Category Archives: Uncategorized

Madame Heap Redux (Anne Stuart)

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Two questions (well, two and a half) questions this week.  First, on censorship.  Are there guidelines, etc. for writers when writing love scenes?

The best guidelines would be the books themselves.  If you’re wanting to write paranormal romance then in general they can be pretty racy, depending on the mood you want to hit.  They can be gloriously hot, like Jeaniene Frost, they can be more restrained, like Patricia Briggs.  They can be outright erotica.  Now fortunately (or unfortunately) I like all levels (well, I shy away from erotica a bit, but that’s a whole ‘bother subject and it has nothing to do with me being prissy or against erotica).  But in general you need to pick which form you respond to, and keep your level of sensuality in line with that.  If you’re writing a 6 book arc where the characters finally do the deed i the third or fourth book then you’ll have a lower level of sensuality (usually — Laurell K. Hamilton is an exception).  If they’re at it immediately then you’re going to have to up the action on the second or third book, give the sex a strong reason for being there since we already know how well they do together.

As for GAME OF THRONES, I don’t get HBO.  There was a free weekend before the new series started so I watched a bunch of episodes and got totally caught up.  Loved Peter Dinklage (but then, I always have).  My only problem was that I couldn’t find a love story I could like (though I like the one with Jason Momoa and the blonde, but I knew he died).  And I love Sean Bean and knew he died in the series too, so that didn’t make me feel too cheery.  At some point I’ll be able to afford HBO again, at a time when GOT is running, and then I might be able to catch up.

Amazon review?  I think they matter, though I hope people are able to see through the constraints.  If I want to try a new author I’ll choose the one with the highest average, though if I stopped to think I wouldn’t.  Something that had lots of 5s and lots of 1s is more my style — I like polarizing brilliance.  But it’s short-hand, and life is busy.

As for my own Amazon reviews, I know they’re subjective.  They seem to boil down to two main points.  !.  Anne Stuart is not for everyone and 2.  I am a God.

I like point 2.  Then there’s always the readers who throw the books against the wall, find the heroines TSTL, hate my heroes, etc.  In fact, I might instinctively distrust something that had too many good reviews.

Look up your favorite book and see if you agree with the comments.  If you find you tend to go along with Amazon’s reviews, trust ‘em.  The great thing about a Kindle (and maybe other e-readers) is you can download a sample for free, and you can decide for yourself.

Madame Heap requires more questions, or else I will tell you why I find Rumplestiltskin the hottest man in prime time, or close to it.  I kid you know.

A Week For Writing. Not! (Pat)

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I had high hopes for this past week. It was all planned. I have a contract, a story I really love, characters that are endearing, and a dog that, wow, is really going to be fun. More than one dog, in fact. It’s a pack of misfit mutts.

 I had it all mapped out. I really did.   Kept the whole week clean.  Free from distrations. So Monday morning I woke up at 6:30 a.m. as planned. Took Aussie #1 (Kate) for a three quarter mile walk. At 7 a.m. I took dog #2 (Allie) for her walk. Great morning. Great exercise for me. Great happiness for said dogs.

Then everything went, well, off track. 

 Allie and I were finishing our walk when she lunged at something huddled against the curb in the street. I pulled Allie back, saw a fur ball try unsuccessfully to move, and thought it was a squirrel hit by a car. I couldn’t see clearly because Allie really, really wanted to go closer and I didn’t think that was a particularly good idea.

I took Allie home some six houses away, rounded up some towels and a big box and set forth. The fur ball wasn’t a squirrel at all but a rabbit that had obviously been hit by a car. No way I could leave it lying in the street on what was going to be a very hot day. I picked her up, settled her on a towel in a box and drove to a neighbor whom I knew shared the same love for animals as I.   I thought she might know who to call.   We spent about thirty minutes calling one vet after another before finding one who had expertise in rabbits and who would look at him. Problem was he was located some twenty miles away. No problem. My friend and I drove to the vet, left the rabbit in caring hands.

 A little more than half a day gone. I went home, turned on the dishwasher which I meant to do earlier. Didn’t work. I looked inside and saw three inches of cold, nasty water.   Spent another hour trying to find a plumber. Finally found one who could come on Wednesday.

 On to the computer. I have three chapters written but I’m not happy with synopsis. The problem: did Green Berets use military dogs? I spent three hours researching military dogs and how various Army, Air Force, Marines and Seals use them. Discovered the moving story of a Seal who handled a military dog. The Seal was killed, and his family was finally able to adopt the dog.

I go out to get the mail. Another neighbor makes a bee line towards me. She says that the two Shih Tzus who reside in the yard next to her had escaped and were running down the middle of our street. We go after the wayward dogs (I have a real fondness for Shih Tzus) and finally see them in someone’s yard.  Being practiced in such matters,  I know chasing does no good but that dogs love cars.   I open the car door and they running and jump inside. We take them home, make sure the fence gate is closed tight.

 It’s late. Progress on the book on a scale of one to ten: one point one.

 Oh well, Tuesday will be better. I wake up early, take dogs for walk. No injured rabbits or squirrels or runaway dogs. The phone rings when I get home. The neighborhood handyman is on the line. I’d asked him weeks earlier if he could fix a window in my attic. Squirrels had eaten through the window sill and there was a huge hole. I hadn’t heard or seen any of the little critters, but obviously a big hole from outside to inside is not a good thing.

 He can come this morning if I’m going to be home. We will discuss what can be done. So much for my perfect writing day. It’s consumed with the handyman who, though a good craftsman, believes in taking things slowly. We spend the day discussing how to get squirrels out without getting more in before closing off the opening. He describes in detail how he has designed a wire cone that will do just that. Then he described in detail how he will fix the window. Some of the work today. Some tomorrow. Some next week. If it doesn’t rain.

 

I go upstairs to work. Can’t concentrate with the sawing and loud music beneath. I give up and make lunch. The dishwasher guy calls. He can come between 8 a.m. and noon the next day. Wednesday. Great, I reply, even though I know I won’t be able to concentrate on the poor book because I can’t hear the doorbell from my office. I suggest he call just prior to coming,, and he says he’ll try. That’s the magic word. Try.

 My mail arrives with a big stuffed envelop. Manuscripts. I forgot that I’d agreed to judge a writing contest. I add those entries to the pile of first chapters I’m critiquing for my local group.

 The door bell rings. My handyman wants to show me his work thus far. And he wants to tell me he has to leave but will be back in the morning. He leaves his equipment (a lot of it) in my front yard.

 I try again on the synopsis. More research. I really love the internet. One clue leads to another to another to another. I print off pertinent information. Soon I have nearly one hundred pages of stuff that might, or might not, be useful.   Did you know that you can’t try out for Delta Force until you’re 25 and have at least four years in Special Forces? Or that they are controlled by one man in Washington and not the army? That Delta Force members are called “operators” rather than soldiers? Have I told you that I tend to get overly involved in research?

 Wednesday. I’m waiting for the dishwasher repairman. I’m trying to figure out why more young people don’t want to become repair folks. They are in great demand and make a very, very nice income. The independents, like my handyman, can set his own schedule and proceed at his own pace. They are always welcomed warmly. At least at my house.

 The dishwasher repairman comes. He spends an hour dismantling my dishwasher. Finally finds a small piece of plastic tie that somehow dropped in the machine and plugged the draining device.

 He leaves. The handyman returns. His brother stops for a visit. We have a family discussion. I get a phone call from the vet in the next county. The rabbit survived. It will soon be released in a pasture near the vet’s office. I call my friend and give her the good news.

 Now it’s Thursday. Still no meaningful progress on the book. So much for my wonderful week of writing. Critique group tomorrow (Friday). I have to have something. I work furiously on the synopsis. Still haven’t decided whether I want my hero to be a Ranger, Green Beret, Seal or a member of Delta Services. None really suit him. He’s a throwaway kid who joins the army because there’s nothing else. I want him to be the best he can be but not a superman. More research required..

 It’s midnight Thursday. Finished synopsis. I have the first three chapters but will have to make  changes. 

 Friday. Huge argument in critique group. We disagree on who my hero should be, but he’s MY hero and I’m going to make him what I want him to be. Then it’s home. Oh yeah, I’m having a Kentucky Derby Party Saturday with all the family invited. I haven’t done anything. No food. No cleaning. I’m sure I’m going to get a lot of writing done today.

Ah well, there’s always another day.

 

Cordoba and the Forest of Stone (Lynn Kerstan)

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Even the trees love one another.

At one period of time in its long existence, during the 10th and early 11th centuries, the Andalusian city of Cordoba had a larger population than any other city in the world.  Estimates run up to a million residents. It was the center of learning, and a place where Muslims, Christians and Jews lived in accord. Inside the Old Town, surrounded by Roman walls, the Cathedral, the Great Mosque, and the Jewish Quarter nestle peacefully together.

 

"It's a jungle in here," sez Lonzo, utterly lost.

 

 

 

Every which way you look, arches provide passage to nowhere.

 

 

 

 

Marble floors like mirrors reflect the light and the arches.

 

 

 

 

Christian chapels like this one ring the walls of the mosque

 

 

 

 

 

The Christian choir centers the mosque. I am not happy that it is there.

 

 

The Roman bridge, built a couple thousand years ago and still doing its job.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Desert Dream and Promo Insights (Maggie)

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I’m just back from the Desert Dreams Conference in Scottsdale Arizona with freshly replenished inspiration and energy!

The conference itself was wonderful.  And the biggest highlight for me was the chance to visit with my sister Storybroad, Tara and her hunky hubby Tim for the first time in far too long.  It was so good to see Tara in full blossom again, back home in the desert where she belongs.  And I understand why.  It gets under your skin, that Arizona sunshine.

I traveled north from Scottsdale to Sedona, and spent my final two days there, with my bff Michele, exploring the red rocks and tourist shops, which I really don’t believe should have ever been allowed in the same place, but it is what it is.  Sedona is magic, powerful.  But I’m blogging about that over at Shayne’s Shenanigans.  Here, I want to talk about what I learned at the conference.

I paid close attention at this conference, to what made me want to buy a book from any of the authors present.  As I sorted through the approximately two pounds of promotional goodies stuffed into my totebag, I realized what I was doing.  Pulling out great mounds of this stuff, I was rapidly flipping through them all like a seasoned poker dealer, snapping them into two piles; junk, and keep.  Brutal, I know.  But we might as well be honest here.  Bookmarks: Junk.  Unless the author was one I knew, or one I already loved.  Postcards, ditto.  Flyers too.  Chocolate attached to bookmarks quickly became detached, the bookmark heading to the junk pile, the chocolate, obviously, not.  I know this is probably quite distressing to those who’ve spent hundreds on pretty full color glossy bookmarks and other print goodies.  Trust me, I’m one of you.  I’ve spent it too.  It’s not worth the investment.  You can’t even give those things away!

What did I keep?  I kept two professional bound excerpt booklets which had excellent cover art and opening lines that grabbed me, for something to read on the plane.  I kept all the pens, because I can use them.  There were ten or twelve.  I couldn’t tell you what name or title was on them.  I kept the totebag, but without going and looking, I don’t know whose name is on that either.  I kept the Carina Press lanyard because it was pink and caught my eye, and because Carina is part of HQ and that’s my publisher and I’m loyal.  I even switched it out and wore it instead of the black one from a different publisher that came with the name badges.  Home team, what can I say?  I kept the chocolate.  Well, for a few minutes anyway.  :)

I kept two door hangers.  You know, like the “Do not disturb” thing in a hotel?  They both had cute sayings on them, and I’d tell you what they were but they’re still in my bag.  Oh, and I kept the little drawstring pouches with tea fixings in them for the duration of my hotel stay, in case I wanted tea.  I tossed them before I left because I was trying to downsize my luggage and every little thing I could eliminate, I did.

Resulting new knowledge?  Not one of the promotional items promoted anyone’s name or title to me.  Not one.  Some were cute enough to keep, but I didn’t remember a single one.  In fact, my favorite promo piece ever is a fridge magnet with Rosie the Riveter holding a stake, and it says, “been there, slayed that.”  Love it.  It’s been on my fridge for a year, and I still couldn’t tell you the book or author it’s promoting.

Clearly, this sort of thing doesn’t work.  What did work?  What did make me want to buy books?  The speakers.  Actually hearing the author give a talk that was funny, touching, moving, and entertaining (not necessarily one that was filled with useful knowledge.)  The speakers with personality plus-those were the ones whose books I was dying to buy. And other people I met who were friendly, kind, lovely human beings.  Those are new must-buys for me as well. There were others, not necessarily speakers, with the personality of a cactus, but tons of useful information to share.  With those types, you don’t buy their books.  You take notes to figure out how to sell your own.  But you don’t buy theirs.

The lesson?  Cultivate the ability to make other people feel good when they are around you.  When you speak, be positive, not negative, be funny and light.  Don’t take yourself too seriously.  Show interest in others, and listen to what they have to say.  Make them feel important to you, as if you truly care, and make that be because you do truly care.  Be friendly, be kind, speak softly, listen more than you talk.

I learned something about myself at this con too.  I delivered two workshops at Desert Dreams.  One, I wrote and prepared ahead of time.  And it went very well and we had a great time with it.  The other, I intended to prepare as well, but didn’t.  Had an episode of that awful PSVT thingie with my heart two days before I was to leave on the trip, and it left me barely functional for a while.  (I’m fine. No worries.)  So one workshop was very much off the cuff.  I made a few notes on the plane and in the hotel room, but mostly, I had to wing it.  It was called Sanity 101, and was basically my take on staying positive, on creating what you want in your own writing career and not worrying about what anyone else is doing–you know, my usual positive-Polly, Law of Attraction stuff.  It was one of the most well-received workshops I’ve ever given.  And the response to it has made me decide that this is the only workshop I’m going to give from now on.  Law of Attraction for Writers.

Okay, one more useful bit of knowledge I gleaned from Desert Dreams.  The general public are buying books for their e-readers less like the readers we authors have become used to, and more like our partners buy power tools from Home Depot.  There are so many people buying ebooks, people who maybe never set foot in a bookstore.  People who just got this cool new gadget and are looking for content to fill it, and don’t know Nora Roberts from Becky Sue Jones.  (That’s a made up name.)  They don’t care about an author’s track record, awards, bio, bestseller status.  They look at price, and reviews posted by other buys.  Just like you might pick out a new vacuum cleaner.  It’s weird, but that’s what I took away from this particular discussion.

99¢ on Kindle

Getting people to post reviews on Amazon is WAY harder than I

Review FORGOTTEN VOWS on Amazon & Win This Book!

thought!  I’m eager to find out if it really makes a difference, though, so I’m offering incentives. Every single person who posts an HONEST review of FORGOTTEN VOWS on its Amazon page can be entered into a drawing for a free advance reading copy (paperback) of MARK OF THE WITCH, launch book of The Portal Series.  The prizes will go out in June, 3 months prior to the release of the book.  All you have to do is buy FORGOTTEN VOWS, which remains on sale for 99¢ during the duration of this promotion, post a review on it’s Amazon page, and let me know via Facebook, here, or through email, and you’re entered.  Winners announced at month’s end.  My goal is 50 reviews by then, and then I’ll know if this particular interpretation of the new marketplace is on target or not.

Okay, that’s my post for today.

Be sure to visit me on FACEBOOK, and click “LIKE” on the top of the page to keep up on all the news and exclusive fan-only content.  As we move nearer the launch date of The Portal Series website, the premier of the video trailer for book 1, (both on June 1,) the release of a full set of 13 collectible (and free) trading cards, and much more, you’re not going to want to miss a thing.

Best,

Maggie

 

Another Birthday!! (Tara Taylor Quinn)

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ANNOUNCING: Four Times The Trouble

Entered the World:  May 1, 2012

A Kindle E-Book

A Nook E-book, too!

Proud Parent:  Tara Taylor Quinn

She arrived just in time for Mother’s Day!!!  And she’s eager to be held!

This story is an old one.  But a new venture for me.  It’s a book completely about story and void of sex.  It’s not a sweet book.  It still has the ttq hallmarks – depth, intensity, hard looks at hard issues.  It’s just told in a gentler way.

And for those of you who want ttq just as you’ve always had her - I have three brand new ttq books coming out starting in July, 2012 with A Son’s Tale.  It’s a cold case series, involving a twenty five year old toddler abduction.  It’s not told in a gentle way.  It’s told as it happened. 

A Son’s Tale is available now for pre-order – e-book or print – and last I looked it was part of a buy three get one free sale which means you could get Four Times The Trouble and a Son’s Tale as part of a package!

And if I haven’t lost you yet…

I’m not a political person and we don’t do politics here, anyway, but I had a moment I wanted to share with you all.  It meant a lot to me.  I won’t name names.  I’ll just show you a picture Tim took last night.  Hint:  I’m the pony tail.

 

Cat with an attitude … (Suzanne Forster)

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I thought my Mandy had attitude. 

And then I met Henri …

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q34z5dCmC4M

Henri should come live at my house.  He and Mandy could trade haughty, disdainful looks whenever the “barking idiot” next door does his imitation of a watch dog. 

My apologies to my neighbor’s adorable shih tzu, Charlie, if he happens to be reading this.  Charlie, you know I love you to pieces.  Maybe one day Miss Mandy will get over her superiority complex and accept your eager gestures of friendship.  I wouldn’t get your hopes up, though, especially now that she has Monsieur Henri for competition.

Suzanne

 P.S. Fingers crossed the Youtube video will embed.  If not, please cut and paste.  It’s worth watching!

Madame Trash Heap Pt. 2 (Anne Stuart)

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Madame Heap returns, with more answers to your questions.

First, pen names.  There are a number of reasons for them.  For a long while Harlequin/Silhouette insisted that authors take pen names.  They dropped that, but quite often long term authors will take new names when they go into a new genre.  It was at the request of Pocket Books that I take a new name for the paranormal series, and I’m always interested in trying new things.

But Jayne Krentz has used her Amanda Quick name for historicals for decades and it seems to work well for her.  Barbara Mertz wrote gothic romances and romantic suspense as Barbara Michaels and archaeology-based romantic suspense as Elizabeth Peters.  Occasionally the lines blurred, but she usually kept to that.  There used to be a prejudice against writers who were prolific, giving critics the idea that the books were slapdash.

Edith Pargeter wrote her medieval mysteries as Ellis Peters.  And of course Eleanor Hibbert wrote under many names, and for some reason I only liked Victoria Holt, not Jean Plaidy or Philippa Carr.  So in that case the division was a smart idea.

It can be a lot of fun to go in search of other names — you’ll find treasures you otherwise would have missed.   But it’s all marketing, and most writers have no idea why the marketing department decides to do what  they do.

Oh, and it’s about numbers.  If Susy Writer’s last three books sold badly, then the people who order books will order fewer.  However if it’s Susan Author she’ll appear as an entirely new entity, and not have to deal with numbers baggage.

Second, do I wrote to please an editor?  The short answer is no.  I have to write what I love, and if I think she’s gonna bitch about too much sex I’ll come up with a rationale.  Mostly though, I write it the way I want, and when I revise I try to look at it through his or her eyes and see whether there are ways to tighten it.  The editor who wanted less sex and humor had an excellent eye for some of my weaknesses.  But the bottom line is I have to write what I want to write, and then work it out later.

Number three, the ICE series.  Yes, Dylan and Mahmoud will each have a love interest, yes, Izzy will be one of them, yes there will be a bit of a triangle, I expect, and yes, everyone will have a role.  God, I love that world.

Number four.  Heroines.  So a lot of them are tall, blonde, and have a high IQ.  Well, the truth is, I’m medium height (was almost 5’7 in my prime but I can’t straighten my poor, messed-up knees).  I’m blonde (well, blonde and gray).  As for IQ, I managed to avoid having mine tested — I prefer blissful ignorance.  But I imagine it’s relatively high.

I like smart heroines.  I like scary smart heroines.  I always wanted to be taller (my sister was 5’11).  But it seems I’ve had a lot of red-heads as well.  I’m trying to think if there are certain actresses that work as role models for my heroines, but I’m more eclectic on heroines.  Interesting question, though.  I don’t know if I’ve done that many brunettes.  I think I need to start playing around with different types.

This is fun, and painless.  More questions, my darlings!

Pictures of Ronda (The Dream City) Lynn Kerstan

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A lovely park

Near the park is the bullring and an imposing statue.

The gorge made famous by Ernest Hemingway.

The church is the anchor buiding in the town square.

A statue in the town square. To help resist the heat of summer, most buildings in southern Spain are white.

The view from the other side of the city. Perched on a promontory, Ronda has always been a tough town to invade.

Ronda: An Unexpected Jewel (Pat)

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When preparing for our trip to Spain, I was particularly intrigued by a mention of city named Ronda, mainly because of its connection to Hemingway. He lived there on and off, and it is said to have been the setting for For Whom The Bell Tolls.

Ronda is with is just an hour north of the magnificent Costa del Sol, the sun coast which I loved. But it’s a different world.

It sits on a plateau of a large rock outcropping and straddles a deep gorge, El Tajo which is 360 feet deep and 200 feet wide. Because of the cliffs, Ronda was one of the last Moorish cities to fall during the Reconquest of Spain by the Spanish kings. ‘Tis said that in 1485, the Spanish looked up the cliffs to Ronda and decided not to attack the city but instead cut off the water supply. Once the garrison protecting the water was taken, the city fell in seven days.

Its many stories include tales of bandits who roamed the valley below for centuries, including the last one. The city has a Bandolero Museum (we didn’t have time to go). It features Bandit lore and paraphernalia from the time Ronda was the romantic home of 19th Century banditos. Think Jesse James. The people of Ronda have a fondness for this Spanish wild west past, and our guide told us their descendants live in the area.

It also has a more recent bloody past. In the 20th Century it had the unenviable reputation as being the place nationalists threw Republicans into the gorge and vice versa. It was a particularly brutal time when family members often fighting each other. After Franco won, he systematically killed any Republicans still left in Spain. Bitter memories remain.

 This is just a little of the history of Ronda. Its story is rich, as is that of most Spanish cities. The city was settled by the Celts, won by the Romans, then the Moors and finally the Spanish kings, and the lingering influence of the last three is a beguiling mixture. There are still examples of the walls and bridges built by Romans and Moors and they are in excellent condition. The Arab baths are located in the old Jewish Quarter. Remnants of a bridge built by Romans are still there.    There’s still the Moorish Quarter, along with the new sprawling Mercadillo quarter.

Like so many churches in Spain, Ronda’s celebrated Santa Maria Church is built on the site of a former mosque and an earlier temple to Julius Caesar and is a mixture of Morrish, Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque influences. You can get easily confused in Spain.

The views in Ronda were the most spectacular I experienced in Spain. Since my camera’s battery died at this point, I’m going to send you to a photo website of Ronda,

http://digitaljournal.com/article/322910.   If you have a problem, go to

Digitaljournal, go to travel, and type Ronda in the seach box.   It’s worth the effort.

 The photos are magnificent and if you are ever thinking about going to Spain or just want to know more about it, I hope you will visit the site. It will give you a feel for this city and this fascinating country in general.

To Spaniards, Ronda’s claim to fame is more for being the birthplace of modern bullfighting rather than the magnificent gorge. Ronda’s bull ring(and museum is Spain’s best – superior to Seville’s. Built in 1785, the area includes some 5,000 seats and 136 Tuscan columns. The ring was closed on the day we visited the town and, being an animal lover, I had little interest in going inside, but it was certainly a handsome building on the outside.

My attitude, though, is certainly is in a minority in Spain.

Nearly everywhere you go in the region, you see bull fighting posters, photos, costumes. And, of course, bull souvenirs. The latter includes wooden bulls, bottle opener bulls, painting of bulls, bullfighter capes, etc. You also see bulls in fields. We even visited a breeding stable in the area that raises horses for bullfights.

I can never quite express the glory of this city and the views it offers. If you ever visit Spain, you shouldn’t miss this wonderful town. I plan to go back when possible and spend more time exploring. The problem with a tour is there’s never enough time, and this was particularly true in Ronda.

Since I have no photos, I thought I would leave with two photos of very contented dogs now their person is back. 

Happy nap

The first is Kate, the second her twin, Allie.

Content NowKate: All is Well With the World

 

To Dream the Impossible Dream (Lynn Kerstan)

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Giants or Windmills? You make the call.

In a village of La Mancha, the name of which I have no desire to call to mind, there lived not long since one of those gentlemen that keep a lance in the lance-rack, an old buckler, a lean hack, and a greyhound for coursing. —Miguel de Cervantes

On the fifth day of our trip, after a morning spent exploring Toledo, our bus carried us into the dry, windy area of La Mancha. There, large white windmills stood like silent ghosts at the tops of hills, their blades unmoving. Everyone remembers that Don Quixote, fancying they were giants, took up his lance and fought the blades, which he thought were the arms of the giants. He lost. “Tilting at windmills” has come to mean engaging in a useless battle you can’t win but feel compelled to fight.

 

 

A leopard in a windmill. That doesn't happen every day.

Poor Quixote, a retired 50ish businessman, had been reading too many books about chivalry and knights and battles and rescuing lovely put-upon women. He armed himself and set out to fulfill his destiny: become a knight errant. Errant wound up being the operative word. A fictional character created  in 1605, he nonetheless seemed very present as we stopped to visit a windmill used by a local family to sell souvenirs, oil, and saffron to tourists. Our leader, Victor, had called to let them know we were coming, and he assured us the prices were fair. Never on our tour did we have reason to doubt him. Well, maybe the carpet factory in Tangier, but the mint tea was terrific. Anyway, as we left that chain of windmills, we were happy to see another hill on which a few actually in operation. Victor was surprised.

Just call me Dulcinea. Yes, that's Lonzo on his arm.

Then came our “rest stop” at a small, charming complex, the Venta del Quixote, with a bar and much-welcome rest rooms. Don Quixote was there to greet us. He’s invariably depicted as a gaunt, straight-backed, armored man with a lance and shield. We all lined up for a photo op. Even Lonzo, who also inspected a cart that looked very old and much the worse for wear. Somewhat like I was looking about that time, come to think of it.

Any rider heavier than Lonzo would probably collapse this antique cart. I'd have reduced it to splinters.

 

 

 

 

For perspective, consider the size of the tables and chairs.

I’m hoping Pat remembers what these enormous vats contain. Wine, perhaps, because this wasn’t olive oil country. After some time spent at the bar, we got the call to board the bus and off we went. Destination Cordoba, 142 miles due south. From Madrid to Toledo to Cordoba made for a long day, so there was a lot of snoozing on the bus. It finally disgorged us in front of our hotel, where a buffet dinner with wine awaited us. I don’t remember what happened after that.