I love Cheese

No, not the dairy kind (Actually, I do love the diary kind too). I mean the emotional schmaltz that brings sappy tears to the eyes or laughter to the lips or cheers to the throngs. Let’s face it: the world would be a better place if it were cheesier. We’d have more happy endings, more villains getting their just deserts, more moments of laughter, more real causes to root for, more fun.

Things on my list of sublime cheesiness: flash mobs ; Disney movies; Hallmark commercials; superheroes; happy endings; puppies; balloons; showy proposals; old people holding hands; romance novels. How can you not like them? Cheesy things make the world livable, renew your faith in mankind, and just give you a warm feeling overall.

Ballons a group of readers surprised me with yesterday. The blue one says “Make a Wish”

So I hereby promise to live my life with all the cheesy goodness I can. I will forget on occasion, I’m sure, but long live the cheese. Life is too short to take it too seriously.

Books I’m reading now:
The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

You want to see me in person, right?

In about two weeks I will be in Anaheim at the RWA National Convention. There will be a huge signing (HUGE–400 plus authors) on July 25 at the Anaheim Convention Center from 5:30 PM to 8:00 PM. No outside books will be allowed because this is a signing for literacy. All proceeds go to combating illiteracy in America, with a portion going to a local agency. Authors won’t be set up in alphabetical order, however. All attendees will be given a map, and each table will have a number.  So be sure to look for me under Gabi Stevens. A little complicated, but we all know romance readers are smart.

In addition, I’m speaking at the conference on Saturday afternoon (July 28) at 12:45 PM on “The Meaning of Life: Theme.” I love this topic. All about the meaning of the books we love to read. Yes, despite what you may think, all books have themes and I’m going to help my listeners suss out the meanings of theirs. Honestly, we don’t set out to write about meaning–we just try to tell a story–but it happens anyway. Remember back in school when you used to question your teachers whether the author meant to put such meaning into their books. Of course they didn’t. It happens anyway. And that’s what I’m talking about.

I hope I’ll see some of you in Anaheim. I may be tired at the signing. If all goes as planned, I’m doing Disney the day before. 🙂

And a month after RWA I’ll be in Albuquerque at Bubonicon, but more on that later.


Books I’m reading now:

The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

Becoming a Curmudgeon

Questions I’ve been pondering lately:

Why are all the voices in my head speaking to me in first person when I like third person books?

How does one change his or her luck? (And don’t tell me, “be prepared,” because that’s already taken care of)

Why does bread have to taste so good? (And on the same note, why are vegetables so yucky?)

Why do we tell children to act their age, then as adults tell ourselves never to grow up?

Why do people want flying cars? Do you really want the idiots on the road to be flying above your head?

Whether or not you “believe” in global warming is irrelevant. Can’t we agree that coming up with an alternative to spewing poisons in the air, protecting the earth, and removing the influence of huge corporations from government is a good thing? (I’m not saying “no oil”, I’m saying research is good.)

Why am I so freaked out by insects when I’m a gagillion times bigger than they are?

When did I develop my fear of heights that nearly crippled me climbing the towers of Europe last summer? (I have sworn never to climb a tower again–although I can come up with at least a dozen scenarios in my writer’s brain which would compel me to break that vow–so I can honestly say that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is the last tower I shall ever climb.)

How can I love liverwurst, but hate liver; love almonds (and these great Hungarian almond cookies), but hate Amaretto (same goes for hazelnuts and Frangelico); love pickles, but not relish; cook with olive oil, but hate olives; hate coffee (black), but love coffee ice cream?

When is it officially okay to become a curmudgeon?


Books I”m reading now:

The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman

The Queen of Babble Gets Hitched by Meg Cabot