Jennifer Crusie's Blog, page 328

Video Crack

Amazon has a new Prime deal: sign up for Prime (which gives you free two-day shipping on most things) and they'll give you a huge streaming video library for free. The library is eclectic, full of old film with some real oddities in there, but there are also some wonderful things: His Girl Friday, Charade, season four of the Inspector Lewis mysteries, documentaries I've wanted to watch like Helvetica and Comic Book Confidential, all the Doctor Whos, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead . . . really the variety is astounding. And it's all just a click away. (I know this is Amazon's entry drug to their Video on Demand program, but I was already there for that anyway.) It's like buying a huge box of DVDs at a garage sale and going through them and finding treasure and dreck all thrown in together. And even the dreck is fascinating; there's some really great bad film in there, along with several Mystery Science Theater videos. Since I am currently battling the flu while trying to wrestle this book to the ground, this has been a real gift. When the nausea lays me low, I watch Inspector Lewis to learn mystery done right. (It's surprising how much more inspiring British mystery is to what I'm doing than American is at the moment, and did I mention there are four Miss Marples in the free library?)

I don't think the library itself is worth $79 a year, Netflix has a much better catalog for not much more money, but the free shipping is worth it (well, it's free after you work your way through $79 of shipping fees), and if you've got that already, go wander through what they're offering: Batman Returns, Amadeus, Little Shop of Horrors, Scooby Doo and the Goblin King, Ladyhawke, Between the Folds (doc on artists who work in paper folding), Downton Abbey, Torchwood. It's an odd addition to a free shipping program, but if you've got Prime already, it's a fun addition to your viewing options.

The Angry Birds Honeymoon Game

Originally, I crocheted Lani and Alastair an Angry Birds road trip game, but then they decided to get married, so it became

The Angry Birds Honeymoon Game

Players: 2

Game Pieces: 2

The Bomb Bird Hat

The Green Pigs Bra

The Rules:

1. Player 1 puts on Bomb Bird Hat

2. Player 2 puts on Green Pigs Bra

3. Player 1 yells, "Ah-HEE-minah!" and flings self at Green Pigs.

4. Game continues until somebody wins.

They were speechless with admiration so I'm sure they loved it.

How to Make a Wedding Cake

1. Roommate announces Thursday night that she's getting married on Saturday. Congratulate her. Accept when she asks you to be maid of honor. Try to remember what maid of honor does besides stand there. Roommate says they have found a great place to get married near Easton in Columbus. Tell roommate that's a five-hour round trip with kids and you hope she has a nice time. Go back to work on vastly overdue book until the dawn breaks and kids leave for school. Roommate says they have found a place in Cincinnati to get married. Congratulate her and tell her you'll be there. Go to sleep.

2. Wake up four hours later and realize that sick puppy is about to run out of special dog food and wedding is tomorrow. Better get a card. Drive to the vet's. Wake up as you drive. Realize that putting on underwear does not constitute "dressed to leave the house" if dressed in striped sweats and a T-shirt and wearing houseslippers. Realize at twenty-one, this is cute; at sixty-one, assisted living is in near future. Park at vet's. Dig good black coat out of the hatchback, the one bought in Boston when writing partner gave you ten minutes to buy a coat and you bought two, both of them still excellent. Gloat for the hundredth time. Remember when you didn't forget to put on real shoes. Stop gloating. Tie sleeves of black coat around waist to undercut "Hi, I'm wandering around in my pajamas" effect. Go into the vet's and get dog food.

3. Drive to T.J.Maxx and buy red leather flats to replace houseslippers. Immediately feel better. Add laptop case, dish scrubber, notepads for Krissie, and a designer clipboard. Feel MUCH better.

4. Remember wedding. Wedding present is taken care of (Angry Birds Honeymoon Game, previously the Angry Birds Road Trip Game), but now remember that good maids of honor also provide wedding bouquets and wedding cake for elopements. (This is not your first maid of honor-elopement rodeo.) Thank God for SuperKrogers a mile down the road. Get in car. Change into red slippers. Feel happiness replace despair.

5. Remember that you need four skeins of yarn to finish Project Runway Sock Monkeys Collection. Go into Hancocks and find yarn 30% off. Admire red slippers as you pick up yarn. Feel pretty damn good about self.

6. Drive to SuperKrogers. Go to fancy-schmancy designer bakery and ask for wedding cake. Encounter basilisk glare from fancy-schmancy pastry chef: "We don't do wedding cakes." Look at extremely beautiful fruit flans glistening in case. Think about stacking them to make wedding cake. Realize that you will be making wedding cake. Panic.

7. Go to baking section for two boxes of cake mix and two cans of white icing. Check out cake decorating supplies and realize they have nothing for weddings unless the bride and groom are six. Remember that Valentine's Day was yesterday. SALE! Go to Valentine's Day section. Realize that Valentine's Day was four days ago. Look at two boxes of candy hearts and two forlorn cheap-ass teddy bears in pink plastic cases that say "XOXO." Blame roommate for not getting married week earlier. Buy candy hearts and cheapass teddy bears.

8. Go to floral department. Ask for wedding bouquet and two flower girl bouquets. Encounter basilisk stare of floral designer: "We don't do wedding bouquets." Face all-nighter of cake decorating and bouquet design. Roommate likes daisies. Buy two bunches of Shasta daisies and one bunch of Gerbera daisies. Ask for floral tape. Floral designer sneers. Red shoes are causing blisters. Book is still overdue. Pay for everything in despair.

9. Go home. Pass out from lack of sleep.

10. Wake up at eleven PM. Feed dogs, sick puppy. Try to put IV needle in sick puppy, jam needle in finger. Puppy escapes. Remind self not to drive or stick needles in puppies until completely awake. Remember cake and flowers. Remember vastly overdue book. Remember maid of honor is supposed to throw the bachelorette party. Get up to make cake.

11. Preheat oven. Realize that the last time you made fancy-schmancy cake, it was only a two layer job and you used two boxes of cake mix. Scrounge another twelve-cupcake box from the cabinet. Mix together with more eggs than you thought possible, gallons of water and oil.

12. Look for Wilton stackable cake pans. Search every cabinet until you remember that you put them on the overhead shelf. Cut parchment circles for bottom of pans. Butter and flour pans and put in parchment circles. Pour in batter. Put in oven. Feel professional.

13. Try to put needle in puppy again. Stab self again. Puppy moves and needle sprays water everywhere. Puppy now drenched and actively hostile. Decide to do subq tomorrow when bride can hold puppy.

14. Scrub down counter, find cake plate, get out cheap-ass bears, candy hearts. Disaster. Scrounge pink marshmallow hearts leftover from Valentine's Day, pink polka dot ribbon intended for crochet project. On whim, add pink curling ribbon from gift wrap box. Remember best friend's favorite color is yellow. Damn.

15. Feed sick puppy medicine capsule wrapped in cheese. All is forgiven. Crochet until timer rings. Cake not done. Add five minutes. Crochet until timer rings. Cake not done. Add five minutes. Crochet until timer rings. Cake not done. 1AM. Puppy no longer hostile but you are. Add five minutes. Crochet until timer rings. Cake is done.

16. Pull out cake pans and let rest but not long enough because you're bored. Flip out layers and peel off parchment; place on racks to cool. Run burned hands under cold water. Sick puppy would like more cheese. Suck it, sick puppy. Sick puppy, feeling much better, runs downstairs to hump sister. Snarling ensues.

17. Flip layers over and cut off rounded tops so layers are flat. Put trimmings in plastic bag for later, since crumbs have no calories, even if they're the size of a cake layer. Door to kitchen opens, roommate comes in. "I smelled cake." Hand over bag of crumbs.

18. Roommate tactfully does not mention three cake layers on counter. Roommate says no bachelorette party is necessary because something was making a weird, screaming sound outside and she sent groom out on deck to see what it was, so naked guy quotient is filled for the evening. Suggest screaming sound was sick puppy getting his ass handed to him by sister. "No, weirder than that." Roommate hands back rest of bag of giant crumbs, wipes chocolate from mouth, goes back to bed.

19. Look at cake layers. Realize they're not going to be cool enough to ice for an hour. Realize that bouquets must be made. Realize that there is no floral tape. Realize that red slippers cause blisters, sick puppy is still not pumped full of water, book is still vastly overdue, and it's almost 3AM. Go downstairs and get daisies.

20. Make bouquets using spotted ribbon, roll of lavender tulle intended for collage, lots of quarter inch ribbon. Fight with bouquets for significant amount of time. Details omitted because post is not called "How to Make a Wedding Bouquet." Sock them in water. Turn to cake.

21. Frost first layer. Wrap wide spotted ribbon around edge. Ribbon is so wide that entire edge is covered. Not effect wanted. Too damn bad.

22. Frost second layer. Look at pink heart-shaped marshmallows. Realize that they're not heart-shaped enough. Smush marshmallows into better heart shapes. Push into side of cake.

23. Frost top layer. Wrap with polka dot ribbon. Realize that ribbon is half inch taller than cake. Glop in more icing and smooth to make full layer.

24. Using marker, make eyes and smiles on cheap-ass bears bigger, wider. Watch as marker bleeds and cheap-ass bears become zombies-come-to-eat-your-cheap-ass bears. Pin tulle veil to top of girl cheap-ass-zombie-bear. Put glob of icing in middle of top layer; sock cheap-ass-zombie-bear asses into icing.

25. Stand back and survey work. Hmmmm. Curl much bright pink curling ribbon. Pry cheap-ass-zombie bears from icing, stick in curling ribbon. Glop more icing on top, sock cheap-ass-zombie bears back on top.

26. Stand back and survey work. Hmmmm. Lotta icing under those bears. Add candy hearts and marshmallows to cover icing.

27. Stand back and survey work. Lord, it's not good. Realize it's almost 5AM and that you should have gone to Michaels fourteen hours ago and just let Martha Stewart do everything. Decide it's roommate's fault for impulsive wedding. Realize you have no idea what you're going to wear tomorrow. Go downstairs and work on vastly overdue book until sun comes up. Fall asleep.

28. Wake up, realize it's half an hour to wedding, get dressed in favorite sundress, go to wedding in back seat of car with Sweetness and Light,. Try to keep Sweetness from shredding her bouquet. Argue with Light over the color of the Gerbera daisy in the center of hers ("Yellow." "Yellow orange." "Yellow." "Yellow at the tips, yellow-orange in the center." "Fine, whatever." "The white daisies have a purple stripe." "Kill me now.") Bride and groom in front seat holding hands, exchanging meaningful looks. Feel carsick. Bride and groom realize they are lost, peer at GPS. Feel carsicker.

29. Arrive at wedding house. Bond with officient's wife, a former art teacher. Wedding is lovely. Bride and groom so happy. Cry through whole thing in spite of snarky self. Sigh.

30. Get back in car. "This daisy is yellow-orange." Think about throwing up. Bride and groom in front seat, exchanging meaningful glances. Think about throwing up some more. Bride and groom get lost. Remember why you never married again.

31. Lunch at Olive Garden. Get out of car. Long dress pulls up to reveal leg. Realize you should have shaved legs. Also realize that you haven't had enough sleep. Avoid falling face first into entree.

32. Home for reception. Cake looks like a cheap-ass-zombie-Barbie threw up ribbon on it. Sweetness and Light love it. Bride and groom love it. Congratulate everybody and go to bed.

33. Wake up at 8PM. Go upstairs with sick puppy. Bride helps with subq. Puppy hostile until cheese meds, then all is forgiven. Bride returns to groom for wedding night. Look at cake without top layer. Realize looks much better without cheap-ass-zombie bears and curling ribbon.

Remind self to show restraint in future. Also, wear real shoes outside.

34. Eat cake. Think about how happy bride and groom are. Eat more cake. Think that maybe on the way home, you shouldn't have said, "Well, it's all downhill from here." Eat more cake. Wish bride and groom all the happiness in the world because they deserve it. Eat more cake.

Cake is delicious.

[More pictures to come.]

The Penguin of Disapproval

If you've been listening to the Popcorn Dialogues podcasts, you know that if Lani and I really don't like a movie, at some point we'll say, "Lord, it wasn't good," and then go off into hysterical laughter. We're quoting this Bloom County cartoon by the genius Berkeley Breathed featuring everybody's favorite flightless seabird, Opus (click on the strip to enlarge):

We've had this experience (ranting about something that let us down until we go over the edge and must return to the bottom line: it really stunk) a lot on PopD, enough that the whole "Lord, it wasn't good" is becoming a trope. So we've decided that, just as many institutions have a Seal of Approval, we're going to have a Penguin of Disapproval:

Okay, the image needs work and we'll fix it, but I'm thinking it will be good for things beyond Ninotchka, Barefoot in the Park, and The Holiday. Like the bowdlerized version of Huckleberry Finn. And the attempts to repeal health care. And jeggings. Really, I'm wondering how we ever got along without it.

The Penguin of Disapproval. Watch for it on a huge mistake near you.

PopD: And Now For Something Completely Different

We're starting our Hitmen in Love series on PopD Sunday night at 7PM ET with Diana Rigg and Oliver Reed in The Assassination Bureau, but let's face it, love stories about hitmen are just romantic comedies with extra blood and violence. So we thought for the series after that, starting in April, we'd do a little romcom antidote and go for a series of Guy Comedies:

Guy Comedy is comedy written by guys for guys in a guy POV full of stuff that guys find funny. Guy Comedy doesn't care how low or ridiculous it goes to make you laugh, or how many marginalized women it uses to accessorize the story, so leave your taste, maturity, and feminism at the door. This is Guy Land.

Both Dodgeball and Hot Tub Time Machine are non-negotiable: they're goin' on the list. But after that we went through several ideas, and I did an internet search, and we ended up . . . not sure. At all. So of course, we turn to the Argh People again, forgiving you for having voted for The Holiday for the first series. (What were you thinking?)

Zombies and other monsters are out because that's horror or sf, but otherwise we're open. What dumb guy comedies would you add to this list? And what movies do you think MUST be on the list? (Besides Dodgeball and Hot Tub Time Machine, of course.)

American Pie

Animal House

The Big Lebowski

Caddyshack

Dodgeball

Fired Up

The Hangover

Hot Tub Time Machine

Real Genius

Swingers

Weekend at Bernies

Warning: if this gets too confusing, there's gonna be another poll.

One Announcement, Two Questions, All PR

First, an announcement:

Lucy March (Lani Diane Rich) and Alastair Stevens (That Guy From Scotland) of the immensely popular StoryWonk workshops are starting new classes. From Lani:

We're doing one-day seminars in romance, sci-fi/fantasy, short stories and character building, and then 4-week classes in May about building magic and doing Discovery Writing.

All information at StoryWonk.com.

And now for our regularly scheduled Exploitation of the Argh People:

You may have noticed that you are rapidly becoming a focus group. So we have two questions, one from Mollie and one from me (and Mollie).

From Mollie:

If an author holds a contest during the first week that his or her new book is on sale and the contest prize is a package that includes a signed copy of that new book, do you put off buying that book on the chance that you'll win the contest? And let's stipulate that it is not a hardcover edition.

In other words could a contest meant to spread the word about a book release and push early sales actually hurt early sales if the prize includes the book? Or do readers purchase the book anyway and then sign up hoping for an extra copy to keep/give away?

My question is a little more challenging. Because I know you can take it and run with it.

Facebook did a redesign and now puts five tiny thumbnails at the top of the Wall page. Clearly, this is an excellent place to plan graphic punch. Except the geniuses at Facebook have decided that the order of those five pictures will be random. You refresh the page, the order changes. So I'm looking for ideas for five images that can be in any order that would be fun to look at on the Jennifer Crusie Wall.

I had three ideas (mock-ups below, sure to change if they're even used):

One word quotes from reviews:

\

The five elements of a Crusie:

The dogs:

Any other ideas?

And as always, we thank you for your support.

17 Reasons Why Entertainment Weekly Is Wrong About Romantic Comedy

Entertainment Weekly posted a list of "24 RomCom Cliches We'd Retire." I've spent the past eight months studying romantic comedy at Popcorn Dialogues, the last twenty years writing romantic comedy, and the last forty-five years watching it, and I feel this is a topic I have some expertise on. So this is a list of 17 reasons why Entertainment Weekly's thinking on romantic comedy is biased, sloppy, and often dumb, plus seven things they got right. Sort of.

24. The heroine works in the media.

I have no idea why this is a romcom cliche. The reporter on the trail of a story is a staple in fiction; see Russell Crowe in State of Play. Why should some jobs be off limits? Unless they're thinking it's weird women are in the media. No, they're in the media, they can't be that close-minded. Makes no sense.

23. The Last Minute Sprint aka The RomCom Run

This is practically a drinking game at PopD so this one I'll agree with.

22. Introducing Magic into the Plot

The two examples given are Simply Irresistible and Practical Magic, both of which are movies about magic. It's not introduced to solve a problem, it's a central thread of the movie. The sisters in Practical Magic are witches, for heaven's sake, how is magic a cliche? Are they bitching about Harry Potter's wand or Luke Skywalker's Force or Wolverine's fingernails? No. Of course, those are guys. So magic is only a cliche for women in love? I don't think so.

21: Mischievous Dogs.

Romcom heroines shouldn't have dogs? Don't make me come over there and slap you.

20. Working Girl Needs Balance

Since when is being a workaholic a girl thing?

19. Mr. and Mrs. Right in Front of You

Suddenly discovering your best friend is your one true love is a popular trope in romcom, so at least on this one they're not being ridiculous. But I'd defend this one as not a cliche but as a subgenre, like the buddy cop movie. If they're going to call buddy cop movies a cliche, I'll give them this one. If buddy cop movies are a subgenre, then so is this.

18. Love at First Fight

They meet and don't like each other and fight and fall in love. It wasn't a cliche when Shakespeare did it and it's not in Ten Things I Hate About You, either. It's a character thing.

17. Clumsy Heroines

You know, I've watched 36 romcoms in eight months, and I can't remember a clumsy heroine. They cite several, but if it's a cliche, shouldn't it have turned up sometime in there? Unless they're thinking all romcom heroines have to be graceful? But then wouldn't that be a cliche?

16. Blooming Wallflowers aka The Makeover

Yep, this is a cliche. The transformative power of love usually does not involve a new hairstyle and a slamming gown.

15. The Lonely Montage

This one's weird. I'd have been with them if they'd said the Relationship Montage, the one that summarizes what happens after the first step to commitment, the one that shows them walking on the beach, shopping for quirky things, putting ice cream on each other's noses, and other cute Us Moments that show that now they're in a relationship, that montage, yes, that's a cliche. But I don't remember seeing any Lonely Montages this year, although now that I read EW I find that I did in When Harry Met Sally . . . I'll give them this one just because I think romcom abuses the montage more than most genres, but I don't see the Lonely Montage as a huge problem. It's a Montage-in-General problem.

14. Bad Influence Buddies

The hero's best friends give him bad advice. I haven't seen any of the movies they cited, but of the 36 romcoms I have seen this year (and countless others), I don't remember any that did this. Doesn't mean they aren't out there, just means I never said, "Oh, not this again." Unless you count Jim Belushi telling Rob Lowe that the best thing that could happen to him was an industrial accident. Great line. Also, aren't there Bad Influence Buddies in all the guy comedies, too? I think if it's a romcom cliche it has to have something to do with that genre particularly (the romcom run, the romance montage) rather than a reflection of one gender's inability to provide good advice across the spectrum.

13. Ridiculous Proofs of Love aka The Sign

"If we're meant to be together, a rose will bloom on the site where we met." I'm with them on this one, unless the premise of the movie contains real magic in which case, there's a logical reason for it. Not sure it happens often enough to be called a cliche, but it's annoying as all hell.

12. Easy Sex

This is the one where the girl says yes and the guy refuses because he loves her too much to sleep with her under those conditions (drunk, upset, etc.). I don't think it's a cliche–again, that means it has to happen a lot–and I don't think it's unbelievable that a good guy would refuse to sleep with a drunk or distraught woman. Maybe I have more faith in men than EW.

11. Schlubby Guy, Pretty Girl

EW must have a heart of stone. Only good looking people fall in love with each other? They'd have had a better chance of convincing me if they hadn't used Albert and Allegra from Hitch as their example. Do not doubt the power of Albert and Allegra. Then they followed it up with Steve Martin and Daryl Hannah in Roxanne. Please.

10. Heroines as Bad Drivers

They cite two movies to show this is a cliche. I have news: it's a cliche in real life, too, but that doesn't make it a romcom staple.

9. People Pretending To Be Who They Aren't aka The Big Misunderstanding

Because nobody ever goes undercover in cop movies. Still, I'm going to give them this one because I think the whole "you lied to me" conflict is such a loser, and it's part of this. However, I would call this one The Big Misunderstanding, the thing that if they just TALKED to each other would not be a problem. The old "You spent the night in your apartment with her!" "She's my sister!" climax. Yeah, that's a cliche.

8. PDA Climax aka the PDAC

I hate this one with the passion of a thousand firey suns. It's not real love unless you declare your passion in front of a crowd, preferably one that's willing to cheer. Bleah. The Rom Com Run can be done well, the Big Misunderstanding is just annoying, but the PDA Climax makes me want to throw something at the screen.

7. The Top of the Stairs Moment

This is the one where the heroine appears at the top of the stairs transformed and the hero is stunned by her beauty. Except we did this back in #16 Blooming Wallflowers and I'm not giving credit twice.

6. Eating for Two or Three

I don't get this one at all. Heroines with hearty appetites are a cliche? I'm not seeing this repeated, the example they give (Two Weeks Notice) makes no sense since she's ordering Chinese for dinner not snacking through the day, and I'm very suspicious of anything that implies that a heroine is eating too much. That's Hollywood for you.

5. Egregious Girl Bonding

They don't like scenes where girls bond by laughing and singing together. They'd hate my life. What are we supposed to do, watch the game instead?

4. Wet Climax

The old last scene where they kiss in the rain. Wasn't that in Spiderman? The two they cite are Four Weddings and a Funeral and Breakfast at Tiffany's. Two examples do not make a cliche, and you want to come over here and say that again about Breakfast at Tiffany's? Wait a minute. Breakfast at Tiffany's wasn't a romantic comedy. Jesus, people, what did you do, get drunk and say, "I got an idea for a column, let's make up stuff about romantic comedy"?

3. The Dress Montage

This is the one where the heroine tries on a lot of dresses. I do not remember seeing this a lot. There's definitely one in 27 Dresses, but, uh, check the title. The dresses were part of the plot. Cher did the whole computer dress thing in Clueless, but again, part of character development, not egregious. They also cite Sex and the City. Sex and the City is not a romantic comedy, the entire movie is a dress montage. Also, I gave credit for montage as a cliche in romcom and I'm not doing that twice.

2. Singing into Objects

Again with the bias against singing women, which they already expressed above. Redundancy is not good in magazine articles. Also, lots of people sing when they're alone. It's not a cliche, it's a fact of life.

1. Quirky BFF aka the Funny Friend

Yeah, that's a cliche and has been all the way back to Ruth Hussey and Joan Blondell. Let's make the wisecracking friend the heroine and give her a beautiful BFF. And while we're at it, let's do the same for the guys. Oh, wait we can't do that because then a schlubby person would get a pretty person and who would believe that? Damn.

So after we get rid of all the non-cliches and the repeats, we're left with the RomCom Run, the Makeover, the Montage, the Sign, the Big Misunderstanding, the PDAC, and the Funny Friend. But here's the thing: every one of these can be wonderful if done well, so suggesting they be retired is dumb. Storytelling cliches are cliches for a reason: People like them. Some of the best movies of all time were cliches when they were made. Or as my creative writing prof used to say, you can use any cliche you want, you just have to do the best job of using that cliche in the history of storytelling.

One other thing. You know what the top cliche in magazine articles is? Lists. I'd retire that if I were you, EW.

Good Blog: Hyperbole and a Half

This post is such a cheat because (a) I just did a Good Blog post yesterday and (b) Lani linked to it first on her blog which is where I found it. But really, Allie Brosh is a genius.

Do not read about how a fish almost destroyed her childhood but definitely read about The God of Cake. And take the Pain Chart to the doctor with you next time. And by all means, do not miss Wolves.

Good Blog: Australian Portraits 1920

Rox sent our critique group, the Glindas, to la boite verte to see pictures like this:

. . . and this:

Some of the Glindas thought the pictures were terribly sad; Rox and I have hearts of stone and just thought they were fascinating. Okay, some are really sad . . .



especially when you find out they're mug shots. All those people have just been arrested and yet I thought most of them were looking together and some of them were absolutely cocky.

Mostly I wanted to know the stories. What were they arrested for? Con games, prostitution, theft, murder? All kinds of things going on in those photos, if we only knew . . .

Okay, maybe they are really sad.

Damn Carrots

I finished the first scene of Haunting Alice and sent it to Jen yesterday (Tuesday), and then I sat back and thought about what I'd done. And, to quote Opus, "Lord, it wasn't good." Sunday night we watched Hitch for PopD which I've also been thinking about a lot. Both stories have led me back to the Grail Cup of fiction writing–Character is Everything (plus its coaster Don't Write the Parts People Skip)–which has made me realize FINALLY why it takes me so damn long to write a book. We're talking Epiphany Territory here. I'd have sat up and shouted "Eureka," but it upsets the dogs. So . . .

(eureka)

I can't make a book work until the characters are alive in my head. But if I waited for that to start writing, I'd never get anything done, so I go ahead and start writing, and I know the stuff isn't right, I know it's not there yet, but I keep going anyway. And I discover great stuff along the way like Kimberley and Oingo Boingo, and plot threads pop up and it's all good but it's not soup yet, it's just a bunch of ingredients floating around in uninspiring water. There is no steam. The carrots, to extend a metaphor, are still crunchy. It's the Damp Carrots Stage.

This stage is worrisome because everything feels so wrong, but it's a process, so I keep going. And going. And going. And it still isn't right and I get a little weepy. I think about my career. Twenty books. Twenty published books is a damn good career. With the reprints, more than half of them have been NYT bestsellers. In some circles, I am considered a success. I could quit now. No shame in that. Well, except that I quit in the middle of a book. That's horrible, to just leave those carrots sinking to the bottom of a cold plot. That's a Frankenstein Mistake: if you create something, you are honor-bound to see it through and take care of it. So I have to finish the book. But after that, I can quit if I want to. Back to work.

The problem with the Haunting Alice first scene is that I kept adding ingredients but I couldn't get it to cook. Alice was just bitchy. Ethan wouldn't even come on the page so he was just an empty army surplus jacket. Isolde refused to say a word. They knew it was wrong, but I kept shoving them around. And then it was Feb. 1 and it had to be in and I sent to Jen and felt huge relief for about a nanosecond and then I realized what I was doing. So at six AM this morning, I'm still awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to fix this and I cannot think of a way. But twenty books is a career . . .

Then Jen e-mailed me and said the scene was fine but that we didn't need to use it if I didn't want to, and I said, "Yes, please, let's not use it." And she said, "No problem," and I heaved a sigh of relief. Which is when I saw the Hitch connection.

Hitch is a movie about a man who understands women so well that he can teach other men how to get over their nervousness and connect with the girls of their dreams. I love Will Smith, and the client he's working with for the majority of the movie is Kevin James who is excellent, so I had high hopes. But what emerged during the movie and especially during the podcast afterwards, was that we (Lucy March/Lani Diane Rich) didn't give a damn about Hitch and his girl but we were all over the secondary couple. Albert and Allegra were worlds apart, but they were both vulnerable and both real and as they struggled to put a relationship together, the story arcs their conflict in wonderful small moments that make you root for them every time until the climax of their subplot when Albert suddenly throws his inhaler away and kisses her and then dances in the street. I'm telling you, THAT's a romance story. And then in the climax of the main plot, when Allegra says, "He threw his inhaler away before he kissed me!" and you know that she knew he was a geek the whole time, well, your heart melts a little. These two crazy kids are gonna make it work. Especially after that wedding dance. We loved Albert and Allegra.

But Hitch and Sarah? They have no problems. They mill around the plot looking like raw vegetables next to the bright and steamy Albert and Allegra. If the main plot needs romance, Hitch and Sarah kiss. If the plot needs conflict, they fight. Or she cries. Or he has an inexplicable food allergy. Or the writers throw a Big Misunderstanding at them. There are so many WTF? moments in the Hitch-and-Sarah plot (they throw vegetables at each other? Really?) that I stopped listening to it and started thinking about other things, like how bad Alice and Ethan were and how twenty books is a career. Then Albert and Allegra would show up and I'd forget all that and think, "Come on, Allegra, he's darling, get a clue." (The parts with Hitch and Albert were also brilliant, which leads me to the conclusion that Albert is the heart of this movie. Albert is one well-cooked carrot.)

So here's what I think. I think the subplot was so simple, the characters so diametrically opposed (he's an overweight schlub of a junior lawyer in her investment firm; she's a beautiful, famous socialite) that writing a plot that flowed from their inherent conflict was a natural thing. What will happen if Albert and Allegra go to a party with all her famous friends? He's the only one who will really listen to her and then defend her again the morons, and she'll think he's great. What will happen if Albert and Allegra go to a game? He'll get mustard on his jacket and teach her to whistle and be really happy for her when she get it right, and she'll be charmed by what a good guy he is. The characters were simple without being stereotypes: Albert might look like a schlub but he's smart and funny and he really cares about Allegra beyond her wealth and beauty. And Allegra might look like a sophisticated professional beauty but she's vulnerable and lonely and warm-hearted and once she really looks at Albert, she's a goner. The writers knew those characters and wrote a good, simple, basic plot arc for them that was character-driven and real.

Then they got to Hitch and Sarah and knew they were in trouble because they'd created Perfect People.

Hitch is smart, funny, handsome, charming, successful, hardworking, confident, and rich enough to have one of those great NYC apartments you always see in the movies. Also, he never fails. Put him head to head with schlubby Albert in a story and Albert is going to kick his ass every time because we care desperately about Albert while Hitch already has everything, so later for him. Sarah is smart, funny, beautiful, charming, successful, hardworking, confident, and rich enough to have one of those great NYC apartments you also see in the movies. She never has an uncertain moment. Put her head to head with awkward, lonely Allegra and Allegra will walk all over her every time because we're worried about Allegra while Sarah can do anything, so later for her. The Perfect People romance almost always leads to Dumb Conflicts because if these people are that sharp, there is no impediment to their relationship. Which is when the writers order half a dozen Big Misunderstandings from Amazon because they have free shipping. It's impossible to stick two Perfect People together because their shiny surfaces make them slide off each other, so I never believed that Hitch and Sarah loved each other. And that killed any emotional involvement I might have.

I think Alice and Ethan were pale, shapeless versions of Perfect People. They were both exasperated at the situation they found themselves in, but they had no stake in that first scene, there was never a moment where they broke a sweat, there was nothing in that scene that either of them couldn't have handled with their eyes closed. And because they were both shiny smooth generic Perfect People, they were annoying. Everybody in that scene was annoying. I need to write Albert-and-Allegras, not Hitch-and-Sarahs. Which means I have to know Alice and Ethan as grown-ups well enough to show their vulnerabilities, to find out what they want and need that will make them break a sweat. And that scene did not do it.

So I forgot that character is everything and wrote Perfect People which means that no matter how much I turn up the heat, those damn carrots will not cook. Thank God for Jen Enderlin being so understanding. And now I must go back to Liz whose carrots have been simmering for awhile, so now I can turn up the heat and get somewhere. And then when I finish Lavender, I can quit, because twenty books is a career. Except that I already know what the plots of Pink, Peach, and Yellow are, so I'll have to finish those. And then I'll have to fix this Alice book and the Nadine book, but then I'm quitting. Because twenty-six books is a career. Probably.

Thought for Today: No Damp Carrots. Thank you.