Kate Devlin's Blog

Due to several dozen reasons, I’m not sleeping much, which gives me a good deal of time to fill at night. Searching through Netflix I found White Collar, and wowza! It’s amazing. The acting is tight, the plots are intelligent, and there are codes, cons, excellent art and fantastic scenery.

By nature it’s a male dominated show, which I can’t complain about. And they dress well. Easy on the eye men in suites. Sign me right up. Nice, nice scenery, like I said.

The best part has to be the fascinating relationship between Neil (Matt Bower) and Peter (Tim DeKay). They can’t ever trust each other completely, but they have great respect for one another.

The other treat is watching Tiffani Thiessen in a mature role. Yes, yes, I watched every episode of 90210 all those years ago. Loved it. Melrose place was the same way. Can you say addict? But she is wonderful as Elizabeth.

I didn’t intend to do more than mention White Collar as a prelude to my wild dreams last night, but since this has been more of a glowing review, I’ll add the small list of things that bother me about the show.

First, Neal was accepted too quickly and easily into the FBI office. Yep, that was almost a show stopper. I needed a little more Neal hating to find it believable. On the other hand, Neal meeting the woman at the used clothing store, admiring the Devore and moving into her guest room, that I can see as happening.

My other big complaint is things do not always go as planned in real life. I realize that with television, they have an hour and little time for mishaps if I’m going to get any sort of resolution at the end, so I deal.

Last of all, finding this show when I did was serendipitous because guess what? It’s on now! I only missed two episodes of the fourth season. I’m not one of those people who has to see things in any certain order, so I’m happy watching them all scrambled up.

As a rule, I’m not a huge TV watcher. From my blog, you wouldn’t know that, but it’s true. The iPad has changed that to a certain degree.

So, what are your favorite shows?

The post White Collar and Insomnia appeared first on Kate Devlin Romance Author.

So, yesterday I was tweeting, playing on Gather, had FB open as well, and all of a sudden I was seeing the blue screen of death.

NO NO NO!!!!! What’s wrong with you?

I brought it back up in safe mode and yes, there had been an event. Ran a virus scan. Nada.

So, I rebooted.

This time, my computer started talking. News stations, some music, TV shows, eight or nine different voices with grunge rock playing underneath.

No, no, NOOOO, what the hell is going on???

After another half hour of cursing, I gave up all hopes of fixing whatever had happened and turned to the nifty little device my husband bought me in January. (When something very similar to this happened, that we won’t talk about.)

With my little backup drive, I was able to wipe the C drive and return it to whatever state it inhabited July 1st of this year. Now I’m wondering if my computer feels cheated it won’t get fireworks in two more days. Or if it misses the awesome new background I’d found on some random sight that’s forever gone. Or if it’s still possessed, and waiting for the right moment to start spouting all those voices again.

Hubby had been telling me for years I needed something like my little magic drive. (He an IT guy who used to work in backup and restore.) Due to the three panicked phone calls he received and the two minutes he spent sitting in my chair to make sure my little device was doing what it was supposed to, I’m figuring I’ll get a bill for a good two grand for his time and effort.

That’s okay, I have billable talents, too.

~Kate~

The post Computer crashes and hubby appreciation day appeared first on Kate Devlin Romance Author.

I can’t describe the glow of happiness I walked around with the few months preceding Trueblood’s fifth season. Knowing Christopher Meloni would be a vampire really, really floated my boat. Yes, yes, Roman did it for me as much as Detective Stabler. After thirteen years of getting to watch Detective Stabler, I’m crushed Roman only lasted a quarter of a a season.

I cannot believe he is dead after only four episodes. Last night, I threw my own private fit after the show. At least we still have Eric and Alcide to lust after.

And then, perusing the internet, I checked IMDB to see if they had any information as to the episodes of TB Christopher Meloni would be in. They showed him in all the rest of the season’s episodes, so… What the hell happens to him?

In my confusion, I turned to the blogsphere and spent several hours laughing. The Romance Man http://theromanceman.net is a hugely wonderful blog. The comments are as wonderful as the blog itself.

Then we head to wrong on more than one level. How about wrong on most every level, but too damned funny not to mention. http://www.27bslash6.com/index.html I think of him as the apartment guy.

So, while I’m mourning the lost of Roman from Trueblood, cheer me up! What are you doing this week?

The post Trueblood and great blogs appeared first on Kate Devlin Romance Author.

Sometimes, when I’m supposed to be writing, I get stuck perusing the internet. Now I usually start with Trueblood spoilers, which segways into my love of all things Christopher Meloni! Yes, yes, Roman did it for me as much as Detective Stabler. I cannot believe he is dead after only four episodes. Last night, I threw my own private fit after the show. At least we still have Eric and Alcide to lust after.

In my grief, I turned to the blogsphere and spent several hours laughing. The Romance Man http://theromanceman.net is a hugely wonderful blog. The comments are as wonderful as the blog itself.

Then we head to wrong on more than one level. How about wrong on most every level, but too damned funny not to mention. http://www.27bslash6.com/index.html I think of him as the apartment guy.

So, while I’m mourning the lost off Roman from Trueblood, cheer me up! What are you doing this week?

The post appeared first on Kate Devlin Romance Author.

So, my dreams are vivid, wild things. They always have been. I keep a dream journal sporadically, but I should keep it all the time.

Last night, after watching The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo my dreams were even wilder.

First I dreamed I was ranting at parents I do not own as to why they named me Kate instead of Lisbet, which was suuuuuch a cool name. I was fourteen. My eyes were stiff with all the black liner, and I had a tongue piercing. I couldn’t deal with a tongue piercing in real life.

Next I dreamed my master bath shower had black stuff coming down the walls. It looked like someone took black mulch and let it drift down from the top of the shower. Of course, I went for the Mean Green Bissell carpet cleaner to remove the mulch. Wouldn’t you?

While I was cleaning the mulch, Stellan Skarsgard came into my bathroom and sat down on the lid of the commode. He lumbered in, wearing jeans, boots and an untucked maroon button down.  He offered me  one of the two  brandy snifters he carried, and patted his lap for me to sit down. I worried about where my husband was, but took the chance anyway.

Once I was seated, he said, “Do I have a book plot for you.”

I don’t remember another damned thing from the dream. If anyone finds it, please post a comment here. I’d really, really like to know what he said.

And last but not least, if I’m going to dream about one of the Skarsgards, I’d like to request the next one be about Alexander, and there be no cleaning involved.

I’m Kate Devlin, another nutty romance writer. I came to writing by taking a long, convoluted path through the world of classical music, child rearing and life lessons. Here I am, happy you stopped by. Even happier to have books to offer you.

CONTENT WARNING: This blog is intended as a mature site, as my writing roams from tame to hot. Lately, I’m stuck on hot.

However you found your way here, I’m happy you stopped by. This blog is a work in progress, just like we all are.

And yes, I really do think love is the answer.

~Kate~

Some writers actually outline books and plot them start to finish, sit down each morning or after their day jobs and write until they meet their goal for the day. They handle distractions with ease and continue on. When I think of these lucky people, I see an early picture of Stephen King bent over a typewriter, his hair a mess, his glasses crooked on his face as he grimaces toward the camera. His hands still typing.

I am not one of those writers.

First a TV show, a song, (usually a song) or a story grabs my attention. Then, I’ll see someone, or more often than not, hear them comment on what I’m doing in my head. I saw a therapist about this at one point. The vote’s still out on whether or not I’m crazy. Don’t ask my family, please.

Xahara, the woman my current book is about runs a B&B. She has tips on bed making, efficient cleaning and cooking for large groups of people. What’s more, she offers them free of charge while I go about my day. She was the first to show up for this book, but she has more family than I do. I am getting to know them all a time goes.

With my dim idea and a character, I can start. This is where it gets tricky. This is where the muse comes in. I’m not one of those people who can write anywhere. I have to have my desk, my computer, a glass of water and a dog. Music can happen beforehand, but not while I’m trying to write. The dog is always willing to climb in the bed beside me and nap. I’ll show you. This is Charlie who is lying in the cat’s bed because the forty-five pound Lab mix lies in his.

Sleeping Charlie

Then, I pray the phone doesn’t ring and no one will need me for an hour or so and dive in. Xahara came with her story fully installed. All I had to do was glean the information. I found her at a carnival, staring at a carousel. She’d been there for a good portion of the evening, so there had to be a reason. Then a man came along. One she knew who didn’t understand the words no or I’m busy.

Good thing he didn’t, or I’d have been back at square one. The carnival theme has held true. We’re on a wild, roller coaster ride I still can’t quite see the end of yet. The muse is still here, helping, along with all the people I go to when I’m stuck.

And truthfully, I can’t say I wish I were one the writers mentioned above. Sitting at my keyboard, watching this story unfold from my hands is an amazing process. A gift with a little magic thrown in.

~Kate~

I’ve belonged to three crit groups since I began my foray into the writing world, each of them wonderful in their own way. The nicest thing I can say is I’ve remained friends with all these wonderful folks. I’ve been a part of my current crit group since its inception. They are a group of superhuman folks who listen to my rants, read snively first drafts and teach me so much about this business.

Like every group, we go through busy times and slow times. We just went through one of those slow times, but now, things are picking up. Every time I log on there is new stuff to crit. I think I’ve seen the start of three new books this past week. We’re on a roll–again.

Jump on in, the water’s fine. Stand in the breeze and let the wind catch you up. Catch the wave, baby. If you’ve ever been part of a baseball or football team, a choir, a theater troupe, a band or an orchestra, you’ve felt the pull of what I’m talking about.

Politicians use it, businesses use it, marketing degrees teach you to manipulate this force. And statistics, which boggle my mind, well, I know how they could be applied to study momentum, but it’s all this fuzzy idea somewhere in the ethereal parts of my brain.

It’s the idea behind joining a group like Weight Watchers to lose weight rather than doing it yourself. Or http:sparkpeople.com my favorite new group of people in the whole wide world.  With their support, I’m losing weight like never before.

Every night, I meet a small group of writers in a chat room for power hours. Sure, we chat some, but we write more.

Momentum is a powerful force, like gravity or love. You don’t even have to believe for it to work in your life. When I’m starting something new, I’ve learned to wait for the momentum to build, to wait for the perfect moment to start. I’ve learned to be conscious of the words and phrases people are using and the things they are talking about. Those things are where the momentum is right now.

Feel the force, people!

I was at the mall with one of my kids the other day when we passed this calm oasis in the midst of all the chaos.

“Massage,” one of the men offered.

I couldn’t refuse. A fifteen minute massage for twenty bucks sounded wonderful. I sat forward in his odd, little chair, rested my face in the circle provided and let him work his magic.

I’ve been a huge fan of massages since a friend of mine in Austin used to offer them at low cost, even birthday gifts. This one was shorter, but no less enjoyable.

Well, the oddest thing happened when he was working my shoulders. All of a sudden, words I’d erased, whole sentences and punctuation began flying from my body. With my eyes closed, I could not only feel them, but see the letters clearly.

I’m still at a loss as to what was happening. On the other hand, I’m still much more relaxed than I was before I waltzed into the mall with my son.

Lyris shut her eyes and stilled her mind before she slipped the earpiece on. All around the low, circular stage the audience waited in hushed anticipation. The familiar, energizing hum filled her thoughts before the harp materialized in her mind’s eye. She moved her hands into position, and the shimmering harp appeared before her on the stage.

As always, her consciousness expanded, taking in each individual present for the performance, both those with a body and without. Something was different tonight. Usually, the audience blended into one energy she could draw on. The energy of a lone life force caught her attention. A powerful male, sensual and aware. She touched his energy lightly with her own and focused away.

Waves of colors danced, and the harp began to sound. She shaped the energy into long, delicate spirals while her fingers added elegant strands of sound. Only then did she join her voice with the light, frothy strains.

Music from the Solani mind harp could be recorded, but rarely duplicated. Only those with enough fortitude to harness the energy in the same way again and again could perform pieces people knew and remembered. After the first hour, Mayan let her mind travel to those familiar musical thoughts. The music lost some of its magic, but there were pieces she was asked for time and time again.

As the evening lengthened, Mayan’s spirit soared higher and higher as she prepared for the end of the performance. Before her energy could flag, she went still. She summoned the colors and let them wash through her. In turn, they woke the full gamut of emotion filling the room. Only when the music danced at fever pitch did she coalesce the sound into joy. She held the music inside until it burst in a blinding, white light, as pleasure swept through her body time and time again. When the last notes died away, she bowed her head and waited for the harp to disappear.

After her bows, she locked herself inside the renewal chamber for fifteen short minutes before dressing to meet the public. She shook hand after hand, wondering if he would come. Greeting guest after guest, she felt his approach. Just as the other nights, his energy left as quickly as it had come. So she would wait and pray he was more than a dream.