FRW Blog

The Florida Romance Writers and Author Pearl Wolf

10th March, 2010 - Posted by Mary Ricksen - 9 Comments

Welcome to Russia.  We are here to welcome Catherine The Great to our Blog.  The Monarch is resplendent in her fabulous dress. It has a satin and brocade bodice with ruffled long sleeves, satin skirt with trailing brocade overskirt and gold metallic trim.   Pompeiian in her decorating style, with it’s delicate violet glass columns crowned with bronze capitols, walls paneled with felt and covered with more glass, this time milky white and exquisite gilt, she loved her home at Tharskoe  Selo.  She has agreed to speak to us and give us some insight into her life.

Your Majesty we are The Florida Romance Writers and we are grateful that you have allowed us to intrude. Lady Mary introduces them one at a time. The ladies of the FRW are dressed in satin and silk in a brilliant array of colors. Curtsy will you all, or bow, don’t just stand there, Lady Mary whispers to the others who have attended. Lady Rosemary, I thought you had them in some sort of order. They are all shoving to get closer to the Empress, look they knocked Lady Sue, I can’t believe it, help her  up will  you guys.  Never mind.  Lady Kathleen, you first, then the rest follow, Lady Heather, Lady Bonnie, Lord Michael, Lady Joan, come on ladies. Hurry up will you Lady Traci, those shoes are too much, and Ladies Kimberly, Kristin, Sharon, Mona, Patrice, come on I can’t name all of you step lively. By the way, Lady Kathleen you have something on the tip of your nose. Lady Kathleen, our president, looks down at her nose, Lady Lyn, laughs and brushes it off for her.  Everyone looks just lovely and Lady Lisa directs everyone to their seats below the Tzaress. She steps up, curtsies,  and rushes to her own seat, just behind Lady Mary. All of the FRW people are mesmerized as Empress Catherine The Great speaks.

Yes , I am so pleased that you are all here. I drink a lot of coffee and I am a reader, when I have the time. So, we will partake of refreshments when I finish.

I love caviar and blinis, but Beef Stroganov gives me indigestion.  I pretend to love vodka, but my ladies-in-waiting fill my glass with water to keep me from getting drunk in order to fool the uninitiated.  I must always keep my wits about me to ward off the naysayers.  Allow me to explode two myths my enemies love to publicize:  One:  I am NOT a czar-killer, nor have I ever given any such order.  Poor Czar Ivan was incarcerated in Lubyanko Prison as an infant well before I became czarina, for heaven’s sake.  I promise you I had nothing to do with his accidental death.  As for my husband, Czar Peter, it was certainly unfortunate that my overeager supporters  (the Orlov Brothers who put me on the throne, they say, but who knows?) murdered him, but it was NOT on my orders.  Was it my fault that Peter, the poor fellow, had lost his wits and was incapable of ruling anything more than the toy soldiers he played with?  Two:  I NEVER slept with a horse!  Honestly, whoever perpetrated that lie needs a few years in Siberia to reflect on his inclination to misinform my adopted country.

I freely admit that I am a sensual woman who cannot live without a man in her bed.  The younger, the handsomer and the sexier the better, in fact.  I have had scores of lovers in my long life, but people say that Potemkin was the great love of my life,and that I married him in a secret morganatic marriage, and that I destroyed all evidence of this when he died.  I leave it to future historians to decide whether or not this was true.  I did love this brilliant man with all my heart, but he had glaring faults.  The worst one?  His insane jealousy nearly destroyed me.  It was only after our sexual relationship ended that we were free to become genuine soul mates.  You cannot know how helpful this giant of a man was to me.  He conquered much of the Ottoman Empire and named a city after me.  How cool is that, I ask you?  Most important, Potemkin carefully chose all my lovers for me, except for the last one.  He could not abide the twenty-year-old Zhubov, though I found comfort in the dear child’s arms.  I’m dead, but I know I’m bound to be reincarnated into someone brilliant, a historical romance writer perhaps . . .”

We all know who that turned out to be our own Pearl Wolf. Let’s give her a hand and see what interesting things we can learn about her. Help yourselves to the chocolate fountain, the tables are loaded with hors d’oeuvres, we have sandwiches, salads, finger foods and the drinks are on me. Pearl has a lot to say!

In my former life, I was Catherine The Great and if you think it easy to rule a great country like Russia, think again, especially if you aren’t a native born Russian.

I like to entertain the fantasy that I might be the reincarnation of Catherine The Great, a misunderstood woman I greatly admire.  She was brilliant, she was beautiful, she was powerful, she was sexy and she loved to write.  ”I cannot live without a man in my bed,” she once said.  You may think this meant she was lustful, but I think it meant she yearned for the comfort of a perfect loving relationship.  Who doesn’t?

Who am I?

I am the youngest of four children, raised during the Great Depression by a single parent who was widowed at the age of thirty-six.  My mother never wished to remarry.  Instead, she wrapped her life around her children.  I’ve learned that I am a lot like her in that I cling tenaciously to my goals.

What words of wisdom do I cherish?

Rule One:   ‘Live each day is if it is your last and you will have no regrets when that last day comes.’

Rule Two:  ’It’s NOT the destination, it’s the journey.’

How do I plan my work day?

After breakfast, when my mind is freshest, I like to write for two to four hours, depending on how creative I feel.  After lunch, I deal with necessary research, publicity, emails, and personal business.  After dinner, I relax by playing duplicate bridge at a club, being with friends, going to a film or a play.  I am an ACBL life master, a goal having nothing to do with money, of which I am proud.  I try to fit in daily exercise and I try to eat right, but I don’t always succeed in either worthy goal.

What advice can I offer an unpublished author?

Never give up your dream of becoming a writer.  Turn the dream into reality by working hard to achieve it.  Join writer’s groups where you will begin to learn your craft.  Become part of a critique group whose feedback on your writing is constructive.  Read, read, read!  Write, write, write!  Don’t be discouraged by those rejection letters from agents and editors.  To quote Samuel Beckett:  ”Ever tried.  Ever failed.  No matter.  Try again.  Fail better.”

My pet peeves?

Arrogance:  Anyone who, upon learning that you are a published author, asks for the name of your editor or your agent because they’re THINKING of writing the greatest literary novel that is sure to become a best seller.

Book Reviews:  The ones that trash your book, written by ANONYMOUS.

Criticism:  Constructive comments are always welcome, in playing bridge as well as in writing.

Here is an excerpt from TOO HOT FOR A RAKE (Kensington, April 2010)

The setup:  Lady Helena Fairchild, daughter of the Duke of Heatham, nervously awaits her father’s approval to her marriage.  Impatient. she bursts into the library hoping to force her stubborn father’s hand.

“Have you decided my fate, then?  How kind, Father.  How very kind.  With all due respect, I beg to differ.  No matter what you have to say to it, I am determined to marry Lord Waverley.  I am well aware of the fact that his reputation is less than sterling, but that is my own affair.  If I don’t care one whit, why should . . .anyone?”

“I see, but . . .”

Her eyes blazed.  “Rake or no, this man was prepared to die to save me from ruin!  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Noble of him, but I’m trying to . . .”

“I might have died when that horrid Harry Trasker locked me in the old cellar.  Indeed, I might not be here if the Earl of Glynhaven had his way.  I’d be in France suffering the humiliation of being wed to the worst scoundrel in the world.  Lord Waverley risked life and limb to save me.”

“So you’ve said, Helena.  However, . . .”

“If you think to throw up in my face once again the fact that the man I love is a rake, you may save your breath because I know all about his past and I don’t care!  I love him and I’ll never give him up.”

Exasperated, her father put his hand up and thundered,  “Be silent, daughter!  Yes, he is a rake.  He’s known all over Paris as . . .”

“Le roue’ Anglais!” She folded her arms in defiance.  “What difference can it make to you, if it makes none to me?”

Provoked beyond endurance, the duke was roused to anger.  “And if you find he hasn’t reformed his ways after you marry, what will you do then, daughter?”

“He wouldn’t be the first man to do such a thing, would he?  Are you not the perfect example of such a case?”

The duke turned beet red.  “Don ‘t force me to change my mind, Helena, a thing I can bloody well do even though I’ve just given my blessings to this marriage!”

Pearl, you truly are a Lady! Thanks for telling us about yourself. You are one amazing woman and we are all proud to know you. Thanks for coming everyone. Please help yourself to the food and say hey to Pearl. We love her, and her stories, and we know you will too! Oh, hey, don’t forget to buy Pearl’s book.