Hello Houston or one of the reasons why I love my job

I admit that for the past couple of weeks I haven't enjoyed being a writer. Well, no, that's perhaps not exactly accurate.

For the past month or so I've found it difficult being a writer. There have been too many other demands on my time. too many pressures from here there and everywhere. These wouldn't matter if they hadn't combined with the dreaded crows of doubt pecking away at me. Probably because of those time pressures and other things - and as a result, this book hasn't been the easiest to write.

But I'm always very aware of the fact that for the past few weeks have been much harder in many ways - and an email I received this morning reminded me of that.

Remember the Super September Contest? The one where Michelle Reid and I celebrated having books out together in September? The prize was signed copies of our books - and by coincidence, both winners lived in Texas. The name of my winner was Gladys.

I packed up the prize books and posted them. I always love doing that. It gives me a thrill to think of the parcel travelling all the way the Wherever and brightening the day of the person who receives it. But a couple of days later I was starting to wonder about this parcel. Would it reach Gladys? And, more important, would she be there to receive it.

And that was because of Ike.

Remember Ike? Hurricane Ike who hit Texas around September 13th - with Houston, where Gladys lives, right in its path.

It's the sort of thing that brings it home to you. Knowing that Gladys, one of my readers was in Houston when Ike hit, makes it more personal, more immediate. Here in the UK we had some nasty weather but we got on with life and Ike is just a memory - something we heard on the news. A hurricane that is now over with. Not for Houston and everywhere else affected.

A couple of days ago, I got an email from Gladys - she had been without water, phone, electricity - without eletricity for two weeks. And once she had power again and could, plug her computer in she wrote to let me know the prize books had arrived. She also told me about life with Ike

- 7 to 10 inches of rain in a night, roofs torn off, 2,500,000 homes without power. If she went to the store - once they opened - there was just enough generators to run cash registers (but not enough for lights), so they had to wait in line at the door and store clerks would take them in one or two at a time and walk them around to shop with their flashlights.

Gladys said "you can't imagine the debris still waiting to be picked up in Houston. It seems that every yard has a mountain of stuff out by the curb. We lost thousands of trees, wooden fences, roofs, etc. "

But - and here's the bit that really made me smile. In the middle of all this, with no power even for a cup of coffee, no lighting, in the middle of all that chaos and mess - Gladys told me that she read Bedded By The Greek Billionaire by flashlight and loved it.

And that's the bit the makes me love this job, even when its tough going and the words won't come and the Crows of Doubt are pecking away at my confidence. It's the thought of one of my books going into the hands of someone who's having it pretty tough, at a moment of crisis, and providing a bright spot in the middle of all the nasties, a small retreat from the hardships and discomforts. The thought of Gladys in the devastation of Houston being able to find some relaxation and enjoyment in the words I'd written really made my day.

When I create a story here at my desk I never know where or when someone might pick it up under difficult circumstances and find in it a respite from what life is throwing at them right then. But it's a wonderful thought to think it can happen. I may never know about any others, in places or at times that I'll never learn about. But I do know about Gladys and she's the sort of person I'm writing about. The ones who make me smile - and when the critics and the sneerers scorn light romance and its readers, I'll think of Gladys and be even more proud of what I do.

Inspiration - a crow swatter

Talk about the Crows of Doubt and it strikes such a chord with other writers! Thank you to everyone for the emails and the comments and the phone calls. Oh and special thanks to Liz Fielding for her lovely comments on Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife on her blog. When a writer you admire gives you a compliment like that it's the equivalent of being handed a machine gun to blast those crows. Thanks Liz!

Special thanks too to Anne McAllister for the very practical reminder of the need for lots of research and inspiration in writing. In the comments section yesterday she asked to see Santos -

Have we seen a pic of Santos? she said. Maybe we need a pic of him. I, for one, don't remember what he looks like. Hmmmmm?

And later in a phone call she repeated the demand. So I sent her my inspiration - a photo I've been keeping for a while.

Now Anne is a novelist who really likes to do her research. She works hard at it. She's even blogged about it once or twice. And once she'd met Santos she decided she needed to research him a little more.

So we spent an enjoyable - ahem - concentrated and deep and meaningful - time with me generously sharing my research and Anne studiously and conscientiously making notes in case this inspiration might be needed in her own work later.

So we checked out Santos the businessman - in very much the Presents style.

And there was Santos in more relaxed mode - but this is a man who's never really totally relaxed. His past has made him like that. He doesn't trust easily - in fact I'd say he doesn't trust.

And there's Santos the lover

And then - well - just because - there's . . . Santos.

Actually, that back makes me think of Anne's latest cover - the one for her fabulous One-Night Love Child. Although I know this guy wasn't the model for that book, he could have been.

It was a great research session. There's not much that's better than sharing important and meaningful research with a great friend who is also a writer and who understands totally the - esthetics - involved. And the need to get just the right image for each different mood.

And I came away re-inspired and with my writer's brain invigorated and my imagination dusted off - another great big machine gun to fire at those pesky crows.

So here I am, armed against the nasty black flying things, snug inside on a nasty cold snowy, icy day - ready to do battle with any crow that dares to venture near. And if they do start flapping I have a little extra inspiration to study so that I don't have to look at them

Research, it's a wonderful thing - and so are the fabulous friends I have in this writing life. Thank you all!

Shooting crows

My latest book is on the shelves in the bookshops, I have reprints of other books coming out later this year, another new one out in November. These new one are my 52nd and 53rd books. I know what I'm doing. Dammit, I've even writing two How To Write handbooks telling other people how to do this. And of course, as everyone tells me, once you're accepted it's all so simple and straightforward from then on.

And yes, when I look at the books on the shelves they all look so straightforward. You open them, the story starts - it goes through from A to Z - and the story works, the characters come alive, the conflict is there, the resolution, the happy ending . . . Simple, straighforward storytelling. I've done this before and I can do it again - I hope.

Because, as any writer will tell you, sometimes The Crows of Doubt descend and you wonder if your last book was really your last of if the Great Pretender Syndrome has finally shown itself and people are going to say 'Hey - you can't write at all! Why did we ever think you could?' Sometimes you think you know the characters, you know the story, but life is interfering or something is missing and you find that writing just s-l-o-w-s down and all that lovely inspiration, the stuff that fires you up and gets you going has got lost in the fog somewhere and suddenly the Crows are pecking at you hard, like bullies at school, going 'See - told you - you're not a writer . . . '

I have a wonderful book on my shelves. It's called Snoopy's Guide to The Writing Life and it's full of great cartoons featuring Snoopy 'Dogstoievski' the writer. One of my favourites has a picture of Snoopy sitting on top of his dog kennel, ready to start to write, fingers (paws) poised over the typewriter. The next picture is him still sitting there -

Sometimes, he says, when you are a great writer, the words come so fast you can hardly put them down on paper . . .'

Next picture, Snoopy is still poised, still waiting for inspiration . . .

Next - Snoopy looking totally despondent (or crow-pecked) . . .'Sometimes . . . '

Writing's like that. I'm not the only one who has to contend with the Crows. Julie Cohen wrote about the same problem on her blog this week, Trish Wylie has let us in on her struggles with a book from hell - or two - and many of my friends feel this way often - maybe even with every book. Not for nothing is writng a book often compared to giving birth - in the same way, you forget the hell you went through when you see the result.

And what do you do to handle it? Well, apart from bursting into tears, tearing your hair, declaring 'I'm finished, I'll never write again!' - here are some things I try - going away and leaving your desk totally for a while, walking and thinking work well together. Watching a good film - or even a not so good film - or having a soap-fest - seeing stories taking place in front of you - filling up the imagination banks.

Brainstorming - on paper or aloud - I sometimes sit the Babe Magnet down with a mug of coffee or a glass of wine depending on the time of day and the place and start telling him the story - planning on getting to asking him a quesion - but sometimes I don't get to that question because I've talked myself back into the story and I know the answer. But sometimes I have been known to sit in a cafe and say 'So - you married this girl a year ago and she ran out on you and now you discover that she's going to marry someone else . . . .' And then I realise that at several tables nearby, faces are turned my way, ears almost visibly cocked to hear what I'm going to say next. And they think what I'm talking about is real.

And one of the things that helps is reading my own work. I picked up Spanish Billionaire, Innocent Wife in paperback - because the hardback library editions dont seem like real romance books - the romance I read are the M&B paperbacks and so that's how I feel at ease with them. And reading through those pages I reminded myself that I was a writer, I remembered how I dealt with situtaions in that book, with those characters - and while I enjoyed the way the story flowed I also remembered how it didn't just flow in the writing - how I struggled with this bit here and I didn't know what was going to happen next there - and there's the bit where I swore I hated this book and it was never going to come right . . . Because most books have these sticky points. The ones that don't - the ones that flow from start to finish, are a dream to write and never cause any struggle are, as the saying goes, rare as hen's teeth.

All that blood sweat and tears don't show in the book. But it does remind me that I've been here before - and I'll probably be here again. And no, after 50+ books it doesn't get any easier. Because each book is different - or it should be. And that's the other thing about the Crows - one tiny bit of me welcomes them because they mean that I still care about what I'm writing. I'm not just going for the easy option - of which there are several. I'm not just going to manoeuvre my characters into actions that I want them to make because if they're sticking at this point it means that those aren't the actions that are right for them. I know that if they're sticking here it's because there's something I haven't quite got to the heart of. And I need to go back and take a look at these two more closely and find out what it is.

And after some time of cursing and swearing and tearing my hair, I think I might see light at the end of the tunnel.

So as the Magnet and I have to go into town to do some bits and pieces of jobs, I'm going to take him into our favourite coffee shop, buy him a large cappucino and say . . .'So if you wanted this girl but she . . . ' And with any luck I'll find I'll be able to answer my own question.