Gabi Stevens's Blog, page 14

I love Cheese

No, not the dairy kind (Actually, I do love the diary kind too). I mean the emotional schmaltz that brings sappy tears to the eyes or laughter to the lips or cheers to the throngs. Let's face it: the world would be a better place if it were cheesier. We'd have more happy endings, more villains getting their just deserts, more moments of laughter, more real causes to root for, more fun.
Things on my list of sublime cheesiness: flash mobs ; Disney movies; Hallmark commercials; superheroes; happy endings; puppies; balloons; showy proposals; old people holding hands; romance novels. How can you not like them? Cheesy things make the world livable, renew your faith in mankind, and just give you a warm feeling overall. Ballons a group of readers surprised me with yesterday. The blue one says "Make a Wish"So I hereby promise to live my life with all the cheesy goodness I can. I will forget on occasion, I'm sure, but long live the cheese. Life is too short to take it too seriously.
--GabiBooks I'm reading now:
The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

You want to see me in person, right?

In about two weeks I will be in Anaheim at the RWA National Convention. There will be a huge signing (HUGE--400 plus authors) on July 25 at the Anaheim Convention Center from 5:30 PM to 8:00 PM. No outside books will be allowed because this is a signing for literacy. All proceeds go to combating illiteracy in America, with a portion going to a local agency. Authors won't be set up in alphabetical order, however. All attendees will be given a map, and each table will have a number.  So be sure to look for me under Gabi Stevens. A little complicated, but we all know romance readers are smart. In addition, I'm speaking at the conference on Saturday afternoon (July 28) at 12:45 PM on "The Meaning of Life: Theme." I love this topic. ALl about the meaning of the books we love to read. Yes, despite what you may think, all books have themes and I'm going to help my listeners suss out the meanings of theirs. Honestly, we don't set out to write about meaning--we just try to tell a story--but it happens anyway. Remember back in school when you used to question your teachers whether the author meant to put such meaning into their books. Of course they didn't. It happens anyway. And that's what I'm talking about.I hope I'll see some of you in Anaheim. I may be tired at the signing. If all goes as planned, I'm doing Disney the day before. :)And a month after RWA I'll be in Albuquerque at Bubonicon, but more on that later.--GabiBooks I'm reading now:
The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

Becoming a curmudgeon...

Questions I've been pondering lately:Why are all the voices in my head speaking to me in first person when I like third person books?
How does one change his or her luck? (And don't tell me, "be prepared," because that's already taken care of)
Why does bread have to taste so good? (And on the same note, why are vegetables so yucky?)
Why do we tell children to act their age, then as adults tell ourselves never to grow up?
Why do people want flying cars? Do you really want the idiots on the road to be flying above your head?
Whether or not you "believe" in global warming is irrelevant. Can't we agree that coming up with an alternative to spewing poisons in the air, protecting the earth, and removing the influence of huge corporations from government is a good thing? (I'm not saying "no oil", I'm saying research is good.)
Why am I so freaked out by insects when I'm a gagillion times bigger than they are?
When did I develop my fear of heights that nearly crippled me climbing the towers of Europe last summer? (I have sworn never to climb a tower again--although I can come up with at least a dozen scenarios in my writer's brain which would compel me to break that vow--so I can honestly say that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is the last tower I shall ever climb.)
How can I love liverwurst, but hate liver; love almonds (and these great Hungarian almond cookies), but hate Amaretto (same goes for hazelnuts and Frangelico); love pickles, but not relish; cook with olive oil, but hate olives; hate coffee (black), but love coffee ice cream?
When is it officially okay to become a curmudgeon? --Gabi
Books I"m reading now:The Guns of August by Barbara TuchmanThe Queen of Babble Gets Hitched by Meg Cabot

Best tweet series ever...

@GabiStevens I literally just stayed up all night finishing Wishful Thinking. I cried so hard that if small animals or children had been....
— Holly E. McG (@McG3oH) June 29, 2012

@GabiStevens around they would have drowned. I usually hate when books make me cry but I loved this one and the whole series so much!.....
— Holly E. McG (@McG3oH) June 29, 2012

@GabiStevens I know it's over but if anymore were to come around, I can't say I would be upset. Thank you so much for an amazing escape!! :D
— Holly E. McG (@McG3oH) June 29, 2012

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:

The Pleasure of Your Kiss by Teresa Medeiros
The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman

RomCon 2012

So I'm in Denver for the third year in a row at RomCon. It's a relatively new romance fan conference, and I've been lucky to attend these past few years.This morning I was a participant in the Quick Draw game--10 authors chose words from their novels and then had to draw these words in a picture charades type game. There is a reason I'm an author and not an artist. I picked about thirty words  from WISHFUL THINKING. Some were easy to convey: wand, whale, skunk (surprisingly easy), champagne, pizza; and then there were others: magic, wish, hyacinth (I don't even know what a hyacinth looks like--okay, I just googled it). "Loom" was interesting, but almost every group got it. I haven't laughed that much in long time. And it exhausted me too.
Before that I was privileged to hear Teresa Medeiros speak. I want her eloquence when defending romance. She spoke with such humor and grace and made me absolutely proud to be a romance author. You know, I really am coming to believe that romance is one of the most subversive genres out there(allowing women to be the heroine of their own lives, to give power to love, to explore female sexuality without punishment. Poor Anna Karenina). Heh heh heh.
Stay tuned. I plan to post more, but for now I have to get ready for the Dine-In for Interspecies Peace. And then on to Monte Carlo Night. Gambling and fun. 
And if I can at all remember, I'll get some pictures up too. (I've taken one.)--GabiBooks I'm reading now:The Guns of August by Barbara TuchmanThe Pleasure of Your Kiss by Teresa Medeiros

Weird stuff

Do you have a favorite or lucky number? I don't. One number is pretty much the same to me although I will admit I like odd numbers better than even. And I will admit I have a least favorite number. 6. Don't know why. I don't like the number six. WHen I do a sudoku puzzle I either wait until just before the end to do the sixes (because I don't want my puzzle fun to end on a 6) or I do them first to get them out of the way. I'm the same with colors. I don't really have a favorite color. There are days when I'm yellow, or green or purple or pink. I even like brown and on occasion beige. But I do have a least favorite color--blue. If I find a clothing style I like it only comes in blue, I won't get it. I do make an exception for blue jeans, but you really won't find blue in my closet. Teal, turquoise, but no blue or navy.
Favorite food? Easy. Sushi. And in a close second, everything else except olives, liver (but I like liverwurst), sweet potatoes, okra, and stinky cheese. (Okay, that's a hyperbole, but I really don't like olives, liver, sweet potatoes, okra, or stinky cheese.) And if you ask me whether I like sweet or salty, I'll pick salty every time. And vanilla over chocolate, milk over dark, and Team Jacob over Team Edward (but that's neither here nor there).
We all have weird stuff in our lives/heads. I'm afraid of moths--less afraid of butterflies, but they have that weird flitty thing going on too. I discovered a real fear of heights last summer while climbing towers in the Strasbourg cathedral and on that trip I decided I will never do heights again, after making the Tower of Pisa my tower climb ever. I felt it a fitting end. I stayed in a hotel in NYC this March on the 50th floor. First thing I did was close the curtains and I never looked out. Funny. It doesn't trouble me while flying.
I love the little quirks that make us individuals. In THE WISH LIST, my heroine, Kristin, likes Chocolate Chipless cookies. That's because those are my favorites. All the dough, none of the chocolate.
So what are some of your quirks? I'd love to know. But don't be surprised if they end up in a book.--Gabi
Books I'm reading now:Guns of August by Barbara TuchmanA Night Like This by Julia Quinn

Countdown to Father's Day

When I think of the books I've written, very seldom do I have a father of a main character appear in the story, which is, some would say, typical of romance, since most romance heroines are orphans, either symbolically  or literally. (Gosh that was along sentence.) In THE WISH LIST, Kristin's parents were older and are both dead by the time the story starts. In AS YOU WISH, Reggie's father is still around, but he was always detached, not unloving, just detached. In WISHFUL THINKING, though, Stormy hits the jackpot. She has two dads and a biological mother who all care for her, but the dads especially. In TEMPTATION'S WARRIOR (under the name Gabi Anderson) Elf is an orphan. It's an interesting aspect of writing my novels--where are the main characters' parents. The heroes don't often have them either. Or have just one. Or are simply not mentioned.
My own father died over twenty years ago, but I feel his influence everyday. And especially since we have a special day in  June (I'm a few days early--sue me) to celebrate dads, I've been thinking about mine. He was a big guy--six feet tall--and when we won on Family Feud (another story), he hugged Richard Dawson so hard that Mr. Dawson made jokes about it the next day. He had a heavy Hungarian accent--if an American called him at home, his conversation mostly consisted of saying, "Ja" (like the German yes), yet he read the paper daily without difficulty. When he first met my future husband, he hugged him. Picture a six foot three American guy being embraced by this bear of a man. The look of shock on the then-boyfriend's face is a memory etched with grins in my mind. And since my dad had only daughters, at the end of that visit, he took my husband aside and said, "Let's go to the garage, and let me give you some tools." And he did. (We still have some of them.)
My father didn't cook. As far as I remember he could make scrambled eggs and that's about it. As far as I remember he didn't even grill. When we'd set up our barbeque, he'd load the briquets, start the fire, but my mom grilled (My memory could be wrong here, but I just don't remember him cooking).
He was smart, but not obnoxiously so (that I reserve for myself and my husband-hahaha), but he was the wisest man I ever knew. I had an unusual last name, and when I married, I decided to take my husband's name. I asked my father if he minded that there would be no more Stefels, and he said, "Names don't matter. People do."So I hope you'll indulge me as I revisit memories of my father. And if not, well, you're not writing this blog are you, but you can certainly complain in the comments. :)--Gabi
Books I'm reading now:Soul of the Highlander by Melissa MayhueThe Mischief of the Mistletoe by Lauren WilligFrom the Corner of his Eye by Dean Koontz

True Confessions

Have you ever learned something about someone that shocked you? Well, prepare to be shocked. I'm about to make some true confessions.1. I'm not a fan of chocolate. It's okay, as long as it's milk and filled with nuts or peanut butter, and not fruit. All those article that tout the health benefits of dark chocolate? Lost on me because I really dislike dark chocolate.2. I'm not a fan of coffee. Oh don't get me wrong, I enjoy it with tons of cream and sugar so it tastes like hot, melted coffee ice cream (one of my favorite flavors), but black? Yuck. Again, those recent health benefits they've discovered? Yeah, I'm out of luck on those too.3.I don't like olives, not black, not green, not stuffed, not pickled. I will use olive oil to cook, but don't put them on my pizzas, my Mexican food, or in my salads. And speaking of Mexican food...4. I like Taco Bell. Okay, I don't really count it as Mexican food because I really like Mexican food, but I do like Taco Bell. I know I shouldn't and purists will laugh at me, but I told you it was confession time.5. Be prepared for this one. I tried, but I just couldn't get into Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I like other Joss Whedon stuff (Firefly, which I just discovered, Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog), but not Buffy. Don't worry. I'm not team Edward either. (Ooo, and this might count as a confession too--I haven't seen Avengers yet. I plan to, but graduations and then foot surgery got  in the way.)6. I am lazy by nature. Sure, you can argue since I have actually had books published that I am disciplined, but I'd argue I've succeeded in spite of my natural lazy inclinations. I think the reason I can actually hold a job or write a book is that my sense of responsibility is hyperactive. At least that's what my husband says.Okay, I feel better now. Have anything you'd like to get off your chest?--GabiBooks I'm reading now:From the Corner of his Eye by Dean Koontz

Commencement

My two daughters (twins, you know) both graduate from college (Hey, I had them when I was 12...ish) this weekend. Yes, at the same time--well a day apart, but in different areas of the country. Their father and I are quite used to the divide and conquer strategy required when one has twins. Throughout elementary school, middle school, and high school, we split up on open house.  I took one kid to college, he took the other (because they started at the same time, you know); I'm attending the kid-whom-I-didn't-take's graduation in Massachusetts, and he's flying to Atlanta for the other's. And then they will have their own lives. (Yeah, yeah, I'm not going to talk about boomerang kids; one is already gainfully employed, and the other majored in CS and hasn't started her search yet because she was doing schoolwork, but we have no doubts she soon will be a productive member of society.)
Have you ever wondered why it's called commencement? Because it is a new beginning. One stage of life ends because a new one is about to begin. That's what my girls are facing next week--the commencement of their next lives. Because I firmly believe we have life stages. First we're children, then teenagers, then adults. Then job holders, spouses, parents, grandparents, retirees, etc. I was a teacher for seven years (I quit a year ago--a whole other story), now I write full-time in addition to family duties, which I did before, but this time I don't have little ones running around while I attempt to create. And I'm still in development. My trilogy just finished up (The Wish List, As You Wish, Wishful Thinking) and right now I have nothing coming out from a major publisher (but my agent is shopping around a ms as I type this), and I'm getting ready to release my second self-pubbed title (The first was a backlist historical romance, Temptation's Warrior). And I'm still working on that next step. Success has been elusive (my definition of success in any case), but I've had a little, and I'm still plugging away.
That's the great thing about commencement. It's a new beginning, the next stage, and you can have one at any time. You don't have to wait for January 1. You can start tomorrow. Or right now.
Congratulations, baby girls.--Mom (I mean, Gabi)

Books I'm reading now:Timeless by Gail CarrigerJust Down the Road by Jodi Thomas

How Star Wars Changed my Life

I had heard that it was a great movie. That I had to go see it. The buzz was everywhere. So my mother and I went on a mommy date to Westwood to watch this new movie called Star Wars. We waited in line for over an hour (that was my first time for an over an hour wait--lining up at the movie theater? Unheard of.) And then the titles started to roll, and I mean roll. What followed was an amazing 122 minutes of an adventure that spoke to me. It had good guys and bad guys and robots. A love story (I knew it was coming). Good vs. Evil. And space. Who knew I liked space?I saw that movie six times that summer (I was in boarding school at the time and didn't get to the movies during the school year). And the way it was told, the story line, the over-the-top-grab-your-seat adventure changed the way I viewed books and movies. That's what I wanted to see and read. And when it came time to realize that I am a writer, that's the kind of story I wanted to tell--plot (lots of it) characters to root for, villains to fight, a cause worth dying for, and adventure--maybe not between stars, but big for the setting.My mother hated the movie.(May the 4th be with you. There is nothing inner about my geek.)--GabiBooks I'm reading now:Timeless by Gail Carriger