From Pat Rice:
As you may have already ascertained, I’m not the most PC person in this group. Nor the most educated or intellectual or thoughtful. I tell it like it is, and you can take it or toss it aside. I recommend you toss this one aside.
I’ve been having one of those days. Or weeks. Or lives. Whatever. It’s mid-August and all of New York City New York City
New York City
New York City
To start my day, I received the new cover art for my next contemporary (note to self, look up pub date), which my editor has told me I will love. Having been ordered to do so, I agree, I love it. Great colors. It’s an adirondack chair sitting beside a pond in a field of summer flowers. Quite pretty. I’ve always wanted to read a book about adirondack chairs. Note to self, buy this book to find out how people get out of those pretzel-twister chairs.
I go back to watching the hummingbird out the window while I figure out how to push my next contemporary heroine off a cliff. The phone rings, interrupting fantasy of hero with flapping wings pulling her back.
It’s my historical editor, who finally wants to discuss the six-book series I talked to her about a year ago. I’ve just turned in the first book, and I have five more great characters and a real swashbuckling fantasy/adventure that’s carried across sea and land in one of my favorite time periods, the Georgian era. Think Scarlet Pimpernel meets the X-Men on a quest.
My editor is equally thrilled with the idea, hallelujah! She wants a cover “look” for the entire series, which, BTW, needs to be cut down to a trilogy so marketing can keep it on the shelves.
Ya win some, ya lose some.
Oh, and BTW, do I happen to have any idea what kind of cover I’d like on these books? The cover conference is next week.
In this case, yes, I do have some idea! Hurray for me. I send appropriate weblink and editor is very happy.
I, in the meantime, am contemplating slitting my throat. Maybe the wrist would be easier.
Leaving heroine hanging off cliff where she belongs, I go back to perusing the copyedit on the book about the nonexistent adirondack chair. (Hero sits in director’s chair. Wonder if artist could put director’s chair by pond. . .)
Copyedits are works of art, and this copyeditor has been quite good to me. He/she has forced me to face my own timeline and caught all my wandering clauses and missing commas. This is what a good copyeditor does. And she’s even found better words for ones my addled brain couldn’t conjure up the day I wrote some really. . . interesting. . . sentences. But she has this habit of adding “have” to every verb where it seems that I may have accidentally forgotten it. This last has some. . . interesting. . . results, as in “She wasn’t used to having a man in the kitchen.” Think about it.
Maybe my heroine ought to spice up her sex life and try a man in the kitchen next time. That way, she won’t be jumping off cliffs.
Having decided that slitting wrists and throats would require pain and mess, I check my e-mail. My historical editor has been a busy little bee. She writes that she thinks we ought to add a man’s face to the mystical landscapes for the cover art. She points out wonderful sexy images. . .which means. . . wait for it. . .WE NEED NEW TITLES. Mystic Maiden probably isn’t appropriate with a man hanging above it. Frantic thesaurus thumbing ensues. Panicked e-mails to brainstorming pals. More thesaurus thumbing.
Has this day ended yet?
Having compiled a fascinating collection of Mystic names that I intend to use on every book until the day I die, I prepare an e-mail with my choices. Only to discover an e-mail in my box from my editor with her three choices. Which, I am, of course, going to love.
And I will, too, just as soon as I finish making paper dolls out of the outline for the next book that I no longer need since Book Two, Three, and Four are now ether.
Oh, and I guess I’d better find that magic box which I’ve apparently misplaced in hopes that it contains a brand new outline for Book Five now that I’ve ditched the guys that were going to retrieve the chalice which would produce the fair maiden. . .
I bet my agent doesn’t have e-mail in her d*mned mountains. But if she has an adirondack chair, she’d better figure out how to get out of it before my X-ray vision vaporizes it into the ether.
Since Typepad is refusing to allow me to edit out the Purple Prose Princess and add my links and questions, I’m attempting to add them here. I told you, it’s one of those days!
The magic link I sent to my editor: http://www.powergalleryhawaii.com/
I think it only fair that we get to ask questions if we answer them—
Are you more likely to pick up a book with people or faces in the landscape then one without them?
Would you pick up one with an adirondack chair? Why? <G>
If the romance is fully satisfied within the pages of a book, do you mind if a piece of the story arc continues to the next book?