The best words in the English language

There's been some challenging stuff happening in my life lately. I can't go into details, but I do think we should have a group hug and maybe pat each other's butts a bit in case you're going through some rough stuff, too.

What am I saying? Butt pats feel good even if there's no rough stuff.

And now I've accidentally steered this blog post to the subject of spanking, which is really not where I meant to go. Blame my inner romance author, who is a brazen hussy with no sense of decorum.

What I really wanted to talk about is an email I got the other day from my parents. They were fulfilling their duty as the best parents on the planet by offering kind words of encouragement and support. "Just know," they wrote, "we've got your back."

Something about that phrase dissolved me into a sniveling, sentimental baby. I posted on Facebook declaring those to be the best words in the English language.

I still think that's true, though my less sentimental self might find other phrases equally worthy of admiration. My upcoming romantic comedy, Believe it or Not, has a love scene that spans nearly 20 pages. I had a great time writing it, and I'll admit there are a few groupings of words that make me deliciously happy in a different way. (Drew: I love the way you say my name. Violet: So make me scream it.)

Other phrases that could be contenders for my favorite words in the English language:

• There's free wine and food at the party.
• Why don't you go read a book while I clean the house?
• Here's a check we weren't expecting!
• Want a massage?
• You're so hot you melt the elastic in my underwear.

The jury might still be out on that last one. What are some of your favorite words in the English language? Please share!

And line up over there for the extra hugs and butt pats. This could take awhile.

On being too stupid to live

One of the most common annoyances readers cite about the romance genre is the TSTL heroine.

For those unversed in the (also annoying) acronyms used by romance writers, that's short for Too Stupid to Live.

You've met the TSTL heroine. She's the one who marches unarmed into a dark basement to investigate mysterious chainsaw noises. You'll find her stomping her pretty little foot in a jealous huff after spotting the hero embracing a woman who shares his hair and eye color on the weekend his sister is slated to visit.

I work hard at never writing TSTL heroines, and count on critique partners and beta readers to ensure my heroines remain at an IQ level higher than the average lichen. But I'll admit I've had the occasional To Stupid to Live moments of my own.

When I was younger, I used to skim newspaper classifieds for entertainment. People would lump a variety of items into a single ad, hocking a 1974 Oldsmobile, a litter of kittens, and a 10 pound bag of freeze dried brine shrimp eggs all in the same ad.

I never realized how
phallic the oboe is
until I stuck this pic on
my blog. You'll never
blow one the same way
again

Still, it seemed odd to me that so many people were selling that sonorous, double-reed musical instrument, the oboe. Not only were they selling them, they were repeatedly misspelling the name by omitting the "e" on the end.

When I told a friend I'd like to play the oboe and explained my reason for thinking I could get a good deal on one, she stared at me like I had a ham sandwich protruding from my nostril.

"That's OBO, you idiot," she said sweetly. "It's short for Or Best Offer."

Oh.

I'd like to blame the misunderstanding on youth and inexperience, but that wouldn't explain why I did something similar only a few weeks ago. Since I adore cooking, my brother and his girlfriend recently sent me a subscription to a Rachael Ray magazine packed full of recipes. I began skimming at once, perplexed to see how many of them called for a mysterious ingredient, EVOO.

For weeks, I kept reminding myself to google the word. I assumed it was a brand name for some sort of seasoning Rachael was pitching, and wondered what I could use instead. From context clues, I decided olive oil might be a fair substitution.

It wasn't until I pulled the bottle out of the cupboard that it clicked for me.

EVOO = Extra Virgin Olive Oil.

So those are a few of my TSTL moments. Got any of your own to share? Please do, so I know I'm not alone! And if you're one of those annoying people who never does anything stupid, I'd love to hear about your experiences reading TSTL characters. What are some things that really annoy the snot out of you? Please share!

On heavy breathing & good reviews

I used to think authors were full of crap when they whined about the pressure they feel after a debut novel.

Will the next book get panned? Will readers sneer and insist the first was better? Will groups of roving literary bullies find me in a dark alley and snap my bra and stick ballpoint pens in my eyeballs and light me on fire while chanting "you suck, one hit wonder!"?

It's true – these are the things new authors worry about.

That's why I'm breathing a huge sigh of relief right now (insert heaving bosom joke here).

Early reviews are trickling in for my second romantic comedy, Believe it or Not, which hits shelves in early March. Lucky for me, reviewers have been saying such nice things, I start bawling every time I read what they've written.

Here's a sampling:

From Booklist magazine (a starred review!):
Mar 2012. 384 p. Sourcebooks/Casablanca, paperback, $6.99. (9781402257186).
Fenske’s second romance, after Making Waves (2011), mixes laugh-out-loud funny scenes with a charming pair bent on not becoming a couple. When psychic Moonbeam breaks her pelvis and a number of other bones and lands in the hospital, her daughter, accountant Violet (named for her eye color), returns from Portland, Maine, to her hometown of Portland, Oregon, to take over the psychic-reading business until her mother recovers. There she meets Drew, who owns and runs a bar that features male strippers a couple of nights a week. Although the air ignites when Violet and Drew are together, they agree they aren’t each other’s type. This is just as well since Violet is struggling to give psychic readings and to balance her long-distance accounting clients. Drew, on the other hand, thinks he is perfectly fine dating bimbos, even though he has become somewhat bored with his life. Snappy, endearing dialogue and often hilarious situations unite the couple, and Fenske proves to be a romance author worthy of a loyal following. — Pat Henshaw

From RT Book Reviews magazine (a 4.5 star review, their highest score!):
Genre: Contemporary Romance, General Contemporary Romance
Sensuality: HOT
Fenske hits all the right humor notes without teetering into the pit of slapstick in her lighthearted book of strippers, psychics, free spirits and an accountant. She handles the cast of oddball characters well, making them sympathetic, funny and very real. Violet has always been embarrassed by her mother’s wackiness, but she doesn’t hesitate to fly across the country when her mom is injured. Now she is stuck running her mom’s psychic studio, even though she doesn’t believe in it. Next door is a bar run by Drew, who’s hotter than the male strippers he hires. He quickly reconsiders his ongoing battle with Miss Moonbeam after meeting her seriously sexy daughter. As Drew and Violet fight their sexual attraction, they can’t seem to stay out of each other’s lives, especially when the businesses are threatened and Violet’s “psychic powers” put the wrong guy in jail. (SOURCEBOOKS, Mar., 352 pp., $6.99) Reviewed By: M.H. Morrison

From Publisher's Weekly:
Fenske’s sophomore effort (after Making Waves) is an extended meet-cute scenario, with an entertainingly quirky cast that makes for fine escapist reading as long as the reader is willing to exert a stronger than normal suspension of disbelief. When popular psychic Moonbeam is hospitalized, her accountant daughter, Violet, reluctantly steps in to run the shop. Neighboring bar owner Drew Watson has found success by bringing in male exotic dancers. Despite Violet’s protestations about preferring life in Portland, Maine, to Portland, Ore.; her attempts to reciprocate the romantic attentions of Moonbeam’s orthopedic surgeon; and Drew’s stated skepticism of psychic powers and disinterest in dating a type-A woman, they immediately generate a great deal of sexual tension, plus Drew keeps “randomly” selecting songs that answer Violet’s clients’ questions. Are circumstances conspiring to bring them together or drive them apart? Sexually charged dialogue and steamy make-out scenes will keep readers turning the pages to discover the answer. Agent: Michelle Wolfson, Wolfson Literary Agency. (Mar.)

***

There's another awesome review at The Last Word blog, which is so beautifully thorough and detailed, I'd rather send you there to read it than regurgitate the whole thing on my blog.

So that's what has me feeling oh-so-relieved on this Friday morning. How about you? Anything giving you a reason to wipe the sweat from your brow and say, "Yes, YES, YES!"

Please share!

The joys and burdens of being the office pervert

When I started my day job doing marketing/PR for my city's tourism bureau over a year ago, they knew up front about my life as a romance author.

The first thing they saw when they visited my blog the day I interviewed was a post titled "My hole got plugged, so my jugs aren't full." Suffice it to say, they know what I'm about and they're OK with it.

It didn't take long for me to establish myself as the office pervert. It happened by accident during a discussion about brochures to educate tourists on local activities.

"We could group kayaking, whitewater rafting, standup paddleboarding, and canoeing under the same heading," someone suggested.

"Sure, we could just title it Watersports," another staffer agreed.

I started laughing, assuming she'd said it to be humorous. Everyone turned and stared at me. "What's so funny?"

I stopped laughing. "You're joking, right?"

"About what?"

I cleared my throat. "Watersports? You want to have a brochure in the lobby encouraging people to pee on each other for sexual pleasure?"

They looked at me like I'd just yanked off the boss's underwear and put it on my head. It was then I realized I was the only one familiar with the filthy slang term.

Just to prove I wasn't making it up, I googled "watersports slang" and sent the link to the team. That was my first lesson in, "let's not put anything in office email we wouldn't want appearing in a city audit."

I tried to be good after that, keeping snickers to a minimum even when someone declared in a meeting, "this recession has been hard on all of us."

But I was forced to trot out the pervert card again when I spotted a colleague's Facebook post on the company page promoting a local ice skating rink. "Who wants to snowball with me?" she wrote, obviously trying to add a little personal flair to the post.

I assume snowball is some sort of ice skating trick. I also assume the perverts reading the post would know the other definition of the term. The meaning so filthy, I'm not going to explain it here, nor am I going to encourage you to google it unless you're safe at home and free from risk your loved ones will analyze your browser history.

Let's just say it isn't something my colleague would wish to offer as a service in a public forum.

I tried to explain, but that didn't seem like a conversation we should have in an office environment. "Just go home tonight and google snowball sexual slang," I told her. "And keep an eye on the Facebook post in case the perverts take the bait."

I went a few more months with my pervert card tucked safely in my wallet. I was doing pretty well until our director of sales and sports development announced we're hosting a national fly fishing championship and requested my help with the press release yesterday.

"Tell me a little more about the sport," I emailed. "How is it scored?"

"It's measured, and total inches gives you your ranking," he explained in a reply message. "If you have the highest number of inches on a section, you get first place and/or 1 point."

I couldn't resist. "This is the filthiest email I’ve gotten all week," I wrote back. "Nice work."

When we passed in the hall, he just shook his head. "Only you would think that."

It's safe to say that was my proudest moment at work.

How about you? Do you have particular reputation in your place of business? Is it something you'd be ashamed to tell your mother? Please share!

I'll be busy snickering over another email about fly fishing's measurement-based scoring system. Apparently, it's a hands-on process.

Wordless Wednesday: Things making me smile

I've tried before to do Wordless Wednesday posts, but I always seem to screw it up with....well, words.

Like these ones.

Or these ones.

No matter, here are a few things that have made me smile in the last couple weeks:

Our local newspaper recently ran an article about a couple that's spent a lifetime traveling the world's canals. "Check out this crazy article in the paper," declared my gentleman friend as he covered the "c" with his thumb. Now you see why I'm nuts about him?

I do a lot of chats with book clubs via Skype, telephone conference, or even in person if the group lives nearby. After I had the pleasure of Skype chatting with this wonderful bunch of Making Waves fans in Ohio, they were kind enough to send me this photo. If you happen to have a book club of your own, give me a shout if you'd like to chat about Making Waves, Getting Dumped, or Believe it or Not.

December is crazy at the day job, so we had our holiday party in late-January. The boss didn't want anyone driving after our alcohol-infused starlight snowshoe tour, so he kindly arranged lodging in a fancy downtown hotel. My gentleman friend and I ordered breakfast in bed the next morning, and the instant I opened the door for the room service attendant, I realized I should have tidied a bit first.

A blog reader snapped this photo and emailed it to me, knowing the innuendo would make me giggle. It did. It definitely did!

 So what's been making YOU smile lately? Please share!

Not safe for work....but you totally want to watch this!

For a few weeks now, I've been gushing about Coliloquy, the publisher that just released my quirky romantic caper, Getting Dumped, as one of their first "interactive fiction" titles.

When my agent first called me about getting involved with something so new and unique and...um, well, different, I'll admit it – I didn't totally understand. Choose-your-own-adventure? For grownups? On Kindle? Well, OK...maybe.

It wasn't until I had a chance to talk with Coliloquy co-founder Lisa Rutherford that I totally got it.

And holy cow, you'd better believe I signed that contract within hours.

Since I'm guessing some of you might still be hazy on the concept, I wanted to share a video of the amazing Lisa Rutherford speaking at a conference and offering a demo of how different types of interactive fiction can work. It's an awesome overview not only of the interactive fiction concept, but of why Coliloquy is so incredible I just had to get involved.

I'll warn you there might be a tiny smidge of risque language right near the end, so consider this not safe for work.

But you should definitely check it out when you aren't surrounded by co-workers or toddlers or monkeys easily offended by slang terms for female genitalia. I promise it'll get you as jazzed about interactive fiction as everyone else seems to be.

Here's the link (with a little intro text to set things up, just so you know you won't go straight to the video).

Whaddya think? Exciting, huh?

And admit it....are you as delighted as I am by the idea of customized erotica? I think I need to lie down now.

A mouthful of something nasty

Though I've been living with a collection of male housemates for nearly a year now, there are still mornings I stumble downstairs and yelp at the sight of three grown men lounging at my eating bar.

One glance into our shared refrigerator is enough to remind me just how different my life has become. The freezer is packed with fish sticks and frozen french fries. The ratio of beer to milk is generally 10 to 1. The housemate who hails from Louisiana makes sure we have two metric tons of butter on hand at all times.

We share staple items like flour, milk, and eggs, but have a hands-off respect for special purchases like wine or meat or candy.

At least until someone gets hungry. Then all bets are off.

"What's in that Styrofoam box in the freezer?" one of the housemates asked the other night. "It tastes awful."

"Styrofoam box?" I asked.

"Yeah. It looks like candy but it doesn't taste good."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. "Tell me you didn't eat the bloodworms."

"Bloodworms?"

"The little frozen cubes in the foil packet?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's it. What are bloodworms?"

"They're a form of mosquito larva."

He frowned, looking a little green. "Why do you have mosquito larva in the freezer?"

"They're for the fish! In the aquarium? Haven't you watched me feed them pretty much every night? Why on earth would you eat that?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was chocolate."

"Chocolate that looks like hunks of frozen blood?"

It's likely there was beer involved. Which reminds me, we're running low. What's the grossest thing you've ever eaten, either by accident or on purpose? Please share!

And I'll be happy to share my chocolate anytime.

What's so funny?

A common question people throw at me in interviews is how I ended up writing comedy.

It's sometimes asked with the same tone you'd use to inquire how someone ended up living in the back of a Subaru eating Spam and carrying on conversations with a sock puppet named Leroy.

I usually explain that I come from a family of people with ridiculously clever senses of humor, and that if you lined us all up from funniest to least funny, I'd be somewhere near the tail end near the potted fern. It's true most members of my family are terrific comics, but I seldom touch on why.

I'm pretty sure it boils down to the fact that my mom has the best laugh in the whole world.

I won't even try to describe it because there's no way to do it justice. Suffice it to say, it's equal parts unfettered joy and holycowIthinkshemightpeeherpants.

Getting my mom to laugh like that became a family mission from the time my brother and I were still telling knock-knock jokes with no punchline. Even today, there's an unspoken competition among family members for who can make my mother laugh 'til her mascara runs.

With a goal like that, it's no wonder I grew up to write romantic comedy.

What is it about some people's laughter that makes it the vocal equivalent of joy-juice for everyone within a 200-yard radius? I was thinking about this a few mornings ago when one of the housemates and I were standing in the kitchen contemplating whether turning on lights and making toast were really worth the effort.

From the other side of the wall, we heard the sound of gut-splitting laughter. It was like instant sunshine in our dark little kitchen and we both just stood there listening to my gentleman friend howl.

My housemate grinned. "He has the best laugh."

I smiled back, a little surprised by the observation. "That's the reason I hang out with him."

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"One of the reasons," I amended. "But an important one."

Is there someone in your life whose laughter has the ability to totally make your day? On the flip-side, have you ever had to force yourself not to snicker at someone with a particularly unusual laugh? Please share!

Oh, and in case you're wondering what prompted my gentleman friend's maniacal laughter that morning, he was watching videos at BadLipreading.com. This is one of his recent favorites:

Good questions from you guys; great answers from Coliloquy

It’s been two weeks since Coliloquy launched my new “active fiction” title, Getting Dumped. We’ve been thrilled to bits with the media buzz, reader feedback, and shirtless men appearing on the doorsteps of all Coliloquy authors to offer free housecleaning services.

Wait, not everyone got the shirtless men?

No matter, I’ve been fielding quite a few questions about Coliloquy and their groundbreaking new “choose your own adventure” approach to reading. The powers-that-be (who are so powerful they kill superheroes with their minds) kindly agreed to provide answers. Here’s the inside scoop straight from the Coliloquy crew:

Q: What do you mean by “active fiction?”

A: Most books are offered as static content – they’re written, published, and purchased by readers who don’t have much interaction with the story. But Coliloquy offers books as active content applications. That means authors and readers get to interact with the stories through a bunch of different mechanics, including multiple “what if” storylines and choice points. You can choose one path through the story and then change courses and see how another version turns out. Authors get to see reader choices and data, which allows them to use that feedback to shape the next episode of the story.

Q: Do I need to have a Kindle, or can I read Coliloquy titles on my Nook, my iPad, the Kindle software on my phone, or the mildew patterns on my shower curtain?

A: For initial launch, Coliloquy focused on the heaviest users and largest market share by starting with Amazon, so right now, titles are only available on Kindle, Kindle Touch, Kindle DX and Kindle Keyboard devices. However, more platforms will be available in the near future. Stay tuned!

Q: I live in Australia (or Canada or the UK or Uranus). Can I buy Coliloquy titles for myself or as a gift for a friend in the US?

A: Alas, Amazon doesn’t allow readers outside the US to purchase Coliloquy titles for themselves or for others just yet, but we hope to have that capability in the future. And we’re very sorry about Uranus.

Q: I devoured the first episode of Getting Dumped, only to discover that bitch of an author left me hanging. What gives?

A: The cliffhanger at the end of the first episode is intentional because Tawna is an evil hussy like that. We’ve chained her to her desk where she’s being forced by a team of rabid monkeys to type with one hand while using the other hand to skim data on the choices readers make in the first episode. Since she doesn’t have a free hand for anything else, she’s understandably frustrated.

Q: How will I know when the next episode is available?

A: Tawna will communicate that information to you telepathically. In case that fails, our friends at Amazon are going to let you know.

Q: Is there someplace I can find recipes for the amazing food described in Getting Dumped?

A: At the moment, the recipes are buried deep in the recesses of Tawna’s brain, which is a scary place to be. We’re attempting to extract them with a bent coat hanger and a jar of grape jelly, so watch this blog for future details.

Q: Admit it, is Tawna really your favorite among the Coliloquy authors?

A: Well, if you promise not to tell anyone…

It’s possible I made up that last one.

It’s also possible I’ve missed a question or two you guys might have about Coliloquy, Getting Dumped, or the price of a lap dance at your local landfill. Is there anything else you need to know? Ask away! 

 UPDATE!

Woohooo! We just got word that Amazon is running a special promotion for Coliloquy titles. For a limited time, you can nab Getting Dumped for only $1.99. Yay!

Guess where I am?

With the official release of Believe it or Not less than a month away, I'm gearing up for another "virtual book tour."

That means I'll once again be spreading my blog seed far and wide on sites other than this one.

I learned some valuable lessons on the last round. For one, it's not physically possible for me to write more than seven blog posts in a day. For another, I can drink a whole lot more Chianti than you might imagine.

This time around, I'll be smarter about using my own blog to direct readers to posts I've written elsewhere. For instance, I just wrote a post at Romancing the Genres talking about where love scenes come from. You can read it here.

I promise it'll be a whole lot more entertaining than reading another paragraph of excuses for why I didn't write a creative post here today.

Visit me over there, say hello, and learn all about what my gentleman friend did to make me squirm beneath the covers.