. Small world! What was cool about attending a smaller conference like this one was that it had only one track of workshops. One room. One thing going on at a time. That meant attendance overall was quite high, and the sense of friendship was more intense. Smaller conferences serve as a reunion of sorts among friends who haven't seen each other in a year. The cut-throat competitiveness of Nationals was entirely absent.

The panel adjourned and we all convened for deserts and snacks. Locals members of the Order of St. Andrew had been recruited to liven the place with Scottishness. I wound up speaking to Natalie Fischer, who trained under my agent. We talked about Kevan, about Natalie's experiences since going solo, and about how this was her first romance conference. I told her that she shouldn't come away from it thinking that all of Wisconsin is quite so Scottish. Because of my recent successes with matchmaking at RT, I made a point of introducing her to Molly, hoping to take the edge off Molly's nerves. The two wound up happily talking, so I left them to join the other PAN members in the bar.

Welcome to the club.

That's what it felt like for me. I'd been able to announce my Pocket sale the day before, which meant everyone was offering their congratulations. Lori Handeland, whose westerns I read when I was in high school, gave me a big spontaneous hug. Molly eventually joined us when half the pubbed authors turned in early. She turned to me and said that she'd accidentally been invited to sit at the grown-ups table. Oddly, that's how I'd been feeling too, but her comment put it into perspective for me. I am one of the grown-ups now. How bizarre. We wound up staying up way to late. Molly turned in around midnight, but I closed the bar with Madison members Amy Knupp and her roommate Bobbi.

I was set to moderate a panel at 10:45, so my morning didn't need to start too early. I helped Molly prepare for her pitch and we had breakfast. The panel featuring Scott Eagan of Greyhaus and Victoria Curran, editor for Harlequin's SuperRomance. People who wanted to participate submitted the one-page opening to their manuscript choice, and the samples were read aloud in the order they were received. Scott and Victoria then offered their critiques. All live. All spontaneous.

I can't imagine how nervous the participants must have been, but for me it was an enlightening exercise. First, I'm pretty damn good at spotting the flaws and strengths. My critiques lined up almost exactly with those offered by the pros. Second, not every opinion matches. On two instances, Scott and Victoria differed radically on their evaluations. I thought that was the most interesting and useful part of the exercise, saying to everyone: look, not everyone's gonna agree.

We had lunch then, where I handed out some awards. Turns out that's part of my duties as PAN Liaison. Good thing I'm not freaked out by public speaking. I sat between Amy Knupp and Tessa Woodward, once again at the grown-ups table. Molly was radiant and ecstatic because Tessa requested a partial of her WWII story during their pitch session. Turns out Tessa's a huge "Band of Brothers" fan too. Fortuitous!

I spent the afternoon chilling, chatting, and coming to some conclusions about my next 18 months. Molly got another request from Natalie when they sat down together that afternoon, so that was all very cool. First successes! I was glad to be there for her.

After moderating a workshop by the very funny Cathy Maxwell, I participated in the book signing. I sat next to Chris Merrill, which is weird because I sat next to her way back at the 2008 book signing at Nationals when I filled in for Karen Mercury, a friend who'd gotten sick. Fast forward two years and Chris and I were chatting together again, but this time I was sitting in front of a stack of my own books. She's a huge fan of "Doctor Who" as well, so we always have something to talk about.

Afterward I traveled with Chris and two other Madison-area writers to The Safe House in downtown Milwaukee. It's a bizarre, world-famous restaurant housed in the Milwaukee Press Club, which was established in 1885. On the walls are all the signatures they've collected over the years, signed rectangles of slate that had been framed for safe-keeping. We're talking Teddy Roosevelt, William Jennings Bryan, W. H. Taft, Woodrow Wilson, Bette Davis, Liberace, Lech Walesa, and mostly recently Johnny Depp, whose signature huge just over my head. The place was the ultimate pop culture eating experience, with signed junk everywhere. So cool. I'm glad I randomly fell in with that group to have that experience.

Back at the hotel we ate fresh-baked cookies and drank brandy slushies, then headed to bed. In the morning I introduced Lori Handeland, which, again, was pretty damn incredible. Who'd have thought back when I lived in Mishawaka and checked her books out of the library that one day I'd be introducing her to a crowd of writers in Milwaukee of all places? Life is pretty unbelievable. Barbara Vey's talk on social networking was a little basic for me, but that wasn't the case for most of the attendees. Barbara has turned into a marvelous public speaker. She's very funny. When I first met her at Spring Fling back in 2008, she'd only just started "Beyond Her Blog." Now she's a staple of the romance community and obviously thriving because of it.

All good things come to an end, and this was the most purely entertaining of my three spring conferences. Experiences like this are hard to quantify as a cost-to-benefit equation. All I can think is that making personal connections with at least 40 news people I'd never met before this past weekend has got to be a good thing. For example the coordinator, Betsy Norman, asked me to speak next year...

RT Recap, Part 2

For pictures, click here to see my Facebook photo album!

Thursday was a much quieter affair. I met with Aideen O'Leary Chung, the head of Carina's promotional department, and sat with her for a while as she manned the Carina booth. I handed out a ton of the promotional postcards for SONG OF SEDUCTION. What hugely differed between RT and Nationals is that the reader truly love the bookmarks and other goodies, while at Nationals it all becomes ignorable stacks of paper.

I ducked out for a bit when I got a call from Kevan. She informed me that Lauren McKenna was interested in FLAWLESS, which signaled the start of that whole adventure. So cool. I must've had lunch, and then went to Bad Boy Bingo hosted by Victoria Dahl, Alyssa Day, and Cindy Holby. Smart Bitch Sarah was the bingo caller, announcing the numbers as "Bitches 5" and "Orgasm 69." Hilarious. Winners of each round were asked to read a sensual scene aloud. I wanted that chance! But I'd never ever won bingo before. As fate would have it, however, I was cycling into a huge bit of luck. I won bingo and got to read from Victoria's new book. So cool! And I have the ARC now--nenner nenner.

Upon meeting up with Vicki in the bar, Zoe and I just hung out for a while. Joelle called me from Chicago to say that a mystery author who shares her editor was there at RT and needed a costume for that evening's Faery Ball. The writer turned out to be a dude, Brad Parks, so I gave him my top hat. He's a stay-at-home-dad. It's gratifying to see that SAHDs behave just like SAHMs when let loose into the world--a little bewildered, a lot eager to make the use of a good time when it's presented. The four of us went out to dinner, joined by Courtney Milan, Tessa Dare, and Monica McCarty. The Faery Ball, however, was not nearly so entertaining as the Ellora's Cave monstrosity. I turned in early(ish)

The next morning was the Kensington mixer, which was a little awkward for me. I'm no longer with them, but SCOUNDREL'S KISS is still on the shelves. So I downed two free mimosas and did my best to mingle. Handing out two dozen free copies of WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS surely helped to boost my popularity. But then I took off my Kensington Author ribbon and switched out the SCOUNDREL'S KISS bookmark stuck on my name tag for one featuring SONG OF SEDUCTION and headed over to the Carina Press spotlight. Quick change!

I'd say that attendance for the spotlight was maybe 45 people--a fair bit of interest. People asked tons of questions about the company structure, what they're acquiring, and whether or not it had the full backing of Harlequin. Angela James deftly handed that question to Donna Hayes, the president of Harlequin, who was sitting in the audience. I'd take that as a yes.

Then it was time for the Carina Press luncheon. Again, I got to go in ahead because I'm one of their authors. It's the little things that make me giggle with an over-inflated sense of self-importance. Lunch was what they called "mashed potato" martinis, where we ladled mashed potatoes into martini glasses and chose from an assortment of toppings. I thought it was a cute and tasty idea--skip the silly potato skins and go straight for the carbo goodness. Angela spoke to the roughly 500 people in attendance and premiered a video that features all of our covers. All in all, a big splash. I'm curious to see how all of this prep work will bolster the launch.

I killed a few hours and then rode with our old friends Jess and Jeff to their house. Zoe had flown home and I checked out of the hotel to stay with them for the night. We had dinner at the smoke-free Dube, grabbed some groceries for breakfast the next morning, and stopped by Jeff's curling club. Curling became the theme of the evening. We watched Men with Brooms and drank "corpse reviver" cocktails. Jeff is a full-on tiki dude now with such an amazing collection of tiki-related collectibles. I was glad to have a place to drink, chill, laugh, and generally set aside the craziness of RT for a few hours. It was also wonderful to see that two good friends continue to enjoy a happy life together.

The next morning I put my professional clothes back on. Jess drove me back downtown so I could participate in the book signing before flying out. I wound up sitting next to Sophie Littlefield, another mystery writer who knew both Brad and Joelle. Weird! We kept each other company as the readers mostly preferred the heavily paranormal headliners and the vast array of erotica authors. Historicals and mysteries? Not so much for that crowd. But still, I sold half of my stock. Three hours later I was in a taxi and heading out to the airport.

I had been a little concerned about making my 4pm flight, but as the taxi driver said, "This isn't exactly JFK." I was through security in about ten minutes. After running into Monica McCarty again, I settled in to eat lunch and try not to fall asleep. My flight through O'Hare was only slightly delayed, so I finished Erin McCarthy's Hard and Fast and had a latte. I love traveling by myself! But it certainly was nice to have Keven and the girls pick me up. Although I was fairly exhausted from my excess of traveling and socializing, I consider my first trip to RT to be a stellar success. I'm already making plans for next year...

RT Recap, Part 1

For pictures, click here to see my Facebook photo album!

Ah, my long-awaited RT recap! I know you've been holding your breath. I've made a personal resolution to keep from falling behind on blog entries anymore, starting now. I used to think of this as a journal, and then as a marketing tool. It's both, of course, but in future years I'll miss the journal part the most if I slack off.

So a mere 48 hours after returning home from Chicago North's Spring Fling, I took the bus out of Kenosha and flew out of Milwaukee. No problems! I love flights like that. I connected through Cincinnati, which, quite appallingly, does not have a Skyline Chili in the terminals. Only the vastly inferior Gold Star! So no chili for me. Poo. We flew over the downtown, providing me a clear view of the building where I used to work, and then we flew over Ohio State coming into Columbus, which meant seeing another building where I used to work! I'd accidentally run into Lisa (LB Greg) while waiting to depart Cincinnati, so she and I were able to take a taxi to the hotel.

Lisa and I settled into the bar, and we chatted with Anne Calhoun until other familiar faces began to arrive: Zoe Archer (my roomie), Victoria Dahl, Lauren Dane, Ann Aguirre, Angela James, Laura Bradford, and fellow WisRWA member Liz Kreger, who I'd seen only two days previous at Spring Fling. People came and went. Maybe drinks were consumed. A drunk girl and her two man-toys came by to quiz us on how to get published in romance because they wanted to do a "real life" chronicle of their romantic romps around the world. What a bunch of flakes. People-watching was a recreational sport, especially because two other conventions were there at the hotel: some Christian businesswomen's forum, and a national association of funeral directors. I bummed two maraschino cherries off a pair of undertakers as we exited the bar.

Wednesday meant real work, and it was by far the most obligation-heavy of my days. I attended a workshop on how to write articles for RT Book Reviews, where I was able to meet the editors I've corresponded with over the past year or two. Zoe and I met up with Sherry Thomas, who was there without her roommate who couldn't attend. We sat on our panel about Unusual Historicals, which had a decent turn-out of about 20 people--especially good because we were up against Jim Butcher and Charlaine Harris.

I got roped into decorating for the Mad Hatter Tea Party, accidentally blowing off my invitation to go out to dinner with the other Carina editors and authors. I really regret that! Apparently there were unbelievable appetizers and a particularly cute waiter. Damn it! After a dinner that was obviously inferior, Zoe and I headed to the Ellora's Cave party. There w again met up with Sherry, as well as contemporary author Diana Holquist. Let the sociological observations begin!

Rumor had it that Ellora's Cave did not bring their regular Cavemen because they wanted to save them for the EC Romanticon later this year. Instead they hired local Chippendales strippers for the evening's festivities. I say they couldn't have been Chippendales because they couldn't even thrust in time to the music. Laughable. Like, literally, we laughed. But then there was open dancing for everyone, which made everything better. Zoe, Sherry and I wound up boogying with Morgan Doremus, the director of RT's website. She was the woman responsible for setting up my interview with Wendy last year. I was able to introduce her to Zoe, and the two of them had a productive chat about how to promote Zoe's "Blade of the Rose" series coming out this fall. Yay for networking! No wonder Joelle likes to match-make so much. It's a very satisfying feeling to know that my connections helped out two women I respect.

But then it was time to get ready for the Mad Hatter party. Scheduled to begin at midnight, it featured ten other historical romance authors...and me! I was pretty psyched to be in such amazing company as Heather Graham and Victoria Alexander. Dressed in my steampunk-inspired garb, I was treated to table-side service from waiters who brought me tea and little sandwiches. In the moments before they opened the doors to the hundreds of people, I signed as many cards as I could. Each author had been given a box of cards with their pictures on them, and the object was for readers to collect one from each author in order to register for a grand prize drawing. I loved that feeling of being in on something just before it happened--the same feeling I get going through "Author's Only" doors at massive book signing. Bypass crowds...feel like a superstar.

The doors opened and people flooded in. The 150 or so goody bags we'd assembled all went in a flash, but the people kept coming. There was no place for them to all sit! I'm glad I had my little table so I didn't have to wrestle with everyone. A woman stopped by the table and gushed about how much she'd loved WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS and elbowed her friend that she needed to read it too. Those same women circled the room to collect their cards, and while waiting to get entered for the prize drawings, they talked to me again. I asked the woman's friend if she happened to get a copy of WaSW in her goody bag. She hadn't, so I pulled one out of my purse and signed it for her. They were literally jumping up and down. How incredible is that?

Eventually, when all the little sandwiches had been eaten and all the tea consumed, the party disbanded. What's even better than showing up to a superstar-length line waiting for us? Being able to head out and let other people clean up! That was the best $250 I spent, which was the fee all of the participating authors paid into a joint kitty to host the party. I'd been hesitant, but now I'm so glad I took the chance. It really wouldn't have been the same RT experience without being able to be part of a reader event. So much fun!

Tomorrow, the rest of the week!

Widget!

I love these little widget things. Like a website in a mini format!

a-ha!!!

If you know nothing about a-ha, the primer on this post can be found here, wherein Huffington Post music writer Tony Sachs discusses his wife's life-long obsession with a-ha and why this particular concert tour is so momentous.

OK, that done. SCREEEEEEEEM!!!!!!!!!!

Who ever, ever, ever thought that Keven and I would get to see a-ha? We've loved them for years, with a rare marital synergy of appreciation that probably only extends to Interpol. We rarely agree on music and certainly not to this extent. I think because they're practically unknown here in the US, our adoration actually grew. It was being part of a secret club of maniacs who knew they still produced (amazing) albums after the 80s.

There's just something about moody pop music that totally grabs me. Forget angsty rock. Give me Suede or U2's darker songs or Depeche Mode or The Killers' Hot Fuss...where a synthesizers move beyond mere pop and turn into something gut-wrenching. That's what a-ha can manage, and why I like some of their Norwegian successors like Kurt Nilsen and Espen Lind. Only pretty-boy pop singers can get away with some of a-ha's songs about domestic violence and despair. It's all in there! Promise!

But that secret club quality was also our downfall. Being a-ha fans in American exile meant resigning ourselves to never being able to see them live. Aside from a one-off show they performed in New York in 2005, they haven't played a concert in North America since 1986!! The closest they came on their tour to promote Analogue was Rio de Janeiro. So the fact that Keven found out they were playing a mere hour from here, at the Riviera Theater in north Chicago, and that he managed to get us tickets is still breathtaking.

There they were!!

I was reminded of the first time I saw U2, which was at Solider Field in 1997 for their PopMart Tour. It was a strange experience, where "seeing" them meant peering at a few very tiny, tiny men at the end of a tremendously huge football field packed to the brim with people. But the impact on me was tremendous. There they were!! The music they were playing was happening in the moment!

This was a very similar sort of experience, except I was about 15 feet from the stage last night. Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, I have stolen these other people's digital photos. Why bother taking pictures of my own if the Interwebz are happy to do it for me? Same with video recordings. This woman's YouTube channel has four clips from the show we saw last night, including "Bandstand" off their new album, which was actually massively better live. I think it was the very enthusiastic drummer that made it fly. I'm hoping more people will post video over the weekend.

Anyway, this was pretty much my perspective for the show:

Every three or four songs, I would turn to Keven and yank on his arm and scream, "LOOK AT HIM!" Yes, Morten is still supernaturally handsome. He's cryogenically age-defying. Mange looked great too and seemed to be having an absolute ball. If Morten is the face and the voice of a-ha, then Mags is the heart. He wore a smile almost all night and was very into the crowd's enthusiasm. Paul was sorta Paul-like, except that he's grown into himself and his silver hair, off in his own world where guitars are very important. He's always been the esoteric one, the brain behind the lyrics and the musical direction.

They started with "Bandstand" and worked backward through time. "Summer Moved On," from their fabulous 2000 album Minor Earth, Major Sky, was hilarious. This is a song built for a falsetto athlete--one for the record books. From Wikipedia: "Morten Harket holds the European record for the longest note held in a Top 40 pop song. During the song 'Summer Moved On' Harket sustains a note for 20.2 seconds (32 measures)." He entirely duffed the lyrics to the second verse, which made me giggle because a) he laughed about it, and b) I always mess up that verse too. And then...the note! He held that bad boy! The crowd went mental, as if they'd just seen Evel Knievel jump a line of cars.

They played in reserve chronological order only up to a point. When they skipped "Early Morning" and "I've Been Losing You," I got upset. What? No! But they kinda played fast and loose with the order once they hit the 80s. "Manhattan Skyline" featured a bullhorn, and they played "Early Morning" and "And You Tell Me" as an acoustic break-down, with Paul on guitar and Mags on a little xylophone (here and here from one of the concerts in New York last week).

"The Swing of Things" gave me goose bumps--how can I sleep with your voice in my head?--and "Stay on These Roads" made me cry. When they started in on "I've Been Losing You," I was in heaven. That was the last of my absolute favorites that remained in doubt. Would they play it? Maybe not? But then they did and I was a crazy person. They followed it right up with "Cry Wolf," which found Keven and I holding hands and jumping up and down like kids. We were genuine psychos.

Keven noticed that he and I and one dude behind us were just about the only people who knew all the words. Videos from the New York shows reveal that those fans were out in force, singing along like crazy. Maybe Chicago was light on the hardcore types? Our crowd seemed like they were just waiting around all night for "Take On Me." There were quite a few younger people in the crowd, which makes me think they had no idea what was going on or how momentous the night was. Keven suggested that maybe their moms hadn't been able to find a babysitter. Ouch!

And the "we're so old" factor certainly played a part in last night. It was a time capsule of sorts, a living historical document. It was 1985, sure, but that means harkening back to my life as a nine-year-old--a little bit of a stretch. It was more about my life with Keven and the amazing thing it is to contemplate how long these men have been performing together.

This was their farewell tour, called "Ending on a High Note," and you could tell they meant it. During the rounds of applause for their encore songs--"The Sun Always Shines on TV," "Hunting High and Low," and "Take On Me"--all three repeatedly closed their eyes and just stood there, soaking in the love. These were men saying goodbye to their youth and to the days when they set the world records. (The biggest concert of all time was when they played at "Rock in Rio II" in January 1991 in front of 198,000 people.) Last night they performed to maybe 1,500, but they seemed to appreciate it no less.

I could imagine Little Big Man saying, "And thus ended my pop star period."

So how great has my week been? Wow! I'm still just amazed and utterly breathless that I got the chance to be there. I don't think I'll ever have another night like it, and I was so happy to be holding Keven's hand as we watched a trio of pop star myths made real.

FLAWLESS!

All right, it's official! I just signed with Pocket's fabulous Executive Editor, Lauren McKenna, for a two-book contract to publish my new Victorian series! FLAWLESS, the first, is set in South Africa, and SHAMELESS, the second, is set in Australia. Release date will be late 2011 or early 2012. Here's the prologue to FLAWLESS. I'm so excited that I could absolutely puke with happiness!

Quick Updates

First up, SCOUNDREL'S KISS is now available for Kindle! Yay!

Second, my friend and fellow Chicago North chapter mate Blythe Gifford and I both started out FB fan pages the same week. We currently have 84 followers each. Both of us have also written romances featuring sister heroines. So we decided to play a little game.

When we both reach 200 followers, I'll give one of her random fans my books (WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS and SCOUNDREL'S KISS) and she'll give one of my fans her books (THE HARLOT'S DAUGHTER and IN THE MASTER'S BED). So get the word out! You can win books! And you can start by "liking" our pages. Here are links to mine and hers.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

No, I'm not talking about Lemony Snicket, although we just checked the first book out of the library. Instead I'm talking about the HBO miniseries, The Pacific.

Bear in mind that Band of Brothers is one of my favorite movies of all time. It is flawless in almost every way. Keven and I were talking about its story structure and why it works so much better than The Pacific, and the results of that talk have colored how I watch this new miniseries. It's by the same people--writers, directors, producers--but the result has been radically different. I think that was intentional.

Band of Brothers is about Easy Company of the 506th PIR. Literally. It's not about any one person but about this particular company, its ever-changing membership, its experiences, the leaders who shaped it (either by greatness or by failure), and its near-mythic place in WWII. If you take Easy Company as the actual star of the show, then applying constructs such as The Hero's Journey becomes much easier. There are mentors and tests, as well as instances of accepting the call and resurrection. As such, the cohesive story of Easy is one that we as Western viewers can latch onto with comforting familiarity.

The impressionistic means of describing Easy, through profiling several different members, only serves to enhance its deeper character. Focusing on Winters, Roe, Lipton, Nixon, and others, as well as their means of interacting with one another, fosters a genuine sense of the company's authenticity. This is no cookie-cutter regiment but a living, breathing, changing organism. Its eventual success makes for a compelling narrative.

Perhaps this was accomplished so easily because of the nature of combat in the European Theater, particularly for regiments that first engaged the enemy on D-Day. There is a definite start point (June 6, 1944) and a definite end point (May 8, 1945). There are also clear-cut bad guys and good guys. Ta-dah! This is a recipe for classical storytelling.

Not so with the pesky, messy PTO. The Pacific Theater has a start date as neat as a ragged hangnail. Start with Japanese aggression against the Chinese? With the US build-up of forces in the Philippines? With Pearl Harbor? You can actually see the decision the producers had to face by how badly they handled the opening ten minutes of episode one. It may as well be a history lesson and one big admission: "We didn't know where to begin!"

That's one strike. The other strike is "Who's the villain here?" Civilian warfare in the PTO foreshadowed the difficulties American troops would eventually face in Korea and Vietnam. The territories being fought over were just that--territories, not sovereign nations. And the long, grim, disgusting nature of warfare in the PTO, not to mention how dangerous and constant the fighting was, created a distinct lack of narrative voices that could span the duration of the Pacific war. Whole regiments were destroyed, let alone individual men. Who would tell this story?

After this most recent episode, which featured Jon Seda as Sgt. Basilone, I think I've finally figured it out. The storytelling, like the Pacific war, is controlled chaos. Instead of telling the story of one particular character, namely Easy Company, it's speaking through three archetypes. These three archetypes serve as our points of entrance.

The first was Bob Leckie. His match in Band of Brothers would be David Webster. Both were thinking men who kept detailed journals of their experiences. This sort of character can be difficult to get behind, hero wise, because there's nothing overtly heroic about him. Neither man would be described as particularly adept at warfare or especially brave. Their bravery was more by way of simply enduring and doing their part. No medals. Just gritty survival, battling their fear each step of the way.

The second is Eugene Sledge. His match, to my thinking, would be Don Malarkey. He also resembles Albert Blythe in how they constantly struggle with the meaning of it all. They start out young, even cocky, and wind up haggard--worn down by long and bloody experiences, the souls jerked out of their bodies. This archetype is "innocence lost." They're the soldiers who fall the hardest from the world that was to the hell that is. If I have my guess, Sledge will have a difficult time readjusting to life outside of combat.

The third is Basilone, the man under the microscope. Despite his limited screen time, Basilone is the most intimately detailed. We know his brothers' names, how his parents' dining room looks, how he courted his wife, his bravery, his indulgence in fame. He is, quite literally, a hero. But in the end, as the camera pulls up and away from his dead body, he was just that--another dead body. From there we're intended to extrapolate the myriad lives of every other corpse at Iwo Jima.

This technique is effective but only to an extent. Eddie Izzard once described serial killers in that if you kill one person, you go to jail. If you kill five people, you get the electric chair. If you kill twenty people, you get locked in a room so doctors can study you for the rest of your days. But if you kill 1,000 people...or more...um, well done? You must get up very early in the morning!

The brain can only handle so much, like trying to comprehend graphics such as this one, which depicts the 426,000 cell phones retired every day in the US. After a while all the blood and guts--and, damn, they didn't spare a bit of that--start to blend together. We get fewer distinct images of individual carnage and more of an impression of extreme waste. It was hell. The men who survived it, and those who did not, were diverse and strange and very ordinary.

It's not been the makings of great story-telling in the classical sense. This is not the sort of miniseries one can walk away from with a feeling of accomplishment and hope. I very much doubt that was the filmmakers' intention. Not with this program. Not with this war. Instead we get chaos, confusion, very few answers, and a whole lot of dead bodies. I'm impressed. I really am. Yet it wears at the soul until all I want to do is look away. That might be disrespectful of the men who fought and died, but it just shows the real cinematic accomplishment of The Pacific. They've stripped the veneer of glory to reveal WAR. That, unfortunately, doesn't exactly make for repeat viewing material. It's just too damn upsetting.

Spring Fling Recap

After my mild panic attack on the Friday of Chicago North's Spring Fling, I managed to calm down. Jenny had trouble coming up from Illinois to pick me up, so in order to get down to the hotel before the fabulous VIP dinner (Why yes, I'm a VIP!), I just stole the car from Keven. Grocery shopping had been accomplished in advance. No worries.

I arrived in time for it to start raining. Jenny mentioned that the last two Spring Fling conferences have also been held during rain storms. I remember dragging my luggage in through a downpour in 2008! After changing for dinner I wound up eating with the lovely Joelle Charbonneau and Blythe Gifford. I know the idea of conferences is to mingle with new people, but I wasn't quite up to that yet. I needed to be buffered by my friends! Also at our table were Jade Lee, Kim Castillo and Caroline Walters, a fellow Chicago North chapter mater.

Afterward we mingled for the Librarian and Booksellers' event, where I ran into Courtney Milan and Sarah Wendell of Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. I haven't seen Courtney since she moved from Chicago to the Pacific northwest, and Sarah since the last RWA National conference. Always good to catch up with some serious smart and snarky bitches.

Eventually we joined Julia Quinn and Erica Ridley, who I finally recognized after she clubbed me with a clue-by-four. I think that over our chocolate-covered strawberry deserts the word "crepuscular" came up, as did discussions about mermaids and Harriet Klausner. Later I chatted with Golden Heart finalist Erica O'Rourke about "Doctor Who," specifically the wonderfulness of No. Eleven, and then hung out with chapter mates Barb and Rhea. They'd both taken my April workshop on elevator pitches and were happy to share their successes in delivering them. So proud!

Come the next morning I was all ready to mingle. I had breakfast with a ton of new folks, then set off to moderate Jade's fantastic workshop. I was up next, then, with my workshop on research and point-of-view. My turn-out was a little low, about twelve people, but we were up against four other workshops. I'm actually quite pleased they stuck around!

Liz appeared around lunch time, and then it was time to mingle in the lounge. Tasty adult beverages did not flow so well. The hotel staff kept shutting the bar! We wound up hanging out with two chapter mates--inspirational author Allie Pleiter and newly zombie-fied author Jesse Petersen--and made inappropriate jokes that shouldn't be repeated. Check out these two covers. Both are romances! I love this genre.

Below, I'm sandwiched with Joelle, Deb and Liz. *big kisses* Of our little Broken Writers clique, only Nancy Parra wasn't there with us for the photo because she was teaching her own workshop. She wound up getting a request from an agent, which is exciting!

Then came the book signing. I'd brought 12 copies of WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS, which was a good thing because I sold almost as many of them as I did SCOUNDREL'S KISS. One woman dragged her friend over to chat about my books and force her to buy one, and a very enthusiastic agent introduced herself so as to gush about my work. Who knew? I adore praise from high places! Lindsey Faber, an editor with Samhain, talked to me about how professional all of her pitches were--yay for the two chapter workshops I led this spring! Then Sarah came buy to get a book signed while I was on the phone with Keven. She kept him occupied with a few naughty but lovely comments about my worthiness and how she should reward me.

After buying back my author copies from the lovely Sue at Brain Snacks, I headed upstairs to deposit my swag and get changed for dinner. Liz, Deb and Joelle were all heading home, so Jenna and Allie kept me company through the evening, as did bookseller Heather Riley. I loved that, actually. It's one of those rare events that only really happens at conferences: tangential acquaintances become friends over the course of a dinner. So much fun--especially because Cherry Adair was such a hilarious speaker.

Shortly thereafter I'd run out of energy. I headed back up to the room and collapsed. I got an early start out for home the next morning, already strategizing about how I'd get everything done before flying out to RT on Tuesday morning. Overall the conference was a great success, with so many people discussing the quality of the workshops and the professionalism of our chapter. Congratulations to our chapter president, June Sproat, and the conference chair, Pamala Knight, for their wonderful achievement!