How do Whales "Do It?"

What I'm reading: Colby Rebuilt, by Debra Webb

The chaos continues. The painters begin today. We will probably be one step ahead of them in clearing things so they can deal with the walls. Rather than leave this space blank, or bore you with the delights of clearing and packing, I'm going to turn this space over to a friend and former colleague.

As some of you might remember, I used to work for a scientific organization that dealt with marine mammals, even though all I did was manage their membership database and conference registration. The following piece was written by Dr. Phillip Clapham, a large whale biologist (he's not large, the whales he studies are). I think you'll enjoy it. Then again, maybe it's just because I'm married to a biologist that I find these things interesting.

Warning: the article is about sex, so if the thought of these enormous creatures 'going at it' isn't your thing, come back tomorrow for the conclusion of Homicide- Hussey's venture into the paranormal. Actually, even if whale sex is your thing, you're invited back tomorrow, too.



As a whale biologist, I'm used to receiving all kinds of email enquiries about whale biology, and these frequently involve whale sex. "How do whales, you know, DO it?" is a pretty common question. Recently, I've spent a significant chunk of time answering questions from friends and members of the public about some alleged blue whale mating trivia that has been doing the rounds of the Internet. In an effort to resolve this issue, I provide here a correction to said fake trivia - as well as some real whale sex trivia to replace it.

You've probably seen the blue whale item. It says that male blue whales produce huge quantities of sperm when they mate (figures of up to 400 kg have been quoted back to me), and that "90% of this goes into the water". The "trivia" concludes by noting that no one should wonder why the sea is so salty. Ha ha.

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This little factoid sounds cute, but it's not accurate. No one has ever seen blue whales mate, so we have no idea how efficient this act is. Since Nature is usually very good at maximizing efficiency, it's very unlikely that much of the semen enters the water rather than its intended target in the female anatomy.

Although mating has never been observed in blue whales, it's been seen in some other whale species. It's likely that blues are similar in the way they get things done. In other whales, the very mobile tip of the male's penis (which is fibro-elastic rather than vascular as in humans) reaches over and inserts itself into the female's vagina. Mating is quick, and the only way that any semen would be spilled into the water is if the female suddenly decided to disengage at the critical moment (how inconsiderate of her). This is certainly possible, but again, no one's seen the act of copulation in blue whales, so we don't know.

Needless to say, the volume of sperm produced by a male blue whale in a single mating attempt has also never been calculated. While it's safe to say that it's large, we don't know details. And in terms of, well, endowment, blue whales - let's be frank here - do not stack up very well to other whales.

Let's look at some figures. Blue whales are the largest of all the whales, and indeed are the largest animals ever to have lived in our planet's history. At maximum weights approaching 200 tons and lengths of more than 100 feet, they make dinosaurs look like lightweights. A large male blue whale of around 26 meters (85 feet) would weigh well over 100 tons. That male's testes would weigh around 70 kg (150 lbs) for the pair.

Now while this may not sound like something that you'd want to have dropped on you from a great height, 70 kg is in fact very small relative to body size. If you want to look at the true he-men of the whale world, the blue whale is probably the last animal you'd pick. So which whale would you look at instead? I'm glad you asked...

This would be the right whale. Right whales are large, rather rotund animals that live in both hemispheres. There are three species, two of which (the North Atlantic and North Pacific rights) are, by the way, critically endangered thanks largely to whaling.

A large male right whale would be around 17 meters (55 feet) and would weigh about 75 tons - much smaller than a big blue. So how much do a right whale's testes weigh? OK, get ready for this. The combined weight of a right whale's two testes is...

One ton. Yep, ONE TON! As Dave Barry would say, we are not making this up.

OK, OK. I know what all you guys want to know next (and probably some of you women too), so to save myself from endless email enquiries, here's the parallel statistic. Right whales also have a longer penis than any other whale, or indeed anything else on earth. The average length of a right whale's member is around 2.3 meters (7.5 feet), or about 14% of its body length. And in case you're wondering, both penis and testes are internal (guys, you wouldn't want all that additional drag if you spent your life moving through the water, now would you?) But the penis can be extruded outside the body for mating.

So there you go. Right whales have such huge testes because their mating system is based on what's called sperm competition. Female right whales will mate serially with multiple males. Consequently, each male tries to produce a huge volume of sperm to out-compete that of the male who was, er, there, before him.

As a final slut-related note, it is anatomically possible for female right whales to mate with two males at the same time, and this has been seen on occasion. One male will lie on each side and the tip of each penis enters the female at the same time. Porn movies have nothing on these guys.

Don't forget - Homicide - Hussey's paranormal chapter concludes tomorrow. You won't want to miss it.

Catherine Kean announces her winner

Update: Catherine Kean has drawn a winner for her book. With little or no fanfare, it's KATHY OTTEN.

Congratulations, and thanks to all for leaving comments.

Looking at the New Old Days

What I'm reading: 7th Heaven by James Patterson & Maxine Paetro; Crime Scene at Cardwell Ranch, by B.J. Daniels; Colby vs. Colby, by Debra Webb

First: Catherine Kean will be announcing her winner after 5 PM today, so there's still time to read her post, leave a comment, and be entered in the drawing.

This is a very short post today, as we met with our realtor last night and he said we need to have the house ready to show before the Memorial Day weekend. As I type, the painter is working up his estimate to do the interior painting required to make the house presentable. It's turning into more work (and money) because the realtor also said that our walls had too much "stuff" on them, which means if we take it off, that leaves nail holes, which means we need a lot more painting done. Since the walls haven't been painted in years and years, there's no way the same paint color is the same paint color -- fading, etc.

So, as we scramble to get things ready, I'll leave you with a couple of cartoons that actually triggered my thoughts for Monday's Good Old Days post.

The first is "Pickles" by Brain Crane




The next is "Mutts" by Patrick McDonnell



Don't forget - read and comment on Catherine Kean's post by 5 PM today. And check back to see if you're the winner.

Catherine Kean and her Four-Legged Muse

Today I welcome author Catherine Kean to Terry's Place. She's generously offered a signed copy of any book mentioned in her blog post--DANCE OF DESIRE, MY LADY'S TREASURE, or A KNIGHT'S TEMPTATION--as a prize to one commenter. Make sure you leave a comment, and check back tomorrow to see if you're the winner!

I adore cats. Affectionate, stubborn, unpredictable, and full of mischief, they are, in my opinion, what a creative muse would be if given physical form. As a writer of medieval historical romances published by Medallion Press, and with a summer deadline looming, I call upon my muse every day. Some days it’s energized and inspiring me in creative leaps and bounds. On others, it stubbornly makes me question every darned word I type. I guess it’s safe to say I have a willful muse. As willful as the kitten we adopted a few months ago.

Looking back, I see cats have been with me through many milestones in my writing journey. As a child, nurturing my growing imagination by reading book after book, my constant companion was a long-haired orange and white kitty named Dandelion, who, like a true gentleman, suffered all kinds of indignities: wearing costume jewelry, being presented to my elementary school class for “show and tell,” and being dressed up in doll’s clothes. When, as a teenager I sat out in my parents’ garden, handwriting my first full-length novel (a young adult romance) in pencil in a lined notebook, he’d wander across the lawn to me, his fluffy tail in the air, to see if I would scratch his chin.

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While I was away at university completing my B.A. in English and History, Dandy ventured out one day and never came home. I was without a cat companion until I married, moved to Florida to live with my husband, and adopted a scrawny ginger male kitten from the local humane society. Since my husband is British, we called our kitty Tango, after a fizzy orange drink sold in England. Tango sat with me while I worked on my first contemporary romance novel, a truly awful manuscript which is tucked away in the back of my filing cabinet never to be looked at again.

While I typed, Tango curled up on the ream of printer paper nearby or sprawled on my computer desk, showing off his striped belly. Tango purred and danced in my arms to celebrate my first contest final and win, my first publishing contract, and the first time I saw a printed copy of my debut novel, Dance of Desire. When his kidneys started to fail, and I knew my time with him was drawing to a close, I immortalized him in the pages of my third paperback, My Lady’s Treasure, which is loosely based on the legends of King Arthur; Tango inspired the character of an ancient orange cat named Merlin.

When I had to make the difficult decision to end Tango’s suffering, I wondered if we’d ever adopt another cat. We’d taken in another humane society kitty some years ago, a sweet, gray tabby named Minton; maybe one cat was enough. But my daughter, a budding writer with oodles of talent, had never had the fun of a kitten. So, I found myself with my husband, daughter, and visiting parents at the humane society one morning last December. There, in the front cage, was a pinky-orange fuzz ball, who showed off for my daughter as though to say “I want to be yours! Take me home.” As we made plans for New Year’s Eve, and I celebrated finishing up galley proofs on my current release A Knight’s Temptation, Book 3 of my award-winning Knight’s Series, we welcomed Kai to our family. My daughter tells me Kai means “seashell” in Japanese. A good name, since he’s the color of the inside of a Conch shell.

Kai is incredibly cute, loving, and talkative. He’s also brimming with mischief—unlike Minton, who, at fourteen, is content to snooze most of the day. When I sit at my computer to write, Kai sulks outside my room and cries in his squeaky voice. If I ignore him—as in, say, when I’m concentrating on that thrilling scene where the hero and heroine are just a breath away from kissing, and the tension is so delicious that—Crash. Kai will knock something off the upstairs desk. Think he’s quiet because he’s fallen asleep? Weeeellllll, guess again. He’s more likely unrolling yards and yards of toilet paper in the spare bathroom.

Quite honestly, there are times with Kai when I could tear my hair out. I feel that way some days about my muse. Sometimes, the distractions of the phone ringing and doorbell dinging just seem to block the steady flow of words—just like Kai meowing outside my door. Other days, the inspiration flows beautifully, like Kai caught up in the glorious fun of toilet paper unraveling.

At the end of each writing day, though, my muse has always given me some good material for my work-in-progress. And, as I sit back on the sofa with my husband and daughter close by, with a soft, sleepy, purring Kai in my arms, I’m happy. Because, with my kitty muse, I’m complete.

For more information on Catherine Kean’s medieval historical romances, including her award-winning Knight’s Series, please visit her website at http://www.catherinekean.com

And be sure to check back tomorrow to see if you're her lucky winner.

Remember the Good Old Days?

What I'm reading: Broken Prey, by John Sandford.

Yesterday, we spent our usual Sunday morning at Panera with friends. We were talking about getting rid of "stuff", and what we were finding as we went through our "stuff" and the conversation segued to "I remember when…"

Both the men are scientists, and they were discussing the advent of the calculator that could do simple math. Now, how many people can do any sort of math, much less complex calculations, without a calculator. But then, a small machine that could extract a square root was a marvel. We came from the slide rule days. Anyone else remember those 8-foot slide rules mounted above the chalk board in math class?

I can still see Miss Rose marching back and forth in a Vanna White manner as she moved the slide and the hairline gizmo and showed us how to multiply, divide, and find things like sines, cosines, and logarithms. I still remember looking those up on tables in a book. I think math homework took a lot longer in those days.

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And phones. Leonard Nimoy tells a story of being on a street corner when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, flipped it open to answer, and passersby pointed, saying, "Beam me up, Scotty." Or what about Uhura's earpiece – Bluetooth?


Or television sets. Our first television was housed in a piece of furniture, although the screen itself was probably no more than twelve inches across (and not square.) It was powered by tubes, and repairmen were called out to replace them as they burned out.



Another memory – lettering charts. No Powerpoint in those days. They used rapdiograph pens and Leroy lettering sets to label their charts. As a matter of fact, our son owes his name to one long session where my husband was creating graphs. The X axis was months of the year, and hubby was abbreviating, using only the first letter of each month, on countless graphs. He came home that day and said, "If it's a boy (another 'good old days' thing—no ultrasound, You didn't know what you were going to get until birth day), we're going to name it Jason, because I've been writing it all day.

July August September October November.

I've got another pickup scheduled for Friday, this one by the Salvation Army. And I've "freecycled" my sewing machine, and a modest collection of LP records from the 60's. While it's true that one of those records might have some value, I opted to let someone else discover the possible treasure. They were all very well-worn. Nothing pristine, and we don't even have a turntable anymore. We'd copied most of them to cassette tapes, and now have them on CD or on our iPods. Not worth moving.

But yes, there's always the possibility that we're giving away something that would have been worth the trouble of researching value, advertising, shipping to a buyer. My father got rid of my brother's Lionel train set, and there was a run on them after they stopped making them. We let our kids play with their Barbies and Star Wars toys. Probably the biggest "oops" was when my folks tossed two pictures they'd had framed and hung in our childhood bedroom. They were freebies—a gift from a friend who was an artist, and he worked for Walt Disney creating animation cells. We had a picture of Pluto and Donald Duck that were original cells, and probably would be worth a pretty penny today.

My lazy streak says it's easier to type a one line header on an email and wait for someone to come take it away. Today I've gotten rid of a sewing machine that hasn't been touched in over 15 years, two Reebok slides leftover from a short-lived exercise fad, an ice cream freezer not used since the kids left home, and a box of cookbooks and recipes that haven't been used in at least a decade. I have enough recipes in the collection I'm keeping that if I wanted, I could have something different every day for the rest of my life. But I won't—we have our normal favorite meals, and although I try new stuff from time to time, I've found that reading cookbooks or even watching cooking shows, something I did endlessly years ago, merely results in spending too much time thinking about food, which leads to too much eating, which means I have to either spend more time at the Y or give up chocolate.

So, what do you remember from your personal 'good old days'?

Tomorrow, my guest is author Catherine Kean talking about dealing with her muse. Be sure to come back. She's giving away an autographed copy of one of her books – winner's choice – to one lucky commenter.

And don't forget my May contest. I'm finding all sorts of items to put into the prize package – and who knows. Maybe someday one of them will be a priceless collectible.

Homicide- Hussey: Adventures in the Paranormal 1

Today, Mark Hussey shares his venture into the paranormal. Who says police work is boring?
Tomorrow I'll be at my book signing. Sunday is Mother's Day (although hubby insists there's no need for him to do anything because I'm not HIS mother.) Have a great weekend.

Most cops, by the very nature of what they do, are stark realists. There’s an explanation for everything, and every action has an opposite and equal reaction. That’s why when something happens that can’t be explained in terms of black and white, it upsets the officer’s sense of balance. Oh, he’ll get over it, but not right away.

As I mentioned in an earlier chapter, the City of Lakeland is very rich historically. One such piece of history was established in 1927 by the United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and first opened its doors in 1929.

The Carpenter’s Home, as it was called, was built on a 2,000-acre tract of pristine land along the southern shores of Lake Gibson and bordered by US Highway 98 to the west. This Spanish style dormitory was built to house retired carpenters, many of whom had worked on the colossal wooden ships of another era, making their joints watertight. Master craftsmen, who at their age of retirement, were all but forgotten. These were true artisans. Machines now do most of the jobs done by these men, or men who couldn't care less about the quality of their work.

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At one time the property included the main dormitory, a three-story, 400-room Spanish style building, shaped like a huge letter “E”, with two long wings of rooms at each end of the main hall, and a 850-seat auditorium in the middle wing. This area was originally the main dining room. With high Victorian style ceilings and suspended crystal chandeliers, this area was one of the most beautiful.

Located near the main dormitory was a beautiful stucco water tower, with an observation deck overlooking the lake. Also along the lakeshore was the final resting-place of those retired carpenters who lived out their days at the home. At the time of the Carpenter’s Home closing in 1977, over 500 small white markers were placed in remembrance.

The home was once completely self-sufficient, growing all its own vegetables and fattening its own beef and hogs. The unused acreage was used to grow enough citrus to not only subsist but to provide a substantial profit.

In 1977 the last retired carpenter was shipped to a nursing home, and Joseph Plymate, the home’s superintendent since 1965, retired and closed the doors of the Carpenter’s Home forever.

In 1979 the Lakeland Assemblies of God church, under the direction of the reverend Karl Strader, purchased the Carpenter’s Home property to be used for its new church, school, and retirement home. Although the price was undisclosed, the property was purchased in 1978 from Ben Hill Griffen Inc., for $8.7 million dollars.

With Polk County real estate prices soaring, one can only imagine what the property brought in 1979.

On an August evening in 1980, I was training a young officer who had recently left the United States Army infantry as a Second Lieutenant. Vladimir Novanavich was a soft-spoken, no nonsense college graduate. It was difficult to carry on a conversation with the guy because of his constant seriousness and his obvious intelligence. The essences of practical jokes were completely lost on this guy, try as I might.

Vlad’s parents were Soviet nationals and Vlad had an acute sense of patriotism and loyalty. He just wasn’t sure police work was his calling. Tonight he would get a call that would make him even more unsure.

We had just finished dinner and were belching up some Church’s Chicken, when the radio crackled “One-oh-six-alpha.”

“One-zero-six, go ahead,” Vlad said.

“I’ve got a suspicious incident call at the Carpenter’s Home on North. 98. Meet with the security guard who heard noises upstairs.”

Vlad responded, “Fifty-one from Florida and the Boulevard.”

In training new recruits, I always try to encourage them to formulate a plan in their minds. To visualize what they might find when they get to the call. I then caution them not to get tunnel vision. In other words, to develop several scenarios in their minds just in case.

This call, for instance, could be a burglar, a prowler, kids playing where they don’t belong, or just the wind blowing against a loose shutter. It would be our job to investigate, search and locate the source of the noise, or to determine if the security guard was a little stir crazy.

When we arrived, I might have voted for the latter. Twenty-year-old security officer Luther Parton was about 5’3” tall and weighed about a hundred pounds.

His black leather belt was cinched so tightly around his waist, with the uniform shirt and trousers two sizes too large, that he looked like a tube of toothpaste, squeezed in the middle. Luther wore those black rimmed “Buddy Holly” glasses with real thick lenses. He seemed a little breathless when he ran up to the cruiser.

“I heard someone upstairs” he panted. “Then I was going up to take a look, my flashlight just quit.”

“What did you hear?” I asked.

“It sounded like voices,” the kid said. “Third floor of A wing.”

“Any other ways into this place?” my partner asked.

“No, they’re all locked and barred, just the front door, I checked them myself.”

When we entered the lobby area of the building I could see that at one time this was a grand architectural work of art. The exposed beams and huge wooden doors gave it an almost medieval look. “When's the last time the upstairs were checked?” I asked.

"This morning by the day shift,” the guard answered. “What’re you guys carryin' there?” He pointed to the gun on my right side.

“It’s a model 64 Smith, 38 special,” I replied matter-of-factly.

“Ever shoot anybody?”

Jesus I knew that question was coming. It was always easier to say no.

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

I let the rookie go up the stairs first, because I didn’t think we would find any bad guys and he needed the experience of searching buildings. This one would give him plenty. The interior of the building was 180,000 square feet. We checked the first floor together, tediously looking into every room. Opening the room doors first, then looking cautiously into the bathrooms and closets. The electricity was off in the building, and thus the air conditioner was off. All the windows had been boarded up. The hot, stagnant air inside the building made it difficult to breathe. Vlad and I began to sweat profusely.

And....that's all for this week. You'll have to come back next Friday for part 2. Trust me, it'll be worth it. Bookmark the site, or become a blog follower so you don't miss anything.

Books for Mothers Day?

What I'm reading: Loitering With Intent, by Stuart Woods

(and be sure to read to the end -- there's a Homicide- Hussey bonus for you)

I'll be with six other members of the Central Florida Romance Writers at Barnes & Noble in Orlando on Saturday: Dara Edmondson, Catherine Kean, Judith Gilbert, Shauna Hart, Michelle Young, and Cillian Burns. It's the day before Mother's Day, and there's normally a good turnout. But I have to wonder about the economy, and whether it will affect sales.

I know I haven't stopped reading – I can't imagine ever doing that – and although I've cut back on buying, it's more because of the idea of moving more books than I already have than because of the budget. I'm buying more e-books, simply because they don't take up space.

There are a lot of mixed feelings about used book stores. Some authors don't like them because they aren't getting royalties. It's never bothered me. I've found many new authors I might not have tried otherwise, and I'm more willing to take a chance with a discounted book. I think I found my first Susan Wiggs book at a used book store, and I've bought everything else she's written.

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Another budget-cutter is your library. I'm also a strong believer in libraries. I'm a strong believer in anything that gets people reading (as I'm sure many of you know from the countless times I've mentioned my association as a volunteer with the Adult Literacy League here in Orlando).

If you read yesterday's post, you saw that I'm having a contest that runs all this month. (I'll wait while you scroll down and read it – I'll find something else to put in the prize envelope while you do.)

You're back? Great. One of the 'rules' of the contest is that you check with your local library for one of my books, WHEN DANGER CALLS. The publisher, Five Star, targets the library market, and having it in as many libraries as possible is a triple bonus.

One, the publisher sells a book. Two, the author (in this case, me), gets the royalty. Three, the reader (you) gets to enjoy a great read at no cost. Of course, I have no objection to you deciding you just HAVE to have the book for your collection (or to give to your Mother for Mother's Day), but seriously, I know the hard cover books are pricey.

I'll be interested to see how it does at Saturday's signing.

So – how has the economy affected your book-buying/reading habits?

And, because tomorrow is reserved for Detective Mark Hussey's next installment, I won't be seeing you until Monday. If you're in Orlando Saturday (May 9th), drop by the Barnes & Noble at Plaza Venezia, 7900 W. Sand Lake Road, Orlando, FL 32819, between 1 and 4 pm. We're giving away a $15 Barnes & Noble gift card to one lucky winner – no purchase necessary. All you have to do is come in and say hello.

And, just because this post feels a little too much like a 'commercial', I'll leave you with a bonus. Last week, the beginning Civilian Police Academy class had their session on the Homicide Division. Their speaker was none other than Detective Mark Hussey. If you've been following his Friday posts (and if you haven't, shame on you – they're great!), you know he has quite the sense of humor. He opened his talk with his own personal Top Ten Reasons he became a Homicide Detective:

10. You develop the bladder capacity of 5 normal people.

9. Chances to teach seminars entitled “Suicide--getting it right the first time”.

8. Discussing dismemberment over a gourmet meal seems perfectly normal.

7. You can identify a negative teeth-to-tattoo ratio just by looking at someone.

6. Opportunities to hang out with a 10 day old stinker on the hottest day of the year.

5. It’s nice to be the only person introduced at social gatherings by your profession.

4. Exhaustion becomes your favorite hallucinogen.

3. Caffeine is available to you in IV form.

2. Advance notice of soon-to-be-available apartments and cars.

1. Free Chalk.

Be sure to come back tomorrow. His chapter is called "Adventures in the Paranormal."

Clutter Clearing Continues - with a contest

What I'm reading: In Their Footsteps & Thief of Hearts, by Tess Gerritsen

First, thanks to Beth Trissel for taking us on a trip through Virginia's countryside and history. And thanks to everyone who stopped by and left a comment.

Second: be sure to read the entire post. I've decided to have a Clutter Clearing Contest! Details at the end.

Our moving plans are moving. S-L-O-W-L-Y. Getting a house ready to put on the market is a stressful endeavor, and when the market is as down as it is now, it's even more so, because you have to make your home stand out—in a good way.

So, each gaze raises the tri-fold question: Donate, Take it with us, or Trash?

Two things I've discovered:

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One: It's Deductible. This is something that came free with Turbo Tax – I don't know if it's free otherwise. But it tracks all those charitable donations, and gives fair market value for just about everything. We're on our second donation load—and still the closets seem too full.

Two: Freecycle. There are things that don't make the donation grade, for one reason or another. Freecyle is a vast number of local networks that puts people who have stuff they don't want in touch with people who want it. I've signed up for the group in my part of town, and have already found homes for my 9 years of National Geographics and my 7 years of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. And tonight, someone's coming by to pick up bags and boxes of miscellaneous craft items that I will never use.
(Do you think anyone would want hubby's fish squirt gun?) Meanwhile there are the serious projects, starting with curb appeal. We've already painted the outside of the house. Re-screened the patio. Have someone coming to take care of windows that don't open properly, etc. Hubby has spread 2 truckloads of pine bark mulch in the yard. Then there are the little things inside. Touch up painting, cleaning the carpets, and heaven only knows when hubby will pack up the skulls. Somehow, those probably won't show well.



We still have to get rid of enough "stuff" so we can do the inside painting. Right now, there's no way anyone can get to the walls. So, I thought I might find another place to get rid of some of my "stuff." How about a contest? Winner will get a grab bag of whatever I can fit into a priority flat rate envelope. (Has to be the US, though – sorry). What will it be? I don't know yet. I have a LOT of stuff that won't be making the move. (No worries – you won't get a skull)



How to enter?


1. Check with your library and see if they carry my book, When Danger Calls. If they do, let me know which library. If they don't, please request it. Give them the title (When Danger Calls) , author (Terry Odell), ISBN 978-1-59414-723-4, Publisher: Five Star Gale/Cengage. Let me know you've requested it.

This is the honor system, but it won't cost you anything. Most libraries will probably let you do this over the internet.

2. Answer any ONE of these questions (answers on my website.)

a. What were the draft and final word counts for Finding Sarah?
b. What word did I have to use in the short story that let to Hurricane Breeze?
c. Who reviewed When Danger Calls in Orlando Magazine?

Email your answers to contest@terryodell.com.

The Rich History of Virginia

Today I welcome author Beth Trissel to Terry's Place. She shares her love of history triggered by a deeply rooted family tree. Welcome, Beth.


What it means to be a Virginian to the core. Not only have I lived in the Old Dominion for most of my life, but also several previous centuries in the sense that my family were among the earliest settlers of the Shenandoah Valley (1730’s/1740’s). My Scots-Irish forebears settled Augusta County in the southern valley with names like Houston, Patterson, Finley, Moffett and McLeod. These clannish people frequently intermarried, so I can tie in with many other early families depending on how I swing through the ancestral tree.



Initially, Augusta County, named for Princess Augusta wife of Frederick Prince of Wales, stretched northward from the present day county of Rockingham to include part of Page; to the South it extended the full length of Virginia’s border, and to the northwest it included the present day states of Kentucky, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and part of western Pennsylvania, all the territory claimed by Great Britain at that time.

Virginia is the site of the earliest successful English colony and rich in history. We’re steeped in it, especially in the Shenandoah Valley. How could I not be drawn to this wealth of stories? If the earth could speak what tales it would tell, some of them horrific; Virginia is also the site of more battles than any other state in the union, encompassing the Indian Wars, the Revolution and that most uncivil of wars, the Civil War.

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One account I came across in my studies of the early Scots-Irish influenced my writing more than any other, the tragic story of a captive woman who fell in love with the son of a chief. As the result of a treaty, she was taken from her warrior husband and forced back to her white family where she gave birth to a baby girl and grieved herself to death. Heart wrenching, it haunts me to this day.


I wondered what happened to her daughter when she grew up and if there were some way those young lovers could have been spared such anguish. I neglected to mention that the young woman’s warrior husband did the unthinkable and actually left the tribe to go and live among the whites, but such was their hatred of Indians that before he reached his beloved her brothers intercepted and killed him. I couldn’t let this happen to my young lovers, but how could I spare them? I schemed and dreamed and hatched more stories in the fertile ground of Virginia.


The most prominent tale that sprung from this account is Beth's new release, Daughter of the Wind, a light paranormal romance with strong American historical roots. Set among the clannish Scots-Irish in the mist-shrouded Alleghenies, it's a tale of the clash between peoples and young lovers caught in the middle.

For more on this and Beth's other releases please visit her website at: www.bethtrissel.com

RT Recap 4 - PMS: Phony Male Syndrome

What I'm reading: Heart of the Sea, by Nora Roberts; Keeper of the Bride, by Tess Gerritsen

I promised a continuation of my RT Recap with some workshop notes. Please note, these represent my interpretation of what the speaker said, and may be subject to faulty memory, lousy handwriting, or just unintentionally messing up what he said.

Raz Steel presented a workshop on "PMS: Phony Male Syndrome" where he discussed the male view of the world, of relationships, and of romance (and sex).

For those who have followed some of my other he/she workshop note-sharing posts, you might recall we often speak of the different ways men and women are hard-wired. This workshop fit right in with all the others.

Steel told us a story of his teenage years, when he and a friend went skating on a frozen pond near his home. They wandered away from the group and Steel ended up falling into the water when the ice gave way. His friend managed to get him out. Given the choice of returning home by skating back the way they'd come, or by hiking (in ice skates) through the woods, he chose the harder route.

Why? Steel contends it's the way males see the world. In any given situation, they will scan their surroundings first for sex, then for danger, and then for food. He elaborated on these very broad statements throughout the workshop.

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From his example, whether he gave it conscious thought or not at the time, he opted away from being seen by his friends, where he would look foolish for having fallen through the ice. This situation covered the first two of his premises. Of the friends he would have had to pass, some were girls. In his condition, he was far from able to attract one of them, and it might have spoiled chances for any future relationships. As for the boys—appearing the way he did put him at a distinctly lower slot on the male hierarchy. Did he think of all this on a conscious level when he made his choice? No. Meanwhile, his friend took the easier route, because he hadn't fallen through the ice. There was no loss of status for him. His reasoning: he could get back faster and get help.

Steel took each of these three steps in turn. First, scanning for sex.

Now, the scanning for 'sex' doesn't mean ending up in bed. It's more about men looking at and assessing women. Again, this is hard-wired, because survival of the species requires procreation.

The alpha male looks at the total picture when assessing a female. He sees her face, her overall shape, her posture, and her attitude. He's lured more by subtlety. Women trigger fantasies, and according to Steel, the strongest fantasy a male has with regard to a woman is one who can understand him, and who will accept him for what he his. His greatest fear? Of being rejected. Steel suggests that exposing the hero's fantasies will make him vulnerable, and therefore more sympathetic to the reader.

Next, a man will scan for danger. This doesn't mean flying bullets; emotional danger is just as much a threat, so bear that in mind when you're writing. Perhaps "fear" is as good a term as "danger."

First, he'll assess danger from other men. Do they ignore him? Accept him? Do anything that makes him feel inferior? After that, a man assesses the danger from women. He'll worry that she won't find him attractive, that she won't talk to him. Public rejection is a fear.

Thirdly, a man scans for food. This is a survival instinct as well. Food brings satisfaction. It also calms him. And, not the least significant factor, it gives him something to do with his hands.

So, Steel continues, the strongest drive is the possibility of sex. From that comes being aware of competition. Men are competing for acceptance and trust.

In discussing relationships (as opposed to sex), Steel mentions men usually limit their emotional exposure for fear of being rejected. Before they will pursue a true relationship, they must have high expectations of not being rejected.

The insecure male seeks relationships with men he feels are lesser than he is. He seeks relationships with women he feels he can control. (Note: these are NOT the guys you want to have as the heroes of your books—at least not at the end.)

The secure male wants a challenge. He's looking for a woman who presents a challenge. She needs to surprise him. If she's predictable, it's likely the relationship won't last.

The male's view of Romance:
Men see themselves as independent. Their emotional needs include acceptance, understanding, trust and respect. The insecure male sees romance as a stepping stone. For the secure male, it is the end.

The male's view of Sex:
The insecure male sees sex as a conquest, a triumph, something he deserves.
The secure male sees sex as the ultimate in sharing. It's consensual, and shows acceptance, understanding, and trust.

And as this ties in with writing – the author needs to address the priorities of the hero's emotional needs. Withholding acceptance will increase the sexual tension.

And, one other tidbit Steel shared, something women may not know. RECOS, which stands for Restroom Code of Silence. While women chat away in restrooms, men don't. There's an invisible line inside the door of a public men's room, beyond which speaking is simply not acceptable. (I haven't verified that with the XY's I hang with—anyone out there who can confirm or refute this?)


Come back tomorrow when my guest, Beth Trissel, gives us a peek into her deep Virginia roots.