I’m traveling today to the Moonlight & Magnolia’s conference in Atlanta. My book is done (yeah!) and I’ll be starting revisions tomorrow on the plane (and no, I don’t have revision grief, I live for revisions.)

Because I won’t be able to check in until tonight, I’m posting an assignment my 14-year-old daughter Kelly, a freshman in honors English and reviewer for RT Book Reviews, wrote for her summer reading assignment.

All freshmen were required to read ENDER’S GAME by Orson Scott Card, a 1985 science fiction classic that won both the Nebula and Hugo awards. From Amazon:

Intense is the word for Ender’s Game. Aliens have attacked Earth twice and almost destroyed the human species. To make sure humans win the next encounter, the world government has taken to breeding military geniuses — and then training them in the arts of war… The early training, not surprisingly, takes the form of ‘games’… Ender Wiggin is a genius among geniuses; he wins all the games… He is smart enough to know that time is running out. But is he smart enough to save the planet?

Kelly had to write several papers, but one stood out because it’s also an exercise that authors use: write a scene from another character’s point-of-view. This skill is important because sometimes when we have a scene that just isn’t working, it’s not that the scene itself is bad, it’s that we’re using the wrong character to tell it. I’ve often changed POV in revisions because either the pacing was off, or the characters were put under the wrong light. WHO tells the scene is almost as important as the scene itself.

Kelly chose to write from Bonzo’s POV right before Ender kills him. (Bonzo is Ender’s primary rival — he won all the games before Ender arrived at the Battle School.)

How dare that arrogant little SOB! Who the hell does he think he is? Waltzing right into Battle School, doesn’t even need to go through what the rest of us went through—the groveling, vying for the highest position, praise from teachers, clawing our way to the top just for a lousy position in an army of snot-nosed rats who think they know better? Who’s he to prance right on through the games with his drone of an army, to be picked out of all the rest of us to be given new games, every day—nothing is too big or challenging for Ender, oh no, he can do it, he can defeat two armies at once, most likely cheating his way through everything. And at the end of the day, he probably goes home and whines that he’s tired, it was a long, hard day for him and his soldiers.

I’ll show him a hard day. I am the one who deserves everything they’re throwing at this kid. He didn’t go through half of what I went through to get here today! He’s not the one who must prove to everyone at home, especially Father, that he can defeat the buggers. I’m the third who was cast out, who had to show everyone that I deserve to be at this school, to be the historical Commander who defeats the Buggers. To get out of that hell of a home where I had to prove I was worthy of anything. If that shit for brains kid gets into Command school before he’s ten like everyone says he is…he won’t because I’m going to kill him. Rip those tiny limbs apart so he won’t be controlling an army any time soon because he’s dead. I’m going to get him, when his snot faced army isn’t huddling around trying to protect their leader, their master.

I’ve been hunting for every opportunity, and finally found it when his whole army was walking to the mess hall. When Bernard told me our comrade saw Ender leaving for the showers alone, he was as good as gone. It would be hopelessly easy, seven older, larger, soldiers, against a scrawny little puke. His brains could not help him this time, not in the art of classic war.

We entered the showers quietly, but he heard us. He should.

Anticipate it, Ender, because there’s nothing you can do about it.

Bernard snatches his towel from the rack and shares a quiet chuckle with the others. Clever, he has more brains than I gave him credit for.

Ender opened the curtain and looked at us, calling out a delightful, “Ho!”

I almost smacked him in that little puny face of his right then and there but I knew it had to wait. Let him fear us, savor the fact that he was about to die, and nothing, no one could help him now. I almost didn’t hear him say, “Your move,” until Bernard replied, “This is no game. We’re tired of you, Ender. You graduate today. On ice.”

The brains I’d given Bernard credit for lost all points. But Ender wasn’t afraid of them, I could tell. His gaze was locked on mine. He knew why I was here, knew his fate. Let him. My feet fought to stay where they were planted while I desperately wanted to knock his skull into the tiles so his blood pours down the drain, to be filtered and consumed by the whole school tomorrow.

But then—then the little bastard brings up my father, how he would be proud of me, for fighting a naked boy in a shower with six friends. How dare he bring up my father! How the hell does he know anything? He doesn’t. He’s trying to make me back down because he’s afraid.

Well I’m not scared, Ender. And my honor? Trust me, it will be restored when your blood is poured.

Bernard makes a joke, but I don’t hear it. Everyone laughs, except Ender and I. I’m contemplating how to get this done as clean and efficiently as possible, when he brings up my father again. How I’ll go home and tell him how I managed to kill a defenseless boy and how terrifying he was. That drew the line. He’s trying to save himself, he’s afraid, he knows he’ll die. I’m not taking any of that shit.

I tell the boys to shut up and stand back. He wants to do this naked, wet, and alone? Fine. We will, I tell him as I take off my uniform. You’re such a genius, you figure out how to defeat me. Then I order the others to watch the door. After that, he just stands there, sizing me up. Yup, that’s right, I’m bigger, stronger. I can’t help that, but it sure does come to my advantage. I’ll let him have the first move. Let that arrogant little brain think he has a chance.

Then, then he doesn’t say anything, the only move he makes is to turn on all the faucets. What the hell is he trying to do? I’m not afraid of hot water, I tell him. Then, just as I’m about to lunge and grab his arms, there was a voice at the door.

“Stop it!” If that was a teacher, he was in for a shit load of hell. But then the boys drag in Dink Meeker. “Stop it!” he cries, “Don’t hurt him!”

I should have expected that. He was part of Ender’s little posse—no, cult—of followers. He was bound to notice our absence from the mess hall. Well, Dink Meeker can’t save his little leader this time, no one can. I have him, right here, and no one is about to stop me.

“Why not?” I ask him. “Why shouldn’t I kill the little snot who’s humiliated all of us, one time or another?”

I hated him for what he said next. I’m a bugger lover if I let him die, because Ender’s the one to defeat him. I’m a traitor, and I deserve to die if I kill him. Then my boys knock him out.

Damn it, Ender’s the traitor! He’s the one who took everything from me and made it his own, turned everything he touched into gold! I was next in line for Command school, I was that Commander! I will defeat the buggers after he’s gone. He’s not the only one with a brain in this place I’ll kill him for saying that, just like I’ll kill those damn buggers!

After they leave, Ender shows he’s afraid. He pleads for me not to hurt him. Yes, finally, he submits, realizes he’s got nothing left. This is how I will restore my honor.

I leap for him, but the rest goes by in a blur. I try to grab him, but he’s too slippery, and I fall. He’s about to make his move when I shift to lunge for him, our heads in line…then there’s pain coursing through my head, I stagger, and see blood on my hands, and fall. Somehow, he’s made me weaker. Excruciating pain, I can’t see…I’ll get you later, just let me lie here…

Another jab, a kick, so much pain…and then a sharp, horrific pain.

I can’t think. I don’t feel anything. The steam, it’s so hot. Can’t breathe, can’t feel … no more pain …

Father I tried. I tried to be the best. I’m sorry.

Well that’s just too bad. You should have done better, Bonito.

# # #

Pretty amazing, don’t you agree? Even if you haven’t read the book, you can get a strong sense of both the story and the conflict.

Comment below — on the story, on point-of-view, on writing exercises, on the weather — on whatever you want! And one commenter will receive a copy of my new anthology of humorous horror stories, BLOOD LITE II: OVERBITE, by the Horror Writers Association and edited by the talented Kevin J. Anderson –with stories by yours truly, Heather Graham, Kelley Armstrong, and many more! I’ve read a couple of the stories when I got my copy, and they are fun. It was just released this week!

So, here’s the rumor.  “Rocki’s got a really fabulous blog post planned for tomorrow….”  I read that at Murder She Writes just yesterday, so it must be true, right?  Rumor or fact?

You can’t answer that until we agree on the official definition of a rumor:

1) a statement based on mix of hyperbole and hope (or fear)

2) embellished with reasonable assumption

3) communicated to the world as fact

4) interpreted and believed based on the audience’s expectations.

Is that the official definition of a rumor, you ask, possibly culled from one of those meaty college textbooks that Rocki used to get her degree in mass communications from UCLA? Well, no.  That definition is an example of Rocki doing what Rocki does best:  MSU.   (Making Shit Up.)  But let’s go with it, shall we?

Rumor:  In yesterday’s blog, Lori said we switched our days this week because “Rocki’s got a really fabulous blog post planned for tomorrow.”

Now my buddy Lori Armstrong/Lorelei James is as adept as any of us at MSU, but she did not start this rumor out without a basis.  Last week, Lori mentioned having a scheduling conflict on her usual Wednesday, asking the group for a switch or possible guest, and I popped in and offered to switch Tuesday and Wednesday this week because I am, as my father used to say, up to my umbilica in revisions, and welcomed an extra day to write my blog.  I’m so mired in revisions, I said, (note, here’s the statement based on a mix of hyperbole and hope that became the basis for the rumor), “I think I’ll write a blog post about the Five Stages of Revision Grief.  As soon as I get past  Shock, Anger & Disbelief and move into Reluctant Acceptance, I can write up a brilliant post about this universal misery rollercoaster we writers endure upon the arrival of a Revision Letter.”

I didn’t say I would, I said I think I will maybe someday there’s a chance that might happen if it doesn’t get too chilly in hell.  That’s hyperbole and hope.

But this statement was embellished with a reasonable assumption on Lori’s part when she said “Rocki’s got a fabulous blog” because I did say I might, and I usually come through with something readable, if not truly fabulous.  So imagine my surprise yesterday morning when I turned on my Blackberry to read overnight mail (still in bed, mind you) and learned that the fabulous blog that I totally forgot about because I’m still in the Oh My God this isn’t a Revision it’s a Complete Effing Rewrite stage has now been communicated to the world as fact.  In other words, it’s on the internet, therefore it Must Be True.

And lastly, the audience for this rumor is you, the MSW community, left to interpret and believe this rumor, or not. You hear “Rocki’s got a fabulous blog post,” and think, well…it’s possible…she’s had some good ones.  All of the MSW girls give good blog.  Now if Lori had said, “Rocki won’t be here because she’s shoe shopping,” you’d KNOW that couldn’t possibly be true.  Although can we just stop for a minute to admire these:

Did that distraction work?  No?  That’s too bad because….I don’t have no freaking fabulous blog post planned today! 

I’m in Revision Hell, and can’t write my grocery list let alone a good blog.  But I did already start thinking about a post.  Last night.  Before I knew the pressure for fabulosity would be high.  And you want to know the definition of irony?  You do?  Go look it up, I’m too busy to Make Shit Up.  But this has got to be a little ironic:  the less-than-fabulous emergency back-up blog post I’d planned opened with this sentence…

 I’ve heard a rumor.  

Because I really and truly did want to write a brief (revision deadline, people!) post about this disheartening rumor I’ve heard and get the full low-down from our MSW community. 

Here it is:

Romantic suspense is going out of fashion.  Oh, there are worse words associated with this rumor, but I’m loathe to repeat them.  (Tanking, in the dumper, DOA, done.  You know the words.  Bad, bad words when aimed at your genre.)

Is this rumor or fact???

Based on my definition of a rumor, this is a statement I heard from several reliable sources within the industry based on hyperbole and fear (certainly not hope), that I’m going to embellish with reasonable assumptions — everything is cyclical in this business — send it live on the MSW blog for you to confirm or deny, based on your own  interpretations of what’s selling.

Seriously, is this true?  Are readers moving away from romantic suspense?  Is the sub-genre passed its prime?  Are bookstore buyers saying “no” to headless, shirtless torsos with big guns?  Are publishers weeding out their lists to make room for The Next Big Thing?  (Or more paranormal?) 

Talk to me! Confirm, deny, or spread more lies rumors.  Do you think romantic suspense is in a lull?  Lost its luster? Are you buying/reading/writing as much as ever?  One commenter will win an Advanced Review Copy of EDGE OF SIGHT, coming out on October 26!  The book is fabulous!  That’s no rumor because fabulosity was confirmed by Publishers Weekly in the review that ran this week.  They said:

Bestseller St. Claire (The Bullet Catchers) touches off a bold new series with this taut, complex and intelligent page-turner, skillfully blending deep romance with labyrinthine mystery and hard-boiled action.

Law student Samantha Fairchild witnesses the brutal murder of a popular newspaper columnist, but the Boston police refuse to protect her. She turns to her old friend, investigative reporter Vivi Angelino, and inadvertently walks right into the path of Vivi’s brother Zach, a Special Forces officer who broke her heart when he went off to overseas combat and never wrote or called. As a killer stalks Sam and Zach and a vast conspiracy unfolds around them, the former lovers must confront their mutual attraction and their troubled pasts.

Readers will thrill to this dynamic tale and its nonstop action, sweet and sexy romance, lively characters, and celebration of family and forgiveness. (Nov.)

How cool is that?  Labyrinthine! I thought that was a birthstone!  Comment  and win an ARC of EDGE OF SIGHT!!!

No, you didn’t sleep through an entire day, Rocki and I switched days this week because she’s got a really fabulous blog planned for tomorrow so stay tuned!

Me? Not so much with the fab blog. I got nothin’. I’ve been staring at the blinking cursor for the better part of ten minutes…feeling guilty that I should be upstairs working until the wee small hours on my book that is officially late, and not freaking out about not having a barn burner of a blog topic for you all this week.

So, I thought about chatting about new TV shows, winners, losers, must sees, and have beens…then I remembered we might be doing a group blog topic on that next week.

Then I decided I could talk about heading to Laramie, WY on Wed. (the reason for the blog day switch) to see my oldest daughter get awarded a nursing school scholarship — cool huh? — and how we have to make the trip in one day — 5 hours each way — because Simon and Schuster is sending me to Midwest Booksellers Association conference in Minneapolis on Thursday. On Friday I’ll be lunching with booksellers from the Midwest and on Saturday I’ll be signing ARCs of MERCY KILL.

I also considered talking about the fall weather, which is gorgeous in western South Dakota this time of year. The leaves are turning, the air is crisp, the sky is so blue, the harvest moon so full, it’s really like a postcard and a beautiful reminder of why I love to live here. I thought about writing a fall poem, as I do every year, being inspired by the shades of gold, oranges and red, then I remembered I am so far from a poet that it ain’t funny…insert your favorite Longfellow joke here

I wondered if I should reminisce about high school Homecoming, as my youngest daughter is a freshman this year and will be attending coronation, the bonfire, the football game, and the dance for the first time at my alma mater…but I don’t honestly remember Homecoming. Seriously. Well, one I do, but I would get in so much trouble if I shared that particular story.

I weighed the pros and cons of discussing my WIP, but I’m one of those freaky writers who has a “jinx” complex, so whether the book is going shitty or swimmingly…I don’t like to talk about it. And wow, that makes for such great conversations with editors.

I decided I would whine about the fact my middle daughter has MORE FRIENDS ON FACEBOOK THAN I DO. I also decided to beg….please please please, friend me on Facebook, so I can totally rub it in my daughter’s face that I have more friends than her — hee hee — kidding, but…not really. Pathetic, I know, right? Even more pathetic? I’m adding the link here. Seriously:  Lorelei James Facebook page –

Oh, and since I’m two people, here’s another: Lori Armstrong Facebook page

I had started an entire post about penguins…I know, STOP SNORING, that I scrapped, lucky for you all, huh?

So, tell me your favorite thing about fall that does NOT have to do with pumpkins, because I hate pumpkins. Creepy bastards. And their guts taste like crap too, yes, that includes pumpkin pies, muffins, bread and who in the HELL decided pumpkin would taste good in…BEER?

A random commenter will win a signed copy of one of my books, any of my books, Lori Armstrong or Lorelei James — thanks for reading to the bottom of the page

My two year anniversary here at MSW falls in between this blog post and my next, so I’ll stretch out the celebration over the next couple of weeks. This week, one commenter will win an autographed ARC of Shayla Black’s upcoming ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT, the fourth title in her Doomsday Brethren series.

This past MSW year (Oct-Oct) has been a pivotal one for me. After three years of insanely writing every waking moment, I crashed and burned in 2009, which led to me being unproductive for most of the year. By the time I dug myself out of the hole I’d collapsed into, I realized my forward momentum had skid to a halt when I stopped pushing. I still had contracts to fulfill, so I knew I would still be releasing books, but I’d lost a beloved editor at one house and negotiations with my other house had come to a standstill. The projects I had left on my plate weren’t ones I expected the publisher to seriously get behind, which meant there was nothing for me to get behind either. I worked on a couple proposals, but they didn’t go anywhere. I feared I’d lost my salability along with my writing mojo. I was left facing a choice that would have been inconceivable to me just a year before–put aside my ambitions and leave the business when my contracts were up, or keep trying to get back on my feet.

It wasn’t an easy decision to make. Both choices looked vastly appealing depending on the day and how well (or not) my writing was progressing. Financial pressures at home and my son’s diagnosis of Asperger’s Syndrome added to the mix. My friends and agent got me through that rough time, inspiring me to keep taking baby steps forward. By some mad twist of fate (and a lot of blood, sweat, and tears) I’ll be ending 2010 with three new editors and multiple new series in the works, one of which went to auction. I went from feeling cursed to feeling blessed in the span of this past year, but really it’s not so black and white. The road ahead is still an uphill climb and I’m still limping along, recovering my lost passion for writing slowly but surely.

So this past year has been a transition year for me, one in which I released no new books. I received galleys in the mail the other day and it was such a joy to see them. It’s been a long time. The whole process of nurturing a book through production feels almost brand new to me. I’ve decided that’s what this last year was meant to be–a wake up call of sorts. An admonition to enjoy the gift of doing what I love for a living. A kick in the ass meant to remind me that things were a little too easy for me in the beginning and this career isn’t meant to be easy. It’s meant to be damn hard, with terrible lows and astonishing highs, and lots of dues to pay. You have to hit the lows to really grasp the beauty of the highs.

I’m still working on taking better care of myself so I don’t burn out again. I eat better and exercise more. I make it a point to read more. I rewarded myself with a new Kindle, which arrives tomorrow. I can’t wait. I have a backlog of digital books and manuscripts to read. I also have a brand new year ahead of me. Looking forward to next October, I wonder how I’ll be summing up this year and what I’ll be sharing with you then. Where will I be? Where will you be?

How have the last twelve months been for you? Are you having a golden year or building up to one? Thank you for spending part of your days here at MSW. It’s a wonderful corner of cyberspace because of you.

The winner of Toni’s $25 gift certificate to the online bookstore of your choice is Amber K, (commenter #30). Congratulations, Amber! Please email Toni (toni [at] tonimcgeecausey [dot] com) your preferred bookstore and the email where you want to receive the certificate. Happy reading!

The winners from Karen Olson’s blog are: Barbie and Liz Montondo – please email Karen: karen@kareneolson.com to collect your prize. Congratulations!

The winner of ETERNAL HUNGER by Laura Wright is comment #23 REGINA ROSS. Congratulations Regina! Please send your mailing address to Laura at Laurawright@laurawright.com . Or you can contact me (Jen) at Jenapodaca@aol.com and I’ll forward the info to Laura.

KariLynn is the winner of the $25 Container Store gift certificate.
Please email sophie@sophielittlefield.com with your address so she can
send it to you.

And the winner of Laura Griffin’s DEADLY PROMISES anthology, featuring Sherrilyn Kenyon, Dianna Love, and Cindy Gerard, PLUS a $20 giftcard to your favorite online bookstore is:  Anne (comment #17)   Please email laura@lauragriffin.com to claim your prize.

Thanks to everyone who stopped by the blog this week. Looking forward to another great week on Murder She Writes!