I'm editing Marry-Go-Round  lemme tell ya, it's not pretty. The more I work, the worse this book gets. I know other authors go through this, and many say, "Oh, you just think it's bad because you're too close to the project."

Well, it is bad. Although I may be a little close to it as well. I think I just passed my main character on the way to the bathroom. I'm living with this story.

Well, back to the ugliness of editing. If you hear gunfire, I put the laptop out of its misery.

I finally have a title for my Generations novella. I'm calling it, The Tomato Made Me Do It. AND I have a blurb. Just don't ask me too many questions I'm just on chapter 6.

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Richard Beaumont, roving reporter, was having a tedious year. Until he covered the unholy tomato, met his sister's first grade teacher and learned the county fair really could be magic.

Samantha Banks, the new teacher in town had been taught to be a nice girl. So how did she wind up unwed and in bed with a journalist? She could only say, the tomato made her do it.

As I've mentioned on the Moonlit Romance Blog, I'm currently a redhead. However, I was born blond. When I first dyed my hair this fabulous auburn, I noticed that the crown turned a bright strawberry. My reaction was understandably, " What the _ _ _ _?!" Then I went to a professional, and learned that all that bright, brassy color was just my silver hair. My golden blond was hiding all this silver. I've learned how to make the color a uniform medium auburn. 

Now as it grows out, I get silver white hair mixed in with my new beloved red. My options are continue to dye it, as I have been for over half a year, or strip the color and see what mother nature has done to me over the course of 36 years. Um...I'm going for the bottle.

I'm on Chapter Four of my new novella. I don't really have a title for the story, but I think the book is going to be Generations: A Family Tree With a Funny Bone.

I was on a great roll last week and then took the weekend off. I'm back up to speed now. I should have the minimum word count of 10,000 words in a couple of weeks. I just don't know if it will be finished at that point. I can use up to 15,000 words. I may just go for the top.

I was minding my own business this afternoon when Laura Hamby approached me to do a novella for an anthology. At this time, we are in the beginning stages of the project, but I'll give you a little info. There will be three related stories. I'm writing the first one, which takes place in the 1950's. Laura will do one in the '70's, and Meg Allison has agreed to do one set in the here and now.

So, what does this have to do with that old fairy tale? I can't sleep! I've already written the Prologue and two chapters. The pea is this novella. So, if you want to do me a favor, go razz Laura on her blog. I BLAME her for my lack of sleep.

Last week I had a conversation about strange personal quirks. One of mine is a lotion addiction. No, not fetish, ADDICTION. Keep your mind out of the dumpster.

It got me thinking about how we all have our little routines and in the case of those with OCD, rituals. I spent the weekend observing myself, and looking at my vast lotion collection. Funny, I never realized I have six different lotions in my purse alone. All in all, I have about 20 bottles, tubes and jars of moisturizers and creams. Don't forget "beauty fluid."

At any rate, I find myself lotioning my hands about every hour and a half. After a bath, I use one of my favorites all over my body. Before bed also calls for head to toe moisture. I have a new nighttime pick as of this weekend too. It's baby lotion with chamomile and lavender to calm fussy babies at bedtime. I figured since I was examining this obsession, I might as well add to it. By the way, I slept like an infant last night.

I'm not a prude. I love sex. I adore men. I can't wait to read a really good romance with just the right sprinkling of passion and fantasy. However, when it comes to writing it, sometimes I freeze. I know in my mind what's going to happen next, but taking what is potentially crude and painting it as the stuff of dreams is a challenge.

To begin with, I simply cannot stand corny euphemisms. All the classic purple prose could make anyone’s panties cold. Rosy peaks, throbbing manhood, and referring to her “core” sucks the delight right out of a sex scene. So, how do I describe all these private parts?

I DON’T! I gloss over and dodge, and give enough of a hint of what is about to come before I close the door. Luckily, this is what my publisher wants. Moonlit Romance draws the line at “soft R.” This means the sex act can be a part of the story, but not fully described. So far, the Moonlit books I’ve read have been really good, and sexy, without being too explicit.

If you’d like an example of one of these, try It’s All Greek to Me by Laura Hamby. You can find it on the Moonlit Romance website. Then again, you can also pick up my November release, The Marry-Go-Round.

I guess this is my introductory post. As my profile can tell you, I'm a wirter. And my heading can tell you I write romantic comedy, so hey, you know that much about me already.

I'll be updating here at least once a week. My topics will be whatever is percolating in my brain, probably not profound or even insightful posts, but they will be relevant to my life. Afterall, it's my journal.

Stay tuned for my first head scratching moment in the next few days.