Stop...

Sometimes one reason is so powerful to make you stop that you wonder why you ever started.

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Exactly....

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Psycho babble…

Woo hoo! I can actually have a shower at home. Bathroom renovations...what angst ridden drama that is. Floors have to be poured and set, tiles stuck and set...it's all about waiting for things to dry before something else can be done so it will then be wet and you have to wait for it then to dry. Most of my bathroom is in my bedroom and I cannot begin to describe how messy the path is that the bathroom dudes have been using. Men = mess. Why do we bother with them again? Oh yes, that’s right, they lift heavy tiles.

Due to all this chaos I have not been able to shower at home so I have been hanging out at the gym and using their showers. I did contemplate using the showers at work but they’re in a dark little corner area and while very little frightens me I have the feeling Norman Bates is hanging out there waiting to relive the whole psycho deal and I’m not about to play Janet Leigh. I don’t like trouble when I'm naked.

Interestingly at the gym no one ever – and I mean ever – uses the first shower stall. Why? Stuffed if I know and the gym staff doesn’t know why either. It’s always sparkly clean - I have therefore decided that this shall be declared my shower stall. I think that’s reasonable.

So yay – I can shower. Life is good…better Friday of course…

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One step forward, three back…

SARAH Murdoch has appeared on the cover of a women's magazine in an untouched photograph, saying women should be able to embrace the beauty of ageing.

"It makes me mad that we can't embrace the beauty of ageing, because we're all going to do it."

http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/story/0,28383,26266376-5013560,00.html

Well done Sarah Murdoch. We need more women of influence to be game enough to look like themselves and to hell with what anyone thinks. And yeah, we’re all going to age and we have to deal with it as countless generations have before us. I have never understood why people don’t comprehend that. People age. Get over it and get on with life I say. My 72 year aunt slid down a banister three times today just because she could. Spirit is way more beautiful than any airbrushed photo could ever be.

“It's women competing against women, they're not doing it for their husbands.”

Oh yeah…sadly we do. And why? Is any man worth the competition? And if you have to compete in some beauty contest for his heart then that suggests to me he was never meant to be yours and it’s not his heart he’s thinking with.

Parts of the article annoyed the hell out of me….

“The non-airbrushed photo of Ms Murdoch, a model and the wife of media heir Lachlan Murdoch, appears on the cover of the latest issue of the Australian Women's Weekly.”

Hmmm…I have never understood how it’s relevant who a woman is married to. Wife of? It’s so 1950’s. What would have happened if she wasn’t married? Sarah Murdoch unmarried and er …then what? How is it relevant? She is who she is regardless of a tag or husband.

“Ms McCabe said the magazine often received letters about their use of airbrushing but Ms Murdoch's example may not set a precedent.” "I can't possibly commit to that, I'm a realist.

"There are real business imperatives why magazines have gone this way, it's a very competitive industry and I'm at this stage just taking a little baby step and seeing how this goes for now."

Baby steps? Who the hell will ever get the guts to do something in the fashion industry without worrying about what another fashionista or woman’s magazine is thinking or doing? What this says to me is that this is essentially a stunt to sell magazines. All that talk about ‘codes of conduct’ and ‘healthy weight models’ is just talk. I wonder how many more women will starve to death or be maimed by dangerous plastic surgery before the fashion industry has a real conscience and not just sing platitudes to look like they’re doing something. Baby steps? For god sake stride ahead and make a bloody change. I’m sure we’ll be having this debate in 20 years. How sad.

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Tattoo me…

So I got a foot tattoo done on the way home from work. It’s a big butterfly and I’m most pleased with the results. I gave the talented tattoo artist Jason a half arsed picture of what I wanted and he created something beautiful. I love it when people understand what you want in just a few words. That’s so rare.

A foot tatt is supposed to hurt. I was ready for the pain but I was kind of surprised that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought. Jason was also surprised. He said – “swear or cry or something.” So I swore some to make him feel better. To be honest I was more interested in watching him ink it in. It’s the most fascinating process. The last two tatts I had done I was not in a position to look. I admire people with artistic talent. To be able to make something out of nothing is an amazing skill.

What next on the tatt front for me? Well – not sure. I have the whole symmetry thing going on at the moment – tatt on left foot, tatt on right thigh and tatt left on shoulder – so I’ll ponder where the next one will go. I did mention to Jason that my father jokingly suggested a ‘death before dishonour’ tatt that was popular when he was in Vietnam in the late 1960’s. Jason thought this would make an excellent thigh tattoo with a skull and a dagger. Um, no…

Tattoos – they’re for life – stop and think before you ink.

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Blind Tibetan monks…

I was driving back from the gym and I was listening to this self help guru type person on the radio spruiking on about fear. No, I’m not into listening to sensitive new age crap where people contemplate their belly button while sipping organic peppermint tea grown by blind Tibetan monks on the north side of a hill that is inhabited only by sacred frogs. But that’s me. I like good old, kick-you-in-the-head reality. However, this sensitive fluffy dude did make me think about the concept of fear. He said we “must confront our fears to be truly great." Yep, I’ll go along with the confronting thing – some things you just have to stand up to – but the truly great bit? Ah no, I don’t believe that.

Why not? I’ve done a lot confronting of fear this year and I have to tell you on the whole it was not great…it was pretty average actually. While you must face what scares you, 9 times out of 10, it’s not going to make you feel great. You may feel relieved and generally a little silly, but greatness is not mixed up in that.

It annoys me that these self help nongs spout off this pop psychology without actually thinking who their listeners are. What is someone else’s fear? Should they confront it? Will it be dangerous? And yes, you can say it’s up to the individual to take what they like out of these messages but what if they are so confused and searching for answers that they do the wrong thing? I have long believed self help gurus need to look to their own lives and only treat those on an individual basis and not people on mass via syndicated media.

Fear – sure, face it if you can but no ones going to think any worse of you if you don’t. As for greatness? It comes and goes and you get on with life. No one is going to be great all the time and we just have to accept that.

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Amarinda minutiae…

Email feedback on the doability of the mile high club is mixed. See yesterday’s blog. Men say yes – definitely possible but they don’t elaborate how and women say ‘no way’ am I having sex in a cramped, smelly toilet cubicle. So, without positive proof – and I’m not flying anywhere until March - I’m going to have to call mile high clubbing it unlikely. Sorry boys, I have to go with my fellow women on this. Comfort and nice smells matter and I have to wonder how many women would have sex in what equates to a sardine can.

‘Been editing and revising all day. That’s always scads of fun – not – but it must be done “so shut and do it” I say. But – I did pick up a contract on a vamp book…always good to know I don’t suck completely.

The bathroom reno dudes have been here – on and off – renovating. I haven’t really seen them as they arrive when I’m at work and have buggered off by the time I get home. Today I saw them. Well, I glanced, smiled and chatted some before going back to my editing. Actually, when you think about it, it’s the perfect relationship. Do what I want and I can choose to see you or not. Excellent stuff.

I made a decision to go to Tassie (Tasmania) in July. Why? Because I Can. It also gives me a chance to drop in on my long suffering, stoic editor for the day. So the monsoonal heat of Darwin in March and the freezing cold of Hobart in winter. I do love extremes…

‘Got a funny review… I actually quite enjoyed it and passed it on to several friends. Basically the reviewer hated the book and the characters and it was all just wrong, wrong, wrong. She gave me 3 out of 5. Hmmm…pretty good for getting it all wrong. I don’t stress out of reviews. They’re just opinion.

So, it’s Sunday once more in Oz and its back to revising for me. Monday I get my foot tattoo. I’m looking forward to it. Am I planning another one? Why, yes, I am….

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Mile high…possible or not?

I was at work today chatting to friends on line, yes, I expect any day sometime soon I’ll feel bad about that but don’t hold your breath ….anyway, I was chatting to a smart friend and we were talking about this and that and somehow we got around to talking about the mile high club and how possible is it to have sex in a airplane toilet. I know – very important non work related stuff to break the monotony of the day. How did we get onto that subject? I’m not sure but with friends it doesn’t matter does it? The conversation just flows from one simple thought like ‘what are you doing today’ to ‘do you think it’s possible to have sex in an airplane toilet?’ See? Completely logic.

Anyway, I have to say, never having done the mile high club thing, I don’t think it’s possible to have sex in airplane toilet without getting a cramp somewhere. Last time I was on a plane in June I looked around the loo and thought ‘oh no way.’ Sure, sure, a woman can sit on the sink but there’s not a hell of a lot of room for him to stand is there? And what about when you hit an air pocket? What if the door isn’t latched securely? Or if someone wants to use the loo? How do two people exit without it looking like anything but two people who just had sex in a toilet cubicle? Or do you not care because you’re on a high? Yes, yes, I know danger is exciting but crippling yourself for an orgasm seems a tad extreme.

So, this is what I want to know – is it possible to do and what is the etiquette of mile high clubbing? Yes – comment publicly if you choose or as always you can email me personally – I’ll always answer. Enquiring minds want to know. Sex in an airplane toilet – fact or fallacy? Orgasm or Leg cramp? Doable or don’t do it Betty?

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I don't think so....

So, someone tried to bribe me today. They said - “If I give you a gift will you make something happen for me?” Hmmm, no, I’m not related to the godfather and while occasionally I have power to disperse, this obvious bribe made me smile. Was it a life or death thing? No. It was some pissy little thing that required changing a date that could not be changed anyway. What was the bribe – I mean ‘gift’? A whole $50.00. Like super model Linda Evangelista I have a price to get out of bed and $50 ain't gonna do it, sweetie darling.

I have to wonder how successful bribes really are. You give someone $50 to do something for you. The person takes it and does stuff all. In the meantime you’re expecting something to happen for your money and when it doesn’t what come back have you got? The person you bribed is hardly going to admit taking the $50 and you’re just going to look like a nong.

I have been bribed before. I always enjoy it. How people’s minds work fascinates me. Have I ever taken the cash? Oh hell no, I’m expensive to buy.

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Not fine China…

DOZENS of members of China's Uighur minority, including children, remain unaccounted for more than three months after security forces rounded them up amid ethnic clashes, Human Rights Watch said.

"They told everybody to get out of the houses,'' a resident identified as Aysanam said.

"Women and elderly were told to stand aside, and all men, 12 to 45 years old, were lined up against the wall.

"Some men were pushed on their knees, with hands tied around wooden sticks behind their backs; others were forced on the ground with hands on their heads."

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26240149-23109,00.html

This is not a scene out of a movie. This is real life happening to real people. Imagine, if you will, you're a minority fighting for the right to simply exist with the beliefs that are important to you. It's not a lot to ask is it? What if someone says 'bugger off - we want you to be like us and act like us otherwise we don’t want you around.’ You’d be pissed. Imagine that happening in your country? In your home town? You'd be up in arms demanding your personal freedom to be who you are with the beliefs you have. What if one day someone you loved was rounded up by the officials and you searched everywhere for them but no one would tell you where they were? What would you do?

I don’t care what religion you are, what colour you are or what you believe. If you are living peacefully and causing no harm to another person then you should be allowed to exist in peace. What has happened to these people in China is appalling. But, I have to wonder who really cares? It's not ‘us’ is it? It’s ‘them.’ I'm safe - you’re safe – we’re safe in our western worlds. We have 'normal' beliefs that fit in with others. We're okay, Jack. So why should we care about a bunch of people miles away from us? I'll tell you why - any one person who is denied the right to be a human being is one person too many. No one is any better than any one else and to shut up and allow it to happen is just wrong. I’m not one to shut up.

This image of China doesn't gel with the smiling happy faces we saw at the Olympics does it? China - you should be ashamed of your appalling human rights record and lack of respect for your citizens.

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Text me baby one more time…

I had the Bold and the Beautiful on TV – it comes on before the news – and Brooke and Ridge were all angst ridden and emotional – as always – they were breaking up - again - and he was marrying several times removed ex-wife Taylor…why? I don’t know but it was about time for him to marry someone else and then dump her and go back to Brooke – actually when you think about it – it’s almost the perfect romantic relationship because Brooke and Ridge always know they’ll be together…at some stage…eventually…anyway, so they were all tense and dramatic sending each other overwrought, desperately romantic messages via cell phone text messaging and I thought why don’t you just go and see each other and get all this angst ridden crap over and done with. Yes, yes, I know it’s a soap opera and I know its all about tension but honestly…if you had a friend who was carrying on like this wouldn’t you tell her to pull her head in? Text messages do not make for a meaningful relationship.

Correct. I don’t care for text messages. Ring me. Talk to me with actual words and sound. And yeah, I have gone through that manic rush of hot, wild words of lust tapped out in a text message. They’re exciting at the time but once you see through the haze of lust, you know they’re not real. It’s a game isn’t it? Flirt - seduce – submit - and I believe if someone cannot say something to your face, so you can see their eyes, then to me the messages are not genuine. They’re fantasy and while fantasy is fun it’s not dependable or truthful or real. Just like Bold, there’s always an under story you don’t get in a text message.

Even in a romance book, with all the romantic fantasy, readers aren’t going to accept the hero communicating to the heroine through cute, short words on a screen. As a reader I’d be thinking – why the hell doesn’t her talk to her? What does he have to hide? What can’t he say to her face? What is he worried about giving away?

Isn’t it sad in this day and age that we rely on hastily, banged out phonetic variations of words sent from your phone to mine to express how we feel? Where’s the romance in that?

Text me baby one more time? Hmm…doesn’t have a ring to it does it?

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Back on deck…

…I felt pretty damn wonky yesterday so I took the day off work to de-wonky-fy. I went to the doctor and got a check up and the verdict was “I don’t know” and I said “yeah, you get that a lot at this time of year.” My half arsed opinion was I was just plain knackered. After that I got a call from Jason, the tattoo artist, who had finished drawing my latest tatt. He’s near the doc so I wandered on by to check it out. The tatt is beautiful. It’s a butterfly for my foot. When will this tatt madness stop? Stuffed if I know….anyway, that tatt gets done next Monday. Apparently a foot tattoo hurts like hell so no tap dancing Monday night then….

The bathroom renovator people come tomorrow. I have an old shower over a bath and after 10 years of Chez Amarinda occupancy I’m sick if it. So – whizz-bang-presto – it’s going because if I have to see the pukeable yellow – gad, I loathe yellow – bathtub one more time I will have a hissy fit. Because it’s all happening this week and its men who are doing it, I have had to remove every possible item a man could fall, drop, run-in to or stumble on – even things that are not even close to the bathroom. Men. They’re clumsy in a creative way that is impossible for a woman to fathom how transversing a simple path from A to B means they will trip over something that is on path N and not even anywhere near where they’re supposed to be. Men – strangely impossible beings that we seem to put up with. Women - we’re bloody stoic aren’t we?

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Living loud…

What do you think living out loud means?

- Is it the freedom to just be who the hell you are, with all your flaws and annoying idiosyncrasies, without worrying if someone likes you because the bottom line is you can only be who you are and not pander to others?

- Is it being daring and standing out and up and saying “bugger off, I don’t care if everyone else is doing it, it’s against everything I believe in, so I’m not.”

- Is it being at peace with yourself and knowing that you were never meant to be anyone else and that competing with others is just a waste of time?

- Is it about accepting that you may never be as beautiful or as smart as another and that’s okay because who wants to be like them? They can never be you.

I believe living out loud is all that but also being bold and different and ready to take risks knowing you’ll probably fall on your arse but what the hell – cellulite makes you rebound.

I also reckon EE Cummings got it right.

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Going Down Under…

Thigh High is released today at Ellora’s Cave. This book is full on Aussie – speech and characters – and it hasn’t been toned down or Americanized, as my books usually are, to fit into the market. How will it go? Stuffed if I know - but it was beaut fun to write.

Thigh High is basically about Aussies – the way we talk and think and carry on. We’re a straight forward mob. We say what we think and we make no apologies for being to the point. This – and our use of slang - often confuses other nationalities. We mean no harm. We are as you find us – casual, outspoken and always ready to take the piss (pull your leg). And yes, it’s true, all the men look like Hugh Jackman…would I lie to you?

Thigh High….the blurb…..

Fourteen years ago, Joe Patterson left the small outback town of Amberwarra Falls and broke Maz Adler’s heart. Now he’s back. Hotter and sexier than Maz remembered. It’s hard holding a grudge when you want to hold a luscious man tight against you and lick every hard, hot curve. But the man needs to be taught a lesson and Maz is the girl to do it.

Joe came back home for one reason. Maz. Problem is, Maz isn’t about to open her arms and allow him back into her life and her body. But Joe has a plan to seduce his lover and break down Maz’s resistance. His aim? Her total surrender. And he’s going to enjoy every hot, sweaty moment loving her under the Aussie sun.

Someone sent me this….it just cracked me up…

MEMO to Prime Minister Kevin Rudd and Tourism Australia: Please send more kangaroos to Australia's international airports.

”I, like every other stupid American, assumed the kangaroos would meet us at the airport and they would want to hug us as much as we wanted to hug them,” Bell said in an interview in Los Angeles.

”That's really the perspective we have here.

”Going there kind of opened my eyes that that's not the case.”

http://www.news.com.au/travel/story/0,28318,26217319-5014090,00.html/

Spoiler alert…I’m sorry to report there are no huggable kangaroos in Thigh High.

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It gets you in the boobs…

THE hot favourite to win the Miss Plastic title this weekend was forced to pull out of the competition after her breast implants landed her in hospital.

A friend said: 'She had not got used to the extra weight on top and her new hair extensions got in her eyes - she just lost her balance and tore a ligament in her foot badly.'

http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26197698-13762,00.html

OMG…I can completely relate to this…other than the fact I’m not blonde, not tall, not attractive nor do I have plastic parts nor hair extensions…but for that I completely understand the hopeful Miss Plastic’s dilemma. It’s almost like we are living the same life.

In the never ending madness called personal training, utilizing the theory that I will be able to kick major arse when I’m older, I have just discovered I have pecs. I know – I was stunned. I mean I knew men had them but the idea of pecs seemed kind of pointless on women as we have other stuff happening in the chest region. Anyway, I have been lifting weights under the command of the lovely Hugh – my PT. I said to him “my upper chest is killing me.” I indicated where. He said they were my pecs and he indicated he was exceptionally happy about this as personal trainers think pain is good. Pain is bad to the jaded and slothful such as myself. Sure, you’re burning fat into muscle but like the Miss Plastic wannabe, it gets you in the boobs.

Pecs are apparently just above your boobs and all women have these muscles but it’s only when you’re in pain do you realize what the hell they are. I took my bra off today and staggered. Oh the freaking pain. I was scared I would fall forward and trip over when my strained pec muscles nearly collapsed under the weight of holding my boobs up. I feel this makes me completely simpatico with the Miss Plastics of the world. I, short, overweight, non-blonde, only one dimple and crooked lipped, can understand my plastic sister’s torture.

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Okay…

…so I can tell you there is absolutely no point going to see your doctor and demanding menopause. I’m not saying don’t do it because it is always very cathartic taking a stand and delivering a stunning speech declaring your needs and expectations. I was quite captivated by my “give me menopause or give me death” speech. Yes, it was a tad dramatic because I wasn’t planning on the ‘give me death’ bit but it sounded good at the time. I was in the zone. I would like to blame it purely on hormones but I think it’s a genetic thing. Jones women are just like that when they want something. Anyway, Fairy floss, my Doctor, so called because she’s very calm and ethereal, shook her head and said ‘you’re too young and menopause could be years away.’ How deflating…where do you go after that? It totally ruined my moment…

So after being totally bummed by this I decided to get a foot tattoo. Why? Why not? If I can’t have menopause now, I can have a tattoo. No, it doesn’t have to make sense but what does in life? Hoping you are the same.

I'm here today yakking...

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Size me not…

CURVY women have no place on the catwalk, iconic German fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld was quoted as saying, after a magazine said it was banning skinny models in favour of "real women".

"No one wants to see curvy women," Lagerfeld was quoted as saying on the website of news magazine Focus yesterday.
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,27574,26197025-23109,00.html

I heard this on the radio this morning as I was driving to work and my first thought was ‘what a wanker’ and why are we even listening to a nong like this? Why are we allowing him to dictate fashion when clearly he appears to have no idea what a woman looks like.

I don’t know about you but practically every woman I know has curves – some in abundance. We have arses and boobs and hips. It’s what makes us women. I don’t think fashion designers quite understand that. No woman I know is a stick figure. To say ‘No one wants to see curvy women’ is a wild overstatement with no basis in fact. I’m happy he has an opinion however men like this perpetuate anorexia, bulimia and depression. They pick at a woman’s self esteem until she believes she is ugly. No woman could measure up to the ideal of perpetually thin and beautiful. It’s not possible.

The comment I get most from my books? Readers like that the heroines are not small, waif like creatures. They’re not size 2 – what a ridiculous measurement – and while the heroines would maybe like to lose some pounds, they’re not going to fall apart if that doesn’t happen. They’re fit, strong and healthy. They’re smart and their independent regardless of what size they are.

Size is what you make it – do not allow someone to dictate your happiness or slap at your pride. If you feel good, you look good regardless what the label says. Beauty is all about confidence.

So I say to men like this, get into the 21st century, sunshine. Look at the women in the street. They ain’t stick figures.

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Back off Betty...

I believe the world is broken up into two different types of people. Black and white? No. Tall and short? No again. Fat and thin? Nope – they’re all irrelevant things to do with appearance. Only a dipstick judges another on how they look. No - the world is broken up into people who hug and those who wonder why the hell you’re touching them….do I know you?

Today at work someone said to me that they ‘needed a hug’ and looked at me expectantly. I looked at them like they were mad. ‘Wrong person to say that to. I’m not a person who randomly hugs people. You have to mean something for me to do that. I don’t get the whole ‘I need a hug deal’ by strangers. Something went wrong? I’m sorry to hear that. By all means whine, bitch and moan about it. It’s you’re inalienable right to do so – hell I’ll join you or help you plot your revenge - but then suck it up and move on without all the touchy feely needy crap.

Why did this person need a hug? They ‘hate Mondays’. Well, holy frig – stand in the I-frigging-cannot-stand-pukeable-horrible-Monday-line behind me – or better still go and do what sensible people do - buy an extra strong bucket of caffeine – I don’t get decaf at all – what a waste of money – and sit at your desk and refuse to speak to anyone until you have an equal ratio of blood to coffee in your veins, have read all your personal emails and found spiritual solace in caffeine overload.

You know, by all means go and hug people but don’t expect everyone else is going to want to do it. And what annoys me is that if you don’t want to hug someone people think your being horrible. Ah, no ­- I just don’t want someone I don’t know invading my personal body space nor do I want to hold hands and sing kumbaya with you because you broke a fingernail. You do what you have to in order to get through life, as will I, but keep your hugs to yourself. To me a hug is given in free will and not because you have no other choice and not on demand. Making others feel awkward to make yourself feel better is just wrong.

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Of princes, piercings and penises…

So I spent some time on the weekend researching Prince Albert for the book I’m almost finished writing. No, no, I’m not that fast a writer. I started this one a while ago and got side tracked on other projects – I’ve just come back to it now. Thankfully, there’s not much to finish on it.

Anyway – Prince Albert – yes, correct - he was married to Queen Victoria in one of those inter-bred marriages that all monarchies did back then to assure power, keep it all in the family and not to have some nasty non royal type person think they could wear a crown. Oh puke – commoners. Hence why lots of monarchies crashed and burned and the ones we have today – apart from the Danish one – an Aussie girl is princess there and she has amazing class, as all Aussies do – are always in the tabloids and considered somewhat of a joke.

But back to Prince Albert – no, I wasn’t researching the actual Prince type person per se – it was more about genital piercing. See here – that is if you’re not shocked easily. Otherwise don’t look. Why the sudden interest in genital piercing for my hero? I had a chat to someone who has it – actually multiple genital piercing. Youch! I saw a video on that. And no, I declined to look at his piercings. ‘Seen one penis– seen ‘em all regardless of the hardware that bedecks them. But the piercing aspect – the whys and wherefores - interested me and it fitted in with the story I was writing.

The life of writer is never boring…people will tell you their deepest secrets. Why? ‘Not sure. Maybe they think anyone who writes erotic romance is unshockable. Maybe they just want to tell someone stuff…I’ll always listen… go on…tell me…

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Ha-ha you’re screwed…

Have you ever noticed on TV shows where an “imminent explosion” is about to happen that the female recording announcing the “imminent explosion in three minutes” sounds like she’s quite pleased she is counting down to doom. I was writing and half listening to the end of a TV show before the news came on and this woman was doing the countdown and the hero and heroine were desperately trying to adapt a shoe lace - or something - into a lasso to rope around a switch that they could pull down to stop the imminent destruction happening. As they were doing this the snotty sounding recording kept counting down with great glee. I know it’s a supposed to be a recording and – duh - it’s not real but why do you think she sounds so happy and a tad vindicated that she is getting the chance to be the last possible voice the hero and heroine hear? She’s hardly soothing or helpful with her supercilious tone announcing “imminent explosion” as every 30 seconds passes. How can anyone tie a decent shoe lace lasso with that cow counting down? Why does she want them imminently exploding? Is she hormonal?

You listen next time when that stroppy dame starts counting down. She seems awfully pleased with herself but the thing is if the place blows up – she’ll blow up too.

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Saturday in Oz...

...doing the usual Saturday stuff...whatever you're doing may it be more interesting....

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Crazy, sexy moment…

I have to admit I’m a sucker for a really good flirtatious male. There is something about a smooth talking man who has the gift of the gab who can amuse you with his words. I like the give and take with such a man. It’s fun and charming because you know it’s never serious. The moment you think it is – you’re in trouble. My theory? Flirtatious men have something to hide.

What the? How do I come to that conclusion? Have you ever noticed that when you get passed the simple, sweet, sexy silliness of your banter with a flirt that the serious stuff tends to stop a flirty man in his tracks? That's because you’re no longer being as crazy as he is and he’s not sure what to do or say. Don’t you wonder what goes on in a flirt’s mind when it all gets serious? How hard would it be to be a flirt? They’re always on stage, looking for fun and good times but hiding who they really are. Yes, we all hide stuff, but I believe flirts do so more than anyone else.

But, despite that – I love a good male flirt. They ask for nothing but one crazy, sexy moment with you. And you know what? That’s okay. Maybe that’s why flirts are exciting and exist. You’re both being wild and out of control, knowing that in the end nothing will come from it. Do you think flirts ever really settle down faithfully with the one woman forever? Me? Not the ones I know. They love women. It’s like a hobby to them. Monogamy is just a word on the scrabble board to them.

Flirts – I don’t believe a word they say but I love ‘em. Try one today but just remember he’s not a keeper.

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Mail me…

...’got an email from a male friend - let’s call him X. He read yesterday's blog about men being as easy to understand as Chinese is to a non Chinese speaker. His response?

“What do women want? Women are impossible to deal with - especially you.”

Oh, you sweet talker you. I'm not impossible. I'm just plain difficult. There's a difference. Difficult is worth the effort if you're smart enough. Anyway - what do women want? Well, I can of course only speak for myself but here's my response to the questions that I asked those men on yesterday's blog…

- Respect - talk to women - not at them or down to them. You want a woman to listen? Then pay attention to her….and by that I don’t mean her breasts.
- While we admire strength - we don’t think less of a man for momentary weakness. We prefer that kind of honesty to dumb arsed male bravado. Be real.
- Goals – yeah we have ‘em but they’re not the be all and end all of our lives. We’re flexible. We’ll adapt to circumstance – but do not for one second think we have forgotten what out goals are.
- Romance verses sex? We want both. Why? Because we deserve both and we don’t have to justify it.
- What do we look for in a man? Humour, intelligence and the ability to be as adaptable as we are. We’re not looking for perfection. We want reality – flaws and all. A woman makes a man better.
- Do we want forever? We want what we want for how ever long we want it.

See? Women are verrrrry easy to understand.

Speaking of men…. I had a go at one today who has a penchant for calling women ‘lovey’ in that patronizing-pat-you-on-the-head-you’re-just-a-silly-little-girl way. He called me lovey. Oh, what an Idiot. Of all the people in all the gin joints in all the world to say that to. Needless to say I doubt he’ll be calling anyone ‘lovey’ for a while. Respect is everything. No one should ever accept patronization.

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Men…sooooo hard…

I sent my latest book off to my editor last night. I always forget how much work it takes to self edit…which is funny because I’m convinced most writers are blind to their faults and you only see how blind you are when the real edits come back.

Anyway, I had a moment where I got stuck in the story I was writing. This meant I literally came to a screaming halt as I tried to work out what to do. The plot was fine. The heroine was fine. It was the hero. He was being a silent pain in the arse. I couldn’t work out what the hell he wanted. That doesn’t happen often. However I stared at the flashing cursor on screen and thought 'what the hell do you want from her, sunshine?' I wanted this raw, primal man not this silent guy who just stood there and looked pretty but vague. It's not often I come up blank but this guy just had me wondering about him and men in general.

To work out where to go with the hero, I spoke to several of men I know. I asked them - what do men want? What is important to you? Is the whole goal thing significant? How essential is romance compared to sex? What characteristics do you want in a woman? Can you be less strong to allow a woman to be stronger? Does female strength scare a man? Do you want forever? What do you want?” The most common responses? “Don’t know.” “Not sure.” “You’re not going to put me in your book are you?” Uh huh...no wonder we read romance books, generally written by women, as women know what they and other women want in a man. We know what we need and we’ll say it and maybe it will be awkward and sudden but damn it we don’t piss around like men do. Really it’s a wonder why any men get married or last in long term relationships at all.

Men - wonderful creatures but then so are parakeets.

New Cover…

Yes, once more the cover gods smiled on me. This book is out in November with Whiskey Creek Torrid….and it’s had reviews already…bizarre world…

With hot love scenes, a mystery to be unravelled, and intense emotion jumping off practically every page, what's not to like about Attitude Angel? The word flow is easy to follow, with sarcastic whit and charm filling the pages. Attitude Angel will make you laugh, make you believe in hope, and most of all will make you remember how wonderful first love is... Attitude Angel has everything a good book should - and then some.
http://www.thenovelblog.com/tnbReviews.aspx?id=1153

Amarinda Jones has written a witty and wonderful holiday story, with romance and hot steamy sex. The characters are fun to read, and the journey from Attitude Angel to something more for David is so much fun. And Lucy is written with such humor and laughter, mixed with her pain, that I laughed at the antics, agreed with some of Lucy’s insights for the holiday season, and ultimately, I fell in love with both of them. This is an excellent, if non-traditional, holiday story, and one I thoroughly enjoyed.
http://www.longandshortreviews.com

I always think it’s good to know you don’t suck completely…

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Knackered....

...tired, stuffed...back tomorrow - have a peceful day.

*********************************
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Push it...

So, I’ve almost finished writing the next book and the one thing that strikes me the most is that every single character has an agenda – more so than any other book I have written. I never planned it that way but there it is. Every one of them has a plan to get what they want. Thankfully, those plans all manage to interlock. Go figure. Occasionally I can do this writer gig correctly. Sometimes you can be in the writer zone and it all comes together. Sometimes you don’t have a bloody clue. It’s a hit and miss business. Words and ideas tumble out and you can’t write them fast enough. Other times you stare at the screen and think ‘why am I doing this again?’ But there’s an agenda there that keeps me motivated.

Like characters in a book, everyone I know has an agenda. Yes, yes, I’m sure there are the pure-hearted among us who will say “oh no not me. I’m too nice.” The less pure-hearted like myself would respond with ‘bullshite – you have an agenda and niceness is a front for hiding your real emotions. You have an agenda - you just won’t name it publicly.’ What is it about announcing what you want and being ruthless and persistent to get it? If you’re not hurting anyone else then why is determination to succeed a bad thing? It often amuses when people say ‘X has an agenda.’ They say it like it’s a bad thing. To me, an agenda equates to a goal and we’re always told to have goals and try to attain them. Are goals more acceptable than agendas?

‘Got an agenda? Excellent? Do you ruthlessly plan to pursue it? Better still. Push it to the max. Life is short. Make sure you get what you can with what talents you have. The one person you can rely on the most is yourself. Only you know how far you will go and what measures you will take to succeed. And those who worry about your agenda? That’s their problem.

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To thine own self be fair dinkum…

Talented erotic romance writer Ashley Ladd wrote a comment on my ‘what does a writer look like’ post that reminded me of the song below. I have a terrible inability to conform to things. Maybe it’s because I’m an Aussie and we tend to go against the rules. Maybe I just don’t believe looks are as important as the person or what they write or say. I think we all need to be reminded of that. Thanks Ash.

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Happy for now…

‘Had a discussion, during the tension of month end accounting – yawn, boring, who gives a crap – about happily ever after. A friend emailed me after reading one of my books. She was like ‘do you actually believe in this happily ever after stuff you’re writing?’ Do I? No. I believe in happy for now and let’s see what happens later.

While you know the hero and heroine, or variations of, are going to get together in the end, I believe most readers know that if it was real life they’re going to get pissed off with each other and at some stage one of them is going to be sleeping on the sofa – not the heroine – because real women have enough smarts to make the male do it.

Let’s face it, no romance is all happy and all smooth. The day to day is hard bloody work let alone wondering about forever. The beauty of romance books is a glimpse inside someone else’s life. It’s about the struggle and the passion and the moment when two people realize that they cannot live without this other person in it. That’s why we read romance. That’s why we watch the Bachelor or the Bachelorette or romance movies. We want to read or see the moment when someone goes – ‘oh, duh, he/she is the one for me. I cannot let them go.’ Will they mess it up and make mistakes after ‘the end’? Oh hell yeah. We know that. But it’s the journey that they’ve taken that we’re interested in. What they do afterwards is up to them. It’s all about ‘happy for now.’

Click on below. This to me is the quintessential love song. Why? Listen to the lyrics. Two people not sure what the hell they are doing – yet eventually they are going to get together. Maybe it will take a while but they’ll get there. It’s about the reality of love. It’s not an easy. It’s a game. It’s about who surrenders to the inevitable first….gotta’ love that…



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Confront me not...

The other night an Aussie current affairs show did a segment on a drunken woman driving with her kids. Now the woman in question was an actress pretending to be drunk and about to drive her kids home from shopping or wherever. The show wanted to see if any passerbys would intervene and stop her from driving away with her kids. She was lurching everywhere and doing a really good act of being completely legless (drunk). Did many people stop and confront the woman? Not many and some only after someone else had. Apparently, psychological surveys show most people do not want to get involved because they hate confrontation - but will join in if someone does the confronting first. What this means if no one says anything most people would do stuff all to correct a situation that they know is wrong.

Why is that? Are we scared to meet a fight or stand up for our rights? Is it just easier to back away, pissed off and angry, thinking ‘oh, what I could have said.’ Why don’t we just say it? If we are that affronted or concerned then why don’t we stand up for ourselves and others? Why do we wait to see what other people do? Now, I don’t include myself in this. Why? Because it’s genetically impossible for any of my kin to accept crap or allow others to. Sure, you’re right, sometimes it’s pointless to take someone on who has more power than you. And yeah, sometimes you don’t win…but it’s the trying that counts. It’s the belief that you are as good as anyone else that matters – and all of you are. It’s the inbred knowledge that you cannot let someone be treated badly when you could have said something to stop it.

A woman at work was bitching about another in the ladies loos (ladies toilets). It’s an excellent place for gossip, info and bitchery. I said to her ‘put up or shut up.’ Her response ‘Oh no, I hate confrontation.’ Well, there’s your answer. If you do nothing to change a situation or your lot in life because you’re worried about what someone else thinks then whose fault is it?

“In the confrontation between the stream and the rock, the stream always wins. Not through strength, but through persistence.”

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What does a writer look like?

Answer? Stuffed if I know. That’s Aussie speak for "Gee golly, I'm unsure of the answer."

Why do I ask? Well, I was chatting to hot erotic romance writer Anny Cook about an upcoming convention that she is attending and the amount of work needed to look a certain way...to look like a writer. Hmm....this confused me somewhat because I assumed other then being clean and neat - having your hair combed and your shoes on the right feet - was all that was required. You know, the whole be yourself thing. Anny brought up something that I had not thought of - some people expect writers to look ‘like a writer’. Now this had me thinking...what does a writer look like?

I went to a convention in Melbourne at the start of the year. We're a casual, relaxed, take-us-as-you-find-us lot in Australia. I don't recall anyone getting all glammed up at the Melbourne gig so I'm thinking it's a cultural perception rather than a law that a writer must look a certain way.

So, are we talking tiaras and feather boas? Spangly, sparkling outfits to catch a readers eye so they remember you were the one who blinded them in your gold sequins? Do you have to look like your genre? How does one look like romance? Horror? Sci-fi? How do you know what will appeal to a wide range of readers with vast tastes and opinions or even if or what their preconceived notion of a writer is? Most exhausting…I say just concentrate on getting your shoes on the correct feet and the rest will follow.

It would be sad to think it's about how expensive or tailored or glamorous your clothes are because your clothes don’t write the books. I also think readers are smarter than that. They would want to meet the author of a book not the author’s clothes. And let's face it, especially in this economic climate, are we so superficial that we measure someone on how they look? I understand the interest to put a face to a name, to see if the person speaks as he or she writes. I get that. I doubt people really care what label you’re wearing or if you hair is the latest style...again maybe that’s just an Aussie thing? To thine own self be fair dinkum. (true)

So, if anyone can advise what a writer looks like I would appreciate it. Yeah, I get the whole smoke and mirrors thing. I do. But wouldn’t you rather someone true and realistic who will speak to you about writing and books then a tarted up kewpie doll who is after your money and will do whatever they have to in order to beat another writer to your book dollars? Not that that happens of course…

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