Yes, it’s the big day for me. I’m not telling you what year, but I started compiling a list of things that did not exist when I was born and got really depressed.
So I thought I’d post something about another source of anxiety–the upcoming election. I don’t think I need to remind anyone that I’m an Obama supporter. If they don’t hold the election soon, I’m gonna bust. LOL But in the meantime here’s something fun pointed out to me by fellow author Gwynne Forster. Enjoy!
I’m sitting here watching The View and an interview with the actor who plays Dick Cheney in the new movie W. I’m also thinking about the most pervasive question I get as an author: where do you get your ideas. Now I know you are wondering how exactly these two things intersect, so I’ll tell you.
Many, many, (many to the tenth power) years ago, I was young, adventuresome and caught in a downpour trying to get from Vineyard Haven where my cousin and I had gone to swim back to Oak Bluffs where we were staying (this is Martha’s Vineyard folks). We had walked there but now we were soaked. So my cousin decides what we really need to do is hitchhike the rest of the way.
Now, a few years back, when we were teenagers we’d hitchhiked as a group. Our caveat was that we we only allowed to accept rides from little old ladies. Yeah, we followed that. But on this particular day I was convinced that no one was going to stop for two soaking wet women but an ax murderer with a gun under his seat. You can see that at an early age I had a flair for murderous fantasy.
Still I wasn’t too worried since not a soul stopped for us . . . until a lone car slows and eventually stops in front of us. The first thing I notice as we approach the car is that there is a baby seat in the back. So okay, how bad could he be if he’s got a back seat stuffed with baby toys? Still, as the two of us squeeze into the front seat, I tell my cousin to get in first since this was her idea. If this guy starts anything I’m throwing myself from the car.
So we’re finally in and I’m so squished I can’t see who’s driving. I can only hear his voice, which sounds oddly familiar. He’s telling us about how he only stopped for us because he was lost and he was hoping we could tell him how to get back to where he was staying.
And it hits me who the voice belongs to. I can’t see him, so I have to ask. “I may be completely crazy, but are you Richard Dreyfuss?” He laughs and says, “Yeah, and my hobby is picking up strange women in the rain.” My cousin elbows me and tells me she was trying to play it cool. Oh, well.
Well, we show him where to go, then he drops us off at our B&B (The Pequot, by the way, only two blocks). We try to tell him how to get back to where he’s staying. From the befuddled look he gave us we figured he’d be looking for some other drenched folks for further instruction.
The funny thing is, this happened a couple of years after Jaws was filmed on the island. So it couldn’t have been his first time there.
But THAT is where I got the idea for my hero Jarad Naughton’s faulty sense of direction in Spellbound.
And, yes, I did climb the mountainside at Gay Head on a dare. What the hell was I thinking?!?
Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the bookstore–my first book Spellbound is being reprinted this month by Parker Publishing. Pay no attention to the wedding cake on the cover. It’s not a story that ends in a wedding, but what happens when my heroine Ariel arrives on Martha’s Vineyard to attend her cousin’s wedding. Let’s just say that I wanted the tagline on the book to be because every good bridesmaid deserves fun. LOL
It’s a lighthearted romp around the island where I spent the summers of my misspent youth and where I started writing. It’s the story that made me the debut Rising Star author at Romance in Color and the book that spawned the series that included Holding Out for a Hero, Lady in Red and the upcoming Forbidden Games.
If you’ve read this book and loved it, please share it with a friend (makes a great holiday gift). And don’t forget to enter my new contest to win an autographed copy plus an iTunes gift card.
No, not one of my novels but my baby offspring. She’s the one in the front row in the hat. She and her brother (who, incidentally, has sported a mohawk every summer for the last three years) go to this church to listen to underground or alternative bands. Good clean fun. Most of the kids I know who go are in Catholic school, driven by or picked up by parents (often me or my husband).
To the neighborhood I say, lighten up. They may be loud and dressed in a way your generation deems inappropriate, but at least the pack of teenagers on the street isn’t hitting you over the head or thiefing your purse. Not that night, anyway.
Actually I’m really communing with my muse on deadline. So if you don’t hear from me for a couple of days, you know what I’m doing. Hope you’re enjoying whatever you’re up to.
I meant to post yesterday on the historic day, but I got sidetracked by a visit from a family friend. Friday was 8/8/08, a very special day. Like 6/6/06 and 7/7/07 the past couple of years, any date with three of the same number is considered important. Historically, three has been the number for perfection. Eights are particularly spiritual. Place an eight on its side and it becomes an infinity symbol.
Today, or on any other day, you can use the power of eight (infinity) to clear your energy and rejuvenate yourself. Make a quiet place for yourself where you will not be disturbed. Sit upright but in a comfortable position. Breath deeply from your belly until you begin to relax. Imagine a white light glowing at your base (red) chakra (see chart below for chakra locations and colors). See that light begin to glow red. From that center imagine a ribbon of light flowing toward the front of your body, around your side and into your back. The ribbon flows around your other side, making a figure eight. Let the ribbon flow a few times, growing brighter and more intensely red each time. As you visualize this imagine that your most basic concerns (money, survival issues, fear) are released into the light and burned away. When you feel moved to, disconnect the ribbon and let the light return to the chakra.
Repeat this with the six remaining major chakras as follows:
sacral (orange)–creativity, sexuality
solar plexus (yellow)–power, ego
heart (green)–love, caring
throat (blue)–communication
brow (indigo)–imagination, visualization
crown (indigo)-spirituality, enlightenment
After you have cleared each chakra, take a few more cleansing breaths then open our eyes when you are ready.
This is a much simplified version of the Infinite Spectrum meditation created by Laurelle Shanti Gaia. Ironically, or maybe not, you are supposed to do this meditation daily for eight weeks to completely clear the chakras.
For a fun chakra test, go here.
Romance writers are familiar with the concept of the TSTL (too stupid to live) heroine. You know her. She’s the one who rushes into the fray with only a can opener and a bottle of Gatorade. She hasn’t a clue and therefore the hero or some other character must continually rescue her from herself and other dangers.
Most readers are not too fond of the TSTL heroine unless she manages to redeem herself (or she’s Stephanie Plum–sorry, I couldn’t help myself), but since they’re only fictional folk, there’s not too much damage done, except to the psyches of the young girls who admire them.
But I was tooling around the blogosphere today and I happened on an article at the Women in Crime site talking about gullible real-life women who risk much to be with men who mistreat or kill them. Case in point: Sandra Boss and her daughter who was duped by a supposed Rockefeller, a man with no social security card, no job or history of having one, no real family. How the hell did this guy fool a supposedly smart woman duped into sharing their lives and their fortunes with reprobate men.
A big part of the equation is that these men don’t want you to know. They go to great lengths to preserve their con. This is their whole life and when it starts to unravel, they usually do one of two things–kill to cover their tracks or disappear. Luckily for little Reigh Rockefeller (now Boss) her dad chose the latter route even if he took her with him.
Conventional wisdom would suggest that there is something lacking in these women that these men pick up on and exploit. I would agree with that. When you consider that many of these type of love stories begin with the same formula: a whirlwind courtship followed by a quick marriage. Then the woman finds herself separated either emotionally or physically from her family and friends. It’s the same way many abusers and other predators behave: separate the weak one from the herd.
Another part of the equation is the pervasive sentiment that we women are still not complete without a man. We spout crazy statistics like we are more likely to get hit by lightning than to find that man after a certain age. Like a demented game of muscial chairs women are afraid to be the one left without a place to call their own. So, many close their eyes to signals anyone else would see. They don’t want to admit, until perhaps too late, that their (possibly) one shot at love isn’t who or what they claim to be.
But I think it’s also true that some folks take the fantasy of the romance novel and the movie theatre too literally. Some guy sweeps into their life and rather than being suspicious about why some man with millions wants ordinary ol’ you, you swoon. It’s not like Cinderella stories never happen, but more than likely the heroine ends up in divorce court trying to salvage some bit of her life, in a shallow grave–or, perhaps, my next novel. We’ll have to wait and see.
I’m not going to be able to post tomorrow, so I’m posting a little funny now. Enjoy the laugh and your weekend!
A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies. Suddenly, at 3 o’clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside. The woman, sort of bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man ‘Holy crap, that must be my husband!’
The guy quickly jumped out of the bed. Scared and naked he jumped out the window like a crazy man. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and then started to run as fast as he could to his car.
A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, ‘I AM your husband.!’
The woman yelled back, ‘Yeah, then why were you running ?’
And that folks…………is how the fight started.
I haven’t made it any secret that I want Obama to win in November. At first I was for Hilary until she and Bill got on my nerves, but she’s out of the race so watcha gonna do? Now I’m thinking McCain should do now what Hilary should have done before she was forced out and Jesse Jackson should have done before his unfortunate, sour grapes comments–get the hell out of Obama’s way.
Now McCain is likening Obama to such political luminaries as Britney Spears and Paris Hilton, calling Obama the biggest celebrity in the world. Is that all you’ve got McCain? Obama isn’t qualified to run the country because . . . people like him? Whoa! Ride him out of town on a rail for that.
I’m sure you can find video of that commercial all over the web. Here’s another bit of video that is just plain sad. I also admit most of it is taken out of context, but it’s still pitiful.
McCain is reminding me more and more of some old curmudgeon crabby because his lap rug is out of place. So my message to McCain–quit grousing grandpa. Go on and take your nap now. You’ll feel better later.
Queen Elizbeth’s just sold at auction for $9,000. The undies, of the crotchless variety are two separate legs held together by a drawstring. Naughty, naughty, but I doubt the style will ever come back into vogue at Victoria’s Secret.
