Oh, my goodness. It truly was one of those “across the crowded room” moments that singers sing about. But the truth of it was…Tim had been High School Football Team Captain and Boyfriend of the Head Cheeleader/Homecoming Queen, and I had been an honor-roll dork who edited the yearbook. True, four years had passed since graduation. College had been good to me, but the dork-factor is a hard one to lose. And Tim was already one smokin‘ fireman…
It was a mini-reunion Christmas party when our eyes met across the pool table. Actually, I was semi-comotose on a couch. Not alcohol; I was recovering from a cute little bout of pneumonia. Right then he came over to sit beside me. Fate. Karma. Serendipity. God’s will. What ever you call it, and I knew I needed to see him again. And again. Since these were the days when dinosaurs walked the earth and “nice girls” didn’t ask guys out other than to be your plus-one at your cousin’s wedding, I had to quickly concoct something to ensure future contact. And so I did. I announced to everybody present that the next bash was to be on New Years Eve at my apartment. Tim agreed to be there. With a sigh of relief, I contented myself that I’d see him again in just ten days.
But he woke me up the next morning, asking me out on a date. A date! I’d probably been on a hundred such things, but this one, with somebody I’d known for years but didn’t know at all, was the most unnerving. I knew it had to be one special event, so I picked a sure thing for a first date, a Burt Reynolds movie. He was popular at the time, a man’s sort of man as well as eye candy for me. The perfect combo.
Deliverance!
I sat through the harrowing adventures of four hapless canoers, kind of regretting I hadn’t picked a comedy, when we came to the Main Event featuring poor Ned Beatty. Dork Alert: at that moment, I realized that either Tim would never speak to me again…or he’d love me forever.
Fortunately, he selected the last choice. If you haven’t seen the classic movie, rent it and remind yourself that this was some fool’s first date choice. But it must have spun some kind of magic. We never dated anybody else after seeing it, and it’s now thirty-three years, two kids and one grandson later.
A Southern California native, Tanya Hanson honed her writing skills during the fifteen years she taught high school English. She’s published in Western Romance but the sophomore slump has been a long one, yet she (and her amazing critique partner, multi-pubbed and best selling author Charlene Sands) refuse to give up!
I nearly lost my husband at Howard Johnson’s.
We met at a singles event and arranged to get together the following Saturday. As a fledgling reporter, I’d somehow snagged two free passes to Disneyland. They didn’t include the parking and, being young and cheap, we didn’t want to pay to park two cars. So we arranged to meet at a nearby Howard Johnson’s where we could leave one for free.
That was in the days before cell phones, but what’s the big deal with meeting somebody in front of a hotel?
Problem: He assumed we were meeting in front of the restaurant. I assumed in front of the lobby. Or maybe I’ve got that backwards. Anyway, you couldn’t see one place from the other.
I waited. And waited. Even went to a phone booth and called his house, but no one answered.
Was this guy just another unreliable jerk? I honestly didn’t think so. Fortunately, I hung around just a little longer and Kurt, having the same positive expectations about me, decided to take a final swing through the parking lot in his pickup.
Hooray! We were delighted to see each other. And we had a great date. Ate dinner overlooking Pirates of the Caribbean (that was included with the free passes. Otherwise, we’d have dined on hot dogs). Went on the Matterhorn and hollered all the way down.
We’ll celebrate our 29th anniversary in October.
Jackie Diamond Hyman (w/a Jacqueline Diamond) is the award-winning author of more than 75 novels. Her first e-book, Touch Me In the Dark, was released last month by Triskelion Publishing. You can find her at www.jacquelinediamond.com.
Today I met the boy I’m going to marry….
OCC member and USA Today Bestselling author Susan Mallery wants to hear the stories of your last first date for the latest contest on our blog, A Slice of Orange.
She’s looking for stories of the first time you went on a date with your spouse or main squeeze. We want it all! The good, the bad, the funny, the romantic!
Contest runs from June 4 until June 15. Blogs will be posted every day, including weekends. Susan will judge all entries and announce the top three on June 22.
The first place winner will receive a signed copy of Susan’s June release, Her Last First Date, and a Starbucks gift card.
*A Slice of
Blog #1: What’s in a Name? or Brainstorming Blitz
When Sandy first asked us as a critique group if we would be interested in contributing blogs for the OCC website, we scratched our collective heads. We being me, Barb DeLong, along with Jann Audiss, Cathy Oliver and our newest CG member, Johna Machak. What would we write about? Would anyone be interested in what we have to say? Who are we, anyway?
We decided to discuss all this over dinner and drinks that very evening at the Taps Fish House and Brewery in Brea. As the meal progressed, we came up with possible subjects for future blogs. Yes, we decided we might actually have a few words to say from time to time, and yes, perhaps because we’re ever so witty and wise, someone might actually enjoy reading them. But first and foremost we needed to name our critique group. It had to be something clever and upbeat. Hmmm . . .
What better way to come up with that definitive name than to brainstorm. As most of you know, brainstorming is a fabulous tool that writers use to list all the possible and impossible plots, scenes, consequences, etc., that will aid the writer in finding that perfect happening, that perfect thing, that will set her book apart from the rest. I pulled the napkin out from under my lemon drop martini and scrounged a pen.
We started off staidly enough with The Creative Quills (too stuffy, sounds historical), The Bookworms (Cathy wasn’t going to be any darned animal), The Red Liners (too harsh), The Wordsmiths (hard to say), The Prose Polishers (ditto). O-kay. This was good. We were all contributing, throwing stuff out there. One admonition: no comments on the names until we were through. Brainstorming means get it down, no matter how bad or good or improbable. Or inappropriate. I grabbed another napkin. Drinks all around.
The Word Pro’s (copyrighted, I think), Word Divas (not bad), Words R Us (can’t get that R to go backward), The Book Babes (Cathy wasn’t going to be any darned babe), Happy Hour Critique Group (now we were getting somewhere). Oops, we just couldn’t help it – the comments and snickers continued.
The Drama Queens (we laughed till we cried), the Quivering Quills (Jann passed out the tissues), The Query Dearies (my fave). By that time we’d begun disturbing the other diners. The waiters gave us dirty looks. We decided to continue this brainstorming activity on-line, where we could make all the noise we wanted.
Well, one month and one dining experience later, we settled on the Writers Rock Critique Group. For now. Subject to change without notice. So, brainstorming is a great tool. Enjoy it over dinner and drinks. Just bring lots of tissues and a designated driver. A notebook is optional. After all, they have plenty of napkins.
Here’s the thing about advice: I don’t like it. I don’t like to get it and I don’t like to dish it out. Now, that’s in theory, of course. In real life I too often tell people what they ought to do in any given situation, even when they haven’t asked for input. And I’m always getting little pointers from friends on anything from where to buy the best shoes for wide feet to which retirement community I ought to be looking into for my aging mom to which of the Food Network shows might appeal to someone who doesn’t eat sugar and is always trying to “cut down.†Having a theory is easy; living it is hard.
See, the thing about advice—the unsolicited kind, that often begins with “If you don’t mind me saying…†or “You should…â€â€”is that it sends a subliminal message saying “The way you are doing it now is wrong.†It can be coated with all kinds of caveats but that’s the one. And I don’t know about you but I’m always thinking that someone, somewhere knows better than I do how to do everything, and advice reinforces it. That’s why my back gets stiff when I’m offered unasked-for words of wisdom, and why when I find myself about to do it—I am human, after all, right?—I try to shut up before the words pass my lips. The thing is no one is doing anything the right or wrong way. They’re doing the best they can and that has to be enough.
Okay, all that being said, if I have any advice for new writers (after all, I’m blogging at the actual request of someone, right?), it’s to say Yes. Yes to writing down a random thought or idea for a book or a character or a scene. Yes to attending classes given by experienced writers. Yes to attending conferences, to submitting your work to contests, to sharing your work with people you trust and respect and taking in their feedback. Yes to incorporating it into your work if possible but not if it doesn’t resonate with you. Yes to listening to the small, inner voice that says to find the time to do this thing you’ve wanted to do for years but have been putting off because you’re guilty about taking time away from family or other commitments, or because you don’t think enough of yourself to follow through, or you have a rock-bottom, core belief you’re not good enough.
By the way, the other thing I tell new writers is to say No. No to people who are toxic to your dreams, no to people who love to criticize but have no solutions, no to the negative inner voices that may be part of us all, but when we listen to them we give them the upper hand, and I don’t know about you, but I really don’t like giving power to anything that tells me I’m not good enough. Gets my back up, you know?
As you can tell, I don’t have any ABC-type pointers today; there are lots of teachers and writers out there with excellent ones to share, so make use of them. Instead I’ll close with some random thoughts I have about writing in general (taken from a recent on-line class I taught) and I hope worth something to someone somewhere:
Writing is not easy; it’s the hardest work I’ve ever done.
If I fall in love with a phrase or a sentence or paragraph and am having to re-write a whole section just to be sure to keep that phrase or sentence or paragraph in, it probably has to go. I always get sad about this, but I always get over it. For this purpose I have created a MISC. REJECTS file. All of them go in there, and I am always determined I will use these brilliant phrases or sentences or paragraphs one day in something else. So far, I never have.
When dealing with editors and agents, I try to be warm and open, but I always keep in mind that this is a business and we are not friends. I try to have very few expectations or fantasies about them; inevitably they will disappoint me if I do.
When others ask me, uninvited, to help them “get published†I cordially tell them it’s not in my power to do so. If they ask me, uninvited, to read their stuff, I cordially tell them my own writing takes up too much of my time to deal with other people’s writing and suggest they join a writer’s or critique group. I try never to act put out. If they are displeased, it’s not my problem; I am responsible for my actions, not other people’s reactions.
I always hope my editor will accept a manuscript exactly as it is; this has never happened.
For all of my nineteen book sales, I have had at least twice as many rejections. Over the years, they hurt less. I just keep plowing on.
I have an answering machine instead of voice mail. That way I can monitor my calls while I’m writing. I am not guilty when I don’t pick up the phone.
I am about to embark on a Single Title Woman’s Fiction novel—some romance but more about other relationships, and as much sex as I feel comfortable writing. The last time I tried I was turned down by six prominent editors; it’s taken a while to get up the courage to try again.
I am a strong woman. I am a feminist. I love reading and writing romances. If I didn’t—if I had any shame or discomfort about it—I wouldn’t be doing it.
Sometimes what’s on the page is doo doo and I can only hope tomorrow will be better. It usually is.
I love words, always have. I love books, always have. I raised my children to love words and books and, thank god, they do.
Most of my ideas come from dreams or random thoughts that begin with “What if?†As the years go on, there is more of a direct connection to my creativity/unconscious and I am less and less in my own way. It wasn’t like this in the beginning, not in the least. I used to tie myself up in knots over what I wasn’t getting down on the page. I am so glad time has passed and I’ve gotten older. No kidding.
I hate a lot of my books’ covers, and a great many of their titles, but I’ve learned that I don’t have a lot of control in that department. Argggghhhh.
I love other writers. I laugh more in their company than I do with any other type of human being.
I despise envy. I especially despise it when I sense it in myself, but, alas, it does come up. I work on it.
I give thanks every day that I am not a perfectionist. If it’s 90% there, I’m happy.
I never have writers’ block; every time I sit down to write, I do. It’s getting me to that chair that can be a huge problem. I wish I were more disciplined; never have been, most likely won’t be.
If I didn’t enjoy the act of writing, I wouldn’t be doing it. Hope you feel the same way.
Diane Pershing’s May release from Silhouette Romantic Suspense, ONE COOL LAWMAN, received a “4 ½ stars, Top Pick†rating from “Romantic Times.â€
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A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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