My friend Freddy, the Swedish stripper

First of all, Happy Easter.

Second, as most of you probably know, my most recent book to be released was Fortune's Hero, the first book in my science fiction romance series. Or futuristic romantic suspense, if you prefer.

On the dediction page, it says "To Wilfred Bereswill, for planting the seed."

Will and I first made one another's acquaintance some five or six years ago, on a group blog called the Good Girls Kill for Money Club.

One of my first few times to post, I told the story about how, one time when I'd been on my way home to Norway to visit family, I'd sat next to a Swedish stripper named Freddy, who offered to father my first child.

It's a long story.

At any rate, I posted and Wilfred immediately piped up with, "Oh, that was you...?"

How could we not become friends?

Fast forward a few years, and after the Good Girls Kill For Money Club folded, we ended up on the same group blog again. This time it was the Working Stiffs out of Pittsburgh. Will and I were the two non-natives: me from Nashville and he from St. Louis.

We met a few times over the years. He brought one of his daughters down to Nashville for an ice hockey game once, and we also ran into each other at Bouchercon in St. Louis a couple of years ago.

Will loved to write short fiction, and in February of 2010, he issued a Flash Fiction Smackdown to the Working Stiffs. Write a complete story in 200 words, beginning with the sentence "If you have to die, February is the best month for it." He told me later he'd made it 200 instead of 100 because he knew I would refuse if I only had 100 words to play with. I'd been telling him I can't write anything short, and he was bound and determined to prove me wrong.

It took time - a lot of time; more time than it should have - but I finally narrowed my entry down to 200 words... exactly. It was about a man named Quinn Conlan who sat in a prison on a moon on the outer edge of the galaxy, and everyone thought Will had written it, which struck us both as hilariously funny.

That 200 word flash fiction piece turned into the 4-book series in which Fortune's Hero is the first installment, so I got the last laugh: turns out I really can't write anything short.

Earlier today - Saturday - I came across information for an annual crime writers contest. A 200 word flash fiction piece - exactly! - written around a posted picture.

I copied the link and harried over to Will's Facebook page and posted it. In a hurry as usual, not paying attention to much. "Hey, Freddy! I think you should do this. Sounds like just your thing!"

It wasn't until this evening that I got a message from Will's sister, suggesting that maybe I'd want to take the post down, because Will passed away suddenly on Palm Sunday, and won't be entering any more contests.

So now I'm sitting here, not knowing what to say. I apologized, of course. Sent my condolences to the family and so forth. Awkwardly.

I'm a writer. I'm supposed to have words, always. But today there are none.

I'll miss you, Freddy. Thanks for everything. xoxo

A new frontier

Some of you may remember having heard me yap on about what I call my "science fiction futuristic romance space opera thingy" ... for lack of a more focused term.

I developed the idea more than a year ago: first in a piece of flash fiction my Working Stiffs blog buddy Wilfred Bereswill challenged me to write, after I told him I can't write anything short; and secondly in a class I took with the fabulous Heather Graham last fall. I was told by a lot of people it would be a hard sell, and that I probably shouldn't put too much effort into it... but to be honest, I had a hard time letting it go. Characters sometimes dig into your brain and refuse to give up, even when you know you should push them outta there and let them shrivel and die in the harsh light of real life.

In this case I didn't even try. Quinn's just one of those special people. I did my best to ignore him when I had other things to do, but I never made a concerted effort to get rid of him. Once in a while I'd even let him come out and play for a while.

Fast forward about a year: a month or so ago, I was yapping to another friend about it - the wonderful Misa Ramirez, author of the Lola Cruz mysteries from St. Martin's Minotaur and the Enchanted Dressmaking mysteries from NAL, as well as the marketing director for a new boutique publisher called Entangled Publishing ... and long story short, Misa asked to see the outline for the book. Then she asked if she could show it to one of the editors. And then she said the editor wanted a formal proposal for the series.

(Yes, in playing with the idea, it had morphed into a series. I told you I can't write anything short.)

And now I am extremely excited to be able to report that I have signed a four book contract for a series of sci fi romances about the crew of a space freighter called the Good Fortune. There'll be adventure, there'll be sex, there might be a little mystery and definitely some suspense, and hopefully some of you who read my mysteries will give these books a try as well. They're not very science fiction-y, I promise. They just happen to be set in a galaxy far, far away, but for all intents and purposes, they could take place right here on our own planet, as well. They're character books, just like the rest of what I write. Only, instead of - say - five mysteries making up one long romance, like the Cutthroat Business books, this is four romances making up one long adventure.

Check out the short outline for book 1, Fortune's Hero, scheduled for release sometime in 2012:

 To ensure their survival on a hostile planet, an escaped prisoner and his hostage must forge a partnership that changes them from enemies to reluctant allies and – eventually – to lovers.

Last year, space smuggler Quinn Conlan was on top of the world. He had everything a man could want: a fast ship, a great crew, a gorgeous girlfriend, lots of money, and adventure and excitement around every corner.

That all changed when he agreed to ferry a shipload of weapons to the beleaguered planet Marica, currently under siege by Rhenian forces. Now he’s stuck in a prison camp on the moon Marica-3, subjected to weekly sessions with the camp’s “medical team,” and praying for a quick death before he breaks under the torture and spills everything he knows about the Marican resistance.

When the opportunity presents itself, Quinn takes a Rhenian med tech hostage and heads into the inhospitable interior of the small moon. There, he has to keep himself and Doctor Elsa Brandeis safe from the deadly flora and fauna, as well as hidden from the prison guards searching for them, all while formulating a plan for getting his crew out of prison, his ship out of impound, and everyone out of orbit.

But when Elsa professes her love, can Quinn take the beautiful doctor at her word, or will trusting her—and his heart—condemn him and his crew to an eternity on Marica-3?

All that's left now is to write the book... after I finish the revisions on DIY-6 and the last half of A Done Deal. :-)