in the wee small hours

This morning I woke up at 4:25 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. My mind was spinning in all different directions. Balancing my checkbook: did I remember to record the electric bill I paid last week? My upcoming weekend: meeting my boyfriend’s mother, eek! The dog's heartworm medication: did I already give that to him this month? And so on.

4:25 is way too early to be awake. It’s what’s referred to in our house as “the crack of stupid”, as dawn was still a ways off (though the sky was starting to lighten - dawn comes pretty early here in the Pacific Northwest). And all the unproductive wandering my mind was doing was making it impossible to get back to sleep.

So in an effort to at least be semi-productive while lying there staring at the ceiling, I started thinking about the story I’ve been working on since October 2005.

In October 2005 I was sitting in a bar in San Francisco with Christine and our darling friend Shannon. It was our joint vacation, the only time the three of us would be able to get together for the year, as I was still living in Texas and they were both in New Jersey. We’d planned to go to New Orleans, but Hurricane Rita had just recently made visiting (and living in) New Orleans impossible, so at the last minute we changed course and headed to SF.

While Christine had visited the city before, I’d never been and neither had Shannon, so we were doing all sorts of touristy things (and other things, seeing as how we were there for Fleet Week, but that’s another story). So we’d traipsed up to Haight-Ashbury – just to say we had – and found this little bar. Traipsing is hard work, especially with all those hills down there, so we settled in with a round of cocktails. And I got to talking about this idea I had for a new book.

Paranormals aren’t my strong suit , but I had an idea to combine the basic elements of a paranormal with a contemporary romantic comedy, which is what I do best, into a story about a witch. A witch who has “issues” with her unique gifts, some rather unconventional ideas about how to best make use of them, and the trouble that ensues.

I remember scrounging for a pad of paper and a pen, bouncing ideas off both Christine and Shannon and incorporating their feedback into the notes I was making. I came out of that bar jazzed and raring to go.

And almost four years later I’m still not finished. Lest you think I’m a complete sloth I have started it. A few times, actually. But I always end up hating what I’ve done and tossing it to start over, and the result is that after four years I’ve got a handful of notes and nothing else.

But you know, that nearly two hours between 4:25 and my alarm going off at 6:10 might have jump started things. I’ll keep you posted.

What's In A Name?

What on earth or all the exoplanets made you call your blog about being romance novelists something as ridiculous as Sweet Savage Thighs?

Well, my friends, despite popular opinion there was indeed a method to this madness.

I was raised--and genetically predisposed--to become an avid reader. I started before I entered kindergarten (or maybe even before nursery school) and had made my way through The Lord of the Rings, the Encyclopedia Brown books, the entire Anne of Green Gables series (the original series), and Gone with the Wind by the time I entered fifth grade. Coincidentally, around that time my mother had a semi-serious illness that kept her from being very active for at least a couple of weeks, and one of her considerate friends brought her a bag of books in order to stave off boredom. Since my mom was a much slower (and pickier) reader than I was, I naturally decided to look through the selection in the bag to see if there might be anything that interested me. Pawing through the paperbacks, I came up with 2 volumes of a sort I'd never seen before: romance novels! One was an old Harlequin Presents title by Carole Mortimer, and the other was a historical set in medieval Scotland by an author I can no longer remember. Intrigued, I snagged the two books and began to read.

It was the beginning of the end.

Someday I may relate the entire story of my early days as an addict (Hello, my name is Christine, and I'm a romance-aholic...), but for now, suffice it to say that I have continued to gobble up romance novels from series contemporary to historical to paranormal and regency right up until this very day. Naturally, this involved spending lots and lots of time in bookstores, often with my dear high school friend.

Anyway, one evening after dinner, my friend and I were strolling through the aisle between the sci-fi/fantasy and romance sections of our neighborood big-box bookstore, and I was alternately looking back and forth at the shelves and perusing the books of both enjoyable genres. At the time, the American Western historical romance was a bit more prominent than it is today and several novels of that sub-genre had been faced out on the romance shelves. My eyes drifted over titles and cover art featuring passionate clinches, long and wind-swept hair styles (occasionally with the hero's and heroine's hair somehow swept by winds moving in opposite directions), loincloths, leather, and ruffled skirts. Then, without warning, I burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" my friend demanded.

I blinked, looked at the shelf again, and shook my head. "Nothing, really. I just glanced over from the fantasy shelf, and I saw that book out of the corner of my eye."

I pointed to the novel in question, something with a title intended to help the reader identify it as one involving a young, blonde, innocent heroine who is kidnapped and falls in love with her strong, noble, vigorous, and tender Native American captor.

My friend shrugged. "What about it? It doesn't look funny to me."

"Oh, it's not, but I thought the title was Savage Thighs, and I thought, you know, that was getting right to the point."

So, from that moment on, Savage Thighs became my default fictional romance title of reference. After I told the story of it to Hannah, she agreed that it would make a grand blog title, especially enhanced with the addition of the "Sweet" in front.

This is not to suggest that I (nor Hannah, for that matter) find romance novels ridiculous or cliched or an object of comtempt. I LOVE romances. Heck, I make my living writing them! But one of the few rules in life that I try to never break is to always be able to poke fun at the things I love, including myself. It seems to me that whenever we begin to take a subject too seriously, we take all the joy out of whatever it was that used to make us so happy.

So for pete's sake, LAUGH! It's the second most important thing you can ever do in this world. The first, of course, being to LOVE.

Get over yourself, already

One thing about being a romance writer always, always amuses me – the looks on people’s faces when they ask me what I do, and get that answer in response. Usually it’s a combination of “Shut up, you do not!” and “Really? That’s so cool!”. Then they want to know exactly what I write, where they can find my work, and how much money I make doing it.

Which is none of their business, but that hardly stops them from asking. (Hell, if I only asked about the stuff that is actually my business to know, I’d be known as “that quiet girl, Hannah”, instead of “that nosy bitch”).

Of all those questions, I find the “where can I buy your book?” is often the most difficult to answer. Not that I don’t know where to find my own books, I mean difficult in the “golly, do I want this person to read my work?” sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have people express an interest in buying my work (yes, buy my books, I need the money!). And normally, I whip out a pen and write down all the titles and were exactly they can be found (I really need to have more business cards printed up). But when my boss at my day job – a lovely woman, but somewhat conservative – asks me where she can find my books? You know, the ones with the bondage and the handcuffs and the sex toys and the anal sex? Frankly, that’s a little awkward making!

Which really, I have to get over. I’m a writer, after all, and there’s no reason I shouldn’t tell people that. I’m proud of my work, and I should be willing to express that as well And there’s no reason to think I have to shield consenting adults from reading anything, whether I’ve written it or not. Though of course I’m not trying to shield them, I’m trying to shield me – from feeling awkward or uncomfortable or whatever one would feel when a boss or co-worker gets a glimpse of just what goes on in my mind.

But that’s limiting, you know? And since I’m trying to put myself out there more, it really doesn’t make sense not to tell a reader where they can find my stuff. Especially if they’re specifically asking for it! Of course, I can always tell them that my work is fairly explicit – a small warning of this kind is really just polite, I believe (I really don’t want someone to pick up “A Toy Story” expecting something with a talking cowboy doll) – and then they can make up their own mind about whether or not to give it a go.

So I’m just going to get over myself. Or more accurately, pretend I’ve gotten over myself. I’m sure I’ll still feel awkward and a little uncomfortable at the thought of my boss reading the sex on the dresser scene in “The Devil and Ms. Johnson”, or the handcuff scene in "Jane and the Sneaky Dom", but whatever. After all, I got over my mother reading those books, and if I can get over that? I can get over anything.

Ten Things About Hannah

I hate writing bios. First, there's never enough room to write everything that bears mentioning - I am an incredibly complicated human being (as we all are) and my life and accomplishments cannot be summed up in three paragraphs. So my bios tend to be really long winded, and then of course I never believe that everyone actually sits down and reads the whole thing.

But I figure if you're here reading this, and you don't already know me, you might be a little curious about who I am. To that end, I'm doing a Ten Things About Me list. Oh, there's a traditional bio up on my website, which you're more than welcome to go check out - but I figure I can be a little less traditional on a blog. And just to make things fun, I'll tell you that there's nothing on this list that also appears on the bio.

1. I think the alphabet is arranged in the wrong order - "S" should come later, so should "Q"; the positioning of "H" is completely wrong and don't even get me started on "U"
   
2. I take horseback riding lessons (dressage)
3. I’m an excellent baker, but a mediocre cook
4. I spent my junior year of high school in Brazil as an exchange student, and can speak, read, and write Portuguese
5. In junior high I did my hair just like Jon BonJovi - mostly because I was too lazy to resurrect a dying perm
   
6. I love to laminate things - anything that can be sealed between two pieces of heated plastic is not safe around me
   
7. I can never keep a manicure looking good for more than 48 hours
8. I work out five days a week, and have learned to trick myself into thinking I like it
9. I like eating raw rhubarb
10. The only photograph in my house of me - that shows my face and was taken after the age of five - is of me with the Stanley Cup
    

Hannah's the Talker; I'm the Sulker

The problem with weekends at the spa is that they wear off so darn quickly. While Hannah and I had a lovely experience in Seattle this past weekend, it's now Tuesday and it's back to the grindstone with me. I returned to find two envelopes staring at me: one containing the copyedited manuscript of Big, Bad Wolf (an expanded version of Missy and Graham's story, originally published as an e-book called Fur Factor) and the page proofs for "Devil's Bargain" (my contribution to the Huntress anthology, due out in July). Both need to be reviewed, revised and returned to my editors in New York. Preferably no later than three days ago. Plus, there's the new book (the seventh new Others novel) that needs to get underway, and the super-secret side project I keep trying to find time to work on in between everything else. So what am I doing this evening? Blogging, of course!

Actually, I'm doing what I often do in the evenings, which is balance my HP notebook on my lap in between trips between the sofa and the back door to let my ridiculous puppy in and out of the house. And chatting with Hannah (while she indulges her intractable addiction to The Golden Girls reruns). And trying to defend my place on the sofa from Hannah's encroaching hound. He's a total cushion thief. And me? I'm a softie. (Though if you go by that last post Hannah put it, I think the word "lush" would be the first description of me that comes to mind! No matter what she says, I swear I don't have a drinking problem. Unless you count occasionally sputtering latte onto my clothes because I've just been tackled by my insane puppy while trying to caffeinate myself at the local dog park).

I suppose I could try to tell you more about myself here, but really, in the interests of mystery, I think I'll let you pick things up as the blog goes along. Since I'm a writer, I should show, not tell, right? Plus, I'm really pretty lazy and don't find myself all that interesting (after all, I've known me for years) so listing a bunch of details about what I like and dislike and where I live and what I do for fun seems rather tedious. I'd like to think of this forum as a place where we can all get to know each other along the way.

So stay tuned. The chances are that when the details about Hannah and myself do come out, we'll find a way to make them interesting. And if all else fails, we're never above lying.

Where It Began

As I write this inaugural post, our first ever here at Sweet Savage Thighs!, I’m sitting in a gorgeous hotel room in Seattle after a day of truly decadent pampering at the spa. I have a bottle of Prosecco, some pretty awesome room service (I love this spinach salad!), and my best friend to share it with.

“That’s lovely, Hannah,” I hear you all saying, “but what the heck is Sweet Savage Thighs!, and who the heck are you?”

First, introductions. I’m Hannah Murray, and if you glance to the right of these words you’ll see an entertaining little blurb about me. Done reading that? Okay, now for a little more detail. I’m in my thirties, never you mind exactly where, and I write contemporary romantic/erotic comedies. I say romantic/erotic because I consider all of my books to be romance novels at their core, so I don’t think the word “erotica” applies. But there’s always a splash of the erotic in my tales, so it bears mentioning (I’ll get more into all of that in a later post, I promise). I’m a sucker for happy endings and sexy cars, and I have a completely inexplicable addiction to reruns of The Golden Girls. Which doesn’t make me weird.

And my best friend, who is currently pouring herself a third glass of wine, is Christine Warren. She is, as I’m sure many of you know, the author of the Others Series, a paranormal world inhabited by shapeshifters and vampires and all sorts of not quite human creatures. You can take a peek over to the left for a brief snippet about her, and while I could expound on those words as only a best friend can, I’ll leave it to her to tell you more about who she is, what she writes, and how she got here when she’s not half in the bag. But I will tell you that she is also in her thirties, though she’s a few steps behind me (and never lets me forget it). In fact, her birthday is the reason we are currently big puddles of relaxed girl goo – this spa trip was her birthday wish.

Now, on to the important thing: what are we doing here? Well, it occurred to us a while back that we’re both highly verbose, fairly charming women who actually have a lot to say on a lot of different subjects. And from this yen to express ourselves to the world at large emerged Sweet Savage Thighs! (a nod to the bodice rippers of years past, we’ll explain more later). Romance novels in general and our own work in particular will, of course, be the main topic we choose to discuss in this space, and you can expect plenty of excerpts and other insider information. But we can and will talk about a lot of other stuff too – topics like current events, fashion, wine, food (we talk about food a lot), shoes (we talk about shoes even more than we talk about food!), pets, parents, family, etc., will I’m sure all make appearances here.

And now, since I would like to enjoy the rest of my spa-bliss and Christine is getting ahead of me (three glasses of wine to my one), I’ll bid you farewell for now. We’ll be back with more soon, but if you’re curious in the meantime you can check out our respective websites for more information (www.hannahmurray.net and www.christinewarren.net).

On behalf of Christine and myself, thanks for coming by to check us out, and we sincerely hope you stick around!