To all the Moms out there, Authorial and otherwise, who love their own kids, who love their friends’ kids, who cuddle pets, whose mother is here today or has gone on before them,  I wish you all a Happy Mother’s Day!

Today, May 2nd, was the day I was supposed to go to a meet n’ greet with Val Kilmer, who was going to be in nearby Hannibal for something Mark Twain-y. I had an outfit, an autographed copy of my book, and a camera. Just one photo, that’s all I needed.

Alas. ‘Twas not to be.

I came home from work to a series of messages from both the Mark Twain Boyhood Home and my Gram, aged 97, who volunteers at the Mark Twain Museum once a week.

Val Kilmer had to cancel. With no rescheduling.

Now, I’m crushed. CRUSHED. But this is for ‘personal reasons,’ which could mean any number of things, so we’re not going to go all medieval on Val. Instead, I’m going to hope that everything’s okay, have the scheduled dinner with my Gram, where she will fill any silent, self-pitying void with constant chatter that will distract me from missing my big, Val-based moment in the sun, and then come home and have copious amounts of sweet, consoling wine.

But there will be no photo, no autographed book, no Mad-Men-esque-sexy-mom dress. Just dinner with my Gram.

Crushed.

Do you live in or near Chicago? Would you like to meet Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Courtney Milan, Erica O’Rourke, Blythe Gifford, or one of over 75 authors, including–best of all–ME?

Well, have I got a deal for you! This Saturday, April 28th, from 2:30 until 4 p.m. at the Chicago Marriott Northwest (4800 Hoffman Boulevard, Hoffman Estates, IL  60192), over 75 romance authors will signing books, handing out chocolate and other goodies, and generally being as thrilled as heck to see you! And no, that’s not just me. I’ll have bookmarks for A Man of Privilege, copies of both A Man of His Word and Eleanore Gray (the inspirational historical my grandmother wrote) and lots and lots of Hershey’s Kisses! Plus–bonus–I will have on the hat AND boots! What more could you want?

All the details are here, so make plans to stop by, meet some fabulous authors, and get some autographed books. And remember–it’s never too early to start Christmas shopping!

Hope to see you there!

What is Brenda Novak’s Diabetes Auction? (I swear, if you said ‘where she auctions off some diabetes,’ I’m coming after you.) But seriously, it’s this online auction–like eBay, but all for charity–where authors, agents, and editors donate time and things to be auctioned off, with all the proceeds going to fighting diabetes. One of my bestest friends has had diabetes since she was in sixth grade; my brother-in-law was recently diagnosed. So this is an issue I’m pretty close to.

I first heard about Brenda Novak’s auction because it was the key plot point, if you will, in the success story of Courtney Milan. Courtney won the auction to have best-selling author Sherry Thomas read her query letter. The query letter was so bad, and attempts at revision were so unproductive, that Sherry finally told Courtney to send her the book, and she’d just write the query letter herself. While the query was terrible, the book was amazing, Sherry forwarded it to her agent, Courtney got signed, and a six-figure, three-book deal landed in her lap. (More or less. I’m neither Courtney or Sherry, so this is all paraphrasing, to say the least.)

In other words, my first impression of the Brenda Novak Diabetes Auction was that it made dreams come true. However, whenever the annual auction came around, I was never in a place where I could bid on an agent critique, or an editor review. True, there are lots (and lots and lots) of other things to buy–even trips to Africa!–but I always got outbid. Darn it!

This year, though, I’m finally in a position to donate not by buying, but by giving. So, to that end, I’m thrilled to announce that I have donated a signed copy of A Man of His Word, a pair of sterling-silver earrings, and a critique of the first three chapters of an unpublished manuscript with bonus follow-up phone call! (Although email is good, too. Either way).

Bidding opens on May 1st and closes on May 31st. In the past, bids jump up in the beginning, then tend to sit there for a few weeks before going nuts in the last few days. However, to combat this slump, I’ve challenged author Melissa Cutler, who’s donating an ARC of her debut cowboy story, to an Author Bid Showdown–whoever gets the highest bid gets the biggest bragging rights!

In other words, I love trash-talkin’, and Melissa loves trash-talkin’, and we’re going to hone our trash-talkin’ skills on each other. For Charity, baby!

So stay tuned, and check out all the wonderful items you can bid on at Brenda Novak’s Diabetes Auction!

Did the title of the blog alone make you jealous? It should have. Very, very jealous!

I’m going to a meet n’ greet with Val Kilmer. Yes. Seriously. He’s coming to Hannibal, Missouri to promote a pet project–in which he will play Mark Twain–and I got a ticket. (No, I’m not making a single bit of this up. I’m dead serious, people!) You can read all about the event here.

I’ve also learned something. How you react to the name “Val Kilmer” can, within 3 years, predict how old you are. Really.

For instance, if you say, “Val Kilmer? Is that a guy or a girl?” then I know immediately that you are a snot-nosed teenager who should be sentenced to watch Real Genius until you learn some respect for your elders.

If you say, “Val Kilmer? That creepy old guy?” then I know immediately that you are between the ages of 22 and 28 and should be locked in a room with Willow–and also the actor playing Willow, Warwick Davis (whom you probably only know as Professor Flitwick, you youngin’).

If you say, “Oh my God, THE Val Kilmer? Can I come with you?” then I know that you between the ages of 29 and 45, and were going to the movies with me back in the late 80s and early 90s, when Val’s intense acting and hunky bod took up almost all the space reserved for ‘bad boys’ in our hearts and minds. These women are my friends and do not have to be sentenced to watch Tombstone or Top Gun. They were already planning on coming over and bringing popcorn, wine, and tales of teenaged lusting-in-our-hearts.

If you say, “Oh, that Val Kilmer was quite something back in the day, wasn’t he?” then I know that you are probably pushing 50 or higher, and you also saw Val in his prime, but were old enough at the time to *not* develop extensive, high-school crushes on an unattainable actor, no matter how focused his gaze could be. You’re also invited to movie night, and will probably bring Junior Mints.

If you say, “Wasn’t he in that movie from the 70s?” then I know that you are probably my Gram, who turns 97 today, and further attempts at explanation will only lead to the Spiral of Chit-Chat Death, so I’ll just change the subject to how to pronounce the name of the new St. Louis Cardinals (Mah-THEN-ee, for the last time!)

An Evening With Val Kilmer isn’t until May 2nd, which means I’ve got *loads* of time to drop another twenty pounds, find the perfect I’m-married-but-still-got-it outfit, and practice NOT devolving into a giggling, gushing, 16-year-old version of myself.

Because I’m going to meet Val Kilmer. THE Val Kilmer.

Friends, voting has closed, and the readers have spoken. Karina Bliss is going to move forward in the DABWAHA voting, and it’s time to put aside our petty, color-based differences and unite as category authors against the rest of the world. I heartily support my former opponent, Karina Bliss, and her cohort, Sarah Mayberry, in future rounds.

Well met, ladies. Well met.


Don’t forget to keep voting! Other rounds are now open!

Here’s the thing about me and my weight. I’ve never been skinny or thin, not even as a little girl. I’m 5’9, so I carry it well, but I’ve always, always been a big girl. Luckily, I married a man who doesn’t care (which is doubly good, because that man hasn’t changed since I met him, except his hair is more salt and pepper).

Sarah M. Anderson, in what we’re gonna call the ‘Before’ picture.

I know that there’s been a lot of Authorial to discuss recently, and trust me, there’s going to be a ton more Authorial coming your way in the next few months. But I don’t want you to thing that I’m not doing a whole bunch of Mom stuff. Because I am. Boy, am I. Observe:

This is our entry way, or, if you’re feeling ‘fancy,’ our foyer. Note the run-of-the-mill cream-colored walls. Boring! (Not the woodwork, though. The woodwork is anything but dull and one of the reasons we bought the house!) (Butternut, for all you wood fans out there.)

So, I’ve lived with the vanilla (literally!) walls for six years. But I bought wallpaper to cover them two years ago. It was my Valentine’s Day present. Next time I get wallpaper for a gift, you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m going to get some installation to go with it.

Okay, no need to dwell on wallpaper that sat unseen under a bed for multiple years of my life. The important thing here is that we hung it, and now the end result is fabulous!

Because I’m what you call ‘OCD’ and my husband is what you call ‘legally blind,’ I was in charge of the detail cutting and trimming. I wield a mean utility knife, let me tell you.Yes, I’m on a ladder in this picture. I’m tall, but I’m not THAT tall.

The end result?

So much more formal and classy, although I’m fully aware that wallpaper may be one of the most subjective things out there, but I like it, and it’s my house, so there.

BTW, that kind of light is called a pan light, because the body is shaped like a pan (duh!). I knew you’d want to know.

Why are we hanging wallpaper? Well, the short answer is that we’re weird. The longer answer is that our house is on the Quincy Preserves Behind Closed Doors fall tour this coming Saturday, October 15, from 10 until 4! I’ll be handing out some of those 2,000 bookmarks, so stop by and see the wallpaper for yourself!

So there you have it. In addition to being published by Harlequin, raising a child that verges on precocious, having my home on a tour, and being a fabulous chef (oh, wait…), I also make time in life to slap some well-aged paper on a wall. It’s okay to be jealous. You didn’t stab yourself with a utility knife!