Lubber Vs Lovers

 

 Hello Dear Readers,                                                     

Today is a sort of reminiscing. Actually, it’s called procrastination because I should be working on my newest novel, Murders at Buzzards Bay. I’m almost to the point of writing “The End,” but I’m having a problem drawing it all together so readers can enjoy the final ah-ha moment.

When that happens, I find that if I take a little break and focus my thoughts elsewhere, a new idea will magically bloom. Fingers crossed that a little seed will sprout in my brain while I’m walking down memory lane.

I’m reminded of a funny incident that happened at a book signing. I’m a multi-genre author. At this particular event I was showcasing my romance novels. Quite often, people come to authors’ tables and want to tell their life story or talk about wanting to write the great American novel, then list all the reasons that keep them from writing.

I noticed a lady standing off to the side, patiently waiting, but at the same time getting a little antsy. When the group left my table, I motioned her over. Now, remember, I was showcasing romance novels, both historical and contemporary. 

The lady said she had asked one of the librarians (did I mention this book signing was held at a public library) to help her find the answer to a particular question. The librarian had referred her to me. Here’s the question: “Can you tell me how lubbers’ mate?”

I honestly thought perhaps she had a lisp. To clarify, I replied, “You want to know how lovers’ mate?”

She nodded her agreement. Yikes!

I was trying to figure out how to describe the process of mating without embarrassing either of us. To create steamy sex scenes on paper is one thing, to vocalize it is, well…awkward. I ask if she was married. Then I thought that maybe her husband wasn’t such a hot lover and she thought because I wrote romance, I could enlighten her. Double Yikes!

I picked up a copy of The Witching Moon and said the book had several steamy love scenes if she cared to read it.

The woman stabbed me with an impatient look and said, “No, no, no. LUB-bers!”

Lubbers? I still thought maybe something was wrong with my hearing. I asked if she would spell the word. L.U.B.E.R.S. Well, it turns out that she was asking about grasshoppers. Yep, you read that correctly—grasshoppers Specifically, the eastern lubber grasshopper native to Florida.

I apologized profusely and encouraged her to ask the librarian to direct her to the entomology section. After the book signing was over and the library was mostly empty, the librarian came to my table and apologized for sending the lady to me.

I didn’t feel so bad because like me, the librarian had also misunderstood lubbers for lovers. We both had a good laugh.

Time to get back to writing. I’m still stuck about how to end the story. Very Big Sigh! Any suggestions?

Until we meet again,

HAPPY WRITING!

Loretta

The Witching Moon