Writing together takes advantage of the power of opposites.

(Note: this is a post we wrote for the awesome A Chick Who Readsblog and features a hand-crafted joke.)

Kathleen and I have been writing together for more than ten years now, almost as long as we’ve been together, yet we could not be more different. She’s a geologist by training and spends most of her time watching the ground for sedimentary clues. I am a chronic cloud watcher and spend most of my time with my head in the stratosphere watching for lenticular clouds (Note: Mount Hood, near our home town of Portland, is a great place to spot them).

That difference is just the tip of the iceberg. She likes to read Russian fiction; I’m more into graphic novels. Kathleen is not a big fan of music — of any kind; I can’t make it more than ten waking minutes without reaching for the iPod (the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are on in the background as I write). She’s vegan; I’m vegetarian … OK, so that’s not very different. She likes French movies with subtitles and whisper-thin plots that usually involve some sort of stolen look; I’m more of a horror/western/action movie junkie.

Those are just a few of the many differences between us, and exploring and focusing that tension makes our writing more than the sum of the parts. In our books — The Cowboy and the Vampire and Blood and Whiskey — the love between our hero and heroine mirrors the chaos and energy of our own opposites attract experiences.

Like us (Washington, DC; Whitehall, Montana), Tucker and Lizzie are from different worlds. Tucker is a down on his luck Wyoming cowboy and Lizzie is a reporter from New York. He was used to being by himself in the middle of nowhere with nothing but sagebrush and Rex, his long-suffering dog, to keep him company. Lizzie was used to the hustle and bustle of the capital of the world (sorry Paris but New York kind of is) and fighting to keep her space in a sea of people.

Their whirlwind romance, fueled by nights of scorching passion and, if they were honest with each other, a desperation born of the notion they would likely never see each other again, helped form a bond that would keep them together against seemingly insurmountable odds — and a horde of evil vampires.

In Blood and Whiskey, the differences between them only increase. Tucker has to deal with the fact that his girlfriend is suddenly the most powerful figure in the shadowy world of the vampires. Every single member of the undead tribes wants something from her, and some just want her dead. Lizzie just needs Tucker, and human blood, but can’t bring herself to kill. Or can she?

In our books, the opposites attract nature of our own relationship allows us to so easily get inside their heads. In a romance made stronger by two almost diametrically opposed world views, we found common ground in our love of writing, and it comes through in our books. Check out The Cowboy and Vampire Thriller Series to find out for yourself.

Oh yeah, about that joke:

So this geologist and a cloud watcher walk into a bar. The geologist says, “I’ll take a gin and tectonic.” The bartender says, “Sorry, we don’t serve your types here.” The cloud watcher shakes his head and says, “Are you cirrus?”
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Published on August 18, 2012 16:00 • 168 views • Tags: blood, cirrus, clouds, cowboys, gin, tectonic, vampires, whiskey

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