kate rothwell

From the big effort: blog relief day raising money for Katrina victims. To the small: Alison Kent and other raising money for Larissa (I've donated a critique.) yeah, I lied about that last one being the last post. . . sue me.

Last post today. I promise. No, really, I mean it this time. From my former agent: Dear Kate: Perhaps you'd already heard that a Dutch sale of Somebody Wonderful was in the works. [nope, had no idea] Terrific news indeed. . . I've asked the editor for some information on the sale [and I doubt she'll get answers. The editor is headless-chicken busy, I hear from other sources.] I hope you've enjoyed the summer and all is well. Best, Kate's ex-agent. [who is extremely good at her job. Just way intimidating. The check is in the mail, she says.]

Kate thinks: Hey, look at all those looters. Where's the national guard? During the riots, the national guard guys were in place within hours. . . . they stood on every street corner in the city. some clicks later, This is from a site with a clear agenda. I kind of blanked out the more Outraged Bits. Why? Because it's my blog and I can. You can read the whole thing here. THE GUARD AND THE HURRICANE With many experts calling Hurricane Katrina "the worst natural disaster in US history," millions of residents of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama are in desperate need as the catastrophe deepens. Where is the National Guard, historically the shock troops who respond overnight to natural disasters and provide the backbone of relief efforts until recovery is underway? . . . . . .Do a Google search for "National Guard" and "Katrina" and you will find dozens of stories with headlines like "National Guard: Enough GIs for Storm Duty." The re

More broadcast and print journalists have been killed during the Iraq war than during the entire 20 years of the Vietnam War, according to the Paris-based Reporters Without Borders. The latest casualty, it said, was a soundman for Reuters TV News, who was shot by U.S. soldiers in Baghdad on Sunday, bringing to 66 the number of journalists and their assistants who have been killed since 2003. (A Reuters cameraman accompanying the soundman was wounded in the incident.) Sixty-three journalists were killed in Vietnam between 1955 and 1975. from here.

I met my new main character today. No, strike that--I've known variations of him for six years. But I finally figured out the basic background of my new hero in the book I'm writing. He'll contain a big shot of Mehudin and other refugee kids I've met. Mehudin is 8 years old and the only one in his rather large family who speaks English. It's had an interesting effect on him--sort of typical from what I've seen. He's cocky as hell and thinks he's the smartest one in his family. Yet he's pretty sensitive to what other people say because he has to listen to both sides of every conversation carefully and make sure he has the words right in both languages. He gets dragged to many boring places and only gets to act like a kid now and then. The rest of the time he has to work at making sure everyone around them understands his parents and grandparents. His family's survival depends on it and he resents the job at the same time he's proud of his

The stories are stuck, so I'm playing with posting junk. Here's a place with a photos of the boys and me and the dog. Maybe?

I suppose it's because I slept for a few days. Hell, when you lose chunks of your life to drugs, the substances you take are supposed to be fun and illegal or at least interesting. Hunter S Thompson varieties, not your aunt Sadie's drugs. Bah. Speaking of addiction, Miss Snark is fantastic the last couple of days. She reads a page of a submission and makes comments. Lots of cutting to the point. Nothing particularly revolutionary...Start with action, dump the backstory blah blah blah... it's just that the examples she gives in her blog are beautifully clear. I don't always agree with her but she sure is good at communicating her preferences. I wish she were my agent or critique partner. On top of everything else? Get this: She actually answered an email the same day I sent it. Unbelievable. I have an agent. She's been with Writer's House for six years and is striking out on her own. The woman just had a baby and is now starting a new business? Hmmmm. Walks li

Lordy Lord, I have seen the future and it's scarier than those computer generated book covers. Click on the cover and see the story of Bride Most Begrudging . I'm sorry, but I lost it at the "sold as a bride" frame. The gawping dudes at the auction were too much for me. And the plucked brown eyebrows with the red hair. Oh. Gah. I overloaded. The friend who sent it to me said "It does have a certain charm . . . Like watching the neighborhood kids put on a play." The book has a pretty cover, though, eh? And I do like historicals that have a sense of humor. But would you buy the book based on the slide show? Hmmmmmm. I did put it on my blog so that's something. Both of my readers will have heard of the book now. added a bit later: it's a Bethany House book and there's no mention of faith in the description. Interesting. Speaking of covers, here's An n's newest!

How do you ask people not to make an appearance? I mean Cindy Sheehan was being taken seriously by many middle Americans and now look. Al Sharpton is going to show up to "lend support". I don't mind Al myself--the man's a hoot and he knows it. But when he comes galloping up to your side, you can say goodbye to a big chunk of your party right there. The nearly-convinced get nervous. They check their watches and remember how early they have to get up tomorrow. Poof, there goes your guest list. You're left with the diehards like moveon.org who will go skittering off as soon as some other, better party is announced. You have to clean up the mess on your own. I'm trying to come up with the right wing equivalent. Pat "Jihad" Robertson? Ralph Reed? Randall Terry? Who don't the right of center want showing up at their events? (Not that Cindy S. is only slightly left of center. I agree with her too often--I know that means she's a raving lefty loo

As soon as I figure out how this page actually works, I'm putting your link on the side. really. And douglas hoffman and miss snark, the agent.

zzzzzzzzzz reduxe Good news = the doctor says stop taking that evil bad sleepytime crap, Missy Kate. Bad news = it hasn't worn off yet. Regular books are putting me to sleep and since one must have books, it's books on tape time. And that means we heard the instructions about " slap the tape smartly on a hard flat surface ." I love that line. Slapping smartly. When all books are on CD or MP3 or the next big thing, I will miss hearing the reader reciting the line (when he or she is British, it sounds perfectly correct)

No, the ennui is not the kids' fault or even mine. It's the new medication for the blood pressure and I'm in lala land. My betas are too blocked. I'm dozing off at traffic lights. My solutions to ennui include: - Not taking the damned beta blocker - Reading John Gardner's Nickel Mountain and Flo Fitzpatrick's Hot Stuff . - Making plans to go to the conference in New Jersey in October. - Singing U2 songs [ uno! dos! tres! catorce! ** ... hello, hello / I'm in a place called Vertigo ] at the boys until they promise to get off the computer. They're now playing Dungeons and Dragons. boy 1 : Will you use the whip or a long imprisonment. boy 2: Nah, let me kill more people. About twenty. And then I'll go down the shaft if it no longer contains the gnolls. I hear that Gnolls like to torture intelligent life forms because they scream louder. Wholesome entertainment. ____ **why do they go from three to fourteen?

Honest to god, it's just me and the boys. They refuse to come up with any kind of plans for their own entertainment/edification. If I allowed them, they'd watch tv and do computer the whole day and most of the night. I want someone to march into our lives and say BOYS, YOU WILL GO OUTSIDE and ENJOY IT. And say to me KATE, YOU WILL WORK and NOT BLOG. Problem is that's what the husband attempts to do and we all snarl at him. I remind him that I am a grown up and capable of running my own life, thank you. The boys just roll their eyes until he goes away. Obviously we need some major deity to perform this stirring up function. Heck, more than just the god, we need the whole set up--chariot, winged horses, thunderbolts and artificially amplified voice. Cue deus ex machina. Failing that, maybe school will do the trick. And maybe I should send off the money to go to a conference. Vacuumland is not doing it for me. I've been reading a lot of not-great erotica and feel as i

After years of eating too much food, I am too fat. My mirror tells me this, my kids say so, my doctor confirms it--even the newspaper has announced it Obesity Continues to Expand, [har har har, goddamn sports headline writers at work.] And yet I just made a peach blueberry pie (with a bit of lime peel and blueberries I picked and froze last month). There is something wrong with this picture. Perhaps I will take it to Mirza when I go visit her later. No, I won't. The boys are busy, so I came to my own computer to do a spot of writing. A soft night breeze tugged at the bottom of her dressing gown. The French doors had been flung open and . . . "MOM. It's my turn and he won't get off the computer. It's my turn . . . Hey, what are you writing? Ew, is that a sex one? Yuck. " Good point. I better switch to a non-sex one. . . . He lowered himself carefully onto the chair. "A thoroughly dull existence, slavery. So tell me. What brings you to this godfo

From Wendy Burbank of Medallion with permission to forward:"Medallion Press has received a letter from the Executive Director of RWA stating that our status as a publisher was revoked in error." My question du jour: is "backpedaling" one word or two?

This is a smart bitches sort of entry because I'm linking to Wendy's blog in which she asks what's the essence of a romance. I rolled my eyes a bit--yah duh? it's, like, a relaaaationship, dude? But I liked the answers she got. Give more answers. Now I'm going to GET The HELL away from the Internet. We have to do haircuts, part of the Back To School mental prep. I'll start cutting-cutting-cutting with the scissors until the remaining boys see what I've done to my first victim's head and convince their father to take them to barbershop. It's tradition.

yeah the sox pix sux and make the page loading absolutely stoneaged slow, so let's get MORE! The boy is not fat. He's big though--his feet are about size five. . . here's another pi cture of those sox. and more sox and stuff. Aren't you glad you asked, Beth? like those funny striped ones? I love them things.

I'm talking about the Bosnian rugs, socks etc. Got them all. Do I have recent photos of the actual items? No, because I can't seem to get anyone to take good pictures and my pictures make them look majorly ugly. Maybe after the kids start school, I'll borrow a good camera to take pictures of the rugs because those puppies cost bucks. (About $45-100) I think the rug Fatima's holding is about $70. I'm going to take a picture of her loom, too. ANNNnnnny day now. The lace takes FOREVER to make and I'm no expert so it looks like much cheaper versions, especially my pictures of it. Sad, eh? Remiza** made the fish. It took about a month and is made with tiny needles and thin stringlike yarn. It's only about two feet long and she charges $40 for it. I think she has a couple of smaller pieces for $25. The big piece of lace Fikreta's holding costs about $100. Her sister, who still lives in Bosnia, made it. Fikreta says she has no patience for that kind of fi

GOOD DAY ** I get from Doonesbury to Zits without incident FAIR DAY I recognise the rerun Peanuts strip and have a flashback to my childhood. BAD DAY I have the Peanuts flashback, I understand Zippy AND I accidentally read Family Circus. GO-BACK-TO-BED-and-TRY-AGAIN DAY I understand Zippy and think it's funny, I accidentally read Family Circus (extra horrible points if it's about a dead grandpa looking down from heaven) . . . AND I don't catch the Christian theme to BD (damn, I mean BC) before it's too late--and I read the whole strip. _______ **BONUS for the GOOD DAY Something actually happens in Mary Worth or Rex Morgan, MD.

Spiffy ( Bet you forgot that word existed. I say it's even more due for a resurgence than groovy. It could be argued that both words should be buried deep in a landfill.) anyway, spiffy article about blogging by Joel Achenbach. Yes, you have to sign in. Suck it up--this is the Washington Post. They won't sell your name to any bankers in Nigeria. * * * Beth is worrying about setting a date for her manuscript. She thinks she's got one now. Well, ha on that, Kate says bitterly. I changed my first book's date about ten times. Photography, a presidential assassination, famous weather events and other dopey details kept getting in the way of my plot. And then that stupid Grand Central Depot was a problem. . . I think I like Candy's philosophy. If it ain't in Wikipedia or Google ignore it. Unfortunately the editor, Hilary Sares ## , knows too much about the subject of photography. I think we exchanged about 15 emails about it, and then I had to go out and find m

I have two recurring dreams. DREAM ONE I am at the beach house I went to as a kid. In the dream I am always saying or thinking, oh wow, I haven't been here for years . Futhermore, in the dream I say or think hey, I dream about this place all the time. I know that this isn't a dream now because [fill in blank. I taste salt --or-- I hear waves -- or-- I can see that museum and remember where the whaling exhibit was --or-- it's been twenty years (and it really has been.)] Last night I had the dream and the fill-in-the-blank part was: I was talking to my aunt--the woman who owns the house--and telling her Hey, Henriette, I'm so glad to be here at last. You know, I dream about this place all the time. She picked up her coffee and a section of The New York Times and started to read. I thought, Wow! Now I know this time it really isn't a dream. Not only can I hear the waves on the beach, but someone's ignoring me as I talk. I was even more convinced than us

omigod....dolly, jeffy and pj on the dildo....oh damn, I'm gonna start laughing again and it hurrrrts. AABAT....ahahahahahooooowww It's not for the kids. And since I'm probably already doomed to at least an outer circle of hell, there's this Onion article. Evangelical Scientists Refute Gravity with New 'Intelligent Falling' Theory. Look, Maili-- nothing but links!

I was raving about a romance to a romance-writing friend and she said it --> that line I hear all the damn time. "I can't read romances because I write them." She told me she won't read any kind of popular fiction any more. (Apparently literary stuff isn't a problem. Or maybe she only reads non-fiction?) I've heard about this fear before--the dreaded contagion of voice .* Taking on another author's writing style . . .like you turn into a big old ventriloquist's dummy or your soul is taken over by a stronger, fiercer Power. Okay, I'm going to be less catty now because she visits my blog and I don't want to give her a raft because I know her ROS-delivery skills are far better than mine. But.... HONESTLY..... Dumping all genres of fun reading? Sounds too much like giving up desserts forever because you worry about tiramisu. Or maybe only writing recipes and never letting yourself taste other people's concoctions*** And I don't s

Yeehaw! Sedika's son had a baby and we celebrated by getting high on honey drenched nutcakes and thick coffee that dissolves the lining of the stomach. Hurija brought in one of those music tapes that sounds like yowling to the uninitiated and I learned a couple of dance steps. I felt guilty about not doing any English so we reviewed the names of sexual parts in English and Bosnian. Vagina is basically the same in both languages. Hey, look! My visitor counter is probably going to go wild now....The word for "breast" in Bosnian sounds a lot like "sister" to me. My other highlight today: sorting the worm bin. I'm gonna make worm tea** and I don't like drowning the little guys. Yes, it's true. I do know how to have a good time. ____ ** for the plants.

Okay, the first edits of Futurelover (I didn't name it--but I never do. I'm rotten at titles.) are off to the editor. These are actually PRE-edits. This story has been accepted and will show up at Ellora's Cave eventually. You'll be the first to know. Now I'm going to pre-pre-edit another erotica submission, per the editor's request. Hey, whatever makes the thing easier to read is good, yes? Still, I might have to reinsert a bunch of commas if it gets the "no thank you, best of luck placing your work elsewhere". <--And that period outside the quotation mark thing? That's something that'll probably be different in another publisher's style guide. Every publisher has different standards. Ellora's Cave does not like commas. They don't think much of semi-colons and colons are right out, thank you. E very one hates parentheses. (I ask you, what the heck is wrong with parentheses?) Actually, I'm not a punctuation fanatic. Good t

I'm editing a story and my instructions are to insert more emotion, more inner life. I'm finding it hard to do at the moment because I just read Great Maria by Cecelia Holland. The book is not a romance. It's a story of an ambitious 11th century woman and it's freaking great. Maria is entirely believable and there are no whiffs of 21st century mores. She kills a man and has others killed and though she occasionally thinks about it, she doesn't obsess. And she knows doing penance will take care of any fear of being kept out of heaven. The book is almost completely devoid of interior descriptions of inner turmoil (we get the exterior shots though). It's practically third person objective. Everything is shown, nothing told--hardly a scrap of emotional reflection. Maybe a sinple line here and there. "What he said caught her imagination." That's the entire description of the moment Maria decides to go with her father's plans and marry a knight

My local bookstores no longer have my books in stock. I've checked. I feel as if I've dropped off the face of the earth. Pity party starts at 11. Could be worse--I was going to rant about travel and panic stuff but decided it was TMI. (here's a sample-- I'm driving on the highway and I'm Only. Five. Miles. From. Home. Me to passenger: "open that pill bottle and give me a white one. No, not a red one. I already took one of those. And I can't drive if I do the orange. Hell. I'm hyperventilating. The white one, yeah. And water. Do you mind if I sing? Tough. It helps me breathe.")

To the Board of Directors of the Romance Writers of America: It has been brought to our attention, by several of our romance authors, that your organization no longer considers Medallion Press, Inc. a legitimate publisher according to your guidelines. We were surprised we did not receive official notification directly, but instead discovered it was posted on several RWA internet loops. Accordingly, we request this letter be published in its entirety in the RWR Report so all members may understand the nature of the process that eliminated Medallion as an RWA approved publisher. We will also send copies of this letter to all our own RWA member authors. We are dismayed you declared Medallion Press no longer a legitimate publisher. In July of 2004 we met all of your qualifications without incident by showing sales of 5000+ copies of USA Today Bestselling author Nan Ryan's The Last Dance. Several months prior to Book Expo America 2005, we received a call from your office alerting us

If someone's house burns down, we can help by sending money and books. If someone needs emergency medical care, we can help defray medical costs. The online community frequently rocks. But sometimes there is nothing we can do. Zip. Sharing Sheila/Lynn's burden is impossible. I can't even imagine the burden. okay, never mind... I'll skip the link. She doesn't need more publicity. What constitutes a mother's worst nightmare shifted for me today. I used to think the worst possible thing would be the death of one of my kids. Being a mom, I get to think about crap like that all the time. But maybe there's something worse. What if one of my kids deliberately caused another's death? Hell. Forget the race. It's a contest of pain with no winners.

we're still here. Funny that you can wander the rocky tree-line coast of Maine and find ...wi fi. Dang it's slow though.

Unless I sneak off to town and manage to find computer access, I'm offline for a week. We'll be in Maine (leaving behind our vicious dog and a 220 lb house-sitter in case you're thinking of breaking in to steal our Magic card collection). Four adults, six kids between ages 14-6, two cars and a kayak. No dog this time. She's staying behind to guard the cards. I'd like to leave you with some profound words of wisdom. Instead, I'll leave you this link from Jed (he's my bro, and the only one in the family who has had a poem written about him). Touched by his Noodly Appendage . Intelligent Design by pasta.

I wasn't there . . . But if I was? I bet I would have been so fascinated by the cars driving into a room , I wouldn't have noticed much else. (Stuff like that makes me gawk--my kids and I still get a kick out of glass elevators.) I'd have been waiting to hear familiar names among the winners. I'd have been wondering it was possible to get a glass of wine. I'd have been looking through my bag for a pen and paper because I hate not fiddling with things. I must doodle. I'd have begged neighbors for gum--the really sharp flavored stuff so I'd stay awake and have nice breath at the same time. Yeah, I might have noticed a right-wing edge, but since I'm yet another Ms. Softy Liberal-Pants (Megan's trademarked title) I tend to notice right-wing edges all over my country. Fox TV, anyone? And my first response as we pushed out of the big room would have been, yeah, it's not my cup of tea, but I'm not gonna whine because I'm probably never goin

I'm doing an romanceunleashed entry today. Just some very basic links for procrastination that feels like research. I had a long entry written--lots of coolio links. The computer hiccupped and dumped it. Isn't anyone going to get outraged by my porn post? Jeez. You could at least roll your eyes. I'm lonely. Cleaning time. We're getting a case of houseguests. On Friday we are dragging our houseguests (in-law types) up for a Vacation of counting and scratching mosquito bites and playing poker. Last time we stayed in this cabin, we didn't sleep because the mice played rugby football all night long in the rafters.

and stick to it? This is a blog, dammit. Tangential and nonsequitor is what we're all about. . .that and posting results of some good quizzes--but only the ones with cool pix.

but wait, lemme look up the meaning first. And I want an unbiased meaning of pornography: 1.Sexually explicit pictures, writing, or other material whose primary purpose is to cause sexual arousal. 2.The presentation or production of this material. 3. Lurid or sensational material: " Recent novels about the Holocaust have kept Hitler well offstage [so as] to avoid the ... pornography of the era" (Morris Dickstein). ETYMOLOGY: French pornographie, from pornographe, pornographer, from Late Greek pornographos, writing about prostitutes : porn, prostitute; see per- 5 in Indo-European roots + graphein, to write ; see -graphy Okay, well one and two fit a lot of what I read and write. Three fits a bunch of those covers. There's the brain and emotion involved in romance, you argue. Yup AND that's true for the very best sort of sex, eh? Not just the lizard brain in there for sex and arousal but the whole of the animal kingdom of your brain (not literally! No, please, not the