—Bronwyn Jameson
www.bronwynjameson.com
The Harlequin Parties
#12
When I first started thinking of writing this blog, I figured it would be easy to pick one defining Harlequin moment that stood out against all others.
Boy, was I wrong!
But here’s one that I’ll never forget: the Black and White Ball at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City exceeded my wildest expectations of the infamous Harlequin parties at Romance Writers of America National Conference! Let’s just say I felt like Cinderella at the Ball. Sigh. I still get goosebumps thinking about it.
—Carrie Weaver
www.carrieweaver.com
#13
Of course, my first sale was a mind-blowing moment, but I will also never forget my first dose of star treatment…the annual Harlequin party at RWA’s national conference. I sold my first book to Superromance on July 6, 2005, just three weeks before RWA that year. So picture me in Reno…I’m still floating from The Call. It’s my first conference ever, and I’m there wearing my pink first sale ribbon, taking workshops from New York Times bestsellers, meeting my online writing friends for drinks and getting caught up - basically I’m having the time of my life.
Friday evening we arrive at the hotel where the party is and walk in to an amazing set up. Dim room, disco ball, music pulsing. Bars around the room with free-flowing drinks, a sinful, gourmet chocolate bar, and hundreds of people in sparkles, straps and heels. I soon find my new friends from Supers, Kay Stockham and Suzanne Cox.
Not fifteen minutes later, the dance floor is overflowing with mostly women and a random y-chromosome here and there.
I remember spotting Nora Roberts at a table with her friends (celebrity sighting!) and later, sharing the dance floor with Nora herself. (I was technically across the floor from her. With my friends. She was with hers. But we were dancing together.)
I remember taking a moment and looking around at all the people, thinking, these people are all published authors. How cool is that? And even cooler, I’m now one of them!
—Amy Knupp
www.amyknupp.com
#14
Okay, so I’m at the 2003 Romance Writers of America conference that was held in New York City, and pretty much spent the entire week gaping. Harlequin spoils its authors. BIG TIME. We were wined and dined all over town.
At the Harlequin Manhattan offices we had champagne and fancy schmancy hors d’ouvres. At the Harlequin party we danced and dined till midnight in a rooftop ballroom at the Waldorf Astoria. For party favors we were all given engraved compacts. (I still carry mine!)
That night was easily on the top five list for my entire life!!!
—Laura Marie Altom
www.lauramariealtom.com
#15
Every year during the National Romance Writers of America conference, Harlequin hosts a themed party for its authors. Do they know how to party! Beautiful decorations in the spirit of the theme, great food and drink, a playful DJ and toe-tapping music.
One of my favorite Harlequin moments (of many-it’s impossible choose just one!) was the year Harlequin hosted an Elvis-themed party. The year was 2002 and the location was Denver, Colorado. At the time I was fairly new to Harlequin, having sold my first novel in 1999. The party in Denver was my second Harlequin party, and the invitation that arrived via snail mail suggested that people wear poodle skirts or something ‘50-ish. I found something that I thought worked, a timeless, little black dress. (Only mine is navy blue.) Other than people wearing clothes from a bygone era, I had no idea what to expect.
Back then, in order to get into the party, you had to show your invitation. (That has since changed.) As my roommate and I approached the party location, which was walking distance from the hotel, we were greeted by a very cute Elvis Impersonator and a photographer with an instamatic camera. Elvis was a flirt, too, which made the experience all the more fun. As we posed in front of a honkin’ big, pink convertible, the photographer snapped pictures. Me with Elvis, my roommate with Elvis, both of us with him. What fun!
Pictures tucked carefully into our purses, we headed inside, where someone handed out the coolest party favors ever-sunglasses with wings, just like the ones in 1950’s photos. Only these babies were hot pink. Rhinestones sparkled from the wings, adding bling to the ‘50’s look. How cool is that? To this day I cherish those sunglasses. As I recall, we also each got really cool plastic see-through tote bags with bright fake flowers imbedded into the plastic front.
So there we were, with our aren-t-we-the-coolest Elvis party favors, in a wonderful venue set up to look like a 1950’s soda shop. Vinyl-topped tables, chrome napkin holders, the whole schtick. Sipping our alcoholic beverages of choice (I think I was into margaritas that year), and munching on fabulous hors d’oeuvres. (Whoever organizes those parties and chooses that year’s menu deserves a huge, huge thank you. He/she is incredibly good at the job.)
The music started. A different Elvis impersonator, equally cute, appeared. This man moved from table to table, swiveling his hips and singing great songs we all knew. With the music pulsing and the mood festive, darned if I (or anyone else) could sit still. Along with dozens of authors, I hurried onto the dance floor, kicked off my heels, and danced up a storm. I must’ve danced for three hours, pausing now and then for food and water or more alcohol.
Speaking of food, one of the highlights of every Harlequin party is a chocolate fountain you wouldn’t believe. Some of the best chocolate I ever ate, and it cascades down a fountain like water. If that isn’t heaven enough, within reach are little wood skewers and plates of bite-size chunks of cakes and brownies, fruit, marshmallows and other treats ready to skewer and drench. Some people put several different treats on each skewer, which is both fun and delicious. Immerse the skewer into the fountain, coat the treat with chocolate, and yum! Just writing about it makes me salivate.
I don’t recall what time I finally ran out of steam and left the Elvis party, but I’m guessing it was about the time the music stopped, sometime around midnight.
Thank you, Harlequin. That was a night and party to remember forever!
—Ann Roth
www.annroth.net
# 16
I’m going to cheat just a little bit before I tell you my story, because I, like everyone who writes for Harlequin, probably has TWO favorite moments, one of them being the phone call telling us we’d sold our first book to Harlequin. In my case, that was an even bigger moment, because it wasn’t just my first book to Harlequin but my first book ever. And you can imagine how exciting that was!
But my other favorite moment—and, in truth, it is still and will probably always be my very favorite Harlequin moment—includes two of my favorite women—Stevi Mittman and Jennifer Greene—and two of my favorite activities—sitting on the stairs and singing (badly!).
Picture this.
Atlanta July 2006. Hot. Hot. Hot. And humid. Hundreds of women (and a few men) crammed into the Ritz-Carlton Hotel basement party room. Drinks. And more drinks.
The three of us lasted as long as we could, dancing, drinking, fanning our hot selves, yelling at friends over the noise. But eventually we determined on escape and ended up in the foyer, gravitating, almost automatically, to the stairs leading out of the basement (I’m sure the Ritz-Carlton calls it something else).
We were dressed up of course—high heels, makeup, formal clothing—and yet there we were, sprawled like teenagers on the stairs, disregarding the mess we might make of our perfect selves.
I bet most of you already know this but conversations are different on the stairs—more personal, less complicated, and definitely more entertaining. We looked up at everyone coming down or going up the stairs, as if we were children again, seeing everyone from an unexpected angle. And everyone talked to us. No barriers, no discomfort, everyone remembering what it was like to pick a step next to a friend and sit down. Talk. Share stories.
And then, sad but true, w
e began to sing. This might have been okay if we had tried to sing something simple, a song that didn’t require any musicianship. But no, not us. Instead, we threw ourselves into trying to remember all the verses of a song from The Sound of Music. Rodgers and Hammerstein at their very best. We didn’t pick “Edelweiss”, a nice, relatively simple folk song. Nope. We decided to sing a song that had not just complicated lyrics, but lyrics in three different languages. Yep, you guessed it. We decided we were going to sing “So Long, Farewell.”
None of us had the voice to carry it off. But we didn’t care. We just kept on singing and smiling and laughing with the throngs of women going up and down the stairs. In between singing, we complimented other writers on their beautiful dresses, their amazing shoes—all of us being shoe addicts—and then began to sing again. People would sit down next to us for a few minutes and join in. I don’t remember that anyone could sing any better than us (and I’m sure I would have remembered if Peggy Webb—an amazing musician—had joined us) but it didn’t matter.
We laughed so hard we almost cried. And I don’t know about Stevi and Jennifer but I do know that I almost ruined the brand-new silk panties I was wearing under my dress!
We were Harlequin writers, sitting on the stairs at the Harlequin party at the Ritz-Carlton in Atlanta, and we could do whatever we wanted.
There is something very satisfying about sitting on the stairs. Maybe it’s the geometric neatness of it. Maybe it’s the childhood memories. Maybe it’s the unexpected angles through which you view people. And there’s an etiquette to sitting on the stairs. When someone joins you, they’ll sit on the stair below you, their head even with your shoulder. And if someone else then joins you, they’ll sit at your other shoulder, on the step just above you. No one sits on your stair.
I wonder if we learned this stair sitting etiquette as children? I remember sitting on the stairs at my granny’s house. I remember sitting on the stairs of some big old building downtown watching a parade. I remember sitting on the stairs at parties and I remember meeting some beautiful men on those stairs.
And I still sit on the stairs when I get a chance. I occasionally dream of having a two story house so that I can do it at home, rather than when I’m out. Because not every hotel is as accommodating about stair sitting as the Ritz-Carlton.
—Kate Austin
www.kateaustin.ca
Top 10 Lists
#17
My Top Ten Harlequin Moments:
10. The first time my mother-in-law handed me one of those little paperback novels that she bought by the grocery-bag full at neighborhood yard sales.
I looked at her aghast. “I don’t read those kinds of books.”
She shrugged. “They’re short and easier to read while you’re chasing after the kids. You should try one.”
I did.
I was hooked.
The rest, as they say, was history. Thank you, Mae.
9. The Call. Every author I know can recall with perfect clarity the moment their life changed and they learned they would soon be published authors. I can still hear my first editor’s lovely, exotic South African accent. “Hello, Debra, this is Zilla Soriano with Harlequin and we’d very much like to buy your book.” Thank you, Zilla.
8. RWA 2000, Washington, DC. I remember two things very clearly about my first conference: freezing (note to self: the hotel sets the thermostat to “Men In Suits”) and attending my first Superromance Meet ‘n Greet where Roz Denny Fox, an author I’d been reading for years, said to me, “Hey, you’re Debra Salonen. I read your book. Loved it. You’re going to have a great career.” Thank you, Roz.
7. My 76-year old father-in-law wearing a T-shirt with my first book cover on it. His favorite pastime was wandering through the book aisle at Wal Mart where he’d point to his chest and say, “My daughter-in-law wrote this. It’s a good book. You should read it.” As marketing strategies go, this one might not be that effective, but he works cheap. (It should be noted his other favorite T-shirt has a picture of a big mouth bass with the words “Bite me!” on it.) Thank you, Milt.
6. My first royalty check. Since this was pre-Internet days, I was pretty un-informed. In fact, I was so darn happy Harlequin didn’t ask ME to pay THEM to publish my book, I honestly wasn’t expecting more than my advance. How times have changed!! Thank you, Swiss check signer person.
5. My first “grouchy” reader letter. A man wrote to tell me in no uncertain terms that my shoddy research efforts sucked. He’d been to the library and had checked three atlases and there was no town in California named “Gold Creek.” (The imaginary town in my first trilogy.) “Well, yeah, guy, because I looked in three atlases to make sure I didn’t use the name of an existing town.” I was ready to whip off an angry reply when I read a little more of his letter. The man was the sole care provider for his dying wife—a woman who loved romance novels. He read them aloud to her every day. He felt they should be accurate. I sent him my backlist books and apologized for causing him any anguish. I never heard from him again, but I never forgot that our books are read by real people with real stories. Thank you, sir.
4. Going home again. My first trip back to my hometown included a reading and signing at my local library. One of the women in the audience came up to me afterward and introduced herself as my 4th grade teacher. She told everyone that she’d always known I would be a writer because when she gave her students a one-paragraph assignment, I always turned in an entire page. Thank you, Mrs. Wrage.
3. Dancing at the Harlequin party at the Waldorf-Astoria in New York City. Need I say more? Thank you, Catherine Orr and your wonderful, creative party-throwing staff.
2. My first “poignant” reader letter. A woman wrote to tell me that my book, Back In Kansas, had changed her life. Like my heroine, she’d been raped by a family member when she was a young teen. Like my heroine, she’d made a number of bad choices that impacted her life, confirming her belief that she was less than worthy. But reading my heroine’s efforts to turn her life around had opened her eyes and her heart to new possibilities.
“I think I’m finally ready to forgive myself,” she wrote.
I cried, of course. Thank you, brave girl.
And my #1 Harlequin moment: the day I saw my first book on a shelf at Borders. The thrill that went through my body was not unlike the one I experienced when I held my baby girl in my arms for the first time. I grabbed a copy and raced to the counter, my hands shaking as I tried to find my credit card to make this important “business expense” purchase. I nudged THAT COWBOY’S KIDS across the counter to the bored college kid behind the register.
“This is my book,” I told him, so proud the words came out all squeaky and high-pitched.
He glanced up and said with a sigh, “It will be when you pay for it.”
Can you say: bubble-bursting wince?
How come this is my number one Harlequin moment? Well, first of all, it helps keep me grounded. I’m not curing cancer here. The sad fact is the world does not revolve around me. But this guy’s reaction also reminds me that a lot of people have preconceived notions about romance novels and part of my job is to educate and inform.
So, thanks for the reality check, Mr. Bored Borders Clerk. You really need to expand your horizons and read a little romance. If a 76-year old guy with a fish on his chest can do it, so can you. May I suggest a nice Harlequin Superromance?
—Debra Salonen
www.debrasalonen.com
#18
Here are my top three moments to date:
1) The first time I heard from my brilliant editor, Susan Swinwood who uttered those magical words, “We’d like to offer you a contract for your book…”
2) Getting my author page up at eHarlequin and scrolling down that index list of legendary names and finding my name among them.
3) Receiving my debut books. I held it in my hands as if it were glass.
—Amanda McIntyre
www.amandamcintyre.net
www.myspace
.com/amandamcintyre
#19
I have had many good moments with Harlequin, and it is hard to narrow it down to just one so I have decided to give you my top ten Harlequin moments.
10. Selling my fiftieth book, Don’t Look Back, my March 2008 Love Inspired Suspense. I only have fifty more until I get my hundredth book! I need to get cracking and write those fifty books.
9. Writing a long short story, When Night Falls, for a Love Inspired Suspense sampler. What great promotion for the line and me! The other day it arrived in the mail and I was thrilled to see it. You would think I had written a whole book rather than a 10,000-word story. And I never thought I could write a story in such a short format. The things we learn about ourselves even after all these years of writing. Thanks, Harlequin.
8. The annual Harlequin parties at the RWA conference. I have really enjoyed dancing the night away. I probably spend over three hours on the dance floor dancing to music from the 80s, 90s, this century (the only opportunity I get to dance the whole year). The food is delicious, and since I’m on vacation, the calories don’t count. I’m sure I ate a week’s worth in that one night.
7. Working with some wonderful editors who have challenged me to improve my craft. All the editors at Steeple Hill are excellent and committed to the lines, which have grown a lot in the eight years I have been writing for Steeple Hill. When I first sold to Steeple Hill in 2000, Love Inspired was the only line, three LI books a month. Now there are three series lines-Love Inspired, Love Inspired Suspense, and Love Inspired Historical-as well as a program for the longer books. Way to go Steeple Hill!
6. Selling my first Love Inspired Suspense, Heart of the Amazon, which is a book of my heart. I love the jungle, and I got a chance to tell a story placed in a rain forest that was full of adventure.
5. The first time I was asked to be a part of a continuity series, Tiny Blessings. Boy, I didn’t know what I was getting into. It was a lot of hard work, coordinating with other authors to tie the books together. I must not mind. I’ve done five continuity series. But then again the caliber of authors is excellent, which makes it easier to do.
A Valentine for Harlequin's Anniversary Page 2
