kate rothwell

Jayelle wrote about sex slang yesterday. I wrote about it today. In other news, it's still cold and rainy so I think I'll work on that historical based in England since we're currently operating under the right climate conditions. Then I can call the weather inspirational instead of depressing oh. shit. I just blogged about the weather. All is lost. Attention all Rats: abandon ship. This blog is going down for the third time, circling the drain . . .for now, at any rate.

My father liked to tell the story of going to a roadhouse dive sort of a bar way back when. Some guy was playing guitar and singing and my father thought, Wow, that guy's lousy. He'll never make it to the big time. The singer? Elvis Presley. When I was a wee tot (okay, late teens) I heard some guys in Harvard Square doing this really stupid style of singing. Only it wasn't singing. It was a kind of chanting. I asked the person next to me what was that all about? He said that's rap music. I said, Wow, that stuff will never last. It's not even really music. So now I have 3 kids of my own and as I was driving one of them somewhere told him this story. We wondered if they all have the uncanny ability to pinpoint a musical trend as totally not-going-anywhere and be so totally wrong? And for all our sakes, I can only hope he--or they--sneers at something we won't mind hearing forever.

to stop buying and reading brockmanns. They're like appletinis which I think tastes like floor cleaner but drink when they're put in front of me. Although I actually like the last one I gulped down--It Came Upon a Midnight Clear. I liked the hero and the heroine. That one was more like a lemon drop. Or maybe the slice of granny smith some bars put on the side of the appletinis. It's 9 am and I want a drink. My decaf coffee (sigh) will have to do.

I swore I wasn't going to write any more Jumping-on-Bandwagon books. I'd just go for what I wanted to write and figure out a way to sell it. So how do we explain the m/m WIP currently on my computer? It's all someone else's fault, of course. And now I want to write that instead of the alleged book of my interest which is mired in plot-less mud. *Shaking fist.* Speaking of books 'o the heart, I've discovered that every female of a certain age (over 35, say) has at least Breaking-Free-of-My-Life book inside her. I started mine a while back and it petered out even though Nan really likes it. In these books the main character walks away from her kids and husband or maybe they walk away from her (War Between the Tates. Remember that one? Old, old,old) I wonder what the male version of the Breaking Free book is. I'll bet it's more Walter Mitty-esque. Instead of a quiet break from his path, the main character's family gets blown up and so he then gets to b...

No seriously, I think this is a new record. Three in one day. All three editors clearly took the time to read and remark, and that's nice. And also I've decided that there are worse things than rejections... silence. God, how I hate silence (see about a thousand rants in the past) because with total silence it's as if you don't even exist in the editors' eyes. You're not worthy of notice in any way shape or form. So yeah. At least one of the rejections is about 6 months overdue and I'd decided I was getting the silence response. That mean getting that gee, like your voice, don't think this works for me note is actually an upbeat event. I'm sorta depressed but at least I exist.

Sometimes those small romances hit just right. Bedded for Diamonds (and what a dumb title that is) was great ... for me anyway. I loved the way the dark dangerous secrets and life of the hero was more of a PITA for the heroine, not the pure aphrodisiac it so often is. She knew exactly what sort of difficulties she'd be facing. Because she seemed able to handle it and he seemed willing to change I can really imagine these two staying and growing together and what's more, I actually cared. I wasn't convinced at the start. Things like the heroine's heavy-duty ditz factor bugged me. (Partly because I have an anti-astrology thing. Sorry, Linda.) But by the end I appreciated her as a likeable and competent person. The first time I saw the hero's sidekick, the cockatoo, I rolled my eyes but then I was charmed by the bird. Yeah, by the end, I loved 'em all. I especially appreciated the dark moment. Her response to her own injury was "so what? You take risks you...

are you going to do curb day tomorrow? We should drag most of this stuff out of the house but I'm fairly sure we'd just have to drag it all back in again. Last week we dumped the one exercise machine that works. I recommend curbside shopping. It's where we got most of our furniture and some of it is honestly not too horrible.