even though i have a book to write and kids to raise and laundry to do i am sitting here at my desk googling the pretty that is chris hemsworth. (it’s not because i have a crippling case of writer’s block.)
why? because instead of taking care of any of those things i’m casting the movie version of inbetween and i’ve decided he should play alex hilldale.
which brings up the question of who should play the other characters. for example, who is going to play tab bennett, our plucky heroine? not kristen stewart. she bites her lips too much. megan fox? she’s beautiful but in a way i find extremely frightening. maybe phoebe tonkin who plays faye on the cw’s the secret circle.
[note to self: why do you know that?]
i have no idea who might play robbin turnbough but the part of george bennett will be played by jason dohring – due entirely to my abiding love for logan echols.
on may 1, 2012 inbetween will be available for purchase on amazon, b&n, etc. in the meantime, you can read the first chapter just by clicking here.
side note to aged relatives, pre-teens, and delicate flowers: inbetween contains some naughty bits. let’s agree now that we’re never going to discuss them.
When I was 11 my best friend gave me a diary for my birthday. It was a pretty pink book, the kind with the little lock and key and gold deckle edged pages.
I hated it.
My mother had warned me about the inherent danger of recording your feelings the summer before when I’d innocently asked for, and been denied, a similar volume. If you write down your feelings, she warned, there’s proof and, worse yet, the risk of exposure. As a kid with a massive crush on Johnny Depp, circa 21 Jump Street, this was the worst thing I could imagine. What if someone found my diary, picked the flimsy lock, and read all about my secret, tender feelings for him? I would die of embarrassment.
Now, of course, I want people to read my work. I hide my secrets in plain sight on the pages I write. I put my thoughts in my character’s mouths and let them say the things I don’t. It’s liberating and cleansing and the best kind of letting go.
That said, I have never kept a diary.
A few months ago a pretty well known agent read and liked my book. She called the story original, praised my writing, and then just when I thought she was going to represent me, passed on the project.
Want to know why she decided to pass? She felt that the hero didn’t act rationally. He did things that didn’t make sense, said things he shouldn’t have, and seemed incapable of thinking through the consequences of his actions.
Um…that pretty much describes my entire romantic life.
You know how all this romance novel stuff got started? I read the Sookie Stackhouse Mysteries (which, by the way, are in no way mysterious) and thought “I can do that.” It seemed so easy, like a math problem even I could solve. In my head, it went like this:
1 beautiful (but unassuming) woman
+ 2 gorgeous (and vastly different) men who want her
+ grope, grind, squeeze
= instant bestseller
Easy, right? Nope. Wrong. It turns out love is hard. It’s hard to be in, hard to hold on to, and really hard to write about.
Would somebody please tell Charlaine Harris that I’m sorry for doubting her.