More than a couple of people have mentioned that I should do Cabana Boys from across the pond, specifically from the various BBC shows. Now, I don't pretend to know all of the shows, but I have a more than passing familiarity with a few and with the lovely boys who populate said shows, so, why not?

One of my first favorites was lovely, lovely Lloyd Owen. I first decided I loved the gorgeous eyes and equally gorgeous speaking voice when he played Young Indy's father on The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles. Imagine my glee when he showed up on BBC Scotland's Monarch of the Glen as long-lost bastard brother Paul. Seemed like people were mostly hot for Archie (Alastair Mackenzie) but oh no, I liked Paul. What's not to like?

As Henry Jones, Sr. & a shot from Monarch.


( Let's swim across the pond, shall we? )

( And because Dr. Who/Torchwood have their own special category of pretty, a separate cut for them )

And just to leave you with one of my favorite shots of pretty... John and James.



ION, I'm guest blogging today over at Romancing the Blog on how a book's birth can be compared to the gestation period of the elephant. Seriously. No, I'm not just a little loopy these days.

Courtesy of Ron Hogan at GalleyCat:

Why Genre Tags Don't Matter

Michael Chabon showed up for the creative writing program at University of California-Irvine in the mid-1980s with a head full of Italo Calvino, Jorge Luis Borges, and Donald Barthelme... but also J.G. Ballard, Michael Moorcock, and Ursula K. LeGuin. The plan, he told me as we chatted in a hotel bar last week, was to write "intensely literary fiction that was equally steeped in genre," but he soon found that his classmates were completely befuddled and unwilling to critique the stories he was submitting. "I didn't want to get into a fight every time I presented a story," he recalled, so he wound up writing The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, which ultimately became his debut novel, as an attempt at working within the traditional coming-of-age genre. "In a way, it was a kind of retreat," he admits, "and I've been... sneaking out at first, but now more clearly into the place I always wanted to be."

*snip*

"I don't know why it's such a big deal," [Jeffrey] Ford said of the genre-straddling, to which Chabon replied, "The people it matters the least to are the ones who are doing it.

I'm sitting here thinking, OMG, he really gets it. He really, really gets it. Which is, why he might not be my favorite author, he's most definitely my favorite writer.

And on a day when I needed to see it and remember what it is I love doing.

Everything really was hitting me wrong there, wasn't it? And that's considering I had New Shoes. Ah well, is what it is. Just goes to show that when the writing's a struggle, it has the potential to really color everything else. Not to mention, being cooped up in the house all week with sick children probably didn't do any great wonders for my mood either. *sigh*

And yes, while this new story is right there in my mind and I know exactly how I want it to go, the fact that I'm working in Third Person POV for the first time in years is making this a struggle. One thing I'm finding is that with Third, precise word choice seems to take on even more importance than it does in First. In some ways, there's infinitely more variety because in First, the language, both narrative and dialogue, is pretty firmly informed by the character and their circumstances. (One of my pet peeves in First Person POV YA is when a teen comes off sounding like a thirty-five year old divorcée.)

The pacing and POV shifts are giving me slight fits too, but I'm sure I'll figure it out. I'd really like to get another chunk of this story down over the weekend because I'm expecting a new revision letter for Carmen from Lovely Editor either sometime today or early next week. Yeah, just because I rocked the revisions this time around doesn't mean I don't have some more work to do. I really, really want to take this book to the next level and however many revisions it requires, that's what I'll do.

So let's make this a Good News Friday—tell me good stuff, y'all. I'll start. My darling pix_kristin is finally on the mend after a nasty bout of pneumonia. Now she just needs to take care of herself and not overdo it.

And did I mention I got New Shoes? *g* And I've lost three pounds since coming back from the Vacation of Excess. And this coming Tuesday brings all sorts of new release music including Jason Mraz, Josh Groban, Gavin DeGraw, and Duffy. All Good Things. Oh, and gaelbrady done slain the Class from Hell and got herself an A!! WOOT!

Now tell me more.

Remember? If the revisions didn't suck? These?




As for your Carmen revision, you've done such a great job this time around! There were so many instances when I literally exclaimed out loud: "Yes!"

*preens*

Heh. Heh heh heh heh heh.

And debg, be on notice, I will be on the lookout for anything that may potentially bop me over the head. And those shoes may just be Super Glued onto my feet. :-P

My lovely, darling, and occasionally cranky CP, Selah is pimping my National Reader's Choice Awards final over on her blog today, God love her, as well as pimping herself in a rare show of promotion type effort. (I'm proud of you, pet.) Turns out her long novella, Hardcore has been nominated for the the "Best Other Works" category of the Gaylactic Spectrum Awards which honor outstanding works of science fiction, fantasy and horror which include significant positive explorations of gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered characters, themes, or issues.

In addition, she's been receiving good reviews out the wazoo, not just for one but two different stories. By my count, that's three different stories that have received some sort of recent notice and if that don't rock, I don't know what does. Seriously. Go, read, check it out, especially since rumor has it, she may actually be running *gasp* a contest for her next release, There Came a Killing Frost, due out in June. (She's a machine, I tell you.)

In other pimpish news, my lovely and incredibly talented agency-mate and buddy, Carrie Lofty, has written a kick ass review of It's Not About the Accent. Although it would appear I've now promised to write her a non-slimy frat boy. *g* I'll do that in my spare time, between the Big Plans our Lovely Agent has for us.

(Seriously. She really does have Big Plans. Long-term Plans. Kind of makes you wanna do the five year-old potty dance Plans. Carrie and I will no doubt have matching ulcers and Xanax prescriptions before this is all over.)


Finally, a poll! There's going to be a new Chica Lit blog tour in May! *pauses for whistles and stomping to die down*

This is my question for y'all. We don't really have a theme for this tour and in fact, some of the participants may be writing non-fiction type pieces. However, if there's something you'd rather see from me, let me know. I'm easy. (You know what I mean! Pervs)

Poll #1179610 Chica Lit Blog Tour Poll
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

What should Barb write for her next Chica Lit Blog Tour entry?

And next question...

Poll #1179611 Chica Lit Blog Tour Poll
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Should it be romantic women's fic or YA?

Well, not totally nothing, because this is me we're talking about. I have to do laundry and figure out which bills need to be paid as I emerge from the haze of Deadline Fog. The laundry is especially important because the rugrats are on their Spring Break and we are headed in a matter of days for a few days at the Happiest Place on Earth, so clean skivvies are definitely a must. And remembering whether or not I actually have a bathing suit that I'm willing to wear in public.

And because I'm me, the Girls in the Basement don't care one whit that I'm emerging from Deadline Fog—they've assaulted me with two new story ideas, one a straight up romance, which I'm sure I'll manage to screw up, and the other a YA. Never mind that I have Between Here and Gone to get back to. *glares at Girls*

So I sit here, in my pajamas, with my coffee and contemplating the laundry. (*shudder*) So I'll do a meme. Gakked from Various and Sundry around my flist.

Music meme: List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your LJ along with your 7 songs.

In no particular order, other than #7, which is currently my favorite song on the planet.

1) Spell- Maríe Digby

2) Mercy- Duffy

3) Nara- E.S. Posthumus

4) Lola- Chayanne

5) No Te Pido Flores- Fanny Lu

6) Billie Jean (Studio version)- David Cook

7) Butterfly (Casa Nova session)- Jason Mraz

I adore his wordplay and he's got such a solid music sensibility. To quote debg I'd do him in Macy's window.

Curl your upper lip up and let me look around
Ride your tongue along your bottom lip and bite down
And bend your back and ask those hips if I can touch
Because they’re the perfect jumping off point of getting closer to your

Butterfly
Well you float on by
Oh kiss me with your eyelashes tonight
Or Eskimo your nose real close to mine
And let’s mood the lights and finally make it right
But you don’t fold, you don’t fade, you’ve got everything you need
Especially me
Sister you’ve got it all

An acoustic radio station performance. Can't wait for the full CD version which is apparently totally sexed up with some major jazz horns and percussion.

Thanks so much everyone for all your congrats and good wishes yesterday. I must say, it was quite an amazing feeling, overall, to be done and taking a deep breath and send the little bugger on its way to Lovely Editor (who proclaimed me a rock star—heh).

I had me a celebratory shower and even shaved my legs—woot! And had pizza (six cheese with Roma tomatoes, mmmmm...) And then I collapsed in bed with a book that wasn't mine! And the television! Double WOOOT.

(The Cabana Boys were too tired to do much of anything other than collapse *angles suspicious stare sartorias' way*)

Anyhow, in honor of the book being DONE, I'm going to maybe read some more. Hee! And of course, the paranoia is setting in, so I'll be waiting on pins and needles to hear what Lovely Editor thinks of it.

And because my darling amaliedageek was feeling cranky yesterday and made reference to Persephone with respect to the contrary weather in her neck of the woods, I thought I'd post a little Teaser... erm, Wednesday. It's Wednesday, right?

stephanielynch, I also thought of you when I wrote this section. *g*

Okay, anyhow.

From Whatever CARMEN'S title is going to be...
copyright 2008, Barbara Caridad Ferrer

**

She reached past me to the table while I rolled my eyes. "Oye, Mamacita, maybe now's not—"

"Tranquilate."

There was no escaping the woman when she had that determined aura going yet she had the nerve to be telling me to calm down? But again, she surprised me—instead of handing me the deck she simply turned it over and began thumbing through the cards, obviously looking for something. When she found it, she pulled it out, holding it out to me.

"¿Te acuerdas?"

I nodded and shivered, looking at the Death card, even though I know it didn't literally mean death, and in and of itself, it wasn't considered a bad card. Not a card one could easily forget—especially in this deck, the one with the lovers that she'd used for me so many months back. It was actually an incredibly beautiful, haunting card, depicting Pluto, god of the underworld, with Persephone. Now, you want to talk about a seriously dysfunctional relationship—

"It's the truest interpretation of this card, I think," she said, turning it so she could study the illustration as well. "This myth of love and transformation and rebirth. Of what can happen when one resists change."

She set the card down on top of the envelope with Jonathan's letter and went back to skimming through the deck. "After you went to bed that night, I pulled one more card."

I looked at the card she was showing me, my eyes going wide. "Oh come on, you are so making that up," I declared, cringing almost the second the words left my mouth because she was liable to smack me upside the head for dissing the Tarot… But seriously.

"Desire? Tristan and Isolde?" And their tragic, ill-fated, crazy-making love affair? Please. "Isn't that a little…" I chose my next word carefully, still aware of the possibility of getting smacked upside the head. "Convenient?"

"Do you know which card this is meant to represent?"

I shook my head.

"It is this deck's equivalent of the Chariot. Do you remember what that means?"

"Umm…"

She sighed. "Movement. Fate. Transition."

"And again, I repeat, convenient?"

Now I got the Evil Eye. "I can't control how you feel, m'ija. I'm just telling you what I saw. Whether or not you choose to believe or what you do with the knowledge, that's up to you. Remember—"

"It's just a guide," I finished in tandem with her. "For what, though?"

"That's up to you, too."

I AM DONE!!!!

DONE DONE DONE LIKE A DONE THING!!

Cue the fireworks and inspirational music and cabana boys, because baby, I. Am. DONE!

I hate my working title.

I just thought of one, but I don't know if it makes sense or if it just really sounds good to my exhausted brain.

Once, I Was Carmen

(Lovely Editor wants to really incorporate "Carmen" into the title—otherwise, I'd lobby hard for Roses In My Hands)

I'm hunting deadwines...

This is what I want this story to be. How I want it to make people feel.

But it's of the laughing variety.

Some time back I read a review of Adiós that criticized my depiction of Fabiana. That the villain of the piece also dressed like a cheap hooker and that it was a little too obvious and virgin/whore for their taste, since Ali dressed in such a conservative manner.

That's when I realized I'd screwed up. Because seriously, how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her being the villain. That was just a collateral bonus. Really, it had more to do with her burning desire to make it in the Latin entertainment industry where dressing like a cheap hooker is de rigeuer. I even wrote in a Venezuelan beauty queen who had highly questionable taste in clothing.

Case in point, the Billboard Latin Music Awards were held last night and televised on Spanish-language station, Telemundo. Because it's not as high profile an event as say, the Grammys or even the Latin Grammys, the press coverage isn't as thorough, but I have uncovered more than a few photos that support my assertion. Tons of ill-fitting satin and obscenely short skirts, and missing panels of material and enough silicone to raise the Titanic. The real shame of it is that I haven't been able to find any good photos of the female host in some of the numbers she sported throughout the show because Oh. My. God. Her outfits just... defied description. Seriously. They made the infamous Versace that J.Lo wore to the Grammys years ago:



look like a nun's habit.

ETA: HA!! Finally found a picture of the host, Aylin Mujica. While this isn't from last night, this is very similar in... shall we say, flavor to some of her get ups.



Admittedly, Latin women, we're not so much with the discretion and while there's a certain joy to be found in that, there are times you just want to say, draw back... just a little... please









There was even a tacky beauty queen, completely substantiating my theory!



Which is not to say that all of the outfits were terrible. There were some very pretty dresses last night. My favorite was this red number:



So... lesson learned. I should have populated Adiós with a few more tackily dressed women to show that how Fabiana dressed had nothing to do with her status as the villain. It just was. :-)

Back to my revisions where my Carmen character doesn't even come close to dressing like a cheap hooker.

That by 8:13, I'd had two cups of Sumatra and was on my first Diet Coke of the day?

I'm not sure I've ingested caffeine in quite this manner since college.

I just ruthlessly cut one of my very favoritist scenes. This was a scene I'd envisioned from the very first conception of the story and I just eviscerated it.

AUGH!

Which begs the question—at what point do you sacrifice flavor and atmosphere for pacing?

*sigh*

ETA: Okay, I'll post at least a snippet of the scene. Why not, right?

Set up—this is just one of the ways in which drum & bugle corps geeks pass the time on looooonnnnnng drives

***

As the bus shifted into gear and began slowly pulling out of the parking lot, a shrill, cab-hailing whistle drew our attention to the front where Raj was holding court over the entertainment unit. Still blew my mind, every time I stepped on this bus. It was unreal, all comfortable seats and roomy overheads and television screens every few rows with a killer sound system. Again, mad props to the viejitas and their love for the bingo, allowing us to travel in style.

"Music or movies, people?"

Squinting up towards the front, I could just tell he was waving around one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

"Por tú madre, Raj, please, no more Legolas," I yelled out, which earned me an elegant finger, but I was the one with the reinforcements as other voices chimed in with, "Yeah, save the movies for when we're driving through Iowa and corn fields for days."

"Fine, you cranky bitches—music it is." But he didn't actually give us any choices, quickly selecting a CD and slipping it in. Then proceeded to sit back and grin like an idiot as the opening strains of "Bohemian Rhapsody" flowed through the speakers and we all laughed our collective asses off.

Next to me, Jonathan was grinning as we watched Raj doing his best overwrought conductor routine, cueing one half of the bus, then the other, to sing along with the various parts. Even I joined in, even though my voice wasn't exactly what anyone would call lyrical, but then again, finesse wasn't exactly what we were going for here. This was loud, with a hefty side of dramatic, especially as we got to the operatic interlude, with its "scaramouche" and "fandango" and at the very end of it, that insane falsetto note that Jonathan, who'd been singing louder and louder, let loose with, hitting it perfectly, and sending me into a fit of hysterical laughter.

After that, it was total Wayne and Garth, with the headbanging and the air drumming and more laughter and Jonathan, holding me tight against him and looking so carefree as he smiled and joked with the guys around us, it made my heart turn over.

He looked down at me, face flushed all over again.

"God, I should've quit the horn bus way before this."

"You don't do this on the horn bus?"

"Oh, we listen to music, sure, but it's always some hardcore jazz or something seriously progressive and obscure. Or old corps shows—those are always popular. A lot of times, too, we'd play through the show on our mouthpieces—trying to get it ever more perfect."

"Are you serious?"

"It's more fun than it sounds."

Who was he trying to convince, me—or him?

"Really?" Not trying to sound judgmental—honestly. Especially with the way the smile was fading from his face.

"I thought so," he admitted with a shrug, ducking his head down, face turned away.

"Hey." I stroked my fingers through his hair and along his jaw until he looked at me again. "I used to think ten hour ballet rehearsals rocked. We're evolving."

His hand rose to trap mine against his cheek. "Couldn't do it without you."

Although his words made me go equal parts warm and fierce inside, I felt compelled to reassure him. "Sure you could."

Slowly, he shook his head, his lips brushing against my palm which had the effect of making me feel his words as well as hear them. "No, I really couldn't."

First author ever to be a finalist for an Edgar, a Nebula, and a Hugo for the same book. The book in question is The Yiddish Policeman's Union by the indubitably talented Michael Chabon.

Which begs the question in my subject line. What allows an author or a book, even, to transcend labels and just become a "good book," regardless of genre. Obviously, Chabon is a rare, rare talent, of this, there is absolutely no doubt. But at the same time, I find myself wondering, is part of it also because it's a male-author penned novel? Is it because of the genres it's spanning? Is it because he's an already proven commodity, as it were, and editors are willing to accept a riskier manuscript from someone like him?

Of course, I wonder these things because of the many, many, many times I've found myself slapped down because of daring to attempt to span genres in what I write. To try to defy labels.

And no, in no way do I think I'm even close to Chabon in talent—the timing's just convenient. sartorias, I'd especially love your take on this.

Especially directed at those with a YA persuasion, but anyone can weigh in. This weekend, there was an unfortunate brouhaha that exploded between two groups of 2009 debut authors. (Deets here) Thing is, from what I understand, it didn't need to happen at all—one is an informal chat group, the other is an organized promotions group, which is one of the offshoots from the very successful classof2k7.

Right now, there are a lot of hurt feelings and wariness going on.

Now, completely separate from that, although admittedly influenced by this, I've come up with what might be considered either a really smart idea or one of the nuttiest things I've ever done.

What would y'all think about an LJ community with the theme of "What I've Learned?" I'd need my pubbed friends to step up here and say they could join up, because God knows, I don't know a fraction of what's out there, but I suppose it's the teacher in me who wants to continue to help up and coming authors. Basically, it could be an open forum for debut and aspiring authors to ask questions about anything in the process from promotions to dealing with insane copy editors to even providing a shoulder to cry on when you get a rejection or poor review as well as a place to get the cheers.

But again, it needs the pubbed folks to make this work, because if there's anything I've learned—I've still got a lot to learn.

BTW, it goes without saying y'all should feel free to pass this on to anyone you think might be interested.

Poll #1136784
Open to: All, results viewable to: All

Group- Yea or Nay

ETA: Based on early response, I went ahead and set up the community. Keep weighing in and definitely, share the word, please!!

shareabrain

So, in the interests of procrastinating, I was over reading Carrie Lofty's blog. And she mentioned that she had a RomanceWiki page. (Her page looks lovely.)

Being a curious sort, I searched for my name.

Yeah, I'm there. There's an author page. A page for Adiós. A page for last year's RITA finalists and winners.

Then there was this one.

It's the first time I've ever seen a comprehensive list, in one place, of all the winners in my category.

I... I... I'm kind of speechless, actually.

Okay, honestly? More lightheaded and sort of queasy. I mean, do you see who all is on that list? Seriously, talk about a surreal experience, seeing a list like that with my name on it.

Selah says the Hub should print it out, laminate it, and wrap it around Bertha to use in chasing me around the house when the self-doubt bunnies get to me.

That's my CP—full of the milk of human kindness.

Oh, that pesky, bothersome narrative with all that detail and insufferable description.

That was the gist of a blog I read today. And you know what? I dig that not everyone is into King or Gabaldon-levels of description but I was absolutely stunned at how many of the respondents in the blog were complaining about having to deal with even the most cursory description within the context of narrative. That they took it as some affront to their intelligence. "Why, I can figure out what a living room looks like! I don't need to know that the sofa is below the double windows! I don't need to know the location of every knick-knack. I'm not stoopit!"

Luckily, there were some who had more patience than I ever could wish for, who very gently and with great tact answered that it had nothing to do with the perceived level of intelligence of the reader, but perhaps, setting the scene was important to the development of the plot. And that furthermore, there was a vast difference between seamless description and infodump.

But noooo, that's not good enough. Description, any kind of description, gets in the way of dialogue. And action!

*headdesk*

All I can do is tell myself that these readers—in all likelihood—are not my readers.

After all, without pertinent detail within the narrative, the context is completely lost with something like this.

***
( What I've been driving myself crazy with )

My lovely agent has been having her clients write guest blogs for her and guess who's up today? Yeah, I'm so lame I didn't realize it until this afternoon.

At any rate, it's all about stepping out of one's comfort zone, in this case, writing-wise. If'n you're interested, it can be found at Caren Johnson Literary Agency.

Here's your shot. My lovely and obviously insane agent, Caren Johnson is giving away a critique. Details are on her blog (the aforementioned link), but I'll repeat the pertinent stuff here:

Since the agency (and the blog) is a year old now, I figured I’d do something special and give away a critique. It doesn’t matter if you don’t write in a subject I represent; I’ll still give you my thoughts on your work. For fiction I can read up to thirty pages (or three chapters) and a synopsis. For non-fiction, I’ll read an entire proposal and one sample chapter. To enter to win, send an email to cjohnson@johnsonlitagency.com. In your subject line please put critique giveaway so I can easily spot who is entering vs. who is querying me. On January 31st I’ll pick a name randomly and email the winner. Good luck to everyone.

So there you have it—follow the directions and send in your name and you might win the chance to have your work read.