Just today, I found out that a good friend’s 20-something daughter has gotten engaged. Keep in mind that this girl was about 9 when I first met her, so in one instant, I felt very, very old. In the next, I was thinking, “NO! She’s too young! She hasn’t known him long enough!”

But a few moments later, I realized that’s pretty hypocritical. I mean, in a lot of my romance novels, my heroines have known the hero for all of 24 hours before she sleeps with him and maybe 36-48 before they’ve made some sort of commitment. In my defense, I’ve rarely ended a book with that sort of timeline with an engagement, but it’s a romance novel. Readers know these two people will end up together for the long haul. Wedding bells and all that. I just don’t always show it because it seems very cliche when I’m writing non-traditional romances in other ways. I’m writing about that initial bang (no pun intended)–that jolt of attraction and the beginnings of trust and love. Not all my books at slices of romantic life, but some are.

Back to the impending wedding. Remarkably, as a woman in her forties (just barely!) my first reaction to any young woman getting engaged seems to be protection-mode. I’m like a soldier, fighting for the heart and soul of my younger recruit. I’ve been married 15 years now and when I was wed at 25, I thought I’d waited long enough. Now, I think 25 is so young! Not that I’d make different choices, but I might have done things differently. I know for a fact I would have bought a different dress. ;-)

But after a few seconds of quizzing my friend on the wisdom of this engagement, I realized how my initial reaction contradicted my firm belief in romance, in love/lust at first sight, in the power of soulmates. It’s hard, I suppose, to mesh the reality of relationships that happen in the real world with the fantasy we write in our books. I’ve never expected a romance novel to be real–I never expected my life to read like a romance novel (well, not ALL the time.) But I still love these books. Why?

Is there a huge gulf between relationships in romance novels and those in real life? Does there have to be? Should real romances read like romance novels or is that setting readers up for unrealistic expectations? Should women hold men to the same high standard as romance novel heroes? Is that realistic?

It’s an interesting question…one I don’t have any real answers to. Do you?

One of my favorite themes in books is the Fish Out of Water. The theme can be used to evoke so many emotional responses from comedy to drama to suspense.

In a way, Luke Skywalker was a major fish out of water in the first Star Wars film. The scene in the bar exemplified this. He didn’t know what he was doing and ended up in danger because of it (remember Obi-Wan and the lightsaber and the bloody arm?) Part of the thrill of watching that series was witnessing Luke become more comfortable in his skin and in the world thrust upon him. I remember vividly seeing those first few minutes of him in Return of the Jedi. That was some hot stuff.

The fish out of water is a great theme in books, too, from classics to current books. One of my favorite recent reads is the novel, SECRET SOCIETY GIRL by Diana Peterfreund. Even though the heroine, Amy Haskel, is tapped into a prestigious secret society, she is still a fish out of water. She’s not male, she’s not super-wealthy or super-smart or super-anything, which has previously seemed to be a pre-requisite for membership into Rose & Grave. She relies on her wit, her determination and her chutzpah to get through. Those things (wit, determination, chutzpah…and her lists. We cannot forget her lists) ground her in the story and let the reader know that this person has the stuff to overcome the conflicts of the story. What grounded Luke was his inherent power over the force.

That’s the trick to a fish out of water tale. For the story to be satisfying to the reader (in my opinion,) the character has to have one up on everyone else around them in one area or they’re just a floundering fish. I have no interest in watching that. It’s embarrassing.

It’s like watching biopics on Lady Diana. You know, history notwithstanding, that the world of the royals is going to eat her up and spit her out. It’s why some chick-lit books don’t work for me…some of the heroines simply aren’t equipped to succeed and when they do, it seems totally out of the blue. But when you read a chick-lit thriller, let’s say, like Julie Kenner’s series for Pocket (starting with The Givenchy Code) even though her heroines are thrown into completely foreign worlds, they have one thing–code breaking skills or even knowledge of Broadway (in the Manolo Matrix) that gives them one advantage. Something they can rely on. Something the reader can hold tight to and say, “It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but she’s got X. She can survive.”

One of my favorite movies is WHAT A GIRL WANTS. Why? Well, Colin Firth. Hubba, hubba. But secondarily, I loved the storyline and the character played by Amanda Bynes. She was a fish out of water, but she wasn’t stupid. She had her sense of humor and strong sense of self to ground her (at least, until she goes temporarily down the wrong path…such is cinematic conflict) I enjoyed watching her find her way back to the unique, quirky girl who I adored at the start of the film.

The second book in my Marisela Morales “Dirty” series has the fish out of water theme. The first time Marisela hit the pages, she was a brand new special agent with very little training, but the world I put her in was peopled with cats she knew–drug dealers, gun runners, generally bad guys. In the second book, DIRTY LITTLE LIES, (out next week!), I had her travel to Boston. In some scenes, she’s with her own element, but in most scenes, she’s dealing with rich, upper-class, old-monied people of infinite power and influence. Even her nemesis in the book is her exact opposite–a monied, educated killer. That makes Marisela the fish out of water, even though she isn’t afraid to swim with sharks. In most cases, Marisela simply too cocky to recognize that she doesn’t belong, but I find that appealing. It’s a different spin on a familiar theme.

So what are your favorite fish out of water movies and books? And why do you enjoy that theme? Or do you

Some of you might know that I regularly blog at two places…every Wednesday over at the Plotmonkeys and then twice a month here at AccessRomance. I don’t know how it has ended up that TWICE, I’ve had blog days fall together. Makes it hard to choose topics.

So…at Plotmonkeys, I’m discussing Young Adult literature, most specifically, two books that I recently read…Gena Showalter’s OH MY GOTH and Caridad Ferrer’s ADIOS TO MY OLD LIFE. Both books blew me away. Both books were published by MTV books, a division of Pocket. I’m telling you, if this is the direction YA lit is taking, then I’m glad my daughter will soon be growing into that age group. She has a while to go, but I love the hip voices in these two books, which are still wrapped up in an innocent realism that I’m marveling at. Both books are real…but not TOO real. As a mom, I’m in love.

So if you want to know more about that, check out the Plotmonkeys blog today.

What books did you read as a teen–and I don’t mean the ones you sneaked from your mom, sister or grandmom. Which books did you read (possibly as a preteen) that were actually aimed at your age group? Judy Blume? Paula Danzinger? Paul Zindel? SE Hinton? Were you like me…practically making the jump from the Hardy Boys to VC Andrews in one long leap? I wish they had cool books about teens back when I was one…if they did, I don’t remember them.

What are the kids around you reading now? Are we creating a generation of readers? And why is it that now that I’m past 40, I’m enjoying teen and children’s lit more than ever? I’m currently reading THE MONSTROUS MEMOIRS OF THE MIGHTY MCFEARLESS by Ahmet Zappa with my daughter. It’s amazingly written. Mr. Zappa loves him some alliteration and he loves gross images, but the story is laugh-out-loud funny and engaging from page to page. My eight year old is having a blast.

And honestly, so am I!

That sounds like a good title…you know, you can’t go home again and all that? Unfortunately for me, Atlanta was never home. But it was where I lived for two years and returning there always is meshed with mixed emotions. This week, me and about a gazillion other romance writers will be heading to ATL for the annual RWA conference. As with any conference, I’m looking forward to going so I can hang with my pals, meet readers, drink and eat huge quantities and re-energize my love of writing.

But I’m going back to Atlanta, a city that holds some definitely depressing memories.

You have to understand, I’m a Florida girl. Born and raised. One of the first things I missed back in 1994 when we moved to Georgia was palm trees. I had no idea I had any affinity for palm trees until they suddenly weren’t there. And seabreezes. And thunderstorms that only last for an hour. And driving over bridges. (Not bridges over the Chatahoochee, either. They simply didn’t cut it.)

I don’t mean to diss Atlanta. As a city, it’s pretty awesome. It’s a little bit country, a little bit rock-n-roll, as Donny & Marie used to sing (yes, I’m showing my age…sue me.) Atlanta has loads of Southern charm, as evidenced by restaurants like Anthony’s and how everything is named Peachtree, but it is incredibly cosmopolitan, too. Excellent clubs, fabulous restaurants, great art and theatre and a boatload of history. Perhaps my mistake was in not visiting the city more as a tourist before being yanked away from all my family and friends (except my husband of course) to live there for 1 year, 11 months, 3 weeks (you get the idea…)

Well, that doesn’t wash since I visited the city nearly every year while my aunt and uncle lived in Dunwoody. But that’s Dunwoody, right? The suburbs. Not the city itself. Different animal entirely.

But I’m looking forward to making the most of my trip. I hope to get over to Mick’s, first and foremost. Mick’s, you see, is an Atlanta restaurant chain that serves the most delicious fried green tomatoes in the world. And because, as I said, Atlanta is a southern town missed with cosmopolitan city, Mick’s serves said fried green tomatoes with a roasted red pepper sauce and goat cheese.

Yum.

I will forgo my usual mojitos and have mint juleps while in Atlanta. I will be riding from the airport with Carly Phillips and chances are, as we pass by the exit to our old apartment (now condo), I’m certain I’ll show it to her. I hear the little shopping village in Vinings is gone, which is a shame. I used to hang out at the Hallmark/gift shop. They always had the neatest stuff. And Key Lime Pie jellybellies…for a little taste of home.

I’d love to get downtown to go to the World of Coke so I can taste the cola from Italy and proclaim, yet again, how gross it is, while I rave over the one from Japan. (Yes, I know I can do this at EPCOT. I do it at least twice a year…it’s just not the same.)

The more times I go back since moving back home to sunny Florida, the more the bad memories seem to fade away. This fall, I plan to bring my daughter, who was not born when my husband and I lived there, to Atlanta to enjoy their new aquarium and Stone Mountain. I think that visit alone will erase the last of the loneliness I associate with the city.

Or at least I hope.

So, travelers, what cities/towns/spots stir up all sorts of mixed feelings for you? Have you gone back? And if you have (or haven’t) how did it go?

And for all of you going to ATL this week, travel safely and see you there!

With the Fourth of July this week, I’ve been thinking about the freedoms that mean the most to me. One is the freedom to read.

I’m inspired because of all the hullabaloo happening in poor Gwinnett County, Georgia. First, they had the mother who wanted Harry Potter banned from, I believe, a school library (which confuses me since her kids are homeschooled, but whatever.) Then there was the Gwinnett County Library Board that took away their meager budget ($3000) for Spanish-language fiction books because, as one school board member reportedly said, she’d rather immigrants read life skills books than Harlequins. Don’t get me started on that one. I’ve already fought that battle (with letters to said Library Board…word is they’re rethinking their decision.)

Now the Harry Potter is Evil mom is back, appealing the decision to keep Harry Potter books available to the children. Her argument that HP promotes witchcraft and devil-worship didn’t fly, but she’s back with more.

::sigh::

Is this the freedom we’ve fought for?

Part of me wants to say yes, that this woman has a right to her opinion. A right to speak her mind and voice her opinion for all the world to hear.

But the bigger part of me says “hell no.” If she doesn’t want HER kids to read that book, then have at it. She’s the parent. But she has no business making that choice for all the other children in that school or school district.

In a way, I wish I lived in good old Gwinnett because I’d go toe-to-toe with her in a heartbeat. I’m no stranger to censorship. As a former high school teacher, I have lived through parent challenges of books. Lived and survived. Though just barely. Frankly, one such challenge played a large part in my decision to retire from teaching simply because I didn’t feel the school district (a Catholic high school) supported the teachers. It was a private school. Tuition people, is a powerful thing.

But I digress.

In both the schools I taught at, a parent could not file a formal challenge of a book unless they read the book and wrote a detailed report objecting to specific content. (Gwinnett Harry Potter Is Evil Mom has admitted she hasn’t read the books because they are too long.) There were no bandwagons to jump on, either. Every parent who wanted to jump on board the objections had to do the same–read the book and file a report. It separated the wackos from the serious, and frankly, few of the parents actually went through with the whole process. Which was the idea, IMO. I was a professional teacher, as were my colleagues. We didn’t pick books because they had pretty covers. We read them. We discussed them. We carefully considered the educational aspects of the book, particularly any that had questionable or mature content.

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Once, I had a parent object to a book I was teaching, THE CHILD QUEEN by Nancy McKenzie. (A fabulous book recently re-released under the title, QUEEN OF CAMELOT). I was told by the vice principal of the objection, but he never told me the parent’s name. The parent never filed a formal complaint, so the matter was dropped–thankfully, before I had to rewrite all my lesson plans, throw out all the quizzes, tests and writing assignments I had built around this book. At the end of the school year, I was doing end-of-year conferences when these parents came in. Their son was a delight in my class. Relatively quiet, but hardworking. I had nothing but praise to offer these parents when the mother started to shake and cry.

She spilled her guts to me. How could I teach that book?! How could I present 9th graders with a novel that promoted homosexuality? Merlin was a homosexual in this book, she claimed. How could I?

My question was, “What are you smoking?”

I kept my question to myself. I simply asked her if she’d read the book herself. Not since high school, she told me.

Okay. Nancy McKenzie’s book was published in 1994. This event happened in 1996.

I went on to explain to her that no, Merlin wasn’t a homosexual in this book…in fact, Merlin only appeared in two or three scenes. (This is Guinevere’s story, not Arthur’s.) And when he was in the book, he had a woman with him. The only sex that was in the book was between Guinevere and Arthur and it was neither graphic nor inappropriate since they were, after all, married. She seemed a little bit appeased, but man, if that wasn’t the weirdest parent/teacher conference I’d ever had…well, at least she didn’t stop me in the hallway to tell me I was going to burn in hell. (And yes, dear friends, that happened.)

Took me the longest time to figure out that she’d confused THE CHILD QUEEN with Mary Stewart’s THE CRYSTAL CAVE. And no, Merlin wasn’t a homosexual in that one either–however, Uther, who hated Merlin, called him a medieval name for homosexual. This was never explained in the book…it was just sort of implied.

So…this is what this woman remembers from reading a book twenty years before and why she objected to an unrelated book and nearly made my life a living hell.

So my point is…I value my freedom to read whatever the hell I damn well please, whenever the hell I want to read it. I value this freedom for my daughter and will fight tooth and nail before I let any other parent within a thousand mile radius make a decision about what is appropriate for her and what is not. That’s my choice and no one else’s (except, perhaps, my husband, but I have a strong feeling he’d leave this matter to me.) I hope that every parent who reads this will make sure that they are not the part of any silent majority and that if censorship rears its ugly head anywhere near your children, you will stand up and tell those other parents to keep their hands off your child’s mind.

That’s the freedom I want to highlight this week, the freedom I cherish when the flag waves outside my house. Okay, it’s not the only freedom I cherish, but in light of what I do for a living (and what I did in the past), it’s one that will always be special to me.

I love books. I love reading. I often read books my mother didn’t want me to read, and frankly, I think I turned out okay. Now I’m writing books my mother would prefer I not write, but I’m still very happy and well-adjusted. Well, as well-adjusted as any writer can be!

Happy Fourth of July week, dear readers!

As if anyone who knows me doesn’t already know that. I take birthdays very seriously, moreso now that I’m a mom. The longer a woman is a mom, the less likely said woman is to celebrate herself. To take some time just for her and make it count. Or maybe you’re just a career woman. Or a student. Women, by our nature, tend to put ourselves last.

I’m a prime example. Even on my birthday, I worry about picking a dessert that will please everyone in my family. And trust me, I’m not the people-pleaser type. I can be very “me” oriented career-wise, but not so much when it comes to friends and family. I’m happiest whenever everyone else is happiest. Makes me a natural peace-maker, which is an odd part of my personality.

But the odd parts of people’s personalities are the best parts in terms of characterization, when an author can make it work. I’ve been blogging about Julie Kenner’s California Demon lately because I absolutely loved the book. I loved the book not only for the twisty, turny plot, but because I can so identify with Kate, the heroine. She’s a kick-ass demon hunter…but she’s also a mom who struggles with making the best choices for her kids. Kate is me. I mean, I haven’t killed a demon literally, but in the publishing business, facing demons is part of the everyday “to-do” list. I have to be tough. I have a reputation for speaking my mind, be forthright and honest, even when it hurts. That takes a tough skin. But when it comes to my child and my family, that’s my weak spot. It’s hard to be both, but that’s my life. I guess I’m crazy for the Kate character because I so identify with her. I want to be her and yet I am her.

Not that I don’t identify with my own characters. Marisela Morales, the star of my “Dirty” series for Pocket, has a lot of my qualities, but she’s loads different, too. I enjoy writing her because she *is* different. She forces me to think outside my comfortable box. Most of my characters are that way. I must share at least one trait or love with them–it’s the way I connect–but otherwise, they can run the gamut for me.

But when I’m reading, there is something particularly satisfying about connecting with a character in a way that you think, “you know, she understands my life. I understand hers. We could be friends.” I hope that my characters are that way for other people…but I’ll settle for, “she’s interesting. I’d like to know her because her life is so different from mine.”

What characters are out there that touch you so deeply? Do you want characters like you, not like you, or a little bit of both, depending on the book?

Writers can be brutal. In fact, I’ve never mingled with a group that can so easily take snobbery to new levels. I know I’ve probably been guilty myself from time to time. But the longer I’m in this business, the less likely I am to begrudge someone else their success, whether I liked their book or not. Not that I ever have. But lately, the trend of bashing someone who is successful has really started to get on my last nerve.

A prime example of this is occurring over at Miss Snark’s blog, which I normally read every day. Sometimes twice. But I’m taking a break right now because the Word Verification screen doesn’t work, meaning I can’t reply and post my opinion, meaning my frustration level is rising.

Meaning…I’ll blog about it here.

Welcome to the new blood sport, writers! Trashing successful authors! This week, the target is Dan Brown, with a little J.K. Rowling thrown in!

First of all, J.K. Rowling is bloody brilliant and anyone who thinks otherwise is a, as my friend Bugs would put it, a maroon. ‘Nuf said on that. You don’t have to like her books, but give the woman the respect she deserves for turning a whole generation on to reading, okay? (Not to mention the other generations she sucked in to her world, too.)

But let’s get on to Dan Brown. Wow, for a man who has sold a book that over 40 million people own–in hardback–he’s one trickster. I mean, how else would you explain how such a hack has achieved such success?

Cough, cough. Sorry, even sarcasm doesn’t work here.

Here’s the facts people: The general public LOVES this book. They’ve gone back and bought ANGELS AND DEMONS in huge numbers, as well as DIGITAL FORTRESS and other of Brown’s releases. I know a lot of writers think the general public is made up of maroons who have fallen under some popular spell, but those readers are your readers, too. Have a little respect, why don’t you?

I’ve read the DAVINCI CODE. Do I think it’s a perfect book? No. But then, I wasn’t trying to dissect it, either. I, like millions of other people, just wanted to enjoy myself. And you know what? I did.

At first, I resisted reading the book simply because I’d heard that it put the Catholic Church in a negative light and being that I’m Catholic, I didn’t really feel the need to contribute to that. However, my pastor has been talking a lot about the book lately and he got me curious. (He isn’t against the book, by the way. He reminded us that the book was FICTION and that it could be a catalyst for us to explore our church history.) And then the movie came out. Okay, okay. I succumbed.

I couldn’t put it down.

Did Brown have some quirks in the writing that I found, as a fellow writer, a bit amateurish?

Yes.

Did I enjoy the story anyway?

Yes.

It’s one hell of a page-turner.

And a lot of people agree with me. People with no reason to feel jealous. People who have no need to feel superior as they cash their $125 royalty checks or collect yet another rejection letter from the NY publishing conglomerates. People who want nothing more than to be entertained, to feel smart, to have an author shove a hand into their bellies and clutch hard as they go on a wild, unpredictable ride.

I’m not going to disrespect those readers. I want those readers to be my readers. And in a lot of cases, they ARE my readers.

Why did the DAVINCI CODE work for me when it didn’t work for others? Um…reading is subjective?

Wow. New concept.

I’ve heard over and over again that Brown’s characters were flat and two-dimensional. Not to me. I had no trouble instantly liking Sophie the minute she lied to her superior in order to save Robert Langdon from being falsely accused of a crime the reader knows he didn’t commit. I liked Robert Langdon instantly, though I can’t tell you why–possibly because he was a fish out of water–a man being set up to take the fall and so innocent in the workings of criminal investigations that he didn’t see it. But when push came to shove, he kept his head, he made choices, he ACTED.

I think Brown’s book is an excellent example of characterization through ACTION. Brown doesn’t spend pages and pages ruminating about the characters backgrounds. If he said anything about Langdon’s life before the action of the DAVINCI CODE, I missed it. Sophie’s past was leaked to us in bits and pieces and while I found some of it annoying (I didn’t buy that she’d be so scandalized by seeing her grandfather have sex), I bought into her personal prudishness and moved along. The bottom line for me was that Sophie was brave and exhibited grace under pressure. She was smart. I liked her.

I think, sometimes, writers believe that readers need more characterization spoon fed to them than they really do.

I’m not saying that Brown’s book didn’t have flaws. I’m saying that those flaws simply didn’t matter to most readers. I’m not saying that some readers aren’t whack-jobs for thinking the “facts” Brown presents are real, when it’s clear with five minutes of research that they are not. Well, some are. What I’m saying is that I found the way he tied it all together IN A FICTIONAL WAY absolutely brilliant. Maybe I’m not that smart. Fine. I don’t need to throw around my intellectual superiority or lack thereof. When I read fiction, I simply want to be entertained.

I enjoyed the story.

So did millions of other people.

Those people taking cheap shots at Dan Brown, in my eyes, look like idiots. If you didn’t like the book, great. Fine. Say so. But this blanket bashing of the man with the implication that anyone who thinks the book was good is an uneducated fool reeks of the kind of snobbery I’d prefer not to participate in.

“I don’t want to be the next Dan Brown,” they say. Uh-huh. Like you’d turn down his fame or his paycheck and the adoration of a ton of readers who don’t give a damn if he dumped information or put in a few clunky passages of history and will gladly shell out $24.95 for a hardback when fiction sales are plummeting.

Riiiiight.