Documentaries are labors of love dictated by låne penger finance. Documentary filmmakers have to stop and start as financing dictates which can mean years before they share their passion with the world.
About five years ago, filmmaker Laurie Kahn approached Nora about taking part in her proposed documentary Love Between the Covers — which she envisioned as a feature-length documentary film about the powerful community of women (and some men) who read and write romance novels. You can read that vision in Laurie’s words here.
During the next few years Laurie and her crew traveled where the information took them, including a visit to Turn the Page Bookstore to film what goes on at a signing. They also spent time at the RWA conference in Anaheim in 2012, interviewing authors from Nora to Nalini Singh to Jill Shalvis to Beverly Jenkins.
Laurie has shared some clips that are in the film as well as some outtakes for your enjoyment. And it’s classic Nora in each of them.
Nora on Romeo and Juliet:
Nora on falling in love with the process:
Nora and Ruth on finding each other:
Nora on the birth of JD Robb:
Nora on getting The Call:
Nora on how she started out:
An outtake from LBTC — Nora on the male POV:
Thank you to Laurie Kahn and the entire team from Love Between the Covers for these gorgeous, funny and informative clips from the film. Love Between the Covers is available for download from Amazon and iTunes and will be out on dvd in December. For more information on the film please click these links: http://radi.al/LBTC & lovebetweenthecovers.com/filmrelease —
In the spirit of mixing things up, we take a lazier day after the day of The Big Hike.
This doesn’t mean skipping the morning workout, and Kat’s got some Piyo DVDs. They aren’t for weenies! A forty-something minute session gets the blood moving and the muscles stretched. Then it’s time for my three companions to get their massages. I opt to do a cardio workout as I’m getting TWO spa treatments.
By the time I get out of the shower, everyone’s back and blissed out. It’s handy I can just wear my robe to go down a couple flights of stairs to the spa. Which is lovely and quiet and friendly. Clearly everyone there wants you to have a perfect time. My hot stone massage was a perfect time. All those muscles I challenged on the hike, and in the morning’s workout get a good, deep rub, and that heat? Ahhhh.
I’m pretty blissed myself by the time I walk back to the room. And there, my fam is preparing to take a trip on the chair lift that runs beside the hotel–and way, way up. The way, way up has already answered the question of whether I’d want to go. I settle down to work for the hour or so before my facial. The minute I start I’m back into it and realize I wouldn’t mind a solid three or four hour session at the keyboard. But I have the spa calling.
It literally flies by, that hour, so I’m surprised when I check on the time and see I have to leave right now! So still in my robe–and it’s an added bonus to spend the bulk of a day in a robe–I head down again. I’ve chosen a facial that involves oxygen being blown onto (into?) your skin. Not sure how it works, but it feels like your face is being quietly airbrushed. It’s lovely and relaxing. It also involves a neck and shoulder massage, a soothing mask, hand massage. All together, more bliss. And after my skin looks and feels amazing.
I can see why celebs come here for a week just for the spa treatments.
My gang had a great time riding high above Capri, have the photos to prove it–and had some gelato to cap it off.
Housekeeping’s here, and one of the ladies apologizes for not speaking English. Then speaks it perfectly in a conversational way–to ask if we’re enjoying our stay, to tell us we’ll love Sorrento and so on. My Italian’s pretty limited to hello, goodbye, good day, evening, night. And various foods. It always impresses me how Europeans have at least a conversational command of so many languages. Americans should do better there.
I’ll add everyone in our hotel has been a delight–friendly, personable, accommodating. Just as the shopkeepers, the waitstaffs around the island have given off that happy, welcoming vibe. More than making a sale, providing a meal, making the bed, checking you in or out, it’s service. Lovely, competent and cheerful service. It makes all the difference.
But now it’s time for me to actually get dressed. We’re going to take ourselves a walk down a quieter area–still shops to play in. A few more gifts to select and friendly shopkeepers to chat with as the light softens toward evening. We can hardly leave Capri without buying a pretty bottle of limoncello. It would just be wrong.
We wind our way back to the restaurant where we ate our first night. I want nothing more in this world than their pizza. Well, maybe some wine to go with it. It’s all as cheerful and delicious as before. Honestly, nobody prepares food like the Italians, or sees to pretty details as flawlessly. We have our easy, fun, yummy meal–pizza for me and my boy, eggplant parm for Kat, a tuna dish for BW. A little dessert. Nobody walked home hungry.
Today, post workout, we have to gather our things, organize, repack what we unpacked. We’ll say goodbye to our amazing home here, and the beautiful island of Capri.
Time for a boat ride. At least, for my shaky system, it’s a short one. And by mid-afternoon we’ll be on Sorrento.
Echoes in Death is the 44th entry in the In Death series, and the first from St. Martin’s Press. The new Team JD is off and running toward the February 7, 2017 release date and they’ve shared the book cover, book description and order info.
After a party, Eve heads home with Roarke, happy to be done with cocktails and small talk.
After different party not far away, a woman retires to her bedroom with her husband—and walks into a brutal nightmare.
Their paths are about to collide…
When the young woman—dazed, naked, and bloody—wanders in front of their car, Roarke slams on the brakes just in time, and Eve, still in glittering gown and heels, springs into action. It’s been a long night and now it’s far from over.
Daphne Strazza is rushed to the ER, but it’s too late for Dr. Anthony Strazza. A brilliant orthopedic surgeon, he now lies dead amid the wreckage of his obsessively organized town house, his three safes opened and emptied. Daphne would be a valuable witness, but in her terror and shock the only description of the perp she can offer is repeatedly calling him “the devil” . . .
Turns out Dr. Strazza was cold, controlling, and widely disliked—and that he treated Daphne like a trophy wife— but this is one case where the evidence doesn’t point to the spouse as the first suspect.
Eve and her team must interview everyone from dinner-party guests to caterers to professional colleagues, in a desperate race to answer some crucial questions:
What does the devil look like? And where will he show up next?
Since the announcement is so early pre-order links are only just coming online.
Today we celebrate the change from dark to light, the earth’s rebirth. It may be a chilly 32 degrees out there in my world at this moment, but the spring equinox is all about hope and potential.
This turning, for me, is a lovely reminder that all things come around again. And beauty will bloom.
Whether you dance around the fire in tribute to The Horned God or check out those seed catalogues, whether you carry palms after Sunday Mass or plant some pansies, today the world shifts. And in the Northern Hemisphere, it turns to spring with longer days, warmer air and awakening life.
On Friday, I walked outside (to clean up dog poop on the pavers) and found some spring. Little Johnny-Jump-Ups volunteering by the outdoor faucet, periwinkle blooming under the still winter-bare trees, daffodils blowing their bright trumpets. A woman can smile even while shoveling up poop.
My very favorite spring beauty is the tulip magnolia right in front of the house. I tried to talk it into waiting as the forecasters warned of snow, of freezing temps. Don’t come out yet!! Just wait. Give it another week.
It didn’t listen.
I shot a few pictures, not only for this blog but for me as I anticipated by Sunday morning all those gorgeous pink blooms would be black from frost.
Saturday was for chores and anticipation–and sighing as the forecasters were right, and rain turned to snow. But inside I had Easter bags and boxes to fill for grandchildren. I don’t do baskets as some of the gifts (including the little-guy basketball hoop Kayla urged me to get for her little brother) are just too big. Into the One More Room to sort and organize, to add the candy every kid is entitled to for Easter. We’ll do our little Easter next Friday, dye some eggs, have a hunt. Another celebration of spring and rebirth, of hope and renewal.
I also sorted out the Fabulous Prizes for the tournament–our much-anticipated Drunken Girl Spa week is coming right up! Then there’s the bags of clothes from my closet purge to deal with as the annual clothes swap is only a month away.
Lots of sorting, bagging, boxing up. And no cooking as BW is away this weekend, skiing. Why anybody would escape winter for more winter is a puzzle to me, but there you go. For me, just a day of quiet, chores and the dogs, with the fire going. And my pretty pink tree every time I stopped to look out the window. I stopped to look out a lot, looking at my pretty tree as snow fell, wet and steady, blurring those bright blossoms.
Oh, and the deer–six of them–I chased off, as I’ve had to do routinely all winter. There will be an epic battle come planting time. Epic.
When I let the dogs out for the last time last night, it was shivering out there. Cold, cold and still damp. I thought of my poor magnolia and those brave, impatient blooms.
And this morning, against all odds, I saw this filling the window over my bed. Beautiful, bright and defiant, this celebration of rebirth, this symbol that we can bloom even in the harsh, even if it’s just for one more day.
So I’m taking that symbol into my day, will light the fire, will light the candles, will give thanks in my own way for the beauty outside my windows as the world wakes in flowers for another year.
Happy Ostara. Happy Spring. And bright blessings–and blooming–to you all.