Like librarypat, who commented here yesterday, I love pulp covers, and have a bunch. IOW, yet again, I have nothing to say here (except Sandy L? Beach? Drinks? Okay, officially hate you).

I have a No Husband Night tonight, so I plan on writing. PLAN ON being the operative words. I have a novella to finish, and a half-finished book to finish. Not that I’ll do all of that tonight, mind you, but I have to keep my goals in mind.

Happy Bloomsday!

This image doesn’t even need my comments.Although I have to ask, how lame does the woman in back feel:

Hi, I’m all naked and have a fancy stick and everything, but all I get to do is the shimmy back here. Missy up front is getting nice and friendly with the skull-pole, and what have I got? A freaking mask. Yeah, shake your own self, buster.

Awhile back, I got a whole mooseload (which is a number roughly equal to well, well over a thousand) of these scans on disc from a cool website, www.bookscans.com. I love pulp covers, I love Bettie Page, and mid-century modern furniture and barkcloth. Not ashamed to admit it. Today, I was looking for some inspiration to see me beyond a) my sneezy cold b) my insanely messy house and c) my general malaise (Not General Malaise; that would be a character in a Thomas Pynchon novel or something).

So I found these, and got a smidge inspired.

It’s funny, until I started writing I didn’t realize how visual I was; for example, until I have the faces of the hero and heroine in mind (Lessons In Love is Marina Sirtis and Jason Lewis; Road To Passion is Maggie Gyllenhaal and Clive Owen; A Singular Lady was Hugh Jackman and a stylized, i.e. much prettier, younger, and bustier, version of me), I can’t write the book.

Megan