RIP Bertrice Small & Book Review Thursday

A little late for book review Thursday. Nonetheless:

A literary agent I follow broke the news that romance writers Bertrice Small died earlier today.

The two Bertrice Small novels I own are Phillipa and Rosamund. Both are historical fiction about heiresses that came in contact with Henry VIII while he was married to Catherine of Aragon. If you’re someone who must read everything about Henry and Catherine, no matter what, pick these up and enjoy.

When it comes to sex, Small made me feel like a prude – a very dirty prude. And what was worse was how unbelievable the sex was.

Not unbelievable as in great – just unbelievable.

Does anyone’s penis really work like that? And does any woman really like that? Really?  Her terminology didn’t just make me blush – it made me laugh. 

Don’t judge. Don’t judge. Shame on me for judging (and mentally getting out the measuring tape in my own bedroom). Nope. No way. Even thinking like that makes me a dirty, dirty girl. 

But what Small did was create historical romances that allowed people to fantasize about sex while reading under the guise of reading about the time period of Henry and Catherine. It was not unlike watching Reign on the CW (which is off until March 12 -- grrr). Maybe she gave someone (besides other romance authors) some good ideas. Maybe her push of the envelope gave someone else the freedom to reclaim sex. 

Small has 68 books on Amazon with publishing dates from not happened yet back to the mid-1980s. That puts her first book out just a few years after Nora Roberts started publishing. Both were/are prolific female romance writers, though IMHO, Small could have learned a lot more from Roberts.  

But I read both. I took different things from both. Because of Small, I did not venture into other bodice rippers and other novels that were listed the genre of romance over another genre. Perhaps that was “small” of me. 

Perhaps one day, I’ll discover whether or not it was.

A Failure of Epic Proportions

So, suffice to say I’ve been quiet the last two weeks. Really, since my birthday. But with winter break and NYE and going on vacation to Florida – then returning to 20 degree temps and getting sick – well, it was understandable that it would take me a little longer to get back into the rhythm of things.

And then I got a job. And at that job, I lasted 6 days.

What was the job?

I was working at the warehouse of my very favorite online used bookstore, which happens to be a stone’s throw from my house. The bosses were wonderful. The co-workers lacked the negative attitudes you see in a lot of office and temp positions. People went out of their way to be nice to me and help me figure out the ropes – maybe because they could see me struggling so much.

So what was the problem?

Well, maybe I never truly got over my illness from late December.

There were precarious stacks of books that fell as I was trying to reach JUST the ONE.

Splinters and broken fingernails are not a laughing matter to me.

There was a certain door that needed a new latch, because only door whisperers could open it, but that I needed to open several times a day.

There’s the nerdy girl who is more than aware that having a round shape is not the same as being in good shape, and moving an extra hundred plus pounds from one side of the warehouse to the other wore on me.

And there’s the night owl who wants to write and sell books for a living who was having a dickens of a time getting up and to work on time (I would go to bed early/on time, but kept waking up throughout the night thinking I needed to get up for work). And when I got home, I was dead. My body was dead. My brain was dead. Some of my comments to people misused their/there/they’re, for grammar’s sake! Anything I added to Works In Progress would be suspect.

There’s a part of me that still recoils from the last warehouse job I had, and just entering a warehouse is kind of hive-inspiring (I didn’t tell them that when they hired me, because BOOKS).

There was my husband trying to help out and play Mr. Mom when I came home exhausted – and the fact that my 40 hour week earned less than one of his 10 hour days.

So there were a lot of less-than-significant things. But Wednesday is hump day. Hump day is for camels. This camel’s back was broken. Time to move on.

"O My Camel -- You Did What?" -- Morguefile Photo

It’s a tough thing to acknowledge that you have a comfort zone. It’s equally tough to know when you’re reaching outside of it – and when you’re plunging into something altogether different from what you were expecting. But it’s good for me – my hubris was getting a bit out of whack, for example – to try new things, to see what I could learn, and to grow. Sometimes, I even need to admit defeat. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying other new experiences. Who could succeed without at least a few epic failures? And who likes those people, anyway? I’d rather celebrate my bumps and bruises.

So as I lick my wounds over this “failure of epic proportions,” and get over the nastiness of whatever this bug is (because seriously – it needs to GO), I will be on the lookout for the next adventure or disaster. Whichever I find, I’ll be more than happy to share it with you.

Cheap Book LOVE this week!

I love cheap books. And when I go to the "other" local library in town, I have to check out their 75% off section, since most of their books are only a buck or two to start with.  Here were my finds this week:

Silver Door(II) and Ruby Key(I) by Holly Lisle

Holly Lisle is something of a mentor of mine. She teaches a class How to Think Sideways that I have used many many many of the free parts of. She celebrated her birthday this week, and is doing all sorts of cool stuff. She revealed that it took six years to get her first acceptance letter. That is both comforting and extremely frustrating. I have been writing much longer than I've not been writing. But I've only been "published" -- and not traditionally -- for a few years. And I still don't know, especially being self-published -- how much harder I need to work or how much more patient I need to be to make things go the way I want them to. But Holly was one of the first traditionally published authors who taught me about the problems of big trad publishers and the importance she felt in making the switch to being self-pubbed. It IS all a big gamble, and the not-knowing part is very tough.

Love me some Jennifer Weiner chic-lit. And the first one mentions a heftier girl having to get comfortable with her own skin. Gotta love those feel-good vibes, and Weiner's always good to give them to readers.

My friend recommended Patricia Cornwell to me because I love Nora Roberts, Catherine Coulter, Mary Higgins Clark, and James Patterson. I still haven't ventured past front covers and first pages (so many books, so little time), but the best thing about these books is if I don't care for them, I have a gift for my friend! Win-win!!

And for the men in my life. Dear Hubby is working on the Patrick O'Brian collection, so to pick up a book that still retails for $11.95 for 75% off $2? Priceless. My brother reads Pendragon, and I think my son will have an interest at some point. These books retail for $8.99 and I picked it up for $.25.

The bad thing about picking up books this cheap is that the author does not profit directly from this sale. But the library does -- and many of these are either donated by previous owners or library discards. Poor readers and readers on a budget benefit. And blog readers do, when they hear about great books because a giddy author, blogger, and person like me is excited to share. If they check out the recommendations, they discover the writers, and then everyone wins. Book love -- it's important stuff!!


*Images are from the actual books taken with my camera phone. Cover images are property of their respective authors, illustrators, and publishers.