Home Archive for June, 2009

I love books. Every writer loves books. We covet them, horde them, pile them in corners when the bookshelves are full. My husband threatens all manner of dire consequences when I bring home more books. His blusters do have a point: we live on a boat. Unlike other horders who live on land, my love of books could eventually sink us. So I pause as I lovingly finger the spine of yet another passageway to adventure. I don’t buy that book, even though I want to read it. Instead, I go to the library.

I love libraries. There is no place in the entire world—a seat next to Colin Firth at a dinner party included—that can make me happier. I love the smell, the hush, the way you can get lost for hours and find treasures buried so deep you feel like you are the first one to discover them. Then you find a train ticket stub, or a scrap of a grocery list or a smudged fingerprint that tells you someone else has found this treasure before. I think it’s completely appropriate that libraries are quiet. For me, they have a cathedral-like quality; they are hallowed, sacred temples to books.

My cousin works in a library. When she and her associates read my post about how boring I think my life is, she says they all laughed. But what they don’t realize is that I think they have exciting lives. All day long, they get to work with books—ones that are already written, edited, revised, printed and waiting to be read. I don’t know how they get any work done. I would constantly scold patrons: “Go away. Can’t you see I’m reading?” Surrounded by new books every day, old books that I loved when I was four, fourteen or forty, I would be a hopeless librarian. But I’d be a happy one.

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I just started blogging on a new site last month. The blog is devoted to Harlequin American Romance with all the authors for this line taking turns posting their thoughts on books, stories and the writing life. Every day brings something new: awards and upcoming releases one day, cleaning tips and recipes another. Check out Trish Milburn’s recipe. It made my mouth water! You can find links to all the author’s websites, too, plus easy access to purchasing books from Harlequin.

I post on the 27th of each month. Last month our topic was heroes. This month we’re exploring setting as a character in the novel. The diverse perspectives spark new ideas for me. Check out your favorite authors and find some new ones, too. I hope you’ll be back, again and again.

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Living on a sailboat, I am keenly attuned to the weather. Unlike land-dwellers, my roof is mere inches above my head with four hatches that open to the sky. I hear every drop of rain, every tap of hail and even snow makes a soft hiss as it hits the decks. Wind is perhaps the most intrusive of all the elements. The rigging taps and hums in light winds. All manner of vibrations and rattles shake the boat in the higher gusts. In storm-force winds, the rigging howls like there’s a banshee imprisoned in the crow’s nest, wailing to be set free. Okay, I don’t have a crow’s nest, but the banshee’s out there, screaming at me. It is an unnerving sound and one I don’t—thank goodness—hear too often.

So, weather is my constant companion, if not my friend. The past two days in the Chesapeake have been full of rain, the dreariest of weather anywhere, but especially on a boat. We’re anchored in Rock Creek, surrounded by houses on the shore, most with docks and boats out front. The scene is lovely, but I can’t sit outside in the cockpit and watch the birds swoop and soar through the trees that press the water’s edge. I can’t listen to the frogs croak and the fish splash since all our hatches have to be closed. It’s damp, chilly and all I want to do is torture my characters with plot twists that will end in heartbreak and tears. There’s not even any wind, just the steady drizzle. I lament the lack of wind because, if there’s wind, at least there’s the fantasy of sailing away from the gloom.

Feeling very put upon, I turn to the internet for escape. I log onto Facebook and check out what my friends are doing on this miserable day. Oddly enough, they’re all just as depressed by the weather as I am. Even though they are in houses and offices, in cars, trains and planes, we all have the same response. And we all try to cheer each other up by sending e-gifts and e-flowers, messages fun and funny. The weather is still inches above my head, but I realize everyone else feels the same as I do. That makes the gray day brighten, just a bit. A spark of enthusiasm hits and I pull up my latest work-in-progress. Maybe my hero doesn’t have to fall out of love with the heroine. Maybe she will reach out a hand when he needs it the most, offering love and support. Maybe I’ll get through this day. The forecast calls for sun tomorrow and a nice breeze from the south. Perfect for sailing up the Patapsco. I can endure and hope.

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