Tuesday, December 27, 2005

New Year's Resolutions?

I was never much one for resolutions when I was younger. I would look all around at all the people who said, "On January 1st I am going on a diet to lose 20 pounds," and I would see all those people "cheating" by sundown. Then, one year, on a lark, I wrote down 100 things I wanted to do in the new millennium. I don't know why, I just did. They ranged from the mundane (take up yoga again) to the insane (have another baby--um, that would make FOUR) to the seemingly impossible (sell my first novel).
Well . . . call it luck, fate, direction . . . by the end of that year, I had accomplished something like 22 things on the list. And my agent racked up, eventually, seventeen sales or something like that. Movie studios were routinely calling for first-looks at books. Things that seemed ludicrously extraordinary were becoming ordinary.
Thus began my process of writing down specific goals and treating January 1, as well as my birthday, as a contemplative time to figure out where I am and where I want to be. As a Buddhist, where I am is usually just fine. I'm always telling my kids to just be in the moment anyway. But I still dream and want to see places and I no longer think of any dream as out of reach.

Thursday, December 22, 2005

I Still Believe in Santa

OK . . . I do.
Because no matter how tired, stressed, ribbon- and wrapping-challenged I am . . . there are those moments of pure joy in the season. And that's Santa.
It's the questions the kids ask. "Have you ever met the REAL Santa, not just the one at the mall?"
"Do you think it would be okay if I baked him brownies instead of cookies? Don't you think he's bored of cookies?"
It's that my youngest daughter wrapped a present FOR Santa and has left it under the tree. She also, ever the artist, hand-made signs, which she taped to the walls next to the tree, saying, "Welcome Santa," and "We love you!"
So of course he's real. It's the season of goodwill (except toward the MTA in NYC in the season of the strike--my poor commuter pals!). Of corny movies and corny songs. And lights and all the rest of it.
So Merry Christmas, happy holidays . . . peace to all.

Monday, December 12, 2005

'Tis The Season

. . . to lose my mind.
December. Christmas cards not done. Presents . . . not nearly done. Wrapping? You have got to be friggin' kidding me.
And if it's December, I must have a deadline from hell.
Give the lady a prize . . . YES!
I am trying to wrap up a book, do a proposal, and I promised my kids I would work on the fantasy book I am writing for them. So somehow I have to fit all that in with the rest of my life and Christmas, and it ain't looking pretty.
However, I do remember one word a lot. BREATHE.
And beyond that, I look for the moments. Those freeze-frame moments of joy in the season, like last night driving aimlessly and looking at lights with a mom-van full of squealing kids. Or watching It's a Wonderful Life with my seven-year-old for her FIRST time and seeing it through her eyes, and still welling up in the end even though I've seen Clarence get his wings a hundred times before.
So . . . breathe . . . and enjoy.
Merry Christmas to all.

Friday, December 09, 2005

GUEST BLOGGER: THE EVOLUTION OF CRYSTAL

Hello to you all, and a big thank you to Erica for giving me the chance to guest blog on her site!

As you already know, Erica and I have been teamed up for a vampire book collection called Twice Bitten, which features reissues of our first Bombshells. You’re no doubt familiar with Erica’s Urban Legend, but maybe you haven’t read my contribution, The Huntress. While her book features a crime-fighting city vampire, my heroine is the flipside in her own search for justice: Camille Howard is a vamp hunter who has her own very personal reasons for tracking a tribe of female creatures into the dark wilds of Transylvania. See, her boyfriend was captured by this feral group, and she’ll do anything to get him back. But, along the way, Camille has to contend with a rival hunter, a man who wants to destroy just about anything that has to do with fangs—and that includes her captive boyfriend.

This story was a real departure for me, since I had concentrated mainly on women’s fiction/romance (Special Edition and Blaze) before writing The Huntress. But this was one of those ideas that just grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. When I finished, I knew I’d reached a turning point in my career. In fact, I immediately thought of another vampire story idea—one that was bigger than just a single book—and ended up selling the trilogy to Berkley. It’s about a stuntwoman on the skids whose father goes missing in L.A. Much to her shock, she finds that he was working with a paranormal investigation agency, so she teams up with them in order to find him, but what they discover along the way is a secretive, erotically charged vampire world. I’m waiting on a slot date, but the first book has been written and accepted. The trilogy is called “Vampire Underground,” and my editor (who also works with Laurell K. Hamilton) calls it a “mystery-noir vampire fantasy.”

So how did a girl who was first published in warmhearted family dramas (Special Edition) end up here? It’s not really a surprise. When I was a kid, I used to watch that Leonard Nemoy series In Search Of… (Remember? How fun was it?!?) and I would thrill to those stories of ghosts, monsters, and mysteries. But a certain episode left an indelible impression on me: it was about vampires. One of the clearest memories I have of childhood is watching a clip from the show: the shadow of a bald creature inching over a wall, its form warped and growing with every step it took up the stairs. Its fingers looked like gnarled branches that scratch against a window in the middle of the night, its nails like blades. And then…its face.

Oh, my God, its face.

The clip was from the silent version of Nosferatu, and from that moment on, I started sleeping with the covers around my neck.

My writing began to reflect my new awareness of what could creep out of the dark to attack me. I think I was about seven or eight when I created a tale about a weird “Lottery”-esque nature festival where the villagers did something for their communal feast that I won’t even mention here. It upset my dad when he read it, but that didn’t stop me. In the following years, I wrote short stories about ghosts and vamps. At times, my poetry inspired my friends give me long, considering looks. I wrote the requisite “Who was Jack the Ripper?” story. At nineteen, I embarked on a historical romance that had elements of voodoo (and it will never, ever see the light of day—I promise you that.). All in all, I suppose a perfect metaphor for my personality is reflected in a Halloween costume I wore one year: a bride with a face-covering veil. But, underneath, I sported the pale make-up of a vampire, fangs and all. At a party, I remember a girl walking up to me and saying, “Oh, how prett--” Then she caught a glimpse of what was beneath the veil. When she freaked out, I felt like my mission for the night had been completed.

So, it’s no surprise that a dark story like The Huntress came to me. The minute I saw that Bombshell was looking for a vampire hunter book, images blasted into my mind. It was the word “hunter” that did it: I saw dark castles and woods, sharp archaic weapons and blood. I knew it would have to take place in “the old country” and that my female protagonist would have to be pitted against other females at first. And I knew there’d have to be a touch of Buffy, Van Helsing, and Bruce Wayne in Camille Howard.

And I knew I really liked what I was writing….

I hope you’ll visit my site (www.crystal-green.com) to double your chances of winning the contest Erica and I are hosting. That “wild rose” necklace is almost worth dying for, IMHO. Good luck, and thanks for letting me hang out.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Old Friends

As I finish the second book in my Billie Quinn criminalist series, I have to say, it has been great fun visiting old friends.
Usually, when you write a book, you start from scratch. Down to your main character's name, job, hair color, eye color, and favorite cocktail, it's all new. Then as you populate the book with secondary characters, they're all new, too.
When I wrote Trace of Innocence, which comes out next month, I originally pitched it as a two-book series. Then my publisher asked me to do three. I had never even done a series before, so this was, in a sense, new to me.
When I started the second book, it was like walking into a party that was in full swing and knowing everyone there. Everybody from book 1 returns, and if I loved them in the first, I love them even more, now. I already knew all their eccentricities--and they have boatloads of them. And I knew their back stories. And it was like picking up where I left off.
As soon as I turn this one in, it will be time to start the next one. I get to see my old friends yet again, from Lewis with his brain collection stored in formaldehyde, to Mikey, my heroine's brother, who's always up to something illegal.
As an author, it's nice to revisit your characters once in a while to see what they're up to. I have so many times heard from fans who wanted to know what happened when a book ended. In particular, a lot of readers wanted to know what happened to Tom in The Roofer once the book was over. But to me, Tom was in suspended animation, exactly where I left him when the book concluded. This was the first time I resurrected characters, and it was totally enjoyable.