My two months soldiering in the retail trenches have officially come to a close. It was a lovely and informative time; many old friends were rediscovered, new ones made, and enticing books purchased.
And now I’m right back on deadline — so full posts will have to wait until after the long Thanksgiving weekend. Oh, Thanksgiving, my favorite American holiday, where everyone gets together to celebrate the good things in their lives and eat all the beige and orange foods. (Stuffing! Turkey! Gravy on everything!)
We here at Olivia Waite like to think we’ve learned a lot from romance novels over the years. And one of our recent favorites, Carla Kelly’s Beau Crusoe, turned out to be more accurate than we knew at the time.
Behold: land crabs!
This particular land crab lives in the Virgin Gorda Yacht Harbor in the British Virgin Islands. (That’s the West Indies, to you historical types.) That hole he’s sitting in is actually his home. Normally I love crabs and find them fascinating — not to mention delicious — but there is something about watching a crab the size of your face scurry sideways into a hole in the ground that is just creepy as all hell. There is the unmistakeable impression that the crab is only waiting until your back is turned and then — attack!
In sum: we should all read (and write!) more good romance novels with critters that are both real and terrifying.
We here at Olivia Waite are going to be spending the next week on a boat in tropical waters, drinking rum and eating fish and snorkeling — though not all at once, obviously. (That snorkeling mask really gets in the way of a cocktail.) There will be very few showers, very many cold bottles of beer, and always the soothing wash and slap of the sea.
An accurate forecast of my next eight days.
Lately, I’ve been meaning to write up a post on the state of romance scholarship today. I’m a huge lit-crit nerd and overthinking par excellence, so the new field of popular romance studies is pretty much the greatest gift academia has given me in my lifetime. Since blogging will be tricky in the islands, this seems like a good time to highlight some of the things I’ve been reading in this brave new world of romance geekery. I’ve scheduled posts that link to some of my favorite works of romance scholarship available for public consumption. I hope you enjoy, and I’ll try and post a few photos and stories during the trip if I get the chance!
While I’m gone, of course, you could always try one of my books, which are short and steamy and rather charming, if I do say so myself.
All of a sudden a shiny new idea has coalesced and is writing itself. The reins have fallen between the horses’ legs and all I can do is hang on. In lieu of blogging today, please enjoy this brilliant and mind-bendingly geeky Lego recreation of the equally mind-bending Antikythera Mechanism.
What do ancient Greek mechanical wonders and writing excitement have to do with one another? Keep an eye on this site for future developments!
Welcome, O Reader, to the final entry in this spontaneous Bad Poetry Week Celebration. Spurred by Amanda Palmer‘s example at the start of the week, we’ve since gawked at horrifying lizard-themed word-butchery by Troy Lumber, a cringeworthy WWI song, and and ode by the Cheese Poet. But lest we start to feel superior, in comparison […]
For our penultimate day of Bad Poetry Week, I’d like to introduce you to the work of Canada’s James MacIntyre, also known as the Cheese Poet. This is a man who cruelly and with malice aforethought rhymed “cheese” with “squeeze” in more than one poem. So please allow me the dubious pleasure of presenting my […]
The First World War is often remembered for the amount of poetry it produced. Alan Seeger’s beautiful and chillingly accurate “I Have a Rendezvous with Death” speaks for the pro-war poets, while Wilfred Owen’s harrowing “Dulce et Decorum Est” comes down on the side of war being absurdly horrifying. And then, sitting in the middle like your […]
Bad poetry is like karaoke: best when shared. One site dedicated to doing just that is the aptly named Very Bad Poetry, where I found the gem of a poem below. Which, incidentally, definitely needs to be a song — I’m thinking a kind of folk-metal combo, with a jazz flute. Reptilicus by Troy Lumber […]
So last week was a rough one. I know we all were hoping this week would be better. But then news came that Amanda Palmer had written a poem about the captured Boston bomber — and not just any poem, but a really, truly, unbelievably terrible one. Vogon-worthy poetry. She’s now getting quite a bit […]