Hey everyone!  For the next three days I’ll be over at the DIK Ladies blog, hanging out on the island.  Thursday I did a Q&A, talking about everything from the hero I’d most like to be, to the author everyone loves but I don’t get, to my favorite sex song, he, he.  Today we discuss the question: Does the car make the man?  (I’ve got pictures of some oh-so-fine cars and a special preview of the vehicle the hero in my upcoming book drives.  It’s yummy, that’s all I’ll say.)  On Saturday, I’ll tell you why I love a good comeuppance and about some women who have influenced my writing.  

Oh– we’re doing a giveaway both Friday and Saturday, so be sure to check that out.  And I’ll be lounging around on the island, drinking my tropical cocktails and happy to answer any questions you have about my books, me, or just life in general.  So, if you get a chance, drop on by!

I’m at the half-way point of the book I’m currently reading, The Help by Kathryn Stockett, and I’m really enjoying it. Finding it hard to put the book down.  But about 100 pages ago, I started getting that pit in my stomach, that anxious thought in my mind: “This all might not turn out so well…”

The book, in a nutshell, takes place in Jackson, Mississippi during the civil rights movement of the 1960’s and is about two African-American nanny/housekeepers who team up with a white female writer to tell their stories about what it’s like to work in white households.  The idea that it’s okay for black housekeepers to raise the children of white families, but aren’t allowed to use the same bathroom as them.   The book is divided between three different points of view– the two African-American housekeepers and the white woman interviewing them.  All three characters are aware that there is incredible danger in meeting together.  And because of the danger that is so prevalent, I find it hard to put the book down, because I want to know what’s going to happen.  I want to know that the characters are going to be okay.  And then it hit me:

Maybe they won’t be.

I read a beautiful post awhile ago by Jane at Dear Author, about the journey a reader goes on when picking up a book, and the trust that goes into the reader/author relationship.   For me, The Help is a great example of that.  I have a feeling the ending of this book is not going to be all sunshine and roses, but I’m willing to go with the author wherever she wants to lead, because she’s had me hooked from the beginning.

I had a similar, and even stronger, reaction when I read A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.  Wow, did that book just tear me up.  Never before has my book club been so universally moved by a book, I don’t think. While reading it, and afterward, I was depressed, furious, bruised, battered… but also incredibly touched and just so amazingly appreciative of my life.  There were scenes in it that wrenched my heart in a way that I haven’t forgotten, and likely will never forget.  But as difficult as those scenes might be, there is a beauty in being touched by a book that way.

Loving Frank by Nancy Horan is another example.  This book sure gets the award for taking me in a direction I didn’t expect.  I trusted the author, even though she pulled the rug out from under me and hit me with an ending I was completely unprepared for.  The climax of this book haunted me for some time… but that, in itself, says something about  the story and the writing.

I did an interview a few weeks ago, where I talked about the appeal of romantic fiction, and how there is a comfort in the guarantee of a happy/optimistic ending.  Now, I have read romance novels that dealt with some very serious topics (Fragile by Shiloh Walker and Blue-Eyed Devil by Lisa Kleypas immediately come to mind), but I did have, at least, a certain peace while reading those books that somehow, some way, everything was going to work out in the end.  And there is incredible value in providing that comfort.  Sure, there are times when I want to be shocked and awed and touched, but then there are times when I want to be awed and touched and uplifted— and with no genre other than romance, in my experience, have I been able to count on this.

I think, to follow Jane’s analogy, there are times when I want to slip my hand into an author’s and have her or him say, “I make no promises.  But you’ll never forget this journey.”  And then there are times when I want the author to smile and say with a wink, “Trust me.”

When I began my writing career– writing screenplays– I think I struggled with this.  My scripts crossed the spectrum–I wrote a couple of romantic comedies, but then I also wrote some dark, suspenseful thrillers.  At one point in my career, my film agent suggested that I choose a tone so that people knew what to expect when reading one of my scripts.  I, naively, was resistant to this at first, thinking it shouldn’t matter as long as the story was a good one.  But now, having broadened my own reading, I understand better:  readers want to have some idea of what they’re diving into before committing to a 120 page screenplay or 300+ page novel.

Perhaps I’m focused on this right now for personal reasons.  Just a few weeks ago, my literary agent, in praising the manuscript for my next book, described it as a “romantic suspense.”  Of course I was pleased by her reaction, but a part of me was surprised:  Wait– I wrote a romantic suspense? I, on the other hand, would describe it as a romantic comedy with a suspense subplot.

Hmm… so what else can I tell you about book 3?  Yes, true, it has more thrills (and is longer and steamier) than my first two, but— Oh, wait.

I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.

[wink]

But enough rambling from me… I’d love to know what you expect, as a reader.  Do your expectations differ depending on the genre?  What will make you stick with a story that goes in a direction you didn’t anticipate?

**Edited to add:  I finished the book and was moved by how touching and–yes–uplifting the ending is.  Sure, there were some tears over a particularly moving scene at the end, but not the bad kind of tears.  I’d highly recommend this book.  The three women protagonists that are the core of this story are all great characters you’ll get behind and cheer for.

So I was at my local library the other day, and I noticed that while they do have a romance section, they don’t have either of my books in stock. Many other Chicago Public Library branches do carry both of them, however.  Thinking I would be a nice person, do my part to support my local library, etc., etc., I returned the next day to donate a copy of each of my books.  The young female receptionist took the books, noted that they were both already in the Chicago Public Library system, and said they would be happy to take them.  She mentioned that I should call back later in the afternoon to make sure the books were processed by her manager.

Later that afternoon, I thus called and spoke to the manager, Dick.  (Note: as the story goes on, you may begin to suspect that I made up this name, but I swear, it’s really Dick.)  My conversation with Dick went something like this:

Me:  Hi, Dick.  My name is Julie James– I’m a local author and I dropped off my two books earlier this afternoon to add to your branch’s collection.  I just wanted to make sure you received those books okay?

Dick:  Umm…

Silence.

Me:  So… I’m guessing from that reaction that you have no clue what I’m talking about?  I dropped off the books with a nice red-headed woman, I didn’t catch her name.

Dick:  I haven’t seen ’em, but there’s one place they might be.  Do you want me to check?

Gee.  As reassuring as it is to know they “might” be somewhere…

Me:  If you wouldn’t mind checking, that would be great.

[Dick sighs, then there is a long pause.]

[Dick picks up phone, call resumes.]

Dick:  Okay, so I got your books here.  Yeah… I’m going to have to look into these.  I need to see if they’re appropriate for our collection.

[Note: the other party to this phone call would describe Dick’s tone at this point as “snotty,” but given how said other party will endeavor to tell this story in an objective fashion, said other party will let the dialogue speak for itself.]

Me: I saw that several other branches of the Chicago Public Library carry them– I just thought I’d donate the copies since you’re my local branch.

Dick:  I still gotta check to see if they’re appropriate.

Me:  Well, they’re contemporary romances.  You have a romance section, right?

Dick:  Yeah, but I gotta make sure they’re an appropriate fit for our readers.  You know, we can’t just take any books here that people want to drop off.  Every library manager should be doing this, and if they’re not, well, they should be.

Me:  Oh–what kind of information are you looking for?  Maybe I can help you.

Dick:  Well, I’m going to check the internet, see if I can find any reviews on your books.  If you’ve had any.

Me:  Actually, I think you’ll find that both of the books have been well-received.  In fact, the Sun-Times did great reviews for both of them [I throw this in thinking a local connection might help] and just a couple weeks ago Booklist gave Practice Makes Perfect a starred review–

Dick: [cutting me off]  Good for you.

[Note: the other party to this phone call would most definitely describe Dick’s tone at this point as “sarcastic.”   And at this point, it’s pretty safe to say that said other party’s tone is pretty damn sarcastic too.]

Me:  You know, I’m confused here.  For some reason, I was under the impression that I was trying to do something nice by donating books to the library.

Dick:  Sure, and we’re happy to have them.  Once I determine that they’re appropriate.

Me:  I’ll tell you what, Dick– you check your sources and decide whether you think my books are “appropriate” for your library.  And if you decide they’re not, you call me and I’ll come over and take them back.  How does that sound?

****

Okay– so what’s really going on here?

If I was a betting woman, I’d wager that Dick saw a book called Just the Sexiest Man Alive and got all crotchety about what might be in it.  I’m also guessing that Dick isn’t necessarily a fan of romance.  But maybe I’m wrong– maybe he’s really that thorough about checking into every book that comes into his library.  But come on, am I really supposed to believe he checks the reviews for every new acquisition?  Something isn’t right…

P.S.  I haven’t heard from Dick since.  My plan is to call this afternoon to confirm whether he did, indeed, find the books acceptable.  I will admit:  there’s a small part of me that’s kind of hoping he’ll tell me that he doesn’t think my books are appropriate for his library.  Now that I write full-time instead of practicing law, my work interactions are generally all very pleasant and I’m just itching for a good fight.

On another note, to focus next on people who are so much more fun (and welcoming) about books… the other week my book club had its monthly meeting and–ha– we read Practice Makes Perfect.  Surprisingly, no one said they disliked the book.  😉  It was a ton of fun for me to hear the reactions and thoughts of people who know me so well.  We had a lively discussion about the gender issues touched on in the book (many of which were articulated so well by Jessica in her review of PMP at Racy Romance Reviews); our personal experiences working in male-dominated professions; whether J.D. was or was not an asshole at the beginning of the book; and the steamier sex scenes on the horizon for Book 3.  I asked the waiter to take a picture of the group:

The Book Club girls (sans Melissa)
(I’m second from the left.)

Next up, we’re reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett, which I’ll start just as soon as I finish Angels’ Blood by Nalini Singh.  AB is the first paranormal I’ve read, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  All I can say is… wow.  I’m definitely going to have to check out more of Nalini Singh’s books.