... and one GRAND PRIZE BASKET containing one signed copy of each book, along with various other swag and goodies!!!

So send an e-mail to giveaway@literarychicks.com with your name, address and phone number and we'll be randomly selecting this motherlode of winners at the end of the month! Good luck, everybody!!

Big Literary Chick Love,

Lani, Alesia, Michelle, Eileen, Whitney, and Beth

Posted by Alesia at 1:01 PM | Comments (3)

January 20, 2006

Ready for my close-up

From Beth, fashion victim no more...

So this week my friend Kelly the fabulous fashion designer flew out from Los Angeles to help me promote the new book, and I have discovered a whole new frontier of style.

Kelly is one of those strikingly confident women who is forever throwing on the most startling clothing combinations and making it look like she just mugged a runway model in Paris. She’ll pair one of her own hand sewn silk corsets with $14 pants from Target, white pumps, and earrings from a teenybopper store at the mall ($3 on clearance!) and you look at her and writhe with envy. She can wear hats, for God’s sake. I would kill to be able to get away with hats.

Since we were going to do TV interviews, Kelly graciously offered to act as my personal stylist and doll me up in her designer goodies for each appearance. “We’ll work with what’s already in your closet,” she assured me as she pulled all manner of slinky tank tops and capelets out of her suitcase. “Go find your favorite pair of black pants and a white button down shirt.”

“Hmm,” I said. “I don’t have a white button-down shirt.”

“You what?”

I shrugged. “Well, I had a PMS meltdown a few months ago and decided that I hate button down shirts and completely purged them from my wardrobe.”

The look on her face. It was like I just announced that I wore sandals with socks.

“Okay, well, we’ll work around that. Go grab some black pants.”

Two minutes later, I was informed that my black pants—all of them—are too short. As are all my jeans. For years now, I have been showing an obscenely offensive amount of shoe. Who knew?

Kelly surveyed my closet in grim silence, then dusted off her hands and announced, “Grab your purse. We’re going shopping.”

“But it’s eleven o’clock on Sunday night,” I pointed out.

“Well, I can’t let you go out looking like this.” She gestured to the entire contents of my closet with parental disapproval. “You need new flip-flops, cute ones with little kitten heels. And your jewelry…my God, honey. What’s open on eleven o’clock on Sunday night?”

The 24-hour Wal-Mart. That’s what open at 11 pm on Sunday.
So we drove down, and in the space of twenty minutes, she’d loaded me up with velvet blazers, chunky necklaces, cute flip-flops and pants that didn’t make her cringe. She also bought some hairspray. The extra hold kind.

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s all the hairspray for?”

“I’m doing your whole look tomorrow. Hair included.”

“What about make-up?”

“That, too. I hope you like eyeliner.”

As it turns out, I do like eyeliner. I also like mixing couture originals with my new Wal-Mart pants. It is much easier to feel poised and witty on TV when an actual fashion designer has styled my sorry, work-from-home, sweatpant-wearing ass. She is even loaning me an outfit for the book party tonight. How’s that for red carpet treatment? Now all I need is paparazzi going through my trash and Joan Rivers asking, “Who are you wearing?”

I have the coolest friends, y’all.

Now all I need is a hat.

Posted by Beth at 9:36 PM | Comments (9)

Temptation

Those damn Girl Scouts with their damn cookies . . .

Last night when the doorbell rang, I braced myself for the onslaught. Sound dramatic? Well, you would do the same, if you lived in my house and every time someone tripped up the front walk, you had to deal with the Freak Out.

The Freak Out comes when my very small pug, Lulu, senses that someone, somewhere might be approaching the house (or one of our neighbors’ houses, she’s not picky), and responds with a cacophony of high pitched yaps so loud and so annoying, it leaves me twitching for a half-hour afterward.

Lulu was already in a Time Out. I was making her sit quietly in her basket, as punishment for the last Freak Out that occurred twenty minutes earlier when the guy down the street returned home from work.

(And, yes, I put my dog in Time Outs, something that my husband finds hilarious for some reason. But, really, it works. Lulu hates Time Outs. She skulks over to her basket, and lies there quietly, looking at me with sad, regretful eyes until I tell her she can get back out.)

But the door bell was more than her pea-sized brain could handle, so, just as I feared, Lulu launched out of her basket and began throwing herself at the front door, yipping and yapping and generally making a pain in the ass out of herself.

When I finally managed to shove her aside and wrench the door open, there was a wide-eyed little girl standing there, wearing a smart beret and a green sash.

“Hello! Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies,” the little girl asked brightly.

Now, being the cynical Gen-Xer that I am, I’m normally not much into religious zealotry. But even I could recognize Satan when I saw him. And he/she was here to tempt me.

See, I’m on a diet. I have just over a week to lose five pounds, and . . . it’s not going well. No, it’s not going well at all.

“Girl Scout cookies?” I repeated, my eyes shifting side-to-side, as I looked for an escape. Or maybe some Holy Water I could spritz at her when her mother wasn't looking.

The Girl Scout thrust her order form at me, showing off the pictures of her cookies.

“I have everything,” she said temptingly.

And, God help me, I looked. And there they were. The cookies. Shortbread . . . Peanut Butter Patties . . . Cartwheels . . . Thin Mints . . . oh, God, Peanut Butter Sandwiches!

I could feel my resolve slipping. She was such an earnest little girl. And such a go-getter. And, hell, I used to be a Girl Scout myself. I used to sell cookies, and knew what a drag it was. No matter how many boxes you moved, how many neighborhoods you hoofed your way through, there was always that one little girl in your troop, the one with the seedy mafia connections, who somehow managed to sell four thousand boxes and win the Top Seller award.

“I’ll take one box of Thin Mints, and two Peanut Butter Sandwiches,” I heard myself say, and, quick as you like, the little girl plucked the twenty-dollar bill from my fingers before I could change my mind.

So now I have three boxes of cookies sitting in my pantry. Satan cookies . . . tempting me . . .

Posted by Whitney at 8:52 AM | Comments (7)

January 19, 2006

BFF (Best Friends Forever)

But why?

My best friend just left. She’s been visiting for the past week from Wisconsin. She is not my only best friend (I am not actually in junior high anymore, I’m just immature), but she has had tremendous staying power (twenty-five years and counting). As always, when she leaves, I’m left saddened by the geographical distance that separates us and bemused by the fact that we’re as close as we are and have been for such a long long time despite the fact that we are nothing alike.

Okay. Not totally true. We’re about the same height which in Wisconsin had people often commenting on what good portage partners we would be. One of the differences between us is that she knew immediately that they were talking about canoes and I thought they’d said something dirty.

We both have dark hair and blue eyes and Irish first names. She, however, is actually of Irish descent. I’m some sort of genetic fluke coloring-wise and my parents were so convinced that they would not have ANOTHER girl that they’d only picked one name: Andrew. Eileen is the result of some scrambling on my parents’ part and a musical called, “My Sister, Eileen.”

On the other hand, she’s a hydrogeologist which means she can do math (I cannot) and loves science (I don’t get it) and is relentlessly logical about everything (I am so not). So logical, in fact, that I occasionally want to take her by her shoulders and shake her until she throws out her “pro” and “con” charts and goes with her heart for once. I refrain from this because she never takes me by the shoulders and shakes me until I actually think things through for once rather than leaping in heart first.

Interestingly enough, despite our different approaches, we often come to the same conclusions. For instance, we are both using the same laundry detergent right now. She’s using it because she can’t stand all the perfumes in the other detergents. I’m using it because Thing Two breaks out in a rash if the detergent isn’t perfume and dye-free. Different reasons for being there, but we’re still there at the same place.

Okay, it’s kind of a lame example, but I feel like it’s a metaphor for our friendship (and, yes, if you saw the movie ADAPTATION, you can now yell “for what?”). So, I’m curious. Are my Bestie and me typical? Is there something in the nature of friendship that has us choosing someone who is some kind of a mirror-image doppelganger? Someone that’s both like us and entirely different at the same time? How alike are you and your Bestie?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Posted by Eileen at 11:47 AM | Comments (10)

January 18, 2006

Monobrow!

So, facial hair...

This is a conversation I had with Oh Patient One the other day...

Oh Patient One (with the satisfied air of one who is organized): "I've made an appointment for Teenager #2 to have his hair cut before the new school term starts."

Me (horrified): "But. But. But he can't have his hair cut for at least another month. He'll never live it down!"

Oh Patient One (totally perplexed): "But he needs a haircut. His bangs are in his eyes and the poor guy can hardly see."

Me (patiently): "Yes - that's the whole point!"

Oh Patient One (shaking his head): "Michelle, sometimes you are a mystery to me."

Me (a bit smugly): "Yes, I know, dear. It's a woman thing - you know - part of my mystique."

Oh Patient One (grinning): "Well, Teenager #2 not having a haircut is certainly mystiqe-ful. Very intriguing. Because usually you can't stand it when his hair gets to this shaggy stage and he looks like nobody owns him. And then you nag him until he gets it cut."

Me (sniffing a bit indignantly): I never nag. I simply remind. I prompt. I encourage. But I definitely don't nag. Nope. No nagging from me.

Oh Patient One (holding up his hands in defeat, because apart from being patient he is also wise): "Okay, okay, you don't nag. You just remind and prompt and encourage. Got it. But why, on this occasion, are you not reminding/prompting/encouraging Teenager #2 to get a hair cut? Why have you suddenly become anti haircut?"

Me: "I'm not anti haircut. I'm just anti monobrow."

Oh Patient One (now really confused): "Monobrow? What on earth are you talking about?"

Me (realizing that Oh Patient One hasn't noticed): "Teenager #2, of course! Remember that party he went to on New Year's Eve at his friend's house? Well, while he was asleep one of his friends helpfully shaved off one of his eyebrows, so now he is Monobrow Man!"

Oh Patient One (stunned): "Really? God, I hadn't noticed. Why did you notice but I didn't?"

Me: "Well, it could be something to do with the fact that I am a foot shorter than you and Teenager #2, so when I look at him I am actually looking up at him and can see under his bangs. Whereas you are eye to eye with him so can't see under his bangs. Or it could just be my womanly mystique thing at work, again."

Oh Patient One (with a gleam in his eye - is he laughing at me? I think he might be, just a bit.): "Okay, no haircut for at least another month until the eyebrow has grown back. Just one thing..."

Me: "Yes, dear?"

Oh Patient One: "Well, why is he Monobrow Man rather than, you know, Unibrow Man? Because he could easily be referred to as Unibrow Man, instead."

Me (patiently): "No. Unibrow would indicate a person with one eyebrow which runs all the way over both eyes with no gap in the middle. Monobrow is definitely someone with one eyebrow over one eye. See? It's logical."

At this point Oh Patient One is rolling around the floor laughing his head off...

Oh Patient One (when he has finally stopped): "I love your logic."

Me (even more smugly): "Yes, dear, I know - it's all part of my mystique."

Michelle, apparently mysterious - and logical!

PS. Have you ever shaved off an eyebrow by mistake? Or has someone played a similar prank on you? Or have you had a disaster with eyelash/eyebrow/hair color? Come on, fess up!

Posted by Michelle at 9:02 AM | Comments (14)

January 17, 2006

And the winner is . . .

Alesia, live from the red carpet (or, you know, the brown couch

For this week, I thought I’d do a “Bad Decision Tuesday” – like the unbelievable hideousness of the decision to actually publish a book like this .

But since I’m sitting here telling Princess for the 400th time to go to bed so she’ll be vaguely human at 6:30 in the morning when we have to get up for the bus (sadly, giving coffee to a five-year-old is usually frowned upon) and watching the Golden Globe awards (and talk about Bad Decisions, doesn’t Drew Barrymore have a stylist, or, you know, FRIENDS, who could say to her, PUT ON A BRA, GIRLFRIEND??), I thought I’d ramble on in my looongwinded way about award shows.

Love ‘em. Hate ‘em. Have a sort of train-wreck-style fascination with ‘em.

Being seriously brain-dead from deadline, all I have are a few random thoughts and some questions to throw out there. Please weigh in!

Sir Anthony Hopkins is such an amazing actor – how fabulous to see him honored with the Cecil B. DeMille award. I was TERRIFIED by his character Hannibal Lecter. Seriously. Slept with the lights on for days after I saw it. I think my favorite role of his, though, was in THE REMAINS OF THE DAY . So incredibly complex and sad. And I love Emma Thompson so much, I’d probably pay to watch her act out her grocery list.

What was your favorite Hopkins movie? Who is your favorite British actor?

And speaking of villains, who do you think was the scariest movie villain of all time?

I really loved so many of the dresses this year – Sandra Oh, Felicity Huffman and Geena Davis come to mind. If you watched, which dress did you love? Which one did you hate?

In the Look How Far They’ve Come category, think about Director Extraordinaire Clint Eastwood. The man used to star in movies with a monkey. And now he’s the last word in major directorial talent. Makes me feel hopeful that I, too, one day can . . . Ah, hell. It just makes me want to go buy a monkey.

In the “movie that surprised me the most” category, WALK THE LINE with Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon. I didn’t know much about Johnny Cash’s life and wasn’t particularly interested to learn before I went, but I saw the film and was very moved by it. I thought the actors did a wonderful job of portraying such a difficult period in Mr. Cash’s life without turning it into a celebrity-addiction-of-the-week special.

What movie that you saw in 2005 surprised you the most, in either a good or bad way?

And just because I have to ask (and we KNOW what you think, Lani!), which version of PRIDE & PREJUDICE was your favorite? I hate to be a weenie and wimp out on this one, but I loved them both. Just watched (again) the Colin Firth, Jennifer Ehle version and it is spectacular, but I must admit I LOVE Matthew Macfadyen in the new one. So, please weigh in and don’t let Lani’s overt prejudice for Colin (get it? PREJUDICE? GET IT? GET IT?? Oops, sorry, still stuck on knock knock jokes) influence you one way or the other!

Finally, apropros of absolutely nothing, why does the FREAKING VOLUME of commercials jack up so much higher than the show itself? Doesn’t that tick you off??

Okay, I’ve rambled on long enough. I need to go clean off the Rovertable. He was a good dog . . .

Alesia

Posted by Alesia at 2:46 PM | Comments (8)

January 16, 2006

Knocked Up

Sanity who?

No! It's not what you think. But I gotcha, didn't I? Today's blog is not about being pregnant, which I'm NOT, thanks to a wide variety of preventative measures which include but are not limited to The Head Cold From Hell That Will Not Go Away (thanks, I named it myself), scheduling conflicts, various pharmaceutical agents (when just one isn't enough to express how very much you do NOT want to get pregnant again) and the children we already have. That last one, by the way? Veerrrrry effective. The following is a dramatic re-enactment of something that happens in my house very often.

Fish: So, I was thinking...

Me: No kidding? Really?

Fish: Maybe tonight, you and I--

We are interrupted by the girls either a) crying because someone real or imagined has touched them/stolen their favorite toy, b) jumping up from behind the couch and yelling "BOO!" then laughing hysterically at us while we attempt to suppress various nervous twitches.

Me: So, yeah. You were saying?

Fish: I hear there's a Law and Order marathon on today.

Me: Sounds good.

But, no, believe it or not, this blog isn't about getting pregnant or being pregnant. It's about knock-knock jokes.

Now, you may not have noticed, but I have a thing about humor. I love it. It makes me happy. I've tried to pass on my sense of humor to my kids, but because my humor tends to be the fast-talking, Gilmore girls kind of tommy gun rat-a-tat-tat, mostly they just stare at me, wait until I'm done, and then ask again if they can have some juice.

Then, a little more than a year ago, I got the grand idea of teaching Sweetness the following knock-knock joke:

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Boo.

Boo who?

Aw, don't cry about it! (erupts into furious giggles)

Seems pretty harmless, right? Kinda cute? You imagine a five-year-old telling this joke and it fills your heart with daisies and sunshine, right?

Now imagine it a hundred thousand times later. You see my problem.

Kid needs a new knock-knock joke. I've tried to teach her a few, but the only one that's clicked is the "Banana-Banana-Banana-Orange" joke, which will often get stuck on the "banana" setting for what feels like an ear-bleeding eternity. I almost prefer Light's variety of knock-knocks, which include naming whatever is closest to her, and ending with the punch line from "Boo." For example.

Knock-Knock.

Who's there?

Flame-thrower.

Flame-thrower who?

Aw, don't cry about it! (erupts into furious giggles)

Sidenote: I don't actually have flame-throwers in the house, but it sounded better than the things I do have around the house which she tends to pick, like "dirty sock" or "old nasty tissue under the couch." I figure, it's a blog. Gotta keep things interesting.

So, you see my dilemma. I need new knock-knock jokes, and I'm turning to you to leave 'em in the comments for me. They don't have to be good, necessarily, they just have to be new and appealing to your average preschool-kindergarten set. Or, if you have any dirty ones, you can share those, too, and Fish and I will have a good laugh. After all, that Law and Order marathon will only last so long...

Posted by Lani at 7:56 AM | Comments (11)

January 14, 2006

A series of really, REALLY unfortunate events

From Beth, trapped in slow motion

I’m always on time for the little things in life: movies, doctor’s appointments, cocktails. Especially cocktails.

It’s those big, life-altering events that give me trouble. Like the first time I met my editor in New York.

I had it all planned out in my neurotic, Type A way: I would take an early train into Manhattan from New Jersey, which would give me at least an hour to grab a cab, get to Midtown, and locate the right office building. I was hoping there’d be a coffee shop nearby so I could kick back with a cup of hot chocolate and practice my Eager Young Author smile with the extra forty-five minutes I’d have, thanks to my mad crazy planning skills.

Oh, the hubris.

I woke up early, put on my Eager Young Author ensemble (think black. Lots of black), and headed out to my car, where everything started to go catastrophically wrong. First the key would not turn in the ignition. Then the ignition refused to relinquish the key. I sat there for five minutes, yanking on the key fob, smacking the dashboard and screaming an increasingly filthy string of epithets. Lani would have been proud.

Finally, I accepted the fact that my car had betrayed me in my hour of need and called my friend Sara, who broke all posted speed limits in her attempt to get me to the train station on time. But no dice. We watched the train pull away from the station and cursed some more. Okay, deep breath, no problem; I had built a cushion into my itinerary for this very reason. I hopped the next train half an hour later. Which ended up sitting on the tracks for upwards of thirty minutes due to a “track irregularity—we appreciate your patience.” And of course, I had forgotten to program my editor’s number into my cell, so there was no way I could tell her I was delayed.

Then there was the mile-long cab line at Penn Station. And the traffic jam on Sixth Avenue. And the heel that broke on my boot. I straggled into my editor’s office forty minutes late, panting, limping, and mopping the sweat off my forehead with my coat.

“Hi,” I gasped. “I’m Beth? Your new author? Listen, do you have any ice water I could guzzle, or maybe some crazy glue for my boots? I’ve had kind of a rough morning.”

“Of course,” she said. “Just let me run over to legal and see if we can’t cancel your contract first.”

No, just kidding—she was fantastic about the whole thing. We had a great lunch and after she loaded me down with free books (the very best perk of being an author) and sent me home, I discovered that my car problems were easily solved by jostling the gear shift stick, which had somehow gotten lodged between “drive” and “neutral.”

I am not even going to tell you about the last time I went to New York to see my agent. Suffice it to say it involves a nonexistent cross street, three cab rides through Central Park, and a LOT more sweat. Apparently, I was very naughty in a past life.

Oh, and this is totally off-topic, but I’m doing a signing and a book party in Phoenix this week (see my website for details) and I would love to see you there.

I promise to be on time.

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Beth at 1:33 AM | Comments (7)

January 13, 2006

But It's Too Late Baby, Now It's Too Late

Ah, what could have been . . .

You know the saying: it’s never too late?

That’s a crock.

In fact, here’s a smattering of things that it’s too late for me to do:

Become a top-ranked tennis player.

Perform a split.

Attend one of those leafy, picturesque Northeastern prep schools.

Wear a bikini in public. (I have worn one in the past, but will never do so again, thank you stretch marks and baby fat).

Marry a Scotsman (who will wear a kilt to our wedding, but who will not insist on bagpipes being played).

Become a teen idol popstar, a la Britney.

Nope, those ships have sailed. And that’s okay. Because there’s other stuff I might get around to doing before it’s too late . . .

Like maybe I’ll actually manage to run in a half-marathon some day. Or (and I have to admit, this is less likely) even a full marathon. Maybe I’ll someday fulfill my dreams of having a house on the beach, or living in London. Maybe I’ll get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. Maybe one of my books will make the New York Times bestseller list (this would help enormously with the aforementioned beach house and townhouse in London). Maybe I’ll get to meet my grandchildren, or even my great-grandchildren.

And, hell, as long as I’m dreaming, maybe I’ll learn how to stop my dog from barking at every squirrel that scampers across the street. Or maybe I’ll invent a self-changing diaper. Or an all-brownie diet. Or a car that solves all of my problems, like Kitt in Knight Rider.

Or, you know what would be a really cool thing to invent? A robot maid, like the one that the Jetsons had. What was her name? Rosie? I mean, what’s the point of all of this technology, if we can’t put it to work cleaning our homes?

So I guess it isn’t too late to do all sorts of cool stuff. I’m just not going to be doing any of it in a bikini.

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Whitney at 8:16 AM | Comments (8)

January 12, 2006

Being late . . .

. . . and early at the same time.!

The first thing I think of when I think of being late is when I looked at my husband of approximately two months and said, “Honey, I’m late. I’m thinking that maybe this barfing in the morning thing might have to do with something other than bad Mexican food from the new place on Halsted.”

It’s not like we weren’t planning on having children. It’s just that we had been hoping to be married for more than a nano-second before we began procreating. We’d been hoping to maybe go on a honeymoon, for instance. I’d just started a new job and it had been hard enough to get time off for the wedding, much less an extended honeymoon right afterward. Oh, and if you think telling your husband you’re knocked up when you weren’t planning on it, try telling your boss of three months.

So Thing One was born a year or so before we’d planned on producing a Thing One. We adjusted. Then when Thing One was about a year old, we moved to Arizona. Whew! We congratulated ourselves on having the baby while I still had the bodacious health insurance from my job rather than the not quite so fabulous insurance my husband had at the time.

So, being late and early ended up being a good thing.

Then a few months after that, I said to my husband, “Honey, I’m late. I’m thinking that maybe this barfing in the morning thing might have to do with something other than that virus that is going around.”

It’s not like we weren’t planning on having another child. It’s just that we had been hoping to wait another year or so. Once again, we adjusted and Thing Two made his appearance in the world a little early as well.

Then on June 14, 1998, my husband had a seizure that landed him in the emergency room. Within a few weeks, he had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. He died on July 20, 1999.

Now, if I hadn’t been late and the kids hadn’t been early, they each would have had one less precious year with their Dad. He was a great guy and he loved them like crazy and taking even one more second from him or them would have been a crime.

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Eileen at 12:11 PM | Comments (14)

January 11, 2006

The unbearable lateness of being

Late for the gym!

So I was sorting through my closet this morning (yes, I’m on serious deadline, of course I’m cleaning out closets), and I realized I have three different wardrobes. Or, put another way, one wardrobe, divided into three different sizes.

This is SO not good.

It’s a relatively recent development for me, since I was always, from the time I hit age 18 or so, pretty much the same size. Let me add that I’m nearly six feet tall, before you hate me, plus I liked to exercise, so it wasn’t too hard to stay slender. I ran, went to the gym, took fencing lessons for a while, hiked, biked, etc. etc. etc.

Now? I sit. And sit. And sit.

Also not good. So I have what I think of as my “real” clothes, which are the clothes I wore pre-pregnancy and am convinced every year I’m going to fit back into any minute. (These are now more than 9 years old, so let’s not even discuss trendiness.) They’re in a couple of plastic bins in the back of my closet.

Then there are the second set, which I got back into after each baby, by getting back into my exercise routine. Thirty minutes on the torture device used by the Spanish Inquisition aka the Stairmaster. Running. Various dalliances with personal trainers and free weights.

Then there are the clothes I had to buy after two years of sitting on my ever-expanding butt being a full-time writer. Cause? The forementioned sitting. Because, somehow, in the press of deadlines and stress and kids and moving, I kept putting taking care of myself at the bottom of the list.

So (oooh, actual theme tie-in here), this is a verrrrry looooong way to say that I’m late for putting my health first. And with the health history in my family, I need to get cracking.

But although I’m firmly opposed to New Year’s resolutions (at least for myself) as setting me up for a big F as in Failure, I am definitely in favor of new starts and getting healthy. So the enormondo gift certificate for an ENTIRE DAY at the spa, lunch and all, that Navy Guy so wonderfully gave me for Christmas? It’s hanging over my mirror as incentive. Incentive to take time for me to prepare and eat healthy food, incentive for me to get my now-shrinking butt to the gym.

And those ten-year-old-clothes? They’re going to GoodWill. Shoulder pads may come back, it’s true, but I just hope I don’t live to see it. Does anybody else have this 3-different-wardrobe problem??

Hugs,
Alesia (Oops! I have to go! I’m late for the gym!)

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Alesia at 10:10 AM | Comments (17)

January 10, 2006

I'm Late, I'm Late...

From Michelle, The Rotterdam White Rabbit

You know, I really am anal about being late. I never mind if someone else is late, but I hate it, I absolutely hate it if it's me, because I always start out with such great intentions, and then I'm ususally late, anyway, so "someone else" is already there at the appointed time waiting for yours truly.

But there's one thing for which I always plan on being late and that is...

... the cinema.

See, I get really impatient when I have to sit through ad after ad after ad for oh, cars and laundry detergent and toilet paper and stuff, so I usually plan to arrive just after the boring ads, and in time for the movie trailers, so I can see what great movies Coming Soon To A Theater Near You are coming soon to a theater near me.

So, on Sunday, Teenager No #1, Teenager No #2 and I went (finally!) to see the new Harry Potter movie. And yes, we timed it perfectly, because the boring ads were done and now for the movie trailers, yay!

Picture this: There is this young English guy on screen. He tells us that he is a new movie director, and his very first movie (about which he is very excited) features a frustrated wannabe mom-to-be who hijacks a sperm donor clinic.

Yes. You read that right.

Anyway, Young English Director proceeds to show us around the actual clinic he used to make the movie. We see reception, we see the private rooms where the donors, you know, make their donations, we see the magazines and videos they use to get inspired, and we see the jars they use to contain all that inspiration.

And then Young English Director goes on to thank all the male sperm donors who masturbated into jars, because the movie couldn't have been made without them.

At this point I am wondering if we are somehow in the wrong movie theater, because there are lot of kids in the theater, and I am also fairly happy that Teenager #1 and Teenager #2 are beyond the age when they would ask difficult questions very loudly in public, like, "Mum, what does masturbation mean?"

Anyway, turns out it was an ad for the Rotterdam Film Festival.

I nearly fell off my chair laughing.

And If you have any weird, peculiar ad stories, I would love to hear them!

Michelle

PS. Harry Potter was brilliant and I am going to see it again at the weekend with Oh Patient One. Can't wait to see if they have any more masturbation trailers, LOL. Or maybe they will show the TV ad which features a very attractive young woman discussing her bowel movements, and how much more regular she's been since eating a certain type of yoghurt.

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Michelle at 9:29 AM | Comments (10)

January 9, 2006

Punctuality is for Wimps

Sometimes being late is rude, and sometimes it's an art form.

With rare and sporadic exceptions, I haven't been on time for anything since the first time I had a late period with consequences. I used to be compulsively punctual. If you had a coffee date with me at ten in the morning, I was there at exactly 9:55. Unless I was caught behind a funeral procession, a serious accident, or somebody's grandmother, I was early.

Then, I had my first daughter, and time went from old friend to despised enemy. When I started to venture out again after first having Sweetness, a friend who had also recently had a baby asked me to meet her and her daughter at the park between our houses.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes!" I said energetically, so excited to be getting out of the freakin' house.

"Um. Sure," she said supportively. She knew the truth, but didn't laugh, mock or snark. As you can probably tell by the company I keep on this blog, I've had great fortune in choosing my friends.

I hung up the phone, and got started assembling the various flotsam and jetsam that are required to take a baby anywhere. It was an experience. Let me just say that there are missile strikes that require less coordination than this outing did.

Okay. Car seat out of the car, into the stroller. Baby's crying, must feed baby, quickly quickly. Not going quickly. Okay, I'll just pack the diaper bag with the baby on the boob- OW! Okay, okay, baby doesn't like being jostled, I'll just... okay, she's done. In the playpen. Diapers, diaper cream, two blankets, toys, extra outfits just-in-case, wipes for the inevitable spit-up speed and distance event, pacifiers (even though she never takes them, a mother can dream) and OKAY! We're ready to go! Get the baby out of the playpen and OH MY GOD HOW IS IT POSSIBLE FOR A SWEET LITTLE GIRL TO SHOOT SO MUCH OUT OF ONE TINY LITTLE ORIFICE? All right, all right, diaper change, quick spritz under a shower spray OH MAN THAT'S NASTY, baby powder, change of clothes, I really like this outfit better anyway, snap her in the stroller while I quickly get all this stuff into the washer, check myself out quickly in the mirror before OH GOD PLEASE TELL ME THAT STUFF ON MY SHIRT ISN'T WHAT I THINK IT IS! It is. Okay, okay, quick change...

Well. You get the idea. When I showed up thirty-eight minutes late, my friend didn't say a word.

She's a really good friend.

Six years later and I've still never made it anywhere in twenty minutes. As a matter of fact, as much as possible, I try not to even commit to dates and times. It's usually, "Hey, if you're at the mall on Wednesday sometime that might vaguely be mistaken for morning, perhaps we might see each other." When I do make a time commitment, I make the date at least a week ahead of time, put a reminder in my computer to pop up the night before and an hour prior on the day, and then? I just pray. But I find that lowered expectations make a big difference. My good friend CJ Barry and I have regular coffee dates, once or twice a month, and she only raises an eyebrow when I'm on time. Even then, she does it subtly, and without judgment.

She's got kids, too.

This blog was brought to you by Beth's latest release, Fashionably Late, a story about love, family, fashion... and what a difference it can make if you're just willing to rip out a seam or two.

Posted by Lani at 7:15 AM | Comments (21)

January 6, 2006

Inside the Actor's Author's Studio

Because inquiring minds want to know...

She’s bold. She's beautiful. She writes 38 books a year (approximately.)

She’s Alesia Holliday, and as a former trial lawyer, she’s not afraid to take on the tough questions. Which is good, because I’m totally about to ask her some.

You may know her only as the uber-cool, bestselling, double RITA finalist, but she’s so much more than that! Beneath that flashy exterior lies a sensitive soul--a soul that craves sunsets, softly falling rain, quiet strolls on the beach…and swarthy Navy SEALs. My kind of woman.

Which one of your book/novella heroes would you most like to date?

This is impossible to answer with only one name, because I fall madly in lust/love with each of them as I write their stories. I was crazy for Sam in American Idle (and Carlos, who was “only” a secondary character, but try telling HIM that), nuts about both Jamie and Banning in Nice Girls Finish First, definitely hot for Luke in A Publicist and a Pear Tree, and oh, hallelujah and somebody call the hot tinglies patrol, but the hunky Navy SEAL turned PI Jake Brody in my upcoming December Vaughn mystery series is a Bad Boy who makes me shiver. (Let’s not even get started on the dark, tortured Atlantaens in my upcoming paranormal series – those are preternatural tinglies!!)

Which one TV show will you never get over being cancelled?

Firefly. It was brilliantly written and deserved so much more of a chance. I’m a Joss Whedon geek – what can I say?

Think back to your earliest childhood crush. Who was he, what’d you like about him, and what do you think he’s like as an adult?

There were two adorable teen hotties – Mike Brooks and Seth Bland, in eighth grade (I was a slow starter!) and I modeled the two lead guys in my teen series after them. (If you’re out there, Mike and Seth, see the impression you made!) We lived in Izmir, Turkey, and attended the American school there. Mike was a swimming champ, and Seth and I were the math geeks – we would actually compete over geometry theorems. (This says a lot about my sad, sad high school experience as “the brain,” unfortunately.) I imagine that today they are both wildly successful and probably married to supermodels.

If you had to pick a book setting to live in (yours or any other author’s), which would it be and why?

Ooooh, I’d like to “try out” a dozen or more!! But right now, since it’s on my mind, probably my setting for Atlantis Risen. It’s just like our reality today, except demons and shapeshifters are taking over the world, and the long-secret Warriors of Poseidon have finally returned to fulfill their vow to protect mankind. I can totally see myself as a rebel freedom fighter kicking some demon butt!!

What is your secret irrational fear?

Well, if I told, it wouldn’t be secret. Plus, it’s wildly irrational, which would frighten people and make them question my sanity, and I’m trying to cut down on that sort of thing for 2006. But my not-so-secret irrational fear is that meteorites will hit my house.

Rumor has it that 2006’s going to be a real barn-burner for you, publishing-wise. Give us a few hints about what’s in the works.

I’m so excited about this year!! In addition to my next chick lit novel, Seven Ways to Lose Your Lover, due out in July, my mystery series I mentioned above is launching in March with Blondes Have More Felons. Attorney December Vaughn has moved from big-city corporate law to small-town solo practice in Florida, and she finds herself the target of fiendish plots and inept criminals. Not to mention the giant reptiles!! I had a blast writing Blondes and am looking forward to finishing the second mystery, which will be released in October.

Finally, the Atlantis series launches in early 2007, so the work on those books is in progress. I’m writing those under the pen name Alyssa Day, which is very freeing, because I can blame “her” for everything. “Oh, really? You think that love scene was really hot and sexy? Oh, that Alyssa is such a wild one!!” hee hee.

Oh, and how could I forget to mention the best part? The new Literary Chicks is going to be so much fun with you and Eileen and Whitney joining in!! Thanks for the interview and I can’t WAIT to dive into Fashionably Late!

Posted by Beth at 9:28 PM | Comments (12)

January 5, 2006

Michelle, My Belle

Hi everyone!!!

Am I really here?!?

How excited am I to be a Literary Chick? SO excited! (Can you tell I spend most of my time hanging out with a 2-year old?)

And for my fun first assignment, I got to interview Michelle Cunnah, who I’m so jealous of for the following reasons:

(1) Have you seen her hair? My hair has never looked that cute. Never. I covet her hair.

(2) Michelle lives this fabulously sophisticated jet-setting life, hopping from one country to the next. She’s lived in England, Africa, America and the Netherlands. Whereas the only globe trotting I do is through the Epcot Center in Disney World.

(3) Her accent. True, I’ve never actually had a real life conversation with Michelle, but she’s English, so I just know she has one of those to-die-for accents. I want one. But, you know, not in a fake Maddona sort of way.

And speaking of Madonna, her name came up once or twice during my chat with Michelle . . .

Whitney: Plan your fantasy dinner party . . . what three people (living or dead, fictional or real) would you most like to dine with? What would you eat?

Michelle: I bet you're expecting me to say my fave Led Zeppelin gods-among-men Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Bonham (may he rest in peace) and John Paul Jones, but I definitely wouldn't invite them to dinner because I'd be so star struck and frozen to the spot that I'd not be able to eat or say a thing (even though it would be wonderful to be close enough to "Bob" that I could almost touch his lovely blond hair!)

But apart from the boys, it would have to be Madonna and Oprah. I totally admire those two ladies for what they have achieved in their lives, and let's face it, between Madonna and Oprah they could probably solve all of the world's problems if we put them in charge.

As to what we would eat - sushi, sushi, sushi all the way, baby, because I recently had my first ever sushi in Manhattan and now I am a total addict (especially love California rolls)!

Whitney: What's your ultimate fantasy day, when time, money and space travel are not at issue?

Michelle: My perfect day would involve breakfast in London with Madonna (and Guy), lunch in America with Oprah, and dinner with my Led Zeppelin gods-among-men wherever they might happen to be in the world. (And I'd be so witty and charming and non-nervous that they would fall totally in love with me, obviously!)

Whitney: Where is your favorite place to write?

Michelle: In my office, alone (alone except, of course, for my Led Zeppelin CDs).

Whitney: What are you wearing right now?

Michelle: A gorgeous Donna Karan dress, Jimmy Choo strappy sandals, and my hair and makeup are perfect. Okay, so I lied. Really I'm wearing dark pink pajamas with sheep all over them, and big, fuzzy slippers with cloud motifs...

Whitney: What's your favorite book of all time?

Michelle: Ooo, that's too hard because I have so many of them (I live with at least a thousand books, although they might have bred since I last checked). But if I had to name one book that I was totally addicted to right now, it would be How I Live Now, by Meg Rosoff.

Whitney: If you weren't a writer, what would your ultimate
dream job be?

Michelle: I can't imagine not being a writer, but I guess I'd be
either Madonna or Oprah :-)

Posted by Whitney at 10:06 PM | Comments (6)

It is soooo great to be here . . .

Sittin’ at the cool girls’ table at last!

When Alesia, Lani and Michelle asked me to be part of the Literary Chicks, I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven. It’s a little embarrassing, but I have kind of a crush on these three. Not in a girl-on-girl way. More in a “wow, I wanna be like you when I grow up” way (which will be a little tricky since I think I’m older than all three of them, but you know what I mean).

All three of them are tremendously talented writers, but they are also fabulous people: funny, charming, seriously generous with their time and expertise and absolutely taking no prisoners as they go for what they want. It’s girl power all growed up in all the right ways.

Here are my questions for Lani, whom I’ve always admired for her sharp wit, her darling smile and her willingness to tell someone to bite her when they deserve it.

1. What is your favorite snack food (preferably the one that is so disgusting that you won't let yourself have it very often) and why?

My favorite snack food is soooooo bad for me (high cholesterol, damn genetics) but it's a total foodgasm, so if it shaves a few minutes off the lifespan, it just might be worth it. It's Dubliner cheese on Wheat Thins with chardonnay. I know - it sounds really snooty. I should say Cheez Doodles or Cherry Garcia (neither of which would I turn down should they be offered, hint hint) but if I had to pick an absolute favorite, it's the Dubliner. It's an Irish variation on the stinky cheese thing, and I wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot-pole in my younger years, but it's sooooo very yummy on Wheat Thins. Mmmm... think I'm gonna have to make a run to the
store...

2. What phrase are you most likely to mutter under your breath when you've dropped something heavy on your toe?

Oh, thanks a load, Rendahl. If there was any chance of concealing my total lack of class, it's blown now. ;) Which is okay, because anyone who hangs out with me long enough eventually finds out that the only person on the planet who is less couth than me is probably Tom Arnold. Even then, it's a close race. So, Dear Readers, if any of you have sensitivities to bad language, you may want to skim on down to the next question, because this ain't gonna be purty.

Godamn fucking piece of shit fuck.

And typically, it's not under my breath. I'm actually shocked that my children have never repeated it. Which is funny, because people who never swear, their kids are the ones who wait for a quiet moment in mass to yell out, "SHIT! I DROPPED MY FUCKING DOLL!" and my kids? Speak with the voices - and vocabularies - of angels. Life just isn't fair sometimes, but I'm not complaining, because in this instance it's working for me.

3. Where are you in the birth order of your family? Do you like it there?

I've got a weird thing going on. Technically, I'm second. I have an older brother. But he and I despised each other to such a degree that we didn't really interact, so I also really identify with only children as well. And I kinda liked it. I had my own space growing up. Now, though, I'm married into a family with ten children - my youngest sibling-in-law will be turning 10 in February - and I love having all the grown up siblings. So I'd say I got the best of both worlds, really.

4. Is there a book that you read or a movie that you saw at the exact right time in your life than inspired you to make a decision or a big change? What was the book or movie? Did the decision/change work out well?

There have been quite a few, but I the one with the biggest direct impact on my life was Jennifer Crusie's FAKING IT. This was back way before I'd ever met her, I just happened to pick up the book right after finishing the rough draft of TIME OFF FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR. It was Christmastime, and I sat by my tree with the fire blazing and read it from cover to cover and thought, "Man, I have to try this." So I took my completed rough draft, and made a resolution to dedicate 2003 to getting published. It worked out pretty well for me - I have a total of eight books either published or on contract, and so far, so good. I've since become friendly with Jenny, and she signed my copy of FAKING IT for me in 2004. It's one of my most treasured possessions.

5. What CD is in the player in your car right now?

It's a Christmas CD I made out of my favorite Christmas songs when I was getting started on THE COMEBACK KISS, which was originally going to be set at Christmastime until I realized that unless the Christmas thing is your hook, it's really best to leave alone. The CD starts off with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong singing "Baby, It's Cold Outside" and ends with Joni Mitchell singing "River" and I freakin' love it.

See! That's my Lani! Isn't she fabulous? She's got everything. Stinky cheese, great music and a potty mouth beyond compare. No wonder I want to grow up to be her. Or grow down. Or whatever.

Posted by Eileen at 11:00 AM | Comments (21)

January 3, 2006

Introducing Beth Kendrick!!

I'm just happy to be here!

I am thrilled to announce that it is my privilege to introduce the third of our lovely new Literary Chicks, Beth Kendrick!! Beth and I gave a talk last year at a major national convention, so I happen to have up-close-and-personal knowledge that she’s just as disorganized and last-minute as I am! I LOVE that in a person!!!

Beth burst onto the scene with MY FAVORITE MISTAKE (also known as “the butt book” because, well, just look at the cover. Seriously. She has some butt going on in the FASHIONABLY LATE (which is gorgeous) cover, too, which is ironic, considering in real life, Beth is one of those slender women who has no actual butt. Go figure! But we can’t hate her, because she’s just so damn fun.

She followed MFM with EXES AND OHS (no butt) and many raves and oohs and ahhs from everyone who read it!! Finally, in bookstores right AT THIS VERY MINUTE, her new book FASHIONABLY LATE is ready to steal your heart. So let’s hear from the divine Ms. K:

Q. Since we're friends, I happen to know that you're secretly "Dr. Beth." How does having a PhD in psychology influence your writing?

A. Well, for one thing, I have a pretty good understanding of just how nuts I truly am, which is pretty much par for the course for writers. (Work WITH the voices in your head, not against them!) My background is actually in developmental psych, which probably explains why I love books about family and romantic relationships. I’m fascinated by the ways that early childhood experiences shape our perspective and behavior as adults.

Q. What was the most fattening food you ate over the holidays, and in what quantity?

A. Hmm. This is hard-won title with many, many worthy competitors in the running. I went a little crazy this year. But I would have to say, in an ounce-for-ounce comparison of calories to actual nutritional value, the most fattening treat was my famous chocolate cranberry cheesecake. I make it every year for Christmas and the recipe would reduce any nutritionist to a babbling, teary-eyed mess.

Q. LOVE your website!! Tell us about your dogs.

A. I actually have two websites these days. There’s my Beth Kendrick site and then there’s my newly-launched, brand spankin’ new site for Beth Killian, my alter ego. My dogs are featured prominently on both sites, as I am obsessed with them. (My dogs, not the sites.)

There’s Murphy, the scruffy blonde terrier mix with a Napoleon complex we adopted in Los Angeles, only to find out he had a broken hip. (He’s since had surgery, physical therapy and endless mollycoddling to make up for his hard puppyhood on the streets of South Central.) Then there’s Roxie Hart (yes, we name our dogs after cabaret-signing murderesses), the red, perky-eared mutt—we’re not sure what breeds she might be; feel free to email me at beth (at) bethkendrick.com if you have guesses. And we just got our first foster dog, Friday. I use the term “foster” loosely, as I’m pretty sure he’s going to be a permanent addition to the family.

Yes, it’s true: Beth Kendrick will soon spiral into madness, a la those glassy-eyed animal hoarders you see on “Oprah.”

Q. Your new novel is called “Fashionably Late” Care to confess your own crimes of fashion?

A. Well, as a character in the novel says, “If looking frumpy were a felony, you’d be on death row.” I’ve committed some pretty egregious offenses over the years: the acid washed, peg-rolled Guess! jeans (accessorized with layered scrunchy socks, of course)…the black leather biker jacket I thought I could get away with but actually could not…oh, and let’s not forget the obscenely short, fuzzy, leopard print miniskirt I wore to my Shakespeare 101 final in college. Yes, I said fuzzy.

There were also some truly unfortunate hairspray-and-crimping-iron tragedies circa eighth grade, but thankfully, I’ve blocked those out.


Q. You also write chick lit for teens, and have an intriguing new series coming out in 2006. Tell us a little about it!

A. If you like drama, scandal, and zingy one-liners, you are going to love this series. It’s called “The 310” (which is the hip and happening area code in West Los Angeles), and it gives us a glimpse into the turbulent lives of three teenage aspiring actresses who have been accepted as clients by the hottest talent agency in town. For more info, see my 310 website: wwwbethkilian.com. While the series is marketed toward teens, I think my adult readers will enjoy it, too. It is by far the juiciest thing I’ve ever written. Kind of like “90210” meets “Gossip Girl.” Meets “Clueless.” Meets “E! True Hollywood Story.” Meets everything else exciting and funny and good you can possibly think of. Like chocolate cake for your brain. (Can you tell I love this series?)

Q. When the Literary Chicks take our group trip to Las Vegas, will you be a big gambler or more of a "see the sights" kind of girl?

A. I have horrible luck at games of chance (even Uno and Go Fish), so I will be hanging out at the craps table, getting vicarious thrills watching other people bet their retirement funds, cadging free drinks, and wishing that I could, just for a day, swap lives with a showgirl. I adore sequins and feather boas.

So there you have it – from Beth, the Literary Chick most likely to look GREAT in sequins and feathers!!

Hugs,
Alesia

Posted by Alesia at 11:18 PM | Comments (15)

January 2, 2006

And Here We Have...

From Michelle, completely in awe...

..My God, I still don't believe it, yet, but we have, we really, really have...

Whitney Gaskell!

Now, there's a bit of a story here. In 2003, there I was in Barnes & Noble, casually minding my own business, and all of a sudden this book leaped out at me from the front table where they have all the women's fiction, and I simply couldn't ignore it.

It was Pushing 30 by Whitney Gaskell, and I completely loved the cover because of the thirty-somthing woman being buried by a giant birthday cake. And I picked it up, and I snook off to a comfy corner, and then I read the first chapter, and I totally fell in love with Ellie Winters, and I was HOOKED!

And I'm still hooked, and True Love and Other Lies, and She, Myself, I, later, I'm more hooked than ever!

So, was completely delighted when Whitney agreed to join our mad, Literary Chicks crowd! And even more delighted when I asked her some weird Literary Chick questions and got some great answers. And here they are...

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island with only Wilson, the football with a face, to keep you company, but were allowed to take one book, one CD and one DVD with you, which ones would they be and why?

A. Book – I know I’m supposed to say something deep and meaningful, like War and Peace, but honestly? I’d take Outlander by Diana Gabaldon. Mmmm, that Jamie Fraser . . . I never get tired of him . . .

(Michelle interjects: Jaime!)

DVD – That’s an easy one! The Colin Firth version of Pride & Prejudice. It’s the one movie I can watch over and over and over again, and never tire of.

(Michelle interjects: aahh, you and me both, gal! 'Specially that wet shirt scene...Lani and I are in total harmony...)

CD – Time Out by The Dave Brubeck Quartet, so that I’d have the grooviest pad on the island. It’s martini time!

(Michelle interjects: Martini Time! Yay!)

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island and were allowed someone other than football Wilson to keep you company, who would it be and why?

A. My husband, because he’s very handy – think MacGyver, only cuter – and he’s nice to snuggle up to.

(Michelle interjects: OhMyGod, I love him, already!)

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island and were allowed one additional foodgroup apart from coconuts and raw fish, which would it be and why?

A. Chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate! I’m starting to like the sound of this dessert island . . .

(Michelle interjects - ah, now why do I like dessert island better than desert island? Heh...)

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island and were allowed one personal grooming item (makeup, clothes, hair straighteners, anything powered by electricity) which would it be and why?

A. My contact lenses, so that I could see Colin Firth when I watched Pride & Prejudice.

(Michelle interjects yet again: Oh, we are completely of one mind when it comes to Lovely Colin. Lani, you there, gal?

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island and were allowed to be ET for a moment (i.e., phone home) who would you call and why?

A. My mother. I’d grouse to her about how my husband wasn’t taking any of my suggestions when it came to building our new hut, and she’d fill me in on all of the latest gossip.

(Michelle interjects: we really need to introduce you to my mother and my mother-in-law! They really do know the best gossip!)

Q. If you were castaway on a desert island and were rescued, who would you want your rescuer to be and why?

A. I wouldn’t need one. My husband and I would be missing our son so much, that together we’d build a raft and sail back home to him.

Let's build that raft together!

Michelle, a bit star struck...

Posted by Michelle at 3:09 PM | Comments (5)

Introducing... Eileen Rendahl!

Combining coffee, tattoos and Antonio Banderas to serve you better. Don't thank us now. It's our pleasure.

As part of our launch week for the new and improved LiteraryChicks.com, we're doing a series of cross-interviewing so y'all will have a chance to get to know our newest Chicks, and to find out a little more about those of us who've been here for a while. We get to ask each other ANY FIVE QUESTIONS WE CHOOSE. Yeah, baby... So let's get started, shall we?

It is my incredible pleasure to get to introduce you guys to the lovely and talented Eileen Rendahl, whom I adore with every little itty bit of my being. Not only is she a fabulous writer, but she's probably one of the sweetest people I will ever meet in my life. I just finished her most recent book, Balancing in High Heels, and I'm here to tell you - I LOVED it! Part of the story revolved around the Butterfly Brigade, a group of lingerie-clad, butterfly-tattooed women who go about righting wrongs, vigilante-style. It's a great, great book. If you've read it, or any of Eileen's books, feel free to leave comments for her here on this blog, and if you haven't read any of Eileen's books, get thee to Amazon, sweets!

Now, for the 5 Questions I got to ask Eileen...

LDR: What are your addictions?

ER: Coffee, coffee, coffee. And have I mentioned that I like coffee? I am on my fourth espresso machine in six years. This time we splurged on one that is almost all stainless steel after the last one's little plastic doohickey exploded and shot hot steam across the kitchen, nearly scalding both my fiance (whom I shall christen Cowboy for all future blogs) and one of the cats. Luckily both of them have excellent reflexes.

And running. In "Empire Falls", Richard Russo says that everyone should fall in love with doing something they're bad at because it keeps them humble. Running keeps me very very humble. I suck at it. I'm slow. My stride is terrible. I never get any better at it. I started doing it as a weight control thing and it has clearly not worked and yet still I'm out there three, four, five times a week, pounding around. If miss two days in a row, I get cranky.

LDR: What's your favorite place to be and why?

ER: San Carlos Beach at the Breakwater in Monterey, CA. We have had so many wonderful days there with my children (heretofore to be known as Things One and Two) playing in the sand and the surf and the tide pools while Cowboy scuba dives and I watch the waves and the kids and read. I love the ocean. I love fighting the seagulls to keep them out of my potato chips and having sand everywhere and my hair being so wind-whipped that it looks like it's been styled with an egg beater. I just love it. Seriously.

If I can't be there, I want to be on the couch in my living room with my family snuggled under a blanket watching movies. Some popcorn and a little red wine wouldn't be turned down.

LDR: If you could pull a Butterfly Brigade, what would you do?

ER: My, oh my, do I ever have a list.

Let's see. I would do something about the people who arrange the clothing displays at stores and make the aisles too narrow for me to get my mother's wheelchair through them. Dangling a clearance sign in front of my mother and then making it impossible for her to get to that rack may be one of the cruelest things you could do to that woman. She'd rather die than pay retail.

Then I'd tackle my local school district who sees fit to let the first through third graders out at two-thirty in the afternoon and the fourth through six graders out at three so that if you have two kids, you have a half hour in your totally maxed out day where you can do NOTHING. We might have to kidnap them for a half an hour each day and lock them in a closet. Of course, all the elementary school kids get out at one-thirty on Wednesdays which is great until you have a junior high student, too, and that one doesn't have to be at school until nine-thirty on Wednesday making Wednesday a completely pointless day in your schedule where you're lucky if you can even get to the grocery store so maybe those folks have to spend Wednesday in the closet, too.

Oh, and that guy at the post office who wouldn't get out of the doorway so I could leave so the next person in line could be helped? I totally want to duct tape him to the door frame.

LDR: What's your favorite word and why?

ER: Oooh. I think it might be 'penultimate'. Or maybe it would be 'eponymous'. I didn't learn those words until I was an adult and was blown away by the fact that there were actual specific words for those things. Plus, penultimate has all kinds of associations with reading poetry in college for me in a way that was wildly self-indulgent and pseudo-intellectual and great fun. I had kind of a Mallarme thing for a while.

LDR: If you had the opportunity to kiss any man without it having any impact on a current relationship, who would it be and why?

ER: Antonio Banderas. Wait. No. Maybe it would be Keanu Reeves. No. It's Antonio. Definitely Antonio. Just a second. Can I change to John Stamos? No. Don't let me do that. I'm sticking with Antonio.


So, there you have it, a little more insight into Eileen Rendahl's Antonio Banderas-lovin' soul. Got questions for Eileen? Leave 'em here in the comments! And be sure to come back on Thursday, January 5th for Eileen's inaugural blog in which she interviews me!

Posted by Lani at 6:00 AM | Comments (19)

January 1, 2006

Surprise!

Well hello and happy 2006! We hope everyone had either the raucous night of I'm-too-old-for-this-partying or the quiet, Parcheesi-and-wine kind of new year experience - whatever makes easing into a new year good for you. As for us, we're doing raucous partying because not only do we have swank new digs, but...

... drum roll, please...

... we're launching this year with not one, not two, but three, yes count 'em three new Literary Chicks! Please give a big welcome to Eileen Rendahl, Whitney Gaskell, and Beth Kendrick! We're so excited to have them here that if we were chihuahuas, our owners would be cursing and breaking out the mops. Seriously.

So, without further ado, let's introduce you to the new chicks!

Eileen Rendahl hit the chick lit scene running with her fabulous genre debut of the dual RITA-nominated Do Me, Do My Roots. You wouldn't think a story about a woman coming to terms with the death of her husband would be a funny as well as heartwarming read, but you'd be wrong. Eileen followed up in 2005 with Balancing in High Heels, another story riding the line between serious and funny with the story of Alissa Lindley, a lawyer whose anger issues after being betrayed by her husband send her packing for home, where life in the bosom of her family becomes a little... well... suffocating. Y'all know family bosoms. In addition to being a fabulous writer, Eileen is also one of the top 10 most adorable people on the planet. Alesia, Michelle and Lani have known her for a while from various online loops and writer's conferences, and we're all crazy about her. We're so very excited that she accepted our invitation to join us! You guys are going to LOVE her, if you don't already!

Whitney Gaskell's hilarious and engaging 2003 debut novel, Pushing 30, is what got her into this mess. Lani read it in 2004, fell in love with it, and e-mailed Whitney to rave like a maniac. Whitney very graciously e-mailed back, and over the course of what certainly seemed to Whitney like endless chit-chat, they discovered that they both went to Syracuse University at the same time. So that was it. After Lani raved about Whitney to Alesia and Michelle, we all invited her to be a guest, and the rest was history. And even if her books weren't great (which they are - you're missing out if you haven't read them all) her fun, irreverent and cheeky blog would have won us all over eventually anyway. Whitney followed up the critically acclaimed Pushing 30 with 2004's True Love (And Other Lies), a Romantic Times Top Pick about a woman who inadvertently steals her best friend's boyfriend while on a flight to London. Lani loved it, and then got the chance to read an advance copy of Whitney's fabulous 2005 release She, Myself & I, a book about three very different sisters who manage to co-exist within the same crazy family. We're all three so excited to welcome Whitney to the group!

Beth Kendrick is one of those people you really want to hate because she's drop-dead gorgeous and smart and a great writer, but she's so damn nice it's just impossible not to adore her. Beth's debut, My Favorite Mistake, came out to rave reviews and much cover jealousy from some authors who will remain unnamed. (:::cough::: Lani :::cough:::) A great book about a woman who goes home against her will only to find that the ghost of her past got even sexier in the years they were apart, it's a must read for anyone who loves chick lit. Beth followed this up in 2005 with the Romantic Times's Top Pick Exes and Ohs, a funny story about the exes you just can't escape. The very, very good news is that Beth's new release, Fashionably Late, is coming out on January 3rd to more critical acclaim and much, much, MUCH cover envy. We can't wait to read it and we're so thrilled to have Beth with us!

But, of course, it wouldn't be Literary Chicks if there wasn't a tremendous GIVEAWAY!!! And be sure to tell your friends, because this is a BIG 'UN. We're giving away...

(is it too obnoxious to ask for another drum roll?)