by SB Sarah • Sunday, April 20, 2008 at 11:36 AM
Yesterday I went from wings and chiffon and a line for the breakfast buffet that was 1400 people long, to a dinner table for 1400 with matzo and wine and references to oppression and an obligation to recline and relax and celebrate. As I was sitting at the longest damn table I’ve ever seen, it occurred to me - seder is one hell of an effort for my inlaws, and that effort is one reason why I left RT early and rushed home to then travel upstate for Passover dinner. That effort, and my acknowledging that effort, is important, and worth - almost - missing the opportunity to have Fabio graze MY left boob (scroll down on the right).
The same can be said of RT. A convention of that size is definitely the results of many, many sleepless hours on the part of the convention staff, from the people who stuffed bags at the last minute to those who opened the doors a bit early so people who were disabled could find a seat nearer to the doors. Someone was hanging that purple sparkly fabric all over the room, and the person who took that effort made the entire venue seem more special, and I noticed that effort. I’m sure other convention attendees noticed too - just like they noticed the ceiling decorations and light effects at the underwater faery ball, the table-scape decorations at the Vampire ball that would have made Sandra Lee proud, and the combined glitz and ongepotchket that communicated one thing: there is no one guest of honor. It’s not a bat mitzvah, or a wedding, or a quince-gone-wild. All this crazy is for each and every one of the folks dressing up and gettin’ down. That’s a lot of effort to make 1500 romance readers feel special.
While I didn’t entirely get on board with each and every moment of the RT wings-and-teeth-o-rama, the effort that went into the convention deserves acknowledgment, just like my mother in law setting a table for 25. So to all the convention staff who didn’t sleep much this week: thank you.
by SB Sarah • Friday, June 20, 2008 at 07:04 AM
Happy Friday! Have some links for fun and profit. If you figure out the profit thing, lemme know.
From Elizabeth: an older post from Mark Sarvas’ blog: the many many kinds of lit. I’m partial to “Clique lit” (when friends of bestselling authors write books) and “Flick lit” (novels optimized for film adaptation). But “Frick Lit” and “Tick Lit” made me snort diet Pepsi up my nose.
Elizabeth’s email was made 23% more awesome by the following true story:
Do what I do ... Launch your own guerrilla marketing campaign! Take a salaciously-covered book you’ve already read to a public place—for extra thrills, go somewhere slightly inappropriate—and visibly and conspicuously read the last few pages (e.g. let your eyes get big, give a satisfied sigh.)
Then, pretend to call someone on your cell phone and improv something along the lines of the following ...
For modest misses: “Sheila? Yes, you’re right! NAME OF BOOK was great. Totally not what I expected. Very romantic. Also, touching and poignant. I’m so glad I tried something new. Wait, I’ve got another call ... Hello? Oh, right! Yes, I’m on my way!”
or ...
For crazy batshit misses: “Sheila? Yes, you’re right! NAME OF BOOK was great. So romantic ... and totally hot. The sex was awesome. I loved the part in the bathtub. No, the other part in the bathtub. Wait, someone’s calling. Oh, it’s Tristan. I’m supposed to meet him later. I’m so glad I read that book, because now I’m totally ready to go. Yeah, ha ha. Bye ... Hello? Hi Tristan ...”
At the end of either little speech, LEAVE THE BOOK and run out, as if in a hurry. Then hide and watch someone, furtively, pick it up. Another convert!
I HAVE DONE THIS. I kid you not.
Terri sent me a link to something I’d never seen before - the Phaze Publishing ratings, complete with icons. As Terri pointed out, the icon for “anal” is a hoot. It’s so saucy and cute - but what killd me ded was “Gore (not Al)”. Clearly, Phaze has missed the boat on Al Gore erotica. I can think of plenty of convenient truths to explore with Big Al.
But what about the icons for the more adventurous forms of erotic romance, like hemipene heroes with double the wang? Heroines with conditions that require the sex and the orgasm four times a day or else she’ll diiiiiie? Need more icons, please!
Moving on: I am such a sucker for lists. When VH1 or E! has a list of the 100 most bizarre celebrity shoes, I am transfixed and can’t change the damn channel. But this list of the 50 worst sex scenes in cinema?OMG WITH VIDEOS? Seriously? Most of these gave me a major case of the squicks. I can read the purplest of prose with many a purple turgid member aching with need, but some of these give me the gibblies. Not in a good way. Many of them are visual depictions of rape - though what they called the 50th worst I thought was rather funny, in and out of context. Thanks for the link, though, Rebyj. It made me appreciate even more some of the most well written sex scenes I’ve read.
Thanks to the many, MANY readers who forwarded me this link, one that makes me fear for the footwear of the girl babies who hang out with Baba: Heelarious hot pink heels for babies. And to think, I used to worry that Robees were prohibitively expensive.
And finally, a small taste of what it’s like in The House of Sarah.
Sarah: Hey, I got a book in the mail today!
Hubby: Cool. What’s it about?
Sarah: Some guy who is a Lord of the Satyr.
Hubby: *really excited* Seriously?
Sarah: *confused* Yeah. He’s some Lord of Satyr. I haven’t read it yet.
Hubby: Lemme see!
Sarah: *hands book over*
Hubby: Oh! Never mind.
Sarah: What?
Hubby: I thought you said “Lord of the Seder.”
Sarah: What, like, “I’m the Lord of Passover. Give me hot sex and a cracker?”
Hubby: Sure. That’d be great!
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