I need to lose 30 pounds! I needed to lose 20 when I went to Dallas last month but since I’ve been home I’ve gained 10 pounds! T.E.N.!!! POUNDS!!! So, this week it was a slow start back to the gym. But my heart isn’t in it. I know I need to go, and I do go… mostly.

Here’s the thing for me. Hubby and I walk almost very morning. But since he took the coaching job he isn’t home in the mornings. When he gets home in the evening he doesn’t want to walk. He’s too tired. I understand that, and I want to visit with him so I don’t walk. Even though I do take my dog out for a spin when it cools down.

With my deadlines, my business, and life in general, I’ve made it ok not to take care of this one and only body of mine.

So this week I’ve been back to really watching the carbs and drinking lots of water during the day, but I know exercise is the key to losing the weight. I have a girl friend who runs. She looks great. She tells me all of the time to run, “running will melt the weight off” she says in her perky little voice coming out of her perky little mouth attached to her perky little body. Grrr, no resentment here folks, but I think someone forgot to tell her: it hurts to run! I’ve never liked to run. Remember in high school you had to do that awful 800 yard run thingy? I always called in sick that day. Running is hard work!

Well, guess who bought a pair of running shoes? Moi. So, beginning today August 31, 2007 I am putting it out there. I need to lose 30 pounds. Every Friday when I post, regardless of topic, until it’s G-O-N-E, I am going to post how much weight I have lost. Anyone want to join me?

Before the RWA conference, I received an email from Ballantine that I won the 2006 Debut Author award from Borders. I was thrilled. The award was officially announced at an RWA luncheon, and a beautiful ad was in the program. I sort of forgot about it until yesterday, when the actually AWARD arrived. It’s lovely, and I can hardly wait to move into my new house–where I’ll have a private office–to display this beautiful acknowledgment of my debut novel.

Seeing my book encased reminded me about the story itself and how I have grown as a writer since that first book. When I talk about THE PREY, it’s usually in context of my road to publication–THE PREY was my fifth completed manuscript, it was sold in a pre-empt to Ballantine, yada yada. But the story itself is rarely discussed because I’m now in the middle of writing my eighth book (twelfth if you count the four I never sold.)

When I wrote THE PREY, I sensed it was IT. The book that would sell. I don’t know why, it was just a feeling under the surface, a vague excitement and fear. I just felt that it was something . . . special. It kept me interested, I loved my characters, and I let the story go where it needed to go. It was the first time I wrote without second guessing everything I did. I made some choices that ultimately have defined me as an author, specifically something that Jill Smith, the RT reviewer for FEAR NO EVIL, acknowledged:

… this author is making a name for herself by producing not only memorable heroes but also unforgettable villains.

In THE PREY, I decided to go deep into the killer’s head. I didn’t pull any punches. He remembered as a child killing the neighbor’s cat with this new BB gun. But I didn’t stop there. I went on to try to figure out what made him tick, what caused him to turn into the violent predator he is today. That means going beyond stereotype and putting myself in the killer’s shoes. WHY does he do what he does?

In THE PREY, I went with a strong, independent female lead–and I have kept strong, independent females integral to my heroines. They can be a variety of things–scared, fearful, worried, whatever–but they must, at their core, be strong and willing to overcome their fear to save themselves or others, even if they are not in law enforcement. These may or may not be kick ass heroines, but they must be internally strong. That started with Rowan Smith who, though colder than most of my heroines, became a model of sorts for someone who overcame tragedy.

And my hero . . . well, John Flynn may very well come back in my FBI series because he’s just too good to leave alone for too long, living in the Colorado mountains with Rowan. And where John goes, so does Rowan because, as they tell each other at the end of the book, they are better together than apart.

When I look at THE PREY today, though it will always have a soft spot, I see the flaws. I see things that now, eight books later, I would have done different. The truth is, at the time it was the best book I could have written.

As a published author, I am constantly striving to make each book better than the last. When I finish a book, I think, “This is garbage.” After my editor and I go over the strengths and weaknesses, I think, “Well, it’s not that bad I guess.” After revisions, I’m thinking, “Okay, I won’t be red-faced in shame if someone read this.” And when I read the page-proofs, I’m thinking, “OMG, I’ll never be able to write another book like this. My career is over.”

It’s not that I think any individual book is brilliant, but every book is the absolutely best I can write at the time I write it. I fear that I’ll never get better, that this is it, that I have plateaued and stuck. I think part of this is quick publication of my books–I don’t have a lot of time to think and reflect on the story as I’m writing it, or even after it is released because there’s another book to write. Maybe this is actually a good thing. Too much contemplation and second-guessing can really mess with my head.

I’m in the middle of writing SILENT SCREAM, the second of my prison break trilogy. It’s garbage. Right now, I hate this story. I have no idea what’s going to happen, my characters were flat, they did things I didn’t understand, and I don’t understand my villains. I have seventy pages of total bleck. Well, the last chapter I wrote wasn’t complete trash. I’m beginning to see the potential–but it’s nowhere near KILLING FEAR.

Have I peaked?

The I look back at THE PREY. I felt the same way about that book. That I could never write anything better. That Ballantine would be so disappointed in anything else and never want to publish anything else I wrote.

But I can honestly say that each book is better than the last. Now, some people might not like an individual story or a specific character, but from a writer’s perspective, I have felt that each book is stronger–once all is said and done and I’m beyond my panic mode which is . . . well . . . about a month after the book comes out.

In KILLING FEAR, I have my first non-law enforcement heroine. It was a challenge. When I first wrote the book, I really thought it was awful. But then my agent said it was her favorite book since THE PREY. And that sort of surprised me. I mean, haven’t I gotten better since my first book? Why this one and not FEAR NO EVIL which is my editor’s favorite? Or THE HUNT which is my mom’s favorite? Or THE KILL which is Anna’s favorite?

It is so subjective, and even for the author, it’s subjective. I’m looking at the story in a completely different way than anyone else. A series of character choices and the fear that with every page, the wrong story choice is made. Every story is about the instincts of the author. A gut feeling about the characters–who practically become real people–about the pacing, about the ebb and flow. And then fearing I can’t trust my instincts.

But, inevitably, when I start doubting my instincts, when I start taking too much control from the characters, the story stagnates and writers block hits. Not writers block, but more a character mutiny.

Looking back at THE PREY, I can’t help but feel it’s the favorite child, warts and all. And I’m very proud to display my new award.

You know, I really don’t get this whole insanity plea thing that people get to use in court whenever they tip over on the wrong side of a choice. I mean, we all get a little whacked in the head at times, especially when life throws a lot of crap our way at one time. But how we react to that mountain of crap is still our choice. In my opinion, folks should only be allowed to use that insanity card if they’re certifiable BEFORE they do something really stupid. Otherwise, any yo-yo can pull from that psychology deck and probably get away with it. You could pull any Joe Blow off the street, stick him in a room with a group of shrinks, and I’ll bet you dollars to donuts he’ll come out of there with at least two or three labels stuck to him. Bi-Polar Disorder—Anxiety Disorder—Mood Disorder…blah, blah, blah. Hell, we’ve all got at least one loose bolt rattling around in our skulls that could probably be labeled, but that shouldn’t give anyone a license to hurt others and get away with it.

Take Lisa Nowak for example . . .

Now here we have a 44 year old female astronaut who’s charged with attempted kidnapping, battery and burglary with assault after allegedly driving nearly 1,000 miles from Houston to Orlando to confront the girlfriend of a former space shuttle pilot she had been involved with. Now the woman’s pursuing an insanity plea. Her defense attorney claims that she suffered from major depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, insomnia and brief psychotic disorder with marked stressors.

My initial reaction to that was—Bitch, puulease!

You mean to tell me that a woman with this many psychological disorders just skated right through the space training program and became an astronaut? Uhh, I don’t think so.

We just need to stop sticking labels on bad behavior in order to excuse it. Really, look at this situation. It boils down to a simple equation….the woman was dumped, got pissed-off, had a bad temper, and didn’t keep that temper in check. Period.

It makes me just wanna tell the woman, “Girl, what the hell’s wrong with you? First off, there ain’t no man worth jail time. And second, looka here— since you decided to go ahead and play stupid anyway, you just need to take your licks and leave that damn insanity card for somebody who really needs it.”

So what do you think? Is that insanity trump card used too often?

(Now where the hell’d I put that Xanax……. P

Saturday morning, I went downstairs early and read until my husband got up. This is our routine (Sleep? What’s sleep? People actually SLEEP?) Anyway, my husband came downstairs and I went up to do the shower and dress thing. I came back downstairs, ready to cook breakfast.

The first thing I saw was the morning newspaper still in the rubber band on the table. Weird. Hubby always reads the paper while I’m showering on the weekend morning.

He wasn’t online either, the second place I’ll find him before breakfast on weekend mornings.

If fact, he wasn’t in the house anywhere. I know because I checked the whole house twice. At first, I was just baffled. Then I thought: Okay, he’s probably outside working on the pool as I know he’s been adjusting chemicals, except the back door was still locked. He wasn’t out back.

Now I’m getting freaked. But then I heard the neighbor pouring some cement for a wall, so I figure Hubby is nosing around out front, checking up on the neighbor’s project.

Except the front door is locked too.

What’s going on?

I had no idea. I checked the house AGAIN. No hubby.

I have a garage door monitor upstairs in my room, so I know the garage door isn’t open.

All these weird ideas start going through my head. Did he win Lotto and just leave? He’s joked about it, but you know, I thought he was kidding. An emergency? But he would have told me.

So right about now, you’re all thinking, “Seriously Jen, how dumb are you? Call his cell phone.”

Yeah, I would IF HE HAD A CELL PHONE. He just uses mine when he needs the convenience of a cell phone. Otherwise, Hubby is cell phone free and proud of it.

So, finally, I go to the garage.

One of the cars is missing.

I just stand there because obviously he’s left in a car. But I can’t imagine why. Then I realize, DONUTS! He probably went to get donuts and didn’t leave me a note. Really, he was just joking about winning Lotto and leaving! So I sit down to wait.

Ten more minutes. I’m really starting to wonder what to do. I can go look for him, but if he’s not at the donut shop, I don’t have a clue. What am I going to do? Call the police and say what everyone says, “But he wouldn’t just leave me. He loves me!”

Yeah, they haven’t heard that one before.

Then the garage opens. Hubby comes strolling in. I don’t want to appear stupid, but he doesn’t have a bag of donuts in his hand (and seriously, since he was clearly alive and well, where the hell was my donut???), so I rule out the donut shop. In a calm voice, I asked, “Where did you go?”

Perplexed, he says, “To get a hair cut, remember?”

Damn. He’d told me the day before, but I totally blanked. I worked on making him feel bad for scaring me, but since he had told me and I’m the one that forgot, it really wasn’t having much effect.

So Hubby’s home and fine, but still—it was seriously weird. We rarely have miscommunications (okay fine I FORGOT!) like this, and we always know, or can easily guess, where the other one is. It got me thinking, if he had just vanished like that, what would I do?

What would you do?

I suspect if I think about this long enough, I’ll be using a scene like this in a book.

Happy Monday Everyone!

Spyscribbler won a copy of any book from my backlist. Yeah! Please email me your real name and address and the name of the book you want. If you want to send a book to a friend instead, let me know!

More on the loglines tonight . . . I gotta rush to church and then do last minute school shopping.