Once upon a time, Vauxhall Gardens was the place to go for music, wafer-thin ham…and stolen kisses along the Dark Walk. Vauxhall and its entertainment are front and center in many historical novels. And now, some new history is being made! The Vauxhall Vixens have arrived to share our variety of voices with you. We’re a group of writers determined to find pleasure and publication. Come join us in our journey. We’re still getting dressed backstage, but we’d love to have you stop by.

And because I am certainly certifiable, you will still find me blogging here at MRMR and on Sundays at Romantic Inks. Because I’m blog-bewitched, my next post here will be the 100th! Who knew I had 100 ideas? Please come to my virtual party. You know there will be fun and prizes. See you soon!

You know I get my philosophy straight from fortune cookies, even though I actually dated a philosophy major in college and took the required courses. One of my favorites is “Ignorance on fire is better than knowledge on ice.” I’m about to prove that right.

I’m hot. Well, maybe luke-warm, but a handsome fireman at hand is never a bad thing to extinguish the self-immolation.

I placed first in the East Texas RWA chapter’s Southern Heat contest in the historical division! The book is Waking Beauty, a tale of a sweet young woman who supports her niece and an impoverished viscount who needs an instant family so he con his old aunt out of some money. This was the second book I completed (more than a year ago), long before I knew about POV and GMC. The editor who judged the contest will now read the full manuscript. This is exciting, but also scary. Much revision looms ahead because of the vast quantities of ignorance flaming throughout. The book is so hot my eyeballs are on fire. Say your prayers for me that I can reacquaint myself with Penelope and Dominic. They both have good bone structure but their clothes are sadly shabby.

And they must remain fully dressed, as the publishing house I’ll submit to states “There is no graphic or premarital sex or sexual tension in any of our novels.” Amazingly enough, Penny insisted on remaining a virgin until the last chapter, even after Dominic had married her! Some of the secondary characters were naughty, but they’ll be going south anyway—I have to cut about 20,000 words.

So you know what I’ll be doing for a while. How about you? Are you entering any contests? Dating any firemen or philosophers?

I recently finished a romance novel with a plot based on a hot anonymous encounter between two old friends. The heroine was masked, and despite the fact that the hero had known her forever, and kept encountering her as her “real” self, he never made the connection. To this, I say, “Faugh!” I’ve been to a few costume parties in my time, and never once was I ever confused as to anyone’s identity. I believe I’d be highly insulted if someone failed to recognize my full, pouty lips and breathy voice just because I wore a feathered mask. But I realize this improbable masquerade scenario can be found in countless romances.

We generally suspend belief when we read fiction, but I fear the masked ball pushes me into severe rationality. As much as I would like to misbehave without getting caught, I’d be the one in the corner saying, “Oh, that’s George—see his weak chin? Look, it’s Lady Glum. She’s still laughing like a hyena.” So this plotline is not one that automatically makes me plunk down my hard-earned cash.

Read or written any good masquerades lately? What plots bore you to bits or strain your credulity?

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth. ~Oscar Wilde

Writers are encouraged to give their characters fears, flaws or foibles for several reasons. I know I hate to read about “perfect” people. They remind me of the annoying kids in the “In Crowd” in high school, the kids with the new cars and the cool clothes who got onto the Honor Roll and into the best schools without breaking a sweat or needing a scholarship. They were already living their happy ending, or at least it looked that way when I was a young jealouspuss.

I’m mature enough now to agree with Roseanne Roseannadanna: “It’s always something.” You never know what hidden misery lurks behind that perfectly brace-less smile and cheerleader uniform. Thus has my well-earned wisdom spared me from watching the new crop of teen reality shows. There’s always plenty of angst to go around.

So, I’ve been toying with what makes a good, reasonable quirk for a hero or heroine to have. I’ve read about those afraid of thunderstorms, commitment, going blind/insane, horses, performance failure, dancing, etc.

If I were my own heroine, I’d have major rodent aversion. Lately, we have been overrun with field mice, which’ve abandoned the snowy pastures and are holing up in drawers, basement boxes, and my pantry closet. The other night one ran into the bathroom while I was—uh, using it, and I’m surprised you didn’t hear me scream wherever you live.

We are now hosting a Decon buffet throughout the house, since the little bastards just licked the peanut butter and cheese off the spring-traps. I’m leaving the hall light on so there are no furry surprises as I stumble around in the night. My grandmother was similarly afflicted with mouse mania; I remember her leaping up onto a chair when she was in her seventies, the most exercise she’d gotten in decades.

There is no rational reason to be afraid of tiny, cute creatures, but I hate them with an all-consuming passion. And it’s not because I’m concerned about that virus they can harbor, either. Even if they presented me with a clean bill of health from a vet, I’d want them dead.

Do you have any mouse tales? Any irrational fears? What about characters in books, either your own or someone else’s?

Fear is static that prevents me from hearing myself. ~Samuel Butler

I’m talking about imaginary friends (not mice) on Romantic Inks this Sunday. Please join me! And there are still some great items to bid on at the auction, which ends on Saturday, January 26.