Wanna meet up? Are you in Joisey?

I’m no Scrooge! Win a Free Book!

In my last contest of the year, I will buy one of these books, reader’s choice, and award it to one lucky commenter! Simply comment here on which of these books from my pals tickles your fancy.

I’m taking a Internet holiday of sorts, so I’ll see you in the New Year, when I’ll announce the winner.

God bless us, every one!

Sex, love... oh, and exploding toads!

Can you say Monty Python in fairy-godmother drag?

Ciar's favorite Samhain fantasy of 2008!

Wedding disasters are funnier when they aren't yours!

Two royalty romances under one cover--who could ask for more?

The only way you want to run up a burning mountain is with Hot Shot Gabe Cooper!

Sex and chocolate--what's a few extra calories for the Holidays?

If you're afraid of the darkness... you're screwed!

Love, Lies, and Lightening Strikes!

No guide dogs were hurt in the writing of this novella!

When the Thames froze in 1814, Gideon Frost found his heart melting.

Some men never learn--even after they're dead.

Sun, sex, and satanism... coming Jan 2!

A true love story...

Licks and luv for the holidays!

Naughty or Nice?

I’m taking a cue from Mrs. Giggles (that can’t be a good idea, you’re thinking), ripping off a recent blog post of hers in which she gets a bunch of stuff off her chest. Except, I’d like to twist it up a bit, adding in some love letters. So, naughty and nice, here are my anonymous missives.

Dear Monkey:
You are funny, witty, a kick-ass writer, and one of the best things that happened to me in 2008. I love having you as a crit partner, and despite anything you might say, you and I both know that I benefit more from our partnership. I know you’re sooooo close to “making it.”
Love,
Ciar

Dear Poopster:
I don’t care that your books sell more than mine do. I don’t care that you’re friends with big name people, that you’ve seen it all, done it all, know it all. I think you are rude and a bull in the virtual china shop, crushing everyone and everything that gets in your way. All the success in the world won’t matter, because you’ll always be a bully. Bite me.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Moose:
You make me nuts, and I couldn’t stand a day without you.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Beth:
I’m blessed to know you, to be the recipient of your patience, understanding, guidance, and intelligence. You may like my writing, but I’m your number one fan. And I’m so sorry we’re facing this Christmas with a loss in common. We’ll get through with the support of friends and one another.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Poopster II:
Stop commenting on everyone’s writing. You aren’t doing anyone a favor, trust me on this. It’s ego-driven, and everyone sees through it.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Tom:
I love you.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Mom:
I miss you.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Crissy:
House will never become a m/m show, but I truly respect that you take the time to think about such things.
Love,
Ciar

Dear Santa:
Help us get through this season, those who have lost loved ones, those with loved ones far away, in harms’ way. May we Americans learn from our mistakes, that less is enough, that love isn’t measured by the size of an HD TV, that although we will always have the poor among us, we can each give a little food to ease their ache.
Love,
Ciar

Small presses, review angst, and miscellany

Photo has nothing to do with anything, I just love collecting images. I’m taking a break from pawing through old watch parts to create more “steampunk/altered art” lots to sell. I possibly make more money doing this than writing. I noticed today a post in which some authors were surprised that there exist agents with “second” jobs, or vice versa. Hmnn. I would love to see the statistics on that.

Of course, most of the authors I know have “day jobs,” including those who are full-time homemakers and mothers or fathers. I would expect that number to increase on the one hand–given publishing hard times. To decrease possibly–given day job layoffs! These are tough times, and I’ve noticed a lot of aspiring and new authors (like myself) very worried about the lack of a market for their work. I was in Manhattan this weekend, thinking of a time when I worked there in publishing, and how times have really changed. It will bounce back, and it will be different when it does. Wish I had that crystal ball.

Visited Just Erotic Romance Reviews for the first time in a long time, and noticed something–mainstream mass market releases alongside epubs. Reviewed together, all mixed in. Huh. Then it struck me that most online review sites are doing this as well. So when did that happen and how? When New York realized they wanted to market to an online romance community that is already thriving? Have epublishing/small press houses actually carved a path? I wonder what the upshot of that melding of the two worlds will be? Or is it already one world, where romance writers have a foot in Ellora’s Cave or Samhain, for example, and another at Kensington, etc.

What is old is evidently never too old for the romance writing community–reviews, or rather, the analysis of review sites. Today on some threads I noted that the usual suspects–Smart Bitches, Dear Author, Mrs. Giggles–drew some ire. The question is always the same. “Why are they so nasty?” (Dear Author generally not cited as uber-nasty.) The answer is always the same “Ratings.” The idea is that the motivation for being funny/snarky or downright despicable if you’re inclined to view it that way overrides some moral compass that reviewers ought to have. But don’t. Or some do. Whatever.

Once again, I’m the outsider, basically agreeing with just about everything Mrs. Giggles has ever said about MY OWN books. Okay, maybe I’d throw myself a few more points on each title, but she’s always nailed some weak point. It maybe hurts when she gets a laugh at my expense (admittedly, it’s been a while since a new release), but that’s a matter of style. The other argument is that bad reviews can help sales. I. Don’t. Think. So. I think that’s something authors tell themselves to soothe egos. I would propose that some other marketing initiative or parameter is at work and it’s a coincidence that your sales went up the week your book got trashed. I think reviews are for readers, and some readers simply love funny reviews. Crickey, look at Saturday Night Live. They’ve been on–how long–making fun of popes, presidents, blind governors? Ratings. Viewers.

The Wild, Wild West (not the bad Will Smith movie). My opinion is that authors should stop trying to wrestle these snakes in a bag (bad metaphor–snakes on a plane?) called the internet. You can’t control it. Read it and laugh, or don’t read it.

WINNERS! Winter Wonderland of Prizes!

Thanks to everyone who entered our contest!
Our winners:
First place–Jodi Shadden
Second place–Anne Muller
Third place–Kerri (s waldo)
Fourth place–Juana Esparza

You’ll be contacted shortly for your snail mail addresses!

A job to offer, a painful awakening, and a really wonderful guy

Unemployment. What a wake-up call I’ve had. Not that I lost my job, thank God, but I’ve never been more grateful for it. I have a job to offer someone. In three days, I’ve reviewed over 100 resumes for one loading dock job. Bankers, salesmen and women, white collar, blue collar, t-shirt. It’s been heartbreaking–all have basically the same story. Most have been at the same spot for close to 20 years and have been layed off. The only thing getting me through this grim process (some of the men are in tears and nearly beg) is that before the holiday, I’ll be able to give someone a wonderful Christmas gift.

Anyone feeling generous, please send a kind thought or prayer to a really, really wonderful guy named Tom. He’s my brother, and he has inoperable cancer. He just lost his mom, and while he has the best attitude of just about anyone I’ve ever met, he could use all good energy coming at him–even from strangers.

Thanks to everyone who took time to write me about my short free story at Samhain (see below). You are all very generous and what a gift to have heard from you!!!

Free Ebook for the Holidays!

That odd looking building in the watercolor is the Phoenix Shot Tower in Baltimore. If it weren’t for that building, I might not have been born. So I wrote a little story for you about how my great-grandfather saved a lot of men and captured the heart of his beloved one Christmas eve.

How about a bit of romance, a totally (cross my fingers and hope to die) true story, and a chance to warm the heart of another tiny tot (mine)?

I wrote this Irish-American tale as part of Samhain Publishing’s overstuffed stocking of winter giveaways (I can’t even keep track of how much free stuff is being offered, but I know you’ll find it!).

The story will be live at the Samhellion newsletter site on Monday, and I’d love to hear your comments after you read. Come on, you don’t want to break the tiny tot’s heart, do you? Don’t be a scrooge, read a warm story!

It’s called A Midnight Clear and I am wearing the ring in the story as I type this.

Edward Cullen is my great-uncle. I always wondered about him.

So the conversation at Thanksgiving went something like this:
“Aunt Terry, are you related to Edward Cullen?”

Huh. How did she know that? She’s the in-law, not from my side of the family. OMG. She knows my pen name. Not suitable for this tiny tot. What if she googles me. Oh, of course she knows my pen name, because it was my mom’s real name, and I’ve been talking about mom a lot lately.

“Why yes, little Penelope, he is my great-uncle.” Her mouth a perfect O, her eyes wide, wiggling in her chair.

Snickers from around the table. Duh.

So I have this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to buy a lot of stuff that says “I love Edward Cullen” on it. My great-uncle is okay, don’t get me wrong, but that would feel kinda squicky. I can get jewelry with the family crest (sort of–trust me, that’s not quite right), Cullen bumper stickers, Cullen god-knows-what. We don’t much go in for apples and forks in the family, but I can live with those.

Who knew? I’m dying for some way to take advantage of this, but I’ve come up empty. Any ideas?

more the engrish!

Need new radio hat, signal interrupted.

Writing without a plot = insanity. Srsly.
I have characters, I have a world (in fact, two worlds). I have the reason the characters are in these worlds. I know that boy meets girl, loses her, gets her back. That’s a given.
I gots evil. Tons and tons of scenes. Atmosphere galore. Chapters of it.
Right now, my work in progress is more like a series of Seinfeld episodes (aka the show about nothing).
I wait a few days, work on something else, clean the fridge, do a little shopping. Open the document labeled “Steamside Chronicles.” Nope. They still aren’t doing a thing. I have to go to work tomorrow, and maybe by tomorrow night Fenwick, The Man, Screw, Barber, Sweet Pea and Petti will have pulled it together.
I’ve tried every plotting tool available. The little boxes and flow charts stay empty. How the hell am I supposed to know what’s going to happen? I haven’t written the book yet? Ask the damn characters!
This quagmire makes me feel like a real failure. Fail. I fail. Big freaking F. The only good thing? I can’t sub the book until I’m finished, because I can’t write the synopsis. I can’t even write the query. At this point, I can’t even send more to my crit partner, because she might ask about the plot.
Have you rewired your brain to allow you to become a real writer–ie, one who knows how to plot in advance? Is it an expensive procedure? Does it hurt much?
Okay, I’ll go write another scene. And then maybe vacuum. That should kill a few minutes.