Other Lives - Deirdre Martin

Writing is hard work. Really, really hard work. On days when I feel that writing is the equivalent of working on a chain gang, I daydream about doing something else for a living. My top escape fantasies are:

* Become a mailman. Woman. Person. Whatever the politically correct term is. The big attraction to this job is that I’d get to walk around all day, so I’d get really thin. Plus, I’d get to wear a uniform, so I wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear. This is of crucial importance to someone who once opened her front door wearing lemon colored harem pants and a Ringo Rocks! t shirt from 1975. On the negative side, I haven’t figured out yet how to handle the heat of summer. Note to self: see if mail people can do their job in the nude, as long as their mail satchels are strategically placed.

* Join the Merchant Marines. There’s no age limit to this profession, as long as you pass the physical. How hard could it be? I’m sure all you have to do is be able to climb a mast and properly wield a telescope. Plus I love to travel, I love the ocean, and sleeping in a mesh hammock is Number Four on my Bucket List.

* Work on a cruise ship. I’d be a really good entertainer: I can juggle, and I can also sing Bonnie Taylor’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” perfectly. I could easily brush up on my kazoo skills as well. Seriously: who doesn’t love kazoo music? Have you ever heard “Memory” from the Cats done on a kazoo? Haunting. I’m not kidding.

* Visit elementary schools as a Mary Todd Lincoln impersonator. This one is actually the most viable: I’m plump, I’m moody, and I have a very tall husband with a beard who puts up with me. I’ve been trying to talk him into playing Abe to my Mary, but so far it’s a no go.

Alternate: visit nursery schools as Dora the Explorer. She’s little, plus we have the same haircut right now.

* Get a job as Bono’s personal secretary. I know, I know, I know: he’s the size of Rumpelstilskin and he never shuts up about aid to Africa. But I’ve had a mad crush on the man since 1981, when U2 released their first CD, Boy. Think about what a cool job it would be to be his PA: “Could you please call Edge and ask if he got his check for three hundred million dollars from the last tour? Because I haven’t yet. Also, you know that luncheon I’m having tomorrow at the Plaza to raise money for impoverished romance writers? Find out if Obama has any food allergies. And when you make the seating chart, make sure to put Tom Clancy next to me. I hear he’s very generous, and I’m sure I can talk him into making a huge donation for these poor, struggling souls.”


Of course, if I ditched my profession, I wouldn’t have been able to write books like ICEBREAKER, the latest in my New York Blades series.

Here’s the back cover blurb:

They may play the game differently, but they’re after the same goal.

Good thing high-powered attorney Sinead O’ Brien has a rule about never dating clients. Because Adam Perry, the newest star of the New York Blades—and her newest client—has her headed for the penalty box. If only she could prove he’s just another jock…

Adam’s been charged with assault after a borderline hit on another star player, but off the ice he’s a private, no-nonsense guy who knows the Blades are his last shot at Stanley Cup glory. Assembling her case, Sinead tries not to get distracted by Adam’s dazzling good looks or strong work ethic, but she quickly discovers that there’s a wounded man under that jersey, and she’s starting to fall for him—hard.

Now Adam’s having trouble focusing on the goal with Sinead in his sights. And Sinead is tempted to break her ‘no dating clients’ rule. Can they play on their newfound feelings without penalties?

Intrigued? Check it out: ICEBREAKER hit the shelves yesterday. Now where did I put those harem pants….

To find out more about my New York Blades series as well as The Wild Hart Saga, check out my website at www.deirdremartin.com.