So, during the same photo shoot that the uber-talented Scott Marrs took the shot of me draped in the sheet that you see on my site, we played around with some creative shots.

One that we tried was a “high-fashion” shot.

“Okay,” said Scott, “Give me a dead stare.” That is, a look that’s completely devoid of expression.

Apparently, it’s a look that fashion models must perfect.

And, just as apparent, it’s a look that I suck at. So, hundreds of shots later, we gave up.

“Okay. Now, think of something sad,” said Scott.

I stared off into the distance, my gaze barely noticing the netting that dipped over my eyes or the smoke spiraling up from the cigarette lightly clasped between my fingers.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he said softly, amid the whir of the camera shutter.

“That’s what?” I asked, after he’d signaled he was done.

“This is the look I was trying to get from you before.” And, as we flipped through the photos in his camera, I realized that I’d accidentally given him the expressionless look:

1. The Dead Stare

2. The Noir Shot

Now, I know what I was thinking in these shots. But, what do the photos say to you? Pretend that the woman is not me. Instead, she’s a character in a book you’re reading. Tell me something about her.

For example, what’s just happened to her? What is she thinking? What is she feeling? Write whatever comes to mind. Create a story or give me some dialogue, or just jot down a thought that says it all. It might take you a single sentence – or several paragraphs.

PLEASE NOTE: This contest is open to any and all. You don’t have to be a writer. Perfect prose is not required.

So, please take a moment to share your thoughts - and, hopefully, you’ll win!

“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 hiking 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.

Until 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.

I’m a whiz at doing these things if I’m not attracted to a guy.

Well, today, I resolved to change that.

The sun was shining. People filled the sidewalks. Conversation and laughter wafted through the air. Spring had sprung and I was feeling happy and confident, bordering on cocky. Until I saw H.I.M, standing outside one of my favorite coffee shops.

His dark brown hair, a tad too long, was combed back from his face. A neat mustache and goatee, sprinkled with a strand or two of gray, framed his sexy lips. The tip of a triangular tattoo traveled up his neck, ending near his jaw. His tall, toned body, encased in drab brown, transformed his Muni bus driver uniform into designer clothing.

He looked like no San Francisco transportation worker I’d ever seen. His bad boy image was totally at odds with his profession. And, for the first time I can remember, I experienced that “raw energy” emanating from a man that I thought only existed between the pages of the books I write.

Feeling shell shocked, I totally forgot to invoke I Am Approachable Rule #1: Smile.

As his friend held the door open for me, I thanked him, and went inside. I dropped my backpack at an available table and then joined them in line. All the while, my heart raced and my mind scrambled to come up with a witty I Am Approachable line.

Mr. Sexy ordered his coffee drink, his deep voice sending heat to my stomach.

I remained silent, dumbstruck.

When the owner handed him a paper cup overflowing with foam, he politely asked her to scoop it all off. “I’ll get it in my moustache,” he added.

My tongue became unstuck. Remembering I Am Approachable Rule #2: Say Something, I said with a chuckle, “Then you can do one of those milk commercials.” (Okay, so it was a weak opening line. But you gotta give me points for hormonal distress!)

He returned my chuckle without turning around, giving me a side glimpse of dazzling white teeth.

And then he was gone.

The conversation behind the counter invaded my hormone-induced coma.

“I would do anything to be on his bus,” said one.

“He can take me anywhere,” said another.

Feigning nonchalance, I asked, “Do you know him?”

“He’s filming Mission Street Rhapsody nearby. That’s Benjamin Bratt.”

I frowned. “Who’s Benjamin Bratt?”

At their incredulous looks, I took my latte and slunk to my table. Booting up my laptop, I Googled ‘Benjamin Bratt’ and then clicked on the link: http://www.askmen.com/men/apr00/20_benjamin_bratt.html.

My mouth dropped open.

That was Benjamin Bratt? Sandra Bullock’s love interest in Miss Congeniality? Julia Roberts (ex?)boyfriend? But, most importantly, he was the guy I had lusted after in Love in the Time of Cholera last November?

A sense of pride buzzed through me. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t noticed me. And I probably wouldn’t have said a thing, had I known who he was. But I’d inadvertently practiced my New Year’s Resolution on the Benjamin Bratt.

Confidence and cockiness returned to my chest. Mr. Bratt today. Who would be tomorrow?

Afterwards, I had lunch with Lorelle and discovered that, not only is she an expert on blogging, she’s also a wonderful, dynamic, and generous person. And, she gave me three copies of her book - Blogging Tips: What Bloggers Won’t Tell You About Blogging - to give away.

Please leave a comment here and tell me what you like or dislike to read about in blogs – and you’ll automatically be entered in a drawing for a free copy.

The second annual SOBCon08 is “the Biz School for Bloggers.” For three days in May, guest speakers will discuss the nuts and bolts of successful blogging. And I really want to go! So…

To help me help you, all I need is for you to click HERE by 3/15/08 to visit the SOBCon site.

Thank you in advance for your help! And, perhaps I’ve piqued your interest in attending the conference…?

Play Date is a fun, fast-paced game show in which guys show off their dating skills and women guest judges help teach guys what they’re doing right and wrong in the dating world.

As a Valentine’s Day gift, Tara has GUARANTEED any woman who wants to be on a future show a spot. So here’s your chance to share your dating expertise, promote your product or service –or simply have fun! Offer ends 2/13/08.

Oh, did I mention that Play Date has nearly **4 MILLION** listeners, which includes men and women?!

So, check out the show, which airs Monday-Friday on Sirius Channel 198, 2:00-4:00 p.m. PT.

I’ll be a guest on Tara’s show for the second time on 2/13/08, 2:00-3:00 p.m. PT, discussing my latest books, SIN CLUB and DREAMS & DESIRES 2. I blogged about my first experience here: My Playboy Radio Play Date Debut.

Hope to chat with you on PlayDate, “Chatting with Chase,” or both!

Best,
Rachelle

But, that’s another story.

So back to this story.

After stuffing ourselves on Mine’s delicious lamb medallions, rice, and potato-eggplant medley, followed by applesauce spice cupcakes topped with a cream cheese frosting, we joined the entire population of San Francisco at the movie theatre. Saeeda opted for a bit of thought-provoking enlightenment and joined another friend for the opening of The Great Debaters while Mine and I chose pure escapism.

So, off we waddled to see I Am Legend.

And there, I got a huge surprise.

No, not because I rode the wave of road-rage feelings with other movie goers, shushing and cursing (though I did not curse) the rude, rowdy teenagers giggling with their ringing cell phones.

Instead, I was surprised to discover I loved this movie. Because it was scary.

And, by scary, I don’t mean that disturbing, slash-and-dismember-with-as-much-blood-as-possible gore that Hollywood likes to pass off as scary. Instead, it was that sitting-on-the-edge-of-your-seat scary feeling that I got as a kid when I saw Psycho – and, for you young ‘uns out there, I’m talking about the 1960s version, not the one from 1998.

The fact that the dark dwellers came out at night – which means the hero, Robert Neville, played by Will Smith, and his faithful dog had to be barricaded inside by then – was a perfect opportunity for the movie to devolve into the 1990s remake of Night of the Living Dead - the movie I walked out of - with scene after scene of zombie-like creatures chasing him.

But, it didn’t.

In addition to its scariness, I loved the way the movie caught Neville’s…aloneness. In fact, a large portion of the film captures this. While Neville’s alone, there are humorous moments, touching moments, and nightmarish moments. Though there were predictable moments in the second half of the film, I was willing to overlook them due to Will Smith’s acting and the fact that I was already hooked.

So, if you want to be scared, I heartily recommend this movie.

Did anyone else see this movie? Am I alone - or is there anyone else out here that liked it?

True, these accessories are sexy to men. But want to know what the #1 accessory is?

A book.

Yeah, I hear your skepticism. And, until yesterday, I would have been skeptical, too.

But, in yet another procrastination maneuver designed to avoid writing, I decided I needed to take a l-o-n-g walk. In the rain. So, bundled up in a shapeless sweater my grandmother probably wouldn’t wear and a scarf looped around my neck so many times that I could barely turn my head, I grabbed my eye glasses, a book, and my umbrella.

And off I went, umbrella up, FOREVER ODD in my hands, reading as I walked the streets of San Francisco.

“That must be a good book,” came a deep voice in front of me.

I looked up into the smiling face of a man walking his Pomeranian or some such faux dog. I smiled. “Yes, Dean Koontz is always a good read.”

He smiled, we made arcane small talk, and I went back to reading as I entered the crosswalk.

“Hi,” came another male voice.

I looked up. “Hi,” I said to the good-looking Latino man in front of me.

He smiled. I smiled. And, after spotting the wedding ring on his left hand, I went back to reading and walking.

“Hey,” said another guy.

I looked up and my heart did that stutter thing that I write about in books as I looked at the bad boy with the dazzling smile, wearing the hard hat. Dammnnn.

“Hi. Looks good,” I said motioning to the wall he was building, proud of the confidence in my voice, as if I knew a good wall from a bad wall.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And you look good, too.” I said, smiling.

Surprise flitted across his face and his smile widened.

Surprise flitted through my body – I was surprised because I can rarely flirt without the help of a Long Island Ice Tea. Or two. Sometimes, it takes three.

Despite the lack of a wedding ring on his finger and the tingly thing his smile was doing to my insides, I walked away. Twenty-three years old was too young, even in this Decade of the Cougar.

But, this time, as I walked along, that tingly feeling was preventing total concentration on Koontz’s tale of a man who saw the dead.

“Wow. How do you do that?”

I looked up at the guy leaning against a wall, taking a cigarette break. “Do what?” Lust after twenty-something year olds?

He motioned to the book. “Walk and read. Don’t you stumble?”

Oh. That. “Well, occasionally I stumble. Once I walked into a street sign.”

I described the lump on my head from the metal pole, then the conversation went deep, as my stumbling became metaphoric for stumbles in life.

I won’t bore you with the remaining encounters. The point to all this is: When I’ve walked the streets in this same attire, book-less, rarely has anyone said a word to me or spared me much of a second glance. But, book in hand, suddenly half the guys I pass want to chat.

So. I’m convinced that men find books on a woman sexy. And I’m convinced that books are the new guy magnet. Imagine the possibilities of combining a book with that little black dress I wrote about months ago. Mind boggling, isn’t it?

Anyone want to borrow FOREVER ODD ?

Since she’s such a terrific person, I wanted to introduce her to you, too!

Rachelle: How did you come up with the name “Monkapaws” and what does it mean?

Renee: I have a giant Bernese Mountain dog and his name is Guinness. But I call him “Monkapaws.” Many pet owners may relate – to the numerous pet names that one can develop out of the tender devotion for our furry babies. The name developed because Guinness is just that in every sense – he’s a crazy monkey and always bouncing around on his back paws – if one can picture that image. He also has enormous giant white paws. So, somehow, the name “Monkapaws” stuck and he is referred to it by many.

Hearing it in a business context makes my husband and I laugh to this day. It is hard not to- knowing most clients don’t realize that “Monkapaws” is in reference to our enormous bouncing monkey with giant white paws.

Rachelle: What made you decide to start the business? How long have you been in business?

Renee: I developed Monkapaws about two years ago when I was tinkering around with old typewriters. My first piece of jewelry was a pendant for myself. Many people loved it and I made many as gifts. My unique designs made it very special and then I decided to try and sell them. I started out very small, hitting local shops and telling anyone that would lend an ear about it. My designs then became increasingly popular and I eventually ended up selling my pieces to the public at art and wine festivals in the Bay Area and also at Santana Row in San Jose. I have a loyal following of customers that love the pieces almost as much as I do. So it is very rewarding in all aspects.

Rachelle: I’m now one of your loyal customers - your jewelry is beautiful. How do you come up with the ideas for your pieces?

Renee: I guess it is just one of those things, like thinking out of the box. I think I have taken the typewriter keys to the next level and really enhance their beauty through my work. It is almost as if they are individual antiques and deserve a special place to exhibit their real beauty. That is where I feel my art comes in. Most of my work is a direct reflection of the beauty that I love and want to express in them. But the real beauty lies mostly on the simplicity of the typewriter key itself. I am just the ‘middle man.’

Rachelle: What do you like most about making a piece of jewelry? Is there anything you like making more than others? (i.e., necklaces vs. bracelets, etc.)

Renee: I looovveee making the altered art collage pendant pieces. That is my true passion, where my expression has no boundaries or limits. I guess it allows me to unleash my inhibitions and express the humor I see in life that can be expressed in my work. I also do not create anything that I personally would not wear – so I guess that lets me keep it real.

Rachelle: How would you describe your work? In other words, what makes a Renee Berglund piece unique?

Renee: I think I have taken the vintage typewriter key to the next level, the life ever after. To me, it is like wearing a piece of history and I just add embellishments to enhance the story/detail.

Rachelle: When you’re not creating gorgeous pieces of art, what do you like to do?

Renee: I love riding my horse. And when I am not doing that, I love hitting garage sales and flea markets, looking for that discarded item that I may incorporate into my work. I love yoga. I am also a labor activist and am involved in several aspects of the American labor movement that directly affects our community and our essence of the “American Dream.” And I love to immerse myself in my collection of historical fiction in the wee hours.

But if I had to state my favorite, it would be hanging out with my husband and my Monkapaws. That is the best! My steadfast relationships with them both have given me confidence and encouragement. Without them, it would have been impossible to have come this far. And without them, Monkapaws would probably not exist. So, thank you, Tobbe and Monkapaws.

Rachelle: And thank you, Renee, for sharing a bit about yourself and your work!