The cats of Galway and other tales

Remember The Cat?

Maybe not. But when we were looking for a place to stay in Galway, I eventually narrowed it down to two places -- one advertising a cat and one not.

The cat won.


And when we got there, it turns out he wasn't real.

Well, I suppose the cat is real, but he doesn't live there. He has a tapestry counterpart who is enormous. And the non-tapestry cat's photos are there. But HE is NOT.

I was disappointed. I realize that realistically "boutique hotels" cannot provide cats for all their guests. I know a B&B in Minnesota that does, but that's not the same thing. AND it's a B&B. And it is Minnesota. And Ballyvolane had Archie, of course, which made up for it.

Still . . . it was a sad moment of truth -- rather like discovering there is no Santa Claus. Sigh.

But even though the lack-of-cat was a disappointment, the choice of hotel was not. It was a lovely place. Very posh. AND it wasn't right above the streets where all Friday and Saturday night the revelers with their Drinks stood around and made a lot of noise.

The other hotel, it turns out, was. You'll have to imagine them here because I took these photos on Sunday morning when it was dead quiet.

Still, it didn't take me long (about a single split second, if that) to decide that we had gone to the right place -- and while I'm sure the other hotel was fine, this lack-of-cat one was quieter.

The cat, wherever he was, would have approved.

We arrived there on Friday. Saturday morning we left Kate and her husband to their own devices and we took a day trip to the burren and the cliffs of Moher. When I told Kate we wanted to go, she visibly shuddered and said, "You're not getting me anywhere near that again! Even lying flat on the ground I still thought I was going to fall off."

Not being one with a great love of heights, I wondered what I was getting into. But "progress" has spend something like 31 million Euros to gussy up the approach to the cliffs of Moher. Kate wouldn't have to worry now. It's all very civilized. They apparently wanted to charge admission, but were prohibited by law. Hooray, law, is all I can say.

The cliffs themselves are spectacular -- like looking at the Grand Canyon. I'd seen so many photos, it was hard to think I wasn't just looking at another one -- in 3D. But the sound of the waves breaking against them was impressive. And the fact that we got a fabulous, reasonably warm, very sunny day was definitely God's gift to us. The coach driver said many times he brings groups of people up who can't see a thing for the rain and fog.

We marveled at the cliffs, then also at the burren, the rocky limestone outcroppings that make the landscape in this area of County Clare almost lunar in their inhospitality. I can't imagine anyone thinking they could plant anything here and have it grow. Well, obviously some things do -- there is even a species of orchid that grows amid the rock. But I wouldn't want to have to make a living there, I can tell you that.

We got to visit a limestone cave that descends beneath the burren. And for all that the landscape above didn't even remotely resemble where we live, we are blessed with an abundance of limestone caves along the Mississippi River. Ours are every bit as amazing -- or even more so -- than the one we visited there. It was interesting to see how similar the subterranean landscape was since on "ground level" things were totally different.

We also got to take some pictures of Clarin Bridge, County Galway for a friend whose family emigrated from there to England and a generation later to New York. Two years ago I took pictures of the village of Bole in Nottinghamshire for her and sent them to her. Now I'm adding photos of Clarin Bridge. It was one of those places without much topsoil and a lot of rock. They must have thought Nottinghamshire was the breadbasket of the world after that!

I'm happy to report that FINALLY Flynn seems to be cooperating.

At least he didn't stalk off and refuse to do anything today. He's about to dismantle a coffee shop in his impatience. But that's progress. Michelle Styles says I'm having trouble because James Purefoy is my Flynn inspiration and he's difficult to get a handle on. Good idea. Blame it on James.

We're expecting another blizzard. Maybe while it's raging outside I can get Flynn moving two days in a row. Maybe he'll wreak mayhem in the coffee shop.

It wasn't in the synopsis. But then the best things rarely are.

Brief Travel Respite

I'll get back to Ireland tomorrow.

Today I want some advice. When we were discussing "world-building" on eharlequin the week before I left for the Emerald Isle, I explained my rather rudimentary method of keeping track of who was where and doing what in my Code of the West series.

There were 16 books by the time I wrote A Cowboy's Christmas Miracle, and in fact, besides the connections between one and another of those, they also connected sporadically to my Quicksilver books (Charlie Seeks Elk, hero of A Cowboy's Promise was the sixteen year old troublemaker in Gifts of the Spirit, the last Quicksilver book I did for Harlequin American). And Mariah Kelly, heroine of Rhys's Redemption, a Harlequin Presents, interviewed cowboy turned actor Sloan Gallagher, who later went on to become the hero of The Great Montana Cowboy Auction.

Suffice to say, I had to do something to make sure I didn't send Charlie to Afghanistan when he should have been on the streets of L.A. and I didn't send Taggart Jones's daughter Becky to high school when she was ten.

After five books in the series, no longer able to keep it all in my head, I consulted with my editor who tried to help, and several other people who were -- and still are -- far wiser than I when it comes to computer stuff. I knew I needed to create a database or a spreadsheet or whatever I might need to be able to pull all these people out in whatever form I needed them in. But no one could suggest how to do it.

So I ended up with a simple timeline that began at year ZERO, which was when Cowboys Don't Cry began, and I counted back 34 years, to the year its hero, Robert Tanner, was born, and I wrote -34: Robert Tanner born in Colorado. Then I wrote -30: Maggie MacLeod born. . . And then I began adding in Tanner's brothers and any events that happened while they were growing up and when he got married and all the various "events" in the plot.

I wrote everything that happened in that book in hot pink. Then I put the events from Luke and Jill's book, Cowboys Don't Quit, in using deep gold. Noah and Tess's book was dark purple. Taggart's was navy blue. Jed's was forest green.

As the books moved forward I added +1, +2, +3, until by Deke's book (emerald green. I was running out of color variations after 16 of them) I was up to +12. It worked, but it was getting unwieldy. And the reason I'm bringing it up is two-fold 1) I'm writing Flynn and Sara now, which is a Code of the West book in a different cover (Harlequin Presents) and so I need to be sure everything meshes, and 2) I've recently discovered some software that I think might be what I was originally looking for.

The software is called Tinderbox, from Eastgate, developed by Mark Bernstein. And from what I can see of the way it works, it could do everything I wanted my timeline to do and more. It is a Mac program. I do Windows (literally and figuratively). A Windows version is in the works. I guess I can wait.

But in the meantime, I'm wondering if anyone has any good ideas for other software to keep these folks sorted. (Or good ideas for buying a Mac cheap)

The book will go on even without it. But it would be nice to have the timeline and event sheet in a less cumbersome form. Right now it is beginning to remind me of the Dead Sea Scrolls.

I am curious if anyone has discovered any equally promising software for such projects. Jenny Crusie mentioned Scrivener on her blog recently -- also (sigh) a Mac program. Anyone else?

Anyone?

Well, let me know. I need to get back to work. Wondering why I'm starting this book over. Well, no. Actually not wondering. Knowing. I've started from the wrong point of view. Again. And the wrong place. Again.

After this many books you'd think I'd realize, wouldn't you? Maybe it isn't software I need. Maybe it's a new brain.

A Tour With Wriggle

Wriggle is a wonderful hostess.

She had other duties around the house, I'm sure, but she took her responsibility for showing us around very seriously indeed. And she didn't want us to miss a thing.


Sadly, because of time constraints and enough rain to turn the normal trickle into something rather broader, faster and deeper (without wellies), we didn't visit the donkeys. But not because Wriggle didn't try.

She thought we were pretty wimpish not to just plunge in and walk straight across the stream. She did it -- half a dozen times at least. In fact she stood in the middle of it and stared at us with disgust.

But we had to be in Dublin that afternoon to turn in the car, so we decided to save the donkeys for next time.

That way, we promised ourselves, there would be a next time. We certainly hope there will be one.

After all Trish Morey has indicated she'd like to join the Expeditionary Force next time we invade. You're very welcome, Trish! Maybe you can bottle a bit of the rain and take it home with you. They've plenty.

As pictures are worth at least a thousand words apiece (Hmmm. . . I wonder if my editor would let me substitute about 20 or so for the words I haven't written yet?), I'll let them speak todau while I go off to deal with Flynn and Sara and -- I hope -- get them moving on their way again. Maybe they'll catch a glimpse of these and feel inspired.


Me, sitting in the front parlour waiting for Wriggle to begin our tour.







First she showed us the piano and Archie's favorite sofa . . .or is it a chesterfield? Or . . .

Clearly antique furniture pieces are not my forte.




The front parlor fireplace.








Archie who came in and took over his favorite spot in the front parlour did NOT want to be disturbed. So we left him in peace and moved on.







We peeked into the dining room.






Then pushed open the door . . .





Next we went upstairs to our room overlooking the front drive and lake. We'd show you Kate's but maybe she'd prefer to do that. If not, I'll do it later.




A glimpse out the window made Wriggle decide we'd seen enough inside. We needed to go out and experience her domain first hand -- or paw.





First we went around the farm buildings.






















John Deere has joined the Expeditionary Force! I think Liam will recognize that little tractor at once.









Wriggle stopped briefly to give a pop quiz on house and garden history to Kate Walker's husband aka The Babe Magnet. She also got a piece of bread. Clever Wriggle.







After the farm buildings, she showed us inside the fifteen-foot high walled garden.








A look at the wall from between two hedges. When they're in bloom maybe I can figure out what they are. I asked Wriggle. She didn't know.






She showed us the dovecote. But frankly she didn't think they were very impressive. She gets free run of the place. They have to stay under their net.





There were LOTS more things she would have showed us . . . but unfortunately our time had run out.

We left her surveying her domain, waiting for more guests to show around its delights. Lucky Wriggle. I thought about her a lot today while I was out shoveling 10 inches of snow!

Flynn's Castle . . .ah, Research!

Got back from Ireland Thursday night. It was wonderful -- and I would have been here earlier but I got food poisoning on the drive back home from the airport! Argh.

I will spare you details of that, but just say that I'm now vertical for the first time since Thursday evening.

We had a wonderful trip with lots of high points -- but for me the "highest" point was my experience with Flynn's drafty castle.

It was, of course, the reason I went. I needed some first hand experience with old manor houses of Ireland, a sense of what it would have been like to grow up there -- and a sense of how it would have felt to Sara to suddenly be thrust into that world.

I got it at a wonderful country house called Ballyvolane.

You can read all about the real Ballyvolane on their own website. I won't reproduce it here. But I wil say that it was a marvelous venue for a "house party" which I had with Kate Walker and her husband, another couple from Dublin and my friend Nancy who came along as gadget-master, voice-over artist, key-misplacer and potential cat-slayer (no, not really, it just looked that way).

The day we arrived at Ballyvolane -- after a drive from Galway -- we were just in time for afternoon tea. I must get the recipe for the lemon cake which was superb. We enjoyed sitting by the fire in the drawing room and getting to know Noodle, a terrier with opinions, Wriggle, a spaniel chocolate lab mix who was a wonderful hostess and absolutely determined to share every inch of her domain with us, and Archie, the largest cat in Christendom -- or at least Ireland, here in Kate's arms. Noodle, Wriggle and Archie alone would have made our stay memorable.

But then we had dinner. And what a wonderful dinner it was. I'll dig up my menu and post in sometime soon. I still haven't dealt with the contents of my suitcase. Suffice it say it was a grand meal, after which we spent more time lazing about the drawing room before tottering up to our beds.

The next day we awoke to the "soft day" I wrote about earlier -- the one where the rain was bucketing down and the winds were howling. I was sitting in the drawing room by the fire typing that. It was a wonderful blustery day. We learned first hand about drafts -- and how to avoid them. I can see that Flynn will have his hands full making his castle airtight. If he can!

We spent most of that day indoors. But Nancy the intrepid braved the gale early and came back to report on wonderful paths through the woods and a magnificent walled garden. So while it was still windy but with a break in the rain, I went out and wandered around, too. Early spring flowers were already in bloom -- some daffodils, with more waiting in the wings, crocuses, snowdrops. The rhododendrons were almost ready to burst forth. In another few weeks Ballyvolane will be awash in spring colors. It will be -- if possible -- even more beautiful than it was when we were there a few days ago.

We dined out that night and came back to a clear night sky with the most incredible profusion of stars imaginable. I haven't seen that many since the moonless night I was driving from Wichita to Dodge City and the milky way was spread before me in such a dazzling display of starlight that I didn't expect to ever see anything come close. Last week at Ballyvolane, it came close.

And then there were the trees. I was looking for trees because Flynn and Liam are going to build a treehouse (nothing like giving away the book, right?). But I knew I had to have a place they could do that. And Ballyvolane came through. It has treehouse potential in spades. Perfect places for father and son to do a bit of bonding.

And I didn't even have to imagine it as a home for little boys. It has its own in residence right now. And their own children's room -- not to mention the vast gardens complete with soccer goal -- provided plenty of inspiration for how Liam will cope.


I couldn't have asked for a better castle for Flynn. It was a great success.

The book is here in my head. Now, as Kate says, all I need are the words!

A Soft Day

It is, as they say here in Ireland, a "soft day."

That means it's raining.

It is actually pouring. The rain is coming down in buckets. It's enough to make you reconsider the sign in Abby Green's day job office that says there is NOT a never-ending supply of water, so please conserve. There is -- pretty much -- a never-ending supply here.

But that's just today. Every other day since we've been here it's been beautiful. Amazing, really. And since we left home in a blizzard, we are impressed. It's a funny thing about weather. It's entirely subjective. While we were sitting in the airport contemplating the swirling snow that made entire buildings disappear, we said things like, "I think it's letting up. No problem. We should be able to get out easily."

But at the same time we were taking photos and mini-movies of it which, when we show them to people now, they gasp in horror and say, "You left in THAT?"

Well, we wanted to get here. And we figured the pilot did, too. And we did. And he did. And we've had a wonderful trip so far. And if you notice Sara dealing with a blizzard when she takes off for Ireland, you'll know that she is speaking from experience -- my experience.

I found a few copies of The Santorini Bride in Galway. That was fun. Of course it might have been more fun if they'd been sold out. But then I might simply have worried that they had never appeared at all. So it was probably better this way.

Been taking lots of pictures. Have met two great dogs -- Wriggle and Noodle -- and a tuxedoed cat called Archie. Archie is sawing wood rather loudly in the next chair even as I type this. I'll post his picture later, when I can actually upload them.

Have enjoyed the whole trip. Fantastic time with Abby Green in Dublin. Super couple of days in Galway. Now we're deep into the drafty Irish castle part of the trip. This isn't a castle. It's better. It's a real country house, built in 1724. Exactly the sort of place that Flynn would have loved as a child. But later . . . well, later he had to think things out.

Kate has been charming Archie. He has taken a great liking to her pashmina with its scent of Sid -- and wrapped himself up in it. I think he wishes Sid had come along. They could have gone salmon fishing together.

Back to work . . . (Well, somebody's got to do it).

Happy Blogday!

It's the year anniversary of this blog. I can't believe it's been a year.

Basically what that means is that at this time last year I had just finished Theo and Martha and had sent them off to my editor. And now they're out and about leading their own lives, going on a honeymoon, having a kid. Wow.

A lot has happened this year. I've had comments and correspondence from people in far-flung corners of the earth. I met a real Theo Savas. I've had comments from a rodeo supply guy about bull-riding school. I've had correspondence from CJ at ClustrMaps and Roberto at Neoworx. Just the other day I sent a query to a company about their software after reading about it on a blog. The next morning I had an email from the software's developer. I'm smiling.

This year on our first blogday I'm off to the airport to go to Dublin. We weren't supposed to leave until tomorrow, but I think we're going today because there seems to be a momentary lull in the snow fall. It's supposed to pick up again in a few hours and continue into tomorrow. So today looks like the better bet. I hope.

Domenico has announced his winner in the Grooms' Contest -- she is Mona Hassan of Egypt. Congratulations, Mona. I have your books packed and will be sending them off this afternoon as I leave town. I hope you enjoy them. Max must be having too good a time on his honeymoon to bother to announce his winner on Liz's blog. But she told me he'd sent her an email, so her winner will be getting books as well. But the announcement will have to come from Liz or Max on her blog.

I will hope to get a chance to post sometime while I'm gone. Maybe internet cafes will abound in Dublin, Galway and points south. We shall see. I'm not taking the computer, only my DANA, which is great for notetaking and doesn't cause near the hassle getting through airports. It doesn't "boot up" either -- it just turns on and off. So I'll be taking lots of notes, but it isn't configured to go online, so I'll have to be at a computer for that.

When I get back I want to write a "thank you" post to the two people who got me into writing romance in the first place. One is a childhood friend. The other is the Harlequin author whose book became my first "keeper."

In the meantime, check back and see if I've found an internet cafe. Read lots of books. Track down Theo and Martha (aka The Santorini Bride) and put them at eye level! Ditto Domenico and Alice. Buy a copy of Max and Louise -- they are now on the bookshelves as well. I saw them last night.

See you soon!

The Hansel and Gretel Approach To Web Wandering

Sometimes when I'm on the internet I feel like Hansel and Gretel, wandering through the forest with a back button instead of a loaf of bread to leave a trail. I start out in the known and pretty soon I've wandered off my beaten path and I am in a part of the universe I have never seen before.

It's almost always mind-boggling.

Usually I go with a purpose. When I was looking for Irish castles I spent part of several days where I jumped around Ireland from blog to blog, from website to website, getting more and more bits and pieces of information about castles and country homes, about salmon fishing, about the Irish peerage, about ancient neolithic burial sites, about Finn MacCool, about St Brendan, about holy wells and the state of Irish cinema.

When I was looking for pictures for my collage, I spent a lot of time on Flickr and other photo site looking for inspiration. But if I started with Irish castles and 6 year old boys, I ended up with policemen in Dublin, Doubtful Sound in New Zealand and ice floes in the Bering Strait. One thing led to another, you know.

A while back I had an email conversation with a friend in Scotland who was trying to learn about baseball while I was trying to make sense of cricket. That took me to Major League Baseball sites and minor league sites on which I discovered the son of an old friend had pitched for a AA ball team, which then took me to discovering his sister the artist, which took me to Seattle, which took me to another friend's website about quilting and then to her inspiratioin in China. About that time I remembered I was supposed to be looking up cricket as well as baseball.

So I started there, got to the West Indies, Australia, Pakistan and India in a matter of moments, and half an hour later, ended up renting the Bollywood film Lagaan. It wasn't quite as big a jump as you might think.

The other day I read Michelle Styles's blog, then clicked on one of the blogs she reads and got hooked by someone talking about creating blogs, which led me to another blog, which led me to an discussion of information retrieval and management, which is something I have to write an article about for a genealogy magazine in a couple of months. And I found some software I think might be very useful and also useful for my books. But I need to think more about it -- and I have been -- which means I haven't got much done on dear long-suffering Flynn and Sara.

But I did figure out how to connect their various bits of story that have been hanging around expecting me to do something with them. So it feels as if I've actually come out of the woods on the other side for a change and I won't have to try to follow the bread crumbs back through the forests.

Just as well, as I believe Gunnar, Micah and Mitch have already eaten them.

* * * *

I'm waiting for Kate and Liz to announce the winners to Dom's and Max's part of the Grooms' Contest. I expect they will do that tomorrow.

Theo sends congratulations to Jennifer Yates who won his part! So does Martha who says she is very happy that Theo is now out of the contest business and can finally concentrate on their honeymoon.

And the Winner Is . . .

Jennifer Yates!

Congratulations to Jenn who won Theo's BIGGER contest -- the Grooms' Contest! Way to go, girl!

And thank you to everyone who took the time to find the answers to Theo's and Dom's and Max's questions. You all worked hard and you all deserve a round of applause.

Jenn, your copy of my 3-in-1 The Cowboy's Code and a copy of Susan Stephens's book about Theo Savakis and Miranda Weston will be on their way to you Monday (I hope). You will also be getting copies of Kate's Alcolar trilogy and Liz's Bridegroom books. You will be able to read for weeks!!

Theo suggested we might tuck George into the package, too. But I think George has bolted back into the physics lab and locked the door behind him.

We really have to do something about him!

Anyway, congratulations again. Theo, Martha, Dom, Alice, Max, Louise, Kate, Liz and I are all very grateful to everyone who took part. We hope to do this again sometime.

Packing Light

The theory is that you should only need one suitcase to go anywhere.

I hope that's true. I've never found it to be so yet, but then I tend to end up going to RWA conferences or to RNA conferences or weddings or totally different climates from the one I'm living in -- which require not just changes of clothes but completely different sorts of clothes.

I'm giving Ireland the chance to prove it.

No conferences. One "no-you-can't-wear-your-jeans-here" dinner. A not-quite-castle which has given no indication that it requires one to 'dress for dinner.' So I'm traveling light.

That could be because it's so cold here right now that I'm going to be wearing five layers on my back and there will be very little left in my suitcase. Other than books. I'm bringing Abby books. And wool socks. I never go anywhere without wool socks, especially not in the winter. And a notebook and pen. And my camera. I never go anywhere without that these days, either. It's so small and easily transportable. And several little card whatsits to stick in it for the pictures.

It's all in one suitcase. And there's a tiny bit of room left over. When the books leave I will have space to bring things home (she said h0pefully). I can't imagine what I need in Ireland, though, besides inspiration. And I definitely need a lot of that.

I had hoped to have all the New York City part of Flynn and Sara's book done before I leave on Tuesday. I suspect that's not going to happen now. I at least hope I'll be into chapter two!

Theo stuck his head in a few minutes ago and wondered if I'd had any more Grooms' Contest entries. Actually yes, I've had two more. He says to remind you that you have until tomorrow night to enter. Not much time left. Last chance!

Gunnar is waiting eagerly to pick the winner. I know Sid will be picking the winner at Kate's. I'm not sure who does the honor at Liz's. She has grandcats and granddogs, too, I think. Maybe they do the choosing. Or maybe she has a resident selection committee.

I had hoped to have my new redesigned website up by Valentine's Day, but my webmistress said no. She says it needs time and fiddling and restructuring. So we're hoping maybe April 1st. But don't hold me to it.

Thank you everyone who sent suggestions. We've taken them into consideration. She's making changes and will send me some rough ideas when I get back. By then I hope I will be so deep in Flynn and Sara's book that I barely have time to notice (except to say, "Yes, how wonderful!").

The box of children's books has been sorted and parceled out -- one package to each kid with their respective favorites in it -- and one small box to remain here so I can read them to grandkids who come visit. I read The Gingerbread Man out loud tonight.

The last three pages are missing. It didn't matter. I can say them by heart even after all these years!

Opening a box of memories

This week's box from the attic was not intentionally a memory box. But it has turned out that way.

Most of the box is full of children's books. Like the ones I mentioned last week -- the ones with the teeth marks in them -- these books bring back so many memories that I called my daughter and we reminisced. We talked about the books and the laughter and the joy of reading them over and over and over. We can recite whole passages from memory even now. It's not just the memory -- it's the memory shared.

First there was the favorite Curious George (far before his 15 minutes of movie fame. And no, I don't consciously recall naming The World's Sexiest Physicist after a curious monkey. But now that you mention it . . .). The truth is, I remember reading Curious George myself when I was small. I can still remember thinking how cool it would be to grab a whole bunch of balloons and float up and up and up (this was obviously before I developed a sensible fear of heights when hanging by balloons). I read it to all my kids, of course. I think we can safely say that they all grew up curious about the world -- and went out into it determined to grab the balloons and see it for themselves.

Then there was Pierre, Maurice Sendak's wonderful "cautionary tale." We still quote Pierre's "I don't care!" refrain to each other -- and then the assorted bits about how the lion ate Pierre, and how his parents came to see him, but found the lion instead, and when his mother asked for Pierre, the lion said, "I don't care!" and Mother shrieked, "Pierre's in there!" And Father hit him with the folding chair. I certainly hope the people who police children's literature don't ever decide that Pierre is "too violent" for our little darlings. My kids LOVED it. As did I. As does every kid I've ever read it to.

And then I stumbled across Crictor. Tomi Ungerer's tale of the snake who came to live with the little old lady in her tiny French village always made us smile. Crictor was such a wonderfully helpful snake. And he could do so many things. Spell. Count. Tie knots. Get kites out of trees. Catch burglars. A snake with a can-do attitude. A hero, I'd say. Gotta like that.

We had a book version of I Know An Old Lady. It's better known as a song -- and of course we sang it. "I know an old lady who swallowed a fly . . . Perhaps she'll die!" My boys always sang it with such relish, little ghouls. And they LOVED the ending: I know an old lady who swallowed a HORSE! She's dead, of course."

There was the wonderful tale of Stone Soup, the charming Lyle, Lyle Crocodile, the winter-time favorite, Katy and the Big Snow.

There were the marvelous Frog and Toad books by Arnold Lobel -- autographed to each of the boys specially, with personal drawings of frog and toad. How did they get in the attic? They're in the bedroom on the dresser by the bed, now, just waiting for their "boys" to come and claim them.

There was Corduroy, and Owl at Home, and Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel. There was Make Way for Ducklings, Blueberries for Sal (a copy of which I recently bought for one of my daughters-in-law because it was her favorite children's book), and Lentil. We were very big on Robert McCloskey in our house!

And there was the wonderful, unforgettable Homer Price. Who could read Homer and ever forget the doughnut machine or the skunk called Aroma? I remember those stories from my own childhood reading. There was Ramona the Pest and Henry Huggins.

Tikki Tikki Tembo -- another "cautionary tale" about not giving your children great long names! I will remind my son of this come August when he and his wife will be naming theirs. I don't think I have to worry, though.

There were several Frances stories by Russell Hoban -- Bread and Jam for Frances, A Baby Sister for Frances, Bedtime for Frances. Wonderful books to read aloud. We can say them together like a Greek chorus even now. Many lines from the Frances books have made their way into our family lore. "Gloria liked to practice with a string bean when she could." "Frances knew what she liked and it was always good." "What is my job?" asked Frances. "Your job," said father, "is to go to sleep."

I sit here now surrounded by them, knowing I'm not going to throw any of them out (God forbid), knowing that as battered and torn and well-read and well-loved as they have been, they can be read more times, they can be loved by more children. And they will be.

I can hardly wait.

I hope Theo and Martha read lots of books to their little one. I expect they will.

Go Away, Theo

I don't believe it!

He's on his honeymoon, for goodness's sake! And he's dropping in here to check on things.

Theo, I never knew you were such a control freak.

Go enjoy your wife. Your time to have her all to yourself is growing short. There's a baby on the way, don't forget. In the not too distant future as a matter of fact. So you better make the most of this.

And I do not have it in for George.

I told you that before. I like George. And if I have never exactly considered him 'hero material', perhaps I just haven't spent enough time with him. Or perhaps George hasn't quite managed to get himself shaped up enough to make the grade as a hero yet.

Lots don't, you know. They need to get a little 'seasoned' in someone else's book first.

You did. Remember when you were prowling around Tallie and Elias's book, grumpy and snarling and out of sorts. Not very heroic, were you?

But when it was time for your book, you did a great job. You showed up, did what you were supposed to do -- even if Martha didn't always approve, and behaved with all the honor and heroism that I would expect of a McAllister hero. And in the end you proved something not only to Martha, but to yourself.

I'm proud of you.

But now, dear Theo, you have to go away. Go on. Shoo. Sail off into the sunset. Enjoy your life as a happily married man. With a dog. And a son. You deserve it.

And I deserve to get on with my work. Trust me. I won't fret about 'fourth walls' and 'diegesis.' They are terms -- not objects of concern. Unless I get it wrong. And if I do, I'll have to fix it. And believe me, you won't be the one to suffer.

That will be me. And Flynn. And Sara.

They are ready to step in and do their part now. Both of them have beeb 'seasoned' too. They've grown and changed a lot, and they've been waiting for this day for six years.

Well, Sara has. And now that it's here, she's got cold feet.

But Flynn is quite ready to warm them. And while he hasn't exactly given it any thought over the past six years -- except occasionally -- now that he has, he's got plans. Lots of them. Most of which he's making up as we go along. Very like Flynn, I'm discovering.

I'm discovering a lot about him these days. Every one is a revelation. And I'm going to spend a while more with him and Sara now. And you, Theo, are decidedly de trop.

One last plug for your contest -- the Grooms' Contest -- which ends on February 10th. Anyone who is interested in having three chances to win books from me, Kate Walker and Liz Fielding has from now until Feb 10th to enter. There are nine questions to answer. Give it a shot. The questions are here. And the answers are on our blogs or websites (but try the blogs first).

I know that Theo and Max and Domenico will be pleased to see your entries. So will Liz and Kate and I. You can send one apiece to each of us. Three chances to win. Great books.

A BIGGER prize, as Theo would tell you.

What Happens When You Leave Them Alone

Hey. Theo here.

Miss me?

Just ducking in for a minute to see how you were all doing. I only stopped in to say hi, to tell you everything is great with us. And then I made the mistake of reading yesterday's blog . . . and what do I find?

My author has gone off the deep end! She's started talking Greek! And not Greek endearments, either.

Diegesis? Good grief!

You can't leave them alone for a minute. She and Kate and Liz were fine while we were here and they had the contest to think about. That and their books. You give them other heroes to keep them out of trouble, and all is well and good.

But then the contest is sailing along under its own steam, we've gone off to celebrate with our ladies, and none of them is deep enough into a story to be consumed, and what happens?

Anne goes off to some Q&A, Kate shows up, Liz shows up, lots of other writers show up -- and they start yammering amongst themselves, carrying on about "fourth walls" and "narratorily this and that . . ." and, heaven help us, diegesis!

What's that when it's home?

No, don't tell me. I don't want to know.

Do you suppose, Jennifer Y., that it's George's middle name? George Diegesis Savas? Hmmm. Has a certain ring, doesn't it? I wouldn't put it past her. Anne's got it in for George. She might even have plans for him.

Is there such a thing as World's Sexiest Physicist?

Maybe when I get back from my honeymoon, I'll introduce him to a few girls. Pity Martha doesn't have any sisters left unhitched. I'll ask about girlfriends. She's probably got a few of those around.

Wonder what he'd do if I sicced Agnetta on him.

Up The Down Street

This morning (or actually late last night) I started doing a Q&A on the eharlequin site about developing fictional worlds.

It's the first time I've done one on their website, though I've done quite a few others to do with genealogical and historical topics. So far it's been interesting and I'm very grateful to everyone who has shown up as it's nice to talk to people and not just post things and wonder if people are reading them or not. Kate Walker, for example, showed up and made us all tea. I really appreciated that.

Michelle Styles, who writes historicals for Harlequin Mills & Boon (and whose first book is on the RNA shortlist for best category romance novel this year) made a particularly good point about creating a believable historical world when she said that the goal was "authenticity" more than it was absolute "accuracy."

And Ally Blake, another Harlequin author, (no, this is not Ally, this is Aristotle) came to explain the term "diegesis" that was first used in ancient Greece to discuss literature. She talked about how it is used in the film world, where it refers to the world in which the story takes place. I checked it out further on wikipedia and found it contrasted with "mimesis" -- which is showing rather than telling.

Later, following on the "diegesis" path I found a particularly good website that discussed the diegetics of Star Trek and explained how it was such a complex and yet cohesive world that when anything significant happened in any of its particular serieses or, for want of a better word, incarnations, there was a reverberating impact throughout the whole of the Star Trek universe.

And that, in a nutshell, is what we're trying to get at. The world you create has to be believable and it has to operate according to rules (either natural or invented, but in either case, consistent) and readers have to come to understand it and know what to expect from it -- they have to buy into the world and want to share in it or you, as a writer, have let them down.

This goes for big things, but it goes for little things, too -- like putting two way traffic on a famous one way street. Or sending the traffic the wrong way up the street. Or putting Bermuda in the Bahamas. Or have six or seven thunderstorms a summer in Southern California where one is actually pretty remarkable.

I like that word: diegesis. I hope I remember it next time I want to use it. And I can hardly wait to see what we end up discussing tomorrow. Join us if you can.

Books and Reviews and Q&As

I'm still in the middle of my box. And I have made the unhappy discovery that the roofers who tore off the three old roofs (rooves?) a few years back never covered anything before they did it. So all the dirt from the roof cascaded into the boxes below. The have a lot to answer for. It's a long slow process because I'm vacuuming the pages of the books I'm keeping. Grrrr.

But in the midst of it all, I had a lovely email today from the cata-romance reviewer Julie Bonello who has just posted a review of The Santorini Bride that will make Theo very very happy indeed. I know it made me happy!

First, she gave it 4 1/2 stars. Then she said it was "sensuous." (For Theo's benefit I did a word search for "sweet" and the word didn't even appear on the page. He'll be over the moon!)

Anyway, this is what Julie wrote:

Teaser	In her latest Harlequin Presents title, The Santorini Bride, Anne McAllister takes her readers to the exotic sunshine of Greece and the icy coldness of Montana in a wonderful romantic novel that is absolutely impossible to put down!
Review	Finding her boyfriend in the shower with another woman is not the sort of homecoming artist Martha Antonides envisaged! Hurt, betrayed and humiliated, she packs her bags and empties her savings account and flies off to Greek isle of Santorini to her parent’s holiday house for some peace and quiet. She’s looking forward to spending some time by herself where nobody can reach her so the last thing she’s expecting is to find a stranger living in her house! Finding out that her feckless father lost the house during a golf game was a huge shock for Martha, but so is finding out that she’s attracted to the man – and it looks like she’s not the only one for Theo Savas is dubbed the world’s sexiest sailor! Theo has only fallen in love once and after that disastrous episode, he has vowed to never give his heart to another woman ever again. But there is something about Martha which he just cannot resist and when they agree to spend one night together, little do they know that their whole lives are about to be changed forever… The Santorini Bride is a captivating romance which has got keeper stamped all over it! Readers will fall in love with Anne McAllister’s exquisitely drawn characters, Martha and Theo. Martha is a fantastic heroine who is fiery, feisty, stubborn but absolutely wonderful while Theo is charming, charismatic and drop dead gorgeous! You can never go wrong with an Anne McAllister novel! Smart, sassy, dramatic, passionate and absolutely hilarious, her novels take you through the entire gamut of emotions and The Santorini Bride is the latest in a long line of spellbinding stories by this well-loved storyteller.
Reviewer	Julie Bonello

If you want to check out the cata-romance site (a wonderful website devoted to category romance that if you should check out regularly for reviews, interviews and general all-around good information on the books), click on the link. It will take you to Julie's review of Theo and Martha's book. But from there you can hop all over the site.

I'm preparing my first posting for the Q&A on "Building Fictional Worlds" that I'll be doing on the eharlequin site beginning on Monday. I actually think, with luck, I might post if before I go to bed tonight. Then I can see if anyone turns up in the morning. After all, it's already Monday in Australia and New Zealand and India, among other places. In less than an hour it will be in UK. If I wait until it's my Monday it will be almost over everywhere else in the world!

Please join me. I can use all the questions you can manage to pose!

Going Through Boxes

One of our goals this year is to get through 52 boxes in the attic. One a week.

This may not seem like a lot, but doing one box a week is better than we've done for the past 33 1/2 years we've lived in this house. Of course, for a lot of those years we were putting stuff IN the attic, not taking it OUT.

And not only were we putting stuff in the attic, but so were the kids. And it is A Truth of Life that when kids go away to college, they come home in the summer with stuff, but the stuff never leaves when they do in the autumn. It stays behind. And grows. Exponentially.

Textbooks breed in my attic. So do holey sweatshirts and hand weights and head bands and jock straps. It's indecent what they do up there.

So we're working at moving them out. That's the theory anyway.

So when our daughter was home at Christmas, we said, "How about going up to the attic and seeing if you can't get rid of some stuff?" And so she went up and came back down with half a dozen boxes and set them in my office, and proceeded to laugh herself silly over what she found.

Mostly there were boxes that said IMPORTANT! ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL! DO NOT THROW OUT! -- and she went through them, throwing everything away, going, "Why did you let me keep this stuff? This is junk! Why would I want my notes from second year high school German?"

I don't know. But apparently they were absolutely essential when they migrated to the attic. The attic was six boxes lighter when she left.

Then our youngest son came home and went up to the attic and got about ten boxes and came down and pitched virtually all of it out as well. He got trash bags and filled them and put them out by the rubbish bin. "There. That's taken care of," he said. It took him about an hour, all told. A few days later he left.

Suddenly the bags started migrating back in.

"What's this?" I said, when I caught The Prof with a bag coming in the door.

"He can't just throw these things out," The Prof said. "We might need them!"

My brows lifted. It must be said that I was not the primary instigator of the "let's de-rubbish the attic" adventure. "We might?" I said doubtfully.

"Mmph," said The Prof on his way back upstairs.

There is a distinct difference in the way Father and Son deal with attic detritus. Son takes one look and if it isn't immediately obvious that he will need it sometime in the next week, it's gone. Father examines each piece with excruciating care, evaluates its possible future contributions to the welfare of the entire family for the next three generations, and then decides on the fate of each piece.

The Myers-Briggs personality people would have a field day with these two.

Let me just say that a few bits have made it into the Revised Version of The Trash. More has been carted off somewhere else (the basement? I shudder to think. And I Will Not Ask).

I'm doing my bit. I've got my box down and it has, God help me, my notes in it from high school Spanish. Also the paper I wrote for senior English lit, also a bunch of books that my children chewed on more than read.

And while I had no trouble at all sending the notes and the paper to the dust bin, I am rather less inclined to part with the books. I can still see the teeth marks on some of them. And I remember countless hours of reading all of them aloud to my children. The memories are priceless -- and maybe worth keeping a few of those books for. The best of the lot will go to the grandkids (I've already informed Mr Toss-It that his coming child is going to get a box of books quite soon).

52 boxes? Maybe. We'll try. But there's a lifetime of stuff up there. Some of it isn't Absolutely Essential at all. But some of it brings back memories long buried.

For that alone -- for taking out again and touching the memories -- a few things at least are worth keeping.

Long Live The Grooms!

Okay, the Brides have all awarded their contest prizes.

Congratulations to Alice's winner: Stanislava Ivanova and to Louise's: Chrystal Broyles! And congrats again to Laurie Bertram who won Martha's prize.

The books will be going out from here tomorrow, ladies.

Everyone else, you still can enter the Grooms' Contest until February 10th. So take a chance. You will have to do a little more research than you did for the brides, but you get three times as many great stories to read -- and three more chances to win them!

From Theo you get a copy of my three-in-one book containing three complete novels: The Cowboy's Code, containing Cowboys Don't Quit, Cowboys Don't Stay and The Cowboy and the Kid (Romantic Times's Best Series Novel of the Year) PLUS a copy of the book in which somebody named Theo Savakis is the hero by an author whose name you have to figure out. And really, how hard is that? Use google!

From Domenico each winner will get Kate's best-selling Alcolar Family trilogy: The Twelve-Month Mistress, The Spaniard's Inconvenient Wife and Bound by Blackmail.

And from Max you'll get a collection of Liz's other “Groom” books: A Suitable Groom (it wasn’t issued retail in the States and these are her last copies); Her Wish-List Bridegroom (which was shortlisted for an RT Reviewers Choice award) and, Her Corporate Bridegroom.

So you don't have to go back and look up the questions, I'm putting them below:


FROM THEO:


1) Which book, also being published in February has a hero called Theo Savakis (who is NOT ME because he is going to marry Miranda Weston and I am going to marry MARTHA!) and who is the author of that book?

2) My (Theo's) sister was the heroine of an earlier McAllister book. What's the name of the book -- and the full name of my sister?

3) McAllister says there is "another hero" in The Santorini Bride (which isn't true, by the way). What breed of dog is Ted?


DOMENICO’S QUESTIONS:

1 Where did Kate celebrate a book launch party this month and which famous novelist did she meet there?

2. What award did Kate's February release - The Italian's Forced Bride win?

3. If the winner of The Brides Contest has already read The Italian's Forced Bride, Kate will give away a copy of her March M&B Modern release which also had Bride in the title. What is the name of this book – and what is the name of it’s hero?


AND MAX'S QUESTIONS:


1) St Valentine’s Day is a worldwide phenomenon, but Liz lives in Wales and they have their own special day for lovers in January. What’s the date? And what is the name of the saint involved?

2) The Valentine Bride (the book that Louise and I share), is the last one in a mini series. What was the series called? Name another author who wrote a book in that series (you've got seven to