I Don't Want to Rant Here, But ...

NOTE: This blog entry contains spoilers for Moulin Rouge and A Walk to Remember.

Quite awhile back, I read an interview with author Nicholas Sparks, where he helpfully pointed out that (and I'm paraphrasing here), he did not write romance novels (Did I imagine the "eeeuwww" behind the words?) because romances have happy endings, while his more literary works end tragically.

Now, I don't mind the occasional tragic ending--Kate Chopin's The Awakening and Willa Cather's O Pioneers are two of my favorite books ever in the history of ever, and they both have horrible endings. I adore the film Moulin Rouge, even though I was a sobbing mess at the end. (Jose also loves that movie, but while it's one of the very few films he's ever wanted to watch more than once, he steadfastly refuses to even acknowledge that the tragic ending exists. He either stops the DVD after Satine and Christian sing their special song and foil the Duke's dastardly plan, or he walks out of the room, sticks his fingers in his ears, and goes "Lalalala-LA!" until I finish watching. How adorable is that?)

But the underlying assumption a lot of readers seem to make--and that Sparks's comments play into, intentionally or not--is that a romance that ends horribly (and, coincidentally, is written by a man) is somehow better than a romance that ends happily.

AMUSING ASIDE: My brother Troy is a huge movie buff and is in love with Mandy Moore, so when we were both visiting my parents sometime last year, he busted out his DVD of A Walk to Remember and informed me that we were watching it. Always game for a good film recommended by Troy, I sat down and was quite enjoying the charming story of the unlikely romance between a popular jock and a slightly nerdy Christian girl. Somewhere in the middle, Troy noted that the movie was based on a Nicholas Sparks book, at which point I threw a handful of popcorn at the screen and shrieked, "UGH! That means she's going to end up with CANCER!"

And sure enough....

Here's some Sparksian wisdom about romances versus "love stories" from his Web site:

"Though both have romantic elements, the sub-genres have different requirements. Love stories must use universal characters and settings. Romance novels are not bound by this requirement and characters can be rich, famous or people who lived centuries ago and the settings can be exotic. Love stories can differ in theme, romance novels have a general theme; 'the taming of a man.' And finally, romance novels have happy endings while love stories are not bound by this requirement. Love stories usually end tragically or at best, with a bittersweet feeling for the reader."

A comment like that begs for a response, so, seeing as this is my blog, I'm responding (As if anyone doubted that I would.) Limiting women's writing (And yes, some men's, but let's face it, romance novels that actually go in the romance section of a bookstore are written mostly by women.) to a central theme that is both creepy and melodramatic denigrates our work. Although you can argue that Jane Eyre was about the "taming of a man, romance novels are as varied in theme as books in other genres. Implying that there is nothing universal or relatable about our characters is not factual in the least. And while there are some romances that have exotic settings or larger-than-life characters, those characters, on the average, tend to be people the reader can relate to at least on some level.

Sparks is right that romance novels, by definition, have happy endings. But is it just me, or does he seem to be clinging to his tragic endings, that knife edge that separates him from the romance writer plebeians, with everything he's got? Not that I really blame him, what with the current stigma romance writers labor under.

Please note that I don't begrudge Nicholas Sparks his success at all. Something about his writing obviously resonates with a lot of people, including the habitually tragic endings, or he wouldn't regularly appear on the New York Times list, nor would a New York editor have believed in him enough to give him the marketing support that helped vault his first book onto that list in the first place.

But what I do wonder about is why it's OK, why it's literary even, to like Nicholas Sparks, and not romance novels? I worked in a Barnes & Noble bookstore while I was in grad school and also when I first got married and was job-hunting, and most of the booksellers were most vociferous regarding their disdain for romance novels. In fact, one of the assistant managers in the Boston B&N I worked in actually said to me that "Barnes & Noble caters to the literati--it's too bad we have to carry romance novels, too." (A romance novel apparently killed his brother....)

The manager of the second B&N store where I briefly worked held the same attitude toward romance novels, but she was absolutely over the MOON about Nicholas Sparks.

I read my first Nicholas Sparks novel, Dear John, recently for a book club I'm in. I was surprised to discover that there were only two main differences between the Sparks book and the average romance novel:

1) Dear John centers mainly on the hero and his character growth and development, where a romance novel will generally center mainly on the female, and her character growth and development.

2) Dear John had a tragic ending, while a romance will generally show a woman "having it all" at the end--the cool job, revenge on her enemies, and a fantabulous new boyfriend/fiancee/husband (who presumably picks up his smelly socks, occasionally cooks dinner, and scrubs out the bathroom he exclusively uses at least once per century, BEFORE things start to fungus *cough* Jose *cough*). In the case of a romantic suspense, which I write, the ending will also include the heroine being instrumental in bringing a vicious criminal to justice.

That's it. Oh, and that no editor is ever going to saddle Sparks with a title like Cowboy Cootchie Coo or the Runaway Bride's Secret Baby. Lucky him.

Interestingly, Sparks' prose didn't strike me as any more literary than that of many female romance writers. His characters didn't seem any more universal or developed than those in a romance novel. And sometimes, homeboy got downright sentimental, what with the characters saying stuff like (since I don't have the book with me, this is an approximation), "I still think of you whenever I look at the full moon."

But it's universally OK to like Nicholas Sparks's books because he is a MAY-aaaaaan, while fiction written by women about women has been put down as "sentimental" and "parochial" since some fat, pasty white men* got together and decided what books were considered part of the "literary canon." Today's romance novels are the whipping girl of the so-called literati, taking the modern-day place of works by Fanny Burney, Mary Wollstonecraft, Maria Edgeworth, the Brontes, ad nauseum, ad infinitum, ad way-too-many-marginalized-women-writers.

Now I'm not saying romance novels are all great literature--but neither are all sci-fi novels, all mysteries, or all mainstream fiction books. And not everyone has to like romance as a genre--we all have different tastes. But there's no doubt in my mind that there's a negative, kneejerk reaction ("Trash! Bodice rippers! Melodrama") toward romance that prevails in popular culture, and it's curious to me why a sentimental male writer could largely escape this reaction.

To me, Sparks satisfies the self-conscious reader's craving for a good read about human relationships and the push-pull dynamics of desire. It's socially acceptable to read Sparks. It's socially acceptable to love Moulin Rouge or Rear Window or Miss Congeniality or When Harry Met Sally, but it's not OK--or, at the very least, it's the literary equivalent of slumming--to read a romantic comedy or a romantic suspense or a romantic adventure or any kind of romance at all. But here's the kicker--Moulin Rouge (with Jose's alternate ending), Rear Window, Miss Congeniality, and When Harry Met Sally would all be shelved in the romance section if they were in book form. And so would Nicholas Sparks, minus the knife-edge difference of a tragic ending and a male name and photo to slap on the book jacket.

It's enough to make a girl change her name to George Sand.

* Actually, I am exaggerating here. I do not have firsthand knowledge of whether the arbiters of our modern literary canon were fat and/or pasty. But I would bet my last Hershey bar that they were most certainly white and male.

Waxing Rhapsodic

Being completely slammed with work and writing, along with playing with my daughters, I haven't had as much time to read as I used to. And I've found that I've become quite stingy with the time I do have. Unless I'm reading for a contest, if a book doesn't completely capture my attention and imagination within the first 100 pages, it gets drop-kicked into my Used Bookstore Bag--no exceptions. Sometimes, I don't even get past the first 50.

So I've been filling up the UBB faster than usual, and it's been awhile since I actually finished a book. I've been wandering around the piles of to-be-read books in my house with a jaded eye, regarding every possible selection I pick up with more than a little skepticism. Is THIS finally going to be the one that shakes me out of my literary ennui? Is THIS going to be worth the precious time I have to read something? Will it be fun? Will I believe the characters? Will I love this book, or will it not be worth coming three hours closer to death while slogging through the first half?

I'm happy to report that I finally found a book that's just so bloody marvelous, I can hardly stand it. I've been on an historical fiction kick lately, and the first book in a trilogy about Josephine Bonaparte satisfied it in spades. Sure, I'd learned about the love story between Josephine and her short, strange little emperor in school, and I well remember Armand Assante's Napoleon ardently declaring her "my obsession" in the long-ago TV miniseries based on their romance. But that's all she was--the object of a great man's affection.

Until I read The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Josephine B. by Sandra Gulland, that is. The clear-as-a-bell voice and the multi-faceted characters, the historical detail and accuracy were wonderful enough, but to discover that the real Josephine (Gulland's books are based as much as possible on historical fact) was amazingly courageous, a loving mother, a charming and resourceful person, and a feminist (in the best sense of the word) at heart--and not at all the empty-headed seductress of legend. She risked her life numerous times to repeatedly petition for the lives of her imprisoned friends and family members, when it would have been much safer to keep her head low--and ended up in prison and thisclose to losing her own head as a result. She was exceedingly generous, regularly giving her cloaks, coin purses, and bread away, even when she was nearly penniless herself. Her charisma and intelligence allowed her to make many friends in high places--without those qualities, no doubt she and her children would have ended up on the streets. She believed in a free France but still mourned the violence of the Terror and the treatment and deaths of the king and queen, particularly when she thought about Marie Antoinette as a mother.

The only thing I wish is that her teeth had been better. You have this character you love and admire, and then she starts talking about how her choppers are turning black and falling out--and that's just in the first book where she's in her early 30s. Not so attractive, Jo....

Seriously, she's been a magical discovery, and I'm so pleased to have two books left in Gulland's trilogy. Of course, I'm already mourning the fact that I will probably devour those in a week or two, and then it will all be over and I won't have another Gulland book to read until she publishes her next one, on a date still to be determined (no doubt because of the copious amount of research she puts into her work. On her website, she notes that she probably threw away at least a thousand pages when her research would turn up a new fact that changed elements of her story).

This is the kind of writer I want to be when I grow up--one who makes readers wax rhapsodic on their blogs about how much her book sucked them into its world. It's good to have a goal.

Although I can't even IMAGINE writing and throwing away a thousand pages without my head exploding. A hundred or two, maybe....

The Long, Dark Night of My Blog

It's been several weeks (OK, months) since I've last blogged, and even my SiteMeter is nagging me, in the form of weekly emails telling me my blog hits have gone down from a few hundred a week (most likely looking for miscellaneous X-rated shots of famous people I've mentioned) to zero.

Zero. Zeeeeeerrrrooo.

Although I have to give a shout-out to the lovely Jen McKenzie, who has been kind enough to not only visit the long, dark night of my blog, but virtually prod my lazy shoulder from time to time and ask why I've fallen off the planet. (Thanks, Jen!)

So what have I been up to? Nothing terribly exciting. Most of my hiatus was taken up by my head exploding after completing Telling Secrets, my December book (let no one say I'm not good at self-promotion), coupled with a major onslaught of work, and an exhausted start on my 2008 Intrigue (An Untitled Intrigue of Indeterminate Nature, Soon to be Determined Once I Hash Out the Synopsis).

Other than that, here's what I've been doing:

* Watching American Idol, of course. I swiftly came to the conclusion that this was the nicest bunch of contestants AI had ever seen, and I couldn't bring myself to snark at them anymore. Plus, with the quality of the performances vacillating more than the scale while I shift my weight on it trying to get the needle to stay on the smaller number, my voting choices vacillated right along with them. I'm no fun when I'm not being all opinionated. ("I don't care. What do you all think?" Squeak!)

That said, my girl Melinda was completely robbed by not making it to the final. A beatboxer? People, please. A Blake album would probably be about as fun as Max Headroom's short-lived TV show back in the 80s. Not that he isn't a very nice boy.

* Working out. Yes, I've finally dragged my pasty self to the gym, in an effort to stop my booty from pseudopodding around my office chair when I'm not looking. No one wants to be dragging an office chair around when she walks.

* Potty training Maggie. And let me just say that, for a few glorious weeks, we were DONE and had kicked the diapers to the curb. And then she backslid. But she's getting better ... again. But I suspect she might be wearing a nighttime diaper doubler at her senior prom if I don't figure out something fast.

* Attending RT. Which was fun and entertaining, as always. Oh! Oh! Creepy story: So I'm sitting at lunch with Caridad Pineiro and this year's Best Kimani Romance winner Shirley Hailstock, when lo and behold, a cover model plunks his zero-body-fat self across from us. Now I know some women like their cover models, but they scare me. Most of the time, they either cringe away from you because they've been pinched and Tailhooked by too many way too many Women Who Can't Contain Themselves, or they're flirting outrageously--and can I just say unconvincingly?--because they want to win the $10,000 Mr. Romance prize and they Need Your Support.

So anyway, said cover model sits down and, as Shirley and Caridad were otherwise occupied, started talking to me. So I made small talk with him, telling him about the model who graced the cover of my first romance--Isabela's Dreams--and sent me a very sweet email to let me know, as did his mother. (He went on to star as half of the Hillside Strangler in a TV film and probably has several more acting credits by now.) That led to my discovery that the cover model I met this year had a brief walk-on performance in one of my favorite shows, Ugly Betty. (I'm Latina--I think it's mandatory that we must all love this show. But I have to say, my love is genuine and uncoerced by my loyalty to la raza.)

I must've looked a little too impressed by this news, because, apparently feeling he was on a roll toward securing my Mr. Romance vote, he then whipped out a calendar and dropped it open with a flourish, revealing a giant color photo of himself in the centerfold--stark naked and cropped JUST at the point of no return. (You know, it's swimswuit season. I should've asked him for waxing tips....)

While a guy generally needs at least a few brain cells for my hormones to kick in, I, of course, don't MIND a nice-looking picture. But the LAST thing I want to do is ogle a nearly naked photo of some random dude while said dude is WATCHING me ogle him.

While my first reaction was to do my best impersonation of Bela Lugosi exposed to sunlight ("Blaaaarrrgggh! My retinas are burning! My retinas are burning!"), I did manage to remain calm, rewarding him only with a cool "Huh. OK, then."

I was saved from not-so-cool further embarrassment when a couple of women he knew zoomed in on either side and turned him into a Not Remotely In His League sandwich.

One, a size ten or twelve with a shirt cut down to South America, proceeded to do the Hippy-Hippy Shake in her seat, apparently aimed at affording the poor man a dizzying variety of perspectives on "the girls." (Here they are ... and there they go. Here they are ... and there they go.)

I spent much of the rest of the luncheon either stuffing my face (did that a lot, hence the whole gym thing), or talking to the other people not involved in this spectacle. But I did catch a few interesting snippets of their conversation, which seemed to be about how monogamy is overrated, and everyone should have a lover when they're married, like the Italians (allegedly) do, at least, according to the prow-of-a-ship sitting across from me.

While the aforementioned events were all highly amusing for an observant, people-watching writer, it also prompted me to come up with the following ...

Cover Models: 7 Rules for Engagement.

1) You are married. Contain yourself.

2) If you are married to a deployed soldier and acting like that, let me just introduce you to my novel new and free service, the Smack-O-Gram. God bless America.

3) If it would be considered sexual harassment if he were ugly, dumb, and doing it to you, then stop. For the love of humanity, stop.

4) Yeah, they're pretty. That's no reason to force all of your brain cells to abandon ship while you act like Marcia Brady the first time she talks to Doug Simpson, Big Man on Campus. My inner feminist is donning sackcloth and ashes just watching you.

5) If he's flirting with you and there's a $10,000 cash prize at stake, you are probably not the love of his life. I'm just saying.

6) If you do not work out in a gym for eight hours a day or at least LOOK like you work out in a gym eight hours a day, chances are you will not have much in common with a guy who has zero body fat, anyway. I'm sure there are exceptions to this rule (i.e. Robert Smith, former running back for the Minnesota Vikings, both worked out for eight hours a day and had a Ph.D. in physics), but seriously....

7) Rolling your eyes and pushing the bread and cake at lunch away while declaring that you don't eat bread or cake is idiotic when you are faaaaaaar from a size two. Your spontaneous attack of anorexia is not going to impress a man who works out eight hours a day. Just eat the bread and cake, and enjoy your curves.

That is all.

American Idol: Top 8 Women

TRACY: So, I don't have a lot of snark for the women, who were really great on Wednesday. What did you think, Troy?

TROY: The women were good--not as fantastic as they have been, but not totally cringeworthy. Try to scrounge up the snark within!

TRACY: I really like Jordin. She looks so comfortable on stage, and she has filled the happy little ping-pong ball void that AJ left behind. That said, I thought her rendition of "Heartbreaker" sounded like she was losing her breath, until the last note, which was so fab, I could barely stand it. I was stunned that she was in the bottom two last week and was happy to see her survive into the top 12. She deserves it.

TROY: Jordin slightly reminds me of America Ferrara, whom I really like. She just seems totally grateful to be there and has a rockin’ voice (except for the fact that I don’t think she should sing rock at all). “Heartbreaker” was just okay to me--nothing overly spectacular. However, I think she is definately one to watch out for. She has such a likability with talent to match.

TRACY: Exactly. My bitterness this week is reserved for Sabrina's untimely demise. That was sick and wrong, America. She has a great voice, she's pretty, and she chooses songs that aren't by Whitney, Celine, or Aretha--that alone had to count for something. But noooooooo. You had to kick her off. When Haley Scarnato is bleating some horrible Debby Boone ballad in the weeks to come, do not come crying to me. I'm just saying.

TROY: Agreed. I don’t get why America was hating on poor Sabrina. But did WE vote? No. We only have ourselves to blame!! Sorry Sabrina. You weren’t Tami Gosnell, but you had a great voice, attitude and look. Best of luck to you! You deserved better!

TRACY: "Put Your Records On" was a good song for Antonella, but her pitch was all over the place. And really, anyone who is dumb enough to let people take photos of her on the can (and allegedly make a naked calendar for her ex-boyfriend) just needs to go. I'm glad she went. (And a note to the producers: The demure top and the violin did not make the whole situation appear any less hootchie.)

TROY: The violin was so claaaaaassy! I totally respect Antonella now! Not.

I thought she had started out fine, but it just turned into a bleating mess. I almost feel bad for her (I said, ALMOST). She had a friend that sold her out and she just seems like a not-too-bright girl who was somehow tricked into beliving she could sing. It’s almost sad.

So...place your bets: which men’s magazine will Antonella pose for first? I say Maxim.

TRACY: Breaking news: I read that she turned down a lucrative offer from Girls Gone Wild. You have to respect her for that.

Haley. There are no words. Actually, there are five: Minnesota State Fair music tent.

TROY: I can do it in four: Random Lake Fireman’s Picnic.

TRACY: You win!

I can't BELIEVE she's in the Top 12. I actually feel sorry for her, despite her snarky little "I clock in; I clock out" comment on Wednesday. She's so out of her league, and she's only going to continue to get mean comments from the judges until some dork with a speed dial has the sense to stop the insanity and not vote for her anymore.

TROY: She’ll be gone faster than you can say Leah LaBelle. People just felt bad for her (or the votes were rigged). I honestly would rather have Antonella in the top 12, mainly for the trainwreck factor. Haley has no redeeming qualities--talent or trainwreckness. Apparently we’re missing out on something that other Americans have latched onto (and to those who have, please let go).

TRACY: Word.

Stephanie was great, if a little anonymous. I'm thinking since she and Sabrina both have amazing voices and quiet personalities, they may have split the vote between them.

TROY: Stephanie had the edge on Sabrina because she kneels when she sings. Kneeling = feeling the song. But I’ve always liked Stephanie. I just hope she doesn’t LaToya herself and can start showing more personality.

TRACY: Now you know I loves me some Lakisha, but American Idol needs to RETIRE "I Have Nothing." Sing the national anthem to it, hang its jersey on the wall, and look fondly upon it in perpetuity. But no matter how great your voice is (Lakisha!), that song is just getting old, people, and I'm tired. So very tired.

TROY: Idol needs to retire basically every Whitney Houston and Celine Dion song. It’s always meant to show their vocal range, but it usually does the opposite. Of course Lakisha sounded fine, but it was just boring! I’m actually waiting for Lakisha to do something more up-tempo and fun.

TRACY: OK, I loved Gina's look, and I loved how she rocked the stage. I'm glad to see her get her edge back. But singing Evanescence was a mistake--she doesn't have the chops. She totally gets the Tracy Busts a Vocal Cord Attempting Janis Joplin in the Shower award, because she was out of her league with that song. But she's starting to move in the right direction. You gotta wonder what she's going to do next week with Diana Ross, though....

TROY: Gina’s saving grace for next week is that HALEY is still in the competition and Gina has 100% more charisma in her pinky than Haley does in her entire body. Any Evanescence song is incredibly ambitious to sing because of Amy Lee’s range. Gina doesn’t have that range, so it became shouty and McKibbinish. It’s cool that she took on some more “edge” and honorable she did something contemporary and challenging. Totally intrigued to see what she pulls out this week.

TRACY: I totally heart Melinda--I think she's adorable, the whole "who, me?" thing (while it could get irritating later on) seems genuine, and her voice and her phrasing is AMAZING. She's so polished and professional, I can totally see her making it to the end. However, I wonder what kind of record she'd put out, since she keeps choosing older songs--can she bring it when it comes to contemporary music? We'll find out, but not this week, when the theme is Diana Ross....

TROY: I’m gonna get on a soap box and say that I actually hate the overuse of older songs on this show – 50s, 60s, and 70s. Mainly it is because that’s not the kind of music these contestants go on to record after this show. Fantasia’s “Hood Boi” sounds nothing like “Summertime.” Katharine McPhee’s “Over It” does not hold a candle to “Jailhouse Rock” or whatever she sang Elvis week. It’s fine to sing older songs, but you HAVE to throw in contemporary so we, the fans, don’t get bamboozled by you once you start recording your own music (Looking at you, Bo “The Real Trainwreck Thing” Bice)!

That said, Melinda is fantastic and I can’t wait to hear her sing something current.

TRACY: In the end, Antonella and Sabrina (*sob!*) got the boot for the women. I'm glad to see Antonella depart, if just to stop her EVIL ex-boyfriend from continuing to share his photo collection, but Sabrina's demise is an injustice of AJ Tabaldo proportions. I hope something good comes out of this for her.

TROY: If Lisa Tucker can get work, Sabrina should be able to find something. High School Musical 2, perhaps?

TRACY: As for the men, Jared and Sundance (and let the church say "Amen!") left the American Idol stage for good. I wholly agreed with Simon when he said Jared needed to work on his vocals and, I would add, stop vogue-ing into the camera. He did have a nice voice, but he was the right choice to go.

TROY: I don’t know why, but I actually think I liked Jared a bit better than Sanjaya, Chris Sligh and the Creepy Lightbulb. While slightly creepy himself, I felt Jared had some charisma that the others were missing. He does need training however. Maybe after another year he would have been a contender!

TRACY: Under normal circumstances, I would have said it's a shame that Sundance couldn't have stayed one more week instead of Sanjaya, but I think the Friends of Eddie Vedder and all aficionados of 90s alternative rock were obligated to deliver Mr. Head the smackdown after that aural abomination. The rule of the day is, unless you've got the voice of God when He spoke to Moses, you simply do not touch Pearl Jam.

TROY: Amen (even though I don’t worship Pearl Jam)!

TRACY: I loved that clip in the results show when Sundance told the camera something along the lines of "I don't think Simon had ever heard the song. That's how it's supposed to be sung." Yeah, if you're a singing GOAT being periodically electro-shocked, maybe.

TROY: In an interview with Entertainment Weekly, Sundance again said that Simon didn’t understand the song and that he sang just as Eddie Vedder would have. Bitch, please.

TRACY: Excuse me. I have to go projectile vomit now.

All of that said, I do wish we could have seen him return to "Stormy Monday" form.

And by the way, who is voting for Sanjaya, anyway? The National Coalition for the Tone Deaf? He seems like a nice boy, but DUUUUUUUUUUUUUDE.

TROY: The Hula appreciation fan base?

American Idol: Top 8 Guys

Troy and I took a break from blogging AI last week, because we had to recover from the shock of seeing AJ Tabaldo receive a COMPLETELY undeserved boot. We're back now, but we're still bitter.

TROY: Incredibly. Come back, dorky Leslie Hunt! Your atrocious scatting is missed!

TRACY: I LOVED AJ last week. He was like a happy little ping-pong ball, bouncing around the stage. And I thought his singing was TOTALLY fabulous. I hope something good comes out of his too-short exposure on national television, because he SO didn't deserve to go, sweet boy. As for who did deserve it ... Sanjaya and Phil "the Creepy Egg" Stacey, I'm staring at you.

TROY: Or Chris Sligh! Anyway, AJ totally got the shaft this week for all the reasons you've said.

TRACY: Although, speaking of good ol' Phil, I had thought he auditioned in the same city where he and his wife lived. He did not, so he couldn't have rushed home to be with her while she gave birth, and he probably didn't haul cameras into her recovery room. So ... I am chagrined. Phil Stacey deserves a little more love from me than he's gotten thus far.

TROY: No he doesn’t. He’s like the Taylor Hicks of this competition, but creepier and balder.

TRACY: And revisiting our aforementioned bitterness over AJ's untimely demise on the show, I am also saddened by the loss of my Boston meathead, Nick Pedro. While perhaps Simon was right about Nick being a little too laid back on stage, I would have loved to have seen him crack the top 12. He, at least, had an interesting and unusual voice. One that didn't make me want to projectile vomit at my TV or accidentally lapse into a coma.

TROY: And Nick, formerly known as “Quitter,” actually made me like him last week, so I was slightly devastated. I thought his voice was cool and unique, as opposed to whatever is coming out of Sanjaya’s mouth. Sorry Nick! I should have been on Team Nick from the beginning.

TRACY: Yet another reason why you should always listen to your sister. Anyway, on to last night's show.

To quote Gideon, that odd duck from last season who was, I believe, the first of the top 12 to get the boot, "You have to HAVE it. You HAVE to have it. You have to have IT."

These boys ain't GOT it. These BOYS ain't got it. These boys ain't got IT. At least most of them don't.

TROY: For the love of Tami Gosnell, these boys ain’t even got half of IT. None of the guys blow me away, but I think they could. There’s just a lot of bad song choice going on and a seemingly lack of enthusiasm.

TRACY: Blake was pretty good! I'm waiting for him to knock my socks off, though, and I'm guessing that he will at some point, but it wasn't last night, sadly. He's a shoo-in for the top 12, so I am not worrying on his account. Although this is two weeks in a row that he's beat-boxed. PLEASE don't let him be taking Randy's advice, because that schtick is gonna get old fast.

TROY: I was ALREADY sick of the beat boxing this week. Blake was my favorite guy for awhile, but I think he’s growing a Daughtry-sized ego pretty quickly. Chalk it up to the Unholy Allegiance of Chris Sligh, but I think Blake will need a slice of humble pie very quickly.

TRACY: Sanjaya was better, but better in this case doesn't necessarily mean I was off my head about the performance. And the hair. Oh, the hair....

TROY: :::shudder:::

TRACY: And the hula-ing! I mean, I'm all about being yourself, but that floaty little hula was atrocious. He looked like an acid-tripping Deadhead grooving out to "Sugar Magnolia." Appropriate for a Dead concert. Really odd for national TV.

TROY: I’m just finding Sanjaya to be super creepy. Neck and neck with the creepy lightbulb, in fact. Why are people voting for him? He has half the voice of CHICKEN LITTLE and zero of the personality. Plus, he’s totally on his way to becoming a Freddy, Jason, or Leatherface the way he continues to massacre a new song each week.

TRACY: I'd give that title to someone else altogether. For the sacrilege of butchering a much beloved Pearl Jam classic, Sundance Head deserves to be booted from the show right this second and followed around in perpetuity by a cattle-prod-wielding Cartman from South Park, who will proceed to zap him every time he even THINKS about warbling 90s alternative rock, even if it's in the shower. That was ... that was ... words cannot describe how awful, how past-their-prime bar band, how dear-God-my-ears-are-bleeding NASTY that rendition was. The boy needs to go, America. I mean it.

Sundance, I heard Eddie Vedder sing that song live in Seattle. I adore Eddie Vedder; Eddie Vedder's vocal cords are an American treasure. You, sir, are no Eddie Vedder.

TROY: Sundance isn’t even a Scott Stapp. ::::shudder:::

Seacrest SAID Sundance was singing a Pearl Jam song, but I didn’t even know what the heck it was until he sang the word “Jeremy.” What a frickin’ trainwreck! And what were the judges smoking for them to tell him it was great? Simply, it was a debacle of epic proportions. And I don’t even like Pearl Jam the way you do!

TRACY: I know! And can you imagine how our other brother Tom, card-carrying member of the Pearl Jam fan club, felt? I bet he's lying in a dark room somewhere with a cold cloth over his head.

Chris was better than I'd ever seen him. He has that generic boy band sound, but using it on a Keith Urban sound was genius. And sitting quietly on a stool and not doing the head-bopping Tequila shuffle? Even more genius. I'm not off my head yet, but this was good!

Oh, and Troy, what did you think about his re-dedicating a song to his grandma that was not about a sexual act. Good save, or icky reminder of something best left forgotten?

TROY: I don’t think anyone will be able to forget that debacle anytime soon. I just refuse to believe he doesn’t know what “Geek in the Pink” is about.

Chris is a’ight. He’s always slightly “pitchy,” but brings it more that a few of the other contestants (more on that soon). I’m not enthralled, but not annoyed either. Either be amazing or suck hard, Chris.

TRACY: Jared was weird. Weird facial expressions, weird shouting, weird song choice. I think someone is trying too hard to "love the laaaaaadieeessss," and it's NOT working. Dude, you're cute. We get it. Now get over yourself and sing, bitch.

TROY: Amen! At least he didn’t “sexily” rub his face this week. I want to like Jared, but he’s making it pretty impossible. I want him to pick fun songs, but he insists on picking and dedicating “Let’s Get It On” for his mother, while doing weird falsettos. He honestly wants to do better and, if he makes it to the top 12, I hope he’ll take the judges’ advice.

TRACY: Brandon started out fun and funky, but then we all started to realize that the melody did not budge from the first few notes, and somewhere in there, I fell asleep. This guy needs a lesson in song choice, fast. He's got the pipes and the easy stage presence to pull of something really grand, but he keeps putting us on the last train to Dullsville.

TROY: Brandon: the cure for insomnia

Brandon has a good voice, but he refuses to interpret. Instead, he sings JUST the notes on paper with a wide smile plastered across his face.

TRACY: Phil. (Must. Refrain. From. Creepy. Egg. Comments.) I know I said I should give Phil some more love, but I did not love this song. It was all over the place, and it didn't showcase what he can do. Last week was better, but the word of the day, people, was "untrained."

TROY: Just call him a creepy lightbulb instead! Anyway, creepy lightbulb sang a LEANN RIMES SONG. That’s just wrong. Plus, he totally reminds me of when Joey tried to look like a twenty-year-old on Friends. “Wack, yo.” When he’s standing in line with the other guys, it totally becomes a game of “One of these things is not like the other.”

I don’t know how much longer this lightbulb has left to shine ::bada-bing!::

TRACY: :::groan:::

Chris S. was a'ight, but I wasn't off my head about the song. He THINKS he's choosing great songs, but he's not. He needs something fun, with more range (because he's got one). And how awkward was it when he apologized for not bringing it? Don't apologize, you sad sack! OWN your awful song! OWN it!

TROY: Well, we know how much I love the Sligh. I just cannot muster up any kind of enthusiasm for him. He just has no endearing aspects and the talent isn’t phenomenal. Plus, once you talk back to the judges, you’re kinda dead to me.

I think this is just a detour on his quest for courage anyway. Follow the yellow brick road, Chris, and stay the heck off my TV set.

Finding His Child on eHarlequin

I just discovered that my April 2007 Intrigue, Finding His Child, is now available on early release exclusively at eHarlequin.com. (It will be available on Amazon, BN.com, and at your local Intrigue-carrying bookstore around April 10th.) This is Sabrina's story from my Mission: Family series, but I created it as a spin-off, so it stands completely on its own--i.e., if you haven't read the Mission series, you won't miss anything.

The book got 4 stars from RT BookReviews (I'll let you know if I get off my booty and send it anywhere else for review) which said, "Finding His Child is a first-rate mystery laden with chilling psychological suspense and the anguish of a parent's worst nightmare.

If you're now dying to know what worst nightmare, here's the blurb from the back cover:

He would do whatever it took to find his daughter.

It had been six long months since his beautiful daughter had disappeared. When another girl was kidnapped in the Washington State woods, Detective Aaron Donovan was convinced that the two crimes were related. After joining the search-and-rescue team, Aaron was forced to work with top-notch tracker Sabrina Adelante … and try to ignore the attraction they’d shared before his world was shattered. Offering up his military sniper skills, Aaron helped the group uncover some helpful clues. But then Sabrina nearly became a madman’s next victim, and Aaron wondered how he could possibly get close to another woman he cared about when he just might lose her.

Then again, how could he afford not to?

Tracy Montoya en francais!

So basically, international translations of my books equals lots of dorky fun for me. And a few more royalties. And so I'm happy to announce that Harlequin France has published another one of my books. I think it's House of Secrets--they titled it "The Price of the Truth," and I haven't yet received my copy to muddle through with my poor French and see which one it is for sure.

Previously, Harlequin France had published Maximum Security, my 2004 Intrigue, and I confess, I was a little bummed that they chose not to publish anything from the Mission: Family series. But apparently they did in Oct. 2006! Yay! I can like France again! (Kidding. I'm only kidding.)

Also out from the Mission series is House of Secrets from an unknown Scandinavian country (HUS! Leyanndorrona, or something like that. I'm not near my shelves.), and an Icelandic version of Next of Kin. I think all three made it down under to Australia and New Zealand.

Anyhoo, the cover is, of course, above. The house is a lot junkier looking than it is in the book, but it DOES look scary, does it not? And Emma is not ugly, so I am pleased.