I’m off soon for the 2011 RWA (Romance Writers of America) Conference, to be held this year in New York City.  It’s a huge conference with some 2,100 attendees:  agents, editors, aspiring writers, and published authors.  Inevitably, 99.9%  of the attendees will be female; the occasional male editor or agent must find the estrogen levels dizzying.

This will be my third conference, and I look forward all year to attending.  It’s energizing to have a break from the daily distractions of laundry, cooking, and playing fetch with the dog, though of course I’ll miss my husband and kids like mad.  The conference lectures and workshops always provide valuable advice on writing-related topics, from craft to career planning.  (I bow down to the presenter who taught me last year how to write a concise synopsis.)  The publisher who’s offered for my second regency has invited me to a cocktail party to meet their writers and editors.  I even have an appointment to pitch to an agent.  But, on a more basic level, it’s a simple joy to be around so many like-minded people:  dyed-in-the-wool romantics who fret about conflict and motivation, battle writer’s block, and refer to the characters in their head as if they’re real people.

This year I’ll get to spend face time with two of my Seattle-based critique partners, and I’ll have two upcoming releases to strategize about.  Who knows, I may even catch a show and try some real New York pizza while I’m at it.  But I absolutely, positively have to add at least twenty pages to my work-in-progress while I’m gone.  Because, you know, romances don’t write themselves.

I just received an offer from a publisher for my next regency-set romance, Ruined by Rumor.

The Earl of Ayersley has a problem:  he’s so head-over-heels for beautiful Roxana Langley, he can barely string two words together in her presence.  Make that two problems, because Roxana is already engaged to a dashing cavalry officer, a war hero who oozes excitement and savoir faire.  Having waited five years for Major George Wyatt to return from fighting the French, Roxana has such stars in her eyes she can’t see any man but him. But when George inexplicably jilts Roxana, she turns to the nearest shoulder to cry on, plunging herself into scandal with the least likely man imaginable:  the dutiful, tongue-tied Lord Ayersley. The earl’s offer of marriage may save her from ruin, but are they only trading one disaster for another when they both know Roxana loves another man?

I’ll have more details in coming weeks, but for now, you can read a passage from the story under the “Excerpts” link.