What has it got in its pockets?

by Cassondra Murray

Gollum was probably not the first fellow to ask this question, though he might
have been the first on record to actually wonder about it out loud.

But he certainly wasn't the last.

I've spoken those exact words repeatedly (though silently) in recent years as I've begun to observe male behaviors through the jaded eyes of a middle-aged female writer.

Have y'all heard that Bud Light Real Men of Genius radio commercial--the one about "Mr. Cargo Pants Designer"?

"Is that a banana in your pocket?"

"Why, yes it is. And an orange...."

And an ipod perhaps....

A survival knife? A multi-tool? A flashlight? A cigarette lighter? The list goes on.

Okay, I'll set aside complete dissing of cargo pants because of their military origins. But MOST cargo pants are not worn by military men and women--people who have to carry their lives on their backs for weeks at a time and defend themselves and their fellow soldiers too.

I've decided that most modern cargo pants are designed for the man who is worried about his masculinity. The man who refuses to admit that, just like women, males need to carry around a certain amount of STUFF. I can come to only one logical conclusion. This is a man who believes that if he actually possesses a suitable bag to carry the STUFF in, that one of the appendages necessary to be considered male might...oh, I don't know...maybe fall off or start to rot.

What is up with that?

Consider, if you will, wallet bulge. The male equivalent of disgusting panty lines.

I don't say it out loud, but I do THINK it when I see a fellow with a big square bulge in his hip pocket. Nothing like an icky wallet bulge to ruin what would otherwise be a wonderfully distracting male rear end. There are too few of those nicely shaped male nether regions these days. It's an absolute crime to have the nice ones mangled.

Hey, men are always staring at ours, why not admit it? We like theirs too...sans wallet bulge thank you very much....ahem....

It's even worse when the guy is wearing a suit.

I attended an event this week where I saw a few phenomenal men in very sexy suits. And a whole bunch of men who don't wear them well at all because of what I'm coming to view as "serious male fashion sins."

Let's consider James Bond, the quintessential ladies man, putting his life on the line for his country--saving the world in his $6000 suit--but let's consider him with with seven dollars worth of nickels and dimes clinking, clunking, and bulging from the front of his thighs. I can't help but return to the famous line from Kindgergarten Cop. "Maybe it's a tumor."

Somehow, I don't think we're going to see that in the next Bond film. Bond, of course, carries all the stuff he needs and a whole bunch of gadgets hidden in an immaculately tailored tuxedo. But that's film, and this is real life. And in real life, "tumors" abound.

Men used to get through life with a few bills in a money clip, a car key, and a house key, all which fit in their pockets with nary a tumor in sight. For a well dressed fellow in a nicely cut pair of trousers, any extra...um...anomalies...meant he was happy to see you.

Not so these days. Men carry stuff. Cell phones and laptops and sunglasses (expensive ones, which demand cases so they don't get scratched) and as they age, reading glasses maybe. They need Blackberries and keys for cars, houses, gym lockers, garages and motorcycles. They need newspapers and a paperback book for the commute to work on the train. They need power bars and an apple. They need music devices with all the wires and gizmos and accessories.

And let's face it. A briefcase doesn't work a lot of the time. And a backpack is hell on a nice jacket or a good shirt, and it makes your back all sweaty.

I understand the wish to travel light. I swear I do. I want the smallest purse I can carry that will hold the minimum necessary stuff. And I won't switch out purses. I don't have time. It has to work with all my clothes, or I'll be a fashion failure and that's just too bad. In some ways I guess I'm more like a guy than a girl when it comes to the whole "purse" phenomenon.

I have no idea when the "purse" came into use--I know the regency writers on the blog call them "reticules" in their stories--and ladies almost always had one with them.

They used them to carry their smelling salts I guess--since those corsets caused them to faint without warning--and to carry a little money to get home, in case the handsome rake turned out to be a big jerk and left you stranded.

Some things haven't changed all that much, have they?

If women weren't the first, they certainly weren't the ONLY people using some sort of bag to carry their stuff around....Scottish men wore, along with their kilts, sporrans. Rather handy and unencumbering I think--a much nicer, more elegant version of the fanny pack (which is, like a backpack, almost always ugly in my opinion.)

Here's a fellow, on the right, who looks rather dashing in his kilt and sporran, don't you think? I could be prejudiced by my Scottish heritage.

And below that there's an entire football team, and every one of them has a sporran. I'm thinkin these guys are not wimps, in spite of their blue socks.

I sometimes hear males dissing guys who wear kilts and sporrans--calling them sissies and other derogatory words that would suggest the well-dressed Scottish man has anatomy more akin to the female (those words will probably never make it into one of my blogs).

But I've also noticed that they don't say that stuff out loud if they're anywhere near a fellow like this, who for the sake of his sport (which, if you haven't seen it, involves tossing the equivalent of a telephone pole end over end) is probably having his lassie hold his purse...er..sporran.

Dude, what's in your purse?

Those words apparantly scare the..well..the male anatomy off of most men in the United States. It's my understanding that the Man Bag--or the Man Purse--has been popular in Europe for years. But here in the States, it's been slow to catch on. Why?

My own husband is a good example--not of the scared part. He isn't. But of the "stuff" part. The poor man has, for at least ten years, carried around a shaving kit. He carries it everywhere. It has his allergy meds, an extra knife, small flashlight, money, sundry bits of paper on which he's written addresses and emails of people he'll never contact but thought he would, business cards, breath mints, visine....

Basically, all the same stuff women carry in a purse--except the lipstick. Although he DOES carry chapstick. Still, that shaving kit doesn't have a strap--which means it keeps one of his hands busy. Impractical.

My husband has no fear of having his man card revoked. This man wears pink shirts--and looks awesome in them. Once, when we were very young and just married, he asked me to NEVER request that he buy feminine hygiene products for me. So I didn't. He has since apologized. Said he was young and stupid and can't really figure out what, exactly, he was embarrassed about, but he isn't now. I still haven't asked--some part of me still hasn't forgiven him I guess--for being embarrassed by his association with what was--and is-- part of me.

In spite of my bad attitude, I admit he's the best of the lot when it comes to this sort of thing. If I'm at a wine tasting I don't even have to ask. He just takes my purse off my shoulder and puts it on his--and WALKS AROUND THE STORE WITH IT so I can enjoy the wine tasting free of the weight hanging on my arm.

It's strange, but he has absolutely no fear of anything necessary to procreation falling off of his lower half if he holds my handbag.

But it seems my husband is the exception to the rule. And lately, he's been drooling over some nice leather (and very expensive) messenger bags--Man purses!.

One would think, that after seeing this man with his messenger bag that ALL men would wish to imitate him.

Honestly, that bag strapped onto his body detracts not one bit from his hotness.

And for a short time, it seemed that Jack Bauer had succeeded in bringing the practical to a level of acceptance....

But not so. Not yet anyhow. Of course there are a few fellows who've figured out how practical these are.

Here's a photo of a guy in a rather nice suit, complete with a designer Man Purse. Nary a pocket tumor in sight.....

And just for the Banditas in the lair who drool over Hugh Jackman, here's one for y'all. Does his messenger bag make him somehow less......hunky? His shoulders less broad? Chest less muscled? Biceps more wimpy?








Honestly, I'm curious about this whole man purse idea and the bag-carrying aversion some fellows seem to have.What do you suppose is the root of it?

For the ladies in the lair I've included a few examples of some pretty sparkly purses that are definitely girly. Somehow, I just can't see Indy or Jack Bauer with one of these, but maybe that's reverse prejudice?

And I can't see this guy worrying too much about losing his man card because he carries around a bag for his coins--you know, since kilts don't have pockets and therefore he can't indulge in wallet bulge and ruin our.....uhm.... view.

So tell me, what do y'all think of Man purses?

Ladies, Does your fellow carry a bag of some sort? Will he hold YOUR handbag without a fuss?

If he carries a bag, what does he carry in it?

Guys, will anything important fall off of your body if you carry a messenger bag to hold your stuff?

Remember that old show, Let's Make a Deal? The more stuff you had with you, the better! What's in YOUR messenger bag or purse right now? If you were offered $100 for a paper clip, would you win the money?

How many purses do you have in your closet? And do you change them out to match your outfits? Or are you like me, and stick with one you like?

Do you see a lot of guys carrying bags OTHER than backpacks?

And are any of the ladies like me--do you go "ick" at wallet bulge and pocket tumors?

Bandit Booty!!

By Kate

Thanks to everyone for their lovely comments on my post about taking all those steps toward publication! The winner of the $15 Amazon.com gift certificate ... chosen at random ... is ...

CAFFEY!!!

Congratulations, Caffey!! Just email me at katecarlisle99@yahoo.com and I'll send you the gift certificate by return email. It's so easy. I love that!

And thanks again to everyone who shared their wonderful stories.

Avon Author Terri Garey's Back in the Lair!

by Beth Andrews

I'd like to welcome Avon author Terri Garey back to the blog! Her newest release, A Match Made in Hell, is available now :-)

The Sanderson Sisters and Their Twelve Husbands

I’m a big believer in the “real life is stranger than fiction” theory. I mean, half the things that happen in real life would seem unbelievable if you read them on the page. My husband has been urging me for years to write a book about my three sisters, but—as I’ve pointed out to him on more than one occasion—they’d never speak to me again if I did. (To which his answer is, invariably, “And the problem with this is….?”)

Hence, the title of today’s blog (names have been changed to protect the innocent… meaning me!) Tell me, would you pick up a book with that title the bookstore? Just curious… he may be onto something!

Alas, since I’m not ready to be an only child just yet, that heartbreaking work of staggering genius will have to wait. *sigh* (Still, the holidays are coming up – one more Thanksgiving dinner may just be the push I need!)

Luckily, I have plenty of other material besides my immediate family – sometimes the universe just has a way of dumping odd characters on your doorstep. While I never answer my door if I can help it (for that very reason), I find myself unable to avoid this phenomenon when I travel.

As an example, let me tell you about a weekend trip I took a while ago to attend a writing conference. My flight was delayed, so when I arrived it was after dark. As I made my way curbside to grab a taxi, I was literally descended on by three men in suits who had stationed themselves near baggage claim, each of them loudly vying for my business. The conference hotel was nearly 45 minutes away, so I knew I had an expensive trip ahead of me, and went with the guy who told me he’d charge ten dollars less than the other two guys. The smug look he threw at his competitors should’ve been my first clue that all was not well in limo land. We had to walk to the parking garage to find his Lincoln Towncar, which I found odd. Odder still—once my luggage was in the trunk and I was in the back seat—he proceeded to regale me with the tale of his triumphant return to the taxi business. It seems that my oh-so-charming companion had just recently gotten out of the hospital, having had a run-in with a shady gentleman by the name of “Fat Mitch”, who had been determined to run my poor, innocent driver out of business, by hook or by crook. Oh, the evils of Fat Mitch, the levels he would go to! I heard all about it for the next 45 minutes, speeding down the Jersey turnpike—in the dark, in the rain, all alone with a guy who was evidently a target of the Jersey mob. All I could do was pray the towncar was bulletproof! By the time he told me that he’d seen the ghost of his deceased mother sitting in the front seat of that very same towncar right after he’d been to the funeral home to pick up her ashes, I was white as a ghost myself.

But the trip held more surprises, and more odd characters. The next day, on my way to a workshop, I noticed a middle-aged blonde woman standing in the middle of a hotel hallway. She had a dazed look in her eye, as though she was deep in thought. (Hey, I know you’re thinking, “Writer’s conference, dazed woman… what’s the big deal?) Well, when the workshop was over, I walked by again, and she was still standing there, in the exact same place, directly in the center of the hallway. An hour later, I traversed the same hallway, and there she was again! Facing the opposite direction this time, but still there. It was then I went to find hotel staff and advise them they might have a little bit more than your average crazed romance writer on their hands. Poor woman.

Unfortunately for me, I’d booked my room late and was therefore forced to take a cab to a neighboring hotel that evening. I glommed on to some total strangers who were in the same boat, sharing a cab so I didn’t have to risk the “Jersey ride of death” again myself, but the next morning I was out of luck and on my own. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when a perfectly normal Yellow Cab with a perfectly normal-looking woman behind the wheel showed up, but for some reason the woman decided that I was the perfect person with which to share the juicy details of her recent breakup, which involved strippers, her teenage daughter, an ex-boyfriend with a drug and alcohol problem, and something about linguine. (If anybody can figure out the linguine part, please let me know. I was numb by that point.)

By the time the conference was over, a Bandita with a British accent, a shoe problem and a husband who looks like Colin Firth was kind enough to take me to the airport (for which I shall be forever grateful!). The heavens, however, were not so cooperative, and heavy rains delayed my flight once again. Anyone who’s been stranded in an airport at 2 o’clock in the morning knows it’s a recipe for disaster, and New Jersey did not disappoint. My first encounter was with a young, chatty guy who turned out to be a rapper deejay with a stage name so filthy that I refuse to type it. I still have his business card around here somewhere; he wanted me to look him up if I ever needed entertainment at a party, or like… a wedding. (Yeah, right.)

Then, a woman who’d attended the same writing conference came up—being stuck in the airport, just like me—and struck up a conversation. Thank the Lord (says I), a fellow romance writer! Well-dressed! Well-groomed! A light at the end of the tunnel!

Not. The woman handed me her card by way of introduction, and all I can tell you is that her pen name was the equivalent of Sunstar Moonflower. She was “dabbling” in writing a futuristic romance, which was based on the “true story” of her abduction by aliens, and the resulting universal truths that they imparted to her. I still get regular email newsletters from her that talk about the “new earth” and the “unified field of consciousness”, in which she refers to herself as a “visionary”. (Earth to Sunstar: the aliens may have landed, but they’d probably choose a better vehicle to disseminate knowledge than online newsletters.)

My point, if you’ve read this far, is that real life truly is stranger than fiction. I couldn’t have made up these characters or these experiences if I tried! But they give me great fodder for my writing, and keep me out of trouble with my sisters. So far. J (Although one of them is about to get married again… which would make my imaginary title The Sanderson Sisters and Their Thirteen Husbands, but I digress. )

So what’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you? Who’s the oddest person you’ve ever met? What experience have you had that people would find hard to believe actually happened? Share, and I’ll choose one lucky commenter to win a signed copy of my newest release from Avon HarperCollins, A Match Made In Hell.

An Ode To Cheese

by Caren Crane

(With many apologies to the lactose intolerant among us.)

I love cheese. Not only the traditional loves like cheddar, gouda, swiss, edam and monterey jack, but also the more exotic varieties like Camembert, Danish Havarti, brie, Stiltson, bleu and feta. I adore this milk-based product in many forms (some of them stinky, but all delicious) but this post is about something else: real cheese.

The cheese you are ashamed to love. The guilty pleasure you allow yourself only when you are all alone in the house or car. Or perhaps with a select few treasured friends who share your forbidden fantasy.

Here is a list of some of my all-time favorite cheese. Some I have admitted to before. Some represent ground-breaking territory that could totally be used against me in public. For the Banditas and BBs, I bare my cheesy soul:

1. Big Trouble In Little China - This movie stars Kurt Russell, who is one of the funniest, sexiest actors of all time. Kurt is a man's man and in no role is he more manly than that of truck driving, John Wayne channeling Jack Burton. Director David Carpenter made this movie in 1986 as a spoof of the old Westerns, except he set it in modern times. It was sort of a B-grade, Saturday matinee sort of movie with lots of kung fu, magic, monsters, enslavement of beautiful girls, and Chinese gang warfare in San Francisco's Chinatown. A young Kim Cattrall is exceptional as a nosy lawyer who is a spunky, feminist, world-saving cliché. ALL the characters are rather over-the-top, making the movie endlessly entertaining and a verifiable port wine cheese ball.

2. ELO - Yes, I mean the Electric Light Orchestra. For those born after 1980, ELO was the brainchild of British musician Jeff Lynne. He wanted to create pop songs with heavily classical overtones. Man, did he ever succeed! Out Of the Blue, a double album (yes, that was a PRESSED VINYL ALBUM, kids), was probably my favorite slice of ELO cheese. It contained such treasures as Turn To Stone, Sweet Talkin' Woman and Mr. Blue Sky. Let's not forget, however, the McCheesy goodness of other hit singles such as Livin' Thing, Can't Get It Out Of My Head, Evil Woman, Showdown, Telephone Line (extra cheese, please), and Strange Magic (which, when I was a girl, was about as close to an out-of-body experience as I could get). People love or hate ELO. But come on, they had 46 U.S. and U.K. Top 40 hit singles from 1972 to 1986. Forty-freaking-six!! Surely that proves that I was not the only one snacking on this particular slice of extra-creamy gouda.

3. Dr. Seuss's Sleep Book - From the inital admonishment inside the cover ("This Book is to be Read in Bed"), this classic bedtime book is a real childhood gem. It begin with the news that just came in from the County of Keck about a bug named Van Vleck who is yawning so wide you can look down his neck. It takes us from the peculiar phenomenon of the spreading yawn, to bedtime activities like the Herk-Heimer sisters brushing their teeth under a waterfall, through some rather odd sleepwalking, sleep-talking and sleep-biting rituals, to various sleeping habits, places and spaces. It leaves us with an assurance that when we turn out OUR light, the sleep tally will be ninety-nine zillion, nine trillion and three. It always made me extra sleepy (I was always ready to sleep!) and happy to be a contributor to the Whose Asleep Count. A special slice of American cheese.

4. The Sound Of Music - Two words: Julie Andrews. Two more: Rodgers & Hammerstein. Really, anything starring Julie Andrews ranks up there in my wheel of cheese, but TSOM has a special place in my heart. Just last night, at Deb Marlowe's Independence Day Bash, my two daughters, Sabrina Jeffries and I all spontaneously joined in a rousing version of How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? while we burned sparklers. *sigh* A great moment of sublime oneness for us, a fond remembrance for the other women in attendance (especially darling Deb) and a complete and utter WTF moment for males of all ages who were in attendance. They totally don't get it. Deb said, "I'm coming to your house to watch Sound Of Music with you guys!" Yes, she is. I could never deny a woman in need of a cheese fix. And Sound Of Music is the very best sort of cheese fondue!

I could go on all day, but you get a sense of my kind of cheese. I love to be entertained and the cheesier it is, the better I like it. I could wax rhapsodic about the movies of Adam Sandler and Brendan Fraser. Sing you my guilty music pleasures like ABBA and WHAM! The cheesy romance novels are far too many to count. Let me leave it at admitting that Lavyrle Spencer has a sacred segment of my Keeper Shelf all to herself! Just to be extra evil, I slid in the codes so you can click on any of the above images and buy that hunk of cheese for yourself. Hey, I never said I wasn't an enabler. *eg*

What sort of guilty, cheesy pleasure do you indulge in? We promise any information you reveal will never leave the Lair. Unless we all get together in, say, San Francisco and the margaritas are flowing freely. *ahem* Discretion, that's the word! So, what's your favorite kind of cheese?

Traveling Mercies

By Kirsten Scott

I've been doing a lot of traveling lately.

Now, when I say a lot, I don't mean the "commuting to work and leaving town for the weekend" sort of traveling. I mean the "Washington DC, Denver, Los Angeles, Montana, and Florida in one month and home to Oregon in between" sort of traveling. So if you've noticed that I've been scare around the Lair, that's why. I'm actually writing this blog while on vacation on Sanibel Island at a family reunion. The internet connections here are few and far between, and not particularly consistent, so I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best.

The amazing thing is, besides being completely exhausted and ready to stay home for a few weeks (until San Francisco, that is!), I've actually been loving all of the places I've been. Yes, I've been homesick, and yes, I've often repeated Dorothy's words in my head to remind myself that I CAN get back home, but I've also had some amazing experiences along the way. So I thought I'd share them with you!

My first stop was Washington DC. I was there for a work-related conference, and got to stay at a great hotel two blocks from the White House. Now, I don't care how cynical or jaded you think you are -- the sight of the Mall, the Capital, the White House, and the Lincoln Memorial will make you stop and stare, open-mouthed with pride. I have been to DC a handful of times, and every time I get that giddy, full-of-awe feeling when I look around and think about how amazing this country is and how incredible were the people who built it.

Next stop: Denver, Colorado. I was only in Denver for 24 hours, but while there I got to see my brother and take a walk outside along Cherry Creek. Visiting with my brother was the best part of that trip (though seeing the mountains is always a treat). He's much younger than I am, and I still think of him as my baby brother, even though he's within spitting distance of 30. He's doing great -- he has a beautiful, sweet wife, an adorable little dog, and new job with Apple that keeps him traveling even more than me. In short, he's a successful guy with a lovely family, and I still want to muss his hair and pull him into my LAP when I see him. How ridiculous is that? (By the way, that's his little dog. Isn't she cute?)

In Los Angeles, I attended BEA (Book Expo America) and met up with Bandita Kate!! This was so much fun. You know we Banditas are all buddies, but many of us have never met in real life, only chatted over the internet, so the face-to-face is awesome. I admit, I walked right past Kate at BEA, and she had to scream my name for me to recognize her. San Francisco will be even worse. Thank goodness for name tags! I can't put faces with names to save my life. But Kate is just as charming and intelligent and kind as you would imagine, and I hope I get to walk around with her again very soon.

I was in Whitefish, Montana for another conference, right outside Glacier National Park. It was breathtaking. There has been a tremendous amount of rain this year, so everything is green and lush, and the rivers are double their usual size. I took a trail ride in the mountains and bought myself a cowboy hat, and decided when Oprah picks up my book and I become a millionaire, I'm going to buy a few acres in Montana and spend the summers there. But not the winters. I'm too weak for that.

Finally, Florida. I have a seven and five year old, so you can imagine where I spent two of our days. HINT: think mouse. But by far the most fun we had was going to Weikiwa State Park, where we swam in a spring-fed lake and canoed among the turtles and huge, tropical fish. A close second to that was touring the wildlife refuge on Sanibel, where we saw a three-foot gator, incredible birds, and (hopefully later tonight!) a dolphin.

So I've been to the biggest of cities, the dead center of the country, the mountains and the swamps. And this is an incredible country! Now tell me about where you live. What makes it special to you? The scenery? The people? The buildings? The wildlife? Tell me about your hometown -- and if you can convince me I've got to leave home for a visit, I'll send you a $15 AMAZON gift certificate!

Celebrate Responsibly

by Susan Seyfarth

I love the way alcohol companies always remind you to celebrate reponsibly at the end of every commerical. First there are all the golden, toned, beautiful people consuming their alcoholic beverages while having impossible amounts of good, clean fun. And then there's the reminder that you are not these people, okay? You aren't this good-looking, your friends aren't this fun, & if you think you are, well, you're probably a bit past the point of drinking responsibly anyhow. But just so we're clear: Overuse of this product will make you fat, lazy, & liable to do things that may seem like good ideas but in actual point of fact are not.

What amuses me most about these commercials, however, is not the tension between buy our product in vast quantities and don't drink it all at once for god's sake. No, what I really adore about them is the fact that most of the hairiest incidents of my life--the ones where I truly feared for my safety--are never alcohol related.

They're mostly dad related.

Yeah. My dad's one of those. What we in the writing business call a character. He's a fire starter, a misuser of power tools & a lover of high-speed anything. And he's stone-cold sober. I've seen him holding a beer once in my entire life & it was because a neighbor handed him an open can at a Fourth of July barbeque. He set it down shortly thereafter, untouched & went on to light one of the most enormous fires I've ever seen in person.

I was in eighth grade, I think. My mom was in Ireland for the first time since her family emigrated when she was nine, so my dad had full responsibility for all four of us girls, ranging in age from ten to eighteen. He figured his odds of containing us were better if we were secluded at the end of a huge peninsula, so we took off for our cottage in Northern Michigan. (Not the Upper Peninsula, just the northern bit of the mitten. We Michiganders are sticklers about such things, so get it straight, 'kay?)

Anyway, the Fourth of July, usually a big hit at the lake, was rainy & cool. And nobody can sulk like a cottage full of teenagers (plus one precocious pre-teen) whose favorite sport is slathering on the baby oil & roasting themselves until they can peel huge sheets of burnt skin off their backs at night. My father had promised us a weekend full of sunshine, fireworks & bonfires when he'd dragged us away from our friends for the holiday, but conditions weren't favorable for any of the above.

The weather was out of his hands, but by god he could light us a fire. After an hour of blowing on a grudging puff of smoke, however, Dad decided to break out the gas can. Unfortunately, he failed to first ascertain that the spark he'd been nursing for the last hour was, indeed, out cold.

It was not.

One minute Dad was dumping gas onto a pile of blackened sticks, then next we all were crouched behind the over-turned rowboat watching a gas-can-turned-Molotov-cocktail roar toward the cottage while Dad & Uncle Bill used a whole lot of words we ourselves knew but hadn't previously been aware they knew. And if you're wondering? Yes, indeed, that is the sort of spectacle that'll wipe the boredom off a sulky teenaged face.

I don't know if my dad's lucky or blessed or what, but before the can could level the cottage & blow us all to kingdom come, it suddenly & inexplicably changed course. It stopped, hung a left & rolled into the lake, where it fizzled harmlessly into a charred, twisted reminder that one should never encourage a reluctant flame with an entire can of gas.

Strangely enough, this brush with death left us euphoric rather than shaken. We'd all looked death (if not by raging flame, certainly by my mother's wrath should she ever hear of this incident) in the eye, & escaped. Plus, there was a lovely roaring fire now. Mostly in the fire pit, too. There was some char on the grass, & the birch trees were all lopsided due to twenty foot flames, but as far as marshmallow roasters go, this was a nice one.

Suffice it to say, we weren't put off giant fires the way you might expect. And just to prove it, here's a photo of us last summer at the cottage with one of my dad's tamer efforts. I wish you could see it in the picture, but there's a row of birch trees behind the fire pit that have just given up growing leaves at all on the one side. No point when my dad's still got a can of gas, some matches & a pile of brush that needs torching.

How about you? Are there any characters in your family who keep you supplied with inspiration every time the blank page dares you to fill it up with something outlandish? Any family celebrations that keep the neighbors on their toes? Let's hear it, & Happy Fourth of July!

Intelligence Report

Code Name: Golden Rooster

Day 467 in the Bandit Lair

This assignment has been the most taxing of my undercover career thus far. These women ("Banditas", as they are locally known) are exhausting & elusive creatures. My efforts to ingratiate myself to them so as to better observe them in their natural habitat have been slow to render the sort of intimacy my research requires. As a group, they seem to have an inordinate fondness for sweet biscuits ("Tim Tams") & luridly colored alcoholic beverages. My ability to observe them individually has been severely curtailed by their implausible habit of raffling me off to early risers for 24 hour periods.

I have made every effort to make these out-of-Lair sojourns productive, however. There was an extremely edifying 24-48 hours of explosives & firearms training, which may come in handy during the next Party in the Lair. "Launch parties" in particular have been known to provoke a most extreme demonstration of enthusiasm & joy, during which time Tim Tams & pink drinks are consumed in alarming quantities, chandelier are swung upon & largely unclothed young men wander unchecked, offering anything from drinks to personal massages. I have escaped molestation by luck alone.

That said, however, I have managed to glean a few bits of classified information which I will now share with you. I will use code names, as this line is most surely monitored. Use the following data as wisdom permits:

Bandita A: Carries an enormous satchel in which she smuggles large quantities of junk food into movie theatres. Also stockpiles DQ Blizzards in her freezer so as to conceal the number she chooses to consume in a given day.

Bandita B: Despite being a "Southern girl" and, as such, bred to prize personal grooming above all else save good manners, has no compunction about appearing in public in grass-stained jeans, a messy ponytail, and an ancient t-shirt, smelling of lawn mower.

Bandita C: Though ostensibly a "medical professional" has a well-documented addiction to State Fair corn dogs.

Bandita D: Nothing chocolate is safe around this Bandita, though in an effort to balance the scales, she consumes equal amounts of Diet Coke and Diet Dr. Pepper.

Bandita E: Has a disturbing love of cooking & cooking-related TV. Treated me to a horrifying phenomenon known as the (shudder) “National Chicken Cook-off” show during a brief stint under her supervision. Seems to have an unnatural obsession with chicken-cide evidenced by her forcing me to bet on a trifecta at Churchill Downs where Who’s your Colonel, Passingravy and Finger Lickin Lady were running. Regretfully, I won.

Bandita F: Forced me to partake of a delicacy known as Underwood Deviled Ham - a canned pork product that contains an entire day's allowance of sodium, I believe. I suspect this was part of a pagan ritual of sorts as she consumed the entire can while wearing Birkenstocks with socks and dancing to ELO's "Turn to Stone".

Bandita G: Engages in an odd ritual in which she reads the first quarter of a book, then the ending, then the remaining 3/4s. I suspect it could be the influence of a neon green beverage she mainlines labeled "Mt. Dew."

Bandita H: Maintains that while she doesn't drink anymore, she "certainly doesn't drink any less." Avers that, though the Aussie girls can drink her under the table, she does "love a cocktail." [A term I find offensive, if I may register a personal aside.]

Bandita I: Secretly uses her "writing time" to cruise the most scurrilous of celebrity gossip websites. Paris Hilton is a dear friend of hers.

Bandita J: Actually prefers instant coffee to the real thing. This is not surprising given her other feeding habits. I personally witnessed her eating Potato Gems dipped in Thai sweet chili sauce straight off the oven tray.

Bandita K: Has an extreme footwear fetish--countless pairs of shoes litter her quarters--but she seldom actually wears them, preferring to go barefoot most days.

That is the extent of my current intelligence. I regret I have failed to glean more from my time here. I have been forced to adopt the habits of the natives so as to avoid suspicion. This has resulted in enduring a few massive hangovers & the addition of perhaps 5-10 lbs in Tim Tam weight.

I await your instructions.

Sincerely,

GR

Goth Turns Golden

by Cassondra Murray

A few years ago I joined a local chapter of RWA and met its published authors. Among those authors was a lady memorable because of her long red hair, clear Celtic complexion and her awesome offbeat black outfits. But most memorable was her sense of genuine care and consideration for me as a new member, my writing, my career as a writer-- her kindness.

It's probably a good thing that I didn't know WHO SHE WAS at the time. I might have been intimidated. Granted, she hadn't quite become an international phenomenon (I love saying that) but she was well on her way.

Now she is one. She and her Dark Hunters have a worldwide following that obliterates boundaries that normally separate readers--boundaries like age, gender and genre preference. Yet, she's still that same encouraging, generous person I met at my first local meeting. And in spite of her long list of accomplishments, that's what still impresses me most about this woman.


Since that first meeting, Sherrilyn Kenyon has gone on to become a #1 NYT Bestseller, with more than 15 million books in print, and is poised to blow those numbers out of the water with her next release.

She’s in the middle of her next project for St. Martin’s Press, but she was kind enough to visit us in the lair, and answer some questions posed by the Banditas and their friends.

If you've been to her website, or heard her keynote speeches, you know that Sherri has had her share, and a lot more, of overcoming the odds to make her life and her career work.

She's walked through the fire of financial devastation, markets turned cold to her writing, illness and hospitalization with her pregnancies, death of beloved family members, and nearly losing her newborn child.


When you hear her story, you aren't left with a lot of excuses for not following your dream. She’ll tell you she’s not one for looking back. She’s about moving forward. Still, I’ve wondered what sustained her through all of that. I asked her how she's managed to hold on to her "self"—that woman I met at my first RWA meeting. I think I'd be a jaded, hard and unfeeling person by now. But Sherri isn't.

“The thing that kept me going was my family,” she said, “and my characters’ unwillingness to let go until their story was told.”

Sherri has written stuff other than romance, but she’s made her mark writing about relationships—in particular relationships that lead to redemption—for those who “shouldn’t” have it according to traditional standards. How did such a multi-faceted writer come to focus on love and happily-ever-after? Honestly, how did a Goth chick from Georgia end up writing some of the most powerful love stories of our generation? Other than the obvious roof over her head, what do these love stories do for Sherri Kenyon?

“ I've had to overcome a lot of heartache and loss in my life,” Sherri said. “Especially in my childhood. My friend Kim let me borrow one of her romance novels and I was forever changed. The characters had bad things happen to them in their lives and you know what? They got to live HAPPILY EVER AFTER! That showed me that in life, you can have many trials. Sometimes, even things you wouldn't believe you'd live through, but in the end, you can have a HAPPILY EVER AFTER like the characters.”

Sherri is adamant about this.

“I believe in romance as a reality, not a fairy tale, and it's the believing that characters and people are worthy of having someone to love and someone to love them in return that is the basis for my stories, and sharing that with the fans is a joy.”

It's clear that Sherri honestly appreciates each one of those fans. I once got to hear her talk about the business of writing during a university class, where she said, "I know how hard it is to earn seven dollars, or fifteen dollars, and this person has chosen to take that hard-earned money and spend it on my book. I will never take that for granted." Sherri has always said the most gratifying moments for her are those when a fan says her books have touched them in some way.

Author Dianna Love spent a good part of 2007 with Sherri on a whirlwind book tour, and got to see the writer-fan interactions up close and personal.

"I was impressed by her sincere interest in every person who walked up to her at a signing," Dianna said. "In the lobby of a hotel, at the airports (when we are normally run hard after being in a different city every day for several weeks), in a restaurant - wherever. She has the nicest fans. They will arrive hours in advance of a signing - numbering over 150 at each of last year's stops so I expect even more this year. They visit with each other, laughing as they share stories or are excited to meet someone in person they only knew by an online name. 40% of Sherri's readers are men. Many couples come together,bringing their children. Sherri brings lots of things to give away and everyone is given a free raffle ticket so we can give away special items. Our goal is that signings are always an event. And she is just as real and caring as what everyone sees at the signings."



This is a big year for Sherrilyn Kenyon. The Dream Hunter release, Upon The Midnight Clear hit #1 on the NYT in November 2007.





Dream-Chaser hit #1 on the NYT in Feb 2008.



On top of that, she's just released Phantom In The Night, a collaboration with Dianna Love. Sherri talked a little about what it was like to work with another writer.


“The B.A.D. Agency collaboration was tremendous fun. Dianna and I worked well together and she's an amazing writer.”


I’ve heard Dianna and Sherri joke about their time together living moment to moment trying to make the next book signing as they toured around the country, and about their crazy back and forth dialogues as they worked on Phantom through it all. But what came out was a really interesting blend of the two voices. I’ve read Sherri’s books, and of course, Dianna’s, but this didn’t sound like either—and yet it sounded like both. Almost a whole new “writer” formed from two.

" We became close friends long before we ever considered working together," Dianna said. " Sherri...would never intentionally hurt someone’s feelings and neither would I, which is why we had to have a very honest conversation about writing together. We both believe a successful collaboration depends on honesty and agreed on “no sacred cows” – that anyone’s words were up for editing – because the most important thing to both of us was the final story. We laughed a lot. I think a similarity between us is to not take ourselves too seriously, which made discussing ideas and changes easy. "


“It's like fitting a puzzle together.” Sherri said. “Dianna has certain strengths and I have certain strengths and together they just sort of fit. "

"We spent some time discussing the difference in our styles--" Dianna said, "with her trademark humor and I write dark/edgy – to assure we could create a strong story while not damaging our friendship. It takes a great deal of trust to work together. Neither of us had any idea what it would be like to collaborate, no plan, no guidelines. We just went for it. We both wrote through every page to give the story a seamless feel. We were both invested in only one thing – to write the best story we could. "

"Of course, we'd laugh at each other and disagree just like any team," Sherri said, "but in the end I believe we've forged a great partnership.”

And a successful one. Phantom In The Night hit the NYT list on June 19th, and it's remained there for the past two weeks.


There's a bit of a crackle in the air right now—it's the anticipation—so thick you can taste it. This is it.

The Year of Acheron.




There's a counter on Sherri’s website, counting down the days, minutes, and even milli-seconds until the release of Acheron. Fans have waited a long time for Ash to get his story. We've hurt with him, ached for him as we saw him through the stories of the Dark Hunters. This is a pivotal book in the series. Knowing how Sherri feels about her characters—that they’re real—alive—I had to wonder if this was a particularly emotional story for her to tell. Was it difficult for her to approach?

“Definitely,” Sherri said. “Acheron's story is an emotional one. It was hard to write because I've had him to myself for so long, nurturing him and now he's going out into the big, bad world. I hope the readers experience the emotions I went through while telling the story of his life.”


Sherri has said that characters have often gotten in her way and demanded their own stories, not in the order she’d intended. Was Ash cooperative with his story when the time came to write it?

“Yes, he was. I've had the bulk of it written for many years before I sat down to put the pieces together. There were a few moments when I felt like I was being put through the ringer right there with him, but in the end it felt liberating to get it all out.”


I asked Sherri what’s different about Acheron’s book from the others in the series. I’d read that it’s a longer book, but I sensed, from Sherri’s demeanor, that this is an unveiling of sorts—a revealing of something powerful and close to her heart. There’s an intensity about Sherri when she speaks of Acheron.

“Acheron's book is an epic tale. It's HIS story,” she said. “Of course you have the romance as well, but Acheron's story holds true to his title. The fans will know everything there is to know about Ash when they've finished reading.”


I've seen a little of Sherri’s schedule and gotten a sense of the crazy, hectic life-on-tour she’s leading as a hit writer on a roll. It’s clear she appreciates the opportunities she’s earned, but I have to wonder how she does it. It’s the Fourth of July week as I’m writing this. A time for most people to relax and enjoy family. But for Sherrilyn Kenyon, the Year Of Acheron is about to kick into high gear. She was in the middle of a manuscript when she paused to give this interview.

I asked Sherri if there was such a thing as a break for her nowadays. She laughed out loud.

“It's going to be wild for the next couple of months with the tour, K-Con, Comic-Con, just to name a few. I pretty much work around the clock. Luckily, I get to work a lot from home so I can see my family.” She smiled when she spoke of her kids. “Sometimes when I’m traveling I can take my children with me so I don't have to miss them. But yes, I do stay busy.”


Sherri is on the road a LOT. A writing career—any career—with kids is a tough thing to juggle, and a lot of writers know those struggles well. But she’s managed to nudge a growing writing career into an exploding one, all while juggling a young family, including a son with autism. I wondered if the special needs of her child’s autism had changed her. Has it made her a different person—a different WRITER even—than she would have otherwise been?

“ I understand and have always understood what its like to overcome adversity,” she said. “I've had to do it and my son has to live with it on a daily basis. So that could be why I put my characters through so much.” She laughed as she said that, then she grew thoughtful. “I think that any parent with a special needs child learns patience and how truly important it is to love your child for who they are and not who society expects them to be. I am truly blessed to have him in my life.”

On top of all that, Sherrilyn Kenyon, one of the most prolific, fastest writers I know, has dyslexia. When I asked her if she ever got frustrated she laughed again.

“Well,” she said, “I love spellcheck.”


Sherri has to be able to write anywhere, under almost any conditions because she has to keep up the pace for herself, her publishers, and her readers. I asked her how she connects with her “voices” and preserves her creative flow when things were going nuts around her.

“It's hard,” she said, and nodded. “But once I sink into my world and get into the zone, I'm there. The world could possibly fall down around me and I'm still there living with my characters and telling their story.”


Bandita Suz had a couple of questions for Sherri. Suz wondered about the difficulties inherent in writing a long-standing series while still staying true to your vision as an author. Does Sherri ever find the two at cross-purposes? Has she ever felt the temptation to cave to please readers, or go in a direction she hadn’t planned with characters or plot? (And Cassondra adds, knowing Sherri’s characters, would they ever LET her do this?)

“No. I've always done exactly what the characters have told me to do. I think its important as a writer to stay true to them.”


Sherri is one of the most brilliant promoters I’ve ever encountered. Everything from her merchandise for signings to her websites and the emblems she uses for branding. Suz also had a question about those websites. She’s used them to great advantage, and Suz wondered if Sherri credits those websites with helping to build her fan base to what it is today, and does she believe good use of a website can help a writer sell?

“Yes, the websites helped to get the word out,” Sherri said. “I don't know if there's an exact way to help a writer sell. It's just so different for every writer. When I pitched my series and told them I had a website already, some of the editors thought I was nuts. So, it’s just different for everyone.”

Sherri’s bottom line was this.

“Never give up. If you give up, your dreams will never become a reality.”

For my last question to Sherri, I saved the one sent by my husband, Steve, who also happens to be one of Sherrilyn’s fans. Since Sherri writes about things that go bump in the night, Steve asks, “What scares Sherrilyn Kenyon?”

Sherri said, “The color pink.”

So, Bandita friends, What scares YOU?

Are you afraid of the dark?

Do you believe in angels, demons, and their ilk?

Have you ever slept with the light on? (I have.)

Do you have a favorite Sherrilyn Kenyon story? Does one of her Dark Hunters haunt your dreams?

Do you keep the lights on after reading her books? Or do you sleep better believing the Dark Hunters are stalking the night in your defense?

And the prize goes to . . .

Buffie!!!

Yay!!!

Send your snail mail addy to jo.lewisrobertson@yahoo.com to redeem your prizes

Congratulations, Buffie!

Coming Attractions: July

Welcome to another month of the Romance Bandits' usual works of staggering genius! In addition to our usual lineup of vastly amusing & edifying blogs, we've also scheduled scads of fabulous interviews & guest bloggers this month. Please join us in welcoming the following folks to the Lair!

July 2: Cassondra Murray reports on her chat with the amazing Sherrilyn Kenyon! And it's rumored that Dianna Love Snell may swing by the Lair as well...

July 7: Terri Garey is in the Lairy (sorry, couldn't help it. It rhymed.) Courtesy of Beth Andrews! Terri, a double RITA finalist, takes a lighthearted look at the dark side with her fabulous series about Nicki Styx, a former Goth girlwho becomes an unwilling ghoulfriend to the dead. Her most recent release, A Match Made In Hell is currently available.

July 16: Nancy Northcott brings us Patricia Rice. They'll chat about her 45th (!) book, a paranormal historical called Mystic Rider. Patricia's a bestseller, a multiple RT award winner (as well as other awards) and a 3-time RITA nominee.

July 17th: Aunt Cindy (aka Loucinda McGary) will chat with Deb Werksman, her fabulous editor at Sourcebooks!

July 21: Suzanne Welsh hosts the fiery Jo Davis!

July 22nd: Caren Crane chats with the elusive Liz Carlyle! Those of you who are fans of Ms. Carlyle's NYT-bestselling dark, steamy historical romances may realize she is rather a hermit and creeps out only under duress. Caren, it is reported, jumped her as she left Whole Foods and sat on her organic kumquats until she agreed to appear in the Lair. In addition to being, you know, HERE, she may also talk about her much-anticipated July release Never Romance a Rake. Oh, my!

Now as many of you know, RWA is hosting its annual conference in San Francisco this year, July 30 - August 2. Many of the Romance Bandits will be there, which means you in the Lair will have a front row seat as we stalk editors, agents & our favorite authors in their natural habitats. During this time, we may find ourselves temporarily unable to create your traditional, well-thought-out & properly punctuated blogs, complete with lovely photos. In its place, however, we'll do our absolute best to supply you all with breaking news, delicious gossip & incriminating photos. Bookmark this page & stay tuned...

Happy July!