Well, perhaps disability is too strong a word, except that I do truly feel “differently-abled.” I feel somewhat hampered by it, like I stand out more than I already do by being six feet tall. And at gatherings of writers and readers, like here at the Romance Writers of America conference in San Francisco this week, I feel my “freak flag” flying especially high. I’m an extrovert. A raging, card-carrying, put-my-photo –in-the-dictionary-next-to-the-definition extrovert. And introverts—not extroverts–populate the writers world by a huge majority. Why is that a disability? Well, it sets me at a disadvantage. All you thoughtful introverts are watching, observing cunning truths of human behavior, carefully selecting your contribution to the dialogue, and I’m…well I’m yakking away like that crazy uncle everyone tolerates at Thanksgiving. I’m on my ninth story, mistaking all your quiet for consent when I’m now rather sure you all were saying to yourselves (or maybe even each other) can’t someone rein this gal in? Take her volume and drama down a notch? I’m trying—perhaps too desperately—to pull you into conversations when you all would probably rather have a root canal than make small talk with the likes of me. Really, I’m starting to think…

Thanks to FreshFiction for inviting me to blog today. Sometimes, the best laid plans blow up like a shook-up soda. I’m a suspense fan. Lisa Jackson‘s Shiver, Linda Howard ’s Cry No More, Lisa Gardner’s Hide…those books sent a shiver up my spine. But I never imagined myself as a suspense writer. In fact, my very first romance-writing attempt was a light, funny contemporary romance that is buried in the back yard where it belongs. Some books should never see the light of day, LOL! Still, the months I slaved over that manuscript were not a waste. I learned a lot. Specifically, I learned I should not be writing contemporary romantic comedy. (What was I thinking?) No problem. I tried my hand at a light, funny historical. Umm…not such a success. No matter how hard I tried to be funny, everything I wrote was dark. Very dark. And spooky. And scary. In fact, that first historical ended up as a twisty, creepy gothic. So I ran with it, and I kept writing gothics. It was easier than fighting the dark cauldron of my imagination. I guess you could say that I didn’t choose gothics, they chose me.My August release, His…

A friend at the hospital heard I was a newly published novelist and asked me if I would be calling in too “Rich and Famous” to work soon. After all, I am on a book tour! I have just published a novel! Published a novel?? Me?? Who would have dreamed it when I was slogging away in our grungy basement, or local coffee shops with the same fantastical self-image as any middle-aged mother who suddenly decides to reinvent themselves? Was this novelist thing any less outrageous than suddenly taking up yodeling or body piercing? I told my her that I would be happy merely to call in “Out of Debt and Keeping my Same Old Friends.” Unanticipated as it is, it has been a bit miraculous to be on a book tour, finally holding in my own disbelieving hands the weighty, hard back product of a decade’s worth of silent musing. If I may confess it to this anonymous audience, the only event to surpass this so far is the birth of my twins. Even my wedding paled. (Sorry, sweetie!) In my fleeting fifteen minutes of fame, I can admit that it has been glorious, and the cause of many…

Hello, everyone. My name is Jessica Barksdale Inclan, and I’m the author of a few novels, the latest BEING WITH HIM, a paranormal romance from Kensington. I am so happy to be here today at Freshfiction.com. I blog daily at www.redrom.com/, but it’s nice to have a new place to meet people. As I was thinking about what to write about to you today, I realized I didn’t want to talk about writing but reading. Writers usually are always readers first. And as that is the case with me, I relate most with being a reader. That’s what I do. That’s what I am. Reading saved me. It has always saved me. From before I could read myself, my mother’s daily and nightly reading to me saved me, kept me from thinking my own thoughts sometimes, giving me new thoughts to think about. Reading put me into worlds I had never been, worlds I wanted to go to. Reading was something I could do when all else failed. In fourth grade, I was tested at 12th grade reading level and a 2nd grade math level. Things have changed relatively little in that regard, the wide disparity still there. But then…

Thanks to Fresh Fiction for having me today. I’ve had a terrific weekend with the release and signing of my second Harlequin American Romance, The Fake Fiancée. One question I’ve been asked at book signings that tickles me is, “Why did you keep writing?” (I hope the person asks this before they’ve read my work!) If you aren’t familiar with my story, I started writing when my kids were toddlers and didn’t get published until after they became teens. During this time, I finaled in several “prominent” Romance Writers of America chapter contests, had requests from editors to whom I pitched my work at conferences, and even landed on the senior editor’s desk. All to no avail. I guess it could be called a “lucky” thirteenth year when I sold. So why did I stick with it? Stubbornness? Blind faith that someday I would sell? Well, maybe the first explanation. Because for six years, I’d lost the belief I’d ever see my work in print. Those were dark times. It wasn’t until one day when I had “people” in my head again that I realized the characters who usually inhabit my waking hours had been AWOL. Even my family commented…

I’m tickled to have the opportunity to guest blog today at Fresh Fiction. I want to start by giving a shout out to my older sister, Martha. Today is her birthday and no one deserves a happy birthday more. She’s a mom, a wife, a musician, a paralegal, an awesome aunt to my son, and she’s been a staunch supporter of my books since I started writing. (Which is why DUTY TO PROTECT, my July release from Silhouette Romantic Suspense is dedicated to her and my younger sister.) So happy birthday, Martha! Now, back to the point of my post today… I’ve been thinking a lot lately about secondary characters. Why? One reason would be because I’m giving a workshop at RWA National later this month with my friend and fellow romance writer, Winnie Griggs, titled Secondary Characters: The Good, the Bad and the Quirky. In that workshop, we explore the many functions of secondary characters and how they add depth to novels, movies and plays. For example, my family pulled out our DVD of GONE WITH THE WIND this weekend. GWTW may be Rhett and Scarlett’s story, but can you imagine this classic without Mamie? Without Melanie or… Ashley…

A young busy mother of two, I look at my twelve-year-old son and a soon-to-be nine-year old daughter and wonder, “where did the time go?” Like many parents, I often get nostalgic while looking at old photographs or remembering when they were born. Now that they are getting older, I cherish moments with them even more, realizing how fleeting time is. It’s funny because there are times when I’m feeing overwhelmed and I’ll say, “I need a break.” We’ll make plans for the children to visit relatives for while and once they’re gone, I miss them terribly. Like now, my daughter is out of town with my husband’s sister and niece. The original summer plan was for her to attend day camp along with my son, but there was a waiting list for her age group. Seeing how she was number sixty on the list, we didn’t have high hopes of her being enrolled. I’d wanted both children to attend day camp so I could write during the hours they were gone and then we could do “fun stuff” together when they came home. Well, with my daughter home with me during the days, my plans to get a lot…

Thanks so much for having me as your guest. I’m excited to have Berkley releasing SHOW AND TELL this month, the second book in a trilogy that began with THE FORTUNE HUNTER, which won the Holt Medallion for erotic romance.Here’s a little tidbit about SHOW AND TELL to whet your appetite. All her life Trinity Green has been a pleaser, first her mom and dad, then her husband. When she walks in on her husband with another woman, she realizes that trying to be the perfect wife with never a hair out of place or a smudge of makeup beneath her eyes was all for nothing. Now she’s going to indulge herself, with good food, delicious wine, and hot sex. Then she meets the perfect man under the oddest of circumstances… And Trinity also needs to get a job! That’s where my experiences working in an office atmosphere comes into play for the book. This spring I rented all the DVDs for “The Office.” You might think that show exaggerates what it’s really like, that no real boss is going to say or do stuff like that. But, swear it, they really do. I had a wonderful boss who drove…

I want to start off by thanking everyone here at Fresh Fiction for inviting me as a guest blogger today! I’m really happy to be here. So, let me ask you this: What is it we find so sexy about those sexy cops and to die for knights?? Hmm, could it be the washboard abs and the muscular arms? Or those brilliant piercing eyes that seem to look right into our souls? Maybe it’s that thick dark hair we want to run our fingers through. Or the uniform or the chain mail? Or maybe it’s more, much, much more. Could it be the many layers that comprise an alpha’s true character? You know? that command presence they have when they walk into a situation and immediately know what to do: The bad guy is apprehended, the damsel in distress is no longer in one kind of distress but now a completely different kind of distress. I think for me, what makes a guy sexy, whether he is a knight of William the Conqueror or a beat cop, is his brain. It’s all connected to how he works. How he thinks. His compassion, his take control attitude, his willingness to stand…

June 24, 2008, the release date of my debut novel, CLOSER TO FINE, has now come and gone. The birthing process is over—the novel can now live its own life (hopefully a long one). I have seen my book—my words, my ideas, my characters—in bookstores, and never have I felt such satisfaction. I feel nervous and anxious as well—I want others to read my book, to love my characters the way I do—but mostly I am just proud of myself. Publishing a book is an arduous process—one’s ego must be displaced, and one’s self-confidence must remain steadfast, despite the incredible odds of actually seeing one’s book picked up by an agent, sold to a publisher, worked over by an editor and then successfully launched into the land of commercial fiction. I was fortunate to find a terrific agent and a fantastic editor, both of whom suggested minor changes that significantly improved my novel. I was, and am, lucky in general; the odds of publishing a book these days are slim. I also possess a cadre of friends who, along with my family, have supported my grass-roots efforts to publicize the book, which is, of course, the last and hardest part…