friends of fantasies

Mountain Life

2012-01-26T16:26:00.001-06:00

After breakfast one morning, standing on the porch of my sister’s cabin, a large brown rabbit came out from behind the wood pile and hopped right up to the steps. With only an indifferent glance in my direction, he began nibbling at the vegetation there. He couldn’t have been two feet away. Sis later explained that he and his family lived under the cabin, which I suppose could account for his blasé attitude toward humans.

It was this day that Sarah discovered that the dead ferns in her asparagus patch were in dire need of chopping. She’s rather famous for her asparagus in these parts. Fancy seaside restaurants call her for it every day it’s in season. So the task was no small matter. It had to be done.

There was also the problem of a thick, thorny vine trying to take over the rosemary. That stuff was vicious. I had to take a bow saw to it. Ripped holes all over my sweatshirt.

Then came the task of trundling off the refuse. Sarah has a heavy, good-sized wheelbarrow but it was quite a chore getting even that wide balloon tire over the rough terrain. Fortunately it only took two trips to that distant spot (well, okay, probably not more than a quarter mile) deemed safe for burning. My post-surgical sis faded on the second row of asparagus, but by golly I managed to finish it all before lunch...with the help of a Five-Hour Energy Drink before, and a Hydrocodone after.

My sister has been doing heavy work like this for 27 years. No wonder she’s so tough! Her doctors are astonished at her rate of recovery. Three days out of the hospital, she made the ¾ mile round trip, uphill and down, to the mailbox without even breathing hard. Geeez. It would take me 27 years just to work up to it all.

But enough about the work. I won’t even mention what it took to clean the vintner’s big old bunkhouse on up the mountainside. Next time we’ll just take in the sights.

Aside from the travel disasters, it was a really great trip

2012-01-23T13:13:00.000-06:00

Knowing Sis had had such a radical surgery, I was expecting to be met at the Santa Rosa shuttle stop by her neighbor while Sarah waited, pale and weak, in the car.

Wrong.

There she stood, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to great me with a big hug. Admittedly, it was a careful hug, given that long row of staples on her right side. Before heading for the hills, we shopped at Target (to replace essentials on the lam with my luggage) and two grocery stores. Sis shopped right along with us.

It was nearly dark when we started up the long, winding, rugged mountain road. Ellen, the kindly neighbor at the wheel, went barreling along, careening around the switchbacks with no hesitation whatever - even through patches of fog too thick to see the hood of her sure-footed Toyota truck. She makes this drive every week, you see. She owns that road.

The next morning I woke to a thrilling sunrise. Every day of my stay started with this vivid pink in varying patterns. As quietly as I could, I slipped out of the bed and pulled on a sweatshirt against the morning cold. By the time I made coffee and wondered out onto the porch, the day was underway. The panorama spread before me in every direction with surreal clouds of fog defining the ridges of mountains. Sister Sarah has lived here for 27 years now. It’s easy to see how such a place can lay claim to your soul.

Fly if you must, but DON’T CHECK YOUR BAG

2012-01-15T10:33:00.001-06:00

TSA Rife with Thievery

On the way to Petaluma, Jan. 10, 2012, Sis and I stopped at a rustic roadside shopping area at Duncan's Mills. There, in a tiny shop called Studio Nouveau, I saw the earrings I've always wanted: lacy silver 2" ovals fringed with dangles and set with sparkly stones. My sister watched me hold them up to a mirror and enthusiastically pronounced them perfect. Then, even though she is a subsistence mountain woman who could ill afford it, she immediately bought them for me. I put them on right away. The rest of the day she kept glancing over at me, beaming because her little sister looked so great in her gift.

And that’s what disappeared from my suitcase on January 11, 2012, in the San Francisco airport at approximately 6:00 AM.

I'd tucked them carefully into an athletic knee wrap (brought in case a yoga injury acted up) and placed between layers of clothes. For the TSA to have even found it, it must've been exactly the sort of thing they hoped to find.

Understanding the invasive security measures necessary in these terrorist times, I wasn’t that concerned when I found the Notification of Inspection card in my luggage. Then I discovered the heartbreaking loss.

Yes, I’ve made the calls, filled in the forms, made the reports, etc. Now I’m doing the research. It seems TSA theft is rampant nationwide.

In 2009, a half dozen TSA agents at Miami International Airport were caught boosting an iPod, perfume, cameras, a GPS system, a Coach purse, and a Hewlett Packard Mini Notebook from passengers’ luggage. Since then, travelers passing through the airport’s checkpoints have reported as many as 1,500 items stolen, the majority of which were never recovered.

A TSA screener at Newark Liberty International Airport was found running the largest one-man theft ring in the short history of the agency, netting an estimated $400,000 via the resale of stolen high-priced electronics. And he is just one of some 500 TSA officers fired or suspended for stealing from passenger luggage since the agency’s creation in November of 2001.

Christopher Elliott, a consumer advocate (http://www.elliott.org/the-travel-critic/tips-to-ensure-the-tsa-doesnt-swipe-your-stuff/) reports TSA sleight of hand even while inspecting carry-on pieces right in front of you. Just Google “TSA theft.” You’ll be as appalled as I am by the endless list of incidents.

The TSA’s response to these facts? According to Howard Portnoy’s June 20, 2011 blog on http://hotair.com/ the agency considers these stats acceptable. The ratio of crooks to non-crooks, they point out, is less than ½ of 1 percent. Out of more than 110,000 employees, only 200 (a number obviously out of sync with police records) have been accused of stealing. Well, let me tell ya something: that placating statistic doesn't mean a thing when it happens to YOU. In the meantime, you can look forward to invasive pat-downs, irradiation from scanners, and the knowledge that the agency has an iffy record detecting legitimate threats.

“If that doesn’t make you feel all warm and cuddly when you fly,” Portnoy concludes, “nothing will.”

Flying is for the birds

2012-01-13T11:00:00.001-06:00

The Great Southwest Lost Luggage Fiasco

Bleary-eyed from being up since 3:45 AM, we jostled to the edge of the baggage carousel watching the bags go around and around. It was almost hypnotic; the same bags making the circuit over and over. None of them seemed to belong to anybody. At semi-regular intervals another swarm of passengers joined the press. More bags tumbled down the chute to take their turn around the track. Once in a while a piece was pulled off the conveyor, but not often.

Finally a Southwest employee began pulling off the luggage and stacking it against the wall. I don’t know why it took so long for us to accept the obvious, but we finally began shuffling into line in front the baggage office. It was just a short counter with two clerks. The line stretched out the door and along the wall for miles. Somewhere, at some other airport, the owners of all those bags piled around us were doing the same.

Three days later, FedEx reached my sister’s remote mountain cabin with my suitcase. I suppose I should be grateful that only two things were broken and that I no longer had to wear my skinny sister’s skinny neighbor’s husband’s shirts (he was actually a mite too skinny, too) but instead I am thoroughly disgruntled.

You see, when my sister called for help after her surgery, I desperately wanted to make it a road trip. She had someone to take care of her over the weekend. If I’d left Houston early Saturday morning I could’ve made Sarah’s place in CA comfortably by Monday afternoon. Heck. Miranda, my publicist, made it from Houston to LA in 24 hours once. Of course, she’s quite a bit younger…

Why would I want to take on such a long, arduous trip? Because I love road trips! But that wasn’t a factor for my concerned husband, friends, and family. Anyway – one thing and another – I was pressured into doing the sensible thing. Flying. Arriving in 8 hours instead of three days. Sans luggage.

A few blogs back I did an article on intuition. I guess the lesson here is to use it. If you have time (and you want to), drive! See the country. Exercise at rest areas, not running down some endless concourse to your connecting flight.

Most important, you’ll arrive with your luggage.

NOTICE: The Inheritance book has been claimed

2012-01-08T14:40:00.000-06:00

Thanks so much for the response to my book giveaway. Guess it's about time I announced that Chris Paolini's final book of the Inheritance series, offered early in December, has found a home. Forgive me for not notifying you sooner, but to tell the truth I had no idea until now that so many were reading this blog. Wow.

Love to all,
Mary

A Letter from My Sister: Facing Cancer on Her Own Terms

2011-12-31T09:30:00.000-06:00

Alone in her remote cabin, this strong, inspiring mountain woman comes to terms with a dread disease

On top of Sarah's mountain

Christmas Day 2011

To my dearest ones,

After more than 1 ½ years, the time has come for me to connect with you about an aspect of my life that I have been unwilling to share with anyone. It has just entered a defining new phase.

On Dec. 19, I was admitted to Memorial Hospital in Santa Rosa, weak from blood loss from an advanced, externalized breast tumor. I’m afraid my claim of coming down with the flu was completely false.

After a number of blood transfusions I felt normal again. At first it was thought the tumor was inoperable. But the surgeons doggedly pursued a strategy, and on Dec. 23, performed a miraculously successful operation. The surgeons are proud as peacocks and I am thrilled.

The cancer has spread, but an estrogen-blocking pill should at least shrink what cancer is left. The complete success of my surgery hugely simplifies my on-going treatment plan and preserves my on-going independence.

In the haze of forest fires

For your own sakes I hope you can forgive me for not revealing my current condition. It has been such an intimate, personal aspect of my life that I simply and absolutely could not share it with anyone but my angels and ancestors. I could not bear the current draconian cancer treatments or even a medical atmosphere in which such a personal experience would be given over to the impersonal control and judgments of a technological establishment. I wanted to either succeed in healing myself or keep the best quality of life possible until the end.

Finally, I was so weak that I had to make a decision whether to seek medical intervention or simply consider that my time had come. I chose to seek blood transfusions and tumor removal. I called Paula, a friend in Gualala, and broke the news to her of my real illness. Another friend, my neighbor Ellen, got me to the hospital and Paula came later to act as my advocate.

Soon after discovering in early summer 2010 that the growing lump was more than a cyst, I learned to regard this illness as one of life’s wondrous journeys. Except for a few brief moments of terror, I have never experienced the fear and grief that I would have naturally expected. I am awed by this completely unique experience for me. It has taught me that all of life is a series of adventures no matter their nature. Every life adventure is valuable and important.

The cabin in Spring

My experience here in the hospital has been one of unexpectedly profound discovery. Most of the staff has gone out of their way to assure me that I am in control of what happens in my treatment. Some of them have even said it was none of their business why I declined to approach the medical community much earlier. Most disagree with me on some points and a few have been opinionated and judgmental, but at least I have confronted the inevitability of such attitudes and am learning to hold my own.

The most sensitive and compassionate – and those are many – have given me unbelievable blocks of time for earnest, respectful and thoughtful consultations and counseling. The strength of the love behind their work is almost overwhelming. As a result I have learned that rigid resistance and purism based upon principle on one hand, and fear of being over-powered on the other, serves no good purpose. I am now better able to discuss my case with oncologists and staff with a more open mind and willingness to wholly commit to our decisions.

Everyone’s case has a whopping team behind it and when there is harmonious cooperation it is a beautiful thing to behold. And I can say all this while continuing to believe that the actual treatmentis a combination of ritual and the medium through which love does the actual healing.

I am well aware that all hospital experiences are not equal but it has been my great good fortune to have had mine on the oncology unit of this one.

I am finishing this in the hospital, not yet knowing when I will be discharged. I have no idea if you have noticed that I am “missing.” But this is just too big for me to handle in a phone call. Please forgive the snail mail.

My deepest love,

Mom, Sister & Cousin Sarah.

Merry Winter Solstice!

2011-12-24T17:07:00.000-06:00

As far back as humans can remember, earth folks have indulged in mid-winter celebrations. It may have begun with stir-crazy cavemen seeking variety in the long, dreary nights. It attained a more specific schedule from sun-savvy ancients like the Egyptians, Druids, Aztecs, etc. From thence it was celebrated with the knowledge that the worst of winter was officially over. The Romans set aside seven days (Dec. 17-23) for lawlessness and debauchery called the Saturnalia. I suppose we can thank the Winter Doldrums for the fact that this practice persisted into feudal times.

By now most people know that the birth of Christ was not December 25^th. Cuneiform scholars, working from ancient tablets inscribed by the Magi in Babylon at the time of the birth, have identified a date equivalent to September 11, 3 BC. (A much nicer reason to remember Sept. 11…) But there are other authoritative sources that place it anywhere from our current June to the end of harvest.

The point is, it was the raucous Saturnalia that prompted early Christian priests to choose the winter solstice for this solemn holy day. That settled things down nicely. But Christ really is the reason that we celebrate His birth on December 25^th ... no matter when He was actually born!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!

Win a copy of INHERITANCE Book 4 by Christopher Paolini

2011-12-11T17:27:00.000-06:00

Actually I’ll just send it to you. No contest. I have an extra copy on my hands because someone already got it for my daughter. So, as they say in the pet section of the want-ads: “Free to good home.”

It’s still in the box - a brand new deluxe hardcover edition with dust jacket. Just be the first to tell me you want it, give me a shipping address, and it’s on its way. Hurry if you want it by Christmas.

Now, of course, I’m stuck again for a Christmas gift idea for my daughter. Sigh.

Finally! Book 4 of Inheritance is Here!

2011-11-29T14:54:00.000-06:00

Seems like I’ve been waiting for eons! I’ve been trying to reach Christopher Paolini, the wunderkind who penned Eragon at the age of 15, to find out how he was doing on it. I wanted to tell him I’d bake him cookies –any kind he wanted – if he would please get that last book finished.

It was my daughter who got me hooked on the series. She’d asked for Eragon for Christmas one year, and later got the next one, Eldest, on her own. I read them both when I was there for the birth of her third baby. When Brisingr was released, I bought copies for both of us and sent her the movie version of Eragon that Christmas.

Then the long dry spell.

I Googled everything to do with Christopher Paolini and his titles. I tried to find him on Facebook. I haunted Amazon.com for the slightest hint that Book 4 was ready for pre-order. Amazon, BTW, is strangely silent on the subject. A best-selling author like that should rate a fat headline on their opening page. How did I find out? From a brief article in the book section of the Houston Chronicle! Where is this kid’s publicist?? C’mon, people!

Cyber Monday found me hard at the keyboard scoring Inheritance for me and Daughter. And, Chris, wherever you are, the offer of cookies is still open.

Whatever Happened to Women’s Intuition? Dr. Olakunbi Korostensky knows how to get it back

2011-11-16T15:54:00.000-06:00

I just discovered the most extraordinary woman! Dr. Korostensky was a guest today (Wed., 11/16/11) on my friend Jahnavi Foster’s weekly Wellness Radio podcast. Hailed internationally as an “inner flame rekindler,” Kunbi, as her friends know her, is determined to reawaken this valuable gift.

For over 30 years she has dedicated her life to integrating spiritual consciousness into daily activities. A naturopathic doctor and psychologist with a master’s in energy psychology, her real break-through came during a near-death experience. “It wasn’t pretty, what I saw,” she reported. Women have become masculine; seeking validation by tuning out instincts and embracing intellect. Education and the need to succeed, it seems, are barriers between a woman and her natural gifts.

But it doesn’t have to be.

“It is my conviction that women have been endowed with very special gifts and we have not been placed on this earth to simply survive or to suffer,” she states on her website http://www.awakenwomen.org/. “There is no situation so hopeless, no problem so overwhelming, and no challenge so gigantic that you can't overcome it with the right perspective, right mindset and strong connection with your inner guidance.”

Dr. Korotensky participated in the podcast via phone from her home in Switzerland, which is why it came on at noon, EST, rather than the usual 6:00 PM. I dang near threw it off the air trying to call in – I just had to talk to her! Fortunately my publicist, Miranda Spigener, was tuned in. Hearing the program cutting in and out, she quickly texted me to for Pete’s sake turn off my radio.

When things settled down, I related that I had experienced heightened intuition during my pregnancies. Was that typical? I mean, I’m educated, pragmatic, and haven’t a lick of clairvoyance. Yes, she responded. The baby within can and will crash through the barriers. (Hence the cravings for pickles with ice cream?) I had never thought of this before, but the presence of the baby’s intuition goes a long way toward reinforcing the mother’s.

Kunbi’s book, Intuition Involution, Living By Intuition for a Balanced World in 2012 and Beyond is due for release even as I type. I’ll do a full review as soon as I can get my hands on it. Meanwhile, look her up. This is empowering stuff!

Sherlock Holmes: The detective who was forbidden to die

2011-11-09T14:35:00.001-06:00

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

In 1893, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle decided to kill off his most famous creation: detective Sherlock Holmes. Six years of writing these cleverly concocted mysteries, he explained in a letter to his mother, had left him weary of the character. Thus, in The Adventure of the Final Problem, Holmes and his nemesis, Prof. Moriarty, plunge over a Swiss waterfall while locked in combat.

Basil Rathbone as Holmes

Obviously Sir Arthur seriously underestimated Holmes’ popularity. Shocked to the point of wearing black armbands, Doyle’s readership launched a stunning protest. Even Queen Victoria was not amused, personally requesting the author to revive the legendary detective.

Caving to the outcry, Doyle penned The Hound of the Baskervilles in 1901, as a prequel to previously published adventures. But that wasn’t good enough. Clamoring fans wanted Holmes alive.

"We are not amused"

So Doyle dutifully produced The Adventure of the Empty House, wherein Holmes explains he’d flung Moriarty down the falls and then faked his own death to escape the professor’s henchmen. With satisfied fans back on board (and a record sum of money from his publisher) Doyle continued writing Sherlock Holmes adventures, stopping only three years before his own death in 1930.

Sherlock holmes, however, is still going strong.

Let Me Know When You’re in a Better Mood

2011-10-30T17:35:00.001-05:00

“Zombies often rise in theaters and on television when times are tumultuous,” observes Andrew Dansby, the Houston Chronicle’s entertainment writer. His Sunday, 10/30/2011, article points out that anxiety is at the root of allegories in movies. It’s not a cyclical thing. It’s not just for Halloween. The trend was wildly evident way before this. It’s the global angst produced by war, disaster, and economic woe.

The leading edge of this recent spate was Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga and Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Now zombies, vampires, and assorted other horrors are popping out of the ground everywhere. It’s a sure-fire indication that economic recovery is equally mythical.

Well, I for one will never give in to dystopian scenarios. Flowers grow even on the bloodiest of battlefields. Most people don’t go cannibalistic because of market downturns. And there’s as much drama under the sun as there is under a full moon. C’mon, People! You don’t need Hollywood ripping flesh from bone to get through this!

Granted, we are in dire need of escapism. But why turn to something even more hellish than our actual situation? Get out of this funk. Come to Ammanon!

Requiem for a Worthy Woman

2011-10-25T20:07:00.000-05:00

Aunt Vivian at her 100th birthday party

High-spirited socialite, community activist, inveterate gardener; she stood ram-rod straight, walked at least 80 mph, and had a smile for everybody. She didn’t give up mowing her lawn until she was in her hundreds, and even then still worked at her flower beds.

Aunt Vivian, elder sister of my husband’s mother, died Monday morning, October 24, at the age of 103.

She was raised in Galveston, Texas, during the glory days; the days of live bands on the beach, lavish parties in wealthy homes, and a social circuit that rivaled anything on the East Coast. Even though Aunt Vivian lived in modest circumstances with her little sister and single mom – working hard to support both - she kept in the thick of things. Her gregarious nature relished the social whirl.

During WWII she met and married a Navy man, John Smith, a quiet mechanic/gunsmith. After the war, they settled in Mathis, a depressed resort community 50 miles from Corpus Christi. Even after her teenaged son, her only child, was killed in a car crash, Aunt Vivian remained involved in youth work, her church, and the community. Her tireless efforts and dogged determination to inject pride into shabby little Mathis, TX, led to an oleander-lined highway known as the Vivian Smith Parkway.

Two years ago she returned Galveston where she could go into care near kinfolk. To the end, she was a cheerful and gracious woman, aware of her dementia but pushing ahead anyway. I last saw her on Thursday, our day to go out and eat shrimp. There was no sign that she was nearing the end. She was alert, chatty, and eating well. She simply went to sleep Sunday night, and failed to wake Monday morning.

Way to go, Aunt Vivian. Seriously.

Farewell to Arms, Hello Obscenity!

2011-10-16T12:15:00.001-05:00

When Scribners published Ernest Hemingway’s Farewell to Arms in 1929, the publishing house replaced all potentially offensive words with a series of dashes. This intriguing fact is part of an article, “Up In Arms,” by Ethan Trex in the hilarious magazine Mental_Floss (where knowledge junkies get their fix), the 2011 Golden Lobe Awards issue. No, my IQ is nowhere near Mensa levels, but I still get a huge kick from cleverly written stories about mind-boggling facts.

Back to Hemmingway. Although the author was understandably miffed that even such mild obscenities as “balls” weren’t permitted in a novel about war and sex, he caved in order to get the work published.

And then (get this) he grabbed up a few copies and reinserted the vulgarities by hand. Mr. Trex knows of at least two corrected texts that survive today. One copy went to French literary translator Maurice Coindreau; the other to Irish novelist and poet James Joyce. Joyce’s copy now resides at SUNY-Buffalo’s library in upstate New York.

Wouldn’t Hemingway love writing in this modern atmosphere of obligatory and gratuitous obscenity? Well, maybe not. Where’s the shock value?

Got 3 minutes to kill? Have a look at these movies from Mars

2011-10-11T20:27:00.002-05:00

http://cosmiclog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/10/11/8274228-three-years-on-mars-in-3-minutes

On the news last night Brian Williams showed some clips of a landscape he compared to the Jersey shore. It was all pretty boring until he announced that it was, in fact, Mars.

The probes, Spirit and Opportunity, were launched June and July 2003 and landed January 2004 in widely separated equatorial places on Mars. This video was shot by Opportunity. Conspicuously absent is the Travelocity Gnome.

Sadly, the logistics of success dictate a landing in the safest location; i.e. flat and boring. These explorer vehicles cost $850 million, after all. Let’s not jeopardize the mission with unnecessary risks. Of course they can be designed to negotiate steep inclines and torturous terrain. But if I remember correctly, there’s something like a 45-minute delay between the sending and receiving a command.

So say you see the rover approaching the edge of a crater. By the time this data reaches you it's 45 minutes old. By the time your frantic “STOP!” command arrives 45 minutes hence, Opportunity has been a mangled splatter of nuts and bolts for 90 minutes. Now you know why this particular area of Mars looks like the Jersey shore.

Click and see:

http://cosmiclog.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2011/10/11/8274228-three-years-on-mars-in-3-minutes

I Take a Grandson to the

2011-10-05T16:16:00.001-05:00

This is the one on the Kemah Boardwalk. The downtown Houston location is much more spectacular but Grandma doesn’t take on the high-speed maze of crisscrossing Interstates unless absolutely necessary. I owed him. Before his big brother Mikey started Big School (kindergarten) I was always snatching him up and heading for the Rainforest Café in Galveston. Such a cool place. Now it’s Gabriel’s turn.

But the Rainforest is filled with trumpeting elephants, roaring apes, and indoor thunderstorms. Since I wanted to at least try to get in a chat with my daughter-in-law, I elected to check out the Aquarium.
Bear in mind that even in the dullest of settings, kids never eat at restaurants. They’re too busy looking around and demanding trips to the bathroom. Given the overstimulation of wall-to-wall live, swimming fish, you can totally save your money. Oh, they might grab a fry or something off your plate in between the piranha tank and the one with Nemo and Dory, but they certainly won’t do any serious eating.
We adults were most mesmerized by the main tank. Interspersed with three sharks, a tiger and two smaller reef sharks, were several enormous groupers. The waiter said they could get up to 800 lbs. Most surprising to me were the two long, green moray eels. I had no idea they were so big.
The food was top quality and elegantly presented, but way overpriced. Here the usual dinner salad was extra. Like, $5.99 extra. So not an everyday lunch spot.

After the meal we went down to the stingray pool. Yes, we petted the stingrays. Very smooth, rubbery and slippery. They’re friendly to humans but not so much with each other. One slapping set-to sent me scrambling aside to wipe off my camera and eyeglasses.

We capped off our adventure with a train ride around all the Boardwalk attractions. It was a good time. But now I feel I owe Mikey again…

Why can’t SOMEONE offer chronological listings?

2011-09-27T10:39:00.001-05:00

I mean, nothing like buying two books in a series, using publication dates as a guide, only to find those two books worlds and years apart. The reason? There were several books in between, but they weren’t shown on the same screen. Even author sites and fan sites do this.

Take Lilian Jackson Braun’s quirky and delightful The Cat Who… mysteries. If you go by the order of Amazon’s listings, methodical journalist Jim Qwilleran and his two crime-solving cats may suddenly jump from a big city newspaper to “400 miles north of everywhere” with no clues whatever. And there are dozens of The Cat Who… books.

Although Tony Hillerman isn’t quite so prolific, attempting to arrange his absorbing adventures of modern Navajo cops by release date is still a tall order. Futile, too. Each book isn’t always listed. Some may pop up on one click that didn’t show on a previous visit. Why the heck is that? When I first started following Officer Jim Chee, (the first books in Hillerman’s listing) his superior, Lt. Joe Leaphorn, was a grizzled, gray-haired veteran. In the next book I found featuring that venerable soul, he was a rookie patrolman. And I still haven’t found the original Jim Chee title that got me intrigued in the first place. It was a Reader’s Digest Condensed selection. And we donated our entire collection of those volumes to a library sale. So I may never know.

You will not have that problem with me, folks! If you’ll notice the left column, I have clearly placed “Book One,” “Book Two,” etc. in each book’s title. This will get very important when the first three are re-released by my new publisher, VerveStar, with differing covers. There are 5 books in all.

Seriously, if anyone out there knows where to find chronological listings of authors’ works, please let me know! I prefer reading things in proper order!

Say WHAT? (Pretty far out…but do-able)

2011-09-17T13:00:00.000-05:00

Since I’m in Future Mode at the moment, I think I’ll share some of the other stuff I pulled up while researching the last couple of posts. These mind-boggling concepts are so far out, so beyond sci-fi, it makes me think of Carmen. Carmen was the beleaguered secretary that held the IT Dept. of United Space Alliance together through Y2K, John Glenn’s second up, and Newt Gingrich. I’d storm up to her desk waving the latest directorial memo demanding, “Whoa! Just how are we supposed to do THIS?”

And Carmen, bless her heart, would resignedly set down her coffee, grit her teeth, and utter her perfected mantra: “I know it’s ridiculous. I know it’s gratuitously complicated. But it’s do-able. So, like, DO it!” And I would, of course. Sometimes without overtime.

Now you’re going to see what I mean. Folks, I give you The Space Elevator. As NASA gets out of the manned spaceflight business, new and cheaper ways of getting into space – without rockets – have been developed by private companies. Running on a strand of woven fiber carbon nanotubes, a space “elevator” will whisk you 22,000 miles above earth to an inflated kevlar-and-fiberglas space station. According to www.absolutely-unbelievable.com, the iSpace Corporation is holding a drawing to win a two-week vacation on the moon. iSpace is already negotiating for land to build this thing. Enter today!

Are you ready for the ultimate cruise? I actually saw this on Discovery, or The History Channel or PBS or somewhere. Freedom Ship, a floating city of thousands, is an idea that has been tossed around for a while. Now the Freedom Ship Company has a new set of designs for the floating urban space, which looks sort of like a giant mall parking lot, and sort of like a really giant Love Boat. According to the company’s site, http://www.freedomship.com/, it’s not a cruise ship per se. It’s a place to live, work, and retire. A place that just happens to be continuously traveling around the world.

While casting about online for images, I found this on www.scans_daily.com, a sort of comic book site. The caption reads: “This is the Libertania. It's a huge ship designed as a floating nation. The president of the US is visiting, and tension is brewing between the upper & lower decks. Now watch everything go to Hell.”

So…I suppose it’s not so much a question of is it do-able, but what will happen if we do?

Back to the future – The Future of Flight, that is

2011-09-14T16:33:00.002-05:00

And I promise you this will be my last article on my Boeing plant tour! The museum at the visitor’s center is actually called The Future of Flight. Hence, my title. Some of these flights of fancy are seriously on the drawing board. Some of the next generation space shuttles actually went to prototype years ago and now will probably never come into use - unless some corporation or multi-gazillionaire buys them for space tourism.

This powerful little twin engine jet is a NASA project called Small Aircraft Transportation System (SATS). The object is to provide high-speed transport between local community airports at current airline prices, sans the delays and extended travel times incurred by hub-to-hub routes. Wouldn’t you love to see this get off the ground?

Have you ever noticed the way birds adjust their wings in flight to perform various maneuvers? This NASA design is The Morphing Project which allows planes to change shape in flight. Flexible materials will bend and twist, adapting safely and efficiently to changing flying conditions like the wings of a bird. This morphing technology promises a wide variety of futuristic applications.

This high-flying, solar powered Helios prototype was developed by NASA primarily to aid coffee growers. Flying at altitudes over 50,000 feet for up to four days, it can determine the optimal harvest time on remote, mountainside fields. It can also act as a relay platform for telecommunications systems, enhance weather observation, and provide a disaster-monitoring.

The blended wing body is a research project of both Boeing and NASA. This design could carry 450 to 800 passengers for up to 7,000 miles at a maximum speed of 560 mph while consuming 20% less fuel than today's jetliners. The wingspan would be just slightly wider than a conventional Boeing 747 and could operate from existing airports.

While the benefits of these projects are huge and obvious, I fear the development costs – in the current economy - will strand our access to them indefinitely.

Where were you on the morning of September 11, 2001?

2011-09-09T16:03:00.000-05:00

You will never forget what you were doing November 22, 1963 when President Kennedy was shot. You know exactly where you were January 28, 1986 when the Challenger exploded. You’ll never forget who called you February 1, 2003 to tell you the Columbia was disintegrating over Texas. How much more vividly do you recall the moment you began to grasp the magnitude of the terrorist attack in New York City?

I thought it was just a persistent promo for a new disaster flick.

The image of two furiously burning towers stayed prominently on the AOL home page while I checked and briefly answered my email before heading to work. It was in West Lafayette, Indiana, where I was taking care of my folks in their beautiful rural home. It didn’t sink in until I saw the same thing on the TV as I headed out the door. By the time I arrived at the office in Purdue’s Research Park, the whole world was in a state of shock. Voices were hushed. Every TV and computer screen showed variations of the same thing. I remember that after an hour or so of numbly staring at each other, we closed up and went home.

Most of all I remember how Dad, still partially paralyzed from his recent stroke, painfully limped out to the pole by the giant sycamore tree, and raised the American flag.

Hey! It’s raining in here! (Other neat stuff about the Boeing plant)

2011-09-06T15:30:00.000-05:00

The Boeing factory in Everett, WA is so massive; it once began generating its own weather systems. Rain clouds, the result of warm air and moisture accumulating, were actually forming inside. About 25,000 workers added to the heat and humidity.

Covering almost 100-acres, the world's biggest building by volume houses Boeing's 747, 767, 777, and 787 aircraft production lines. Roughly 2142 average-sized homes could fit inside this factory. The hangar doors alone are each roughly the size of an American football field. Among other things, it boasts its own security force and fire department, a fully equipped medical clinic, a childcare center, a water treatment plant, its own electrical sub-stations, and 19 cafeterias.

But what to do about the rain? Actually, a state-of-the-art air circulation system was installed inside the monolithic manufacturing plant early on. I wasn’t able to find exact dates, but obviously you can’t work with complex electrical systems under such shocking conditions.

Nevertheless, it’s true that there’s no A/C on the production floor. First of all, the weather in the Seattle area rarely peaks over 90. If the factory gets too warm, they open the huge doors and turn on the fans. Too Cold? As if. There are over one million light bulbs illuminating the work areas. Remember how your kid could actually bake a cake with a 100-watt bulb in her Hasbro Easy Bake oven?

I know, I know. Am I ever going to get over that tour of Boeing? Well, maybe after one more post. I’m an airplane freak who’s worked at both United Space Alliance and Boeing Aerospace. Before the kids came along I flew small craft: Cessna 150s and 172s. So cut me some slack…

Travels with Giselle, or How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love the GPS

2011-09-03T12:39:00.000-05:00

“Honey, I-5 is right over there! See?”
“I paid for this thing and I’m going to use it!”
I clench my fists in frustration. I have the map right in front of me. I know exactly how to get there. But here we sit in the motel parking lot while he fusses and cusses at that obstreperous gadget he’s named Giselle.

Granted, a manual from the car rental agent would’ve been nice. And, granted, a GPS app on Miranda’s cell totally saved us in New Jersey last May. But right now I’m ready to chuck it full force into the street to which it’s pointing. As if that street was anywhere near us. Husband notices.

“Look, I brought you all the way up here for your birthday, spent all this money, and all you do is complain!”

Realizing he’s building up for a ten-minute tirade, I quickly backtrack, reassure him of my undying gratitude, and pull a paperback copy of Where Eagles Dare from my bag. Five minutes later I hear Giselle’s dulcet tones: “Please fasten seat belts.” We did that ages ago. “Drive to highlighted route.”

I glance over but see nothing but a fat green arrow on an otherwise blank screen. Not wishing to escalate either his ire or mine, I calmly return to my book. Too late.

“What highlighted route?” Husband thunders.

“Dear, just turn left onto Pine, right onto Hewitt, and the I-5 ramp is less than a block away.”

Big mistake. The explosion that just caught Alistair MacLean’s heroes pales beside Husband’s. Giselle was supposed to say that! Why can’t I leave him alone? Why am I always so negative?

Finally I understand. Giselle is a man-toy. And men are Über-serious about high-tech toys. Any hint of disparagement from a female can fling a normally equitable man into a towering rage.

Unfortunately, Giselle also aggravates the male ego. The problem, of course, is that the voice is female. No man wants a woman telling him where to go. For example, when we returned from our outing she clearly and correctly told him to exit on Pacific Avenue. He decided not to.
“Recalculating.”

He ignored her again. He would do it his way – here in a neck of the woods where we’ve never been before.

“Recalculating”
I had the map in my lap, but by now I knew to keep my mouth shut.

“Recalculating.”

Eventually, after an extensive tour of Everett, WA, we did end up on Pacific Ave.
“In .2 miles, turn left at motel.”
Which would’ve taken us to the Holiday Inn. Happily, Husband turned right into the Best Western where we were staying. Even after we more or less learned how to use her, Giselle did her level best to take us to the Holiday Inn.

So…would I ever want a GPS of our own?
Recalculating.

Travel Diary – Day Eight

2011-08-31T12:41:00.000-05:00

Aug. 30, 7:45 AM – Another foggy morning. Can’t see Mt. Ranier. This is the La Quinta in Seattle again, so we’ll be going to the Denny’s next door for breakfast. The difference in motels is almost amusing. This lobby is palatial by comparison to the Best Western in Everett, and the beds are the best ever. But the towels are thin and rough, there’s only a cold continental breakfast, and no in-room fridge or microwave. The BW had it all, including soft, thick towels and a sumptuous breakfast buffet. But both have what we came for: Cool Temps!

Aug. 30, 8:30 AM – Rain! Well, okay. Drizzle. Not enough to bottle and take home. Here we are ready to leave for the airport and NOW Seattle starts acting like Seattle! No matter. It’s about 57 degrees, and the air is filled with the bracing scent of evergreens and spicy cedar. I don’t wanna leave!

Aug. 30,10:30 AM – At SeaTac airport. Slowed up the security process by neglecting to remove my laptop from its case. Coulda swore I read somewhere that it wasn’t necessary anymore. Husband thoroughly ticked.

Approaching Houston, the pilot comes on the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, the weather at our destination is partly cloudy with a temperature of 100 degrees.” Groans filled the cabin and not a few of us called out, “Turn around!”

Aug. 30, 8:00 PM – and home. We were immediately flattened by the oppressive heat coming out on the jet way. Two good things: Everything in my suitcase smells like evergreens and the gourmet coffees I picked up in Everett; and the rain gauge showed 2 ¼ inches. Can you believe that? Guess it took us leaving this super heated, drought-ridden area to make it rain!

Also, the publicists at VerveStar report progress on my new Ammanon.com page. Now I’m getting excited again about the impending fall re-release of Book One. Ready to get back to work!

Travel Diary – Day Seven

2011-08-29T22:02:00.002-05:00

Aug. 29, 7:30 AM – Now this is the kind of day we were expecting up here: heavily overcast. That’s what you always hear about Seattle, right? Gray and rainy. I promised the home folks I’d return with bottles of rain, proof that the stuff still exists somewhere on the planet. But until this morning it’s been bright and sunny. Nary a drop of rain in sight. And there still isn’t. Nevertheless, we got what we really came for: blissfully cool, blessedly sane, weather!

Aug. 29, noon – Toured the Boeing plant today! The factory here in Everett is the largest building by volume in the United States. I can’t remember the exact figure, but the square footage runs into the millions. The place is gratifyingly busy with over 3000 employees working 24/7. If you were to order a 787-8 right now, you wouldn’t get it until 2020. So it seems Boeing ain’t hurtin’ as much as the rest of the economy.

No cameras, purses, fanny packs, cell phones, or electronics of any kind are allowed on the tour. (You have to rent a locker to stash your stuff.) So I can’t show you the monstrous 747s being assembled on the cavernous factory floor. Or the luxurious interior of the 787 Dreamliner commissioned by Korean Air.

Positioning pics in this blog is terribly tricky. That’s why I resorted to PowerPoint to position them en masse. But that’s not great, either. Bear with me, folks. I’ll figure it out sooner or later.

Aug. 29, 4:00 PM – We moved from Everett back to Seattle before our flight tomorrow. As I’ve mentioned, traffic around here is even worse than Houston’s. This motel is just a few miles from the airport.

Husband is eager to get home. He’s got fall tomatoes planted. Me, I can’t imagine returning to the fiery, unrelenting heat of Texas after this brisk, exhilarating evergreen air. But we can’t have it all, can we?

Travel Diary – Day Six

2011-08-28T22:31:00.001-05:00

Aug. 28, 9:22 AM - No scenery today! We’re socked in with fog. Nevertheless we’re thoroughly enjoying the glorious cool. Husband has the windows open to the 55-degree euphoria. I was up around 7 AM when it was even cooler, walking laps around the motel before coffee. Speaking of which, we’re about to head to the supermarket up the street. Last time we were there Husband noted they had a coffee collection I may wish to explore. Would I ever! Then maybe some more shots of local color.

Aug. 28, 6:45 PM – More local color, more mountain driving! Let me put together another PowerPoint photo essay here.

Travel Diary – Day Five

2011-08-28T00:02:00.004-05:00

Aug. 27, 10:00 PM - Today I’d planned to post a gallery of local color. Between struggling with maps and GPS gadgets, however, I didn’t get nearly the shots I wanted. Well, maybe tomorrow.

I’m really blown away by the floral sense of this area. Even the more modest homes have showplace yards: sculpted greenery and brilliant colors. They have flowers here I’ve never seen before.

Seattle, Everett, and all the towns we’ve wandered through maintain bowers of flowers along roadways, colorful hanging baskets from light poles, and planter urns on every corner.

Sightseeing was the main thing today, but we also spent an unreal amount of time trying to find a steak house. I mean, we’re from the Gulf Coast, okay? Seafood – even that unique to the area – gets old after a bit. We found three steak places. One didn’t open until evening. The second wasn’t even there. The last was run like Burger King: place your order at the counter and find a seat. Not exactly what we had in mind.

So where did we end up? A Mexican restaurant. Yes. We Texans come within a stone’s throw of Canada and go to a Mexican restaurant. They’re everywhere up here. More than in Houston.

It was excellent, by the way.

Travel Diary – Day Four

2011-08-26T21:16:00.002-05:00

Okay, I’ve got it now. The internet crashes every evening between 6:30 and 7 PM. I confirmed it at the front desk. So I’d better get busy here!

Aug. 26, 6:15 PM – Today we headed east out of Everett on US 2, the lower loop through the Cascade Range. Again the drive offered spectacular views, but this time we pulled off at Deception Falls to marvel at the rushing water and take a woodland hike.

One of the towns we cruised through was the Bavarian berg of Leavenworth, WA. Why that name for a totally Alpine-themed village is beyond me, but it was quite charming.

One thing we’ve noticed about this region is the abundance of flowers. They’re very serious about plant life around here. Since we’re old and rather exhausted from the day’s exertions, that may be all I do tomorrow: take pics of all the riotous vegetation.

Now let’s see if I can get this published before Comcast pulls the plug for the night.

Travel Diary – Day Three

2011-08-26T10:29:00.001-05:00

Aug. 25, 8:35 AM – Not good: You know how I’ve been whining about jet lag. Well, Husband and I fell into bed 8:30-9:00 PM last night. And our room in Everett overlooked the pool. And people tend to shriek and holler when they’re having a good time in the water. Plus the AC would explode to life about every 10 minutes, and then quit seconds later. Not that we needed cooling. We needed masking noise for the pool party and a city that makes more noise than SeaTac Airport on a Friday afternoon. We ended up changing rooms first thing this morning.

Good: Breakfast. No need to hike to Denny’s this time. The Best Western Cascadia lays out a serious feast.

Aug. 25, 2:20 PM – Finally recovered from jet lag, moving to another room, and too much breakfast. We’re heading for attractions at points north. Husband spotted a lavish casino on the Tulalip reservation which offered a great photo op.

From there we turned off I-5 to trek east into the Cascade Mountains. Breathtaking!

Breakfast finally wore off by the time we reached the tiny town of Darrington. We were a bit wary of the only eatery for miles around - this rustic, 3-table Burger Barn. But let me tell you, friends, this place is a real find. We started with a basket of homey-tasting fries. Husband reported his “Famous Burger” was terrific even though served with tarter sauce. My salmon burger came with jalapeňos – an unexpected taste treat.

Aug. 25, 6:35 PM – Watching Hurricane Irene in disbelief. New York City? You gotta be kidding! Also – Comcast has collapsed again. Not much disbelief there…

Travel Diary – Day Two

2011-08-25T12:06:00.001-05:00

Aug. 24, 10:10 AM Seattle, 8:10 AM Houston. Seriously jet-lagged. We’d chosen La Quinta for their fabulous complimentary breakfasts. This one, unfortunately, had only muffins and juice. Not to worry. Denny’s is just across the parking lot. Oh, the crisp, pine-scented air of Seattle! After we ate, I enjoyed a brisk walk around the grounds – something that would kill me back in the Texas heat…

Aug. 24, 1:00 PM. Staring up at the Space Needle in awe and a modicum of terror. An outside glass elevator? You gotta be kidding! But the queasiness from the ride up dissipated with the thrilling view. So much to see! Lots of water, to begin with: Puget Sound, Lake Washington, Lake Union, Green Lake – all bustling with sail boats, ferry boats, parasails, float planes, and way more. Great, snow-capped mountains all around.

Despite the touristy attire of the diners, this is unmistakably fine dining. The wait staff, personable and world class professional, wore suits and ties. I had the salmon (seemed apropos) served with wilted pea vines and blueberry chutney. Weird but excellent.

Aug. 24, 7:00 PM. The jet-lag and wine at high altitude (had a choice cabernet sauvignon with the meal) has really flattened me. After inching our way north from Seattle in very Houston-like traffic, we’re holed up in Everett, which will be our base for the rest of our vacation. There’s gobs of great stuff to report, but all I want to do now is post my blog and die. Unfortunately, the Best Western Cascadia has Comcast just like we do back home. And, yes, it’s down. The front desk will call if the reboot is successful…

Travel Diary - Day One

2011-08-24T01:24:00.002-05:00

Aug. 23, 5:15 PM - Just got to Bush Intercontinental with gobs of time to spare. Got through security easily. Husband was in another line and got the full treatment. Had time to get me a cinnamon dolce latte at an adjoining Starbucks while he was getting dressed. Air Alaska doesn’t have much of a presence here. It shares a counter with Horizon, Air France, and KLM. Sad.

Aug. 23, 10:58 PM – That’s Seattle time. My watch says 1:00 AM. It was a lo-o-o-ong non-stop flight. But since we were in the air in excess of 3.5 hours, the airline was obliged to serve us something besides tiny bags containing pretzels, cheddar corn and roasted red pepper strips. For $6 I got a hamburger and a decaf coffee. The meat tasted like it’d been boiled. But we came through much better than I expected.

The SeaTac airport was an abrupt change of décor from Houston Intercontinental. There are abstract totems on some of the pillars, the café fronts were stonework and logs, and the shops had rows of plaster (or maybe taxidermied) fish on the walls. But the best part was emerging into the cool air of the Pacific Northwest. This is the perfect place: forests, mountains, and picturesque lakes and rivers everywhere you look.

Tomorrow: Space Needle!

The Scent of Fantasy

2011-08-20T15:20:00.001-05:00

Back in December I did a 3-part blog on the music I play while writing. Last night I entered a new dimension: Fragrance.

Scent is a powerful thing. It instantly commands our thoughts, moods, and memories. Aroma inspires, enlivens and transports us as nothing else. And since I’ve always been sensitive to scents, I can’t imagine why I’ve never addressed it before.

It came to a head most unexpectedly. A Facebook friend announced she was having a Scentsy party. A what? As it happened, the scent event was only about 10 minutes away. I went. And I learned a heck of a lot. Let’s start with fragrance oils: (Quoting from the brochure)

·        Essential oils, which are natural oils extracted from plants and flowers.
·        Absolute oils, which are highly aromatic, concentrated, oily mixtures extracted from plants.
·        Synthetic oils, which are man-made scents that duplicate a particular fragrance.

Then there’s fragrance structure:
·        TOP NOTES are the first thing you smell - fresher and lighter than mid or base notes.
·        MID NOTES are the heart - they define the character, or body, of a fragrance.
·        BASE NOTES create longevity. They are heavier, sweeter, and more long-lasting.

First I painstakingly chose the right warmers: A full sized one for my computer room, and a pretty little plug-in for the upstairs bathroom. Then I explored the nose-boggling array of aromas. Wow. There must’ve been over a hundred.

Most were well-calculated naturals – botanicals, subtle florals, and herbals - that were wonderfully evocative. Some, like Satin Sheets, Snow Berry, and Sunkissed Citrus, were lively and stimulating. Or you can mellow out with the likes of Baked Apple Pie, Sugar Cookie, or Mochadoodle. Some were quite masculine, like My Dear Watson, Embers, and Route 66. And there must’ve been a dozen appetizing takes on vanilla.

Me? I ordered, among other things, Honey Pear Cider, Mums & Marigolds, and Cranberry Mango. I even got scent hangers for the car.

Look ‘em up: https://abbeynewton.scentsy.us/Buy. It’ll blow your nose.

Do I Detect a Trend?

2011-08-13T09:27:00.003-05:00

Do I perhaps detect a craving for sanity and simplification? Duh. Look at us. Economic crises. Dysfunctional homes, joblessness and desperation as far as the eye can see.

That may account for a trend I’ve been noticing both in the news and as I peruse the Top 100 Entertainment/Book blog list. This morning alone I’ve encountered three posts reviewing books on Amish and Mennonite values. In the last month I’ve seen TV specials on these simpler and more successful lifestyles, plus a number of online articles extolling the merits of reducing your living space to 380 sq.ft. Hmmm…the modern-day hippie equivalent of dropping out?

No, we are grownups looking for a reasonable way to survive. And no government program or feeling of entitlement is going to hand it to us.
So…we’re looking to a subculture with a workable system. We’re tired of being owned by material things. We can no longer afford the liabilities imposed by former prosperity. In short, we want to get real. Judging from the popularity of these homely and minimalist concepts, we may actually be onto something.

Want to see what I mean? Here’s what’s called a Lego style apartment http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=juWaO5TJS00&feature=related Something like 86 sq.ft. and incredibly clever. Then we have:

You gotta be kiddin’! (When Houston freeways trump fantasy)

2011-08-09T19:39:00.000-05:00

SFX overload everywhere these days. Spectacular scenes of unmitigated destruction and carnage all over TV and the big screens.

Time for a reality check.

So check out I-45 just north of Airline Drive in Houston. At this writing, they still don’t know how the heck this happened. About all I can do is send you a link to the news story.

ww.click2houston.com/video/28817072/index.html

So click quick and you too can say: “I saw this before it was an item on YouTube!”

Yay! Finally Saw the Final Harry Potter

2011-08-06T15:55:00.000-05:00

You see, when a major movie comes out, we wait and wait until all the crying kids, twitchy teens, and the rest of the crowds have all seen it. Then we venture out on a weekday for the earliest showing. Of course, we love the kid stuff, too, so if there’s a daycare van unloading in front of the ticket window, it’s an automatic postponement.

But this time it was perfect. It was 10:30 AM Thursday at the local AMC 30. Yes, there were quite a few cars in the parking lot, but the few kids trooping in with their harried moms made for the Smurfs or Captain America. Most the couples heading toward the sleek circular ticket terrace were like us: graying with a slight arthritic limp.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 did not disappoint. Normally I’m not big on distopian settings, which pretty much describes the wizarding world with the rise of Voldemort. But by now the characters are so near and dear I want to follow them no matter what. J. K. Rowling is that brilliant.

The kids, meaning Harry, Ron and Hermione, are still endearingly young. But now, on the run against deadly evil, they display incredible resourcefulness and quick-minded maturity. The real hero, of course, is Hermione. Not taking anything away from Harry. He stands up and does what he needs to do. Ron’s value, aside from his loyalty and great lines, is largely accidental. He just happens to pop up at the right time or overhear some piece of critical info. The point is that they wouldn’t have gotten one meter on their way without Hermione’s cleverness and attention to detail.

The most important thing for me is the emergence from tragedy and near total destruction to the fresh and new. In the end, a new generation melts through the pillar at Kings Cross Station at Gate 9 ¾ to clamber aboard the gleaming red Hogwarts Express. Gotta love it.

Aunt Vivian’s 103rd Birthday Party – You won’t believe how good she looks!

2011-07-31T16:14:00.000-05:00

After she broke her hip last winter, we were afraid that would be it – she would rapidly deteriorate and die. But once again she has proven that you never, never, never count out Vivian Smith. True, she was a long time recovering, but after just 3 weeks of physical therapy she’s back up on her walker.

About 14 of us showed up at the seaside restaurant in Galveston to celebrate. The wait staff couldn’t resist pointing her out to other patrons. The whole place was buzzing about her.

By the time we repaired to her assisted living home for cake and ice cream, I figured she’d just want to lie down. But she remained her usual sunny self and even managed to blow out her candles. (No, there weren’t 103 of them. That would’ve burned down the house. We’re talking only three, as in 1-0-3.)

With a long history of good deeds and community activism in her native Mathis, Texas, there’s no more amazing woman in the world. I personally attribute her longevity to DNA (her mom made it to 101), her gracious and gregarious disposition, and almost total lack of meds. Yep. Only occasional pills for an infection or something, but NO maintenance meds. I want to grow up to be just like her!

What’s With BLUE?

2011-07-28T16:08:00.001-05:00

Last year on the Gather networking site, I asked readers to tell me some of the off-the-wall zingers their kids have uttered. The responses were varied and hilarious, but the stand-out for me was a 10-year-old’s comment on Avatar: “It’s the best movie about blue people I’ve ever seen.” Hmmm. I guess that rules out the Smurfs. Or does it? Maybe the kid missed the Smurfing generation. But guess what. They’re ba-a-a-ack. Why, I don’t know.

What's with the fascination for blue? We have songs about blue velvet, the blue bird of happiness, blue suede shoes, and of course blue skies. Whatever. It’s a very popular color.

AND if it’s simply a matter of color, there’s only one thing to say: James Cameron, watch your back.

The Tandem Tale Technique

2011-07-23T12:23:00.003-05:00

It’s a powerful but seldom used writing style: past and present stories unfolding simultaneously within a novel. I’ve only seen it twice.

One of the most profound examples is the Anasazi Mysteries, a trilogy by Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear. One moment you’re wholly involved with prehistoric peoples of the American Southwest, the next you’re following the lives of a modern-day team of anthropologists trying to piece together the ancient clues. Both worlds were tense and engrossing. I could hardly stand for the stories to end.

The other is the recently released The Sandalwood Tree by Elle Newmark. I reviewed it here http://fagan-authorspot.blogspot.com/2011/06/as-promised-sandalwood-tree.html In this case, the distance was only 90 years, 1857 and 1947, but the two worlds were significantly different nonetheless.

In both cases, the separate stories impacted each other in many startling ways, and the conclusions had the eerie effect of leaving you in both eras at once.

This is not a technique to take lightly. An author without the string of advanced degrees earned by the Gears, or the descriptive skills of Newmark, would be hard-pressed to pull it off. These writers are not only proven at their craft, but thoroughly immersed in their subject matter. If you want a riveting read, you want these books!

Why do We Rarely Read Our Own Genres?

2011-07-18T15:55:00.002-05:00

It’s come up several times during my blog hopping – the fact that authors seldom seek out their own genres to indulge in what Hermione Granger would call “light reading.” Nobody’s offered any reasons so far, just the observation. So I can speak only for myself.

And it’s true. Other than those who initially inspired me: George MacDonald, Lewis Carroll, J. M. Barrie, C. S. Lewis, J. R. R Tolkien, David Gemmell, and J. K. Rowling, I invariably reach way out into left field for a recreational read. Techno-thrillers, spy capers, historical novels, war epics…never fantasy.

Why is that? Maybe it’s just escape from the routine. Maybe I’m only interested in MY make-believe world, nobody else’s. Maybe I’m just jealous of my peers. Oh, come now!

Indulging in a broad range of interests has been extremely helpful to me, though. I owe as much of my battle strategies to Tom Clancy as I do to The History Channel. And my grandson’s bucket of soldiers. Ditto innovative weaponry. Robert Harris has given me insights into the daily life of advanced ancients.

So is there a point here? Not really. For whatever reason we deviate in our reading tastes, it certainly doesn’t hurt!

Dogging the Walk

2011-07-14T19:05:00.000-05:00

My morning walk is getting earlier and earlier these days, but now even at 6:30 AM it’s close to 90°. Walking in this torrid heat is stupid enough without compounding it with one’s dog. Usually I don’t take Chico with me because his summer allergies give him expensive skin rashes. But he looked so pathetic when I opened the door and shooed him back that I figured what the heck. I then discovered his walking harness no longer fit his unexercised little body. So go without it, I said to myself. Who’s going to be out on the track this early anyway?

Everybody. Everybody and his dog. While the little guy usually stays pretty close, the sight of another dog, someone running, a moving bicycle, or any combination thereof, throws him into a frenzy. Time and again I had to stop, pick him up, and carry him until a reasonable distance from the jogger/dog-walker/cyclist was established. Obviously, I ended up carrying him most the 1.5 mile distance. Which meant I couldn’t keep up my usual brisk pace. Which meant most the shade along the trail had evaporated by the time I reached the halfway mark. Which meant both of us were sweating, panting, and tongue-lolling-out-the-mouth exhausted when we finally staggered through the door.

I believe Tennessee Ernie Ford would call it “plum tuckered out.”

The WILCO Project - a brilliantly conceived techno-thriller that gets close to home

2011-07-08T13:51:00.000-05:00

I know, I know. “Techno-thriller” immediately conjures up scenarios of global conspiracies and futuristic weaponry. Not this time. This time, author Daniel Springer drops it right into your hand.

College professor Steven Archer and his team are developing a new game played with cell phones, the testing of which is wildly popular with the student body...until student bodies begin turning up during the games. Horrified that players are being killed, and baffled that 911 signals lead responders away from the victims, Steven is thrown into a complex murder case. Together with an old detective friend and a journalism student, he races against time to decode the sabotaged program before the killer can strike again.

The reader is thus drawn into the intricacies of the virtual world and its supporting technology. Yes, the jargon and descriptions sometimes went whistling over my head, but the story held me anyway. (It’s a trick I learned reading Tom Clancy. When the characters start eulogizing every detail of their gadgets, I tend to skip over everything that isn’t Need to Know.) Actually, Springer’s descriptions are easier on the layman’s mind than most. For one thing, most of us have duked it out with a router or a LAN or a game program by now anyway.

In addition to turning out a fast-paced mystery, the author has a real gift for dialog, both as speech and thought. It’s natural, familiar, and scene-setting. Students talk like students, cops talk like cops, and that stuffed-shirt college dean we all want to shoot sounds exactly as you’d expect.

Author Daniel Springer

The one thing I found somewhat distracting was the editing. I have a feeling the publisher assigned someone from the Romance dept. Characters’ hearts race and pound - sometimes twice in one paragraph. Steven Archer is always swallowing hard or taking a deep breath, particularly during the frantic action at the end when the reader least wants to hear about it. But, all said and done, Daniel Springer knows how to weave an exciting, intelligent and satisfying tale. The Wilco Project is well worth the read.

I met the author and his book at the Book Expo America. His publisher, Solstice, had the booth right next to VerveStar’s. And if you don’t mind this grandmother’s candid opinion, the young man is much better looking in person!

Tales of the Cracker Barrel, and why you should never – or always – stop there

2011-07-05T12:19:00.000-05:00

It started with this recent spate of commercials; steaming bowls of chicken and dumplings, long filets of locally caught fish lightly breaded in corn meal, fat sizzling links of sausage framing two sunny side ups like eyebrows, freshly baked biscuits, rolls, and muffins nesting in cloth-lined baskets, a huge, homey slab of chicken fried steak artistically slathered with peppery country cream gravy…all passing across the screen so seductively you can smell it.

After a few days of this, Husband spoke up from the depths of his lounger: “Tomorrow. 11:30. We’re going.”

Now, we’re no strangers to the Cracker Barrel. We generally pit there at least once on any given road trip. But it’s been awhile since we’ve headed anywhere. And let’s face it – with the kids gone and me spending insane amounts of time with books and blogs, the smell of home cookin’ in our kitchen is mighty rare these days.

So we went. Past the rows of rockers, the heavy double doors swung open to emit streams of tempting aromas. I sipped coffee while my wide, incredulous eyes took in the trays of fantastic meals being delivered to tables around us. With a prompt from Husband I turned back to my menus. Yes, menus – in the plural. The hostess handed us two each as we were seated at the heavy, rustic-looking log table with an oil lamp on it. And still more offerings on little stand-up cards. How could I possibly navigate my way to a decision?

Eventually, of course, I did. The side of fried apples was just like my grandma’s – drenched in cinnamon syrup. The biscuits were as light as Aunt Lillian’s. The meatloaf just like Mom’s. Aside from the sawmill gravy, which was better than anybody’s, it was pure Home.

Now I’m inspired. I want to cook again. In a fever of domesticity I combed through the grocery aisles for the forgotten items of my past: coarse ground black pepper, corn starch, baking powder…what? No leaf lard? How can I make biscuits from this imitation margarine?

You know, this might just be what Husband had in mind…

My fellow VerveStar Authors (Part 3): Franklin D. Murdock

2011-07-01T11:55:00.000-05:00

Were you wondering if I’d ever get back on track? Truth is, I’ve been searching for more information on this venerable 90-year-old author and poet with very little success. If I’d taken notes during his talk instead of sitting there in an enthralled stupor I’d have it all. Finally (duh) it occurred to me follow his press release on Google. Since the cover of The Best is Yet to Come is still in development, and the book not available for me to review, this will be mostly bio. And believe me, it’s plenty impressive!

I tagged along to his media conference at The Hallmark of Battery Park, NYC on Thursday, May 26, after we closed up the booth at BEA. Although too blind to really see his audience, he spoke strongly and engagingly. We were all immediately involved.

Murdock was born December 15th, 1920 in Salt Lake City, Utah, the fourth of five boys and one girl. From his press release:

He volunteered his service to the U.S. Navy in 1944 and spent one year in intensive schooling studying radio and radar electronics; serving on two different surface vessels before being discharged early in 1946. Following the military, he worked with Douglas Aircraft Company as a technician in the study of radio energy propagation/development of flush mounted antennae. He was general foreman of all engineering research and development laboratories before accepting a position of design project engineer for electronics and weapons systems for the A4 SKYHAWK airplane used by the Marines, U.S. Navy and several foreign countries. He retired after 34 years; when last of the A4 SKYHAWKS had been delivered.

It was the R&D during those years that led to the HUDs (heads-up displays on fighter jet windshields), iphones and all the other gizmos of today’s life.

Murdock’s primary subject matter is inspirational and spiritual, and he continues to deliver it well. He has written four books: My Life in Poetry and The Absolute Truth, Blessing or Presumption and recently an updated edition of My Life in Poetry. He also contributes to an active blog, networks on Facebook, and still researches daily for his future books. The Best is Yet to Come and his memoir are to be released by VerveStar.

This picture was taken at the VerveStar booth at Book Expo America. With him is his great-granddaughter, Mary, who travelled with him from L.A. They were guests at an assisted living facility run by the same company as his home in California.

As Promised: The Underside of Joy

2011-06-15T11:28:00.006-05:00

A little family begins a sunny new day and immediately engages us in their amusing let’s-pretend rituals. It’s idyllic. It’s totally believable. You’d be happy to go on like this forever. But only a few pages in, the joy is abruptly shattered. The daddy, already off for the day, is killed in an unthinkable accident.

We’re as numb and heartsick as the mom, Ella, as she struggles through the essentials of family and funeral. But there’s little time for coping as the tragedy quickly compounds. Paige, the first wife who abandoned the children as babies, shows up at the funeral. Although Ella is the only mother the kids have ever known, Paige methodically begins to insinuate herself into their lives.

Then, besides the insurance policy they never got around to activating, Ella discovers that her husband and his close-knit Italian family have shielded her from the fact that their store is failing and deeply in debt. Now Paige is back with a lawyer demanding custody of the children. Through it all, Ella is determined, resourceful, and poignantly human.

From the cover blurb: “The Underside of Joy is…the conflict (between Ella and Paige) that uncovers a map of scars – both physical and emotional – to the families’ deeply buried tragedies, including Italian internment camps during World War II and postpartum psychosis.”

It is this debut treasure from author Seré Prince Halverson that got me through a long flight with layovers from NYC to Houston. This is a story that could happen, and probably has happened, any number of times, yet unique in the telling. Its power lies in its reality and relatability. But it’s a story I probably would not have found had Seré’s friend Elle Newmark not sent me in search of her.

Thank you, ladies!

As Promised: The Sandalwood Tree

2011-06-13T08:47:00.007-05:00

India, 1947. British rule is drawing to a close and Partition begins. In the midst of this upheaval, an American anthropologist arrives on a Fulbright Fellowship to document events firsthand. With him are his wife, Evie, and their toddler son. In the seemingly peaceful outpost of Masoorla, Evie stumbles upon a cache of secrets hidden away by former occupants of their rented bungalow. Thus begins parallel stories of Evie’s family and the two women who lived there 90 years earlier.

This is Elle Newmark’s compelling new novel, the one I’ve been eagerly awaiting since she headed off to India for research. Just as she did in The Book of Unholy Mischief, Elle immerses us in the era, both with her gift for imagery and an abundance of authentic detail. You see women in colorful saris swirling through the bazaar, hear a tonga (carriage) clop along a dusty street, feel the grinding poverty, experience breathtaking scenery, smell a simmering curry. And you follow characters from both 1947 and 1857 through mystery and danger to the surprising moment that unites them.

From the cover flap: “The Sandalwood Tree is a powerful story about betrayal, forgiveness, fate, and love.” I gotta tell ya – it was terrible having to put it down two chapters from the end to go to New York!

This picture of Elle Newmark was taken during a side trip up the Himalayas. At 10,000 feet, she writes, she was only a third of the way up Mt. Everest.

It's official: Award-winning actress Jane Lynch will host the 2011 Primetime Emmys

2011-06-11T02:08:00.005-05:00

Jane Lynch, pictured here at the 2010 Primetime Emmys, won Outstanding Suppoting Actress in a Comedy Series.

“We’re delighted to have Jane Lynch host the Primetime Emmys this year,” said John Shaffner, Chairman and CEO, Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. “When our host has comedic, dramatic and musical talents — as Jane proved in last year’s opening number — we know it’s going to be fun for us and for the audience at home!”

“Jane was my first — and only — choice as the host for this year’s Primetime Emmys, and I am glad she said ‘yes,’ ” said executive producer Mark Burnett (Survivor). “She has incredible comedic timing and is a charismatic, talented actress whose energy leaps off the screen and stage.”

“I am tickled pink to be hosting the Primetime Emmys on Fox,” said Lynch. “I’m looking forward to singing, dancing and sporting my finest tracksuit.”

I’m particularly pleased with this news because I’m not only a fan, I’ve actually met her! Yes, that's me grinning like an idiot. I couldn't believe I was standing there with Jane Lynch! We were both at Book Expo America this year; I’m kicking off Book One of my Ammanon series, she’s promoting her new book, Happy Accidents, to be released in September.

Lynch is best known for her breakout role as Sue Sylvester on the multiple-category Primetime Emmy-winning Glee, but I liked her best as TV’s quintessential shrink. Almost every place she cropped up, she played the unflappable psychologist. Oh, the outrageous confessions of her patients; and oh, those memorable acerbic one-liners! To Charlie Sheen who’d suddenly developed an eating disorder: “Put that candy down or you’ll have more chins than a Chinese telephone directory.”

Nominations for the 63rd Primetime Emmy® Awards will be announced at 5:40 a.m. PT on Thursday, July 14. The show will air live from NOKIA Theatre in Los Angeles on Sunday, September 18, on Fox.

Writing BFFs: Elle Newmark and Seré Prince Halverson

2011-06-07T16:52:00.011-05:00

Let me interrupt my series on fellow VerveStar authors to tell you a sweet story.

A few years ago I ran into an uproarious and informative article called “Better Late Than Early” by Elle Newmark. I was so impressed that I had the audacity to write her a fan email. And she answered! She was, in fact, packing for a research trip to India when my note popped up. We’ve had a few brief exchanges since then, especially after I read her novel, The Book of Unholy Mischief (now retitled The Chef’s Apprentice). I reviewed it (here) as well as on Amazon and B&N. It was amazing. It’s a thoroughly researched, deliciously detailed, story of intrigue set in 15th century Venice.

Happily, I am now on her mailing list and was duly advised when The Sandalwood Tree, set in 1940s India, was released. I hadn’t quite finished it when I had to leave for New York and the BEA.

From my motel room I dashed off an enote asking Elle if she would be there. She responded:

I've never gone to the BEA but I have a dear friend who I believe is there right now. Her name is Seré Prince Halverson, her book is The Underside of Joy, and her publisher is Dutton. If you meet her tell her Elle says Hi. She's a great writer and genuinely nice to the bone.

Thus, basically an unknown to them both, I set out to do just that. I found Seré’s table in the Book Expo’s autograph section and got in line. Elle was right. She was indeed warm, unpretentious, and wholesomely pretty. Feeling a bit awkward, I blurted: “I have a message from Elle Newmark.”

Seré froze and her eyes widened. She actually teared up a little. Oh, dear. “Elle says ‘Hi’,” I continued lamely, “I had an email from her last night saying you were here.”

They weren’t just friends. They had known each other and written together for years and years. They were “sisters in writing,” Seré said. By the time I left, clutching an autographed copy of her book, I was nearly moved to tears myself. I’ve never had an experience like that – being a living link between two busy besties. Great feeling.

I promise to review both wonderful books in this space in very soon.

My fellow VerveStar authors (Part 2): Matthew Scott Kimple

2011-06-03T15:11:00.014-05:00

Is 27 years old too young for a memoir? Well…not if you’re a stuntman who’s worked his way up to Hollywood Stunt Coordinator (as well as acting in those same productions), is a screenwriter, wins medals in kung fu tournaments (is also a fung fu instructor), and has taught English for two years in China! In fact, it's quite a thick book. Sounds like he needs to do a memoir at least every couple of decades just to keep us caught up…

I didn’t know what to think when I met him. I mean, comparatively speaking, he’s just a kid. I wouldn’t say he was hyper or fidgety or anything, but he is definitely wired for action. And he kept everyone up and down the row thoroughly entertained with his quick wit and lively conversation. Until I got used to him, I panicked every time he spieled off some attention-getting scenario, like: “I’m going to run across the stage and knock over the podium!”

Other than that, he was completely poised and professional when meeting people at the booth. Believe me, we really missed him when he flew out on Thursday.

His book, cleverly entitled White Rice, chronicles his adventures thus far. Look for it November 2011. The cover is still in work. I’ve posted some prototypes. Which one do you like?

On a personal note, something seemed eerily familiar about Matt. I didn’t figure it out until after he was gone. There’s a character in my series called Daen, who was selected to the emperor’s elite personal guard force because of his quick wit, diplomacy, and acrobatic martial skills. While Ammanians on the whole are a large and muscular sort, Daen was small and agile – the type recruited to the imperial army’s special Stealth Force. The story often depends on his heroics. OMG. It’s Matt.

Introducing fellow author: JAHNAVI FOSTER

2011-06-02T10:58:00.011-05:00

The breathtaking photo above is the natural habitat of Jahnavi Foster. She snapped it from the porch of Quiet Mountain Sanctuary, her B&B in the Catskills. It’s the view she wakes up to every day. Yes, see me drooling into my coffee…

Despite her beauty and persistent inner calm, I would never have taken her for an Eastern mystic – not at first meeting. Jahnavi (pronounced JON-ah-vee) is a warm, animated, fun-loving person, very much alive in the physical realm. I was immediately drawn to her. Bit by bit I learned of her many accomplishments.

From her website, http://www.jahnavifoster.com/ : “Jahnavi Foster has been a serious student and practitioner of Eastern Vedic Philosophy for over 24 years. Twelve years of that she lived in an ashram (in India). Her advanced training in traditional yoga led to certifications in the Hatha, Jnana, and Bhakti Yoga practices.”

She is, additionally, a certified empowerment coach, frequent speaker and a licensed massage therapist. Vegetarian cooking and nutrition classes are among the activities guests at her mountaintop retreat may choose.

High time I mentioned her book: Divine Love – An Interview with God…The Source of Attraction. Divine Love is a guided journey toward spiritual awakening. Easy-to-read dialog helps the seeker to connect easily to the “divine wisdom within you – and to the loving relationships that exist among us all.” It is slated for release November of 2011.

It is, as Quiet Mountain Sanctuary is, “aimed to inspire individuals to live a more balanced, fulfilled, and meaningful life.”

For more information, visit http://www.quietmountainsanctuary.com/

Yes! I Did Meet Jane Lynch!

2011-05-30T08:05:00.004-05:00

Thursday, May 26, my last day at the BEA (Book Expo America) was long and hectic. The next day I flew home. Also long and hectic. So please forgive the lapse in time.

That morning (Thurs) there were four of us VerveStar authors at the booth. I managed to embarrass them all by shrieking “There she is!” when tall and picture-perfect Jane Lynch strode along the aisle toward the Uptown Stage.

She flashed a big smile. “Yes, here I am!”

Somehow I, a notorious klutz, scrambled over all the materials stacked around and under the table and emerged intact with my camera. She came right over to me, swung an arm around my waist and we turned to face a series of flashes. Husband and I are both big fans of hers. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I murmured something about how much I enjoyed everything she ever starred in. She gave me a gracious nod and was off to her speaking engagement.

By then I was aware that a crowd had formed, all of them busy sending pics to their entire contact list.

Around noon, Nick and Miranda arrived from a press meeting to announce that our press releases were now racing over the wires. We then proceeded to set up the cappuccino machine. Sort of. The machine seemed more bent on emulating Old Faithful than producing a trendy brew. After Housekeeping’s third visit to our booth, Miranda got it under control. By the time crowds started gathering for Jane Fonda’s turn on the Uptown Stage, it was turning out delicious shots of foamy hazelnut cappuccino. It proved to be a great way to attract a meet ‘n greet. (At right: VerveStar publicist Miranda Spigener, infamous coffee machine, author Jahnavi Foster)

At 3:00 The BEA was officially over. Time to strike the set. We were down to three by then: Nick, Miranda and me. We worked feverishly away, barely finishing in time to make it to Battery Park for Murdoch’s presentation.

Franklin Murdoch, I must explain, is the 90-year-old author of The Best is Yet to Come. He flew in from LA, aided by his great-grandaughter (above in background). When he wasn’t at the booth, he was at a nursing home in Battery Park owned by the same company as the one in LA. It was in one of their meeting rooms that VerveStar arranged his press meeting. Too blind to see his audience, he nevertheless held us enthralled. But ya know? That’s a whole nuther post. Stay tuned.

I’ll close at a nice quiet Japanese restaurant where we finally called it a day. Whilst sipping miso soup, Nick checked on my press release. It had gone out on Reuters, AP, and others I can’t recall off hand. Subscribers to these news services choose the items they wish to feature. By that time (7:30 PM) 268 had picked me.

On that happy note, we struggled back to our respective motels with a cabbie who didn’t know New Jersey. But that’s yet another story.

I Saw John Lithgow! And a few others…

2011-05-25T20:30:00.009-05:00

John Lithgow was actually yesterday. He presented his latest book on the Uptown Stage, which is right next to our booth. He gave a great talk, delivered in his most engaging manner, and he was mobbed afterward. Matt Kimple, a fellow VerveStar author manning the booth with me, leaped up and joined the fray. The kid’s a real freak for 3rd Rock from the Sun. Flushed with triumph, he returned with a phone full of bad pictures and an autographed book.

Now it’s Day Two at the BEA at the Javits Center in NYC. Celebrity authors are everywhere. This morning I unexpectedly found myself face-to-face with Dee Wallace. For a moment I just sort of froze, then fumbled for my phone. “Excuse me,” I stammered as I clicked away, “I’m a fan.” She was very warm and willing to talk to me. Even asked my name.

Michael Moore had the stage today. Of all his projects, the thing I remember most is a segment he did on his TV show called “Johns for Justice.” In fact, I think of it every time I’m in a public place like the Javits Center where long lines are persistently queued up at women’s restrooms. After a spot-on commentary about this chronic situation, he went around the country with a long, flatbed truck outfitted with a double row of port-a-potties so women wouldn’t have to wait. I wish he had that thing parked here now!

Matt spotted Florence Henderson earlier. Took a pic with her and sent it to his mom. Apparently she was a big fan of The Brady Bunch.

Then there’s this character in a gold lamé suit, a tall crown on his head, and a huge clock hanging around his neck. He’s walked past several times now with an entourage. I didn't take a picture because, after all, lots of folks do weird things to promote their books at the BEA. I'm using a photo found online. But the last time he walked by, Matt was here. “Do you know who that is?” he breathed in awe. I didn’t. “It’s FlavaFlav!”

“Oh, my goodness!” I suitably acknowledged, then quickly texted my son-in-law who runs The Guitar Center in Montgomery. So far he hasn’t responded, so if you don’t know who FlavaFlav is, there’s nothing more I can tell you.

Stay tuned to see who I see tomorrow…

Meeting Angels in New Jersey

2011-05-24T21:28:00.002-05:00

Hello and greetings from the 2011 BEA!

The adventure I’m reporting today, however, has little to do with books. The greater drama occurred wending my way back to the motel.

As you know, I’m staying in New Jersey this time for the economic advantages. But the bus that conveniently stops at the motel was supposed to take me to Gate 51 of the Port Authority terminal. It did not. Somewhere in the garment district, the bus stopped and the driver announced: “We done now.” And I was obliged to disembark.

And so, lugging a 3’x5’ poster, a box of 20 books, and a heavy tote – all jostling along on a rather wayward cart – I began negotiating the crowded sidewalks of New York. Since I’d been ousted mid-block, it was awhile before I found street signs to get my bearings. Hmmm. 40th Street and 7th Ave. By a joyous stroke of luck, there was a policewoman on that corner. The Javits? No problem. Just follow 40th to 11th Ave. Of course, what worried me all day was: where the heck do I find a bus that will take me back?

After the last meeting, I approached the concierge desk at the Javits. Then, armed with proper instructions – evidently I’d taken the wrong bus from the motel – I set off for the Port Authority at 42nd and 8th. No stupid poster and box of books this time, but still with the tote and cart. Several times I had to ask directions in that grim, gargantuan building whose grimy corridors flow upstairs and down like clogged arteries. But eventually I reached the correct sweaty dungeon, and Gate 51.

Once emerged on the NJ side of the Lincoln Tunnel, I craned my neck for the sight of my motel. Finally I decided to check with the driver. He couldn’t hear me through the bullet proof shield, but a trim little matron across the aisle leaned over to ask where I needed to get off. The Super 8 Motel? Oh, we passed that miles ago!

She called to the driver and invited me to get off with her at the next stop. She pointed out the bus stop on the other side of the street, and as if that wasn’t enough, she handed me money for the return trip. I protested, of course, but she really wanted to do this. Then, as I was waiting to cross the street, here came the bus. The dear lady flagged it down and the driver waited until I could cross. She went with me and explained how I’d made a mistake and overshot my stop. I thanked her profusely and climbed aboard, saying that if she was ever in Houston, I hoped someone would be as kind to her.

Then I offered the fare money to the driver. He waved it off and pulled back out into traffic. I was stunned. When we arrived at my stop he called it back to me, and again he refused the fare. I still couldn’t see the motel, but a man who’d gotten off with me pointed out the way: down the hill and around behind the Sonic Drive-In. No wonder I’d missed it! “When you see that filling station over there,” he pointed, “it’s time to call your stop.”

So here I sit, staring at that generous woman’s money on the dresser and feeling profoundly moved by the caring that has come my way today. No, I don’t like being caught up in this place of mind-blowing confusion, but I’ve just received a whole new attitude thanks to the people here.

Will I see you at the BEA?

2011-05-18T18:03:00.005-05:00

Only a few more days now! The VerveStar folks, Nick Delarosa and Miranda Spigener, are leaving Friday to set up Booth # 4885. As I run through the ranks of literary blogs, I find quite a few of you gathering your stuff to go.

There will be five of us debuting at the VerveStar booth this year: Mary Odle Fagan (that’s me!), Coco Mayor, Matthew Scott Kimple, Franklin Murdock, and Jahnavi Foster. My big media day will be Wednesday, but I’ll be cruising the Javits Center the rest of the time seeing how many of you I can find.

Tending to all the details just for my part makes me wonder how on earth Nick and Miranda are getting it together for all five of us. Sometimes I find emails that were sent at 4 AM! Sure hope they at least get some sleep on the plane. Can’t thank them enough for their Herculean efforts.

See you in NYC!

Thor Strikes a Blow for Marvel

2011-05-14T20:28:00.007-05:00

Back in my day (uh-oh. Here it comes...) comics were something you outgrew by the time you got into serious literature like Nancy Drew, Hardy Boys, and Treasure Island. Like, maybe 4th grade. So I just have to ask…what does this mass appeal of comic books say about our culture? Tsk, tsk. Are we so bent out of shape over current conditions that we crave empowerment? Are we so dissatisfied with ourselves that we dream of being faster than a speeding bullet or chucking lightning bolts at our foes?

Who cares? This is glorious, heart-racing, FX, CGI, 3D, mind-blowing FUN!

And anyway, who am I to talk? Ammanon is a muscle-bound saga of sword-swinging, spear-throwing warriors, too. Obviously we all like this stuff whether via books, Hollywood, the WWF, or Marvel. What’s wrong with strong? And who doesn’t love soaring away from the surly bonds of reality? Bring it on, I say!

I caught most of Chris Hemsworth’s interview on Regis and Kelly. He’s a likable sort, and certainly built for the part. Brilliant bit of casting. But more interesting to me was Kenneth Branagh’s involvement. Now there’s a comic-loving intellectual for you: a distinguished Shakespearian actor directing a Marvel epic. It’s a pity the kids only know Branagh as Gilderoy Lockhart from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. The man’s a classic.

Oh, and BTW, in case you think I’m totally out of touch with the Comic Con scene, here’s the grandkids at their parents’ favorite hangout.

“Well behaved women rarely make history.” L. T. Ulrich

2011-05-13T18:14:00.003-05:00

That’s the quote inscribed on a 6” purple glazed ceramic flower pot on my desk. Its rim bears bright orange stripes, in between which are embedded amethyst-colored rhinestones. Little ceramic ladybugs are stuck around it here and there. It was a gift from my BFF.

Why is that worth comment today? Well, it started when I watered the contents this morning: a Boston fern whose luxuriant fronds have been kinda puny of late. In fact, I noted as the water flooded the pot’s matching saucer and streamed over my cordless phone and recently printed document, it’s dead. For months it’s been shedding crinkly brown stuff all over the place. But as long as the tips remained green, I remained in denial.

No more. It took three towels to sop up the mess. I had to change the vacuum bag to finish sucking up the accumulated plant droppings, including the trail from desk to bathroom. The decaying fern has been transplanted to a doubled plastic grocery bag and consigned to the trash. I may as well admit that in the process I managed to knock over a quart bottle of water. I have two of them sitting open to allow harmful chemicals to evaporate before watering plants. Another towel, please.

But obviously such a remarkable purple pot must not remain empty. Elsewhere on my desk is a coffee mug which, due to a slight crack, is being used as a planter. Actually, the cup is no longer visible under the cascading tangle of some tiny-leafed succulent. Aha! Way past due for a transplant.

In this larger vessel, the plant leaves the Ulrich quote plainly visible, which I like. But it’s a very different effect. My wonderful pot, instead of being graced by regal branches of Boston fern, now looks more like a chia pet.

Well, I suppose if everything behaved properly, nothing would be written in history books, eh?

The Things that Comfort Us – until we actually eat it

2011-05-11T17:13:00.000-05:00

Here I sit in the Kroger parking lot, wastefully running the car’s AC while I eat a piece of Italian cream cake. Can’t help myself. For more than a week now I’ve been doing the thing that depresses me most: clothes shopping.

A fashionista I’m not. We writers tend to be a cloistered lot, after all. We hole up in isolated comfort to hack away at our craft. But when you’re preparing to face the media at the BEA (Book Expo America, you’ll remember) it behooves one to fake a little sophistication.

So I stand there in the merciless glare of overhead fluorescent lighting, my reflection wincing back at me as I try on one hopeless outfit after another. For three weeks I’ve been starving and exercising. How could I still be so much bigger than when I shopped for our cruise in 2006?

At one point I resorted to ordering from a plus size catalog. I don’t know how so many plus size companies found out I was gaining weight, but these days their catalogs strike my mailbox at the rate a three per week. So, all right, why not? Beats a department store dressing room. Well, today the first item arrived: a smartly styled summer-weight shirt jacket in a dusty pink and black print. Perfect. Except that it billowed around me like a circus tent. WHY? I measured myself carefully and ordered according to their sizing chart. And the same size at Macy’s was too tight. Sigh.

As it happens, the UPS store where I returned said garment is right next to Kroger. In a fit of pique I decided to check out their oops-we-baked-too-much discount rack in the back. I always do that when I’m down. Sure enough, an overlooked Italian cream cake, subdivided and packaged by the slice, was there to greet me. Dozens of nut chips were snuggled into the finely textured layers. Frothy cream cheese frosting generously enfolded it. Oh, yes.

On my way to check out, I stopped by the bakery department. “Do you have a small plastic taster fork?” I asked. “This has to be gone by the time I get home.” After more hilarity than it was worth, the ladies did indeed produce a little white spoon. And here I sit.

Was it worth it? Only while I was actually eating it. Because I’ve behaved myself for a protracted length of time, the toothsome delicacy is now a cloying, nauseous lump in my stomach. I’d head straight for the Pepto Bismal when I get home, but that would alert Husband to my indiscretion. Eat and learn, folks…

Fantasy Then; Reality Now

2011-05-09T14:44:00.003-05:00

On my morning walk today I was startled by a sound overhead...like a Very Large, very ecstatic, bumble bee. Adjusting my visor and sunglasses, I finally picked it out of the overcast. What the heck was that thing? It was soaring and circling and dipping and rising at quite a rate of speed. Suddenly I remembered a scene from an icky 1975 cult sci-fi satire, Death Race 2000, in which the racers were strafed by just such an aircraft.

It took some Googling, but I found it: a Rutan Long-EZ,G-WILY. Yes. And it wasn’t such a new-fangled thing after all. The design, according to Wikipedia, was first offered to home aircraft builders in 1976. Obviously it was at least on the drawing boards before director Paul Bartel hollered, “It’s a wrap!” No doubt the writers and producers expected WILYs to be in every garage by 2000.

But it did make me think about what futurists imagined way back when, and what has actually transpired by now. I mean, how much does the Apollo rocket resemble that ship of Flash Gordon’s? Nevertheless, it did happen, which in turn made me think about folks who don’t imagine anything of the sort.

Take that time back in my NASA days. I was helping a Boeing engineer set up his new office space when said PhD ambled out and plunked an open tome on my desk. “We need a new dictionary,” he muttered, and returned to his boxes.

I looked at the entry marked by a slash of yellow highlighter. “Rocket ship,” it read: “An imaginary airplane.”

I might actually see JANE LYNCH at the BEA!

2011-05-07T13:31:00.006-05:00

When publicist Miranda Spigener texted me that Jane Lynch would be at the Book Expo America in NYC I got very excited. She’ll be appearing on the Uptown Stage at the Javits, right across from the VerveStar booth! How perfect is that?

No, I haven’t been following Jane on Glee. I liked her best when she was typecast all over TV Land as a psychologist. She was so perfect in that role: always unflappable no matter how outrageous the confessions of her patients, and always ready with an acerbic one-liner.

Her credits are way more varied than that, of course. In one show I found her singing with a country music group. Only now have I learned she’s a regular voice on Phineas and Ferb, of all things, and even did a gig on Shrek. And I LOVE her commercials. A limo cat? Seriously.

No doubt she’s enjoying Glee much more than shrinking for the stars, most notably Two and a Half Men. For one thing, it’s catapulted her into well-deserved celebrity. For another, well…why keep trying to analyze Charlie Sheen?

You rock, Jane!

Do you love animals? Do you put them in your stories?

2011-05-05T16:37:00.008-05:00

Today I picked up Chico from the vet where we boarded him while we were away. I’d missed him so much, and eagerly awaited his usual antics of running around in circles and choking from excitement at the very sight of me.

But he did no such thing. He wasn’t the least bit interested in leaving this paradise of laps, constant attention, and other animals to play with. The staff loved him. He’d had the run of the place all week. He was spoiled rotten. When I got the little beast home, he plopped down with a huge sigh, his expression one of profound boredom.

Back at my computer, my dejected dog flopped at my feet, I got to thinking about the animals in my books. Oddly, none of my characters have pets. There are animals, of course. I can’t do without them. But in my stories they are creatures of purpose, not merely accessories. In Ammanon, the emperor’s mighty steed Maxor is pivotal to the plot, as is his captive wife’s mare, the fleet and faithful Zephyr. Not to mention a pair of wayward goats that actually decide the course of a battle. In later books of the series, other animals come forth as heroes and helpers.

But why, when I grew up with birds, turtles, dogs, cats, fish, hamsters, chickens, sheep, cows, and horses, have I neglected to insert them into the domestic lives of my characters? I have no answer for that one.

So…we’re getting ready for the BEA again…

2011-05-03T22:00:00.005-05:00

The international Book Expo is getting ready to happen. Actually, it happens several times a year in various places – Frankfort, London, Beijing, etc. – but the last week of May it happens at the Javits Convention Center in NYC. Hence, BEA, meaning Book Expo America.

The VerveStar partners started preparing months ago. They scored booth number 4885, an enviable location on a corner across from the uptown stage. (You’d have to see the five-foot-long diagram of Javits’ main floor to appreciate that…)

Last year I found the BEA to be the most seriously non-productive fiasco I could ever imagine. Just scroll back forever to last year’s posts and see. But THIS year I’ve got a new publisher, world class publicists Miranda Spigener and Nick Delarosa, and Booth 4885 to report to. I gotta believe that THIS year it’s gonna be different!

And THIS year I’m taking a hint from my son, who went to NY on business a couple of years back. The trick, it seems, is to stay across the Hudson in New Jersey where prices are somewhat more reasonable. There’s a ferry that goes from Weehawken directly across to the Javits. And there’s probably also a bus that would kindly take me through the Lincoln Tunnel and deposit me within a couple of blocks of said destination. And instead of running the gamut of Travelocity, Expedia, Orbitz, Kayak, Priceline, Hotwire, etc., I’m trying Southwest Airlines. So far they’ve offered the lowest fares to both LaGuardia and Newark Int’l.

So if you’re thinking about the BEA, or New York City in general, stay tuned. When I get this all worked out, you can profit from my traveling discoveries!

Are there conditions under which you simply CANNOT write?

2011-05-03T18:34:00.006-05:00

I’m in one right now. We’re in a motel on the way home from visiting grandkids and I'm trying to catch up on my blogging. But here’s the thing: Husband has to have background noise while he’s reading and talking and computing. I can’t function at all in front of the TV. This paragraph took one show segment and six commercials to complete.

Husband is the master multi-tasker. He can read Forbes, check his email, play chess, and carry on a conversation – all while watching one of those TV shows where loud music with lyrics fights the actors’ dialog. Now, as much as I wish I could be that way, too, there's simply no getting around it. I'm a person who works best in silence, or at least in a distraction-contolled environment.

Once I did make a max effort to tap away through gunshots and sirens. Unfortunately, I was so successful at blocking out the world around me that I missed something Husband said. Oops.

So...what would take maybe 15 minutes cloistered in my computer room at home, has run through a complete episode of “Castle” and the news. Sigh.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who has trouble with distraction!

It’s about Blogging…and Montgomery

2011-05-02T17:01:00.005-05:00

Greetings from Baton Rouge! It’s our stopover between Montgomery, Alabama and Houston, Texas. After a weekend with my daughter’s family, four very bright but hyper kids, there’s no way we can make the 12-hour drive in one go.

But the road trip isn’t the entire reason for my inattentiveness of late. It’s BEA (Book Expo America) time. My preparatory task was to go through a lengthy list of literary blogs, both to familiarize myself with what’s Out There, and to get a sense of How It’s Done. If anyone Out There is reading me, you know that’s long overdue!

Oh, my friends, there’s some brilliant stuff Out There. You meet kindred souls in your genre. You learn about industry trends. You absorb a wealth of How-To’s. You view an exciting panorama of new releases and wonderful classics. You can read, read, read!

Now I shall seriously digress.

Did you know that Montgomery has an AA baseball team called the Biscuits? Saturday night found us in the stands of venerable Riverwalk Stadium with hundreds of jubilant locals. Evan Longoria was rehabbing there and the place was packed. Actually, it’s always packed. It’s not that the Biscuits are a winning team so far this season, it’s the spirit of Montgomery.

There’s an event between each inning: a local dance troupe, a Boy Scout knot-tying competition, a pop quiz. My 15-month-old granddaughter was even recruited for a baby-crawling race.

Railroad tracks run along left field, and the mayor has declared that if a batter hits a passing train, Hizzoner will stop the game and present said player with a thousand dollar check.

There’s a lively organist that keeps the crowd stomping and clapping and yelling “Charge!” And whenever a foul ball soars out of the park, the sound of breaking glass and a car alarm blares from the sound system. Best of all, this particular game ended with a spectacular fireworks show.

Yep. Next to surfing blogs, I like Montgomery best.

The Nut Job in the Attic

2011-03-20T16:31:00.003-05:00

I’m being very literal here. It’s a squirrel. Or my husband. Hard to tell who’s nuttier since the feud began. At some point during one of our rare freezes, the varmint found a hole in the soffit and took shelter in the attic. We might have been more hospitable had it simply curled up next to the water heater or furnace or something to wait it out. But, no. It has to scamper, scratch, rip, claw, and irritate the hell out of Husband. No kidding. It sounds like the critter’s moving furniture up there.

None of the human accesses to the attic (there are 3; our house is oddly configured) have given us the slightest hint of where it is, or any sign of a nesting place. That lack of intel may well lead to the total destruction of our home.

Husband started by tapping the soffit with a rake handle. The first two times it worked. The squirrel shot outa there like an RPG. But then it began making forays deeper and deeper into the attic, to the point where we are now getting the full surround-sound of its activities. Now I vacuum plaster at least twice a day from Husband pounding the ceilings with mop and broom handles. An appropriate implement strategically resides in each room.

But that’s not the worst of it. You see, even before the home invasion, Husband has been battling the fluffy-tailed rodents who persist in stripping our pecan tree and digging up his prized tomato plants. He has a .22 pump-action pellet gun equipped with (get this) a sniper scope. But he’s no longer content to be the terror of the back yard. This is war. Time to bring in the heavy artillery.

I was sitting here on the computer the first time I heard Husband firing blindly all around the attic. Must’ve jumped a mile out of my chair. Then it escalated to strings of firecrackers that actually rattled the windows and caused the lights to flicker. But as if nightmares of smoldering insulation weren’t enough, it seems my father-in-law’s WWII issue M1 has come out of hiding. Fortunately, there’s no ammo for it. UNfortunately, there is for the more modern pistols which used to be safely locked in a strong box. OMG. Never mind the bullet holes in the ceiling. What about plumbing, heating and electrical?

Once, sitting here listening to the scrapings above and the mayhem below, I confided my fears to my sister, the Mountain Woman. Not many days later, The Depression Era Cookbook arrived. Carefully bookmarked was a recipe for squirrel. Very funny, Sis. I’ll roast the critter over the embers of my home.

Nightmare at the Pump? Daydream it away.

2011-03-04T11:50:00.006-06:00

(This was written during an earlier gas price crisis, which accounts for some antiquated references)

These days it all seems to be disappearing: road trips, pensions, savings, jobs, retirements, even money for that most reliable time-honored escape: alcohol. What have you got left? Your imagination! Even the IRS can’t get that – depending on how you’ve been applying it, of course.

Let’s look at what you can do with that which even a crashing economy cannot take away. Let me set a sample scene. Work with me here.

Say I wake up one morning (I’ll do this in first person to ward off any possible offensiveness) and there’s a cloud over the sun. This is highly significant. Ever since I moved to this corner of Texas I’ve had a profound appreciation of clouds. I don’t care if they’re funnel-shaped, slamming hail and damnation upon the earth, or screaming in off the Gulf at 90 mph - just so long as they cover the sun.

Back to our scene.

There’s an assortment of bills on the kitchen table, most of which I haven’t a prayer of paying. Here’s where clouds come into the decision-making process. I elect to pay the electric bill rather than gas up the tiny, rusted relic in the driveway because, see, if it’s cloudy I just might survive the two-mile walk to the nearest mailbox. (The P. O. can’t afford gas, either, you understand.) So here we go.

Sgt. Maj. Jonas Blane dominates the room as much with his piercing eyes as his physique. He leans casually against the refrigerator, arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing standard issue Army brown T-shirt and camo fatigues. His voice is bridled thunder.

“Got any questions about this mission, soldier?”

“No, sir,” I respond smartly.

“You understand the highly trained, intensely muscled men in The Unit can’t blend into this environment. Only a frumpy, middle-aged housewife can carry out this mission. And you’re the one, soldier. You got that?”

“Yes, sir! The mission is in good hands with me, sir.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s Allstate’s stand.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’m not sending you out there alone. Can you handle a Doberman?”

“Er…yes, sir.”

He whistles sharply and a brute the size of a horse marches around the corner. Sgt. Maj. Blane snaps on a leash.

“You’re in control, soldier. Remember that. He can smell fear from three miles out and it really pisses him off. No fear! Got that?”

“Yes, sir!”

He looks at his watch and then levelly back at me. The look is severe but not entirely unkind. “Lives are depending on you, soldier. Ready?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Gear up and get out.”

“Yes, sir!”

I adjust my floral print sun visor, slap wrap-around shades over my trifocals, and jam a plastic bottle of frozen tap water under the belt at my back. The vital message is tucked in a back pocket. I take the leash from his hand.

“Good luck, soldier!” he booms.

“Thank you, sir.” I salute.

I leave my air conditioned house and hit the road like a stick of butter under a blow torch. The mission already seems impossible. The ice bottle is lukewarm in less than five minutes but there’s some relief as condensation soaks my clothes. The great dog pants but is otherwise taking this thick, oppressive heat better than I am.

Suddenly the sun plunges free of its tempering veils and slashes at the landscape with searing brightness. As my eyes fog over with stinging sweat I depend more and more on the dog to pull me along.

“Hey, lady, what the hell is that?”

“Huh? What’s what?” I swipe at the sweat and blink up at a trim, wary looking septuagenarian.

“Is that a dog? What kind is it?” he asks again.

“A good one, sir. He can smell a dog treat from three miles out.”

He gives me a strange look and moves along. I return to my fantasy.

There are others staggering along out here with me. A few appear to be kids, one or two are older guys, but most are women like me. There’s no way of knowing which of them is looking to thwart this mission. I can see now why Blane’s men would stick out like big, muscular thumbs. The enemy would pick ‘em right off. Yes, it’s all up to me. Failure is not an option.

The great dog whines insistently and pulls harder. Through the blur of shimmering heat I discern a figure sprawled on the road up ahead. As we get closer I see thousands of intricate mathematical equations scrawled everywhere in light blue chalk. The figures are starting to liquefy on the steaming pavement. Whipping the hot water bottle from my belt I kneel at his side. “Oh, my God! Professor Eppes!” It’s that Numb3rs guy! I lift his head and hold the bottle to his lips. “Come on, son! Drink!”

He finally takes a few week sips; eyes still closed, heavy stubble going back to five o’clock three days ago. Then the large, liquid black eyes open. “Blane sent you?” he gasps.

Suddenly I’m on full alert. “You know the sergeant major?”

“Listen! I can’t last much longer. I’ve worked up this algorithm...I know who’s trying to stop you...you gotta hurry...gotta get there first. Go! Go! You can’t save me now.”

“Who’s trying to stop me? Who did this to you?”

“C-corporate agents! (Gasp) It wasn’t enough to outsource all...information technology...to India. Now all math...is going offshore...and I was the only one...s-standing in their way. Now Blane’s in danger, too but...but he doesn’t know that yet.”

“Blane? How can they outsource HIM?”

“They c-can’t. But the DOD contracted all (gasp) covert operations to-to Backwater. And Backwater’s just been bought out by some terrorist group in (gasp) Afrantikstan.”

“But, Dr. Eppes! What can I do?”

“Get the message through! If the truth gets out...we stay in good hands...and (gasp) Americans can use their own thinkers...if we still have any. Go!”

He goes limp. The large, mesmerizing eyes are lifeless. The dog that was sitting as still as a statue utters a deep-throated howl.

Filled with resolve I stand and take the leash in a firm hand. “Come on, big guy! We’ve got a job to do!”

All right. You get the picture. With imaginations in full gear we make it all the way to the mailbox, pay the electric bill, and score AC for at least another month. So, with apologies to Dennis Haysbert, who plays Blane in The Unit, and the jogger who thought my Chihuahua was a rat, it’s possible to do anything in a daydream.

Why didn’t I apologize to David Krumholtz, you ask? I lost him. His numb3r was up. But here’s the thing: with the polar ice cap due to vanish by September he shall again emerge (soaking wet) as Bernard, Santa’s intrepid, wise-cracking, and very endearing Top Elf of “The Santa Clause” fame.

So get to it, folks. Ride dragons, win gunfights, head off disasters in galaxies far, far away. And tell me all about it when we join the rest of the homeless under the bridge.

A Letter from New Zealand

2011-02-23T14:19:00.004-06:00

Hi Mary,

We are all so upset and in shock. It is a terrible event. 75 are confirmed dead with up to 300 missing. The aftershocks are big and frequent, causing more damage and distress. I am not feeling the quakes where I live. (Wellington, on the North Island) We never thought that Christchurch would be place where earthquakes like this would occur.

Thankfully our family members in Christchurch are unhurt, but have damage to their homes and possessions. One cousin’s home is completely destroyed. The damage this time is far greater than the first one. (Sept. 2010) It will take a long time just to recover basic services like sewerage, water and power.

The beautiful, historical city of Christchurch and Lyttelton, where I used to visit as a child, is changed forever. The Mayor there is amazing, as are the rescuers, police, firemen, army, medical people, and so many others. Professional people are now arriving from other countries to help. We so appreciate their assistance and kindness.

There is real concern over the 17-story hotel in the central business district. It is leaning to one side and looking about to fall. You can see a crack down one side from the top of the building and the top is sagging.

Some amputations have occurred to free people. Many severe crush injuries are being rushed to hospitals around the country.

My sister, who lives 100k south in Temuka, was badly shaken, she could not stand up when the quake hit, so it was not just the city of CHCH.

Her daughter and grandson are in ChCh so she traveled up with food and money as banks are non functional and food shops damaged. Everything in the house was smashed to pieces.

My sister had to take out a loan to help her daughter. We are helping from here where we can. They cannot use toilets or showers. Drinking water is being tanked in, but not enough to meet the needs.

There are still reports and stories of amazing rescues. We are glued to the live TV to keep up with what is happening- it's compelling but so dreadful. There is a lot you can pick up on YouTube. Here is a link to the spectacular glacial calving resulting from the quake. http://tvnz.co.nz/national-news/glacial-calving-after-earthquake-4039406

My Mum grew up in the areas so badly affected. She is so upset I spent much of today with her. She is 84 and lives about 9mins away from me.

Thank you for caring. It helps to tell someone. Your prayers are valued.

Glenis

Fantasy Fudge for your Valentine

2011-02-13T08:55:00.005-06:00

Now, the last thing I ever intended to do here was post recipes, but it is, after all, Fantasy Fudge. And I’m all about fantasy! This appeared on the Gather networking site, submitted by Mandy Sedinger of Chicago. By the looks of her profile, she’s much more artsy and gastronomically gifted than I. But if this recipe produced a meltingly creamy, velvety-textured fudge for me, think how well it will work for you. (Oh, I do love to cook. It’s just that my skills run more to breakfast, cookies, quick breads, and entrees. The art of candy making utterly escapes me…until now.) So here goes:

Fantasy Fudge

3 cups sugar

3/4 cup butter

2/3 cup evaporated milk

1 12-oz. pkg. semisweet chocolate pieces

1 7-oz. jar marshmallow crème

1 cup chopped nuts

1 teaspoon vanilla

Combine sugar, margarine and milk in heavy saucepan; bring to full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Continue boiling 5 minutes over medium heat, stirring constantly to prevent scorching.

Remove from heat; stir in chocolate until melted. Add marshmallow crème, nuts and vanilla; beat until well blended.

Pour into greased 13 x 9-inch baking pan. Cool at room temperature; cut into squares.
Makes 3 pounds.

Obviously, this is not for the diabetic. Come to think of it, Fantasy Fudge could just as easily be an empty pan. No, that would be Phantom Phudge, better suited for a Sci-Fi blog. Whatever. Seriously – try it. You’ll love it. And so will your Sweetie!

Look at my new commercial!

2011-02-06T09:20:00.004-06:00

It’s out there on YouTube: Ammanon Trailer
Last year, when my publicist recommended I make an EPK (electronic press kit) for the Ammanon series, I contacted Darkblade Media Productions because they had such a cool, animated logo. (Logo 2 ) When they responded, I discovered the company was run by the same man who posts those clever and insightful movie reviews on the Gather site. I was delighted.

Anyway, he agreed to try the EPK, so I wrote a script, collected pics, recorded some sound, and sent it in. Now, anyone who's worked with me back in my TV days can tell you I can get way too complicated. "A production nightmare!" a director screamed once.

So when I didn't hear from him after a while I wasn't too surprised. And since I'd never really seen the point of the project anyway, I didn't push. I just continued following his movie write-ups and admiring his turn of phrase. Once in a while we’d exchange another flurry of emails, tossing around ideas to make the video halfway do-able. Did I ever suspect that Darkblade Media was a 13-year-old kid? Not a clue.

Anyway, last week he popped up again with a new idea, this shorter but very professional "commercial" that he'd just put together. I loved it! Hope you do, too. Oh, by the way, he's 14 now...

Yes! We can finally get our hands on this:

2011-01-29T13:50:00.003-06:00

Remember when I first blogged about my New Zealand author friend, Glenis Thomas? Well, take a look again! Click n' Drool Ah-h-h-h…every vivid, scrumptious picture guaranteed to keep you salivating for a week! I’ve been fantasizing about it for a year…even before blueberries were officially listed as a superfood. And it’s FINALLY available for order. http://www.blueberryrecipes.biz/

Each recipe is illustrated in all it’s gourmet glory. More importantly, it’s spiral bound so the book stays open without the toaster sitting on it. AND the covers are laminated for easy cleaning. Very important when working with blueberries! The blurb from the site:

Blueberry Recipes is a spiral-bound book with laminated covers. The 196 pages are full of colourful inspiration with 150 illustrated bluelicious recipes and ideas for using blueberries. There is information on history, health, storage, and also cooking tips and hints. The 21 recipe categories cover "every season and any reason to make your day bluelicious!"

Yes, that’s right: "Colourful." The measurements are in metric. BUT there are conversion tables in the back. I simply plan to pen in the American equivalents as I go. See? No prob. And anyway, most measuring cups these days have metric markers as well.

So again, here’s the site: http://www.blueberryrecipes.biz/ I’m going with PayPal for ease of currency conversion. Oh, I can’t believe I’m finally going to get my hands on this blueberry book! Happiness strikes!

Special note to my readers:

2011-01-21T17:35:00.004-06:00

The Ammanon series has recently been acquired by VerveStar, LLC, terminating my association with my previous publisher. As a result, the first 3 books already in print may no longer be available until they are issued under the new imprint. I see that Amazon is already treating Book One, The Prophecy as a collector’s item! At this writing, the other two are still available from independent Amazon venders.

In approximately one year, re-edited and redesigned versions in hardcover and dust jacket will be released, and the series will continue. I assure you it will be an improvement worth the wait!

About my other projects: the non-fiction Confessions of a Clueless Caregiver, originally the first choice of VerveStar, is on hold for now. It is the true, bittersweet, often hilarious tale of the way I breezed back after years and miles away in order to "keep their lives normal." Right. But this is good, I think. The Ammanon series is already three books in, and should be continued in a timely manner.

The Hundredth Spring is my first, and avowed last, sci-fi novel. It's the story of a housewife from the 1940's misplaced among warring alien races. It's been a fun trip; combining a favorite fantasy with memories of Medaryville, Indiana, during the war years. It’s homespun wisdom and lots of Hoosier colloquialisms interspersed with tech talk and wildly different cultural norms. The first chapter has already been published online: Read it here!

My editor for this manuscript happened to know a sci-fi type artist (see my article “Look What I Found Without Looking”, September 12, 2010). He is now doing some original art for the cover. When it’s finished, I will start shopping the book again. There was little interest when I was submitting Spring awhile back, but I got so involved with my motley assortment of characters that I just may publish it independently. For one thing, the people of Medaryville who were so helpful during my research should see a copy before they die. Two dear ladies actually lived during the era described and are now quite elderly.

Well, that catches us up for now. Have a great weekend!

Are you trying to get published?

2011-01-16T19:55:00.008-06:00

Let’s face it: when it comes to publishing, it’s a jungle out there! An aspiring author basically has three choices: a traditional and/or Big Name publisher, a subsidy publisher, or a vanity press. Unless you’re Stephenie Meyer, James Patterson, or Stephen King, you can totally forget about the first one.

A subsidy house is iffy at best and fraught with fraud at the worst. They will review your manuscript before offering a contract and, ostensibly at least, offer to share the cost of publication. Unfortunately, they are usually just after the front money – fees, plus however many copies they can get you to buy.

The vanity press is self-publishing, pure and simple. They will give you a finished product with the least hassle, but there’s no attempt at quality. Like the subsidy operations, the vanities offer all sorts over-priced and under-effective editing and marketing services. Sadly, it’s way too easy to suck in a new author chasing a dream.

But that said, far be it from me to discourage you from having a dream! Unfortunately, I have little help for you. Every time I think I’ve got a handle on the way things work in this business, I quickly realize I don’t know zip. I was lucky – at least with Books One and Two of my series. Eloquent, a subsidy imprint of Strategic, was pretty much a one-man operation when I was referred to them. That man was Mark Bredt, who did a brilliant job on my cover and generally took good care of the entire process. He also assigned an editor named Jennifer Leigh Mustoe to do a 3-chapter evaluation of the manuscript. She absolutely tore me apart. Best thing that ever happened to me! Then she disappeared. I’ve been Googling her for years now with no luck.

Book Three was a nightmare of epic proportions. The burgeoning Strategic was sucking in manuscripts by the hundreds and adding departments and off-the-street personnel at nearly the same rate. Even before I became aware of all the legal and ethical charges against them, I was contending with a deranged artist, a third-world Outsourced press writer, and complete lack of interdepartmental communication. But AMMANON Book Three, the Deliverance did finally get out there. And NOT with that cover!

My new publisher, VerveStar, is a small traditional publisher. They’re not just continuing the series; they’re starting over with Book One. This time it will be done professionally in hardcover with dust jacket, and properly promoted. Unfortunately that means Ammanon will not be available on Amazon.com or other sources until it comes out again under the new imprint. So, dear readers, please help me to be patient!

The Creationist’s Chalice by Nikki McLean

2011-01-03T15:23:00.007-06:00

This recent entry into the world of fantasy has a lot going for it – not the least of which is it’s cover! Whoever coined the phrase, “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” was obviously blind to the literary industry. This cover grabbed me right away and did not disappoint. I failed to find a credit for the art, but someone working for the Athena Press of Twickenham, England, was truly inspired.

The premise: a young girl named Lindsay discovers that the fairy tale world of Dalkana not only exists, but was created by her ancestors. Mystically guided through the portal from modern day Scotland, Lindsay is instantly confronted by her true identity as the Fifth Creator, a god to the peoples who live there. This she learns from the first being she meets, a surly archer named Dalgarno who harbors a hatred for the Creators.

While struggling with this new reality, Lindsay finds herself on a quest for the Creationist’s Chalice, which she must have to overcome the Destroyers bent on crushing Dalkana. Dalgarno, mostly as punishment, is assigned by his village elder to guide her to the chalice. For Lindsay, of course, this only adds doubt to the danger.

McLean’s imagination and descriptive abilities make up for a certain immaturity of style. I found some punctuation choices, for instance, rather distracting. But before I go lamenting the lack of English instruction in schools these days, as I frequently do, it should be noted that much may be due to differences in usage. McLean is a very youthful Scottish lass, while I am an elder Yank. None of the foregoing, however, kept me from enjoying the story!

In the process of writing this, I discovered that Miss McLean has a very striking website: www.wix.com/nikkimclean/nikkimclean. As luck would have it, it was being edited and I was unable to access the various pages. Hopefully we can visit it soon to discover more about this intriguing young lady.

By the way, I’ve signed with a new publisher!

2010-12-27T11:48:00.006-06:00

Remember last summer when I posted about VerveStar? (July 11, 2010) They’re a highly-rated international PR firm now branching out into more comprehensive media services and publishing. I met one of the partners, Miranda Spigener, while they were doing some contract work for my previous publisher. Later I did a bit of work for them on their new website, http://www.vervestar.com/, which is still being renovated, and was thoroughly impressed by their capabilities and operations. So when they approached me about taking over the Ammanon series, it was, like, are you kidding? I’m there!

VerveStar has a radically different approach. Actually, it’s the way it should’ve always been. Sort of an “Ah-hah!” moment in the literary industry. As recognized leaders in the PR world, the VerveStar partners understand that it’s publicity that moves the market. Obviously, you can’t sell it if nobody knows about it, right? Therefore, VerveStar is developing the publishing around the publicity...the way most businesses have done for years!

It only makes sense to build a campaign around the author and his book, and then publish in the wake of that in-place and ongoing publicity. This will provide authors with a much better outcome than the hap-hazard, largely do-it-yourself marketing programs of today’s publishing houses. VerveStar believes that the first and final product needs to be the publicity, not the book. They are publicists first, publishers second.

Think about it. Why do it any other way?

Music I Write By: Soundtracks and Genre Collections

2010-12-13T14:05:00.006-06:00

If you’re a fantasy writer, there’s a treasure trove of music from the movie industry to move your story lines. The stirring themes from Lord of the Rings, Avatar, Narnia, Superman and way too many others can keep the creative juices flowing. But here’s a caveat: interspersed with the main themes are lengthy passages of two-note monotony. Behind the action on the screen it imbues an intense atmosphere. By itself, it imbues intense boredom. Or extreme depression. Batman is a prime example. (BTW: the soundtrack with the least waste music I’ve found so far is Avatar.)

Then there are the wild back-ups for scenes of conflict, like wars, etc. Unless you happen to be constructing a battle scene yourself, it’s big-time disruptive. You know what would be perfect? (I can’t believe they never do this!) Make an album of the main themes performed as complete individual works and LOSE the endless background stuff! I’ve seen formats that come close, which brings me to the next thing: genre collections.

The best examples in my library are Music from the Science Fiction Movies and The Fantasy Album. But they’re not perfect. “Dual of The Fates” from Star Wars I – The Phantom Menace will completely blow your train of thought. And you may not get it back until Track 10: “The Search for Spock.”

Better by far is the second one, which features suites from Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Gladiator, Mummies 1 and 2, etc. Great stuff with very little scene filler. I’m sure there’s more like that out there, but I haven’t found them yet.

Yes, I know. The best of all worlds is to burn your own collections. I’ve tried that. Recently I downloaded several tracks and still haven’t been able to locate them on my computer, much less drop them on a CD. Trying to figure it out takes long, fruitless hours of frustration, even with help from Mumbai. Used to be I could transfer selections from CD to cassette, but that wonderful all-purpose stereo system just sank into the tar pits with the rest of the dinosaurs.

Now before I leave this series of articles, I’ve just gotta ask one question: would anybody else love to hear Susan Boyle’s sweet, lyrical voice doing “I See You” from Avatar instead of the rock version?

Music I write by: Mythos

2010-12-05T11:40:00.004-06:00

Mythos offers a smorgasbord for the imagination. This Canadian duo of Bob D’Eith (keyboards) and Paul Schmidt (guitar) knows how to combine an exciting beat with mysterious melodies and soaring vocals - great background for creating the fantasyscapes of your stories. It’s even better if you have a cup of chai to go with it.

But while it’s great food for creativity, the Mythos repertoire is uneven. One must be careful about album selections.

My first Mythos CD, Reality of a Dreamer, thrilled me with its breathless, haunting quality and emotional involvement. I went on to Purity and then to Eternity (which, by the way, features a “Kyrie Eléison” that will raise the hairs on the back of your neck - way more than in church). But somewhere along the line they introduced a trumpet with one of those attachments that makes it sound like a drugged bumblebee. I hate that. It’s a thin, bitingly nasal sound. It has its place in the Big Bands of the 40s or in jazz combos, I suppose, but PLEASE don’t assault my ears with it while I’m composing dialog in classical English! Fortunately, it’s only here and there amongst the titles, so I’m learning to live with it.

Then came Mythos ‘N D J Cosmo. The titles immediately appealed to me: “The Heart of the Ocean” (Titanic), “Unchained Melody,” “Send Me an Angel,” etc. But once past the exquisite first seconds allowed on the samples, it burst into dizzy, double-time electronic reverberations and totally fractured the melody. So be warned.

After writing the above, a new Mythos CD I’d ordered arrived. It must be one of their earlier ones because it’s entitled simply Mythos. And it’s everything that drew me to them in the first place. Fantastic!

Check them out here: Mythos CDs

Music I write by: David Arkenstone

2010-11-18T14:23:00.003-06:00

Do you play music while you write? What’s your favorite? There are several that I use, but it’s David Arkenstone’s compelling beat and soaring harmonies that really feed my soul.

I have only four of his CDs: Quest of the Dream Warrior, Echoes of Light and Shadow, Return of the Guardians, and Spirit of Ireland. That barely scratches the surface of this prolific musician/composer. Fifty-one albums to date. And I want them all!

Pigeonholed as “New Age,” his range defies genre. He does Celtic, Native American, Asian, Christmas, odes to movies, and blissful atmospherics – nearly all of his own composing. The brief bio on AOL Music puts it artfully: “California's David Arkenstone blends global, cinematic, and rock elements into his new age sonic tapestries.”

And he does! Influenced by the likes of Kitaro, John Williams, and Mannheim Steamroller, all favorites of mine, he does wondrous things for a writer’s imagination.
Follow this ungainly link: http://www.amazon.com/David-Arkenstone/e/B000APYTKM/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1290032284&sr=1-2-ent

Then choose an album that strikes your fancy and listen to samples. You’ll see what I mean!

New Atlantis: Kingdom of Youth

2010-10-25T14:15:00.006-05:00

Here's a major adventure for mid-schoolers! This new release by R. W. Garrett compares favorably with the tales of C. S. Lewis. In fact, Garrett acknowledges his influence in her work.

The story centers on the Chosen Children, set apart by the Unknown God to populate three small islands north of the main continent of Atlantis. While the purpose of the divine directive is one of mercy and survival, the crafty and unscrupulous King Jorash seeks to twist it to his own liking. The Children reach the appointed age of 14, and their training begins. Adult mentors teach them all aspects of community: government, construction, farming, mining, etc.

But when the priests cast lots to choose the youthful king for this new country, it falls on the earnest, conscientious Savot, not Cain, the boy who shares the king's agenda. Thus, during the year of training, King Jorash plots with Cain and other like-minded boys to get rid of Savot and run things their way.

The time comes when the Chosen Children voyage to their new home and are left on their own. Though they now face very grown-up challenges, responsibilities and dangers, Garrett never forgets that they are kids. Pranks, antics, and youthful dialog abound. This is a complex adventure, but Garrett tells it simply, and in language appropriate for the target age group. There is plenty of suspense and excitement to keep the reader involved. The ending, while satisfying, leaves ample material for a sequel. Lets hope it comes soon!

Authors: Use the Tools Available on Amazon

2010-10-18T15:57:00.002-05:00

This may be one of my more interesting blogs. Not because of the subject matter particularly, but because I’m dreadfully high on pain meds at the moment. Twisted something during aerobics this morning. My sweet, solicitous husband offered me of his prized prescription post surgery pills – Vicodin, I think it’s called. Since I rarely take anything stronger than aspirin, and rarely take even that, I’m having quite a reaction. I mean, I even feel disconnected from my tongue.

But this is NOT what you tuned in to hear.

Last week I talked about Search Inside the Book. Or, as those of us already Inside call it: SITB This time I want to tell you about another neat way Amazon offers to enhance your listing: the Author’s Page. It’s announced (with your photo) just ahead of your first book.

Begin with Amazon’s home page, and enter “Author Central” in the search window. No, no, don’t type in the quote marks! Geeez. That was just for illustrative purposes. Follow the instructions for entering your books, bio, photo and whatever. After you submit the info, they’ll reply that they’re building your page and will get back with you within 7 days. Parts of it may appear before others. Don’t panic. Be patient. Seven days, remember?

I’ve barely scratched the surface with mine so far. You can link it to your blog and website, add a string of photos, etc. There’s just lots of cool things you can do there to entertain and tantalize your fan base.

Take advantage of every tool you can find. Remember, the more readers can learn about your book, the more apt they are to buy it.

New Authors: Learn to use the tools on Amazon!

2010-10-12T16:50:00.003-05:00

A great new kiddie book hit the market last week: NEW ATLANTIS: Kingdom of Youth. The author, R. W. Garrett, wrestled a compelling cover from the publisher, but I can’t show it to you because the Amazon listing doesn’t have it! This I discovered when I went to the site to post a review.

Horrified, I rushed her the link to Amazon’s Seller Central, the one I use to add “Search Inside the Book” to my own listings. They have instructions for submitting your files: front cover, back cover, and text block.

But when SHE clicked the link, it went to a whole different world of advertisements and pricey packages – no resemblance to anything I was seeing. At my suggestion, she typed SITB in the Amazon search window. No luck.

I was stunned. It’s so easy. I’ve done it with the 3 books I now have in print. Finally it hit me. When I click the Amazon link on my faves list, it “knows” me and displays accordingly. It knows what I mean by Seller Central even though it’s called something else now. Sigh.

So next time I went in from scratch – typed “amazon.com” into my ISP’s search window and went in as a stranger. After a bit of scrounging, I finally found it. You may want to take notes here.

First off, here’s the link: http://www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html?ie=UTF8&nodeId=14061791&ld=AZSearchMakeM but it may be temporary. They tend to change things between books. So…in case the link sends you hurtling into parts unknown…here’s a likely path to follow:

1. Amazon.com home page
2. Scroll all the way to the bottom. You’ll see 3 columns of lists.
3. On the middle one, Make Money with Us, click: › See all
4. Now you should be looking at another list of choices. Choose: I want Author and Publisher Tools
5. Another display magically appears. The obvious choice here is: >> Search Inside!
6. Click that and follow the instructions.

The NEW ATLANTIS author emailed back in short order: “It worked!” Whew.

Next week: Creating an author page on Amazon.

Take the Vow to Get Old Without Getting Gross

2010-10-03T14:50:00.003-05:00

I suppose this is just fantasy, too, but we’ve got to at least TRY! I mean, isn’t taking care of elderly and infirm relatives teaching you anything? C’mon, people! Give a thought to your family and caregivers! Now, then. Repeat after me:

1. I will NOT refuse to have my hair washed even though I’ve gotten along fine for two months and become eco-system for fleas, lice, ticks, ants, and spiders.

2. I WILL choose to be cheerful. Raging against everyone and everything because I’ve gotten old won’t change anything. Plus it wastes precious energy.

3. I WILL accept that other things exist in the world beside my stupid aches and pains. In fact, listening to the news and/or taking an interest in others can actually distract me from them.

4. I will NOT refuse basic hygiene even though I may have figured out by then why crabby old folks hate being clean.

5. I WILL change my hearing aid batteries regularly.

6. I will NOT regale all and sundry with my bowel activities. Ditto the arthritis. And my latest surgery.

7. I will NOT make every statement a complaint.

8. I WILL thank people for their efforts, even if I must (politely) pass on the Cajun crawfish with fire sauce they have prepared for me.

9. I WILL acknowledge that certain aches and limitations come with age and stop running to doctors and taking a gazillion pills trying to be “normal” again. Notice that half the meds are to correct the side effects of the other half.

10. I WILL cultivate a pleasant disposition so it’ll be habit by the time my mind goes. I WILL be like my 102-year-old Aunt Vivian who’s a joy to be around even though she constantly repeats herself.

11. Lastly, I will NOT keep griping that I don’t care about anything and just want to die. An exasperated great-grandkid just might ruin his life accommodating me!

The Silver Sycamore B&B – Rustic with Class

2010-09-20T14:25:00.010-05:00

Deep in Pasadena, Texas (a community just southeast of Houston) there’s a rustic oasis called the Silver Sycamore. Trundling down Pine Ave., a two-lane blacktop leading away from the bustle of Beltway 8, one comes unexpectedly upon this campus of quaint cottages nestled in lush landscaping. The compound includes a tea room, a garden with a picturesque gazebo, and an elegant reception hall. It now extends across the street to a shop, spa, and bridal accommodations.

Since my publicist, Miranda Spigener, is the daughter of the Silver Sycamore’s owner, I scored an invite to an open house this Sunday. The event introduced the gift shop, four tiny rooms packed with all sorts of imaginative goodies: cold-insulated dip servers, teas, dip mixes of every description, cookies, cup & saucer sets, unique kicked-up condiments, local honey, and more gadgets, collectibles and gizmos than I can remember. I came away with a large, colorful pumpkin cookie and a pound of pecan flavored coffee beans. Tantalized all the way home by the aroma, I couldn’t wait to brew it. It was so good. It was so smo-o-o-oth. It is SO the reason I’m wide awake at 3:26 AM writing this.

On September 15, the local ABC affiliate aired a special segment on the Silver Sycamore. It took 6 hours to shoot and was beautifully done. Take a look: ABC-TV news segment

But I learned even more from the chatter in the checkout line. It seems one of the cottages is a place where a bride can sleep, then prepare the next day in the well-mirrored parlor. At the proper time, a horse and carriage arrives to deliver her in style to the site of the ceremony: either the lacy gazebo or the reception hall.

The Silver Sycamore is the inspiration of Jackie Spigener. This winsome, wispy blonde who looks younger than my daughter is the driving force behind this project. She and her husband, both with backgrounds in construction, have been bringing the dream to life a piece at a time. First the gourmet Tea Room, then the B&B, then the bungalows – all either existing historic buildings or retro-built using materials recovered from 19th century homes.

There’s so much more than I can feasibly present in a blog. Please visit their website: http://www.silversycamore.com/ore.com/ and their Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/silversycamore for the rest of the story. Better yet, go!

“Look what I found without looking!”

2010-09-12T10:59:00.006-05:00

That was a lyric from a mini opera on Mister Roger’s Neighborhood, and in this case it’s poignantly true. I hadn’t given any thought at all to a cover for my sci-fi The Hundredth Spring. First things first, after all. I haven’t even found a publisher for it yet. Then out of the blue my editor, Mary Sell, sends me these incredible pieces of art that immediately fired my imagination.

She wrote: Stan and I have a friend in Kentland who's an artist. His forte is sci-fi action figures. He's about 55 and disabled. He’s lived with his parents since the onset of the illness in his late teens.

"Back in the 1990s his dad took him to New York to the comic book publishers and book publishers with a portfolio of his art, but they got nowhere and it was very disheartening for him. Tom also does pencil and pen and ink drawings.

"Last fall his father died, and his mother's in a nursing home. Tom is able to live on his own. I believe he would love to do a painting of one of the scenes from the Ammanon series. I've attached samples of some of his work.

Well, the Ammanon books already have an established theme so I, of course, thought immediately of The Hundredth Spring. Obviously that would be the better application of his talents. Personally, I think his work is too emotional and expressive for comics. The pleasing play of shapes and colors, the imaginative way he leads the eye though the scene – the man’s an illustrator, not a cartoonist!

I sent descriptive passages from Spring and background notes to be passed on to Tom. Whatever his disability, there’s no doubt he’s capable of creating exactly what I want. In fact, I can’t imagine anyone doing better. So I’m calling dibs, folks!

The Human Face of the New Zealand Quake

2010-09-05T15:14:00.008-05:00

Remember my friend Glenis Thomas? I blogged about her blueberry cookbook about a month ago. She lives in Wellington, NZ. I emailed her when I learned about the 7.2 quake on the news. She replied that she’d slept through the whole thing! Wellington, you see, is on North Island. The epicenter was near Christchurch, which is on South Island. However, she’s since been sending me links to the local media and sharing eyewitness accounts that you’ll never catch on international news.

It seems that New Zealand sits above an ongoing collision between the Pacific and Australian tectonic plates. The country records more than 14,000 earthquakes a year, but only about 150 are felt by residents. Fewer than 10 a year do any damage. Now Canterbury University geology professor Mark Quigley (OMG. Quigley Down Under?) says it looks like a new fault line has been ripped in the Earth’s surface. “We saw two houses that were completely snapped in half," he said.

As you can see, the greatest damage and debris is fallen bricks. Glenis tells me almost everything there is brick. Yet only two serious injuries were reported as chimneys and walls of older buildings were reduced to rubble. Prime Minister John Key said it was a miracle no one was killed. "If this had happened five hours earlier or five hours later (when many more people were in the city), there would have been absolute carnage in terms of human life," he told TV One News Sunday.

Then, in spite of flooding from broken water mains and total power and utility disruptions, the miracle stories began coming out. Glenis shared these with me:

One lady heard water running and stepped out of her house in the dark to see what it was. She promptly fell into a deep hole that had opened up and was suddenly up to her neck in liquid sand. Her teenage daughter was following right behind her but apparently offered little help. “The woman broke all her nails getting out,” Glenis reports. “Terrifying!”

A 15-year-old boy was asleep on the 2nd floor, his bed against the outside wall. When the quake woke him, he rolled over just as the outside wall of his bedroom ripped away. He fell to the ground as the interior wall collapsed onto his bed, escaping with only scratches and bruises! The house, a lovely country home, was completely destroyed.

A young woman awoke when her friend, screaming at her to get up, pulled her out of bed just as the outside brick wall collapsed onto the bed. She said she felt the brush of a falling brick go passed her head.

Glenis says the street in a new suburb must be right on the fault line. All the upscale homes there have been moved and twisted from their foundations. They are uninhabitable as are hundreds of others.

Wow, Glenis! I think I’ll stick to hurricanes!

Getting Back to Fantasy…where would you most like to live?

2010-08-29T17:34:00.017-05:00

A couple of years ago I tried this on the Gather networking site and got quite a response. Now that Hollywood has given us yet more fantasy places, let’s try it again. I’ll start with a previous favorite – Middle Earth: the Shire, Lothlorien, and Rivendell.

Now we have Pandora:

Then there’s Eragon’s world from Chris Paolini’s Inheritance Cycle:

And other fantasyscapes I’ve scrounged up around the web:

Of course, I'm still partial to Ammanon:

So I’ve shown you mine. Show me yours!

The Irresistible “I’m Glad I’m Me” Teaches Us How to Talk to Each Other

2010-08-22T12:20:00.006-05:00

Yes, I’m still genre-jumping! My grandson pulled this out of our children’s bookcase yesterday and I fell in love with it all over again. Sheila Aron’s little gem, “I’m Glad I’m Me” is, as an interviewer on FOX news put it, “a parenting guide disguised as a children’s book.”

The book is a dialog, a script. Knowing the positive impact messages of love between parent and child can have, Sheila offers 18 simple, everyday conversation models. It gives you the words you need. And when you read it to your kids, they’re hearing what they need to hear.

I actually met Sheila before her book. Her book signing was the week before mine, and I went just to see how they worked. I was just starting out. She was already a veteran of the signing scene, having done the likes of Barnes and Noble, Borders, and Brazos, the most popular indy bookstore in Houston.

With the event winding down, we sat down with coffee and chatted. She’s a petite brunette, very pretty in a thoughtful sort of way. I asked how “I’m Glad I’m Me” came about. It’s a poignant story. One night on the evening news she heard a story about a young girl committing a horrific crime and it struck a chord deep in her soul. Why do these things keep happening? What triggers it? What can be done?

As she explored the problem, one thing stood out for her: people don’t know how to talk to each other. In this era of tension and uncertainty, chopped up text-speak, emotional disconnection, and parental exhaustion, few can even conduct civil conversations, much less express love.

Here’s an excerpt: “…when we are working together: Thank you for helping me. Working or playing – I love to be with you.” Sound sappy? Think about it. It’s what you feel, isn’t it? It’s what you mean. It’s what you want to say. So say it! Get used to it! Start building your attitude; that positive relationship. The few minutes it takes to read and share this book could impact a child (and you!) for a lifetime.

Beautifully illustrated by Charlotte Arnold, it’s a book a child will reach for. Because of the subtitle, “Weaving the Thread of Love From Generation to Generation,” each book comes with a symbolic multicolored length of yarn, which I've found useful for marking my place when Mikey suddenly needs a potty trip.

Since the last time we talked, Sheila has set up a wonderful website: http://www.sheilaaronbooks.com/. I close with a quote from it:

Sheila Aron’s advocacy for loving parent-child relationships reaches deep into her Houston community. She has donated copies of I’m Glad I’m Me to various charitable organizations including Harris County Children’s Protective Service, ESCAPE Family Resource Center and ChildBuilders™ for distribution to families served by these organizations.

Odd Moments in History – August

2010-08-15T18:04:00.003-05:00

I know, I know. August ain’t half over yet! But already there’s quite a collection of oddities – and who knows what impact they’ve had on life as we know it? For instance:

Aug. 3, 1985 - Mail service is discontinued to a nudist colony in Paradise Lake, FL until residents promise to wear clothes or stay out of sight when the mailperson comes.

Aug. 4, 1693 –Dom Perignon invents champagne. (This day is now more popularly known as U.S. Coast Guard Day. No doubt it’s celebrated with champagne.)

Aug. 6, 1981 – Fire fighters in Indianapolis, IN return from a false alarm to find their station ablaze from a grease fire. (Turn off the burners before you leave, guys…)

Aug. 6, 1762 – The first formally acknowledged “sandwich” since Roman times (beef and cheese between slices of toasted bread) is devised for John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich.

Aug. 7 was quite eventful:
1983 – Over 675,000 AT&T employees, mostly operators, go on strike. Middle management mans the switchboards and quickly decide they need a union, too.
1947 - The balsa wood raft Kon-Tiki struggles across 4,300 miles of Pacific Ocean only to crash into the reef of a Polynesian archipelago.
1876 – The centuries old custom of tup-running (trying to seize a ram by its greased tail) goes wildly awry at Eton College. The panicked ram swims the Thames and runneth amok through Windsor Market with the boys in hot pursuit. Much mischief resulteth.

Aug. 9 was even busier:
2004 - Donald Duck receives the 2,257th star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.
1944 – Smokey Bear debuts as the spokesbear for fire prevention. He’s the creation of The Forest Service and Wartime Advertising Council.
1905 – Ty Cobb’s mother mistakes her husband for a burglar and kills him.
1678 - American Indians sell the Bronx to Jonas Bronck for 400 beads.

Aug 10, 1846 - Congress charters the Smithsonian Institution, called "the nation's attic."

Aug 14, 2126 - Comet Swift-Tuttle makes its closest approach to Earth. Just a little heads-up there…
1756 – And a society note here: Daniel Boone marries 16-year-old Rebecca Bryan.

Aug 11, 1984 – President Reagan (for a radio voice check): "I have signed legislation that outlaws Russia forever. We begin bombing in 5 minutes." This day has also been declared Presidential Joke Day.

August 13, 3114 BC – The first day of the Mayan calendar, according to the Lounsbury correlation.

August 15 is host to many momentous events:
1969 – The Woodstock Music & Art Fair opens in Bethel, NY (Max Yasgur's Dairy Farm). Billed as "An Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace & Music," it features
24 bands and draws over 400,000 people. The event became an iconic cultural phenomenon.
1968 – Pirate Radio Free London goes on the air. A transmitter was set up in an apartment, and their aerial was a long wire which ran across a street and a railroad track and was tied to the fire escape of a BBC building.
1877 - Thomas Edison writes to the president of the Telegraph Company in Pittsburgh stating that "hello" is more appropriate than "ahoy" when answering the telephone. Like, why not just call him about it?

Aug. 16, 1920 - The only fatality to date in major league baseball occurs when Ray Chapman (Cleveland Indians) was hit in the head with a fastball from Carl Mays of the NY Yankees.

Aug. 17, 1977 - FTD (Florists Transworld Delivery) reports that orders for flowers to be delivered to Graceland for Elvis Presley’s funeral surpasses any other event in the company's history.

And so it goes. I had no idea what neat stuff I’d be learning when I took on the “Today in History” feature for http://www.vervestar.com/. The biggest shock was August 10, 2003, which was the first marriage from space. It was between cosmonaut Yuri Malenchenko, who was orbiting in the International Space Station, and Ekaterina Dmitriev, who was down at Houston’s Johnson Space Center. Unfortunately, I misunderstood my source’s rather vague listing of the event and thought both were cosmonauts, and both were aboard the ISS.

But no problem. One of VerveStar’s founding partners, Miranda Spigener, is a personal friend of Ekaterina (“Kat”) and was able to correct my entry. It seems Kat even starred in a short film written/directed/produced by Miranda. (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0280921/) It won Audience Choice as Official Selection at the 2001 Venice International Film Festival and appeared as part of the Alternate Selection/Audience Pick at the 2001 Berlin International Film Fest. Wow. Like I said, you never know what you’re going to learn.

Now get out there and make an Odd Moment for me to report!

Elle Newmark’s The Book of Unholy Mischief : the story is history and suspense, but the book itself is a mystery. It…uh…smells good

2010-08-09T16:46:00.004-05:00

There is a whole lot to say about Elle Newmark. Her PR coup, a virtual book-launching party that reached 500,000 people and netted her a prestigious agent and a 7-figure advance from the likes of Simon & Schuster, is legendary. I “met” her on Nikki Leigh’s blog http://detailwithnikkileigh.blogspot.com/ where her uproarious “Better Late Than Early” article was posted. Finding we were the same age and both newly published, I shot off an email with sisterly congrats. She was packing for India at the time but answered me anyway. We had a few exchanges since, and I still frequent her blog.

As for the story, it immerses us in 16th century Venice. We live history through the eyes of an urchin named Luciano who is plucked from the streets by the head chef of the lavish Doges Palace. But in the midst of exquisite culinary details, we are caught up in a vicious search for a particular book of alchemy, said to contain the secrets of wealth, power, and life itself. Beautifully and cleverly descriptive, the story twists, turns, and finally emerges as a lasting testament to wisdom and truth. (That was excerpted from my own review of this book.)

But this isn’t about either of the above. It’s the physical book itself. It smells good. That’s right. It smells good. It filled the room with a mysterious, ethereal fragrance the second I pulled it from its wrapper. The hardcover binding was absolutely steeped in it. It’s not like anything I’ve ever smelled before. It’s a haunting, hypnotic floral incense type of thing. What the heck is it? I sniffed my way passed high-end department store fragrance counters. Nope. I ducked into candle shops, hobby shops, and boutiques. I even browsed extensively in a mix-your-own perfumery in the Bahamas. Nope again.

But never mind the what of the matter. It’s the how and the why. Is it some gimmick Simon & Schuster employs with its Atria imprint? I emailed Elle. No, she’d never heard of them doing that. Ever.

I contacted the Amazon distributor who shipped it. No, she hadn’t personally spilled anything on it and hadn’t noticed anything peculiar when she acquired it.

When I was at the Book Expo in NY back in May, I stopped by the Simon & Schuster booth and asked ‘em point blank. Why, no. They’d never heard of such a thing!

Could it have happened in transit? But there would’ve been stains and fragrance on the padded envelope, right?

Ah, well. One more deep inhale and I’ll return it to the bookcase. Some things are just meant to remain a mystery, I suppose…

So I got to Wondering: What Does It Take to Produce a Cookbook?

2010-08-01T10:24:00.009-05:00

Another genre heard from! Even before I met Dr. Ann Moseley, author of college level English textbooks (see post on July 18, 2010) I was exchanging emails with another author, the artistic and irrepressible Glenis Thomas of Wellington, New Zealand.

Glenis and I met via my website some time back when she was gathering info on publishers. When she said she was working on a blueberry cookbook I made a point of keeping in touch. I LOVE blueberries! Just look at her beautiful website: www.wotzon.com/w/eggart which announces her upcoming Blueberry Recipes. In her words: “It's point of difference is that it is dedicated to one type of fruit and every recipe is illustrated.”

The first thing I wanted to know was: who took all those mouth-watering pictures? She did! Which led to the exquisite crystal and china pieces. Were they hers? Well, they are now! She boldly approached “a huge company here in NZ” and stated her purpose. And would they like a mention in her book? I guess so - they gave her a gift certificate to cover her purchases!

It helps that Glenis happens to be an extremely creative, artsy-crafty person in the first place: “I designed the book and layout. I composed and took the photos of my recipes…and had two skilled friends edit and proof read. My neighbours, my international students, and friends were taste testers.”

“Neighbours?” Uh-oh. Does than mean the measurements are in metric? At this point, she’s considering two versions for her international audience. Actually, it happens that my Pyrex measuring cups are labeled both ways. I’m sure most are. But the folks she polled in the US want things stated in the imperial system. Conversions, she tells me, are terrifically time-consuming. “So far the book has cost me 20 months work.” Blimey, mates! I want that book NOW!

What else is involved? In her own words:

Being a compilation helped, as I have several recipes supplied by cook book authors, restaurant cooks, and foodies from USA, Canada, UK, Australia, and NZ. Blueberries have only been in NZ 30 years, and commercially about 20, so it is a young industry here.

I did a lot of research about blueberries and publications. I approached experts on the subject of blueberries to make sure my history, health and storage info was correct. I also contacted the Blueberry Industry "umbrella", Blueberries NZ Inc. to enlist their help in contacting blueberry farmers and checking info. I will be going to their AGM (Annual General Meeting) in September to personally promote the book.

Wow. So…when can we get our hands on it? A few weeks ago I pointedly mentioned that July is National Blueberry Month. The operative word here is “National.” You see, in NZ blueberry season is November. So her publisher will either release it then, or “sometime next year.” Sigh.

Okay, I know you’re all wondering. Yes, Glenis had friends and relatives appearing as extras in Lord of the Rings.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to her website to pre-order Blueberry Recipes.

“When 102 years old you are, look this good you will not!” -Yoda

2010-07-31T13:27:00.003-05:00

Vivian Smith, my aunt-in-law, turned 102 on July 29. No way does she look it! She takes no meds except over-the-counter stuff occasionally, but these days she does need a walker to get around. Yes, she’s very hard of hearing, but is still quite sociable and loves going out to eat. Eating out, in fact, has been her favorite thing forever.

We marked the occasion with a small family gathering at a seafood place in Galveston. The restaurant’s marquee read: “Happy Birthday Vivian Smith, 102 years.” OMG you should’ve seen the close calls on Seawall Blvd. with folks slowing down to snap pics of that sign! Other restaurant patrons stopped by the table to offer congratulations. Aunt V was, as always, warm and gracious to all.

My sister-in-law Kathy planned everything – even had the group over to her lovely house afterward for cake and punch.

Aunt V is in care now. Kathy bravely tried to do it all herself for a couple of years, but she has to work and Aunt V can’t remember to do things like eat, bathe, or change clothes. The short-term memory is totally shot. Still, she’s a happy, pleasant person to be around, and she remembers everything from 1990 on back. And that’s quite a lot.

I have no doubt we’ll be celebrating birthday number 103. In fact, Aunt Vivian will probably outlive us all.

Odd Moments in History

2010-07-25T09:57:00.002-05:00

July 2, 1843 is remembered as the time an alligator fell from the sky during a thunderstorm in Charleston, SC. And do you know why July 22 is known as Ratchatcher’s Day? Legend has it that in 1376, that’s the day the Pied Piper led rats out of Hamelin.

Ever since I started researching the Today in History feature for the Media Room page of http://www.vervestar.com/ I’ve been amazed at the crazy things that get recorded for posterity. Like, on July 18, 1994, Crayola introduced scented crayons. Gee. That should be worth a few firecrackers. This certainly would: that same day back on 64 AD, the great fire of Rome began. No, it wasn’t due to unruly crowds at Nero’s violin concert.

Dairy Queen’s Blizzard of the Month is Pecan Pie because – guess what! – July 12 is National Pecan Pie Day.

July 19, 1994 is famous for the first game ever cancelled due to falling tiles. That happened at Seattle’s Kingdome.

July 13, 1568 is in the books as the day the art of bottling beer was perfected at St. Paul’s Cathedral in London.

July 17, 1070, Arnulf the Hapless became the Earl of Flanders. Are we having fun yet?

Almost every day commemorates some bizarre thing or other. July 17, for instance, is Yellow Pig Day. Yes, it is. It’s a mathematician’s holiday of sorts – a day when all the Lennys and Sheldons of the world consider the interesting properties of the number 17. The designation arose in the early 1960s when certain geeks at Princeton U discovered that yellow pigs have 17 eyelashes.

Obviously I just started this in July (National Ice Cream Month and National Anti-Boredom Month, among other things) so I am only scratching the surface of what’s Out There. Can’t wait for August…

And I thought publishing fiction was rough! Ever try writing a textbook?

2010-07-18T20:58:00.005-05:00

On a cruise back in May, our table assignment landed me next to a fellow author. But she was no mere novelist. Dr. Ann Moseley produces such ponderous tomes as Strategies for College Writing: Sentences, Paragraphs, Essays and Interactions: A Thematic Reader. One has gone to five editions. Talk about suddenly feeling two inches high!

Of course, that’s not all she’s done. Besides achieving multiple degrees in record time, teaching college level English, and penning the above-mentioned texts, she’s also working on a comprehensive Willa Cather Scholarly Edition. OMG.

Once I recovered from open-mouthed awe, we began comparing notes. I have one editor. She has four: (1) acquisitions editor (who works out contract details), (2) developmental editor (who manages pre-publication reviews of a new edition, which involves about 30-40% change, and includes proposals and advice throughout the process) (3) permissions editor (who negotiates permissions and fees to use copyrighted materials), and (4) copyeditor who checks for errors and problems in style. Gasp.

My process is basically 3 steps: manuscript review, revision, production.

Dr. Ann’s current work consists of eight units. After all receive final revisions (she has just submitted #3), she must then create the Instructor's Resource Manual, some brief comprehension quizzes, and additional student instruction for the website.

Well, I bet she’s never had to deal with a Third World press writer...