I'm going to Romantic Times.

I'm getting a gorgeous new website, and as part of that process, I'm moving to another blogging platform, so it will all be coordinated. This will be one of the last posts from this site, but I wanted to get this news in before we move.

I'm going to the RT convention in Las Vegas April. I'm so excited — it will be my first RT convention.

I'm going to be on a "Meet the Authors from Downunder" reader event with my friends Keri Arthur,  Nalini Singh, and Khloe Wren. They're all paranormal writers (and fabulous ones, too) so I'll be the odd one out, the lone historical writer in the group. That's on the Wednesday.

And on the Thursday afternoon, I'm going to be on a hero panel "Rakes Rogues and Warrior Poets" with my friends and fellow historical romance writers, Mary Jo Putney and Patricia Rice.

I'll be signing with Berkley, too. The full program is here.

I'm really looking forward to catching up with author friends, readers and meeting new people.
Hope to see you there.

The blessing of parkland

I am blessed in having a nearby off-lead park in which to walk my dog.  I live quite close to the city, but I believe at some stage this land was planned to become a freeway. Luckily it never eventuated, so now we have a lovely half-wild park.

One side of the creek is fairly natural and "bushlike", except they mow the grass, and the other contains ovals and a bike path and a big area of wild-ish parkland. 

Since the planting of gum trees and other native vegetation, the native birdlife has been returning and now we regularly see ducks, kookaburras, currawongs, magpies, rainbow lorikeets, and many others— well a lot of them we don't so much see as hear— so it  can feel more as though you're in the bush, rather than a fairly short distance from the city.

If you want to hear the sounds they make, here are links: kookaburras, currawongs, magpies, rainbow lorikeets.  I'm assuming you know ducks. 

And this is my dog surveying her domain. She jumps on this old chunk of concrete every single night.

Mt Macedon

Next Saturday I'm going to be speaking at The Gallery in beautiful Mount Macedon -- a lovely gem of a town a little over half an hour's drive from Melbourne. It's historic, and is best known for scenery and gorgeous gardens, and as spring has sprung in my neck of the woods, I'm looking forward to seeing the spring gardens. 

So, art, spring gardens, book talk and a delicious afternoon tea included in the price — what could be better? To book email: info (at) thegallerymtmacedon (dot) com (dot) au  (no spaces)
or phone: 5426 3322   Hope to see you there.

Romance Writers of America — San Antonio

I arrived here last night, exhausted after my 26 hour journey -- staggered in to my hotel feeling like a limp rag, and hey, the hotel was overbooked, so I was given an upgrade — a lovely room with a balcony that looked out on this view.

It looks down on the San Antonio Riverwalk, which is a brilliant conception and makes for a lovely focus of the city. That's part of it below.

 Boats filled with tourists float by on a regular basis -- you can see some of them in the pic below. I didn't take a tour — I wanted to walk and straighten out the kinks from sitting a plane for so long and try to reduce the effects of jet-lag by resetting my body clock with exercise in the sun.

This is the same view from my balcony at night. Gorgeous, isn't it? I feel very lucky at the moment.

So I'm off to bed now, though I don't feel the slightest bit tired. It's 1 am here, but despite all the walking in the sun, my body still thinks it's on Australian time, which is mid-afternoon.

Oh well, let's hope I'm not a complete zombie in the morning.

Short Interview with New South Wales Writers Centre

I did a short interview with the NSW Writers Centre in Sydney, in preparation for the Romancing the Page workshop I'm doing there, and thought I'd post it here as well. Please note that the workshop date has changed — it's now on May 4th 2014

How did you get into romance writing?
Initially I thought writing romance would be a quick and easy way to fund a more "literary career" -- I knew nothing about romance then, only the urban myths that abound about the genre. But once I started reading widely within the genre and saw the huge range of stories published, I realised I could write the stories that I wanted to write, that I didn't have to write "to formula" as I'd assumed.  I found that writing romance isn't easy, but it is a lot of fun. I've never looked back.

Sixteen books published! How do you stay inspired and find fresh stories?

It's easy. New story ideas come all the time, and the genre itself is constantly reinventing itself and expanding. But at the heart of every romance novel there are people, and people are endlessly fascinating and surprising. The difficulty isn't about staying inspired, it's finding the time to write all the things I want to write.

Do you consider yourself a hopeless romantic? 

I am in lots of ways. I do believe in the power of love to change people and inspire them  to change their lives. Its one of the most transforming things in our lives. I'm a "Love Actually" kind of romantic, though -- the sort that sees all kinds of love in all kinds of people. I've spent my life working in underprivileged areas and with people whose lives are often in crisis, so I'm not blind to the problems in society. But I still believe in love and I see it all around me.

Who is your favourite literary lover?

That's a hard one-- there are so many to choose from. I'm going to avoid all the literary lovers who ended up dead -- I like a happy ending, thank you. I'll go for Damerel, in Georgette Heyer's Venetia. He's a wicked funny, poetry-spouting, flirtatious bad boy, a nineteenth century rake who, when he falls for the lovely Venetia, tries to stay away from her for her own good. Of course she's a spirited heroine who gives as good as she gets, and she won't stand for such foolishness.

Anne Gracie's next book, The Winter Bride (Berkley USA and Penguin Australia) is on sale from March 26th.

A day out

Yesterday I drove a visiting writer friend down to Queenscliff, on the beach, where she was going to do a week of intensive work on a joint project with another writer friend. It was a glorious Spring day — clear and sunny with a balmy breeze — a gift after a patch of cold, rainy, miserable weather.

My original plan was to take my friend there, have lunch with them and then go back home, where I had a mound of work waiting for me, but it was so beautiful I allowed myself to be talked into a walk. A long walk. And then dinner.

 We walked around the salt water inlet — Swan Bay and saw pelicans, black swans, seagulls and oystercatchers

There's a group of steam engine enthusiasts who, on certain days, run a little engine from Queenscliff to Drysdale — it's a Thomas the Tank Engine choo-choo train, with the face on the front, and there's even a Fat Controller, who looked wonderful in his top hat and formal coat.

I didn't take a photo of the front, with Thomas's face, and I missed the Fat Controller, but here's the little train choofing past us, with a bunch of happy kids on board.

We took the dog, too.

 After Swan Bay we cut across (Queenscliff is a kind of small promontory) and got our first glimpse of the ocean. 

On the way we saw a beautiful Eastern Rosella sitting in a bottle brush tree. Isn't he a handsome fellow?

We wandered back along the ocean beach, picking up shells and the occasional bit of sea-glass (for my jewellery) and admiring the contents of the rock-pools. Here are baby mussels growing in colonies around the edge of a rock pool — they're only visible for a few hours of the day.

It was so refreshing and cleansing to be on the beach in the sun.

We rounded the point, one of the heads of Port Phillip Bay, where there is an old fort built on top of and into the rocky outcrop. I loved the sea-worn rocks.

 Once inside the bay, the beach was strewn with seaweed of all kinds, including an amazing variety of pink seaweed. I gathered some of the pink ones up but I haven't sorted them out yet for a photo. But here's one little clump.

And the seaweed didn't stop this little girl from creating a fabulous sand castle.

It was only an afternoon, really, but when I drove home last night I felt as though I'd had a little holiday.

A year ago. . .

I was in the USA for the 4th July. I was staying with friends in Dubuque, Iowa. Dubuque is a city built on the shores of the Mississippi and there's a high bluff that overlooks the valley. We were invited to view the 4th July fireworks from the Hancock House, a house built on that bluff — a perfect vantage point.

I adore fireworks, so I was keen to go and watch, but in the event, the fireworks — which were fabulous — were overshadowed by the beautiful house. I'll let the photos do the talking. That's the house, below.

It's a guest house, so you can stay in this gorgeous red bedroom.

Sunset from one of the bay windows.

Another of the fabulous windows — one of the things I loved about this house was the beautifully carved woodwork throughout, like the screen that framed this window alcove.

Another screen framing the entrance to the dining room.

This staircase was magnificent, as was the statue set atop it..

 And I practically drooled over this exquisitely carved fireplace surround and mantel.

The fireworks were stunning, but my camera wasn't up to any photos, even if I wasn't too busy oohing and aahing. But I managed to taste some of the delicious supper afterward. 

It was a wonderful night and though I was a stranger, I felt very welcomed there. And as I type this, I'm smiling at the memories. Thank you, Dubuque. Happy 4th July.

Through Visitors' Eyes

Recently I had some friends visit Melbourne, my city, and we went wandering for a few hours down Brunswick St. I've been wandering that street for years — it's very close to my home and I know it really well. But seeing it through my visitors' eyes was so interesting, and I appreciated it all over again.

We poked through the tea house, sniffing, and tasting so many gorgeous teas and admiring tea pots, teacups, tea-glasses and all sorts of tea-making paraphernalia.

We browsed in a leisurely way through the various book and gift shops, and found a fun book for a romance writer.

My visitors became fascinated by the variety of different sculptural signs that adorn many of the Brunswick St shops. Some signs proclaim businesses that no longer exist, like the cow over the former Charmaine's, who used to make the most wonderful ice-cream. My favorite was chocolate-chilli ice-cream, a taste sensation.  Charmaine's, I do miss you.

There are lots more, and I like the idea of them, even though not all the sculptures appeal to me aesthetically.

We sniffed our way through Kleins, the shop of amazing scents and giggled a bit at some of the labels for the scented candles. This one reads "Trianon. Flourished Smell of Marie Antoinette Dream." We decided she was having a good dream, not one that reeked of guillotines.

We stopped at one of the many restaurants for lunch and ordered some green refresh-and-revitalizer drinks, having no idea what they were but being intrigued and, after the previous night,  in need of revitalization. 

When the drinks arrived, they looked exactly like a healthy drink should look, sludgy green and unappetising. Spinach juice? Essence of compost? 

But they were, in fact, delicious and fruity and I'll definitely order them again next time.

The green stuff is spirulina, a healthy algae weedy thingy, but the drink tasted of the other fruit juices that were in the drink. It didn't taste green or weedy at all.

We all loved Flowers Vasette, my favorite flower shop in all the world, a cool dim cave of gorgeousness —banks of the most glorious flowers, arranged in shades of colour, and scented like a dream. Of the Marie Antoinette good sort. Better actually.

Then we shopped and wandered some more, and finally whizzed up to Carlton to Brunetti's and some hot chocolate and possibly a cake. If we could fit one in.

All in all, a sleepy, indulgent afternoon.

We finished up eating delicious Vietnamese food at one of my favorite restaurants in Victoria St, Richmond.

Even though all these places are so familiar to me, showing them to visitors make me feel like I'd viewed them with fresh eyes. It's good to play tourist in your home town.

A quick Tasmanian escape

Last week I took the opportunity to get away to Tasmania for a few days. For part of it I holed up in a hotel on the east coast, and wrote without interruption. It was a wonderful experience, and I wish I hadn't had to come home so soon.
I hired this little car. Cute, eh? It made me smile. I named it Cedric, after the car in the David Parker/Nadia Tass film, The Big Steal. (If you haven't seen this lovely movie, rent it out - it's fab!)

As Cedric and I wound through the hills, we drove through this... Cool, temperate rainforest. 

I stopped for lunch and wandered down this path...

...and walked along this beach. I shared the entire stretch with one woman and two little girls.

I drove on and found a hotel for the night. This was the view from my room.

And this, in the other direction, taken on a misty, moisty, drizzly day.

I ended up staying there several nights, writing and walking and writing some more. Got loads done.

Every morning and every night I walked along the beach, scrambling over rocks (which I love) or  sinking my toes in sand and small waves. This beach was right across the road from the hotel.

At night I sat quietly on the rocks and watched tiny fairy penguins, so sweet and shy and dauntless as they clambered and waddled over rocks and up the hill to their burrows, where we could hear hungry chicks cheeping imperiously.  I didn't take theses photos; I didn't want to disturb them with a flash, and I didn't have a good enough camera to take pics without.

On the last day, I continued down the east coast. I ate my lunch  on this beach and collected broken shells for a jewellery idea. I always collect shells and stones and bits of driftwood from the beach. Can't help myself, even when I know I'm flying home with only walk-on baggage.

I stopped here just to stare at the view...

And had a coffee here... 

This old cowshed must have the best view in the world, I think — cowshed-wise.

I came home with a firm resolve to organize a writers' retreat here one day.