Dear Reader,

One month into a new year and–despite all my resolutions for change in 2012–I’m still caught up in my usual routine: writing, tennis and travel.

Writing

I’m excited about the upcoming debut of my new Mail-Order Bride series. TEXAS BRIDE is the first book and will be available for purchase on March 27, 2012. Besides featuring Cricket Creed (from my Sisters of the Lone Star series), TEXAS BRIDE also introduces Alexander Blackthorne, the first Blackthorne in Texas, and therefore is also a prequel to my Bitter Creek series. (And, yes, I’m working on getting a Bitter Creek Family Tree on my website for those of you who have been asking for one!)

As I write this, I’m putting the finishing touches on WYOMING BRIDE, book two in the Mail-Order Bride series. I love the Wentworth family (four sisters and two brothers) I’ve introduced in this series!

You can read an excerpt for TEXAS BRIDE on my website. You’ll find an excerpt for WYOMING BRIDE in the back of TEXAS BRIDE which I hope you’ll also enjoy. I’ve already started researching the Bitterroot Valley in Montana, the site for the third book in the series, MONTANA BRIDE.

Tennis

When I’m writing, I almost live in my office. So I’m so looking forward to typing The End to my current book and taking a short break in late March to attend the Sony Ericsson Openin Miami. It will be a treat to watch favorite tennis players: Petra Kvitova (WTA) and Novak Djokovic (ATP). These days, a tennis match provides most of the exercise I get. I love “whacking” at the ball. It helps to get rid of the frustration I sometimes feel when I’m struggling to get words on paper.

Travel

I’ll be speaking at Sleuthfest in Orlando at the end of March and at Craftfest/Thrillerfest in July. It’s a nice chance to network, speak with readers and see dear friends.

I’ve decided to stay in Florida rather than move back to Denver. It was a difficult decision, because I love Denver, especially hiking the mountains around Boulder and, naturally, Broncos football (Go Tebow!). Staying in Florida means being close to family and enjoying the wonderful weather and the convenience of European travel–Switzerland in June–to do more research for the Benedict Brothers series.

I have a substantial chunk of Lydia’s story, UNFORGETTABLE, written, and hope to squeeze in a little more work on the British Benedict Brothers series as I finish up my Mail-Order Bride series. I also hope to make a quick trip to the Bitterroot Valley sometime in August to see the locale of MONTANA BRIDE for myself.

I do appreciate your e-mails, although I’ve gotten woefully behind in answering my mail while on deadline. Just know I’m thinking about you–and keeping the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair!

It’s December and like many of you I’m feeling the joy and excitement of the holiday. Besides all the holiday shopping and cards and decorating and parties and football (Go Tebow!) and family get-togethers, I’m also finishing up book two in the Mail-Order Bride series, WYOMING BRIDE. I love the Wentworth family (four sisters and two brothers) I’ve introduced in this series and I hope you will, too. These books are all be connected to characters in my previous novels. For instance, Cricket Creed’s eldest son, Jake, is the hero of the first book in the series, TEXAS BRIDE, which will be out in April 2012 (The publisher moved it to a “better” –but later–spot).

I’m having a great time experiencing the holidays through the eyes of my two grandchildren. I host a family dinner every Monday night for my daughter, son-in-law and their kids, and I take advantage of the opportunity to set a table with placemats and candles and flowers and to cook something (like lamb shanks) that takes for more time than my daughter would be able to spend cooking after a hard day at work. The grandkids help with cooking and decorating the table, which is fun for them and for me. This year I’m excited that my son will be arriving from Seattle so the whole family will be together to celebrate the New Year. He’s a Miami Dolphins fan, so we’re trekking to Miami to see the game on January 1. Look for me waving in the stands!

You can click on Coming Soon for a sneak peek at the cover of TEXAS BRIDE. The book will include an excerpt from the next book in the series, WYOMING BRIDE. Besides featuring Cricket Creed (from my Sisters of the Lone Star series), TEXAS BRIDE also introduces Alexander Blackthorne, the first Blackthorne in Texas, and therefore is also a prequel to my Bitter Creek series.

December mail also brought cover flats for a re-issue of COLTER’S WIFE. coming in May 2012. For a special treat, THE TEXAN will be in Sam’s Club in August. I’ll also be posting a short story connected to OUTCAST, from my Benedict Brothers series, as an e-book in 2012. I’ll let you know when it’s available.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday season and a fabulous 2012!

Best,

I recently met with a friend in Seattle and realized I’d been in 9 different time zones in the space of a few weeks. No wonder I kept yawning over my lunch!

Despite the inconvenient disruption of my sleeping habits, I enjoyed my travels over the three months of summer immensely. If you’ve been reading my summer blog posts from London you experienced some of these highlights with me.

Almost Touching

Every so often, the British Heritage Trust at Stonehenge allows groups to walk in amongst (but not touch!) the stones at sunrise. I was privileged to be one of a group of 32 who had that experience. It was exhilarating to be allowed to get close enough to see where someone etched his presence in the stone in 1814, or to see where water has worn away holes in the stone, or to see the “blue stones” within the circle concealed by the larger stones without, or the moss growing on the stones right up close or to stand directly beneath one of the stone lentils. Most visitors are required to remain on a sidewalk perhaps three or four car lengths from the stones. We were the only folks there (aside from a single security guard), and the circle is large enough for me to have been there with no one else in sight. It was a feeling of sheer joy–cold and windy bliss, to be sure–to be there as the sun rose in a bright blue sky.

To further explain the nine time zones, once I returned home from London I immediately left again for Banff and Lake Louise, Canada, for my annual mother-daughter trip. Then quick hopscotched trips between Florida (to unpack), Colorado (to see Broncos football) and Seattle, Washington (to see my son), before finally coming home to stay.

While in England, I did an on-line review (Quite an adventure!) of the copy-edit for TEXAS BRIDE, the first book in my new Mail-Order Bride series, due in stores March 2012. Click Coming Soon for a sneak peek at the cover! TEXAS BRIDE features Cricket Creed (from my Sisters of the Lone Star series) and Alexander Blackthorne, the first Blackthorne in Texas, and is a prequel to my Bitter Creek series.

Now that I’m settled back in my office, I’m busy finishing up book two in the Mail-Order Bride series, WYOMING BRIDE. I love the family of characters in this series and I hope you will, too! These books will all be connected to characters in my previous novels.

Hope you had a great summer! I’d love to hear which moments were memorable for you and what you’re looking forward to now that fall is here.

Cheers (common British greeting meaning “So long!” or “See you later!”),

JOAN WALKS AMONG THE STONES AT STONEHENGE
and
JOAN READS HER FIRST RAYMOND CHANDLER NOVEL

I’ve attached a photo, and no, it hasn’t been photoshopped. That is me standing between two upright stones at Stonehenge, my hands a hairsbreadth from–but not touching–two of the stones.

Every so often, the British Heritage Trust at Stonehenge allows groups to walk in amongst (but not touch!) the stones at sunrise. Yesterday, I was privileged to be one of a group of 32 who had that experience (which required buying a tiny British flag alarm clock so I could get up at 4:00 a.m. for the journey from London to Stonehenge). It was exhilarating to be allowed to get close enough to see where someone etched his presence in the stone in 1814, or to see where water has worn away holes in the stone, or to see the “blue stones” within the circle concealed by the larger stones without, or the moss growing on the stones right up close or to stand directly beneath one of the stone lentils. Most visitors are required to remain on a sidewalk perhaps three or four car lengths from the stones. We were the only folks there (aside from a single security guard), and the circle is large enough for me to have been there with no one else in sight. It was a feeling of sheer joy–cold and windy bliss, to be sure–to be there as the sun rose in a bright blue sky.

It’s a “fun fact” that until 1962, the stones were located on someone’s private property, and that in the early 20th century they were sold privately several times (the latest time, along with the surrounding farmland, for about 9000 pounds). Eventually, the site at Stonehenge was sold to the British Heritage Trust, and has become a favorite tourist attraction. I just happened to see one of those History Channel specials on Stonehenge the day before I went there, so it made it all the more special to be somewhere with such very ancient (pre-Pyramids) history.

Okay, having said all that, I had an equally earth-shattering moment late last night when I picked up my first Raymond Chandler novel featuring his Private Eye, Philip Marlowe. I’m sleeping on the third floor, and the book I wanted to read (which I bought the first week I was here), was a trade-paperback-size copy of Karin Slaughter‘s Broken. However, I didn’t feel like going up and down three flights (62 stairs) to retrieve it–or my Kindle, which has another 50 or so books on it, including Meg Gardiner‘s Evan Delaney novels, which I’m racing through with great enjoyment. So I took a look through my hostess’s third-floor bookshelves.

My friend Liz writes literary fiction and like most writers I know, she reads voraciously and owns hundreds (maybe thousands?) of books. Among my choices upstairs were: Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men (saw the movie), Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird (saw the movie), Michael Cunningham’s The Hours (skipped the movie), Sara Gruen’s Water for Elephant’s (listened to–and loved–the audio book), and Elizabeth Gilbert’s sequel to Eat, Pray, Love titled Committed (already read it). Also available were authors I’d never heard including Taichi Yaneda, Mohamed Hanif and Czeslaw Milosz (who must have as much trouble getting his named pronounced correctly when people ask for one of his books as one of my favorite California authors, John Lescroart. I dare you to try to pronounce it. Okay, it’s LESS-KWAH).

Liz’s copy of Raymond Chandler’s The Long Good-bye has a foreward by Jeffrey Deaver, where he talks about the language Chandler uses. Jeffrey quotes the first sentence of the book, which for any of you writers out there says a great deal about Chandler’s felicity with words: “The first time I laid eyes on Terry Lennox he was drunk in a Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith outside the terrace of The Dancers. The parking lot attendant had brought the car out and he was still holding the door open because Terry Lennox’s left foot was still dangling outside, as if he had forgotten he had one.”

For me, it’s a case of love at the first paragrah. It’s the same exhilaration I felt reading my first Pat Conroy novel, Prince of Tides. These guys know how to put words together. I feel vindicated when I see Chandler using sentence fragments (which pervade my books), rather than writing everything neat and tidy with a subject and a verb. His descriptions of people (see above) tell a great deal without necessarily giving you occupation, hair and eye color and body build. I will enjoy reading Chandler for fun. More importantly, I will learn more how to be a better writer from Chandler.

I leave for the States in two days, and with any luck, Hurricane Irene will have come and gone by then. My heart goes out to those of you dealing with the devastation of high winds and too much rain. I hope you stay safe or escape Irene entirely.

It’s been consistently rainy and cold this past week, although we managed to get only patchy showers yesterday, when I also had a chance to visit Oxford University. I visited the dining hall at Christ Church College that was the inspiration for the dining hall in the Harry Potter books and movie. Also saw the stonemason’s Z in the cobbles that were supposedly an inspiration for Harry Potter’s scar. Visiting Christ Church, one of the colleges (among 32 or so) at Oxford University made me wish I’d gone there, but the reality is, the stone walls make everything even colder than England normally is. Still, think of how much history Christ Church holds!

Finally, we visited Windsor Castle, which is the best-preserved castle I’ve seen here in England. It’s apparently the queen’s favorite of her three homes (Buckingham Palace and Holyrood Castle in Scotland being the other two), but it’s right in the flight path of Heathrow these days. I walked on the tomb of Henry VIII, which is in the chapel at Windsor Castle, along with the tombs of many other kings and queens, including Queen Elizabeth II’s mother and father. I wouldn’t want a lot of people traispsing around my homes all summer, but I appreciate the queen’s willingness to share all that history with those of us curious enough to want to see it. I recommend visiting the staterooms–for the art, the amazing collections of china (all but one of the collections is used in state dinners; that one has too much lead content), and the numerous precious-stone-encrusted swords and other weapons and armor.

This past week, I also saw Pedro Almodovar’s latest movie, The Skin I Live In. It’s not for everybody. Be sure to read a review before you go, so you know how very dark–and twisted–this movie is. I found it riveting. My mind just doesn’t go in that direction, and by the time I discovered what I was watching, I’d already seen it. It’s how I felt when I read the first chapter of my first Karin Slaughter book–probably why she’s so popular in England, which loves horror novels. Karin writes very dark, and in that first book she relates a crime more vicious–and depraved–than anything I could ever imagine. It was too late to “unread” it when I realized I didn’t want to know that sort of depravity existed. Of course, as you see above, I’m still reading Karin Slaughter. What can I say? She writes a great “unputdownable” book!

This was a busy week for me, since it’s my last before I head home. I wanted to attend afternoon tea at one of the old hotels in town–Claridge’s was my goal–and ended up at The Ritz on Friday instead. I invited my friends from Tottenham (we met two years ago in the Wimbledon queue, and yes, you really are in line long enough to make lifelong friends) and we were required to dress up (ties for men, no jeans or tennis shoes) and had our choice of teas, sandwiches and cakes. I ate my first cucumber sandwich (duh, full of thinly sliced cucumbers), and an assortment of petit fours, ending, of course, with clotted cream, strawberry jam (jelly in Britain is their name for Jell-O), and scones (think of Bisquick biscuits with or without raisins).

Oh, yes, and I can’t forget, I found those marshmallow treats I liked so much from the Barbican. They’re called Tunnock’s Tea Cakes and I found them at Morrisson’s grocery. I recommend them wholeheartedly. The marshmallow melts in your mouth!

I haven’t even mentioned my trip to the hospital on Tuesday. I’m rarely sick, but Tuesday morning I woke up with vertigo and felt nauseated. Since I have the long flight home coming up, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t sick with something serious. My friend Humphrey sent me to a “private” hospital (Bupa Cromwell Hospital) where I saw a GP (general practitioner) who greeted me in his office/examining room at 10:30 a.m. dressed in a suit and tie with cufflinks (!). He recommended that I get a brain scan, but to do that, I had to check in to the hospital. The GP walked me over to the hospital, filled the prescription for the nausea medication himself, gave me a shot to stop the nausea immediately, checked me into the hospital, and made the appointment for the MRI (scheduled at 1:30 p.m.). When was the last time your doctor did all that for you? I ate lunch in the doctor’s restaurant in the basement of the hospital before I checked in (some of the best duck–crisp skin–I’ve had!), then checked into my room. I was required to put a sheet across my legs “so I would be decent” on the wheelchair ride down to the MRI–since there are so many people of different faiths in the hospital. I had tea at 4:00 p.m. at the hospital (tea & a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie), and dinner (poached chicken with rice: this is the whitest, blandest meal you will ever see).

Long and short–my brain is “perfect” (which doesn’t explain why I have so much trouble finding the right word when I want it while writing), and with any luck, the inner ear viral infection that’s causing my vertigo will pass quickly. I never actually saw the neurologist who reviewed the MRI film, but he spoke to me on the phone. I was released from the hospital at 8 p.m. without seeing another doctor. The nurse took me to a window on the 3rd floor (one of the doctor’s offices) to point me in the right direction for the nearby Earl’s Court underground station, and I left the hospital (no wheelchair necesssary to leave the premesis) and walked to the Underground and was home in bed by 9:00 p.m. I’m feeling fine, by the way. Obviously, since I spent 12 hours yesterday seeing Stonehenge, Oxford and Windsor Castle.

I need to spend the day packing–I brought too many clothes and bought too many souvenirs–to make sure I can get everything in my luggage. I’m grateful Irene missed Florida and am look forward to seeing many of you soon.

Cheers (common British greeting meaning so long or see you later),

Joan

While we’re on the subject of words, thought I’d let you know that if you’re in London ordering food (which I often am), you should know the difference when the waitress asks you, “Fries or chips?” What she means is, do you want skinny little American French fries, like you’d get at McDonald’s or Burger King, or would you like to have big fat British chips (thick French fries)? Also, “Wicked!” is another way of saying “Brilliant” which is another way of saying “Cool! or Neat! or Wow!”

And while we’re on the subject of food (which I often am), I’ve found a new cookie I like in the UK. Okay, it’s really just one of those biscuit-with-a-marshmallow-on-top-all-covered-with-chocolate cookie, but the marshmallow on the ones I like is to die for. The marshmallow is so soft it squishes, and they cookies are each wrapped individually in tin paper. I don’t have the name of them, because I threw all the papers away, but when I find them again in a store (I found them first at the Barbican Center where I saw South Pacific) , I’ll let you know.

Still speaking of food (which I’m always happy to do), I thought I’d mention some foods I found on the refrigerator door here where I’m staying and see if they’re ever part of your menu: Le Medaillon de Foie de Canard (duck liver, I think); La Terrine Forestiere Aux Morilles (mushrooms, maybe?), anchovy puree, lemon grass in sunflower oil, Morceaux de Truffles, Patum Peperium: the poacher’s relish (smoked salmon relish with lemon zest), Harrod’s brandy butter and fresh garden mint, along with, of course, an assortment of Indian and Thai curries. I’m not even sure what most of these items taste like, let alone how to cook with them! I’ve been subsisting on lamb burgers I make at home (I’ve added some of my hostess’s lamb seasoning and some tomato & red pepper relish I found in the stores here that I’ve seen used on my lamb burgers in restauarants), and Indian and pasta TV dinners (lamb rogan josh and chicken korma) from Morrisson’s grocery store, and when I want to picnic in Hyde Park, egg salad sandwiches and potato chips and cupcakes from Little Waitrose (a smaller grocery store).

I’ve seen a couple more plays since I last wrote. Journey’s End is a WWI drama without the puppet horses that were so effective in War Horse. The lead spent too much time shouting to relate the man’s agony from being on the front line of battle for too long. I think a different actor would have found another way to convey that more effectively. Still, the production was very much worth seeing and the setting–an underground bunker lit only by candles, was very effective and effecting. South Pacific at the Barbican was disappointing. It supposedly has actors in in from the Lincoln Center Production. The baritone and tenor had wonderful voices, but the staging was static–no one interacted with anyone else or with any props or scenery onstage during musical numbers–simply stood where they were or wandered back and forth across the stage alone. The staging looked very much like what you might see in a high school production.

I’ve also seen the movie Cowboys & Aliens, which I enjoyed. I hope others enjoy it and that it sparks a resurgence in Westerns–since that’s what I’m writing right now! Am working on Wyoming Bride, which is the next book in this series. Great story. I just need to get it down on paper.

We are still having lots of rain and cool weather (I’ve been wearing a sweater–outside–all summer). Hope it’s cooling down a bit wherever you are.

P.S. Here are your answers per Webster’s 11th Collegiate Dictionary: light-headed, foul tempered (not my heroine), sidestepping, grown-ups, standoff, willpower, piecrust, dishtowel (Who knew?), turnoff, cutout (as in, “his chaps had a cutout so he could make use of the buttons in his fly…), sharp voiced, windowpanes, racehorse, tailgate, brand-new, heartsore (my hero’s a widower), town house, soul shattering, stocking feet (I had this one right), half-hour (Yeah, I know, isn’t that weird?), Achilles’ heel, mucus (not a word I’ve used much in 51 romance novels…). jj

The newspapers say, “The violence, which began in Tottenham, north London on Saturday spread south and east to Brixton, Streatham, Walthanstow, Edmonton, Enfield, Oxford Circus and Islington on Sunday. By last night (Monday), further outbreaks of disorder involving hundreds of hooded yobs (their word, not sure what it means) had taken place in Hackney, Clapton, East Ham, Lewisham, Harlesden, Elephant and Castle, Ealing ,Woolwich, Notting Hill and parts of the West End. Locals accused the police of abandoning them.”

Mostly, it seems to be young men who want to loot. The newspaper writes, “In Clapham Junction, astonishing footage emerged of hundreds of masked looters running through the streets unchecked, breaking into shops such as Debenhams and stealing thousands of pounds worth of goods.” Rioters have cleaned out the local DVD and CD stores around the UK (Birmingham was next, after London) over the past few days. They’ve set fires that threatened lives. It’s reminiscent of the LA riots years ago. The police have been ineffectual in stopping the riots once they’re started–hence closing all the stores in Wimbledon Village before the riots are rumored to begin.

I went to Wimbledon Village around 1 p.m. to mail a package and do some grocery shopping, but everywhere I went, police were standing in doorways and proprietors were turning people away. I mailed my package first (post offices in London are situated in the back of local stores), and by the time I got back to Morrisson’s, one of the largest grocery stores, it was closed. The theatres (Odeon and HMV Curzon) are closed because they’re too hard to evacuate. There’s very little left open, and I suspect it will all be closed before 2 p.m. I bought some supplies at a Little Waitrose, a smaller grocery store, because I’m not sure how long this emergency will last, and hurried back home on the bus. Packs of young men are standing around on the street. Bunches of policemen are loitering along with them. I’m located far enough from downtown not to be bothered by whatever happens. (I hope!) But this is putting the kibosh on my plans to see a lot of theatre in the evenings in London, at least until things settle down.

That makes all the research on England I did a week or so ago with a friend of mine from the States all the more valuable. We took a bus trip to the Cotswolds (beautiful countryside, everything built with “golden” bricks) and fabulous, Blenheim Castle, childhood home of Winston Churchill (who was related to the Duke of Marlborough on his father’s side). Visited Canterbury Cathedral and walked the very sharp stone “Roman Wall” that once surrounded and protected Canterbury. Took a trip to the Royal Mews near Buckingham Palace and saw all the horse-drawn coaches British royalty ride in, and attended an astonishingly creative and moving play, War Horse,which I understand Steven Speilberg is making into a movie. We rode down the Thames on a riverboat from Parliament (and Big Ben) to the Tower of London and saw the Royal Halls of Justice across from Ye Olde Cock Tavern, which has been in place since the 1500′s.

traditional afternoon tea

We also met some friends of a friend of mine for lunch at The Audley, a historic tavern in Mayfair. We were then invited to that friend’s home on Grosvenor Square for “tea and cakes.” That address was the home of the Duke and (infamous) Duchess of Argyll in the 1930′s. The Duke divorced the Duchess, and to do so in those days you had to prove adultery. The Duchess, it turned out, supposedly had 88 lovers, one of the most infamous of whom (Polaroid pictures had been taken–but not of his face) was a well-known actor. The home was absolutely gorgeous, with five floors up and one down, and gave me an idea of just how elegantly Bella Benedict, Duchess of Blackthorne, should be living in the Benedict Brothers series I’m currently researching in London (next up is Unforgettable).

Yesterday I spoke for about 50 ladies at the Woodford Golf Club, which is over a hundred years old, and backs up to Epping Forest, where King Henry VIII used to hunt. I met my hostess on the Underground, when I was riding from Wimbledon to Fulham Broadway to have dinner with a friend. I was reading my Kindle and asked her to be sure I didn’t miss my stop. We started talking and I mentioned I was an author and she asked for my card. My new friend told me that after I got off the train, a gentleman standing behind us had already Googled me on his Smart Phone–which they all handed around the car. Shortly thereafter, I received an invitation to speak, which I accepted. My publisher, Random House, was kind enough to provide copies of The Cowboy, The Texan and The Loner for attendees. I talked about how I became a writer and what it’s like to live the life of a writer (lots of fun–and lots of hard work!).

I’d planned to go to the theatre to see a new production of South Pacific in the West End after I spoke, but the ladies gave me an enormous bouquet of roses and lilies and a heavy book on Epping Forest, so I decided to go straight home (approximately an hour of travel including bus, train and Underground) to put the flowers in water. In light of the news on riots in London, I realize now it turned out to be a good decision. I also have plans to see Pygmalian (with Rupert Everett), a play about WWI called Journey’s End, and a couple of other shows (As You Like It)–once I can be sure I won’t be caught in riots if I’m in the West End.

I have the copy-edited manuscript for TEXAS BRIDE in hand, so I have plenty of work to keep me busy. Will let you know when things settle down again here in London.

 The “end of the line” turned out to be full of business offices, so we slipped downstairs and took the Underground to Victoria Station.  When we came out, we had the choice of two shows:  BILLY ELLIOT or WICKED playing at theatres a block apart.  The kids (six and eight) had seen advertisements for WICKED, so I got us tickets–at 12 noon.  The show didn’t start till 2:30 and it was still raining cats and dogs, so we went to a nearby restaurant, The Giraffe, and proceeded to have a very long lunch.  At the end of it, my granddaughter had a cup of de-caf coffee with cream so thick you could have served it with a fork.  Don’t ask me why she likes coffee (I hate the stuff), but she had her cup of de-caf while I had a cup of tea.

We had nice orchestra seats in the 9th row center  (Theatres often save good seats until the last moment in case “someone important” shows up, and if you buy at the theatre the day of the show, you can often pick up some of these seats).   I’d been taking the kids to see each of the Harry Potter movies at 6:30 p.m. every weeknight at the Odeon Theatre, leading up to the final installment on Friday (the day before we went to the play).  At least once during every movie (despite having visited the facilities before the movie started), my granddaughter would need to make another trip.  This was not a problem in the movies.  It was a problem at the theater.   Imagine it’s the very end of WICKED and the two leads are singing a quiet song about how wonderful it was to have each other in their lives.  You could hear a pin drop it’s so quiet.  And my six-year-old granddaughter announces, “I have to go to the bathroom.”  She was used to being able to just get up and go.  But we are in the ninth row.   If we get up and leave, we are going to ruin the climax of the musical for the other 500 people in the theatre.  I missed most of the quiet moments trying to keep a six-year-old quiet.   All’s well that ends well.  The show ended, the facilities were visited and the kids loved the play, especially, my granddaughter announced, “the green baby.”

My second trip to the theatre came last night, when I attended the Cambridge Theatre in Covent Garden with a friend I met in the queue at Wimbledon two years ago (yes, you are in line long enough to make lifelong friends).  He managed to get tickets from a friend in the show for himself, his girlfriend, his mother and me, to see CHICAGO with Christie Brinkley playing the role  of Roxie, usually given to celebrities.  To give her credit, Brinkley did what she was supposed to do–provide an interesting name to draw people to the theatre and perform adequately on stage. She sounded very Marilyn Monroe-like (breathy and quiet), and I kept thinking they should turn her microphone volume up.  She did the minimum of dancing, but she never looked ungraceful.  She might have come off better, except the rest of the cast was absolutely superb, proving that acting and singing are harder to do than they look.   The orchestra (band?) was absolutely wonderful, and the show was as good as (or better than) what I saw on Broadway with Bebe Neuwirth a thousand years ago.

Hampton Court

One of the cloudy days, I had a chance to visit Hamptom Court Palace, home to Henry VIII, which gave me the opportunity to visit with author Meg Gardiner, a Californian who’s been living in England for many years. (Okay, pause here to describe the absolutely indescribly delicious lamb I had for lunch.  If you’re at Hampton Court palace, check out the restaurant across the street.  It’s fabulous!)  Meg also was once a lawyer.  It’s amazing how many of us lawyers have found ourselves writing novels for a living.  I haven’t counted, but there are lots, for sure.   I saw her the day before she was heading to the U.S. for a book tour, so look out for her newest novel in your local bookstores.

I’ve now lived for a month without a car or a clothes dryer (and without a clothesline to hang clothes to dry) and only a few channels on TV.  I’ve figured out how to use the bus and the Underground to get around and I do a lot of walking.  I’ve learned to shop for only as much as I can physically carry home on the bus in a couple of bags.  And I keep an eye out for rain when I drape the laundry over the lawn furniture out back.  And I don’t watch much television (I’ve read most of W.E.B. Griffin’s large library of novels instead).

Everyone here (including the Underground) is getting ready for the Olympics in London next year.  With that in mind, a LOT of the Underground stations are closed periodically so they can be “refurbished.”  This means, they’re exchanging stairs for escalators.  Two years ago when I was here, I got most of my exercise walking the several flights of stairs from the Underground to the surface.  Almost nowhere, now, will you find a place where you must use stairs.  They have left the stairs, sometimes, between two escalators (for those who want to climb?) and they’ve left the circular staircase off the Picadilly Line at Covent Garden with 193 steps from the Underground to the street (with a sign announcing how many steps it is, so you don’t get halfway up before you realize how far it is).

However,  I was the “victim” of an Underground closure for renovation this weekend.  There is NO Underground District Line service from Wimbledon this entire weekend (service will resume on part of the line Monday at 5:00 a.m.).  I’d planned to go to Notting Hill Road to do some shopping Saturday morning, which is a short trip on the District Line leading to Edgeware Road.  However, I found out there’s NO SERVICE to Edgeware Road on the District Line from July 23 (yesterday) till August 23 (a month from now).  If I want to go to Notting Hill, I’m going to have to do it on a lot of buses.

And if you’ll recall, I needed to go to Covent Garden to the theatre last night.  I did this by taking a “Rail Replacement” bus for 45 minutes to Earl’s Court and then catching the Picadilly Line to Covent Garden–and doing the reverse on the way home.  It will be nice when all the Underground stations have escalators, and reallly, the “Rail Replacement” buses are FREE and run every five minutes, so how can I complain?  Except, I never made it to Notting Hill yesterday.  Will have to try another day when I get up earlier and leave more time for bus travel.

I have more company coming on Thursday and we’ll be doing some traveling around England where I can do more research for upcoming novels.  Can’t wait!
Hope you are all well and enjoying your (sunny?  warm?  excruciatingly hot?) summer!

Wimbledon has come and gone and I was delighted to see Petra Kvitova win the Ladies’ Championship against Maria Sharapova and Novak Djokovic beat Rafael Nadal in the Gentlemen’s Championship. Based on play I saw leading up to Wimbledon on the Tennis Channel, and on play I saw myself at Wimbledon, I had “picked” both the winners at the quarterfinal stage. My daughter Heather and I had seats right along the service line (but high up) at Centre Court for the Ladies’ Championship, so I had a chance to see how both women served, which was a great experience. One of the things this championship taught me is the importance of the mental element of any competition.

Twenty-four-year-old Maria Sharapova, who won Wimbledon at age seventeen, “shrieks and whacks”–which is to say, her (irritating) shriek when she hits the ball “frightens” her opponent with the intensity with which she hits the ball, and she does, in fact, at 6’2″, strike the ball very hard, forcing her opponents to back up so far to return the ball that it usually ends up in the net. Even though Maria has had as many as ten double faults (failure to get the ball in the service box on the serve in two tries) in a single match leading up to the final, she was able to “intimdate” other players off the court. Another “psychological” thing Maria does is turn her back on her opponent after each point, supposedly to “compose” herself and think about the next shot, usually leaving the other player standing at the service line waiting to serve, staring at Maria’s intimidating back.

In the final match on Centre Court, none of those “psychological ploys” worked against her opponent, Petra Kvitova. Twenty-one-year-old Petra is, herself, 6’1″ tall. She’s also heavier than Maria and hits harder than Maria. So when Maria would shriek and strike the ball, Petra would hit it back even harder than it was hit to her–leaving Maria backing up. When Maria was busy showing Petra her back, Petra didn’t see it, because Petra was at the back of the court wiping off her face with a towel. Usually, it was Maria who ended up doing the waiting. Petra has a little bark, like a Chihauhua, after she hits a “winner”. What was interesting about this match was there were very few “barks.” That is to say, Petra had very few actual winners–a shot that was unreturnable. Usually, she won because Maria hit the ball into the net or out of bounds–or double-faulted.

Women’s tennis has been in kind of flux because the #1 player, Caroline Wozniacki, has never won one of the “Grand Slams” (big tournaments). She’s become #1 based on consistency of play over many tournaments. It will be fascinating to see whether Petra Kvitova can continue to win big tournaments and perhaps become #1. Her play on Centre Court was certainly impressive.

Novak Djokovic had already replaced Roger Federer as the #2 player in the world before he ever got to Wimbledon. On Monday he replaced Rafa Nadal as the #1 male tennis player in the world, simply by reaching the final match (and winning 47 of his 48 matches during the year to date–he lost only to Roger Federer in the semi-final at Roland Garros). Novak not only became the #1 player in the world, he also beat Rafa in the final to win Wimbledon. Novak is incredibly athletic, but he didn’t begin to challenge the #1 & 2 players in the world until he BELIEVED he could beat them. Rafa lost to Djokovic at Wimbledon partly because Novak had beaten him in four previous tournament finals (including two on clay) this year. Rafa made uncharacteristic unforced errors in the Wimbledon final that may have been due to his belief that Novak COULD beat him (since he had done so four times in finals already this year). It was exciting to watch Novak’s childhood dreams–winning at Wimbledon and becoming the #1 player in the world–all happening within a period of THREE DAYS.

Belief in your ability to accomplish something (both players being equally athletic & capable) therefore seems to be a big part of accomplishing that objective. It will be fascinating to watch what happens between Novak & Rafa in the rest of the tennis season.

Apropos of nothing whatever, I confess I’ve eaten at both McDonald’s and Burger King in the few weeks I’ve been in London. I wanted to see how they compare to their American counterparts (not badly). Besides, it’s one place you can be sure to get ice in your Diet Coke!

Wimbledon Village turns out to have not only a large Odeon theatre with first-run movies, but also an “art house” where you can see independent films. Anyone who knows me, knows I go to the movies every Friday (to prove I don’t have a “real” job), and here in London has been no exception. However, there’s a dearth of good movies out lately. I want someone to explain to me how the Transformer movies have been so successful. I just don’t get it. I find it impossible to be emotionally invested in the well-being of machines. I felt sorry for the actor who was forced to produce tears when his machine’s “life” was threatened.

While we’re on the subject of things I don’t understand, someone explain “modern” art to me. I visited the Tate Modern (art museum) in London where they have original works by Matisse and Jackson Pollock and other artists that I’m sure are well-known that I’m not familiar with who produce art that looks like it was done by a three-year-old. Some of what I saw not only was incomprehensible in terms of artistic value, but was just plain UGLY. I got a visceral response, all right. UGH. I wonder if one of the critics who has chosen these works as great examples of “art” could REALLY tell if I gave them something and told them it was “art” by someone famous, that it wasn’t by that famous person. I remember seeing on TV, someone put up three Jackson Pollock-type “splatter-paint” works of art on a screen and asking the audience to pick the one by the “real” artist–Jackson Pollock. NO ONE DID. They all picked the work that was most pleasing to the eye–rather than the one that was “art.” The art critic commenced to explain the “energy” in the paint splatters by Jackson Pollock. What, there was no “energy” in the attractive (colorful) painting? I think it must be true of art, as with literature, that enjoyment is in the “eye of the beholder.”

I also had a chance this week to take a ride on the LONDON EYE, which is the giant ferris wheel-type contraption down by the River Thames that is high enough to show a view of everything in London. We (my daughter, son-in-law & two grandkids and I) ended up paying for “Fast Tract” passes (31 pounds) because I didn’t see the opportunity to get regular (8 pound) passes on-line–and then we went so early we were practically the only people there on July 4. Nice way to celebrate the Fourth of July–but I missed the fireworks and the picnic and the fun of celebrating the holiday with friends. Hope you all had a wonderful time!

I’m writing my reflections on the Wimbledon Ball—an Alice In wonderland Summer Garden Party—now, a little after midnight, so I won’t forget! We were greeted by Tweedle Dum & Tweedle Dee, who stood on each other’s shoulders.  The band (violin etc. etc.) at the entrance were dressed in Mad Hatter type hats.  Flamingos and mirror balls decorated the entrance, but I walked in the other direction toward the formal gardens—the Hurlingham Club in Ranelagh Gardens has enormous croquet greens, and bowling greens and grass tennis courts.  I met Hanna Tiller, who belongs to the club and just came there to walk in the garden.  She told me it takes about 15 years to become a member.

We were given the option of drinking Pimm’s in teacups (with refills from teapots), or kir with berries, or champagne in flutes.  I chose the Pimm’s, since I hadn’t had one yet while I’ve been here.  We were so lucky the weather was warm and dry.

Appetizers were salmon and pate de fois gras and sushi and stilton cheese cut in diamonds and clubs and hearts and spades.

I met several ladies with the All England Tennis Club (who sponsor the Wimbledon matches) who told me it’s coincidental that there were tickets available this year.  I should buy a lotto ticket, I’ve been so lucky!

At dinner I sat with a banker and a soldier in the army who met on-line playing chess.  On the opposite site of me were a young man and woman who set up events for BNP Paribas, the bank that sponsors several tennis tournaments around the world.

Supper was lamb—what else?—with a few potatoes, leeks and carrots.  Dessert was various pastries shaped like hearts diamonds, spades & clubs.  Of course we had our choice of white or red wine and sparkling or still water with dinner.

The table centerpieces were enormous flowers made of mesh fabric stretched over wire—very neat!  Of course, you couldn’t see to the other side of the table, but you can never talk to those people anyway!

After dinner, everyone in their tuxes (and kilts! And plaid trousers with cumberbunds!) and long evening dresses went outside to ride in BUMPER CARS (I kid you not) set up outside the ballroom.  I’d never ridden in a bumper car, although I’ve always wanted to.  So now I have.  Much fun!

Inside a DJ was playing music so folks could dance until 2:00 a.m. when “carriages” would be available.  Think CAB.  By the way, it cost for a cab to get there and back, almost half what it cost for the ball itself.  But I wouldn’t have missed it!

Oh, forgot that on the edge of the dance floor, two dozen dishes of different kinds of candy had been set up, with paper bags so you can “fill your own.”  You’d think all those grownups were 10, and couldn’t buy their own candy, the way they crowded around.

Of course, I brought a bag home with me (there goes the diet…) along with a couple of large, multi-colored suckers that were labeled with our names to show our places at the table.  The menu, by the way, was listed on a red queen of hearts card.  So there it is.  Met a bunch of nice folks, had some great drinks, good food, relaxing evening and a little excitement at the Wimbledon Ball.

June 27

I went to London on the Underground yesterday, just to see a movie and to “get out of town.”  There’s no tennis on the “middle Sunday” at Wimbledon.  I saw THE BEAVER with Mel Gibson, which I thought was pretty good–a look at how depression affects an entire family, and how difficult it is to fight it alone.

Sunday is the “dark” day at live theatre venues in England, so I just enjoyed my day in the city and came home with a brochure showing all the great shows I hope to get to see over the summer.

June 28

Big VERY HOT day at Wimbledon today—which I avoided by staying home and watching on the 6 Wimbledon screens available on TV.  The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (Will & Kate) were on Centre Court to see Andy Murray beat R. Gasquet.  Also saw Djokovic beat someone not in the same league with him.  Saw Wozniacki (#1 player) get beat by Cibulkova (#24 player) who played absolutely amazing tennis, saw Serena Williams (#7 player)who wasn’t playing well get beat by Marion Bartoli (#?) who was playing great, saw Venus Williams (#23 player) not playing well get beat by Kironkova (you never heard of her, but she beat Venus at Wimbledon last year at the same time in the same round by virtually the same score).  I was pretty sure Venus would lose once Serena did, so the family could head home…

Right now, I’m waiting for my Bangers & Mash (sausage & mashed potatoes) to cook in the microwave, which is going to be my quiet dinner while I watch Nadal and Del Potro play on Centre Court.  After a very hot day, rain is threatening, but they’ve left the roof open…for now.

I’m enjoying the time to chill out (poor choice of words, considering the 90 degree heat today) during this last week of Wimbledon before I start to work on WYOMING BRIDE.

Met up with a friend tonight for dinner at the Butcher’s Hook at the Fulham Broadway tube stop, which is about a ten-minute Underground ride from Wimbleon.  Lots of atmosphere—butcher’s block tables and of course—both lamb and duck.  I chose the duck confit, which was delicious!

June 29

Spent the day at Wimbledon at Centre Court, thanks to a ticket from my friend. I got there early enough to watch part of an “invitational” doubles match between Martina Navratilova and Jana Novotna vs. a Czech team.  Martina was fun and funny, clowning with the audience, so you knew she’d done a lot of matches where the tennis was more about entertaining than winning (although I’m sure she wanted to win!).  She stretched out for a shot, lost her balance and then just lay down on the court, arms outstretched.  When she came up, she said, “So much for diving for the ball!”

At Centre Court, Federer somehow LOST to Jo-Wilfred Tsonga.  That was very strange.  Federer was two sets up when Tsonga caught fire.  Even Tsonga found it hard to believe he’d won!  Also watched the Murray vs. Lopez match, which was not very competitive.  Djokovic had a harder time with Tomic (only eighteen!) than he expected to have, while Nadal managed to defeat Mardy Fish.  It was a really lovely day–weather in the 70s and mostly sunny.  I think there are a million steps in London and half of them are at Wimbledon.  I got a good workout while I watched tennis.

Visited the ladies I met at the Wimbledon Ball who work for the AELTC—All England Lawn Tennis & Croquet Club—above the Wimbledon Museum.  Very nice ladies!

June 30

Missed going to a party last night I was invited to by BBC Correspondent Humphrey Hawksley because I didn’t check phone messages.  Won’t make that mistake again!

Believe it or not, I’ve gotten an invitation to speak at a London golf club from a lady I met on the Underground.  I’ve agreed to do it.  Should be fun!

Today I’m doing laundry (because it’s sunny and there’s no dryer here and I have to hang things outside to dry), and catching up on sleep.  In the weeks before I came here I was too busy writing to read.  Now I’m doing some of the reading I promised myself, mostly W.E.B. Griffin war novels.  Unfortunately, I don’t want to put the book down, so I end up reading till 2 or 3 in the morning.  The sun comes up here around 4:00 so I don’t manage to sleep much past 6:30 or 7:00—which, of course, leads to sleep deprivation.  Just need a nap, I think.

Toyed with taking the train to Henley on Thames for the Oxford vs. Cambridge boat races today–especially since it’s sunny, but laundry and sleep won out.  So much for the glamorous life of an author in London…

Men in England have a serious problem.  It’s called “premature” perspiration!  This condition arises whenever a man sees a beautiful woman across a bar, or licking an ice cream or holding a pair of bikini panties at the laundromat. Before three days ago I’d never heard of “premature” perspiration–which seems suspiciously likened to “premature” ejaculation in the British TV ads I’ve seen.  But it’s clear, from the three underarm deodorant ads I saw in one hour from three different companies, that men in England must worry a great deal about how they smell.  I’ve only seen one corresponding ad for women, but British women are warned that unless they use a particular product they will–gasp!–SWEAT!  I find it interesting that the feminine word is used to threaten men and the masculine one to threaten women.

I’ve already been to Wimbledon twice, once with my friend Gabriel Byrne from Ireland (no relation to the movie star) and once a couple of days later with tickets I got from the British Lawn Tennis Association (by calling the “morning of” and asking).  Weather here is more typical of London–cold and wet–as opposed to how it was the past two years I was here–hot and dry.  I didn’t bring a lot of “warm weather” clothing, so I’m often dressed in layers–shirt, sweater, sweatshirt and rain jacket. Thank goodness I brought the rain jacket!

I’ve already managed to have duck with cherry sauce and lamb shanks since I arrived in London.  Those of you who know me know I love both and don’t get enough of either in the States.  I start the day with muesli, Greek yogurt, milk and raspberries or blackberries, which are bigger and tastier here in England.  I’ve been grabbing an egg sandwich with sprouts for lunch and eating dinner out at one of the local restaurants.  At least that was the plan until I found a huge selection of Indian food in the frozen food section of the local grocery store.  I love Indian food, too, and there are a lot of Indian restaurants here in London.  Will see how the “frozen” compares with the “fresh” over the next couple of weeks.  I know when it’s raining outside (which it has done every day since I got here) I’ll be happy to stay home and cook something Indian on the microwave.

I bought eggs yesterday and discovered they’re still covered with chicken feathers.  Guess we’re spoiled in the States, having eggs that have been washed before they reach the store.  I had trouble recognizing the multivitamins I bought because they were so inexpensive–60 for about $2.00.  And yes, I’ve bought clotted cream and put it on fluffy croissants with the most amazing raspberry jelly.  The cream in my tea really is CREAM–so thick you could almost eat it with a fork.

I’ve already been to two movies (catching up, because I was finishing TEXAS BRIDE before I left home and didn’t have time to go to the movies on Friday, as I usually do).  Saw GREEN LANTERN, which is not great but good, and BAD TEACHER, which is, indeed, bad.

Going to the theatre was an experience.  First, the British have a pin number required for all credit card purchases.  This proved to be a challenge for the theatre cashier, because my American VISA does not have a pin.  Two managers had to be called before I could pay.  Second, seats are assigned–you have to choose which seat you’re going to sit in before you go in.  However, the theatre was so empty, I don’t suppose there would have been a problem if I sat somewhere else.  Third, you have to choose between “sweet” and “salty” popcorn–that is between carmel popcorn and regular popcorn.  Fourth, despite having asked for ice with my drink, it came without any.  “But it’s cold,” the boy behind the counter assured me.  “I know,” I replied, but it won’t be in an hour without any ice.  Could I have some ice, please?”  He had to leave the counter to get some ice–there is none at the counter.  The British simply don’t use ice in their drinks.  You must ask for it.  I had a good example of this on my British Airways flight to London where the steward had approximately two cups of crushed ice available for the entire business class section of the plane.  He gave me an extra tablespoon of ice with my drink because I begged for it.

I’m supposed to be resting my ankle and knee from the six tennis matches I played in the two weeks before I left home (I want to move up a level in the fall and needed to play matches to prove I deserve to do so–won five, lost one).  However, I’m sleeping on the third floor of the house, so I spend a lot of time going up and down here, and London is a place where everywhere you go there are stairs–and often no working elevator or escalator.  I’m countering all that exercise by sitting with my stocking feet up on the couch with a wool blanket watching tennis on TV.

Speaking of which, there is the option on BBC1 of watching any of four or five or six matches at any one time.  You simply push the blue button on your remote, choose which of the games you want to watch and watch that game.  Whenever you want to switch, you go to another game.  Believe me, that’s a lovely alternative to the rain, cold and crowds of actually being at Wimbledon.

On the other hand, there’s also nothing like sitting in the front row watching John Isner serve not ten feet away from him–which I did on Monday.  I hope some of the great tennis I’ve seen is going to help me be a better player.  I’ve had a dutchee (sausage on a bun) and strawberries & cream at Wimbledon, but still haven’t had a Pim’s (similar to the Mint Julep at the Kentucky Derby)–it’s just been too cold for a cold drink.

I’m starting WYOMING BRIDE, the next book in my Mail Order Bride series while I’m here, writing in the morning before the tennis starts (at 12:00 for outer courts and 1:00 for “pay” courts).  Which means it’s about time to go turn on the TV and relax with my feet up watching tennis.

I’m headed to the Wimbledon Ball tonight.  Will let you know how that turns out…

Take care,

Joan