We're taking this week off to celebrate the Fourth of July. We leave you with two videos celebrating this great American holiday. One is a great song. One is not. You decide which is which.
(What WAS that??? I don't get it and yet I can't stop watching...)
See you all back on Monday July 7th!!! Happy Fireworks!!!
The First Offenders
Naked In Death
JD Robb
Berkley
First published in July 1995
I’d like to brag that I picked up this book immediately upon
publication because I knew it’d be the start of something special. But the
truth is, I stumbled onto this series around book five. No matter. It doesn’t
change the truth: this book absolutely knocked my socks off, hooked me from the
get-go, and opened my eyes to a whole new genre I hadn’t been reading—romantic
suspense. It didn't take long for me to figure out this wasn't the usual genre offering: I'd started out with the best.
The setting (futuristic, NYC, year 2058 after the “Urban Wars”) was refreshing, as was the kick ass, take no shit, make no apologies, female protagonist Eve Dallas, a lieutenant in the New York City Police and Security Department. Add in a rich, shady, but unbelievably charismatic romantic interest/foil named Roarke, a quirky set of secondary characters who actually add to the story rather than detract from it, a plot that zipped along at warp speed, and I could not flip the pages fast enough.
At first glance this book had the typical romantic suspense
set-up: unsolved murder, cop meets suspect, more murders occur tying the
suspect to the crime, keeping the cop in contact and suspicious of suspect even
as she’s falling for him.
But that is where typical is blown all to hell.
In this darker, more violent story than the standard
romantic suspense offerings up to that point, Robb introduces us to a fractured
character. Eve Dallas’s background is trotted out first thing. A young girl
found in an alley in Dallas, TX,
at age 8, with no family, no name, no memory. The girl grows up in the foster
system and needing order in her life, becomes a cop whose personal crusade is
to stand for the dead. Even as Robb fleshes out the plot, layer by layer, the
horrors this hard-nosed female cop has witnessed never becomes trite. Eve
Dallas is haunted to the point she’s one psychiatric test away from her badge
being forcibly taken. Eve could be a pitiable character, she has few friends,
she lives in a crappy apartment, she has no life outside of her job, but she is highly aware of this. What we see in her, and what she sees in herself to some extent is...potential. So when
Eve, the woman who has nothing, meets Roarke, the man who has everything, it’s
a stroke of storytelling genius to reveal…how alike they truly are. How finding strength, love and hope in the opposite sex does not make you weak.
I’d be remiss in not pointing out that JD Robb is the
pseudonym for Nora Roberts, icon, romance writer extraordinaire, author of 170
odd books, millions of copies in print worldwide (every 90 seconds a Nora
Roberts book is purchased, how cool is that?). I’ll also confess that I am one
of the first buyers in line at the bookstore on the day the next installment in
this series is released. In my humble opinion, the “In Death” series, 29 books
in all now -- yes, 29 in thirteen years -- (Robb puts out two hardcovers a year in this series alone) is the
single best mystery/suspense series out there. Period.
But I believe that can be a double-edged sword. Because Robb
is so good, and so prolific, and the books in this series never repeat
themselves, or become formulaic, it’s easy to forget this one book elevated the
romantic suspense genre to a whole new level. When I finished it, I realized
not only was it a fantastic read, it was groundbreaking.
For me, Naked in Death will always be the gold standard for romantic suspense.
Lori~
So I got this new toy for Father's Day.
I have no photography experience whatsoever, but I've wanted a kickass camera for about ten years now and my wife finally took pity on me. So now I look like one of those camera geeks with a giant camera always slung around my neck. YAY CAMERA GEEKS!!!
Because no one wants to miss moments like this:
(She turns five today. Based on the above picture, she seems a little pissed about it. I don't know.)
Anyway, I'm too busy taking pictures of EVERYTHING to write anything meaningful today. So tell us about the newest toy you've received. Or maybe the one you still have yet to receive.
Jeff
More people would rather die than speak in public. While I've never been comfortable speaking in public, I'm not sure I'd go that far. But it's still pretty high on my list of fears. I hated leading the Friday night news meeting at the newspaper — and I knew all those people, and "all those people" only counted about six.
When I had my very first book event at a local bookstore where most of the audience was friend or family, I took a Xanax to get me through. I don't have to do that anymore, but I still get butterflies right beforehand.
Yesterday a friend told me something that made me take pause. Her husband plays in a local band, and the band has been invited to perform — at a nudist colony. His first question was whether the band had to be naked, and he was assured they didn't have to be. But the audience could be.
This takes that idea about imagining your audience in their underwear so you won't be afraid to a whole new level.
The band took the gig, but I'm not sure I could do it, stand in front of a group of people who are naked and talk about my books like I'm at any other library or bookstore event. It's not that I'm not for being naked, but there's a time and place for that and it seems like it would be rather distracting.
What about you writers out there? Would you do it? Would you do it naked?
And for you readers, what do you think?
And for all of you: What's your greatest fear?
Karen
Michelle Gagnon is a former modern dancer, bartender, dog walker, model, personal trainer, and Russian supper club performer Her next thriller, BONEYARD, depicts a cat and mouse game between dueling serial killers. In her spare time she runs errands and indulges a weakness for Scrabulous games and stale cinema popcorn.
I have a confession to make. I love big bang Hollywood blockbusters, the more chase scenes, menacing aliens, and explosions the better. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll see an indie flick…but don’t count on me to stay awake. I realize that “cinema” can give us profound insight into the human condition, and that many films are also great works of art. Those are the films that I prefer to see at home, sprawled on my couch, with a pause button and bathroom handy. But when I want to be glued to my seat in front of a three-story high screen, bring on the flying space monkeys.
We’re currently in the throes of summertime blockbuster releases. So far they’ve been a little uneven, in my opinion- but then aren’t they always- and it got me reflecting back on past summers and their disappointments. Following is a list of films that really let me down, movies I’d been eagerly anticipating for sometimes as much as a year, which then landed with a giant disheartening thud on the screen in front of me. There will be spoilers in the following passages, but keep in mind I’m doing you a favor. Trust me, you don’t want to see these films—The Sixth Sense they ain’t (btw, Bruce Willis was a ghost the whole time. But if you didn’t know that by now, you should probably return to writing manifestos in your one room cabin.)
1. STAR WARS I: THE PHANTOM MENACE
To this day, Star Wars IV remains my all time favorite film (mind you I refer to the original film, released in 1977; confusing, I know. Blame George Lucas for trying to be cute). It was one of the first non-animated movies my parents ever brought me to, and it left a deep and lasting impression. And guess what, years later when I saw it again, it still rocked. Sure, you can see strings in a few scenes, but IMHO that is still imminently preferable to those CGI monstrosities that look laughably fake. The next two in the series were good (at times, even great) and despite the Ewoks, pretty much held their own.
But then along came The Phantom Menace. Wow, that film really, truly sucked. I’m bitter, and I only waited in line for two hours to see it the day it opened…remember those people who camped out for a month beforehand? If I were among them, I would have led the torch-wielding mob to the gates of Skywalker Ranch demanding Lucas’s head. Abyssmal.
2. SIGNS
Like I said, I was a huge fan of The Sixth Sense (still am). That movie unsettled me for days. Unbreakable wasn’t as good, in my opinion, but was still a respectable showing. Then along came Signs. O.M.G. The worst part was that the first half of the film was solid: spooky, unnerving, focusing on an imminent alien invasion from the perspective of one family in rural America. I was intrigued. Then the invasion started, and the troubles began…just to hit the high points:
a) Here’s the situation: aliens are landing on or near crop circles. One of these crop circles is quite literally in your own backyard. You’re debating whether or not to flee with your family. Call me crazy, but if this ever happens, my husband and I are not putting the decision to a family vote. We will especially not allow ourselves to be outvoted by a four year-old. Not happening. Alien invasion = dictatorship in the Gagnon household.
b) Apparently the aliens have developed technology sophisticated enough to enable them to fly light years across the universe, yet they forgot to bring along basic tools. In fact, in a pinch you can lock one in a pantry. Ridiculous. How scary are they if all it takes to keep one out of your house is a latch?
c) Oh, and guess what: they also forgot their raincoats. Which would not ordinarily be a problem, except dang it, they’re horribly allergic to water. It’s lethal to them. That’s right, water: which covers roughly 71% of our planet (and 60-70% of us, personally).One good rainstorm and they have to call the whole invasion off. This was just weak. If Shymalan needed them to be allergic to something found in most households, why not baking soda? Shampoo? Or hell, dog poo?
3. THE VILLAGE
I can’t fully blame M. Night Shyamalan for this, after all, I should have known better. I should have learned my lesson after Signs and waited for the DVD, then I would only have been out $5. But no, intrigued by the red robes and fine cast of top actors, I trotted up to the ticket window and signed on for two hours of what I can only assume was intended to be a laugh-a-minute farcical comedy. For me it certainly was. The village urgently requires medicine for a dying member of the community. But whoever goes to retrieve it must be brave enough to face some sort of wolfish monsters that lurk outside the compound. So who should be sent? Why, the only blind person in the village, of course. And oh yeah, turns out this is actually taking place in the present day, not the past as you were initially led to believe. Although the fact that no airplanes or helicopters ever flew overhead, clueing people into the modern outside world, then becomes completely inexplicable. Give me this much: I didn’t even bother renting the DVD for Lady in the Water. I’m a little slow, but eventually I learn…If anyone has seen his latest offering The Happening, let me know how it was, I am still keeping my fingers crossed that he’ll manage to surprise me.
Last one (and possibly the least):
4. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
Once again, a cherished series from my childhood. I just love that Harrison Ford; someday I’ll tell you about the time I accosted him on the streets of New York, mistaking him for one of my friends’ dads. He was very nice about it. But if I ever see him again, I’m demanding an apology for the 2 hours of my life wasted on this film. Awful. The fact that the plot made no sense and that they squandered the talents of Cate Blanchett is bad enough, but this movie committed the cardinal sin of action films. It was boring. Slow-moving, dull, one of those films where you check your watch because surely it’s been two hours by now: only to discover that you still have an hour and forty-five minutes to go. Plus the final CGI scene looked like one of those early Buffy episodes, before they had much of a budget and just plunked a weird dragon monster onscreen. Everyone involved should be embarassed, particularly Mr. Ford. Maybe he has a sick relative, or a kid going to college, and just needed the paycheck. Next time I recommend signing on for a Viagra ad, it would arguably be less embarrassing.
So tell me: what are your worst cinema duds? Which two hours of your life do you want back? Or do you disagree with any of my reviews? Fire away… Best comment receives a signed, first edition of Boneyard
.
And as always, go to www.michellegagnon.com to enter drawings for an Amazon Kindle, iPod Shuffle, Amazon & Starbucks gift cards, copies of my thrillers, and other fabulous prizes. DVDs of duds not included.
Hello? Is this thing on?
Been a quiet couple weeks here in blogland. I don't know if people have started vacations or what, but it seems comments -- even from our regulars -- have dropped way off in recent weeks. So when my day to blog rolls around, I get a little panicky (great way to start your week, huh? In a total panic, thinking about the three comments you'll get). What should I write about? My personal life - triumphs and tragedies? Uh--not so much. My Midwestern Scandanavian upbringing reminds me not to complain nor to toss my insecurities out in public in any venue. I do not feel comfortable discussing my works-in-progress (and really, all the projects and deadlines pressures I'm under right now are for erotic romance titles, and I can hear the snickers for writing "those types" of books from folks who are expecting me to talk about murder and mayhem, not the dynamics of a menage relationship, putting me back at square one). Coupled with wrestling the "What the hell do I know about writing or publishing and why the hell would anyone care what I think?" school of thought and potential blog topics crumble like my mom's rhubarb pie.
I'm in limbo on this side of my writing persona anyway. Waiting for edits on my new mystery series; finished with everything for SNOW BLIND and hanging back to start the promo. On the flipside, my alter-ego is scrambling to promote an upcoming release, finish a novel, a novella, two proposals, and one set of edits...before September first. Yeah, I have some issues with balance. And it sucks I've been so busy I've been skipping yoga.
So I'm sitting here, rereading this post, watching the clock, wondering why in the hell it's taking me so long to write a post about nothing.
Then it occurred to me, all is not lost today, I could ask you FOFO's about a writing related matter, the burning question bogging down my alter-ego in her work-in-progress -- what's the sexiest song to perform a strip tease to?
Seriously. Be creative. Be helpful. Be sarcastic. But for godsake, don't be boring and say you have no idea. Come on, it'll be fun.
As Jeff mentioned yesterday, I’ve been in Vegas for a few days. Since my new book is set there, it seemed prudent to actually visit the city. The last time I was there was 12 years ago, and according to the lovely Sharon at Cheesecake and Crime — a wonderful bookstore that also has cheesecake! — Vegas changes pretty much all the time. She’s lived there 48 years, so she should know. That gave me hope that if I get something wrong, no one will really notice.
I didn’t gamble once, although my husband did win $30 at blackjack at Hooters at about 6 a.m. when my daughter and I were sleeping (he stayed on Connecticut time the whole time). I don’t like it that you can’t just toss a quarter in a slot machine anymore, that you have to use bills and get a ticket if you win. I miss the jingle-jangle of the coins dropping into the metal bins and wish they wouldn’t pipe in all that crappy music.
And Vegas isn’t cheap anymore. No more $5.99 buffets. We ate at Thomas Keller’s Bouchon at the Venetian, and it really was worth it. We also found a great Asian place at the Palazzo called Mainland, which was fantastic.
We did find an In-N-Out burger joint in Henderson. We discovered those in California two years ago and wish they’d come out East.
On Jeff’s suggestion, we tracked down the little walk-up creperie in Paris and indulged in a strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry crepe that was to die for.
It was 105 degrees pretty much the whole time we were there, so we went in the pool a few times and trekked up to Red Rock Canyon but stayed in the car for the 13-mile scenic drive. It was spectacular.
Everything is bigger in Vegas, like this gift shop.
And you can even get 15 minutes of aromatherapy oxygen pumped into your nose while getting a massage. Really bizarre.
You don’t even need to get a real tattoo, just a temporary one to take home with you for a few weeks.
Have you been to Vegas lately? (Click on pictures to see them better!)
Karen
(Karen's in Vegas, so you lucky son of a guns, get me, Jeff, a day early. So lucky.)
Last night, my daughter announced that she had to go to the bathroom and then left the room to go do that. A moment later, she began screaming and crying as if she were either being attacked by a rabid wolf or had perhaps stepped on all the old rusty razor blades I leave lying around on our floors. My wife and I both ran to the bathroom to see what exactly was going on.
She was standing next to the toilet, pointing at it like it was some sort of vile being, screaming incoherently. Turns out, as she began to unbutton her shorts, she’d dropped her ice cream cone (mint chip) in the toilet. Now I don’t know why she didn’t ask one of us to hold it for her while she used the bathroom, but for whatever reason, she decided to take it with her and the toilet then apparently reached out and took it from her.
As we cleaned everything up and attempted to pacify my daughter, my wife was on the verge of hysteria she was laughing so hard. I, however, was not laughing (as much) because I had suffered a similar childhood tragedy.
When I was exactly her age, I was sitting on the front porch eating a donut. A maple bar, to be exact. I was just sitting there minding my own business, eating my donut, when the largest dog I’d ever seen appeared in my front yard. Big, black and big. I was terrified of dogs as a kid and I was certain that the dog had shown up in my front yard to eat me. I scrambled off the porch and ran into the house, slamming the screen door shut behind me and locking it, in case the dog knew how to open doors with his massive paws.
Only I’d left my donut on the porch.
That big black futhermucking dog strolled up to the porch and ate the rest of my maple bar as I watched helplessly from behind the screen door, screaming and crying because that donut was mine and it had disappeared into the beast’s stomach before he trotted off to terrorize more donut-eating children in our neighborhood.
So I was sympathetic to the ice cream in the toilet.
Share your stories of childhood trauma.
Jeff
By Alison
Can I ask you something personal?
Certain aspects of your life, mainly those having to do with communication. Have they seemed a little... I don't know... unbelievably fucked up in the past month or so?
If you've been sending out query letters and not hearing back, if you and your closest friend or lover or mom have been misinterpreting each other's emails something awful, if that all-important deal just fell through -- or if you're like me and your GODDAMN HARD DRIVE WENT ON THE FRITZ JUST WHEN YOU WERE MAKING SOME ACTUAL PROGRESS ON YOUR GODDAMN PROPOSAL... I am happy to tell you (and me) that there's a reason for it all.
Okay, maybe not an actual reason. But something you can blame, which in my opinion is just as good.
Mercury is in retrograde.
In case you don't come from California or live in Woodstock or edit horoscopes as part of your dayjob working for a gossip magazine, here's what that means: Mercury goes into retrograde three times a year. This star position lasts around a month and, while it's said by astrologers to be a good time for introspection and meditation, it also screws all things communicative within an inch of their godforsaken lives.
So it's a good time to write... but not to make deals, network or USE YOUR GODDAMN COMPUTER because, well I just told you...
I'm not a huge believer in astrology. For one thing, I share a birthday with Willie Nelson and Eve Arden, and I really don't think the three of us have much in common. But I will say that routinely, Mercury fucks with me like you wouldn't believe. I've blogged on here before about another dreaded retrograde, during which I lost the H key on my computer and two separate friends took offense to what I thought were well-intentioned emails and all sorts of other bad things happened that I've thankfully blocked out of my mind.
This retrograde started May 26 and lasts til June 19, which, interestingly enough... is the day I'm supposed to GET MY GODDAMN COMPUTER BACK. Coincidence? I don't think so.
Anybody else feel like punching Mercury in the face?
Lori here~
Anyone read Thai? Last week I received a cool surprise in the mail: two copies of my first Julie Collins book, Blood Ties, which was recently published in Thailand.
Cool, huh?
Except...I have to wonder about the translation. I don't speak a foreign language, so that whole "this word is close to that one, but it doesn't mean exactly the same thing" is...well...foreign to me. What if they mistranslated a word, oh, like, pencil to...penis? Honest to god, it was the first time in my life I felt...illiterate.
Other things are the same, the cover for instance, except the book was released in trade paperback, rather than mass market. There's a nifty little book mark attached to the center of the book. My photo is the same, who knows if the bio is.
So, those of you who are fluent in another language...have you ever read a book in that language? How is the experience different? And for the authors who check out this blog, what were your feelings when you saw your work in another language?
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