This is Raven. I’m a newbie here, although I’ve been around a while. (No rude replies, thank you, I’ve heard them all before.)
I thought maybe I’d best introduce myself, though it’s a bit like pulling hen’s teeth. I never know what to say.
So, I’m a refusing to grow old gracefully, wife, mum and granny. I live in Scotland with my lovely Dh and millions of midges. The former I love the latter I hate—even more than liver and tripe and that’s saying something.
We live on the edge of a forest where I have fantastic opportunities to procrastinate. Usually when the family of pheasants that live around here somewhere come up to the study window and stare in at me. Or I answer the door and assure the people there, that contrary to whatever their sat-nav says I’m not the local bed and breakfast establishment. If I had a pound for every time I’ve said that I’d be writing on a beach in Barbados, and ogling… er studying the ahem scenery.
Instead I’m sitting in my study and looking at the rain. With shh the fire on.
But I am writing…honestly.
At the moment I’m trying to be disciplined. No, not that sort of disciplined. I’m doing my best to ignore the voices in my head shouting “write me, psst, write me” and write what I have to.
Luckily I’m enjoying it, and I do deviate—deviate not deviant—when I need to. Hence, although I’m writing a Regency for Carina, which is contracted, and will be published in January, I do sneak off to play with other things.
That wee play around has brought me three nice short stories. The Contract, (out now, from Evernight Publishing) and two more out this month—The Rock Star’s Wife and The Racing Driver’s Wife. Plus a rerelease of an oldie. (updated and revised) Taken Identity, from Totally Bound
Someone once asked me to categorise what I write. I think I looked at them blankly for a minute and said, “whatever my characters tell me.”
It’s true, I write everything from sort of sweet romance to quite hot. I have heroes and heroines form 1800 to today, and from vampires and shifters to humans, who do nothing more unusually than practise wax play—or read a book.
And I do it as my profession and my passion.
I don’t half feel lucky.
And now I’m a Dirty Birdie. What more could I ask for? Well okay a NYT best seller and Johnny Depp dipped in chocolate, but hey ho.
See you all again soon,
Love R x