Maybe Just a Little Bit More

I check the Entertainment Weekly online site pretty much daily because I'm trashy like that (but I don't read tabloids or People, honest). And this article caught my attention because...okay, because I'm kind of guilty for thinking it.

I admit to wishing that the Harry Potter series - Books 5-7 only - were just a tad bit more sexy.

I'm not talking about graphic, lurid details. Heck, I don't really like erotica all that much and I tend to skim long sex scenes in other romance novels because they can get kind of boring.

But I'm talking about more...romance? More focus on that buzz you get when you fall in love and discover the feelings are returned and things move forward into that very first kiss and it becomes not enough so things start to progress even farther...That feeling, so unique and perfect and elusive, is the one I'm always searching for when I read romance novels, or any book for that matter. It's my particular brand of crack, and I'm hooked on it completely. I'm always hunting a fix. Even in innocent fantasy books aimed at kids.

(Spoiler warning - spoilers after the jump)


One of my favorite scenes in the entire 7 book series is the one in which Harry, without stopping to think, marches up to Ginny Weasley and just smacks one on her. In fact, HP and The Half Blood Prince might be my favorite title in the series because I love the romance aspect of the book. Harry's awakening knowledge that he has other-than-brotherly feelings for Ginny, presented as a monster that lives inside his chest and alternates between growling with jealously over Dean and Ginny's relationship and purring when thinking about a Ginny/Harry pairing.

And while I fully appreciate that J.K. Rowling wrote the HP series for children to read, and that the focus is good versus evil and growing from child to adult, and romance between the characters resides not just in the back seat but in the back of the bus, I have to admit to wishing that this weren't so. I know that these books simply couldn't be written any other way and still appeal to younger kids the way they do (or be considered appropriate for them by their parents). But the grown up in me wishes they were a tad bit more sexy.

That Harry's feelings for Ginny were demonstrated to be more than just a burning desire to hold her hand or a warm cozy feeling when he smells her flowery scent. I'm willing to bet that 99.99999% of all heterosexual teenage boys are burning to do a whole lot more than hold hands and that their noses aren't the only body part that is strongly affected when they catch a whiff of their crush's perfume or shampoo. That monster in Harry's chest? In reality might be more accurately placed a few states southward in his pants region.

J.K. does give a tiny hint of a stab at showing us that Harry might be having some impure thoughts about Ginny.

"There isn't anyone I want to invite," mumbled Harry, who was still trying not to think about Ginny any more than he could help, despite the fact that she kept cropping up in his dreams in ways that made him devoutly thankful that Ron could not perform Legilimency.

But the closest we ever get to a suggestion that Harry and Ginny might have any sort of physical relationship is in a single sentence, is very vague, and could, in fact, be talking about them pouring over the latest issue of Mad Magazine for all the descriptive it contains:

On one such evening, when Ginny had retired to the library, and Harry was sitting beside the window in the common room, supposedly finishing his Herbology homework but in reality reliving a particularly happy hour he had spent down by the lake with Ginny at lunchtime...

For the adult me, this is the romance novel equivalent to shutting the bedroom door. I've invested time and emotion into these characters, and I've thrilled along side of them as they've found love with each other. But now I've been cut off, disallowed from seeing them in love. So not fair.

Oddly enough, this same lack of detail in Ron and Hermione's relationship doesn't bother me. Like Harry and Ginny, we get not much more than a single, spontaneous kiss between Ron and Hermione and a suggestion that maybe they'd been holding hands while sleeping side by side (in separate sleeping bags, of course). You would think given the full 7-book lead up to this particular relationship, the feelings of being cheated by any lack of expressed affection between them would be a huge let down. But it's not. Not in the least.

I chalk up my not caring so much about Ron and Hermione to the fact that my identification as a reader belongs with Harry as the third-person point of view focus of the story. Through all of these books, I've felt Harry's emotions, I've heard Harry's thoughts and watched the world move through Harry's eyes. It's his relationships that I'm most heavily invested in - I'm most disappointed to all of the sudden be cut off from living vicariously through him. Indeed, I've viewed Ron and Hermione's relationship through Harry, and as Harry, I wouldn't really want to watch my two best friends in a heavy makeout session. I'm just pleased to know that they finally realized that they are meant for each other and will now be happily together. No PDAs necessary, thank you very much.

Too, I think the Ron/Hermione pairing was, although a long time coming, inevitable. I was never a Harry/Hermione delusionist shipper. From Book 3, I've always known that Ron and Hermione had feelings for each other even though they both fought valiantly against them. The entire series was a giant display of UST, a slow dance between these two that moved forward so glacially that anything more than a kiss at the end would have thrown the pace out of whack. Their relationship had the feeling of an old time movie when, to quote the magnificent Joss Whedon's lyrics from Buffy's perfect episode "Once More With Feeling", "The curtains close on a kiss, God knows, we can tell the end is near". The main characters flirt and fight their way through two hours of screen time to finally end with a passionate kiss right before the end credits roll. That works for Ron and Hermione. Their happily ever after starts with that kiss, and there's no more story left.

Not so with Harry. Maybe because when he finally acts on his feelings for Ginny, we know there is still an entire book to go. If their kiss doesn't signal the beginning of their HEA, then we need either one of two things to happen - a) more interaction between them to demonstrate the struggles and conflict in their relationship until they reach their HEA or b) them to move on and away from each other, their relationship obviously not the Real Thing.

J.K. made option B work perfectly with Harry and Cho Chang. Harry thought he loved Cho. They experienced some angst getting together. Finally, they kissed. Beginning of their HEA? No. Because Cho wasn't Harry's One True Love. They broke up, Cho receded to the background, and Harry realized that his feelings for her had disappeared. That relationship wasn't the Real Thing. Any disappointment that Harry and Cho only shared one kiss? Not one single drop.

Option A isn't actually an option. Because of what Harry's story is - a story about his triumph over evil and his successful transition into adulthood - the conflicts don't come anywhere close to living in his relationship with Ginny. Other than his fear that his feelings for Ginny could lead to Voldemort using her as bait and thus his breaking up with her to keep her safe(r) - an action that Ginny accepts if not willingly at least only slightly begrudgingly - Harry and Ginny have no conflicts. Voldemort wanting to kill Harry notwithstanding, there is no reason Harry and Ginny can't be together. An entire book of manufactured conflict between Ginny and Harry is beyond stupid. It's a different story completely.

It is true. Harry's story is not a romance, and therefore any focus on his relationship with Ginny is not necessary. It's the dollop of whipped cream on top of the icing on top of the cake. As a series aimed at children, this is only right. Problem comes from the fact that non-children have embraced the series so completely. We got teased, and now we're suffering a slight case of blue balls. Because some of us adults prefer not a dollop of whipped cream with our cake and icing, but a glass of really good wine. Something with a bit of kick in it.

I'm very excited to see the movie and how director David Yates handles the Harry/Ginny romance. I've heard the movie "sexes it up" a bit, but I take this with a giant pile of salt and don't expect much. If they deviate too far from the book, they will be accused of exploiting the material and risk losing hardcore fans. Too, I think the HP movie makers actually care about quality, and they aren't going to risk the integrity of their franchise just to beef up the teen girls demographic. I'm guessing they're hoping that Dan Radcliffe and Rupert Grint provide enough eye candy for that particular crowd, clothing removal not necessary.

Even so, I can see how and why this sexing-up could happen. After the staggering success of Twilight, both books and movie, TPTB in Entertainment Land are finally getting a clue that teen girls (and their moms) are a huge, money-wielding market. And teen girls (and their moms) like to swoon now and then. You want to bring them back again and again? Provide some swoon-worthy moments, à la Robert Pattinson/Kristen Stewart. If that means letting Harry and Ginny get a little action above and beyond what happens in the book, who's to complain?

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Where Did I Put That Thing?!

For Christmas, I got as a lovely gift, a Sony PRS-505 E-Reader. It's red and slim and very, very cool. I did have to hunt down an affordable recharging adapter because it only comes with the chord to attach it to the USB port on my computer, which is not adequate for recharging efficiently. But all in all, I'm very pleased with it.

I love that I can carry around many books for my reading pleasure all in an item small enough to slip into my purse. I love the instant gratification of being able to get new releases pretty much the second they come out via the Sony e-store. Too, you can generally get a hardcover release for at least 30% off the cover price and usually more. It's a great way to try out new writers because there are often deals to be found, and I just discovered that buying "bundles" can be a very economical way to pick up several titles in a series for much cheaper than buying the individual books would ever be. That is, assuming you could even find them given that they are older.

I admit I've had some trouble getting used to thinking about my e-reader when it comes to reaching for something to read. I'm surrounded by books, and the smooth, burgundy cover of the reader is not very flashy. It's hard to remember that inside that little metal bit of machinery are all the same words that appear on the hundreds of paper pages of the hundreds of books lining my shelves. You have to adjust to a new mind set when becoming an e-reader person - bigger and heftier doesn't mean better.

In fact, my husband, who gave me the gift, often accuses me of ignoring it. "Do you ever use that thing?" he's asked on more than one occasion. And while I have read three full titles on it, it is true that I still do the bulk of my reading the old fashioned way. Still, it's nice to have the option, and over the course of time, I do think the reader will become indispensable. In fact, I am positive that this will be the case.

Know I how I know this? Because I can't find the damn thing!

I'm actually afraid it's been stolen, although I don't know how this could have happened. I remember charging it and slipping into my purse because I was going someplace and knew I might need something to read. However, I don't remember ever taking it out of my purse - to read or to put someplace else. And now I cannot find it any where. Not in my purse. Not on any shelf or table or normal spot we tuck random items floating about the house. It's just flat out missing.

Except, I can't imagine how and/or why somebody would risk dipping their hands into my purse to snatch my e-reader without taking my wallet or the small leather pouch where I stash all of my cash. It makes no sense that the e-reader would have been taken but nothing else.

So I keep thinking it simply has to be somewhere. I've offered the kids $5 to whomever finds it, but so far I've had no takers. And I'm starting to get sick about this. The thing cost $350! That's a lot of money to just "lose". I can't imagine shelling out the same amount to replace it, but I now have a whole bunch of e-books that can't be read without the e-reader. Yes - I could use my laptop, but I've never read books on it. Talk about the epitome of inconvenient. Actually, I'd have to use my daughter's PC to read e-books because I have a MacBook and the Sony store library software is not Mac compatible yet. Oddly, this whole situation came about after I gleefully purchased a Linda Howard bundle and went hunting for the reader to dump all of my new titles onto. Couldn't find it. So now I can't read any of those cool books that prompted this whole problem.

Anyway, this is a huge frustration and goes to prove that you never miss something so much as when it's gone.

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Odd Bits

So, I made this promise to myself that I would finish one of my works in progress by my birthday, which is next month. I made this promise back in February during a particularly feverish bout of writing, when the stuff was just coming out in gobs. It seemed a very doable goal.

And it is still possible. If I don't focus on anything else for the next month, I could do it. I don't have any trips planned. School is out next week, so although the kids will be underfoot, I won't have any volunteer commitments. Other than the occasional baseball game and carpooling gig, my calendar is wide open. I could get up in the morning, handle a few chores and then park my butt in the chair until bedtime, with only a break or two to cook meals.

In other words, no excuses.

**

One of my characters grew up in Manchester, England. I've been struggling to get his voice just right - enough use of slang and difference in speech patterns to capture his accent without going overboard. To this end, I've been listening to daily broadcasts of a local Manchester news channel. Funny how I now have a good handle on the goings-on in that area. It's become kind of like the town next door. I don't know how much it's helped my efforts to make his speech realistic, though.

What I wish is that I could get live streams of radio broadcasts from the UK. Now that they have laws against streaming broadcasts outside of a particular country, you can't tap into local radio stations the way you used to be able to do.

**

One goal I do have for the summer is to make a serious dent in my TBR pile, which has grown embarrassing. I could conceivable spend the entire summer sitting on my deck with a book in my hand. And personally, this is my idea of a perfect summer vacation.

**

I'm starting to get really excited about the upcoming release of Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince on July 15th. This summer, we've gotten into the habit of waiting until the Sunday after a Thursday/Friday release day to go see the big blockbusters. By Sunday evening, the must-see-it-now crowds have gotten their fix, teens don't tend to go to the movies on Sunday evenings, and we don't have to stand in lines or struggle to find seats. But I don't know if I can wait the four extra days to see HPatHBP.

I checked the audio book out of the library for a recent car trip I took with my daughter. She hasn't read the book yet, so I figured this was the way to get her to experience the literary version before the movie version. Unfortunately, the unabridged audio book is 17 CDs long (that's 18 hours). Our car trip was all of 4 hours, round trip. We have another trip coming up that's longer, so maybe I can just renew the audio book an extra few weeks. Meanwhile, I'm listening to it in 5 and 10 minute chunks as I tool around town. At this rate, we'll be done by September.

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You Don't Mess With the Romance Posse

This morning, I was sitting at my kitchen table, enjoying my McCafé beverage as I trolled through my internet stops, listening to the local morning show that I've been tuning into for pretty much forever, when the DJs said something that caught my attention full stop.

It seems that Eric and Kathy (of WTMX out of Chicago) have determined it would be a fun lark to have their morning show producer, Swany, read a romance novel and report back his findings. Apparently this bit resulted from a prior discussion on how the romance genre business has been booming of late - sales up some 7%, which is nothing to sneeze at given the current economic crisis.

I didn't catch, exactly, how they went about choosing which book Swany was to read - I sort of got the impression they solicited suggestions from listeners - but Swany is all set to dive into that well-known, highly regarded icon of romantic fiction, "Palaces of Desire." Eric was enthusiastic over the prospect that the cover might feature a little Fabio action. Naturally. What's a trashy novel without a little Fabio man-titty?

What's that you say? You've never heard of this particular book? Well, let me enlighten you. It was written by Karen Alexander and released in January of 1978 by Ballentine Books. And after a good half-hour of Googling, I can assure you that you will find absolutely no more information than I've just shared other than where you might find a used copy at a bargain price.

But, really, what more do you need to know? Even if "Palaces of Desire" is a work of literary wonder on par with Jane Austin's backlist (which I have my doubts given the zero buzz about PoD, anywhere, bespeaking of its longevity as far as quality), the title alone does all but take out a full-page ad in the Chicago Tribune as far as touting romance novels as not much more than Porn for Women. Too, given the publication date of pre-1980, we're probably looking at at least a certain level of bodice ripping and alpha-maleness, not a little bit of purple prose, and maybe a virginal widow if we're oh-so-lucky. Pure Old Skool Romance at its hideous best. Definitely not of the epoch that we romance readers are most proud.

As any self-respecting romance novel reader and pseudo-writer would have done, I allowed my panties to get in a respectable twist. Because without directly stating it, by choosing a book with the title "Palaces of Desire", Eric and Kathy were making fun of romance novels. And it goes to follow that they are indirectly mocking those who read and love romance novels. In promoting this viewpoint on their radio show, they were also affirming to the masses that it is not only understandable to mock the romance genre, it is perfectly acceptable to do so. Without apology, even.

And thinking I should walk the talk, I fired off an e-mail to DJs Eric and Kathy to express how I felt about this. I tried my best to be firm yet intelligent, saddened yet eloquent, discouraged yet hopeful they might be able to see the error of their ways. I suggested that the rest of the morning team read books in other genres, so that the ridicule and mockery might be spread rather than heaped on romance's already sagging shoulders. Too, I offered up the lovely Beyond Heaving Bosoms: A Smart Bitches Guide to Romance Novels as an antidote to their delusions about romance being not much better than poorly written smut read by ignorant fools who just don't know any better. And, finally, I suggested that if they were going to go through with this farce, a least choose a well-written romance novel that has a chance of standing up proud and tall to represent the genre properly.

I guess my e-mail wasn't as diplomatic as I'd hoped. Eric's e-mail response was incredulous. As in:

"You have GOT to be kidding me!"

He went on to say that this idea is all in fun, all in response to the booming sales of romance novels, yada yada yada. Net net, no mocking was being done, you fishwife freak.

At first I felt embarrassed for having come across as a shrew, probably causing Eric to picture me as a frumpy, middle-aged housewife with my cats slinking around my slippered feet as I padded around in my mumu, wondering if the mailman might like to come in for a cuppa and maybe a little something-something. Being once Catholic and always a woman, I instinctively replied to Eric in apology form. Sorry for coming across as harsh and seeming to not get that this was all in fun. No intention to offend, of course.

But I did follow that expression of shame with a request that if they are going to do this, take it seriously. Have Swany read a good romance novel. Have him give his honest opinion, without the filter of snark and ridicule. A reminder that many people listen to this Chicago-based radio show, and that Eric and Kathy could do a service to romance readers by helping us gain respect rather than perpetuate the genre as a joke. In short, use their power for good, not evil.

Know what I did next? I went and tattle-taled. I invoked the Power of the Bitches. My little blog gets very tiny traffic, but the Bitches? They are fierce. I asked them to post a little bit about my experience because I wanted to know if I had done the right thing by taking the Mix to task for this "just for fun" radio bit. Had I maybe overreacted? I hoped that a blog post at Smart Bitches might generate some outraged responses that I could use as balm to my wounded romance-lovin' sensibilities.

And what book should producer Swany be reading? What book represents the very best of the genre, a book that would wipe the smirks off their faces and have them begging for more right after they issued public, on-air apologies to everyone who'd ever been laughed at for reading a romance?

That Queen of All Bitches, Sarah, replied to my cry for support with her own salvo - an e-mail full o' whoop ass sent to Eric himself. I know not what she wrote, nor do I have the effects as of yet. I'm hoping she'll keep me posted.

It's not that I don't want Swany to read a romance. In truth, it would be kind of cool if he took this very seriously and read a well-selected title genuinely chosen because of its quality and not its ability to illicit giggles out of 13 year old boys. I'd love to get his insight. I'd love to have him admit that there's more to a romance novel than man titty and Fabio hair. And I'd love for Eric and Kathy to treat this book with the same respect they'd give to something they'd choose to read for themselves.

I can ignore slights on the genre for the most part. But this time, for some reason, I just couldn't let it go. Maybe it's the prospect of tuning in to the local country station all summer so I can avoid hearing any mention of Swany's progress that pisses me off so much. Or maybe it's imagining all of the commuters sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, smirking self-importantly with each mention of "Palaces of Desire", knowing that they'd never stoop to reading such crap.

Maybe I should check out "Palaces of Desire" from the library and read it myself. Maybe this book is kick-ass. Maybe it'll do the genre proud and Eric will end up with egg on his face when Swany raves about it. I can only hope.

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The Demon Prince Vs. Prince Charming

Back in March, I posted an entry about American Idol contestant Adam Lambert. My opinion has not changed. He's still sex on a stick.

The guy I didn't talk about in March was Kris Allen. Not that I hadn't notice him back then. I had. Specifically, I first noticed Kris on Wednesday, February 18th, when he appeared in a dance montage that introduce Group 2 of the AI semi-finals rounds. My thoughts at the time were "Who's that cute guy with the dark hair and brown eyes? I don't recall ever seeing him before." after which time I headed to the AI website to find out more about him. After which time I recall hoping that I liked the way he sang because...well, he was cute.

Not the way Adam is the hot, sexy, Baby's done a bad, bad thing, god-if-only-he-weren't-gay kind of cute. Kris is the guy next door, high school dream boat, meet my parents, god-if-only-he-weren't-married kind of cute. (Okay, he's pretty sexy, too.)

Kris makes you think of playing a round of putt putt, sharing a malted at the soda shop, and then taking a drive to the local Look Out Point for a sweet make-out session in the front seat of his dad's Volvo before your 11:00 curfew.

Adam makes you think of skipping the malted and heading straight into the backseat of his vintage Chevy Impala before even leaving the parking lot of the mini golf place and who the hell cares what time it is.

Kris gets you a corsage and takes you to the prom.

Adam gets you a hotel room after the prom.

Adam is a Demon Prince. Kris is Prince Charming.

Anyway, the reason I didn't talk about Kris back in the day was because he was flying quiet on my radar. I watched for him that second round of semi-finals, and he proved to be a great singer. I had no problems throwing him my handful of votes and was pleasantly surprised that he made it into the Top 13 of this year's American Idol contest. When next I saw him, the season now narrowed to the real contenders, my like of Kris was validated, and so it increased over lo these many weeks with great performance after great performance. And now I'm very proud to know that I've supported this guy all the way to the finish line. No band wagoner, I.

But my point here isn't to toot my own horn or to claim that I saw that diamond in the rough a long time before Simon Cowell pulled out his usual hypocrisy in time to make himself look less like the tool he actually is. Instead, I'm finding the media's reaction to the upcoming Adam/Kris finale next week to be quite an interesting - and somewhat alarming - social commentary.

Today, I found this bit from the Baltimore Sun on-line, and it troubles me. Because in this article is the implicating that the winner of AI this year is going to define America's preference between two social extremes. It's not just Adam versus Kris. It's Acceptance versus Rejection.

If Adam pulls off the win - a great possibility given his consistent string of excellent performances, his unparalleled vocal talent, and the media hype and clear frontrunner status he's held since pretty much Week 2 of the contest - it means that America has apparently embraced what many have decided that Adam personifies: acceptance of non-traditional sexual identities, celebration of those outside the mainstream, and unabashed enjoyment of our own freakish differences, as dark as those may run.

But if Kris wins - also a distinct possibility because America loves nothing so much as an underdog - it somehow means that not only is society NOT ready to accept those same constructs, but in fact longs to return to some idyllic farce of the 1950s when teens danced with a respectable ruler's-width of space between their bodies and gay people stayed in the closets where they belonged.

The issues I have with the Sun's slant are plentiful.

The most glaring problem with this article's assertion is that it places a lot of weight and significance on a fairly superficial decision. People tend to like a musical performer mostly because of the way that person performs music. If the contestant sings in a style they like, and if they can imagine buying a CD full of his music, they might pick up the phone and throw a few votes in that guy's kitty. They aren't really worried so much about committing America to one form of group-think or another if they pick up the phone and vote for one contestant over the other. I hardly think that some 30 million plus AI viewers are commenting on the path they want American culture to follow. They just know that Kris plays the guitar, which is always cool, but Adam sounds just like Robert Plant and Stairway to Heaven is their all time favorite song ever.

Too, I'm sure if anyone asked either Kris or Adam, neither guy would be happy to learn that he'd become the Poster Boy for one particular worldview, a worldview with fairly narrow parameters at that. The two men are very good friends, accepting of each other and the various facets of life they both represents. They don't seem to feel any level of Me versus Him, and I'm certain they wouldn't want the world to use them as banner carriers for the Liberals vs. Conservatives, the Blue States vs. Red States, or even the Stadium Rockers vs. Singer-Songwriters.

Additionally, the Sun's article fails to take into fact that a good number of AI watchers are what you'd call Kradam fans. (Note: I use this term in the "likes both Adam and Kris as singers" context, not the Adam-slash-Kris context that some are wont to do). We like both Adam and Kris. We don't want to choose between them. We accept them both.

Just as Guns & Roses exists on my iPod right after the Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, I embrace the rights of all consenting adults to love whomever they feel compelled to love even as I also believe that kids should be encouraged to wait as long as possible to become sexually active. I'm super cool with men who wear guyliner (especially if it makes them look like this), but I cringe when confronted with facial piercings. I think people who aren't in the military and drive Hummers should be forced to pay a 200% gas guzzler tax but I think kids should be able to form voluntary prayer groups in public schools as long as they meet outside of school hours and all religions are allowed equal opportunity. I'm a virtual bag o' contrasts.

And next week, I probably won't vote for either Adam or Kris because I like them both so darned much, I can't bear to choose. I appreciate Adam's unbelievable talent, but I sometimes wince when he sings especially screechy scream-rock songs. Kris's ability to arrange songs I didn't think I liked in ways that make me spend money because it's now must-have music ("Heartless" anyone?) is mind-blowing to my musically challenged brain, yet John Mayer types are a dime a dozen on radio stations these days. Both have things I love and things I don't love so much. And in the end, I want both my Demon Prince and my Prince Charming.

My point being, crowning Adam over Kris does not mean that we've advanced as a civilization such that prejudice and oppression are no longer problems we need to address. Nor does a Kris over Adam victory set us back decades as far as acceptance of non-normative life styles.

Voting for one of these guys just means that either Adam or Kris gave some kick-ass performances and that a majority of AI viewers like one style of music a little bit more than another.

I'm just happy I get to watch these guys for another week.

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Affected

So, my daughter has this thing where she dots her i's with little open circles that look like the ones in the Disney logo. She also makes the dots at the bottom of her exclamation points the same way. She thinks it's cool to do this because she's of that age when it is cool to others of her age to do such things.

I told her dotting her i's with circles is affected. She asked me what affected means. I explained.

Dictionary.com lists the following entry for affected:
-adjective: assumed artificially; unnatural; feigned

Oxford American Dictionary offers up the following definition for affected: -adjective: pretentious, or designed to impress

Last night, I finished reading the latest installment of J.R. Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood series, Lover Avenged. And the one word that ran through my mind the entire time I was reading was, you guessed it, affected.

Because as vivid and complex of a world that Ward has created, as compelling as her alpha heroes may be, as intricate of plots she manages to weave, Ward's style of writing is so unbelievably affected that it yanks me out of the story time and time again. It's all that comes to mind when I think of her books. I no longer can lose myself into the story because I've reached the point where I'm actively looking for examples, and I squeal in glee when they pop up every few paragraphs. It's almost a game to me.

For those not in the know, Ward's heroes are these massive, preternaturally strong, virile, uber-male vampire warriors. Macho he-men killers who don't know the meaning of the term refractory period. They bond with their heroines so completely they even carve the gal's name across their back to create permanent scars, proving their devotion and complete loyalty. They can kill you with a mere look, don't so much as wince when they are dealt near-mortal wounds, and wear leather the way most of us wear cotton.

These heroes also say and/or think things like:

"You just say the word, 'kay?"

When the waitress brought freshies, John glanced over at the redhead...

"I'm outtie then."

He made her shift her weight onto one foot so he could pop off her stillie and shuck her Sevens free...

Okay. I'm sorry, but what heterosexual male not involved in the fashion industry in some aspect or another would ever - EVER - use the word stillie? Heck, how many men even know what that word is slang for? Ask any random man to name the correct term for a stilleto and 99 times out of a 100 the answer would probably be "those spikey heel shoes".

And what person over the age of 13, of either sex, would seriously say "I'm outtie?"

The reason I find Ward affected is because she seems to think that shortening words and adding "ie" to the ends of them (freshies? outie? stillie? and there are so many, many more examples I'm too lazy to go back and find) as part of her characters' verbal and mental vocabulary gives them dimension. By using this form of tween slang, they aren't cardboard cutout alpha males but well-rounded, sensitive sorts who are in touch with their inner kid.

It's the writer equivalent of dotting her i's with open little circles in order to make her characters unique and deep.

Really, though, it creates a complete mental dissonance when reading the story that causes me to come full stop in the middle of sentence. I'm supposed to believe these guys are stone cold killers who inspire fear in everyone they encounter when they're telling each other to just chill, 'kay?

It doesn't make these guys metrosexual chic. It doesn't make them in touch with their feminine, sensitive sides. It doesn't even make them guys with a surprising knowledge of women's fashion and incredible good taste. It makes them little girls. And little girls aren't really that scary.

Writing natural-sounding dialogue is very hard. And slang is a most useful tool in accomplishing this elusive goal. But come on. Stillie? Really?

I admit that Ward's books are like crack as far as addictiveness goes, so for that I give her mad props (something her guys would say). As much as I want to walk away, somehow I just can't. And this is shameful given how many other issues I have with her writing style (don't get me started on the label-dropping). But it's this authorial tic that is like to drive me away completely.

I mean it. If she keeps doing it, I am so outtie.

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There's a Reason It's Hard to Change Your Name

For me, naming characters is a big deal. Maybe not as big of a deal as naming my kids, but it really can help or hinder my writing process. The perfect name is key for me to capture the true essence of a character. And I just know - KNOW - when I haven't quite gotten it right. It's a nag in the back of my brain that just won't be quiet no matter how hard I try to ignore it.

But there is nothing worse than going forward and doing a lot of work (as in, a ton!) and then realizing that you got the name of a key character wrong. You thought you'd finally settled on something. It worked okay. Didn't love it, but you could live with it.

And then you hear the right name. The One. The name that has just that certain je ne sais quoi that screams "This is who he is!" It's perfect. So perfect that now the old name will. not. work. At all. It sucks. Why did you ever think it was acceptable?

Which, for me, is tragic. Because now I have to go back through every piece of work I've done and change the name. Sure, I could do the old Find/Replace dance. But I'm the type of writer who does all kinds of planning in Word documents and on spreadsheets and an entire Curio project board. I'm talking some hard core hunting in not only story text but in all of the backup documentation I rely on to keep me sane.

God help me if the new name renders another character's name problematic. Which...gads, I think I'm facing. I have a headache.

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