"We're always in the
midst of a chase.

Going after a dream...

Chasing a fantasy...

And making it a
reality.

This is what I write
about.

Life is about the chase."

~ Rachelle

Minutia

Bored Woman with MenFor whatever reason, I frequently have bizarre dating experiences, interspersed with the occasional nice ones.

Oh my God. You should blog about this!” exclaimed Calista Fox, right after the guy at the bar told me he needed to clean my aura and handed me his business card. A quick glance showed he was a Demon Cleanser.

Oh my God! You should blog about this!” wrote Calista Fox, right after we had a pleasant, nonsexual , smalltalk-filled conversation with a guy at RT – after which, I got an email, stating, “The best part of the chase is the scent of passion and the taste of the passionate. Chasing you would certainly be yummy!”

Oh my God! You should blog about this!” wrote Calista Fox, right after I told her about the guy I’d met at a Ten Minute Dating event, only to discover later, he was also dating the friend I attended the event with.

 

So … maybe I should blog weekly about this – about my dating experiences…

  • On a Monday, I’ll post a date and you can tell me whether or not you think it really happened.
  • Then, on the following Monday, I’ll give you the correct answer and announce the prize winners (those of you who guessed correctly will be eligible for a prize).

So, that’s two chances to win every month – unless I run out of dating stories, which is highly unlikely!

(And, BTW – names and details will be changed to protect the innocent – or the guilty.)

But, before I expose my dating joys and humiliations, I want to know – are you even interested in this? Will you stop by and cast your vote? Do you like my idea for the contest – or do you have a better idea?

So I was cranking away on my work in progress, when I got stuck. You see, Bobbie, my heroine, was trailing behind a guy she doesn’t know is the hero (yet). And as she’s walking along, fantasizing about the untold joys that she hopes will unfold shortly in his hotel room, she’s staring admiringly at his butt. And she thinks to herself, this guy’s ass reminds of … of … of …

This is where I got stuck. I drew a complete blank on a male celebrity who has a nice ass. So, I had to stop and do some “research.”

Butt Photo This “research” led me to a butt quiz, which totally snapped me out of the mood as I was forced to gaze upon some awful-looking butts. Then I found a survey soliciting votes for/against butts – but with no photos. (Am I the only one who doesn’t have an image of every celebrity’s ass engraved in my brain?!)

And, somehow, this search led me to … furniture. Which completely removed all thoughts of ass cheeks and writing from my mind, since I desperately need living room furniture.

So, let’s forget about butts. And let’s talk about lips.

What do you think of this ensemble for my living room? Cheesy? Or the perfect statement for an erotic romance author?

Bocca Lip Sofa Photo

Bleeding Heart PhotoI’ve been thinking a lot about rejection lately. And, for once, it has nothing to do with agent or editor rejection letters. No, this one’s personal. It’s about dating.

Here’s the short version:

So, I recently met this guy that I really liked. And he was doing all the right things – which made me suspicious. Which, then made me guarded and finally culminated in a black moment worthy of my current work-in-progress, aptly titled RUNNING AWAY.

Now, since I write romance, you’re probably thinking that, like Sharice in SIN CLUB, I realized the error of my ways and did exactly the right thing, which lead to a happily-ever-after, right?

Uh … Um …

Well, I did realize the error of my ways, but … perhaps the text message, followed by the email message, both of which sounded more like Dear John memos than the sorry-and-hey-I-really-like-you notes they were meant to be … well, perhaps, that was not the right thing to say or do. Or, perhaps he didn’t care and was a guy straight out of Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo’s, HE’S JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

But, regardless, this does have a happily-ever-after-ending. Because I realized that I need to work on this fear of rejection thing. I mean, I’ve got it down in my business and writing life, but not in my personal life.

So, in 2009, that’s going to be one of my New Year’s Resolutions. And, I came up with one way to work on this. It’s featured in Bonnie Albo’s article, Top New Year’s Resolutions for Singles at About.com. I hope you’ll check it out.

So, tell me … do you have any rejection issues, personal or business? Or, perhaps you’d just like to share one of your resolutions? I’d love to know.

Happy New Year!

Leigh and Rachelle at American Gothic HouseYep, that’s right. It’s time for my annual trip to Ottumwa, IA to visit Leigh Michaels. We’ll be working on a new, exciting project, plus putting the finishing touches on the “Chase the Dream” Contest for writers.

(The picture to the left is of us posing in front of the house Grant Wood used in his famous painting, American Gothic, in Eldon, IA).

Here are some fun highlights from last year’s trip…

After lunching at Highway Restaurant in Albia, IA, we discovered the parking lot full of tractors. We met a friendly group of guys on a tractor ride — same thing as guys going out on a motorcyle ride, except s-l-o-w-e-r.

Tractor Lineup in Albia
Tractor Lineup in Albia

Oh, darn. Just discovered I missed this year’s square-dancing tractor performance.

My mouth dropped open when I saw the sign below. $5.00? Know how many $45 parking tickets I’ve gotten in San Francisco?! Made me want to get one just to see if they were telling the truth.

Parking Sign in Burlington, IA
Parking Sign in Burlington, IA

And, being an erotic romance writer, I had a good chuckle at this one:

Kum N Go Station in Ottumwa, IA
Kum N Go Station in Ottumwa, IA

OMG, I just noticed those gas prices. Now, that’s enough to make me weep!

Well, off to get stuff done before my flight. Stay tuned for exciting photos from this year’s trip. :-)

Five years ago, I was rushing out the door at my dad’s house when he stopped me.

“Rachelle, there’s something I need to tell you. Do you have a minute?” His somber look and serious tone sent my heart racing – and my mind scrambling to identify the latest family crisis.

“Sure,” I said with a tremor in my voice.

He shook his head sadly. “It’s a shame the way you look when you leave the house.”

I struggled to wipe the images of cancer-ridden loved-ones from my mind. “Huh?”

“You’re an attractive woman. You should be a clothes-horse, but instead…”

As he went on, I looked down at myself, as if for the first time. Some sort of wrinkled pea green waterproof hikingEnsemble at Dad’s pants, covered with pockets and zippers, hung from my hips like jeans worn by boys and rappers. The resemblance was unintentional, as they were men’s pants – about three sizes too big. Equally big and shapeless, was a long-sleeve, royal blue t-shirt that reached my thighs.

I put a hand to my head, readjusting the black Nike baseball cap that I’d removed from my dad’s Goodwill stack. Excluding my bangs, it completely covered my hair. Throw in the three year old glasses, the total lack of make-up, and …

He was right. I looked awful. My parents had taught my siblings and me to always leave the house looking our best, but I’d been the only one to consistently fail this lesson.

“Here, Rachelle.”

His voice, now laden with sympathy, jerked my attention to him – and the money in his outstretched hand. Heat burned my face. Humiliation flickered through my body.

Though I didn’t accept my dad’s gift, I did follow his advice. I consulted an image consultant, who showed me the basics of make-up, the colors that looked good on me, and the clothing cuts appropriate for my body. While I’d never been a fashion disaster (when I made the effort to look good, that is), I was delighted with the improvement in my appearance.

Gray JacketUntil yesterday.

As I stood in the center of Chronicle Books, flipping through Brenda Kinsel’s Fashion Makeover: 30 Days to Diva Style!, my attention once again turned to what I was wearing: Sketchers tennis shoes; big-legged black “dressy” sweat pants; tan zippered sweater from four seasons ago; a man’s XL charcoal jacket (a castoff of my bother’s); two year old glasses…

I picked up Ms. Kinsel’s book and rushed to the register. This time, I’m going to address the problem before my dad notices my relapse. And who knows? I might just share my results with you, too.


 

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