Claire

I see these kinds of posts on others’ blogs and from the title I first think, “oh here we go…” but often I find them poignant and funny. I can’t promise the same for my list but I feel confident that I have nailed stupid and disturbing.

1. I am bad with decimal points. I’m a CPA, good with numbers (well, integers anyway), can estimate my grocery bill pretty darn close but ask me to multiply or divide anything with a decimal and I’m rendered a village idiot.

2. I can’t hold an object on a level plane if I’m not looking at it. I inherited this from my mother apparently because I always remember my father teasing her. I’ve passed it on to my oldest son now. Sigh… This is why I was a restaurant hostess and not a waitress in my salad days.

3. Street lights and parking garage lights turn on and off when I approach or pass beneath them…with frightening regularity. When I pointed this out to my husband many years ago, he began to notice my strange power too. Heightened awareness of a random event? Perhaps. However, sometimes I go out on my front porch and if our street light happens to be off or flickering like it’s ready to burn out, I’ll point my finger at it and it will usually come back on then burn steadily. Freaky. Continue reading →

For February’s AW blog chain, the topic is fitting for Valentine’s day–“love”. Charlotte49ers preceded me and Breddings will follow me. The complete list of participants will wrap up my post. Give ’em a read (after mine, of course).

I enjoy reading about love so it’s only natural that it’s my preferred genre of novel-writing. I think my first exposures to love stories (other than those trashy True Romance magazines we found hidden at my grandmother’s house) were Jane Austen, Phyllis Whitney, Victoria Holt, Mary Stewart and of course, Margaret Mitchell. Most were chaste slow burns, often with a gothic or sinister setting. Gone With The Wind was, of course, of epic proportions and included the scandalous dub-con scene with Rhett and Scarlett. What I really liked about Stewart and Holt were the first person voices many of their novels used; it was me in the heroine’s shoes, me the hero loved, me who lived happily ever after.

I’m no longer that sighing young teenager but other than my exterior toughening up like a Dooney and Bourke all weather leather purse, I haven’t changed much. I still love that little roller coaster ride I get in my stomach when a character, through a look or a word, lets the reader know that he’s in love. The spice is even nicer if the hero or heroine isn’t quite in sync yet with the object of his or her affection. The build up of sexual tension is as delicious, if not more so, than its release. Continue reading →