General musings

Today is pet peeve day. Which means that Jennifer’s going to rant for the duration of this post. So, here goes.

Why do people always blame the weatherman when it’s raining and nasty and cold outside? I’ve been pondering this question since watching my local news, where the anchor asked the weather guy if he felt any pressure to deliver a nice weekend for a local music festival. The weatherman laughed and said that he was going to do his best.

If this is what passes for witty banter these days, we’re all in trouble. 

C’mon. The weatherman has no control over the heavens. He doesn’t have any power to make it sunny or rainy. Yet, just about every broadcast, the news anchor makes some comment about how John Doe better give them some good weather for the weekend. Like he can just reach in his pocket, sprinkle around some magic pixie dust, and make it sunny and 70 degrees. Geez.

What about you? Do you blame the weatherman? Inquiring minds want to know …

Sometime today, no matter what you’re doing, take a moment to pause and reflect and remember those who were taken from us five years ago — and those who have given their lives since.

Let’s all honor their sacrifice and remember their bravery.

I spent most of yesterday watching the U.S. Open tennis tournament. Between naps, of course. And I realized something.

A lot of hot guys play tennis.

And they can provide a world of inspiration to romance-writer types like me. All your classic male archetypes are on display on the hard courts of Flushing Meadows.

Take for instance Rafael Nadal — he’s your dark, sultry Latin type. Then, there’s Roger Federer — the coolest guy around no matter how intense the pressure is. If you’re more into the all-American boy-next-door, look no further than Andy Roddick. There’s scrappy Lleyton Hewitt and classy Andre Agassi and a dozen others.

What about you? Where do you find inspiration for your male heroes? Inquiring minds want to know …

So, it’s about 11 a.m. Sunday. I’m getting ready to watch the U.S. Open, where Andre Agassi is scheduled to play. Agassi has decided to retire after this tournament, so this is his professional swan song. Agassi is old and creaky (in tennis/pro sports terms). He’s not favored to make it to the final.

But gosh darn it if I don’t want him to.

What is it about the underdog that fascinates us? Why do we feel compelled to cheer for the little guys, even though we know we’re probably going to be disappointed?

I think it’s because we’ve all been the underdog at some point. We’re the ones who weren’t supposed to get the promotion, or weren’t supposed to win that award, or weren’t supposed to overcome those pesky obstacles.

Publishing is one of the toughest businesses to be in. The chances of someone writing a novel and getting it published are very, very, very small. But people write every day. They submit their work to agents and editors every day. They get rejected and disappointed and hurt every day.

But sometimes, they succeed.

It took me eight years of being an underdog, but I beat the odds. All those years of sitting in front of my computer and listening to the voices in my head finally paid off. I got a wonderful agent. I got “the call.” I have a book coming out. In short, I won. I triumphed.

It’s a glorious feeling.

I did it, and so can you. No matter what it is, whether you dream of publishing a book or playing pro sports. You can do it.

And so could Andre Agassi. It’s not probable, it’s not likely, but he could do it. He could pull it off. He could win the U.S. Open and end his career on a high note. I know I’ll be cheering him on the whole time.

Do you consider yourself an underdog? What areas of your life would you like to triumph in? What would your perfect moment be? Inquiring minds want to know …

Is there anything sexier than Dominic Purcell with his unbuttoned shirt on Prison Break? I don’t think so. Get that man on a romance cover stat!

BTW, Prison Break writers, if by some wild chance you are reading this, I have a great idea about a new love interest you could bring on for Lincoln – a sassy Southern gal with an axe to grind against the evil Prez. She’s rich and hot and springs LJ from jail. Just a thought. 

Summer is over. Time to buckle down and get back to work. Which means writing one more book before the end of the year for me. Right now, I’m calling it Codename: Kudzu. A hideous title, but my brain is fried right now.

The return of professional football is less than a week away now. Go Bills!