Kathleen's Winners

Keri Ford and Virgina! E-mail kathleen.eagle@comcast.net with your mailing addresses, ladies. You've won Sam Beaudry. Thanks for joining the party, everybody.

Happy Halloween!

Look What's Rising In Kathleen's Garden

This was my raised bed garden back when all that was planted in it was alive and well.



















This is my raised bed garden with everything mostly dead and nearly buried.












Both of these projects were orchestrated by my grandchildren, and they've been thrilled to show them off to visitors. They love reading the grave markers aloud and setting the bones to their satisfaction. The little ghosts hanging on the potting bench were last year's kid craft--styrofoam balls, pipe cleaners and cheesecloth, which is best stuff for Halloween decor. We draped the Amish rocker in it. The ghosts that replaced the hanging flower were easy--white wire hangers make the frames. The big spider web was purchased, but the kids made the spiders from pipe cleaners and puff balls (or whatever the craft store calls them) with pony beads for eyes. We bought a couple of big, hairy spiders to attach to the screen, which has to be replaced come spring anyway. It's been raining like cats and dogs lately--perfect weather for ghoul gardening.


















I do love to watch the holidays come alive in the eyes of children. Christie's costumes are fantastic. Did anyone see "Mad Men" on Sunday? The Halloween scenes brought back memories. The little girl comes out in a costume we Boomers remember well. "Do I look like a gypsy, Daddy?" And the boy is a hobo a la Red Skelton. We didn't put up decorations back in the day, but we put together our costumes from the trunk in the attic or the "rag bag."

And we got to wear makeup! In "Mad Men" the kids are told that those costumes you got in boxes at Woolworth's were "cheap." Mama's words exactly. Cheap meant poorly made, not inexpensive. Store-bought costumes are big business nowadays, and they may be cheap, but they're not inexpensive. Ah, but they're made well enough to provide hours of dress-up fun over the winter. And we do love to play dress-up, don't we, girls?

What's your best Halloween memory or party treat or decor trick? Ever been room mother for the kids' class party? How did it go? I'm helping out in kindergarten tomorrow, and I'm in charge of the cookie decorating station. Wish me luck. Oh, and it's not a Halloween party. It's Harvest. Don't get me started.

Trick me with a comment, I might treat you with an autographed copy of IN CARE OF SAM BEAUDRY. I'll draw the names of 2 commenters tonight. Sam's brother Zach's story comes out around December 1.

Somewhere in the years of diapers and Cheerios (before I was writing as a career, I realize...you can see where my creativity was going!) I established a rule for myself when it came to Halloween costumes for my kids. Homemade. You had to start with some pieces of clothing you already owned or could wear again (sweats became a staple). If you “ruined” anything in order to make the costume, it had to be something already too small.

Fireman, ghost cowboy, bat-prey (similar to the spider-prey featured in the last photo, but I made a foot long bat out of fake leather and fur and it appeared to be sucking the neck of Son 2).

I love seeing what other people come up with! My mother-in-law always made costumes for my brother-in-law’s kids (much more sophisticated than mine, a lovely Cleopatra for my niece comes to mind) and my brother’s wife learned to be very creative too. When her son wanted to be the “Flying Carpet from Aladdin” she quickly brainstormed and ended up with an area rug from the local home goods store that she attached to his b[Photo]ody. On his head he wore this little fez-type hat that my mom had brought him from Turkey.

I rued the day when they didn’t want mom to make a costume any longer. Now it’s usually some creepy mask and ragged clothes. No wonder I turn to the bag of Halloween candy before the 31st…I’m out of a job!

Let’s talk cute costumes, or just cute things, or you can confess, like I am right now, that I have to buy another bag of Halloween candy! We’ve already almost gone through the first.

GUEST - Suspense/Thriller author - MARK NYKANEN

(Please help us welcome Mark Nykanen! Mark is a four-time Emmy and Edgar-winning journalist, and acclaimed author of extraordinarily tense literary thrillers that feature protagonists who find themselves pushed to the absolute extremes of behavior and imagination.)

HARDCORE FANS AND HAPPINESS

Most folks who come to my readings have become familiar with my novels only recently. I’m guessing that hardcore fans, if they show up, don’t always let you know of their presence. Why do I say that? Wouldn’t they want to make themselves known? I’m not sure.

Based on reader reviews of my earlier books, some folks who like my work also question my sanity. That’s in addition, of course, to the readers who don’t question it all because they think I’m a psychopath and warn other readers to turn around and run the other way if they ever meet me. I’m not kidding; you can see these kinds of comments on the Amazon pages.

But this doesn’t bother me because I figure that I’m doing my job well if readers simply cannot distinguish between the author and his work.

Then there are the hardcore fans who do seek you out. A young woman came up to me at a reading the other night holding a copy of PRIMITIVE and a dog-eared advance review copy of THE BONE PARADE. At a glance, I knew that the latter had been read many times. If further confirmation were needed, it came when she told me that she adored BP and had, indeed, read it over and over.

Her name was Caitlin, and she said she’d started reading me at fifteen. After BP, she’d gone back to HUSH, read that, and then read SEARCH ANGEL when it came out.

“I’ve been waiting years for you to come back here so I could get you to sign this.” She held out the weathered copy of BP and the unwrinkled trade paperback of PRIMITIVE. I was so pleased to inscribe both books for her, and only gently surprised when her mother took a photograph of her daughter standing next to me. It was a cozy reminder that readers’ passions are very important to us. Now here’s what I truly love: Even as I write these words, with my wife driving down an interstate to Portland, Oregon, my eleven year old daughter is in the seat right behind me saying ”Oh God, Oh God, he’s such an evil bastard.” No, she’s not talking about me, but about a character in the audio book that she’s listening to.

I strongly suspect that my daughter may one day approach the author of a book that sparked her emotions, and say something like “I’ve been waiting years for you to come back here so I can have you sign this book.”

Or perhaps she’ll be an author herself. She’s already started writing
two novels. One of these days she may finish one of them. Or both.
Or maybe those chapters will be like the novel I started writing at age eight. I never finished it but it was definitely a starting point.

Ch-ch-ch-changes ...

A stage in my life came to an end last week. It was a stage I refused for a long, long time to acknowledge would ever come to a close.

My daughter was the first to make me see there was no holding it back. Then my husband dragged me kicking and screaming toward the inevitable when he bought a boat for the third stall in our garage and a car that doesn't tow. But inevitable it was. As my kids have grown, our family has changed and so, necessarily, have our interests. And camping seems to be one of those interests falling by the wayside. We sold our tent trailer last week.

From the time when my husband and I first started dating, we've camped. One box of supplies, tents, mats and sleeping bags, and we were set. A dog and a child made camping in an actual tent much more complicated, so that's when we bought our tent trailer.

The trailer made family camping trips doable. There was a door and real beds, a table and a roof over our heads. We stored all our non-perishable supplies in the trailer, so that all we had to do was pack groceries before taking off. The beds were even more comfortable than my bed at home and we had someplace to hang and play cards if it rained.

We had that trailer for nineteen years and took very good care of it because I knew that when it was gone I'd be done camping. No more sleeping on the ground for this old body.

But it's not really camping that I'm sad to let go. It's the family time, the long hours with my kids fishing, hiking, talking around a campfire. The most poignant memories I have of family time are associated with this tent trailer.

I still remember our first long trip we took right after we bought it. We went to Wisconsin's Door County and my daughter, only two years old at the time, had her first ever pony ride. I remember all three of us, my dh, dd, and me, taking an afternoon nap, dd lying between dh and me. All three screens were open and breeze blew over us almost as if we were outside under the trees. After a long, peaceful rest, my daughter woke, sat quickly up to look around, and asked, "Where go my house?"

When the weekends got busy, we used to set the trailer up in our driveway. The kids would play in it during the day, eat lunch at the little table and have sleepovers with friends. More than once, I had to go out and sleep with them because a noise might've scared them, or they'd told too many scary stories.

My parents loved it when we camped at the park in my hometown. Instead of hanging at their house, they'd hang with us at the park until long after dark. We'd be sitting around the campfire and my dad would get tired and go home. But my mom always slept over with us. I didn't fully understand why until now. It gave her a chance to slip back in time and relive all her sweet memories of taking her own kids camping, sleeping almost under the stars, waking slowly to sound of birds two feet away.

Quite honestly, we should've sold that tent trailer a good two years ago. Some people seem to take life changes in stride. They glide easily through the natural stages of life. Unfortunately, I'm one of those who doesn't.

Is there a trick to it? Is there something - a personality trait, an attitude, or something else - that makes life easier? Have some of your life changes been easier to deal with than others?

Helen
And, yes, a few tears were shed in the writing of this post!

Winner of Midnight Cravings

And the winner is...

MINNA


Minna, please email Michele at toastfaery@gmail.com with your snail mail address.

Congrats!

To Blog or Not To Blog

Today I am going to talk about about all the various blog projects I have going on.  Yes, I am addicted to blogging.  I get an idea for a cool blog, I just...do it.  I know, there is something seriously wrong with me.  You'd think I have enough to write with three books due by March, without having to also write on my various blogs daily.  Call them a reflection of different parts of my personality.

So my own personal author blog is DUSTED.  I decided long ago I would not try and teach anyone how to write, or post updates on the 'business'.  There are a lot of authors out there who do that well.  At DUSTED you get a peak at me, dorky as that person may be.  I post updates on what I'm writing, pics of my latest crush, guest gardens and toes and pets, and just general 'this is my life' stuff.

COLOR ME HAPPY was born of my obsession with coloring.  Yes, you heard that right.  I like to color.  I have so many Dover coloring books I'm not even going to tell you the total because you will roll your eyes.  It started with those fashion coloring books as a means to research.  I could color my heroine's dress the way I wanted it to be in the story.  But it's quickly branched out to mandalas, animals, geometric designs, sealife, etc.  If you're interested in it, there's a Dover coloring book for it.  I like to post my colored pages at the blog and feature my fav coloring books, but haven't done for a while because my scanner isn't working!  Coloring addicts, unite!

RIDING WITH THE TOP DOWN is my way to connect with my fellow writers and I feel like we have a sisterhood of sorts, at this blog (yes, that includes all you Followers).  It's been a great way to learn about my friends and share our lives with all of you.

SHAPESHIFTER ROMANCE is a blog that's...you guessed it, all about shapeshifters.  The authors there have all written shapeshifter romance and, well, if you love that genre, stop by and check us out!

I recently began the VAMPCHIX blog, and it's really taken off (go figure; Vampires, dude!).  It's a blog for those who love vampires.  We interview authors, have authors do guest posts, report the latest vampire news (man, is there a lot lately), talk books, movies, and anything to do with vampires.  This week at the blog we're holding a VampBash, and all week we're giving away books, movies and assorted prizes.  Do you like wine?  Well Vampire.com gave us a coupon code for 10% all purchases at their sight for the week.  (They sell vampire wine and chocolate.  Num!)

The BITE CLUB was born from the VampChix blog.  This is the only blog I've created that I don't actually post at.  (Well, not frequently anyway.)  I drafted the lovely Anna Dougherty (lunaticcafe, who comments here at Riding) to head this blog and she's taken it and run with it.  Bite Club is an online book club.  We only read vampires.  This month marks our first read, and we'll be discussing it starting on Friday.  First rule of Bite Club?  Tell everyone about Bite Club.  Second rule of Bite Club?  Don't bleed on the freakin' carpet.  ;-)

And finally, another offspring from VampChix is the VAMPBOYZ blog.  This one is simple.  I post pics of sexy, bloody vampire men every few days for you to drool over.  Heh.

Oh, you can also find me posting regularly at the NOCTURNE AUTHORS BLOG and occasionally at the PARANORMAL ROMANCE BLOG (both sponsored by Harlequin).

Do you think that's enough blogs?  I'm not sure.  Might need to squeeze another one—  Wait!  Someone stop me before I do it again.  No more blogs for me!

Maybe.

Okay, for sure.

Sigh...

So you're here because you are reading a blog.  Is it a part of your regular daily 'blog crawl'?  Do you have a blog crawl?  Or do you just visit a random blog here and there?  Tell me what appeals most to you about the blog format, and why blogs keep you coming back to read the contents.

I've got a copy of MIDNIGHT CRAVINGS for one commenter today!
Michele

Kathleen's "Old Yeller" Moment

Have you been forwarded the tear-jerking story "Whoever gets my dog"? It's the one about Reggie, the adopted black Lab.

This isn't Reggie. This is my Beauty, the adopted Lab mix. I blogged about my adoption experience a couple of months ago, and I might have called her nearly perfect. Her few minor problems went away quickly. No bad habits left. Beauty is a wonderful dog, and I'm now a huge fan of pet rescue organizations, big proponant of adoption.

But back to Reggie. The e-mail story is pretty long, and normally I would have deleted it, but it came from dear daughter, and it's a dog story. I was a little misty by the end, even though I had a feeling it was fiction. It has to do with an adoption, a letter, a soldier. You can read it at Snopes , which is the real subject of my post. (And I'm a day late posting--sorry guys. I didn't look at the calendar.)

Do you use Snopes? It's good stuff. I saw an interview with the Snopes couple a while back, and I was impress with their operation. They're research geeks. As writers, we can identify. What I particularly like about Snopes's take on the Reggie story is the way they checked out several of the details, found them to be extremely unlikely or impossible to corroborate, but then acknowledged that the story, like all good fiction, tells an overall truth about life in our times. I didn't feel duped. My "Old Yeller Moment" put me in touch with emotions that run deep--all the way back to the little girl crying right along with the boy sooting his rabid pet on the big screen.

Fiction is wonderful, isn't it? And how about that Snopes? Read any good whoppers lately?

Happy Friday, everyone!

If you have a minute, check out the review Michelle Buonfiglio's feature of my Mirabelle series at Heart to Heart. Sure looks purdy having all three covers up like that!

Thanks Michelle!

Helen

Direxia

lois greiman

Some people can eat at Noodles and Company once and find it five years later while concussed and narcoleptic. Not me. I have a little something I like to call direxia. It’s the inability to find a place even though I’ve been there a bazillion times and can probably see it from my porch. I am absolutely unable to ‘envision’ the roads in my mind ahead of time.

That’s why I love Mapquest. Even though it’ll sometimes take me around circles for hours, weaving toward my target like a drunken sailor, I truly appreciate the fact that it’s so exact: ‘Step out your front door. Turn left at the wilting begonia and go .001 miles toward your garage.’ That sort of precision is my friend because my direxia drives me crazy. I think of it as a deadly flaw, my personal Achilles heel. But I’m trying to be easier on myself. After all, everyone has their failings, or so I tell myself as I’m circling Macy’s parking lot for the fifth time while searching for an exit.

My oldest son, for instance, often can’t recognize people. And even if he can, he’s usually unable to come up with a single viable name. (Really, Travis, you think her name is Ralph?) And he’s in medical school so he can’t be too dense.

In fact, when pressed, which I am while circling that damned Macy’s lot, I can usually think of a host of intelligent people who have at least one Swiss cheesy spot in their brains. I know a super genius who is consistently unable to string together two intelligent sentences when in the company of strangers. I have a friend who was valedictorian of her class and couldn’t recite ten capital cities if you put a gun to her head. One of my smartest relatives had no idea you could drive to Alaska. I’m not sure where she thought it was located, but I only love her more for that little weakness. And math skills…well those elude tons of otherwise exceptional people.

So, in self defense, I’ve decided to believe there are many different kinds of intelligence. Some kinds we just haven’t figured out yet. Like mine, for instance. Perhaps my brain is so deep, so out of this world ammmazing, that it doesn’t have time to figure out directions. It’s busy doing other, more important things. Yep, I say as I circle the parking lot one more time, that’s probably it.

Now, how about you? Got any holes in your cerebellum you care to share with the rest of us mortals or are you perfectly secure about your brain’s prowess?

www.loisgreiman.com

Guest Author: Jean Brashear

I first met Jean Brashear through a mutual friend years and years ago at an RWA conference. Might've been New Orleans, but who knows? In any case, she's one of the truest, most helpful, and positive women I know and we both have Superromances out in October! Please join me in welcoming not only a wonderful writer, but one of my all time favorite people in this world. Here's ... Jean!

What I Learned from Scarlett O'Hara and Thelma and Louise

Recently I watched Gone with the Wind on the big screen for the first time since I was a teenager. It was a test, I decided, for me personally. See, the ending always, always drove me crazy. Just like the hissy fit I pitched at the end of Thelma and Louise (for which my daughter continues to rib me.)

But, I mean...the waste. They didn't have to go off that cliff. Really. I just wasn't ready.

So when I became a romance writer, my daughter looked at me knowingly. I knew before everyone, she seemed to be saying. You just can't handle an unhappy ending, can you?

Well, okay, so sue me. Life sucks just fine all on its own, doesn't it? So why do we have to pay to see or read more of the same? But this time, I went to see Rhett and Scarlett, all braced to be mature and blase, to not lose my cool at the unsatisfying nature of the ending.

To my immense surprise, it wasn't that hard--which I must admit worries me a bit about myself. ;-) I spotted places that my younger self hadn't, moments when if either of them had spoken their hearts, they could have had the romance I always wanted for them. But the older, wiser me saw that when each felt vulnerable, he or she retreated into their chosen roles from the first--Scarlett kept being a blind fool over Ashley and Rhett was afraid to risk his heart (not that I blame him.)

But I do stick to my guns on what a waste it was. They could have been amazing together (though Rhett was clearly more amazing...my hopes for Scarlett to ever quit being pig-blind and self-absorbed are dim.) I still wanted to pimp-slap Scarlett, but I was surprisingly okay with it and actually hopeful that Rhett might go on to have a good life without her. And I recognize that had the ending been more satisfactory, maybe it wouldn't still be eating at all of us and thus, remain memorable.

It's reassuring, though, to discover that some things are eternal. When I was walking down the street afterward, I passed a family with a girl who looked to be sixteen or seventeen, all uber-cool and modern...then I heard her cry out, "But there weren't ANY happy endings!"

Hello, Ms. Future Romance Writer. Don't get blase or worry about being cool or mature. Come on over to the dark side. Welcome to the club. ;-)

Jean Brashear
THE MAN SHE ONCE KNEW
Harlequin Superromance October 2009
www.jeanbrashear.com

Three-time RITA Award finalist, Romantic Times BOOKreviews Series Storyteller of the Year and winner of numerous other awards, Jean Brashear finds hearing from readers a special joy. You can reach her at www.jeanbrashear.com

VIVA La Difference! Kindof.

The other day I had a epiphany. Okay, not so much an epiphany as a thought. It barely even hurt. We're built differently, women and men. Probably intentionally. And not just in the plumbing department.

The difference I'm talking about here is the general operating mode. Have you noticed that men are compartmentalizers. They dissect and separate things to be able to concentrate on them. They shut down all extraneous thoughts, subjects, and feelings in order to focus on achieving results and making progress in one area or on one task. They don't like to be distracted or confused by having several topics or additional tasks or unnecessary commentary introduced while they're still trying to get THE FIRST THING finished.

They're linear. And sequential. And compartmentalized. They don't like details from one part of their life slopping over into another and making things. . . complicated. They don't like dragging memories and old conflicts and previous missteps into the middle of current conflict, muddying the waters. They hate arguments that start with a single pair of underwear on the bathroom floor and end up in a review of four, ten, or twenty years of inconsiderate behavior, boorish personal habits, and family resentments. Their general approach to life is: keep it logical, separate, and simple. (In everything but food-- where they're likely to mix all kinds of things together just to up the "gross" factor and freak out the females in their lives.)

One thing at a time, lady. Make up your mind.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? Remind you of anyone you know?

Women are multi-taskers and syncretizers and synthesizers. They love nothing more than connecting and bringing things together. . . whether it's fashion accessories with outfits or lovelorn friends for dates or volunteers for a charitable cause. We like mixing things. . . our thinking is more often circular than linear. . . we keep coming back to the same areas and ideas, expanding and elaborating on them with each reitteration. We like having "input" and talking about solutions and gathering concensus. . . we want to draw our circle wide and include as much as possible. It's not just the end result that's important, it's the pleasure of having accomplished something together with a group.

We can't help bringing emotions to the table and drawing parallels with former incidents and encounters. . . we're keepers of our families' pasts and of our own accumulalted common wisdom. (There is a very good reason Wisdom is portrayed in scriptures as a "she.") We have to be able to listen to and for children while working on a task and simultaneously planning for the dinner or the evening or even the week ahead. To us, a solution that hasn't taken into account peoples' feelings is just not a complete solution! We think in circluar, encompassing, inclusive terms, and we spend our lives combining and connecting and consoling.

Is is any wonder we make men crazy?

But it struck me, as my mind circled and meandered and multi-tasked, that to have a balanced and functional society, we need both. The compartmentalizers and the multitaskers, the linear and the circular, the dissectors and the synergizers. We balance each other and contribute wonderful, necessary differences to the common dialogue and the common flow of events.

It's not a matter of either/or. It's a matter of both/and. Both are vital to our survival as individuals and as a species. So why do we spend so much time bemoaning the differences instead of celebrating them?

I don't know about you, but there are times that I'm tickled pink to hand over a task and stay out of the way until "Mr. Linear" thinks it through and gets it done. Like taxes. And pluming repairs. And computer problems. I go homicidal after 30 minutes on hold with tech support. Fortunately, the Pool Boy has patience out the wazoo for such things. Don't know how he does it. Don't want to know. I'm just grateful beyond belief that he does it!

So what's your favorite difference? What do you appreciate about the males of the species that is unique to them? Aside from the OBVIOUS anatomical stuff, of course. What is the "difference" that makes you say VIVA!

And if you can't think of anything to apprecicate. . . how about your favorite annoyance. Like "Mr. Spontaneous" in the picture above. . .

Debra - Mailing Lists

Remember when we wrote letters?

I always wanted to be a letter writer. You know the type I mean. The person who sends the right note, with the right sentiment, at the right time.

And a pen pal. I thought that would be cool when I was in the 4th grade. Then I realized writing about my life was boring.

Every year, I want to write a screamingly funny Holiday or Solstice note like my good friend Laurie. I'd settle for a comforting round-up of all the news, but I never manage to get past the "Wouldn't it be great?" stage.

I've bought gorgeous stationery over the years. It lasts far too long. Why? Mostly because if I send anything but a condolence note, I grab a postcard and slap something in the mail. "Hey, Georgie! I heard the good news. Congrats." Or "Bobby, a new baby is wonderful except for the poop, the vomit and the screaming. Congrats."

Then we must consider email--the killer of all things ink and paper. I correspond more via email than I ever did/do on paper. Email is a fit for my life. Remember I'm the jot-a-note girl, not the elegant letter writer.

When I receive a lovely note it takes me days to toss it out. Trashing it seems disrespectful. I think 3 days is the internationally agreed upon time frame for displaying lovely notes. Then they can go in the trash with 3 day old fish.

What got me on this nostalgia kick about correspondence? I was just online sorting out the new "join our email list" coding for BelleBooks/Bell Bridge Books. I think I've done it wrong. It's all spread out. But I have a programmer who will shake her head, roll her eyes and fix it before she puts it on the real website. :) Thank goodness. But at least it's functional. I tested that part. You can test it, too.

Sign up for our Email Newsletter

For Email Newsletters you can trust

So, do you keep up with addresses and write letters? Are you email only these days? Am I the only lover of postcards? (I write in funny cartoon dialogue bubbles.) How do you keep up with your addresses? Computer address program? Database? Day Planner? Pretty little address book? Manly address book?

WINNER !! - Soul Catcher

And the winner is.... GUN DIVA.

Congrats. To collect, please email: BelleBooks AT BelleBooks.com

Mental Holiday

Hey!  I'm here, a little late, but here.  Blame it on the weather.  Yes, do, please.  It's 8:30 here and no sun in sight.  I fear it won't return now until freakin' April.  We got snow earlier in the week.  In October.  It's not supposed to arrive until November.  (Though I do recall the earliest snow I've seen is September 19th.)

Anyway, we went straight from our non-existant summer to winter here in good ole Minnesota.  No wonder my ancestors were Vikings.  They obviously didn't stick around to enjoy this lovely weather.  They all built ships and hopped the ocean to look for warmer climes.  Not sure they made it.  But at least they got away from all this...dull.

I believe it's called cabin fever, those doldrums that set in mid-winter after lack of sun and fresh air.  I have it already.  I think I wrote the summer away, didn't so much as glance outside to witness the brief sunshine. And now here I sit, praying for an Indian Summer.  Sigh...

I hear they're having a heatwave in Florida.  So that's why we haven't heard much from Betina lately.  ;-)  Girl's probably backstroking in her pool.  I think I need to visit that chick.  For a month.

So I need some cheering up!  And I thought it would be fun to talk dream vacations today.  I will set aside my desire to live in France (they get snow, don't ya know) and get really adventurous.  I hear in Costa Rica the houses have outdoor showers.  Because the weather is just always so darned nice they don't need to put them inside, like, in case of a chill.  Another sigh...

I just want to go somewhere that has a little hut on a white-sand beach, and the water is so blue and clear you can see the colored fish swimming for a long distance.  Probably there should be one of those butlers that brings your meals to you as you bask on a hammock under a gauzy strip of fabric (one must watch the UVs) and then gives you a foot rub while you eat.  Yeah.  That's where I want to go.  But where is there?

And where is your there?  Where would you escape to if given a free pass for a weekend?

Michele

Winner of Waking Evil

The winner of Kylie's book is....Linda Henderson!

Congrats, Linda! Please contact me at kylie@kyliebrant.com with your snail mail addy.

Waking Evil is Released

I know some of you might have seen this post already. I don't know what the mix up was. I had it ready to post Oct. 6 but we had a scheduling snafu and it disappeared from the blog. Now I see that it posted Oct. 4. This is Halloween spooky because I didn't post it then!

So here it is again, and when I pick the winner I will combine today's commenters and the ones from the 4th...when I really didn't even post it. (cue Twilight Zone music)


Book 2 of The Mindhunters hit the shelf last week. WAKING EVIL features a no-nonsense forensic investigator with a southern charmer of a hero. With a sleepy rural town, an ancient legend, murder and a pinch of the supernatural, I have to admit that this book is my favorite of the three. Maybe that's because it was the easiest to write. It was one of those stories that behaved itself, was full of surprises and characters that intrigued me. There's not much more that an author can ask for!

Here's the back cover blurb:

Buffalo Springs Tennessee is a neighborly kind of place where folks leave their doors unlocked and crime is unheard of. But once every generation, a strange red mist settles over the town, and with it comes omens of death.

When the body of a young woman is found, forensic investigator Ramsey Clark is called in. She knows about the legend of the mist and about the curse that has the entire town afraid of the dark. But Ramsey believes in evidence, not superstition, despite what she's told by by the parapsychologist who's been dogging her every step. Then another murder rocks Buffalo Springs, and Ramsey begins to wonder if a killer is playing on everyone's fears or if a prophecy is indeed being fulfilled--one victim at a time.

In the book, the hero, Devlin Stryker, is a renowned parapsychologist and author, who checks out supposed supernatural events and exposes the hoaxes or writes books on the ones that he can find no natural explanation for. I had a blast researching his background, and learning about the tools of the trade for a 'ghost hunter', as Ramsey so derisively refers to him at their first meeting. Because I happen to believe there are a whole lot of charlatans out there, but there are also things that seem inexplicable.

How about you? Do you believe in legends and superstitions? Ever seen a ghost or visited someplace reputed to be haunted? I'm giving away a signed copy of Waking Evil to one lucky commenter today!

Guest - Deborah Smith

(The other Debra here... I'd like you to help me welcome semi-regular guest Deborah Smith! In about a week, her first urban fantasy under the pen name Leigh Bridger should be shipping. I'm sure she'll answer questions about the book but she's blogging on art ! For those curious about the book--please be curious, I've added a synopsis at the end of the blog. And one lucky blog reader who comments will win an ARC/Bound Galley)

This is what happens when a tame women's fiction author turns to writing urban fantasy: I stood in the art-studio corner of my basement, brush in hand, chortling happily at a bloated, red-eyed, fanged demon.

Compare him to this sample of art from my pre-demon days. Yes, kids, that's a pair of cartoon puddy-tats. For the children's book I'm working on.

Seriously. This is my Jekyll and Hyde confession: By day I write women's fiction and cartoon kitty books; by night I write about cannibalistic demons and heroines who indulge in threesomes with ghosts.

After Deb Dixon, my Bell Bridge Books partner, editor, and trusted art critic, pronounced my first demon painting "smiley and bloated" but not remotely sinister, I tried again. I set "Smiley" aside and painted this one. Check out this demon manhood. Skull Head, as I call him, is a hunka sexy non-human seduction, IMHO.

His, uhmmm, "focal point," which is NOT covered by a green Photoshop graphic on the actual canvas, is so amazing it prompted my startled husband to suggest I "tone down that highlight." Men get so testy when their wives prop a three-by-four-foot painting of demon junk on the living room coffee table.

If nothing else, my amateur art skills helped me create more much more vivid characters on the page. I promise you, the drooling, slurping, fanged, clawed demons in my book are far creepier than Smiley and Skull Head.

SOUL CATCHER, under my new nom-de-fantasy, Leigh Bridger, comes out next week. Now I'm back to work in the gentler world of women's fiction, writing a novella titled THE TOMATO MOONS OF MORNING GLORY and also working on a big trilogy (first book: KITCHEN CHARMS.)

But the lure of the dark side continues to call me, so, hopefully, I'll follow up with SOUL HUNTER next year.

Hmmm, let's see. The demon will have a head like a goat, ears like a bat's, tusks, razor-sharp heel spurs, and a twin set of . . . well, you'll just have to wait for the painting.

SOUL CATCHER: From the gothic eccentricity of Asheville, North Carolina, to the terrifying recesses of the Appalachian wilderness, from modern demonology to ancient Cherokee mythology, Soul Catcher follows the tormented journey of folk artist Livia Belane, who has been stalked through many lives by a sadistic and vengeful demon. Livia and her loved ones, including her frontier-era soulmate and husband, Ian, a Soul Hunter, have never beaten the demon before. Now, in this life, it's found them again.

Winner! NEXT COMES LOVE

Thanks so much, everyone, for stopping by yesterday and commenting. I'm overwhelmed. Not sure I've ever had to pick a winner from so many responses.! So I'm picking two book winners, and they are ...

Linda Henderson and Jane!

As for the bookmarks ...

I Heart Book Gossip, flchen1, EllenToo, CrystalGB, and Lori!

Email me at helenbrenna@comcast.net with your mailing address.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

NEXT COMES LOVE - Release Day!

One cop wants her heart.
The other one wants her dead.

Street-smart city girl Erica Corelli spent the three best days of her childhood on Mirabelle Island. Now her sister has disappeared and Erica’s on the run with her six-year-old nephew. The boy’s father, an abusive Chicago cop, will stop at nothing to get his son back. Erica can only hope this unforgettable island is a safe place to hide.

Garrett Taylor, the island’s chief of police, takes one look at Erica and thinks, trouble. The mysterious, sexy kind that disturbs a man’s peace and instantly complicates the simple life Garrett came to Mirabelle to find. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep his mind—or his hands—off Ms. Couldn’t Be More Wrong for Him.

That's the back cover copy for my new Superromance, Next Comes Love, the 2nd in my Mirabelle Island series. It's a suspense-filled book that's a bit sexier than I normally write. I was all set to blog about the chemistry that developed between Erica and Garrett. It's hot. In fact the scene depicted on the cover was one of those that came about completely unexpectedly, flew off my fingertips as if it had a life of its own and is, I think, one of the hottest scenes I've ever written with fully clothed characters.

But the fact is, hot or not, this story deals with a serious topic. Something fun and flippant doesn't seem appropriate this morning. Next Comes Love is about physical abuse.

Erica fears that her sister has been in an abusive relationship for years and is on the run with her nephew. And Garrett, the tough, strong, cop hero in the story was a victim of abuse as a child. He fears the cycle will repeat itself and moves to Mirabelle to remake himself.

I could get into statistics about how much abuse there is in this world, but we all know it's there. It's tragic, heart-wrenching and sickening on so many levels. And it touches all of us, if one way or another. Many of us know people who've been victims of abuse, and some of us have even been victims ourselves.

I wish I had some answers. I don't. I am, though, proud to have written a story not simply about abuse, but about breaking its vicious cycle. Next Comes Love is, ultimately, about hope.

If you know someone who may be a victim of abuse, please keep him or her in your prayers today. And if the opportunity presents itself -
The national child abuse hotline is 1-800-4-A-CHILD
And the national domestic violence hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE

So on a lighter note, today I'm giving away one copy of Next Comes Love and five of my handy-dandy bookmarks (with pretty tassel and beading). So if you have something you'd like to share, go for it. If you just want to be including in the drawing, that's cool too!

Helen

Just when you think you have it all worked out…

Since I'm finally off deadline for a minute or two, I planned on taking some time writing a titillating post but you guessed it – life interrupted. We were supposed to have the grand kids this weekend but a couple of them came down with the flu. So, disappointment reigned and I trudged back into my office and went to work on the revisions from hell in between searching for an earring that I lost yesterday somewhere between home and the restaurant where my DH took me out to dinner last night to celebrate the NYT showing for Feel The Heat (thanks again for the nice well wishes!!)

Anyhow, no earring, some progress on the revisions, BUT now the DH has the flu. Poor guy.

Back to the earring – Even though I torn the house apart to no avail – I called the restaurant and asked them to maybe, you know, check when they swept. I know. Cockeyed optimist that I am I figured it was worth a shot. I even drove into town (very small town) and checked the parking lot where we parked, walked the sidewalk around the restaurant, etc. Zippo. No luck.

So, it’s back home again to tackle more of the dreaded revisions, check and comment on another blog that I’m posted on and I figure I still have all kinds of time to come up with something brilliant for this post when …. the phone rings. It’s our son. Their babysitter has the flu and since the two little ones aren’t in school yet, they’re in a bind. Absolutely a good news bad news situation: Good news, I get to see the kids!! The bad news, I have to pack a bag, quickly fix some soup for the hubby and write this blog before I head out for an over nighter at the kids.

Okay. I can still do this AND dig out a few more fixes on the revisions, but wait. Another phone call. Would you believe it? It’s the restaurant. They found my earring when they were sweeping. Oh Happy Day!! Stop what I’m doing. Sign a couple of books and head out (stopping at the Atm ‘cause I have no cash and I can’t just thank them for all their efforts with a couple of free books) and go retrieve my lovely lost earring. The post is bent but I figure a jeweler can fix it so I’m a happy girl.

Back home, packing a bag. Cat blesses me with a hairball. What a sweetheart :o(

THAT cleaned up, it’s back to transferring revision work from desk to laptop so I can work on it at the kids, finish packing and … oh yeah, finishing this not so titillating or thought provoking post AND write another post to have ready for another blog for Tuesday because I may not make it back home by then because on my way home from the kids Tuesday, I get to stop at an orthopedic specialist and get injections in both my poor, sore feet. (pray for me!!!).

I could go on and on listing little pitfalls and roadblocks that need to be tended to before I go but I think I've bored you enough. What I want to know is, when was the last time all of your ducks were in a huddle then one of those little suckers strayed out of line and ruined your perfectly laid plans? I’ll try to comment from the kids’s tomorrow but, you know, I WILL be with the grandkids and darn, they are soooo cute …

Here’s to working it all out for all of us.

Steampunk Cakes

You know a genre is resonating when cake decorators get in on the act.

Here's a sample to whet your appetite and if you'd like to see some more, you can check out a cake decorating blog with more examples.

 

Woohoo, Cindy!

Cindy Gerard's October release, FEEL THE HEAT, hit the NYT besteseller list this past week!

Congrats, Cindy! We're all so proud of you!

So Kathleen's like, "That's apostrophe abuse!"

The list we've all been waiting for is finally out. Most annoying expressions. According to a recent survey, the winners (?) are: #5 at the end of the day; #4 anyway; #3 It is what it is; #2 you know; and the #1 totally most annoying phrase is...Whatever. Or What! ev-aarrr. Apparently whatever annoys more Midwesterners than Northeasterners. I know I'm sick of hearing it roll off the tongue of one particular 5-year-old female.

I hesitate to proceed, knowing that whenever I stick my English teacher nose in the air I'm sure to trip over my own feet at least once in the ensuing diatribe. But I got nuthin' else this week. Here goes.
Cliches used in the media. Fun stuff. We all use cliches. Lord knows my head is full of them, and they do ooze out. The above small print puts at the end of the day at the top of the list. The other one that's beginning to get to me is thinking out of the box. (Where else is a square like me supposed to do her thinking?) And That said... Is there another transition out there somewhere? Just for fun what cliche or catch phrase would you strike from the airwaves if you could? How about from the printed page?

Onward. I haven't entered the Face Book world yet, but if and when I do, I'm going to check out the one called "I Live In Reading...Fear Me." A guy (after my own perverse heart) goes around taking pictures of grammatically incorrect signs and posts them on what is becoming a very popular site. I got this one from Google images. The apostrophe is the most tortured punctuation mark alive. (Yes, my children, they're alive!) In my younger, more insufferable days I tried to interest a waitress in removing a misplaced apostrophe from the menu. I actually tried to explain the difference between plural and possessive. My next heroine will be a waitress who has me for a customer. She will serve up a single French fry on a plate.

But seriously, writers and readers, I do think grammar matters. The media is falling down on the job. Why, just this evening I sat up in horror when David Gregory uttered "Take your hand off of me" on The Daily Show. Granted, he was quoting his son, but still... Off of is one of those nails on chalkboard utterances. What's happening to our models?

My daddy was a stickler for proper grammar. I don't believe in keeping kids from expressing themselves, but I do believe in gentle correction. We don't talk baby talk in our house, but we do talk. Complete sentences from birth on. And when I turn on the news, I want...well, news would be nice, but I expect the talking heads to communicate effectively, and that requires a working knowledge of English grammar along with an extensive vocabulary. They should know that a word like unique doesn't need a modifier. You can't be more unique. You try to; you don't try and. What is often times? If something is the same as something, it's the same. Exact same? Exact opposite? Come on. In this age of "speaking in thumbs" we're either firing vowel-less code into cyberspace or we're throwing out five words when one will do. What does "at this point in time" mean? Anything like now? When did utilize become the mark of an educated speaker? Does it sound better than use?

I'm not proposing stilted dialogue. Conversation should be relaxed. In our books, dialogue should be true to character. It should sound like people talking. But writers and reporters, pundits and people in the public eye should know the rules before they break them. We all indulge in lazy speaking and writing sometimes. But what's wrong with raising the bar? Children need models of good grammar. Heck, we all do. Becoming aware of the meaningless phrases, the tired cliches, the tortured construction and misused punctuation is half the battle. And it's a lifelong endeavor. English teachers screw up, too.
But you put that lesson in your toolbox, and you drag it out when you need a Friday blog post.

What are your least favorite commonly used expressions? Your language peeves? Your personal pitfalls (Damn you, lie and lay!) or funny flubs?