SquawkRadio

1) If you’re suspected of murdering your first wife, by all means, don’t spoil the suspense by telling your new bride that you’re innocent. Why deprive her of the chance to wander around your town house/manor house/castle in her semi-transparent nightgown searching for clues? Women love a man of mystery!

2) If you have a lookalike twin/cousin/illegitimate brother, make sure and impersonate him at some point (preferably at a masquerade ball) so you can steal a kiss from your ladylove. Just don’t pout and brood if she decides she prefers his kisses to yours.

3) If you fall off your horse, hit your head and develop amnesia, be very suspect of a pretty girl who tries to convince you that you’re her long lost fiance or husband.

4) If you’re ever afflicted with temporary blindness due to your own selfless, heroic actions in battle, insist that your butler hire the most sharp-tongued shrew he can find to be your new nurse. Her incessant nagging will surely inspire your rapid return to good health.

5) Never try to tame that stubborn forelock that tumbles over your brow. Women love any excuse to tenderly brush it back with their yearning fingertips.

6) If you’re rendered unconscious for any reason, continue to feign unconsciousness until your ladylove is compelled to give you a bath. (This could take days depending on how fastidious she is). But do plan on waking up the moment she decides to steal a naughty peek beneath the covers.

7) Always make the time to practice your brooding, sardonic look in front of the mirror. Ladies love that.

8) Cultivate a friendship with a witty, smart-mouthed brother/cousin/friend/valet who can serve as both your confidante and your conscience when the light of your life isn’t around.

9) If you find yourself strangely attracted to a slender lad with a particularly pretty face and long lashes, you might want to double check and make sure it’s not really some buxom lass masquerading as a cabin boy/squire. (If not, perhaps you’ve been spending too much time at your gentleman’s club.)

10) And most importantly, you may pine for a woman for months (or even years!) but you must never confess your love for her until you’re standing on a windswept cliff with the villain thundering toward you and both of your lives are in dire peril.

So what relationship advice would you like to give your favorite romance hero?

TODAY’S SPECIAL SQUAWK ANNIVERSARY PRIZE WILL BE A SET OF PERSONALIZED AUTOGRAPHED HARDCOVERS OF AFTER MIDNIGHT AND THE VAMPIRE WHO LOVED ME BY TERESA!  WINNERS WILL BE CHOSEN FROM THE SQUAWK RADIO MEMBER LIST SO MAKE SURE AND JOIN UP IF YOU HAVEN’T. CHECK BACK AFTER 7 PM TONIGHT TO FIND OUT WHO THE LUCKY WINNER IS! 

AND TUNE IN LATER THIS AFTERNOON FOR ANOTHER ONE OF TERESA’S CLASSIC BLOGS!
Teresa’s Website

Thanks to all of our devoted Squawkees out there in Blogland, we’ll be celebrating SQUAWK RADIO’s SECOND ANNIVERSARY for the next two weeks.  That’s right, on April 18th, SQUAWK RADIO will turn two years old!  (Like most toddlers, we like to have our own way and we get pretty cranky without our naps.) Since you, our loyal and witty readers, are the ones who helped to make this moment possible, we’re going to be giving away a lot of exciting contest prizes every day for the next two weeks.  AND you can tune in Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of both weeks for reprints of some of your favorite Classic Squawk Blogs. 

TODAY’S CONTEST WINNER will be chosen from our MEMBER LIST and will receive autographed books from all six Squawkers PLUS a delicious box of Godiva chocolate to savor while they’re reading!  So if you haven’t joined the MEMBER LIST, now is the time!  (And make sure and tell all of your friends!)

We’ll start off today by letting Kitty...um...Connie...explain how SQUAWK RADIO got started:  Connie writes, “It wasn’t exactly a “ta-dah” moment.  I’d been reading some blogs by other authors.  They were wonderful but definitely slanted towards writers.  I wanted to find a way to connect with readers.  Create a place where the readers could schmooze and take a peek into my glamorous life and be awed by my witty observations… But then I realized that I didn’t have a glamorous life and my witty observations could keep a blog running for about ten minutes.

The other Squawkers and I had already fallen into e-mailing each other on a daily basis about things like “Is a red wine stain a lifelong commitment?” and “Can I name my construction worker hero ‘Rod Steel?’” You know, important things.  Things women who write really talk about, but more importantly, things women really talk about.  Once I talked to Christina, it didn’t take long to realize that for all practical purposes SQUAWK RADIO already existed; we just needed to take it public.

Since no one but us read our first few exchanges on the blog, we’d like to invite you to hop into your time machine and take a trip back to MONDAY APRIL 18th 2005 when Connie first said those immortal words:

“WELCOME TO SQUAWK RADIO!”
A hearty welcome to all those who have chosen to peek in on the proceedings. We’ll be up and posting the first blog within the week--and as soon as I can figure out how to do cascading style sheets we may even have pictures of us all gracing the background of the blog!

FOUR REASONS TERESA MEDEIROS DIDN’T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN A BLOG
1) I think they’re pointless exercises in egotism. Just because I’m a bestselling author, why should anyone care what I think about the latest publishing scandal or last week’s episode of DR. PHIL? (Oh my gosh! Did anybody see it a couple of weeks ago when Sharon and Ozzy Osborne were on?)
2) Because I’m a very shy and private person who hates to reveal details about her personal life (Did I ever tell you about the time I was accidentally put in Special Ed classes in the first grade? Or what about the time I fell between the bleachers during a choral performance and decided to just stay under there for the rest of the show?)
3) I don’t read blogs
4) Because it’s just another thing to do besides actually writing a book

FOUR REASONS TERESA MEDEIROS DECIDED TO PARTICIPATE IN A BLOG
1) Connie Brockway threatened me
2) I love to play with fonts. It’s like having my very own coloring book
3) Because I’m the only one among us who regularly watches TV so I might actually have Something Important to discuss
4) Because when I told my husband about it, he said, “Oh, just another thing to do besides actually writing a book, eh?”

ELOISA ON BLOGGING AND COVERS
I think of blogging as an extension of our curious relationship to the world of publishing: we create the books that people want to read and then spend a huge amount of time negotiating the path between our computer and a bookstore. A blog (i.e., information sharing) could be a crucial instrument in the fight to succeed in this business. Or it could just be a place to share gossip. But I would prefer to see this as a place to put six best-selling minds to work on analyzing the book business.

So...on the information-sharing front, has anyone noticed that every book out there has a pair of shoes on the cover? I’m talking women’s fiction now, not romance. Romances seem to be going heavily into real estate. I’m assuming that since we write women’s fiction, art departments must want to put desirable objects on the cover. Does this mean that shoes are now the focus of women’s buying sprees? I myself seem to be putting all my money into good bras (LaPerla--there’s nothing better).

Anyone seen any terrific covers lately?

CHRISTINA ASKS, “WHO ARE WE AND WHY ARE WE WRITING?”
From Christina who thinks these important questions should be answered by someone who knows, but I’m going to take a crack at it anyway.

We’re six published writers of various genres - about a year ago we figured out how many books we had written between us and it was well over a hundred. We email everyday, amusing ourselves and each other. Or at least amusing ourselves. We share our woes and our triumphs. The best part about this group? When one of us surges ahead in publishing, the others are comfortable enough to whine, “But what about me? When do I get to win?” Occasionally if there’s too much triumph for one person, the emails will start coming in, “Who are you and why are you emailing me?” or even the succinct, un-subtle, “Bitch.” Sometimes the threat will come across email “I’m going to lapse into a sullen silence.” That never happens because nobody notices. The rest of us are too busy being entertaining. The truth is, if someone really wants to make everyone cranky, all she has to say is something like, “I’ve been bicyling and it really works! The weight is just melting away!” I don’t want to mention her initials (Teresa Medeiros) but considering some of us have an April 30 deadline and are doing nothing but sit in front of the computer (initials Christina Dodd), that was just mean.

How close are we? We talk about our periods. THAT’S the ultimate female bonding.

So we know how long WE’VE been here, but how long have YOU readers been here?  Did any of you discover us at the beginning and just HOW did you discover SQUAWK RADIO?  A timely twist of fate?  An unfortunate accident?  A savvy friend who recognized our erudite brilliance?  (And could somebody please look up erudite and tell us what it means.)

AND TUNE IN THIS AFTERNOON FOR ANOTHER TRIP BACK IN TIME AS LISA AND LIZ JOIN US IN OUR SQUAWK TIME MACHINE!!!  AND CHECK BACK AFTER 7 PM CENTRAL WHEN TODAY’S CONTEST WINNER WILL BE ANNOUNCED!

Oh, like at some point in your life, probably in kindergarten, you were singing the alphabet song and you didn’t wonder the same thing.

As kids, we all heard words we didn’t understand all the time, and usually we just took them in without arguing because, after all, the whole world was still a wonderful mystery. For instance, at Christmas:

When you were singing that Christmas carol and you wondered whether EGG-SHELL-ZES were a special kind of egg shells? And what they had to do with Christ’s birth?

And you knew the reindeer who hung around with Rudolf had clean white teeth because it said right in there in the song, “And all the reindeer loved him, as they shouted out with GLEEM.”

Then you got a baby brother and your mother sang that lullaby:
Rock-a-bye, baby
In the treetop
When the wind blows
The cradle will rock
When the ball breaks …
WHEN THE BALL BREAKS?!
Ouch. That’s going to hurt.

Do you remember listening as your teacher read you the book Snow White? Snow White had, “Skin as white as snow, and lips as red as blood, and her hair was as black as anybody’s …”

Wait. Let’s back that up. That’s, “Hair as black as EBONY.”

Ack! What about the time you were in first grade, and your mom was driving you to your advanced math-and-science elementary school, and you pointed at a beautiful blooming shrub covered with lavender flowers, and said, “Look! A bacteria!”

Bacteria. Wisteria. Close enough.

Not that I ever thought any of this stuff. And I most certainly never wanted to ride on a magnificent YAGT (a boat rich people own.)

What about you? What embarrassing stuff did you not think and not say? Tell me all about it so I can guffaw as I consume my SEE-SAME seed bagel.
Christina’s Website

Three years ago when we remodeled the family room we had all sorts of nifty little upgrades done to our house. Some of those upgrades were “have-to-haves” like a new furnace. Some were “want-to-haves” like new carpeting and floor to ceiling cherry-wood bookcases and others were “What-the-hell-since-we’re-spending-money-we-might-as-well-start- throwing it away!” The HD TV straddled the line between category two (wanna) and category three (what the hell) but the TiVo definitely was int he last category. I remember asking my DH about it and his response.

DH: “We have a VCR.”
ME: “But with TiVo, we can watch AND record AND we can fast-forward through commercials.”
DH: “That’s pathetic.”
ME: “You’re point?”

With such unassailable logic backing me, how could I lose? We got the TiVo. Fast forward four years. Guess who categorically, absolutely, and loudly refuses to watch any television program (except sports) in real time? That’s right. Now, the family Brockway would have been content had the technological world stopped evolving at that exact moment. But then, damn their eyes, PLANET EARTH debuted. PLANET EARTH, in case you don’t know, is the most stunning, mesmerising, exciting, sensual visual experience to ever occur on television. And it’s occurring on one of the independent channels. And it’s occurring in High Definition. Pause while Connie whimpers.

“Why, Connie? Why are you whimpering?”

Because our TiVo does not record in High Def. We cannot see each iridescent feather on a hummingbird’s wing or the bristles on a wart hog’s snout. Clearly we needed to. I mean the TV was DH TV for a reason. All we lacked was the means to record this visual feast that we might consume it at our leisure. TiVo have a High Def model! But then we discovered that TiVo’s HD DVD costs 900.00 and then an additional monthly fee on top of the regular high def cable or satellite fee. TiVo, in essence, was trying to screw us! Morally I oppose being screwed. Plus, I’m cheap.

Happily, we discovered that our cable company’s (ComCast) hooks up a HD DVD gratis to their clients who subscribe to their HD channels. Cool! We’re in! Out comes Comcast and fits us up with a DVD recorder...but it’s not a HD DVD, those are back-ordered 6-8 weeks. In the meantime, they have taken away my TiVo and left me with, in a word, a piece of sh**. Really. For example, tonight after a long hard day of editing SKINNY-DIPPING I flopped down on the couch anticipating 40 minutes of unadulterated bliss as I watched Jack Bauer torture his way to nobility only to discover the DVD had recorded SEVEN HOURS of crap I have never even heard of. Worse, it only recorded TEN MINUTES of 24. Argh!

I want my TiVo back. I feel like the dumb high school girl who dumps her boyfriend for the pretty quarterback (or in my case, warthog) only to learn the sad lesson that are more important things than pretty eyes, things like dependability, a “seek by actor” function, and a snap forward fifteen minute button.

But you know what the absolute worst part of this is? I still haven’t seen a single minute of PLANET EARTH in High Def in my own home. Comcast and PLANET EARTH promised to take me to the prom but I’ve only ended up under the bleachers with my skirts up around my chin.

So tell me, anyone else got a TiVo jones? Gone astray and wished you could go back? Anyone have a happily ever after TiVo out there? I’m feeling blue.

I don’t have enough books to fill up my bookshelves.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Poor Christina! Whatever will she do?”

Either that or, “I hope the obnoxious b***h gets the pox.”

But I don’t care, because I don’t have enough books to fill up my bookshelves!

Let’s start the tour with a full shot of the bookshelves. As you can see, they cover two walls in my office, and even extend over the top of the bathroom door. Coming soon — a library ladder so I can get to the top shelves!

On the wall with my desk, the bookshelves are wide because — Ta-da! — two sections push aside for storage. Inside, I’ve got bookshelves for my foreign editions and an office storeroom for papers, manuscripts, photos, etc. Someday I’ll even unpack the boxes and put stuff away. Really. I swear.

Finally, the pièce de résistance! Because the only place where we have a view of Mt. Baker is from those very high windows in my office, the top of the bookshelves/office storage is a nest. I’m going to get a comfortable bunch of cushions for up there, and railings are being made, and when everything’s ready, I will climb my library ladder, hop into my hiding place, and sleep. I mean, write. Work. Write.

This bookshelf, my dears, is the epitome of every dream I ever had as a child. Books, bookshelves, a place to hide my mess, and a place to hide myself where I can pretend to be Jo March. I’m so happy!

And now — I’m off to buy more books!
Christina’s Website

My desk top is dying, my notebook is dying, and never have two electronic deaths been so unlamented. Why? Because this time, this time, I am going to run with the cyber-wolves. This time, I am going to get me such a fast, such a secure, such a solid machine I will never have to replace it again! (Yeah, I said that four years ago, too. So?) The only question I have is where will I find my new Compu-Couer? Should I stick to the path I know best and replace these rotting hulks with a Vista-licious PC because as all my current software is made for Windows? Or will I fly in the face of fiscal responsibility and get me one of them new Mac Notebooks running OX Leopard?

I don’t know! I’m having a hard time deciding so a few times a week ( and twice on Saturdays) I haunt the aisles at CompUSA, fingering the Toshiba Satellite keyboards and playing with the plasma touch screens. I pour over hard drive configurations and study Computercentric magazines like they were the new testament. I whisper into microphones and test angle shots of my face on webcams but eventually I end up standing under the “COMING SOON” banner advertising Leopard and whimpering with impatience.

The only misgiving I have about getting a Mac is the fact that Mac people hate Bill Gates. Which is fine. PC people hate Bill Gates, too. Hate with impunity, I always say. But no Mac-ite hates Steve Jobs. They love him. They love him and they LOVE their Macs. Which has lead me to wonder why. Which has led me to talk to more and more of the Mac-amillions and the more I talk to Mac people, the more their enthusiasm unnerves me. They get a manic look their eye, like a proselytizer spying a potential convert. I want to buy a new computer, not to join a cult! When you first turn on the computer does Steve Jobs appear to you that night and make you his Apple-slave (and do they get to wear cute togas?) What do they really do at those “free” Apple workshops (and does it involve microchips?)

So, tell me, what do you own a PC or a Mac and why? And if you own a Mac, did you have a microchip implanted when you bought it and, if so, does it also control your appetite? (Okay, okay, I just thought it was worth asking)

I had a really rotten day yesterday.  It doesn’t really matter why; there were hiccups on the publishing front, hiccups as Director of Graduate Studies (sick students, miserable students, failing students), hiccups on the department front (anyone read any of those academic novels about English Departments?  It’s all true), hiccups at home (OK, just your normal run of mother-guilt).

Anyway, it was a really terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.  (And that’s the name of a terrific children’s book, if you missed it).

So I came home and cried.  My children gathered around.  That makes it sound as if there were twelve of them, but in fact the two of them vibrate at such a high frequency it feels that way.  My daughter was consoling.  “Oh, Mama,” she crooned, stroking my face and hair.  “Poor Mama.” My son did a male thing.  Who knew my little boy was turning into a man?  “What happened?” he asked over and over.  “What are you going to do about it?” My husband appeared.  I don’t want to put his comments into print because you’d think he was trying out as an extra on the Sopranos, but it was appreciated.

I cried and ate chocolate and read a romance (Jayne Ann Krenz’s latest-very good) and thought about how differently men and women handle really terrible days.  It wasn’t until this morning that I was able to rally and do what my son was essentially urging me to do—defend myself.  It wasn’t until this morning that I found myself agreeing with some of my husband’s more repeatable comments.  Yesterday I was just a sodden lump, eating chocolate and crying.

My son finally said:  “Why are you crying?” It seemed so obvious to me:  “Because I feel like it.” “I never feel like it,” he told me.  “When you made me read Bridge to Terabintha, I didn’t like that.”

The thing is...I like crying.  I don’t love it, but it makes me feel better.  Mind you, one of the joys of being adult is measuring the times when I don’t cry—in a meeting, in public, whenever.  But crying at home?  Priceless.

What about you all?  Do you cry?  Lots, a little, never?  Does it make you feel better or horrid (my best friend says she always feel like a loser when she’s driven to tears).  What about the men in your life?  How do they react to bad days?