Last week, I finished finishing my manuscript for Harlequin/Kimani, and FedExed it off to my new editor. I whipped that baby into shape and showed it who’s the boss. I got rid of most of the purple prose, most—well, some, anyway—of the adverbs, and most of the excess verbiage.

I tightened the manuscript and sharpened it. I made the hero and heroine edgier. I sliced, diced, rearranged, and prayed. I spell-checked and crosschecked. I worked hard and sweated bullets.

Then I cut the apron strings and sent my little baby out into the world.

The moment of truth is almost here. The question is: will my new editor like my book?

Did I do enough?

How many typos did I miss? Three? Twenty? Are the characters funny enough? Sympathetic enough? Sexy enough?

I loved them.

But will SHE?

I’ll know soon enough. Maybe too soon.

In the meantime … I’m going to find some chocolate.

The other week, you may recall, I was all worked up over doing the copy edits for my July book, Trouble. Having never done copy edits before, I didn’t quite know what to expect, or how long it would take me to make all the changes the editor wanted. So I did what I always do: panicked first and asked questions later.

Sure enough, my worry seemed justified when the manuscript came in the mail for me, riddled with the copyeditor’s marks. Imagine three hundred-odd pages filled with these sorts of indecipherable squiggles:

# insert a space
eq# space evenly
^ or >

How is a book born?

I’ve been thinking about this topic all week, ever since my agent called to say she wants me to work up a proposal to submit to a publisher. As you know, when your editor or agent calls and asks for something, there’s only one acceptable answer: “Sure! I can do that! I’d LOVE to do that!”

But then I hung up and had thirty panicked seconds of despair. I can’t do that! I don’t have any new ideas! I’m still trying to finish that OTHER book!

After a while, I calmed myself down and tried to think of something. For a long time, nothing came. I kept thinking. I got frustrated. I looked at magazines. I read newspapers. Nothing came. I remembered what I said last week—writing isn’t easy. I thought some more. Nothing came.

Then, when I was tired and cranky and all seemed lost, the what-ifs snuck up on me and saved the day.

The what-ifs, otherwise known as story ideas, come only after I’ve been looking really hard for them, but not necessarily when I wish they’d come. It’s sort of like fox hunting. Imagine suiting up at dawn, setting the hounds loose, riding around the countryside all day, checking behind every rock and bush, and finding nothing, not even a hint of a fox. And then, just when it’s getting dark and you’re ready to throw in the towel, go home and notify the authorities that foxes are extinct in this part of the country, the fox trots up and licks you on the face.

That’s how story ideas come to me.

The idea for Trouble, my book coming out in July, came from something I’d read years ago in Dear Abby. A woman wrote in to say that at her wedding, she met her husband’s brother—her new brother-in-law—for the first time, and realized, as soon as she set eyes on him, that she’d just married the wrong brother. Wow. This woman probably had all kinds of other cold-feet issues, but there was a story in there somewhere. So I got to thinking.

What if … there were two brothers. And, since a good book always needs lots of conflict, they don’t get along very well. What if one, the hero, is a star, and the other is a ne’er do well? What if the hero feels guilty because he’s so much better at everything than his brother? And what if they both fall for the same woman? Wouldn’t THAT screw things up?

What if there’s instant sexual chemistry and friction between the woman and the hero? What if she’s forced to work with him, even though she thinks he’s a jerk? What if the hero decides his relationship with his brother is more important than his growing obsession with this woman—the same woman his brother also wants? What if the hero decides to ignore his feelings for this woman? Would that work?

Would loyalty win, or would passion win?

Is there a story here? Oh, yeah.

The trick, I’ve discovered, is to go hunting for these little ideas and then wrestle them into submission. By the way, did I mention that in addition to not wanting to be found, they don’t want to be wrestled into submission? But if I work on them long enough, and ask enough what-ifs, I can sometimes—not always, but sometimes—emerge victorious, with a viable story idea.

I’m hoping I’ve latched onto a good idea for the proposal my agent wants, but I need to chew on it for a while. Ask a few more what-ifs. And, of course, figure out how to make things as bad as possible for this new hero and heroine.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

Things are looking up for lovers of historical romance.

This week I picked up THE WARRIOR, the debut novel by Zebra Books’ Heather Grothaus. This tale of Tristan, the Norman conqueror, and Haith, one of the conquered and the woman who haunts Tristan’s dreams, grips readers from the powerful prologue and doesn’t let go. Best of all is the compelling conflict that makes readers wonder how on earth these poor lovers will ever work things out and get together.

Grothaus has a strong, mature voice that belies her status as a newbie and I, for one, will be anxious to see what she writes next.

P.S. And note the beautiful cover!