Last night I continued writing the romance novel. No one told me it would be this hard! Geeze. I keep telling myself to just write it out, no matter how much the words suck now, just to get the framework going. I will say that I find myself thinking during each day about the characters and how they will be interacting, and [this sounds nutty as a pecan sandy but i've heard other novelists say it so don't commit me] I am actually excited to read how they will come to their first kiss, how they will handle the tension that develops between them, how they will fall in love. I'm feeling a "passion" for them that I've heard other writers talk about with their characters. And that is how I know this is the right book for me to write now.

In the shower this morning I asked myself if I will "cheese" it up to sell it if that is what it takes, and I decided that I would. The first draft will turn out to be for me, I'm sure, but the revisions will make it for that romance audience.

hey! again, just write the damn thing first, huh?

I decided that I would let the world be my guide as to what to place on my new Granny Smith iPod. We are fortunate to shop in a supermarket that plays very good music (at least by my standards), and yesterday, on the way to the paper aisle, "Another Cup of Coffee" came on, which I hadn't heard in quite a long time and which got me to singing and bopping around. So I followed the sign I'd been given and went directly to the CD when I arrived home (amazing to find it in the first place I looked, so quick after not having played it in so long!) and loaded it up.

Listening to the album while checking typeset pages today, I came to an important decision:

Paul Carrack has the sexiest male singing voice of all male singers.















I know, you thought that I thought, as I've thought for many years, that Michael McDonald had the sexiest voice ever.

















He is a close second now, my good people. Hard to replace, yes, but I think it's been done.

Went to see The Holiday tonight, the "girlfriends go out to the girl movie" night. This gave much more of what we wanted from a movie than did The Lake House, and although I agree with many of the reviews, The Holiday was rather innocent and cute. Yes, Eli Wallach was the star (very good), and my girlfriend and I wanted much more magic from Jack Black and Kate Winslet, and yes, this movie was obvious ... but we had to admit that the expressions and smiles and looks from Jude Law made it good enough to watch. (After deciding to check at the door how we feel about him personally, we found ourselved often entranced.) Although the script has been criticized, I did like many of the lines, even if they were overdramatic at times. There were nice subtleties, and Jack Black (a favorite, as many of you know) was good (would have been better with more screen time!!).

Of course, the more romance I see and read, the better I think I can make my damn novel, so all things help. I was paying particular attention to the way that the awkward moments were presented, how the male characters handled their sensitivity, and whether the men's lines were believeable and sincere. All in the name of research.

Some good news came today, which is so rare of late that I actually read the letter three times to be sure that it was not masquerading as a nasty notice of some kind. One of the editors of a poetry magazine in which I have published has nominated my poem for a Pushcart Prize. I realize that many writers have been nominated, but it does still mean a lot to me. Especially these days. I am, although not hopeful, very excited.