Tails up, Storm Troopers! I’m Storm, you’re awesome, and this is Typing With Wet Paws.
pizza and me keeping each other warm
Mama Anna went to her first improv class in many cats last night, and she loved it and is going back next week. According to her, there were zero cats there, but she had fun otherwise. She also was working on her next project with Aunt Melva before and after class, and today, she worked on cover design for Aunt Melva’s nonfiction project. Safe to say there is stuff going on around here. In case you were wondering, I sat on the pizza box for about an hour. That’s how comfy Koolio keeps us here. The flowery thing behind me is Aunt Linda in her new dress. she looks nice.
Speaking of nice, I have a new toy. It has catnip in it and my humans tell me that Bigger Sister Olivia and Biggest Brother Ginger both loved this toy. Big Sister Skye was a straight edge kitty and did not indulge in catnip. This one was so nippy that I smelled it before it was even out of the packaging and came from another room to yell at Mama Anna to tell her that was mine and I needed it right away. Thankfully, she understood and opened it on the big bed so she and Aunt Linda could both watch me play with it. Papa is off at work. Suffice it to say I love this toy. It is great. I will be playing with it a lot.
10/10 would nip again
Mama Anna and I binged a show on Netflix the other night. It is called The Survivors, and it is Australian. At first, she thought it was going to be some kind of zombie or adventure story. She likes both of those kinds of stories, but this show is not one of them. It is a drama, which Mama Anna also loves, and one of the characters appears to have some form of dementia, which she knows because of some people in her life. She says the representation there was excellent, both of the person with dementia and their caregiver. There was also a story about a missing person and an unalived person and some caves in the ocean. It also had two timelines, and she really, really likes two timelines.
She also finished The Survivor Wants to Die at the End, by Adam Silvera. It is number three in the Death-Cast series and she wants the next one right now, please and thank you, but it is not out yet. I suggested she read something else. Reading got hard again, but she is working on that. In case you want to read this series, she says it is one hundred percent a read in order series. I don’t know what book she will pick next, but probably a historical romance.
Oh wait. She is reading Tears of the Wolf, by Elisabeth Wheatley. It is a fantasy romance but heavily Viking-flavored. If you are new to this author’s books, this is a good place to start. She still wants to read a historical romance, so I will keep you updated on that.
Back in 2013, I picked up Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, because I was intrigued by the concept of the protagonist being a fanfic writer. I have ficced a few things in my day, so wanted to see how this would play out in an actual novel. Not only did I end up liking the book (and more by Rowell) but that started on me reading YA novels for the first time since I was a young adult myself. There is a bit of time in between those two things.
From there, I read more Rowell and beyond that, more YA. A lot of that has had LGBTQ+ flavor, be it the writer, protagonists, supporting characters, or all of the above. I’ve been wanting to make a post with YA recommendations for a while now (also classic historical romance, but that’s another story (pun intended.) Since we are in Pride month, I figure that’s a good place to start. I can definitely recommend other YA in the future. Believe it or not, there are quite a few YA novels that use fandoms as a large part of the plot, and you know I grab those as soon as I see them.
Whittling this down to five choices has been hard. I do have a larger list, which I can post later. For now, if I could only take five such books to a desert island, these would be the ones, in no particular order.
Told out of chronological order, we get to piece together the events that led up to Nathan, aka Nate, being violently attacked by his best friend, Cam. Heartfelt, angsty, taking an unflinching look at the intersectionality of Christianity and queerness (Nate is both) and what a battlefield adolescence can be for a lot of people. I also highly recommend Mr. Smedley’s other novel, Tonight ,We Rule the World (unrelated) A list of trigger warnings for both books can be found on the author’s site here.
For this one, I will let my Goodreads review do all the talking:
In some alternate universe, I am still reading this book. In some alternate universe, Griffin and Theo and Jackson and Wade are together, in some configuration, as the complete squad. Heck, Jackson could pull in Annika and Veronika, though the gals are supporting characters, but that’s how relationships go sometimes.
Griffin and Theo and Wade were best friends, until Griffin and Theo came out to each other, at the same time. Griffin and Theo dated until Theo left for college on the opposite coast, but still figured they’d be endgame…until Theo met Jackson. Still, they were young, they had time to find their way back to each other…until Theo drowned, sending both Griffin and Wade spinning out of control, and toward each other. Griffin and Jackson should hate each other, but they both love (present tense) Theo, so that’s something, isn’t it?
It is something, but exactly what it is would be telling, and that’s not even counting the important part of the puzzle Wade has been holding onto all this time.
Emotional, engaging, and utterly filled with raw emotion, this book is a touching tale of friendship, first love, grief, and the new normal
This is one of the most raw, affecting, and poignant descriptions of grief I have read in a long time. I will likely write a proper review later, but I did read this book in one sitting. Quick read, and an extremely effective one, stark and cold as a lonely winter, but full of the warmth that comes from friendship and memory, with the sparkle of new beginnings.
I don’t want to think about this book right now, as I want to feel it a while longer. It’s one of those books, an unexpected treat wrapped around the nothingness and crushing weight of loss, the madness that comes in its wake, and the promise of a new normal.
I have indeed thought more about this book but have not written a proper review, but OOF. Our protagonist, Marin, left California with the clothes on her back to go to college on the East Coast. Now it’s Christmas break, and Marin is not going home. She is not going to her roommate’s home. She is staying in the dorm, the only student doing so, her only human companionship a visit from her best friend, Mabel, which means facing everything that made her flee like her life was on fire. To be fair, it kind of was. Nina LaCour wraps this all up in achingly beautiful prose. Be prepared for gut punches and a happy cry at the end.
Dual timelines. Two queer women, sixty years apart, and the pulp novels that tie them together. Once again, I need to write a fuller review, but here’s this for now:
Better review coming later, as I want to hold onto the feeling of having read this book for a while before sharing my impressions, but I knew I had to read it as soon as I first saw the title. Modern day Abby discovers the world of 1950s lesbian pulp fiction, and sets off on a quest to not only write her own novel in the genre, but discover what happened to the author of her favorite pulp novel, who disappeared after only one release. That alone makes for an interesting storyline, but when Robin Talley adds the second point of view, that of the abovementioned author, and that author’s own entrée into the world of the pulps, and weaves in the novels both women write, what we get is a nuanced story on a greater scale.
This book has a lot of what I love best about historical fiction with romantic elements. There may not always be a happily ever after for the couples involved (especially f/f couples in the 1950s) but there is love, and the history directly impacts the relationships of all couples, in both timelines. Though I don’t know much about this area of history, the story, and characters, spurred me to research and learn more about the era and people that created this branch of pulp fiction. That research led me to pick up on some of the Easter eggs (I am sure there are more) sprinkled throughout, referencing real life components of the genre and its time.
Update: Yep. Buying my own copy to annotate. Talley gets it right about the impact a genre can have on a writer.
This feels like cheating, as it’s not a novel but a short story collection, but if I could have only one Levithan, it would be this one. Very, very, very short review on this one, which I will let stand, as my advice is to go in blind.
I am head over heels in love with the way David Levithan uses language and how he taps into the raw, bleeding hearts of young lovers. Some of these loves turn out well, some don’t, and every point in between, but this is an unforgettable collection that will stay with you long after your first read.
My favorite story in this collection is “Breaking and Entering.” I don’t think I have healed fully yet from that one, and I can identify with both characters.
~*~
Five books is, of course, only scratching the surface. Keen observers will notice this list skews heavily toward emotional and angsty, though that is not at all the only option for YA, or even for the authors listed here.
Welp, it’s March. Not quite winter, not quite spring. Time for my and Real-Life Romance Hero’s seasonal depressions to pass each other on the way in (mine) and out (his.) In the before times, it has meant Conference Season, the time of year when Melva and I would make the trip to the New England RWA chapter’s annual conference. The trip there was a four-hour deal; two hours in Housemate’s car to meet up with Melva a couple of states over, and then two more hours in the Melvamobile to get to the actual conference. We always have a great time on these trips, to and from, shooting ideas back and forth. We are only half joking when we talk about renting an RV and driving cross country until we have a first draft.
March writing planner before the pen
I adore everything about conference season. Even packing for the occasion means I get to give special attention to clothes, shoes, makeup, etc (things I love anyway) and it never hurts to include non-perishable safe foods because I have food allergies and aversions. If it turns out that I can’t eat at dinner (it’s happened) I know there’s food in the room. I love getting the tote bag at registration, stuffed with swag, which I must immediately inspect. Bookmarks, stickers, postcards, pens (Hannah Howell’s purple pens are a highly prized commodity, and the only promo pen I have tracked down to find the nakey version in the wild – Pentel RSVP.) Sometimes there will be sweet snacks, and maybe even books. There will be more of the above at multiple places throughout the weekend.
Mealtimes mean a book on one’s seat and swag on the table. Usually a raffle for the centerpiece. If you have read Chasing Prince Charming, there really was a lollipop centerpiece. This is where “so, what do you write?” is a standard icebreaker. Be aware you may be asking this of a Big Name, but they will usually be gracious. This is where a simple answer to “what’s your favorite book?” means the asker will command the person sitting next to you to switch seats with them, because you have the same favorite book, or when one’s seatmate whips out their Kindle to show that they are in fact reading your latest release right now. That is a fabulous feeling, and one I can very well get used to as a regular event.
If five years between siblings in birth order means the new kid is also a firstborn, and five years between releases means being a new author again, what does five years between conferences mean? I’m assuming it means the whole thing being new again, at least in part. No doubt, there will be changes. Many of the RWA chapters, including the NERWA, have disbanded, so conferences may be run by different groups, though still dedicated to romance.
I don’t think Romantasy was a word back then in the before times. Then again, Romantica maybe still was a word. Possibly. I am not sure. Been a while since I have heard that term. There’s e-books, indie books, Bridgerton made it to Netflix. Dark Romance is a thing. The world is basically on fire, so we absolutely need romance novels to get us through. (As readers of other genres need theirs; to each, thankfully, their own.) We don’t have Romantic Times anymore, but we do have Book Tok and Book Tube. It’s always changing.
Since I am still a member of the RWA, I do get their monthly newsletter and it does list upcoming conferences. I live in NY now, not CT, so there are probably other gatherings closer to me that I could consider. I miss the camaraderie, the support, and the talking of shop. I even miss the pitch sessions (get an agent or editor to be your captive audience for a full eight minutes) and definitely the book fair. I miss the workshops the most, not only as an attendee, but, a few times now, as a co-presenter. I miss hanging out in the hotel lobby with writer friends I only see when we gather like this, far past the hour that we should. I miss the breakfasts most out of all the meals, because I am an extroverted morning person, and I love breakfast. Give me a bottomless source of tea, and it is extroverted morning person Christmas. Stay in an entire hotel full of people who love to do what I love to do? Sign. Me. Up. Right. Now.
There is probably some virtual version of this, which I would be happy to do from home in my comfy robe with my own bottomless supply of tea. There is nothing stopping me from setting up video chats with other writer friends (seriously, Last Call Girls, DM me.) and commune thusly.
I can see I am rambling here, and there is a School Spirits season finale waiting for me, so I need to get to that. Have you ever been to a writers’ or readers’ conference? Would you like to go? Are you watching School Spirits? Yap at me in the comments, so we can discuss. I’ll even put a book on your chair.
Two days away from March, and I am certain that I did not sign off on this. For many years, March meant conference season. I think it always will, though through various events, finding romance writer conferences is not as easy as it was before. I do plan on getting back on that particular horse. Most likely, when I do, everything will snap back into place and I’ll wonder why I waited so long, blah blah blah.
Anyway. March. March is that place between winter and spring. In like a lion, out like a lamb, or the other way around. We’ll see soon enough.
Knock me over with a feather, because I am ahead of schedule on my reading goal for this year. Last night, I jumped on the release of Relentless, by Bertrice Small and Thomas Small, as soon as I knew it was out, and devoured it in one sitting. Not a novel, not historical romance, but part biography, part memoir, part poetry, short stories, and a never before published novella. I did not make a dent in my sleep debt last night, but I have no regrets. Dare I say I even feel encouraged that I can get myself back on that horse and keep moving forward.
This week, I set the goal that I have to write actual English words in manuscript format for A Heart Most Ardent, the second novella in my Ravenwood series. Only a couple more boxes to tick before I can release A Heart Most Errant, so definitely time to be writing-writing the next one. Her Last First Kiss has also been tapping me on the shoulder and looking at me over whatever document it is currently reading. This means I am going to be hopping from medieval to Georgian to contemporary times, and I am looking forward to it.
Melva has finished her edits on Drama King, plus a couple of additions. I can’t want to get eyes on that, and then we start the process on that one. The world of indie publishing couldn’t be more different from the traditional publishing world of the first wave of historical romance. If I had some holodeck time (TNG Trekker, yep) I likely would have a program where I was an up-and-coming author in the 70s/80s/early 90s in the historical romance realm. A weekend on Fantasy Island would also suffice, although things would go completely pear-shaped on that one, so maybe not. I am nothing if not genre-savvy.
The TV hangover from Z Nation continues. Then again, there is a release date in sight for Dead City, season two, and new School Spirits tomorrow, plus Yellowjackets on Friday. Do I sound like a cranky old lady when I reminisce about fixed seasons for television? Maybe? Do I care? No. Do I continue to sail my favorite ships (relationships) even if they are not canon and the property is now decades old? Abso-fluffing-lutely. No standout ships for Z Nation, oddly enough, though I am delighted that the actors who played Sarge and 10k got married in real life. Oh wait, Citizen Z and Kaya. Also, Warren got three romances, so there is kissing.
That’s enough of a ramble for today. March means a return to a more consistent blogging schedule, so I am taking advantage of the wiggle room I have left. Time to wrestle with the printer, which likes to tell me it’s offline when it isn’t, but I am not above unplugging it and restarting the laptop to get it back in line. Also time to pop in the earbuds and listen to an audiobook while carrying out domestic warrior queen duties, because I am all about filling the well and keeping it filled.
Well, it’s February. Normally, this is the month that even voices that don’t normally talk about romance novels, talk about romance novels. This year, the world is kind of….:sucks in deep breath: which is a sign that we need romance novels now more than ever. I am definitely up for doing my part. “But, Anna,” you ask, “where do the zombies come in?” Usually through the door. Sorry, sorry, I could not resist, but I do have a real reason.
Z Nation is my current watch, more than a lighter and funnier version of The Walking Dead (the absolute tippity top of zombie shows, IMO) or at least that’s my takeaway from midway through the first of five seasons, where I am now. I watched both seasons of the prequel show, Black Summer, which had a much more serious tone, and originally passed on this show because I wasn’t sure the jokes would jibe with the zombie apocalypse, but that vanished as soon as I saw multiple zombies taken out by the Liberty Bell (yes, that one) and I am now fully on board. Yes, I checked the wiki, and the dog is okay.
What’s better than zombies? British zombies, or as they are called in this series, Partially Deceased Syndrome Sufferers. In short, they found a cure, and the former infected are sent back to their homes, medicated and ready to mingle…if society is ready for them, which they often are not. Our protagonist, Kieran, even finds the opposition in his own home, as his sister is part of the Human Volunteer Force, dedicated to getting rid of the, well, you know. This time we are in a small rural village in the north of England. The second season hangs on a cliffhanger (with two romances in the balance) but I used my writer powers to decided what happened if I were in charge, so the ending in my head is satisfactory.
Anna. Zombies, and how they relate to romance writing? I’m getting there. The idea for what would eventually be the first of my Ravenwood series, A Heart Most Errant, came from the cover of the dearly departed Romantic Times magazine, which advertised, in two separate articles, medieval romance and post-apocalyptic romance. My brain immediately wanted to marry the two, and what says “historical end of the world” more than a deadly disease that slapped Europe upside the head three times in twenty years? Plus, there was a flood the year after the last plague ended, so we are talking giant paradigm shifts here.
I would check the spine of this book to see if it was marketed as historical romance or historical fiction, but I don’t have a physical copy, so I am going on my own impression and say it’s straddling the divide. I am fine with that. Early Federal period, starting in Westchester, NY, about two generations removed from the people in the first book of the duology, and Our Heroine is now in search of her hubby who went to the frontier to recover from economic ruin. I’m optimistic that she’ll find him, and that’s enough to keep me going.
Anna. There. Were. No. Zom. Bies. In. That. Book.
Okay, okay, I know. I’m getting there. If I had to pick a favorite horror creature, right now, it would be zombies. Not only do I relate to shambling in a stupor looking for sustenance (I call that morning) but the idea of an antagonist that Keeps On Coming is one I can easily comprehend. Also, watching Our Heroes put them down does have a certain measure of catharsis to it. Protagonists who have to fight their way through opposition that keeps coming and can’t be reasoned with or even communicated with (unless one is Murphy from Z Nation) that’s something I can get behind. Our protagonists do what they have to do to survive, make it to the next day, and protect the ones they love.
Right now, for Richard and Cecilia, the hero and heroine of Ravenwood #2, A Heart Most Ardent, that means marrying a total stranger. Richard’s remote country estate survived the plague fairly well, but he did lose his first wife, leaving no children. Cecilia also lost her husband to the plague, as well as her son, and now must plan a future for herself and her young daughter. How do two people go from not knowing the other exists, to marriage, and then to love? Well, that’s the story, isn’t it? All of my favorite zombie tales have total strangers coming together in unusual circumstances, to make a strong found family, so this fits right in with that.
While I’m doing this, Melva is giving Drama King a final once-over, so we can start the indie pub process with that as well. Picture an out of work British actor wallowing in his great failure, and an aggressively optimistic literary agent who is dedicated to advocating for true creative talent. Melvn and I have had great fun writing this successor to Chasing Prince Charming, and can’t wait to introduce you all to Kelly and Jack.
Which brings me to the other bit of news; there are going to be some changes to the blog. Not only will I be bringing MelvaandAnna.com over here so all my writing related content is all in one place, but I am also starting on my very first ambassadorship in social media, with abundance coach, photographer and all around awesome human being, Eryka Peskin. I’ve taken several of her programs as well as one on one calls and highly recommend her offerings, so I am excited to have a platform to spread the word. Oh, and she is not a zombie.
Storm’s Christmas tree is now the family tree, in the kitchen, so it is bottle brush tree for the desk. It rests on a decorative box that holds m y photo printing paper. I am feeling a lot better these days, though not one hundred percent. It’s the week before Christmas. I am not sure how that happened. No, actually, I do. I was sick for the two weeks I thought I would have, and I am salty about that. Nevertheless, I put my fairy lights up around my desk (more difficult when I don’t have a hutch, but it works.) I have another set that may go up around my reading nook.
Last night, I finished my re-read of We Are Okay, by Nina LaCour, which means I have met my Goodreads goal for 2024. It was hard going for a while there. I do wish it had been a higher number, but when I think how hard I fought to get to twenty-five books, that’s a good reframe and I am proud of myself. Fun fact, Marin, the protagonist of WAO, also found it difficult to read fiction after dealing with loss and depression. I felt seen there.
I count this as a Christmas book
Now the thing is to pick out a next paper book to read. That task still feels big. I don’t know what my 2025 goal will be, but 25 does feel like an appropriate number. A link to my year in books (so far) if anyone is interested in that, is here. I have a notebook packed with large sticky notes, to guide my future reading. More of a wine cellar inventory than a TBR though it is that as well.
Writing-wise, I am looking forward to the new year. The first quarter will see my first independent historical romance release. Do I wish this were a traditional publishing venture? Eh. It would be nice. I am also genre-savvy enough to know that this isn’t the best time for medievals in the trad pub world, though the readership for such is strong. I am also a new author yet again, as in new to indie publishing, new to medievals, and it’s been a while since my last release. As an indie author, I need to do all of the jobs normally left to the pros. It’s also exciting to try something new, and I do like having the final say in my decisions. We will see how that sorts out.
In the meantime, this is the week before Christmas. Housemate and I made the final round of online orders. I have some letters to write. Tomorrow is final day of in=person shopping. Real Life Romance Hero will be cooking for Christmas. We are doing stockings for the first time in years, which means buying a cat-scaled stocking for Storm’s use. No snow at the moment, but we have some days yet. I love the holiday notebook I set up to hold not only practical plans but diary entries on various holiday things; memories, preferences, observations, etc. I may want to do that for other holidays. We will see. In one week, we will be in the tucked-between week, my favorite week of the year, and then the new year comes, bringing all of the new planners and journals, always a huge event for the planner and journal community.
That’s about enough for today. I have laundry to put away, and family will be home in a matter of minutes. It feels good to have a blog entry written on the day I planned, rather than drawing an arrow to the day after. Hopefully there will be more of that this year.
We are now in the “ber” months -September, October, November, December, aka the last quarter of the year. My Goodreads goal for the year is forty books. I have read eighteen. Goodreads kindly reminded me that such a number means I am eleven books behind schedule. That’s disheartening. Not impossible, but disheartening.
Trigger warning: discussion of homelessness (past) beneath the image.
A lack of interest in reading was the red flag needed to talk to my doctor about this particular flavor of depression and got me into the hands of Wonderful Therapist. WT had some excellent insights about the lack-of-reading thing. Did I use reading as a distraction during our vagabond year? My brain immediately flashed back to finishing Deposing Nathan by Zack Smedley in the parking lot where we were then camped, Storm in her carrier next to me, as the other adults were at their jobs and my job was to guard the car and our stuff. Fabulous young adult novel, which I highly recommend, and it’s a landmark in this whole reading thing.
I also think about reading fast during the daytime when we were camped, because night would be long and light would not be in great supply. When we were in a room or Housemate’s Mom’s house, of course, I could read any time I wanted, and I did. I couldn’t have my books with me, and while I will always appreciate the library system and my Kindle, the relationship between a reader and their keepers is a special one. Mine are still in storage, safe, but at the back of the unit, so I kind of wave at them when we make a drive-by visit. Soon, hopefully, soon. Even with the Kindle, reading at night, I had to gauge the battery because if we were camped, there was only one time to charge it during the day and that charge had to last.
So, there’s stuff. Wonderful Therapist is helping me unpack it, which is good, and it is happening. It’s coming along. Slowly. I didn’t expect to be this far behind. I don’t want to move the goalposts yet, but if I’m not closer to on track by the end of October, then I will. i don’t want a smaller “body count” for my books this year, but A) nobody cares, and B ) healing happens on its own time.
I know there are things that work. Vintage historical romance. Blindly stumbling around in the figurative dark to cobble together the kind of reading journal that works for me. Right now, that is a traveler’s notebook insert where I can make notes as I read, and a different book where I print out covers of books I plan to read, all top-tier favorites. The extrovert trait of “it’s not real unless I can talk about it” is true for me in this case. It’s annoying, and the only way out is through.
Vintage paperbacks are where I gravitate most these days. I have been poking eBooks with a stick, but they are not sticking (that will change) and audiobooks, which my brain says, “no thank you” at this moment. That also will change, especially as I have a twelve-book series (two six book series that go together) in my sights to start maybe soon, my umpteenth read of these books. I do not know why my brain has these format preferences, but she’s a tricky one, so I am not going to ask. One thing at a time.
All in all, I am not upset by the current situation, reading-wise. More like “yes, that checks out. That’s to be expected. It will come back.” It will. I find my current relationship with reading to be at an interesting point. Accepting it for what it is takes a lot of the reading-related anxiety and pressure away. Since talking about it is a good thing, that will happen here more often. I am looking forward to that.
Typing With Wet Nails 