Romance, Young Love, and Books

I'm thinking romance. The early stages that is. You know, the first loaded looks that hint at simmering feelings, the shy almost burning first touches when fingers meet fingers, and the heady, soaring emotions that wipe away fear. Young love.

Why am I thinking this? Well, it's not because I'm young, that's for sure. My hubby and I are celebrating our eighteenth anniversary tomorrow. See, so not young. Yikes. But I was young once. And I have a good memory.

And, I'm working on a romance scene in my WIP. It's challenging and fun. Struggling to find a way to express those first racing moments without sounding cliche and cheesy is frustrating. I delete more than I leave, and find myself turning to other books (and movies) for insight.

Here is a delicious example from Carol Lynch William's The Chosen One:

"But. Here is another secret. Another sin. Because I am not allowed to be with Joshua. I am not allowed to feel this way. Tingly when he looks at me. Weak when his hand is near mine. And the worst part--I couldn't help but wonder how it would be to kiss him.

And when we did kiss, it was all my fault.

Emily in the corner with her baby doll.

Me, in the Fellowship Hall with Joshua.

On the piano bench.

Smelling the soap he uses.

Watching his hands.

Hardly thinking of music.

...I glanced in his direction and saw him looking at me. Not at the piano keys.

"Put your hand like this," I told him. "You have to look here." I tapped the keyboard.

He let me move his fingers to the right position. So warm, those fingers.

"The C and E and G," I said.

But Joshua's hand didn't stay where I put it. Instead his fingers tangled up with mine. The whole side of his body leaned into me. His other arm slid around my waist.

"You can't play the piano holding my hand. Or leaning crooked like that, either," I said, my voice breathy. The words almost didn't come out of my mouth. But I thought, I could kiss you right now and go to hell and it would be worth it. Worth it.

...And then I kissed him. Just fell into him right in the middle of a sentence. Pressed my lips to his. So soft. Then he was kissing me back. And I didn't even know how to kiss, had never kissed anyone in my life but my family, and then only little pecks on the cheek.

It felt like Joshua sucked the breath from me, there on the piano bench, with all the thoughts of sin going through my head, but me not caring at all. Not at all.

"I better go," I said, when I finally pushed away from him. My hands trembled. My knees shook.

And he said, "Don't be scared, Kyra. I'm right here."

Isn't that scrumptious?

What is your favorite first love scene? Me? I'm off to create my own.

Today is really Tuesday and We have a book problem.

Today is Tuesday. I know, because this is my first post this week, and according to my Iron Clad Blogging Schedule that means it must be Tuesday, or possibly Monday, but certainly not Wednesday. I know your calendars might say otherwise, but don't listen to them. They are sneaky and devious tricksters that will try to deceive you. It is Tuesday. I'm sure of it.

Now on to Tuesday's post.

We have a book problem.

They're taking over the house, spilling from shelves, piling in corners. Stacked in heaps. We all love them, everyone of us. We can't stop buying them. Reading them. Smelling them. And, yes, books have a smell. A yummy ink and paper scent that promises fabulous adventures. Ahhh, how do you say no to lovely words wrapped in shiny covers?

Kid A and I cleaned out her bookshelves this week in preparation for her move to the basement. (It is almost finished. Woot. Woot.) In the vast stacks, I discovered some of my books. Here is a replica of our conversation:

Me: Hey! Those are mine!

Kid A: I don't think so.

Me: Yeah, they are. You can't have The Death Gate Cycle. Give them back.

Kid A, avoiding eye contact and acting guilty: Can't I just keep them in my bookcase?

Me: Are you kidding? It's The Death Gate Cycle. They're so mine! I need them by my bed to comfort me at night . . . and during the day. Besides, Tracy Hickman hugged me. His sweat is part of my DNA now.

Kid A, laughing: Well, that is true, but you have too many books in your room. I'm just trying to help you out.

Me, pointing at the piles of books on her floor: But this will help you have more room for these in your shelves--Hey! You can't have Inkheart. That's mine, too.

And so it continued until I left her room with a giant stack of books. It was like Christmas, but not for her. Don't feel bad for her either, she got to keep Goose Girl, and Shannon Hale rocks.

I think we need to establish a support group, or go to therapy. Something to help us control this addiction. Nothing radical like book removal therapy, or a forced book relocation. Even worse would be, gasp, shudder, self denial of books. I couldn't survive it.

I'm thinking more along the lines of an additional wing to house the books. We'll call it, The Official Rehab Wing. I'll sign myself up as soon as it opens. Does anyone want to join me?

So What's Your Super Power?

I can already hear the question marks flying. Questions surrounding my sanity. And no, I’m not crazy, but I do believe everyone has a super power. Not like flying, or zapping an arch enemy with eye lasers or anything cool like that. I’m talking about real super powers. The kind we all come with. The kind we keep hidden under our Clark Kent selves that we don’t like to brag about and seldom reveal without blushing. My hubby’s is, duh duh da duh—(that was fan fair in case you didn’t catch it) Super Dish Washing Man. He also does laundry and lets me sleep in. If you don’t think that’s a super power, you’re wrong. It is. An awesome one!

After church on Sunday I started a book, The Queen of Attolia, by Megan Whalen Turner, recommended by my friend Nikki. As I read, my family evaporated. Or I did, I’m not sure which, but I was in the land of Attolia, and I stayed there all day. I didn’t cook. I didn’t get kids ready for bed. I didn’t do ANYTHING but read. It was fabulous. I read all night as I moved on to The King of Attolia, book three in the series. (Book one, The Thief, was also great.) I made myself go to bed at 4:30 in the morning even though I wasn’t done with the book.

Guess what I did on Monday? Yup, you got it. I read. Guess what my hubby did? Yup you got it. He ripped his shirt off in the nearest phone booth and changed into Super Dishwashing Man. (He looks good in spandex. Of course nothing, and I do mean nothing, is sexier than a man doing dishes!)

Not only were my dishes done, my kids fed, bathed, played with, cleaned up after, house cleaned, and laundry done. (I told you he was good!) But he ordered me to sit down and write so I could meet my goal. Talk about super powers!

This made me think about myself. What is my super power? Hmmm. I came up with a few possibilities but finally settled on, duh duh da duh—The Procrastinator! Mwahahahaha! Hey, not all super powers are good ones. With this power I am able to stall large projects in a single bound, forget to feed my kids while reading books, put off chores, and even miss my day helping the Kindergarten teacher.

How did I end up as the villain? Poor Super Dish Washing Man.

And what about our kids? What strange mix of powers did they end up with coming from such diverse parents?

Child A: Go-To Girl. Able to help anyone while wearing a cheerful smile. (Please note that even though her super power clearly puts her on the hero, not villain side, she is trying to kill me by driving the car.)

Child B: Bottomless Pit Boy. Consumes more in one sitting than a full grown man!

Child C: The Gum Locator. Sounds like a strange ability, but hey, he must be part blood hound. He can track down a piece of gum hidden in the back of a closet or bottom of a purse faster than you can say chew.

Child D: The Pink Princess. This power is based on the ability to wear more pink than should be humanly possible while dancing like a princess. Not a very useful power, but a cute one.

So, what is your super power? If you’re reading this take a minute to post a comment on your secret, or not so secret, ability. And no lurking. Lurking is not a super power, but commenting is!