Witchy Thoughts

There is a great post on Amanda's blog today, about how the witches got together. And it reminded me of the first time Sara and I ever spoke.

A few weeks before the RNA conference in 2004, we discovered - quite by chance via the eharlequin boards - that we'd be on the same plane from Singapore to Heathrow. Wow! What an opportunity to get together before the conference!

So we exchanged a couple of formal emails introducing ourselves to each other (hehe, yes remember those polite emails, Sara?!) and then towards the end of the flight Sara came down looking for me (how brave is that?)

I think she must have batted her eyelashes at the flight attendent as he let me ascend to the splendour of business class, where Sara and I then proceded to be Painfully Polite with each other.

ahahaha. I am giggling now as I think of it. The roar of the engines prevented anything but genteel yelling (and I of course never yell) and then we hit some turbulance. After some toilet talk (ie aircraft loos are ridiculously tiny - what did you think I was talking about?!) I had to stagger back to my seat to prepare for landing.

The funny thing is we didn't become friends until after I returned to Australia and Sara returned to New Zealand a few weeks after the conference. We sometimes laugh about that time on the plane, and think how different it would be if we met up now that we know each other so well.

Oh yeah. Next time we'll be prepared, cause we'll take along our laptops so we can msn each other - even if we are sitting on the same aisle (those engines can be pretty noisy, y'know!)

Witchy Thoughts

Happy Birthday Amanda!

Luckily you can't hear me singing here, as it would make you weep... hehe.

But here's a big Happy Birthday dear Amanda! And now you're twenty-nine that means - gasp - you're the same age as me!!

Happy Birthday Amanda!

Seven Year Itch

Writing itch, that is. Yes, it was seven years ago this Easter I decided to try and put my dreams of publication into practice, by actually sitting down and doing some writing.

My very first effort was a category length romance with weirdy paranormal overtones. The first publisher I sent it to was very enthusiastic and gave me a couple of rounds of revisions. Ah, I thought. Excitedly. At this rate I'll be pubbed by Christmas! And had great fun mentally spending all the dosh I was bound to make (yes. I was either incredibly naive or laughably stupid!!)

Unfortunately, between being offered a contract and said contract arriving, the publisher went into liquidation and although I tried other publishers it seemed weirdy paranormal cats weren't flavour of the month. Year. Decade...

Then I tried targetting Harlequin Mills and Boon and learned weirdy paranormal elements weren't encouraged so I turned to straight contemps. And over the next four years I wrote (and revised) at least a dozen mss, got to grips with Emotional Punch, sucked up a huge amount of invaluable information from the Harlequin website, but, most importantly, met lots of like minded people (ie writers! and romance writers at that!) including the three fabulous witches.

A couple of years ago I decided to try my hand at writing single titles (still straight contemporaries, although I did dabble with first person present - OMG! That was fun) but at the same time could no longer put off a story that had been driving me demented for at least four years. A dark paranormal short, that I sent off to a romance magazine which promptly folded. Sigh.

I wrote another two straight romances, while paranormal got hot. And hotter. And finally it dawned on me... I could go back to my first love of mixing romance with weirdy stuff.

So, it's been seven years and I'm once again writing about reincarnation, witches, psychics and strange magic. I know everything happens for a reason and the universe works in mysterious ways, but I sure hope this time the planets align long enough to snag me a fantabulous contract!

Seven Year Itch

Ball Gowns

It's that time of year again. Youngest daughter's Year 12 ball. So, always the great organiser (hmm wonder where she gets that from?) she leaves it till the last possible moment before realising she needs A Frock.

When I say last moment, I mean it. Like, this weekend and the ball is tomorrow. Cue hysterical laughter.

So darling husband said we will go into the city and find A Frock. Son kicked up a stink as (a) he hates shopping, and (b) he really hates girlie shopping. Whatever. We didn't exactly give him a choice here.

After we spent at least an hour wandering around seriously lost and seriously pissed off at not finding any posh frocks, darling husband decides to cut to the chase, and Asks at the information kiosk. Wow. How cool to have a man with a plan!

We find the chic boutiques and flutter over the fairy frocks. And then we see the prices and have heart attacks instead. Finally, darling daughter tries on yet another gown. It's slinky, shimmery and reminds me of a mermaid princess (I then had to reassure her I was paying her a compliment and not being snarky!)

By the time we got home daughter was beaming, son was scowling, our feet were throbbing and our credit card was red hot. Oops.

Ball Gowns