We’re taking a little time off here at Murder She Writes. We hope you all have a Wonderful Holiday and Very happy New Year!

Next week we wiil have excerpts from our books.

On January 7, 2008 we’ll be back to our regular schedule.

Stay safe!

I know…I’m the Queen of Snark, and often put the “b” in witch. But what can I say? The holiday spirit jumped me when I wasn’t looking. I want to tell all the Murder She Writes Friends who hang out here with us how much I appreciate each of you. I know all the gals here do.

To the fans: We wouldn’t be doing this without you. That simple. Without you to buy our books, read and talk about them, we’d just be the crazy people talking to ourselves in the corner. But you give our voices a chance to come out in stories. You make us feel sane and valuable because you get us and our stories. Thank you!

To the writers who hang out with us: We need you just as much! Creating writer communities is how we keep that last shred of sanity. We learn from each other about the business, we support one another, often sharing courage, strength and wisdom. We teach the baby writer, patting her on the back for her achievement then gently showing her the cold, hard reality of publishing. For the more seasoned writer, we lean on each other when standing alone is just too damned scary.

I count all of you as friends.

And now a little offering, I’ll pick from the comments one winner of a $15.00 Barnes and Noble Card. Say anything you want in the comments, talk about what you’ve learned from hanging out here, or maybe how you found a new author, had a laugh, or just say “Happy Holidays.” It doesn’t matter, if you comment (without offense, please, it is the holidays) you get a chance. I’ll pick a winner from Monday’s comments, and post the winner in the comments on Tuesday, December 18th.

Happy Holidays and May 2008 Bring You The Dreams You Deserve!

Dear Friends and Family.

What a year it’s been! I can’t believe the holidays are here again. Right away, you’ll notice my return address has changed to Folsom Correctional Institution for Women. I can explain.

It all started because I wanted to write a romance novel. Doesn’t that sound lovely? So I told my husband and kids. My husband said, “Does that mean I’ll get more?” He waggled his eyebrows in the universal male symbol for Me-Want-Sex. Then said, “What’s for dinner?”

My kids looked at me blankly, then suddenly remembered the school projects that were due TOMORROW! They needed poster board, glue, magazines, glitter and they need it all right now!

So I figured I’d start writing my book tomorrow, after I cooked dinner, bought poster board and cleaned up the awful mess from above mentioned glue and glitter.

The next day I got hubby off to work and the kids off to school. I poured some coffee and sat down to write my book. Then my mother called and wanted to have lunch. “Mom, I’m busy. I’m going to write a romance.”

A tirade unfolded in my ear, “I had a wonderful career as a dancer until I got knocked up with you. Then it was four months of morning sickness, four days of horrendous labor, colicky screaming day and night so that I couldn’t keep a sitter to work…my career was ruined! And all I want in return is to go to lunch with my daughter!”

So I’ll start writing my book tomorrow.

The next day, I got hubby off to work, kids off to school, and barely turned on my computer when my husband called and said, “Guess what! Mr. Big is in town and I invited him to dinner tonight. I told him you make the best homemade lasagna. We’ll be there for drinks at 6:00 pm. Uh, and honey, this time can you straighten up the house before we get there? And tell the kids to be good?”

Later that night, while Mr. Big was draining glass after glass of wine, he asked me what I do (uh, hello? See the home cooked lasagna?), I told him I was working on a romance novel. He waggled his eyebrows, although he was so drunk only one eyebrow lifted and said, “So you write that sex stuff bored housewives like.” I knew then that we didn’t have enough wine for me to get through the night.

The next morning, I snarled everyone out of the house, straightened up and THIS TIME, I got my laptop and went to Starbucks to write. I ordered myself a nice latte and sat down to work.

The gym-moms schlepped in. You all know about the gym-moms right? They drop their kids off at school and go to an actual gym. These women run around with words like “Juicy” on their toned rear ends. I could write the entire states of Massachusetts and Mississippi across my rear end and have room for the state capitals too. One of them asked me what I was doing. I told her writing a romance novel. She looked down her nose, “Oh I don’t read that trash.”

“Honey, you have “You Wish” on your ass! You ARE that trash. Just saying…” I pointed out nicely and tried, again, to work on my romance. I even managed to tune out the gym-moms chatter about their diets (what the freaking hell is tofu?). But alas, I only got a half page written when the school called on my cell.

Both kids had the stomach flu. Desperately wishing I could have a sick day, I picked up the kids and took them home to spend two days in a House of Horrors. Two sick kids and a husband who still thought he should go to poker night. I set him straight! “No way, dude! I’ve tried all week to work on my book. All I want is two hours to myself.”

My husband got a sudden call from his boss saying he had to come into work right away and he took off like the hounds of hell were chasing him. The selfish weasel.

So I guess I’d work on the book over the weekend.

At the kids’ soccer game, I had my laptop going, trying to write my romance. One person after another asked what I was doing. All the men cracked the same joke. “Need any help with the research?” Then they waggled their eyebrows in case I was too stupid to get that they were talking about sex.

I didn’t get one page written. Not one. And the team mom yelled at me because I brought fruit roll ups and juice boxes for snacks, and “They Are Not On The Approve Snack List.”

Just then my husband had the audacity to show up. Think he ever got his sorry hide out of bed and took the kids to the games? Not unless it was snowing at Satan’s house, you hear what I’m saying? No, true to form, he arrived at the very end of the game, acting like he’s the best father ever for making the effort. And to top it off, Ms. “You Wish” Ass tittered around, flirting with him. My husband puffed up like a overstuffed peacock. Ms. “You Wish” Ass, in the long held tradition of trashy women, decided to make fun of me and said, “She’s so involved in her trashy book, she didn’t even bring the right snacks today.”

My peacock husband said importantly, “I have to help her with the research on all the sexy parts.” Then he waggled his eyebrows at Ms. “You Wish” Ass.

In that instant, I saw the light. I didn’t want to write a romance! I wanted, no I needed to write a book about murder!

My husband was my first research subject.

Now I have lots of time to write here in the Folsom Correctional Institution for Women. Oh, and I’ve lost all of Massachusetts and a good portion of Mississippi off my ass.

Merry Christmas!
Just A. Joke

I’m sure you’ve all heard the story: A British teacher in Sudan was charged with offending religion for allowing the school children to name a teddy bear “Mohammad.”

In Sudan, the offense is punishable by 40 lashes, a jail term of up to a year or a fine.

Want to guess the sex of the teacher?

Female. A woman.

Do you think this would have happened to a male teacher? I doubt it.

Now after much international outrage, the teacher was convicted of insulting religion and the penalty is 15 days in jail. She has said she is being treated well.

I don’t know if that’s true or the teacher was afraid to say otherwise. I would be if I were her. There are multiple death threats against her and concern about getting her safely out of the country and back to Britain once she has served her sentence.

Can this really be about a teddy bear’s name? Or is it something else, something more disturbing? Like maybe the clerics in Sudan don’t want a woman teaching their children?

Look at history; anytime you want to control a county in some form of dictatorship, two things are done: Limit access to information and control the women.

To control women they must incite tremendous fear in them. Nothing like a good old fashion whipping to get the job done. Just the thought of being whipped is enough to scare most people into compliance.

An even more sickening example is the gang rape victim in Saudi Arabia that was sentenced to 90 lashes because she got into a car with an unrelated male (and was subsequently gang raped). When her lawyer appealed the case, her sentence was increased to 200 lashes. In this article, the Saudi Justice Ministry explains that the reason the rape victim is being punished is that “new evidence came to light” although the new evidence wasn’t mentioned that I could see. So basically, seven men gang raped her, but new evidence AGAISNT HER came to light. And, he goes on to defend, they also increased the rapists’ sentences too; from two to three years in prison, to two to nine years. (Apparently the rapists won’t be whipped).

It’s complete bullhocky. They are making a clear example of this woman to keep all women in line. The implication is that since she got into a car with a male not related to her, she not only clearly deserved the rape, but a brutal whipping too.

As depressing as all this is, at least the voices raised in protest stopped the teacher in the Sudan from a whipping for naming the teddy bear Mohammad. I think blogs played a part in that by spreading the word and keeping the plight of the teacher in the news. I hope the same will happen for the gang rape victim in Saudi Arabia.

Frankly, I think the men who handed down this sentence are the ones who should be whipped. All of us women should raise our voices loudly to protect a woman who is being victimized over and over. We’re all about the power of words, right? Let’s flex that power to send our own message to the thugs of this world: We will not stand silently by while you try to subjugate women in such an atrocious, vicious, inhuman manner.

What do you all think?

Let’s talk about what constitutes EASY.

I read a novella the other day where the heroine drove me crazy by thinking OVER AND OVER about how she never has sex this fast. How she always is in a relationship for awhile before she progresses to the next level. How she can’t believe it’s going to happen so fast. Really, she’s never this easy. She takes things slow…

I totally checked out. Who exactly was the heroine trying to convince? And why?

This was all internal thought, or exposition. I stopped caring as soon as she started the Internal Justification for Sex. Or IJS.

I know all about IJS. I’ve used the same justification in my own writing. I get so worried that readers might be turned off by the how quickly my heroine is progressing toward a sexual relationship that I suddenly start justifying it.

So. Not. Sexy!

Thankfully, I’m a fast reader and skimmed the rest of that story. I really didn’t care if the heroine ever had sex and barely remember anything past the point where she fretted eternally about Not Being Easy.

Then I read another novella in the same anthology and whoa! It was HOT. The heroine ends up engaged in some very sexy foreplay with a hot guy when she says in dialogue something like, “I never have sex with a guy after only knowing him twenty minutes.”

The guy, without looking at his watch told her something like, “It’s been at least forty five minutes.”

She totally agrees that’s plenty of time. I’m so into the story that I’m swept along with her. Not once did I think she was easy or a slut. I understood that this was a short novella, and a paranormal, so rules were going to be different. Besides, it was so well set up, I wasn’t thinking about the heroine’s moral compass, I was just turning pages as quickly as the tension built. No time to think, just read.

I loved this novella! There was a plot that helped reveal the emotional conflicts that made me care. I wanted this heroine to get the love she deserved. It all worked.

Not once was I pulled out of the story by IJS. Internal Justification for Sex is really making excuses. If the heroine has to make excuses for what she’s doing, then maybe she is easy. Maybe she is a slut. Or maybe she’s too stupid for me to trust her decisions regarding sex or anything else.

To sum up—the heroine that did the Internal Justification for Sex sucked all the sexual tension right out of the story, and she made me wonder if she was too stupid to be a heroine at all.

The heroine who acknowledged the swift sex with humor in dialogue had me with her every step of the way. She deserved the hot sexy guy she got in the end.

So am I too easy? What do you all think?