Note the eye contact, the closeness of the bodies, how the shoulders are aligned, how Ilsa's lips are parted . . .

Telling the story of two people falling in love.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how characters dance around the sticky subject of love, about unrequited and star-crossed love, and why it’s so heart-breakingly beautiful.

While pondering (which seems almost like writing) I came up with some of my favorite examples in cinema. The first to come off the top of my head are listed below–what are some of yours?

CASA BLANCA

CASA BLANCA is one of the best examples of body language in film history, and the perfect “show don’t tell” of a tragic love triangle between Bergman, Bogart and Henried. Watch how Rick (Bogey) makes the outpouring of patriotism possible by instructing his orchestra to go along with freedom fighter Victor Laszlo as he rouses the crowd at the cafe into singing the French National anthem. It’s completely clear in that moment, from the resigned look on Rick’s face, that he’s going to let Ilsa (Bergman) go with her husband . . . though that fact isn’t revealed until the very last scene of the movie. http://youtu.be/HM-E2H1ChJM

LOVE ACTUALLY

In LOVE ACTUALLY, one of the sweetest examples of unrequited, love from afar comes from Keira Knightly (as Juliet) and Andrew Lincoln (as Mark).

Juliet has always assumed that her new husband’s best friend, Mark, hates her because he’s been so awkward around her. Watch their faces as it dawns on Juliet that Mark is beautifully, painfully in love with her  . . . HTTP://YOUTU.BE/WMEY-KFUQ3O

BULL DURHAM

Quite possibly one of the best romantic comedies ever written Kevin Costner (Crash Davis) and Susan Sarandon (as Annie Savoy)—in BULL DURHAM, these two butt heads over baseball, how to raise up a young rookie and how to avoid falling in love with each other. But it’s not the stereotypical “I love you-I hate you” nonsense.

Look how close Crash and Annie get as they argue–watch how they move, following each other, almost like a dance . . . and in the middle of the argument, he stops to comment on her clothing . . . the fact that he notices her provocative wardrobe says a lot . . . http://youtu.be/SFHIUmqMwJU

MOONSTRUCK

MOONSTRUCK is the story of two passions–Cher (Loretta Castorini) and Nicolas Cage (Ronny Cammareri) colliding–two people who should not fall in love, but are destined (or doomed) from the moment they meet.

Loretta is all set to marry Johnny Cammareri, when she meets her intended’s brother Ronny–the family dark horse.

Watch the way Cher leans into Nick Cage’s increasingly aggressive posture—you can see in their whole bodies how the argument is escalating to an intimate end . . . http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3479279897/

The Pizza Delicious guys made a heckovalot more off of their interview on NPR's All Things Considered than their Facebook ad . . .

about FB ads and what exactly FB does for authors, or for any business for that matter.

While I do think it’s important, I’ve only bought three books from recommendations from FB friends, and never one from an ad.

Then again, I’ve never bought a book based on a book trailer (no matter how great the trailer is), the now ubiquitous Author trading cards or ads in Time Magazine or Cosmo for that matter.

I buy books based on the recommendations of close friends, other writers (I’m a member of Austin Romance Writers–a group with an obscene percentage of talented, successful published authors), author interviews and books from authors I already know I love (like Robert B. Parker–who recently died, dammit).

So I listened with great interest to an article on NPR’s All Things Considered, about the affect of an FB ad for a very good but out-of-the-way pizza place in New Orleans–Pizza Delicious.

The shop is a little hole-in-the-wall takeout window and open only two nights a week.

NPR hooked the Pizza Delicious guys up with Rob Leathern, a social media ad guru, asking the question: Which Facebook users should they target with their ad campaign?

Their first idea was to target the friends of people who already liked Pizza Delicious on Facebook. But that wound up targeting 74 percent of people in New Orleans on Facebook — 224,000 people. They needed something narrower.

The Pizza Delicious guys really wanted to find people jonesing for real New York pizza. So they tried to target people who had other New York likes — the Jets, the Knicks, Notorious B.I.G. Making the New York connection cut the reach of the ad down to 15,000.

Seemed perfect. But 12 hours later, the pizza guys said “It was all zeroes across the board.”

Facebook doesn’t make money till people click on the ad. If nobody clicks, Facebook turns the ad off. They’d struck out.

So they changed the target to New Orleans fans of Italian food: mozzarella, gnocchi, espresso. This time they were targeting 30,000 people.

Those ads went viral. They got twice the usual number of click-throughs, on average. The ad showed up more than 700,000 times. Basically, everyone in New Orleans on Facebook saw it. Twice. Pizza Delicious got close to 20 times the number of Facebook fans they usually get in two days. The guys were stoked.

The campaign cost them $240 — almost $1 for each new Facebook fan they got from the campaign.

“Is that feeling of exhilaration worth $240?” the boys said. “I don’t know — hopefully that translates into new business.”

It didn’t.

After a long night of asking every single customer where they found out about Pizza Delicious, not one said it was through Facebook.

But while Greg took the garbage out, he checked his phone. And there was a message:

“Just found out about you guys via a sponsored Facebook ad if you can believe it. Super excited about your new place — happy to toss in a few bones over the top.”

That guy kicked in $10 to support the new restaurant.

“And that was cool,” Michael said. “We got some return on our ad.”

That return — $10 on a $240 investment — isn’t much.

Maybe at some point, the new Pizza Delicious fans will show up and buy some pizza. But social advertising is so new that nobody knows for sure. It’s still unproven, untested and largely unstudied.

Some companies, like Ben and Jerry’s, say they have gotten a big return. Others say they haven’t. On Tuesday, GM said it was pulling its Facebook ads because the ads haven’t done enough to generate new business.

But, as Facebook roars through the cyber water in Google’s wake, it’s doing what Google did–collect information. It tracks your “Likes” your friends, and other information we’ll probably never know about. And that’s where the money is.

So until FB comes up with an advertising model that targets your core audience, I’m going to stick with chatting with my FB friends, who I value and appreciate, and will work at getting my FB “Fan Page” (though I really hate the “Fan” tag) up and running.

And I’ll put my money in books I love, and hope others do, too.

Mama got it right. Siri's a smart ass . . .

not predict is what a co-dependent relationship the two would develop . . .

True shit Siri says to my mom:

~~~~

MAMA (to me): You mean I can ask her anything? Anything under the sun?

ME: Yes, anything. And she’ll answer you as long as you ask her right.

MAMA: Oh for heaven’s sake, I’m always polite!

ME: It’s not about being polite, it’s about asking the question in a way she understands . . .She learns what she thinks you mean as you talk to her.

MAMA: Alright. Syria, do yo love me?

SIRI: Syria, officially the Syrian Arab Republic is a country in Western Asia, bordering Lebanon and the Mediterranean Sea to the West, Turkey to the north, Iraq to the east, Jordan to the south, and Israel to the southwest.

MAMA: No, Syria. Do you love me?

SIRI: I don’t know what you mean.

MAMA (to me): She doesn’t love me?

ME: You hurt her feelings. Her name is Siri, not Syria. Like Sara, but with two “I’s” instead of two “A’s”.

MAMA: Oh. I’m sorry, Siri. Do you love me?

SIRI: I’m not allowed to answer that.

MAMA: Well, that’s just rude. Siri, I love you . . .

SIRI: Oh I bet you say that to all your Apple products.

MAMA: I don’t have any other Apple products.

SIRI: You’re kidding, right?

MAMA: Siri, are you being a smart ass?

SIRI: I’m just trying to help you.

Me: See, Mama, she’s learning already . . .

Mama with her new iPhone, Bodhi the Wonder Dog, and their new friend Jacob at a pet-friendly cafe, thanks to Siri . . .

My dog Bodhi (who thinks the sun rises and sets on my mother, and is correct) and I went down to Sugar Land for Mother’s Day to celebrate the holiday and help her with the big ice cream social she’d planned.

She’d also asked me to help familiarize her with Facebook and help her pick out a new cell phone, both tasks I took on with pleasure–I’d been after her for years to join the tech-civilization.

“You’re gonna love Siri!” I told Mama as we stood at the kiosk in the Verizon store. She looked at the little phone skeptically.

“But what if I don’t love her?” she said.

“Then you don’t have to keep her,” I said–the same thing, incidentally, I’ve said about every single stray animal I’ve ever dragged home. “But you’re going to love her, because here’s the thing—Siri can help you with all of your community projects! You can take lots of good quality pictures, and it’s got a voice activated schedule and address book. You’ll never have to use Outlook again! And look, it keeps everything organized!”

She glared at the phone, still skeptical, but I knew I’d struck a nerve with the community projects.

And the only thing Mama loves more than the word “organized” is the spanking fresh scent of Clorox on a Saturday afternoon.

Mama is one of those women, who, with her posse of similarly beautiful, like-minded women take on community improvement with a passion.

And, if anybody is fool enough to get in the way of the Ladies of the Terrace and their plans for neighborhood enhancement, he or she will be redecorated, re-purposed or removed.

“Look,” I said, snapping a picture of Bodhi. “You can take pictures of anything, including dog poo, and you can pop it in your PowerPoints to present to management.”

Mama’s eyes lit up.

She loves PowerPoint and has been on an ongoing crusade to persuade irresponsible pet owners to pick up their poo. Mama loves dogs, but greatly dislikes dog poo.

I knew that Siri had her when Mama’s pretty blue eyes lit up with possibility.

But to tie a big ribbon on that particular pink bow, I said, “Watch,” then spoke into the phone as Mama held Bodhi’s leash outside the Verizon store. “Siri, where is the nearest pet-friendly restaurant?”

And Siri immediately shot off a list of fourteen little bistros and bars with outdoor patios. One even had a dog menu.

Mama was sold, and she picked out the pinkest, blingy-est case in the store.

A warning to those who cross her at the next community meeting: Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Here comes Mama. And she’s got an iPhone.

We visited the Texas State Aquarium . . .

Did you know dolphins don’t sleep, they “snooze.” I always wondered how they rested when they have to surface to breathe . . . what you can’t see here is Kai the Dolphin was snoring, with cute little air bubbles fluttering up . . .

And we visiting the aircraft carrier USS Lexington–it was amazing to think of all the soldiers who spent so many months in such tiny, cramped quarters, heading for Japan in WWII . . .

and the condo was lovely . . . complete with pelicans

and a little chipmunk, who did come up for some snacks, but was too quick to get a picture . . .

and Chap made a friend . . .

or two . . .

and we sat at sunset and watch dolphins guide the ships through the channel . . .

It was a terrific, relaxing three days . . . hope your week went lovely, and we’ll see y’all on Monday!

Body Language of Falling in Love: Note the tipped up gaze, the close proximity of the embrace, the hands placed near the vulnerable neck . . .

As writers, we need to think about these thing, then take those details and use them when we write. To do this, think of ways you would Tell how it felt to fall in love . . .

What kind of love was it? First love often feels like falling head over high heels, while unrequited or star-crossed love can feel like a kick in the gut, like someone has ripped your heart out and given it a good Size 13-stomping.

Consider this example of Telling rather than Showing:

~He was tall, and she felt shy and awkward. Her heart beat faster and her stomach flipped, making her knees go weak. When he shook her hand and introduced himself, she couldn’t speak

*This is like a laundry list. It doesn’t show you anything about the characters, only that she’s attracted to him. A friend I was helping once said, “Oh, well, everybody knows what it feels like to fall in love.”

Well, that may or may not be true, but as writers, we’re supposed to make them feel it again.

If you’re having trouble, it helps to get into deep Point of View, to write in First Person, write from the “I” point of view–you can always  go back later and change the pronouns (She) later.

*Use sensory detail along with dialogue and action to really grab your reader by the nose and yank her into the story.

Now Show the act of falling head over high heels in love . . .

~He stepped closer and he was so tall that I had to tip up my chin in order to keep his dark gaze, and as his arm brushed mine, electricity buzzed through my veins like someone flipped a switch. His dark eyes made little crinkles at the corners as he smiled down at me, sending my heart tapping into a little two-step around my ribcage.

As he took my hand in his, my whole body swooped like the down-drop on a roller coaster, and I breathed in the smells of good soap and fresh-cut grass and the slight smell of cordite from the firing range.

His large, slightly calloused hand covered mine, gripping my palm, and his smile broke into a grin as he said, “Tom Logan,” his fingers lingering over mine.

I blinked and swallowed, and I tried to speak but my mouth went dry. I was stricken temporarily speechless . . .

* When you write, think about the most intense moments of your life and ramp them up. How can you write it to make it more intense? Use as many details and as many of the Five Senses as is practical without forcing it.

We, as the reader, need the character’s details, her innermost thoughts and what it would actually feel like to be in her situation.

What did your First Love feel like?

Notes for Novelists: Get creative~clip research notes, pictures to a clothesline in a Time Line above your desk . . .

straight, organize my thoughts and, let’s face it, get all the crap off my desk, table, bed . . .

Once you get organized, there are a couple of things that I adapted to fit my writing style that really help get me get my characters “in character,” adapted from an article I once read in

See how I organized notes for SCOOP . . . Click here to buy it now for $2.99!

The Writer Magazine . . .

My crime scene beach towel . . . cheery, yes?

We weren’t there long, and because my back is still killing me, we were limited in what we could do (or what I could do anyway), and stuck to a tour of The Texas State Aquarium and the USS Lexington aircraft carrier. TIP: Don’t bother watching the onboard movie–we thought it would be about the ship and the men who manned the counter attack on Japan, but no, it was a big long commercial for Boeing airplanes.

We spent the evening with a walk on the beach and a swim in the pool, I settled onto my crime scene beach towel to read The Judas Goat, a Robert Parker novel I hadn’t read yet, when Chap threatened to do one-armed pushups if I didn’t put the book down (something Spenser, the character in the Parker novels, does when he’s acting like a 12-year-old boy).

Despite Chap’s best efforts, I managed to finish the book (which was awesome as usual) and did a lot of lolling about, watching people, guessing occupations and backstory, who was with whom, for how long and how they met . . . all the things writers do when we’re not writing–or reading, when a crew of three women and two men showed up looking like they were on the downward side of middle-age.

If they hadn’t come in together (and hadn’t all had the same kind of floaties), you’d never guess they were friends. Or family. Or both.

But it was interesting to see who kissed who, who braided who’s hair, and wondering what was up with one of the women who went around kissing every one. Hm.

What is it about being at the beach that turns men into 12-year-old boys?

Then one of the women got her floatie, a mixed drink and a book and gingerly entered the pool, careful not to get her hair wet or get chlorine in her drink.

Of course, one of the men, under the influence of being of beach-condo-itis, waited ’til she’d floated a little further out and was facing the other end of the pool . . . and he cannon-balled her.

Grinning, Chap turned in his chair and looked at me. “Wanna get in the pool?” he said.

Not looking up from my book, I said, “Don’t even think about it, Bucko.”

Sexual tension's about what you don't see . . .

Cauley and Logan.

*insert head smack and a big Duh!*

I’m reading all the Robert Parker books I never got around to, and one of them is called Play Mates, about a basketball star, and I hadn’t read it because I don’t like basketball. And then I realized, it’s not about basketball, dummy, it’s about Spenser, one of the best characters ever written. I never get tired of him~I mean really, with dialogue like “I am trustworthy, loyal and helpful. But I struggle with obedient” how could you go wrong?

So, I’m revising Morgue File, and ramping up the sexual tension between Cauley and Logan, reminding myself with each swipe of my red pen, it’s not about heads in a box . . .

~Morgue File

“Well, this is disappointing. I thought you’d be naked.”

“It’s nude,” I said. “And the nude portion of the festivities were last night,” I buckled into the passenger side of Logan’s battered blue Bureau car. I thought I heard him choke.

After four hours of sitting on a rock surrounded by naked people, getting hungry and sunburned and cranky, I decided GiftedStephanie was probably a no show.

“So, is that what it’s like being on a stakeout?” I said, tightening the top on a bottle of murder-red nail polish and admiring my freshly tipped toes. “You sit on a rock and wait for hours for something to happen?”

“Yeah, except for the nudists.” He grinned. “And probably most of us don’t paint our toes. You got any aloe?”

“What?” I frowned, pulling his rearview mirror so I could look at my face. I immediately wished I hadn’t. Red and white stripes streaked my face, apparently where I hadn’t spread the sunscreen evenly. “Yikes,” I said and he grinned.

“Next time call me and I’ll help you with the suntan lotion,” he said.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know if there’s going to be a next time—my source didn’t show.”

“Source of what?” he said and I sighed.

“I was meeting a confidential source and I didn’t go alone, Beckett and Jenks went with me,” I said.

“Yeah. That’s why I’m driving you home…not that I’m complaining…”

“The guys were playing poker and they were winning, so I called you. I figure you owed me one for leaving me with that toad last night.”

Logan chuckled. “I owe you for a lot more than that.”

We pulled into my driveway and Marlowe bounded out of the car, bounding and yipping with a whole body wag around Logan as we headed up the wide, white steps of the front porch. I knew how the dog felt. Since Logan called to tell me was back in town, I felt like I’d been plugged into an electric socket and set on hold. He must have sensed the tension, because he paused near the top step so that I was nearly eye-level with him. When he’s gone, I forget just how tall he really is, just how dark his eyes are, just how strong the pull is . . .

And then he kissed me.

His lips barely brushed mine as his large palm pressed warm against the small of my back and he kissed me again, harder this time and my breath went away.

“I missed you, kid,” he said, his voice like a shot of good whiskey.

I gasped, answering his kiss with my own.

He groaned and I pulled him up the step, so I had to reach up to my tiptoes, my arms sliding around his neck and then he kissed me hard, backing me into the doorway, where he stopped.

Marlowe growled. I knew how he felt.

I blinked up at Logan, confused, but he took me by the shoulders and set me aside, his finger to his lips. Marlowe bristled and in a split second, Logan kicked open my door.

“What the–?” I stammered as Logan yelled, “Freeze! FBI!”

Marlowe was in the door like a streak of silver lightning, teeth flashing as he went. Logan was right behind him, weapon drawn.

“Hey, hey, hey!” yelped a tall, blond man who’d been lounging on my sofa, drinking my last Corona Lite beer and watching my television.

Marlowe seized his arm, his sharp teeth sinking into flesh and the man howled in pain. The beer went flying and before I could say a word, Logan had the guy on the floor, his un-Marlowe’d arm wrenched behind his back.

“Cauley!” the man yelped. “Get them off me!” he yelled. “Tell them I’m your husband!”

“Ex” I said. “He’s my ex-husband.”

Logan let go with some reluctance, I thought, and Dr. Frank “Fetch” Peters staggered to his feet, favoring both arms and trying to send me one of his trademark, make-you-melt grins.

I scowled at him.

The toad, it seemed, was back.

Special nose-print cleaner not included . . .

Like everything else, you can’t just flip on a device and expect pets to be digitally babysat 24/7.

Now along comes Dog TV– an entire cable network, guaranteed to turn your pooch into a couch potato.

My question is, if I can’t tear the steps away from the tube, how am I going to get Bodhi to turn loose of the remote? And do I really want my dog to suffer the same kind of brain rot as their human siblings?

According to people who “know,” DogTV is the first cable network to deliver 24-hour programming for dogs. The idea, they say, is that flipping on the channel while you go out for the day will keep your pet stimulated, entertained and relaxed. Call it “Sesame Street” for those who will never learn their ABCs.

Ha! Bodhi’s known his ABCs since he was a puppy. Go ahead, spell V-E-T, B-A-T-H or T-R-U-C-K and T-R-E-A-T and see what happens. The dog goes ape shit.

The shows on DogTV are three- to six-minute segments featuring grassy fields, bouncing balls and humans rubbing dog tummies. There are also segments featuring noiseless vacuum cleaners and muted doorbells to help make dogs more comfortable around such common household agitations.

For instance, officials explained, “For dogs who suffer from separation anxiety, DogTV is a tool that might help ease them, so maybe they’re not getting into trouble, and they’re happier, more relaxed, when you get home.”

Of course, the other thing we learned at the vet clinic is that if you spend time with your pets, give them lots of exercise and positive re-enforcement, they’re a lot less likely to tear shit up, chew shit up and bark like maniacs. Kinda like kids.

Go figure.