Lisa Hendrix

Did you know that the low hanging, large, reddish moon that would be called a Harvest Moon in late September/Early October is called a Strawberry Moon when it happens near the solstice? 

The summer solstice was yesterday, June 20, at 7:59 PM EDT, so I thought I’d do a quick roundup of  ways some folks mark this longest day of the year.

Traditional

Flowers: Gathering nine different types of flowers and placing them under your pillow on the solstice is supposed to make you dream of the person you will marry. Nine is a number sacred to the old Nordic and Saxon gods (which is why there are nine Vikings in my crew of Immortal Warriors.)

Weddings: Druids celebrated the summer solstice as a marriage of heaven and earth, which is why June is the month for weddings

Bonfires.  In Cornwall in the old days, every peak and hall glowed with light on Midsummer Eve as the fires begged the sun not to retreat into winters darkness.

Spirals:  Ancient solar dances would spiral in to the center and back out again, representing the path of the sun.

Herbs: Practioners of herbal magic believe that herbs gathered at the solstice are imbued with extra potency.

Stones: Tracking the sun was immensely important to early people, so they knew when to plant and harvest and when to honor their gods—so important that they would spend years building what amounted to giant stone calendars. Stonehenge is the most famous of these, but Machu Pichu, New Grange, the Sun Dagger of Chaco Canyon, and dozens of other stone sites around the world served the same function.

Modern

Parades: Seattle’s Fremont District (The Center of the Universe) holds a fair and a wild parade to celebrate the solstice and the amazing energy of the neighborhood. 

Nativity of St. John the Baptist:  This Christianized version of the solstice marks the birth of this important saint (unlike most feast days, which celebrate the martyrdom of the saint).  Particularly important in northern and eastern Europe and the celtic countries (where the solstice was also key), it is one of the most solemn of Catholic holy days, even celebrated when it falls on a Sunday (also not typical for a saint’s day).

Picnics and Bonfires: In Denmark and other countries, Midsummer is marked by spending much of the day outside, ending with a nice bonfire on the beach.

Stones: In the tradition of the great ancient builders, my husband recently put the item “Stonehenge” on the whiteboard that his team uses to keep track of projects at work.  Yesterday, he assembled his personal mini-Stonehenge kit (carefully aligned, of course) and crossed the item off the list. No one noticed. Sigh.

He intends to do it again in December anyway.

How do you celebrate Midsummer?

First, there is water on Mars. (Link to Wired article with nice image showing ice chunks subliming.)

Second, the Smithsonian now has their photograph collection up on Flickr Commons, with all photos hi-res and tagged as “No known copyright restrictions.” (Link)

Things like this give me hope. 

My friend and one-time critique partner, R. Scott Shanks, Jr., has been having some frustrations getting his website up and running, so he decided to post to his blog, instead.  Click the link. Read. Enjoy. Remember that he wrote the following in a timespan of approximately 17 minutes, and know that he is a far better writer than I—than almost anyone—and some agent should make a fortune off him when he finishes his book. 

( In an effort to distance myself from my ire, I pulled out the Majency Oracle and asked Shannon for a number. She quoth: 72, so that was the card I selected as a writing prompt. Thus: )

That’s us out there.

The Earth and the moon, as seen from Mars.

Image acquired on 10/03/2007, by the HiRISE camera on NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter.

I have a couple of Google Alerts set up to let me know when references to my books appear on-line. So far, most of the references to Immortal Warrior I receive have something to do with World of Warcraft or some other computer or online game. I hit delete and they’re gone

This morning, however, I got a notice about a YouTube video titled “manowar Hymn of the Immortal Warrior.”  Curious, I clicked.

For those who don’t know, Manowar (NOT pictured at left) is a heavy metal band. They lean toward fantasy, steel, leather, swords, and lyrics that include the words Valhalla, Odin, and death. And they’re outsiders in many ways, kind of the Grateful Dead of metal. In other words, a band my warriors might approve of. 

I am so glad I clicked.

I liked it. I liked it a lot. I liked the slightly cheesy pageantry. I liked the fact that every oddly-costumed metalhead in the crowd knew the lyrics and sang along like it was their anthem.  I liked the accurately dressed Viking warriors who came on to act out the death of a brave warrior.  I liked it even though I generally loathe heavy metal (on mornings when I wouldn’t get up, my first husband used to crank up the metal on the stereo because he knew I’d come flying out of bed to smack the power button. And that’s when I was 19.  Don’t even ask what I’d do now).

I liked it so much that I’ve imbedded the video at the top of my Links page.  I hope you’ll go take a look, expand  your horizons a bit. Don’t worry, it’s safe; I checked out the written lyrics, just to be sure. (Manowar’s site is a different matter—they are heavy metal rockers, after all—so be aware.)

I also looked up Manowar on Wikipedia. Seems these guys control their whole operation, from recording to distribution to merchandising. But what really tickled me (see why) is that one of their merchandising efforts is condoms, sold on their website (and presumably at their concerts), among the lanyards and jammers and T-shirts (under Merchandise/Special on their site, if you want to look).

Their brand name?  Warrior’s Shield.

I can’t help but think my guys would approve of that, too.

On one of the reader-oriented email lists I’m on, the group moderator (who is brilliant at starting up good discussions) recently asked what everyone thought about condoms in romance novels. She wanted to know whether the failure to address some realistic approach to birth/disease control makes a book a wallbanger or whether the mere mention of such things destroys the fantasy for which many of us read romance. As an author, I followed the discussion with great interest; even though I’m writing historicals right now, I have written contemporary romances in the past (which showed condom use, btw) and surely will again. So what, I wondered, do readers want?

As you can imagine, there were strong opinions in both camps, with one or two people quite vehement that condoms interfered with enjoyment both in books and in real life. 

But one woman came down on the other side, and did it with such clarity and passion and good humor that I asked if I could post part of her response here. She kindly gave permission, so here, from romsfuulynn:

It seems to me that condoms are part of the play, the overall experience, and part of life. Sex can involve accidental hair pulling, muscle cramps in legs, arms, etc, books that got cast aside poking someone with a sharp corner or pinching people in a bad place, falling off or almost falling of the bed (or desk or kitchen counter, or what have you), champagne, beer, coke, milk, ice water or what have you getting tipped over and flooding the field of play (it’s COLD and WET), scratchy surfaces, hard surfaces, beard burn, leg hair scratchiness, other shaved area scratchiness, chafing of almost anything, rug burn, insect bites, sand in unfortunate places, children knocking at the door, phones ringing, doors you didn’t lock, object supporting activity being insufficiently sturdy and breaking, creaking, squeaking. Not to mention being very pregnant or recently post partum.

At least I’ve never had a gun go off like one of Jenny Crusie’s heroines did.

Sex beats no sex. Hands down. (Although hands can be a lot of fun too.) Condoms are the least of it.

Yes, maybe no condom is better for a guy, but that’s life and over time, it all works out. For me, fictional sex should reflect the absurdity of life and the power sex has to overcome distractions. I don’t particularly like sex that is portrayed as dreamy or perfect - sex is better than being merely perfect, it is overwhelming.

Or maybe it’s just my husband. . .

Lucky woman. She’s been married 35 years.

What do you think?  Can a love scene that uses a condom still be romantic?  Share your thoughts on romance and real life. (Keep your language clean, please. Children may be present)

…and I cannnot tell you how pleased I am with it.  The initial idea came from my editor, and then the terrific Art Department at Berkley put it all together. Between them, they’ve captured the feel of the story perfectly.

This is always the most exciting part of the process for me, next to the day the finished book lands in my hand.  It used to be that we never saw the art until we got the cover flat. Now we get preliminary artwork, then the finished covers, via email.  We still get the actual cover flats, which are front, back, and spine printed all on one sheet, with a fold-over that includes information for the sales reps to use (quotes, reviews, previous sales info, etc.). But although it’s fun—and useful—to have them, the thrill comes when you first get to see the art with the title font and how they’ve put it all together.

And honestly, is this young man a hunk, or what? To get a better look at that six-pack,  check out a larger version here.

Yesterday I received an email from a new fan who had discovered Runaway Bay on her bookshelf (she’s not sure how it got there) and enjoyed it.  I answered, of course, and we traded a couple of rounds of email.  Then, yesterday afternoon, she sent me this:

This is Abigail.  Here’s what her mother had to say:

I know this looks like a staged photo but what makes it so great is that it absolutely is not. I had your book on the table and she picked it up. I thought it was rather serendipitous that the same day I correspond with you my daughter gives me this unexpected opportunity for a great photo. 

Now you have photographic proof that your writing appeals to all ages. I think I will keep her away from the love scenes for as long as I can though. I promise to stop crowding your email, this pic was just too cute to keep to myself. 

Okay, I know she should be reading Pat the Bunny, but I can’t help grinning like a fool.  Thanks to her mom, Brooke, for giving me permission to post.

I don’t know how it came up today, but I was thinking about how eyes get described in romance novels.  They’re seldom plain blue or grey.  They’re azure, or cornflower or stone or pewter.  So my brain went off on a tangent (as it often does), and I googled eye colors.  Not much, other than articles on genetics, like this one from Discover. But then I hit Images, and there they were.  So I collected some example photos of unusual eye colors and hereby present them for your perusal.  Yep, there really are people with eyes the color of a tropical lagoon, old terracotta, or a cadet’s jacket.

(bottom photo credit — Discover Magazine online)

Okay, so I resisted.

I have adored Pierce Brosnan since his Remington Steele days. I knew he was meant to be Bond from the instant I saw him, and I celebrated when he was signed and mourned when he had to give up the role to Timothy Dalton because other Steele fans wanted a nice, tidy (and ultimately flat) wrap up to the series. However, when I saw what they did to those Bond scripts, I was actually glad Brosnan didn’t get stuck with the politically correct, safe-sex Bond of the late 80s. Face it, no one could have made those into Bond classics and my boy would’ve been dipped in the stink.

After a time, things spun back around and there sat Pierce in the wings, devastating in a tux, and all ready to make the role his own. Hot damn. I looked forward to a scrumptiously long run of PB as JB.

So when the Broccolis that Be cut his run short and announced that blond Daniel Craig would play Bond in the remake of Casino Royale, I once more mourned. More than that, I boycotted. Refused to contemplate even the remotest possibility he could be a good Bond. (I mean, really, a blond!?) Never saw the movie in the theater (one of the few I didn’t see on the big screen). But my hubby got a copy of Casino Royale for his birthday this week, and he wanted to watch it with me this afternoon. I adore my husband even more than I do Pierce, so I watched.

I was wrong.

Part of it was the script, fully true to the spirit of Sir Ian Fleming’s books (unlike the gimmick-bloated scripts that have been the trademark of the series). It always helps when the script is right, and this one is right in so many ways. But part of it was Daniel Craig: Rugged. Dangerous. Tender. With eyes that have seen too much. Bond to his very soul.

I still adore Pierce. Shoot, how could I give him up when I even used him as the model for my hero in To Marry an Irish Rogue. I even had my agent send him a copy, hoping his production company would option it for him to do. I will most definitely go to Mama Mia when it opens July 18.

But Daniel Craig is Bond. James Bond.

I’m late to the party, but boy, am I happy to be here.

How about you? Who’s your favorite Bond? What about your favorite Bond movie? Answer in comments — I’ll tabulate answers and post them at a later date.