Strickly Speaking

Yoiks, and Away!

2012-01-27T09:41:00.006-05:00

I've taken a day off so I can try to finish my wip (work in progress). So of course I'm procrastinating. After I finish checking Facebook and all the news sites, then Facebook again and maybe they've updated the news... I can sit here and stare beyond my computer, to the strip of cork and thumbtacked material that runs around my home office.

Behind the computer I have posted the Best of the Best writing advice I've latched onto over the years. Okay, it's just the Best of the Best that I remembered to write down or print out. Most, but not all, concerns writing. So here are some bits of wisdom for your perusal:

(From Elements of Fiction Writing: Scene & Structure, by Jack M. Bickham.) The elements of a scene: Goal, Conflict, Disaster. The elements of a sequel: Reaction (emotion), Dilemma (thought), Decision, in that order.

A long, color-coded listing of how to mark up one's manuscript using the EDITS system. This is from Margie Lawson. She teaches this intense system on how to check your manuscript, and it's pretty darned eye-opening. There's a workshop on it alone, but I ran into it when I took her "Empowering Characters' Emotions" workshop.

A sheet of paper that says:
CHARACTER
CHARACTER
CHARACTER
I'm a plotter at heart and it took me a LONG time to get it through my head that character is the heart of a great book, not plot.

How do they FEEL about that?
Emotion is key to showing character. Otherwise you end up with "characters" like Wonder Woman [see blog below], who have no emotional reaction to anything. They are cardboard cutouts.

What's the story about?
After you finish your first draft, sit back and ask yourself: what's the story really about? Sure, these folks go to the moon and shoot the alien zombie invaders, but isn't it really a story about the importance of family? How can I emphasize that? Which leads to...

As with so many things, YOU HAVE TO EXAGGERATE.
This is not real life; this is drama. In drama there's a purpose to everything. There's a theme. Bring it out. Make your characters and their situation high contrast so that it imprints on your readers' minds and embues the book's theme with more meaning and vitality.

A long quote from Jennifer Crusie, one of my favorite authors:
"It's not that they're [hero and heroine in a romance novel] opposites and hate each other, it's that they're different enough to challenge each other's world views, and because of that, their attraction to each other becomes a demonstration of their characters. Or to put it another way: interesting characters like people who challenge them and make them grow, not people who reinforce them as they are and help them stagnate.

"But even more important is the other half of the key to this dynamic: the opposite character traits give the romance crackle, but they're only skin deep. When you reach the bones of the characters—the stuff that keeps them upright and moving through the story—you find that the lovers are actually two of a kind.

"Your lovers spark because they're opposites on the surface, but they love because they're twin souls at heart. Peel back the surface and find where they connect, and your reader will believe your romance really is forever."

Let's see... Here's a chart from the Plot Doctor, aka Carolyn Greene, who might still teach her method here and there, but I can't find her on the Web.

This is a note from Virginia Kantra, who should know a little something about writing:
"...I have a little mantra:
"If she can think it, she can say it.
"It's better if she says it to the hero.
"It's best if they fight about it."

WHY SHOULD I CARE?
What is it about this situation/character that draws me in? Your primary goal in writing is to get your reader deeply within your story and keep them there. If they care about what's going on, they'll remain.

STORY
is more important than
PROCESS
Oh, how I love showing process! Such a bad habit.

An IDEA
+
EMOTION
=
something readers can relate to
It's all about keeping them in the story.

And some words of general wisdom and encouragement:

From Calvin Coolidge:
"Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

"Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."

From Marianne Williamson:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

Whew. I feel like going back to writing now. But first I want to know:

What's on your wall? What do you keep around yourself to keep you on track and motivate you?

The Illusory Wonder Woman

2012-01-03T07:52:00.010-05:00

(i.e., Spangles Don’t Make the Wonder)

In recent years DC’s sales continued to fall and according to many articles I read, the Time-Warner people gave them an ultimatum: improve sales or else. So Dan DiDio and his buddies came up with yet another new, company-wide PR event: the New 52. (Referring to how many titles they were coming out with, and trying to play off the company-wide “52” event of a few years back.) This began in September of 2011.

“Not a reboot!” they kept telling us. “This is a relaunch!” Well, it is indeed a reboot of many titles, but some titles aren’t being affected. Someone called it the “Nottaboot,” which is as good a name as any.

What I’m concerned with, of course, is the fate of Wonder Woman. Volume 3 of Wonder Woman was an unheralded new era for WW, like post-Crisis was different from the Bronze Age, etc. After an exciting and promising re-start, the Gail Simone run within it had plunged downhill badly.

I managed to coordinate a “bring back the original numbering” campaign that actually succeeded—but didn’t succeed in getting Dan DiDio to give our favorite Amazon any respect. Instead, as the book reverted to original numbering with #600’s monumental issue, the end of the book also sent Diana off into the much-anticipated “Odyssey” storyline, to be written by none other than J. Michael Straczynski.

Ever since, I’ve been trying to find Wonder Woman, but she’s completely disappeared.

JMS also took over Superman and sent him on his Stroll Around the US storyline, something that was derided by a majority of reviewers, at least that I saw. However, the sales figures for JMS’ Superman: Earth One were coming in, and it was decided that he needed to create a $equel.

Thus JMS abruptly dropped both Superman and Wonder Woman—which actually turned out for the best in Wondie’s case, as the brightness of the dialogue noticeably improved under the pen of Phil Hester.

The “Odyssey” story was some kind of parallel universe/imaginary story/setup for a new mythos kind of thing in which Something Had Changed Diana’s Timeline and now Diana was shown to be a spoiled, reckless princess of the Amazons, only now brought up (albeit in isolation) in the modern world. Of course this made her completely relatable to modern audience, something she had never been before.

Oh dear, is my sarcasm showing?

The story was “only” supposed to last 12 issues, but as the New 52 approached (as they must have known from the start that it would), it was stretched to 14. An interminable story became sheer agony. Once again Diana acted without thinking. Once again, the Amazons around her were slaughtered because of her actions. Once again we saw how self-centered she was, even as her friends died around her. But even the gods bowed before her, announcing that she was their messiah who would set things right. We were told that the “other,” previous version of Wonder Woman was completely inferior to this one, all hail the new.

And that was the reason they had created her: to be relatable, to be better. She was neither. Whenever TPTB say that WW needs to be relatable, I get the distinct impression that they mean she needs to grow a penis. It can be a blue penis, a mutant penis, a fishy penis, a metal penis—just so it’s there.

Well, at least they got a lot of publicity because this version had the audacity to wear pants.

But as Wonder Woman fans all know, even the worst of stories has to end sometime. New 52 came upon us and without internal explanation, many of the characters of the DCU were rebooted or at least significantly changed.

DC promised that this time she’d REALLY be relatable. No, really and truly. With sugar on it. And they were going to go back to her roots, the essence of what made Wonder Woman, Wonder Woman.

Admitting that he didn’t do much research on Wondie, the new writer, Brian Azzarello, declared that the essence of Wonder Woman was mythology because of its richness of source. Now, granted that mythology IS a rich source of creative material, it is not the essence of Wonder Woman.

She is Empowerment. More exactly: Positive Empowerment. Because of her, the world and its people are made better.

Azz also declared that WW would now be a horror book. The DCnU carries a substantial amount of horror in its line. DC as a company has been getting darker and darker since... well, noticeably since DiDio came on board. Now it seems DC wants to be the new EC Comics (and has forgotten the fallout from that).

Besides, Wonder Woman is not a horror character.

She may flirt with horror stories on occasion, but she does not stall out in that genre, preferring to surface in more hopeful and enlightening climes for the majority of her adventures.

Wonder Woman is a star because her readers love her and are inspired by her, not because she’s more badass than the badasses around her.

So far we’ve seen four issues of this new “Wonder Woman,” and have yet to catch any kind of clear (positive) glimpse as to who she might be. She doesn’t seem to be that important to the ambiance or story. She is a skilled fighter who works with ancient weapons (like Hawkman or Xena), and we’ve had one scene in which she’s demonstrated super-breath (like Superman).

But mostly we’ve seen her like Xena, Warrior Princess, with an unsmiling version of Marvel’s Hercules thrown in. That’s why I have to call this character

She is certainly not Wonder Woman.

I have nothing against Xena, but I never cared for her. Her stories never required much thought to watch. In fact the less you thought, the better they probably were. And the costume design of the show was strictly from hunger. (Even though Xena stole her outfit from Diana via a leather tailor.)

The new book is also oddly angled. First, the gods all walk around like normal folks (like they did on Xena and the TV version of Hercules). The DCU already has plenty of gods, but they wear spandex and capes. To not differentiate between gods and capes to me is a serious misstep. In a world where capes are the everyday, gods should be special.

The men gods are all clothed. The women gods are not so much. There has been an effort made to modernize and badass-erize the gods, except for Hera, who is kept in the misogynistic Second Millennium BCE. She longs for love and whines when, again and again, she is betrayed by her husband. Childlike, she lashes at those whom she perceives as sinning against her—except the true villain.

This from the goddess of marriage. Heck, she’s the goddess of women, and women are an important part of the Wondie mythos. If we care to research a bit, Hera was one of the original Earth Goddesses, usurped when non-Goddess-worshippers invaded the area and took over by having their head god honcho wed the local head honchess god, and keep her “in her place.”

Is this kind of depiction really what an edgy, 21st Century DC Comics wants to utilize? Why modernize all the gods EXCEPT Hera?

Apollo (clothed), the god of the sun itself, is a being of darkness. (???) He creates oracles out of three innocent women and then murders them when they’ve done the temporary job he wanted, even though they never sinned against him. Wha?

Hermes (clothed) is in his old position as Jokester Friend to the Amazons/Mankind.

Strife (slightly dressed in teasing strips of cloth; given a rather androgynous look) is an evil, conniving bitch. Good for her.

Hera we’ve already discussed, but she’s naked under a loose cloak of feathers, which hangs open on her. She’s already had one extended “I’m changing my clothing” scene that teases us with nudity and has her winding up in some kind of harem outfit. (Some of the Amazons also like the harem look.)

Zeus is presented naked, but he’s in the act of seduction.

Ares is an old geezer, being set up for further use. He wears clothes.

That’s an awful lot of gods for the book. Was it intended be be called The Olympians (with “Wonder Woman”)? The Percy Jackson fans might be interested in that.

We have the “innocent civilian” introduced who is Zola. For a long time she runs around in just a tank top, open shirt, and seamless panties. Apparently she is a “modern woman,” you know, “sexually liberated,” out for quick sexual thrills, who can’t even recall that she slept with Zeus.

Zeus, king of the gods. Whose stories of conquest were always memorable. Whom Hippolyta describes dazzlingly as “more than a man... a god... THE god.” But Zola can’t pick him out of a crowd of lovers.

When told by Hermes that she is pregnant, Zola says, “Oh, sh--“ That seems to be her only reaction. She, a “free spirit,” is not seen wondering how this will affect her life, if she will keep the baby, if she will raise it, how she will raise it, or even if she can get a home pregnancy kit to find out if any of this is actually true. Wouldn’t one think she was on some kind of birth control to lead the life she loved, or is she just stupid? Or is she just a cardboard character, not thinking in any way like a woman would?

Also, this is another instance of the lack of positive emotion in the book. Sex is sex, with no real relationship or commitment desired except by the old-fashioned ball-and-chain, Hera. It seems a very macho mindset.

Can we get to Diana? We are introduced to her as she sleeps. Naked, of course. Not only naked, but with the sheets drawn up to her hips so we not only have a good look at her her shoulders and back but her legs as well. She also gets an extensive “getting dressed” scene.

Y’know, I didn’t notice any preponderance of “getting dressed” scenes in any of the comics concerning male heroes that I read.

Once we get through the gore of Hera butchering a horse to create two centaurs (not one of the classical techniques to make centaurs. Guess those weren’t bloody enough), Diana arrives on scene to head-butt the one and slice the other’s arm off with her sword. Though she has the lasso at her side, she doesn’t use it—even though lassos and horses go so naturally together.

When we arrive on Paradise Island, we discover that Diana has led a loser’s life there, where no one liked her except her mother and perhaps Dessa (a renamed Philippus?). She’d been mocked as “Clay” as a child because of her clay origin.

Of course the Amazons as a group are quite detestable. They complain about the “putrid musk” of males and necessity of castration, as well as voice their disapproval of all things Diana.

We get a nice action sequence as Diana takes on the loudest of her detractors. The scene doesn’t require any emotion from Diana, which is a good thing since she seems incapable of feeling anything besides despair over being such a loser.

Empowerment. Remember that.

After a (yawn) massacre of Amazons by Strife, Diana and her group return to the outer world, where they visit a club. Zola has now found some short-shorts to add to her outfit, and tells Hermes that Diana’s having a great time, sharing in her community.

Look at that expression of bliss! Diana says, “It did feel liberating to get lost for a while.” Such deep emotion!

To cover such a feminine admission, Diana grinds a broken wine glass into Strife’s hand. (And it hurts the goddess. No, really.)

So Diana is delegated the “I don’t belong” loser role. Joy.

Let’s see. We also get a completely new origin story for Diana, something the creators gloated about. Clueless. Anyway, we see that Hippolyta met up with Zeus, knowing that he was husband to her goddess and to be with him would be the ultimate betrayal (who cares? Immediate gratification is the only goal in the modern world), and is swept off her feet by him as they fight each other. (How macho.) We get 12 panels of Diana’s conception just for shock value. (Perhaps it’s to offset the cliché of the situation. Bad enough when they linked Zeus to Cassie.)

Of course, “real” heroes like Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, and Flash don’t need such extensive conception scenes. (Probably because their creators would like us to forget that they had mothers.) But Wonder Woman does.

It is interesting that when the nu DC couldn’t make Wonder Woman a man, they then inserted a giant, lightning-spewing mythic penis into her origin. “Oh, but everyone has a father,” I’ve heard the argument given. Yet I can think of several male comics characters who don’t have mothers. And none of them has ever been called an icon.

Wonder Woman was an Amazon because that was one of the extremely few venues from which an emancipated female could have emerged in the 1940s and been respected immediately for herself. The addition of the Galatea-like birth elevated Diana’s standing. She was one of very few female characters in comics, made to be a dominant hero. Now she cast off all male chains, both genetic and cultural, to stand up as a symbol of the Possibilities of Womankind. She didn’t have to fight through male prejudice and conditioning to get where she was; she arrived on scene as Uncompromised Woman.

From there she had to deal with a male-centric world, and that was intriguing in itself.

DC says, “Oh, but she should have a father. Everyone has a father.” DC, a reminder: you are creating MYTHS here. Modern-day legends on interstellar scales. A woman without a father falls right into that definition. Don’t make your leading lady ordinary by giving her a father.

Isn’t it already demeaning that you’ve taken away her princess-ly glamour and her pride and accomplishment of being Amazon Champion? Isn’t it bad enough that you’ve stripped the ingrained love from her life, the love that used to shine from her attitude as she helped the world?

Once again, we come back to how false love is, how women look for it to find it’s really a lie. When Hera confronts Hippolyta, for some ungoddessly reason Hera’s convinced that Zeus loves Hippy, which is why she cannot forgive, no matter how abjectly Hippolyta apologizes. (As if. I mean. And Hippy should know that EVERY TIME a god lay with a female, a child resulted. EVERY TIME. My college myth teacher knew that, so Hippy should as well. And Hippy shouldn’t be stupid.)

But I get the impression that women are just a tad dumber than the men in this book, except for Strife, who’s very mannish anyway.

Speaking of familial love, we discover that adopted kids aren’t as loved as blood-related kids. That’s what Diana has believed her entire life. What kind of relationship must she have had with her mother to make her think this?

Gore. Depression. Anti-love. Ain’t those just the best Wonder themes?

Wait, Diana’s over in Justice League, in a story that happens 5 years before the stories the rest of the DCU are experiencing. In this we learn from comments about Diana:

“Just don’t provoke her.” She slit an armed kidnapper’s throat in front of the kids he was holding. She was raised to fight. “She’s skewering people!” “She swings that sword with a smile.” “Diana’s always looking for a fight!”

Diana says that fighting the darkness of the Outer World is what she’s here for. She also relates that all her life she was treated like a child. She’s done with people telling her what to do.

Within the pages of WW in her new outfit—which was supposed to have pants until fans got that plan revoked, at least for a while—Diana comes across as barrel-chested, thunder-thighed, and tiny-headed. Like the others in her book, her limbs are stretched to uncomfortable lengths. Her costume no longer contains the vibrant gold elements, and she wears (in JLA) a silly headband instead of tiara, plus a goofy neckband like you’d see on someone dressed up as a prostitute at Halloween. She carries a sword, but in none of the books I’ve seen so far (and I’m waiting until they go down in price to buy the latest ones), does she carry a scabbard. In one story she didn’t have a way to sheath the sword and so had to use it as an extended hand in dealing with a child.

Classy.

Again and again I get the impression in this book that in order to be strong, a woman has to surrender her femininity. In order to be strong, a woman has to go all the way over: past masculinity to machismo.

I remember a Wonder Woman whose feminine aspects made her memorable. Who gloried in being a woman, and who was able to balance her yin and yang aspects while respecting both sides of herself.

Here’s a piece of wisdom I picked up from a number of writing workshops about what to remember when creating characters and situations. I keep it posted front and center on my office wall:

All in all, there are no characters in this book to care about or like, unless one looks at the uber-sarcastic version of Hermes. Gore and self-loathing drip from each page. Why should I care about any of 'em?

Just because a woman wears some spangles doesn't mean she's Wonder Woman.

DC has done the unimaginable: they have stripped Wonder Woman completely of her self-respect.

It will take a LOT to save this mess. Probably the easiest fix is to reboot—which DC will likely be doing within five years.

In the meantime, I’ll still be searching for Wonder Woman.

---
Before I go, let me point out that I’ve just reissued my first book, a superhero romance, Touch of Danger. It’s available for free from Smashwords in all e-formats, and is 99¢ from Amazon until they figure out that Smashwords is giving it away, in which case it’ll probably be free. As soon as I get to check my sample copy, you’ll be able to buy the print version from Amazon (and other places) for a little over $10.00. Check my website for a contest concerning reviews!

As Gawd is Mah Witness...

2011-11-22T16:20:00.009-05:00

...Ah'll Nevah Hoahd Agin!

I thought I had stuff. And yes, I have serious plans to sort through it all and make it a manageable mess. But this past weekend I traveled to the mountains of NC along with my sister, bro-in-law and nephew, to pack and move my parents.

You see, in early October my father once again came down with pneumonia, only this time it was Really Serious. (Perhaps with extra added stroke. I've never gotten anyone to say yea or nay about that.) He wound up in a horrible rehab facility for about a month (where he unfortunately had direct access to a phone, which he used to call the cops and others whenever he had too much time to imagine my mother being lost or in similar trouble). He finally came home—we breathed a sigh of relief—and a few days later my mother tripped on the rug, breaking her tailbone and ultimately winding up in a very nice rehab place where we could rarely get hold of her or vice versa.

This has taught us about the tremendous value of disability insurance, home health care, and places like Home Helpers, reputable companies that can send people out to do laundry, get groceries, clean, provide chauffeur services, etc etc. But that wouldn't be enough.

My parents were in their second retirement community. They'd chosen this one because my dad had been concerned that my mother had Alzheimer's (we don't think he's been tested, but it's pretty obvious he has serious mental issues of his own), and the new place not only had independent living, but an assisted living complex to be used when needed. Unfortunately, that place has a long waiting line and my parents needed assisted living NOW.

It didn't help that they're a minimum of 5 hours from us. (I think my sister is 8 hours away.) Though my dad is now (sometimes) saying that we've forced this decision on them, he was the one who convinced my mom that they needed to move out near my sister, an area they lived in for a few years in the 90s. That way they'd get to see her and her family, including M&D's great-grandkids.

We gave their retirement community immediate notice (90 days required! So they'll lose a bucket of bucks on the deal) and decided on the weekend before Thanksgiving to move 'em out. Since both M&D have zero energy, we told them they could sit and point at what went in which box. Dad didn't even have the wherewithal to do that, and we didn't spring Mom from her clinic until everything had been boxed up.

We lucked out visiting the rehab place one night. Dad was confused about his meds. Did he need oxygen? He didn't have any at the house. What about Mom? Sunday night at about 8:30 we were leaving when a dignified gentleman walked past us. My sister and I looked at each other. Could that be Dr. Abs, Mom & Dad's doctor? At this time of night? On a weekend? We turned around and chased him down. Sure enough it was him, come to check on Mom. He sat down with us and clarified a bunch of stuff, including arranging a final blood-oxygen check for my father. Whew! On Monday we were able to run around town and get the final medical crap we needed to bring along.

Dad didn't want to come inside to confer with him. Instead he pouted outside in the SUV and complained that it was too cold (he had the key and could turn on the heater) and that we'd taken too much time with Dr. Abs. The day we took Mom home he sat in the hallway and bellowed, "Come on! Come on!" as Mom's roomie for 3 weeks said a sweet goodbye to her. My sister elbowed Dad in the back and eventually he shut up for a while. He had to hit the restroom on the way out and as soon as the door closed, Mom turned to my sister and said of the coming ride to Tennessee, "It's going to be a long trip."

Dad has never been the most pleasant of people, but nowadays... Let's just say that while I was ferrying him around last Friday, I stopped the car twice and told him to get out. Each threat calmed him down for a few minutes. My nephew did the same thing (just once though). It didn't help that Dad kept giving us incorrect driving directions—and then got furious when we finally stopped listening to him and went by the directions we were pretty sure of.

But GOOD LORD!!!! The CRAP they had! If only the cleaning supplies: 10,000 cans of Comet cleanser, acres of laundry detergent... Books they hadn't looked at in 50 years, paperwork from the Sixties on up, furniture enough to fill a house twice the size, and all of Dad's clothing. (He's a real clothes horse.)

The transition place they'll be moving to is one room, I think. From there they'll be able to look around to see what will suit them and will likely wind up at a one-bedroom place with living room, bathroom, and maybe a kitchenette.

My bro-in-law rented a really good-sized rental truck, figuring that there'd be enough for about 2/3 of it. Need I say: every square inch was filled, plus a very large pickup and SUV. We left a few pieces of furniture and a small room's worth of cleaning supplies behind.

That smell that permeated the house was the rotten food in the fridge. At first when we were looking at all the food in the pantry, freezers, fridge, cabinets, garage, etc., we called a charity place who said they could pick it up Monday if we gave them another call. My sister suggested that my nephew might like to take some of the canned goods back home. I counseled: Check the expiration dates. (I've been burned before at M&D's.) Sure enough , the first cabinet he ran into was filled with items that had expired circa 2005.

My dad thinks expiration dates are marketing gimmicks that don't mean anything.

So the food went into the trash or stayed where it is. M&D still had a month and a half left on their lease, which includes maid service. We're letting them clean the joint up.

But after all the strained backs, aching knees and shoulders, blistered feet & etc, the lesson I took away with me was:

Having others pack your stuff can be intensely personal and embarrassing. Having someone else pack decades worth of ABSOLUTE CRAP that you've hoarded for whatever reason: because you thought you'd collect something, or because you just didn't get around to tossing it into the dump, is infinitely worse.

Therefore, as soon as the carpenter and painters clear out from the front third of MY house, which is being remodeled (eta on Phase 1: Dec 2!!!!), this reformed hoarder is going to go into Advanced Decluttering Mode. No, I'm not going to attempt a four-day marathon or hire people to help me. I figure three or four months should do a great job of clearing out the detritus, leaving a space that can be organized and clean in order to function better as studio, office, etc.

Of course none of YOU out there reading this have any kind of mess in your place. No collections getting out of hand, no places that you fear to tread because something might fall on you. Or do you?

Art of the Carolinas 2011

2011-11-13T19:54:00.008-05:00

Many of you know that one of the highlights of my year is to attend Art of the Carolinas in Raleigh. I've learned to get a hotel room so as to avoid driving on I-40 after dark (and usually at rush hour), and to have an excuse to get room service for breakfast.

I stumbled onto AotC in its very first year when I was driving aimlessly through Durham because I was bored one weekend. Now, I NEVER drive aimlessly. This was a first for me. The radio station I was listening to was doing a remote from this event called "Art of the Carolinas," and it was being held in Research Triangle Park. Gee, that was just a few minutes away. I drove over and was astounded by the event having a workshop in which famed watercolorist Tom Lynch was teaching. (As I hadn't signed up, I couldn't get in, and so just attended the trade show.)

The next year I was prepared, and signed up for a Lynch workshop. AotC holds four days worth of 3-hour and 6-hour workshops, along with having a trade floor full of the latest and greatest art supplies, ably demonstrated by renowned arteests.

One year I think I took three solid days of workshops, 8 AM - 8 PM. I swore I'd never do that again. I value my sanity!

Having gone through a gamut of subject matter over the years, this year I decided to hit two versions of flower painting technique. I started with James Sulkowski's "Dynamic Action and Design in Floral Painting." Here was a realistic approach to the subject, with a concentration in really playing up a focal target in the picture and toning everything else down. That's my painting at the top of this blog.

I finished it in 4 1/2 hours. My brain halted after telling me, "It's done." Artistic neurons refused to fire. But class was 6 hours long. I bowed to the inevitable and snuck out. (A neat trick considering I'd lugged about a hundred pounds of supplies into class in three different bags, plus easel.) The neurons were in cahoots with my feet and back, I think. If I could have sat down for a while I might have been able to drum up some artistic energy. But certain folks (dark look their way!) confiscated the few remaining "extra" chairs for their art supplies. The nearest place to set one's butt was in the hotel lobby. Buh bye!

Out in the COLD parking lot, Dan "the Art Man" Nelson was painting one of his huge, gorgeous landscapes. I asked him why he didn't do Facebook videos (real time, start to finish) any more, and he said he was doing stuff on YouTube and I should stop by there. Here's a good start. Or try this one.

First thing the next day I took a Bob Burridge course: "Abstract Florals from Loose, Colorful Spatter." Now, you may know Bob (above) (someday I've got to read the instruction manual for my newest camera, as it began to go crazy about now) from his great newsletter, the Artsy-Fartsy News. I haven't decided whether Bob is more artist or showman, but he certainly knows how to run a lively class! He eschews the realistic look with its use of tiny, exacting brushes. He said that seeing Manet's later florals made him cry in public and change his art completely. Must remember to look those florals up! Bob says that an artist must demonstrate that they have "fire in the belly" and aren't just copying nature mechanically.

At any rate, this is one of the paintings I did in his class, utilizing the spattering/general mooshing-about of paint, followed by opaque negative painting:

Bob says that a painting is never finished. Oh, is that why I never know when it's done? He says the trick is to stop at an interesting point. This point is usually at the 90% mark. He also claims that he's going to make his huge art award (CT WC society? Somewhere up there) into a rodeo belt buckle so he can show it off to all the artists he meets and give himself more credibility. Uh huh.

Let's see. Next was Joe DiGiulio, whose classes I've also taken before (like Bob). (Joe's wife, Sharon, runs AotC. I often spotted her over the weekend. Her eyes were spinning and she looked like she was about to collapse, but things seemed to be going quite smoothly.) This time I was coming through to learn how to make series of abstracts, since everyone says you're supposed to paint in series in order to get galleries to notice you. Joe says that abstracts are made up of line, shape, color, and texture. But when you do them in a series they get a fifth quality: context.

He began his demo by pausing his brush above the canvases and saying, "I have no idea what I'm doing here." A woman in the audience quipped, "Then why are we paying you money for this?" Ah, we were off! We had terrifying fun.

And as usual when I get into an abstract class with no idea of how to begin, I turn to Wonder Woman. Here's the Wondie triptych I did:

Last but not least I got to SIT DOWN for 3 hours (my feet and back were KILLING ME!!!!!!) to attend a workshop on printing giclées. "Giclée" is a fancy French term for "ink jet print." Now, the ink is supposed to be as permanent as possible (they make great stuff these days at reasonable prices), and the paper should be archival. This particular workshop was sponsored by one paper company who had the testing results to back up their claim that they were best in the world. (Canson brand "Infinity" paper, which comes in all kinds of different types, including a watercolor paper that, after being fixed after printing, you can paint on). Noted painter Dick Ensing ran this class, and if I could suggest something, it'd be that he have a projector so everyone could see what the HECK he was doing with his Photoshop print commands. He could also stand to speak up a bit. And frankly, it didn't look to me like his monitor was color-corrected, but it might have been the angle I was looking at it.

He did color corrections a LOT differently than I do. Then again, he sells a SLEW of prints every month, so who am I to question?

One lady in the class persisted in calling giclées "zhiglays," and a gentleman said something along the lines of "zheegloiz." It's "zhee-klayz." And "Arches" paper is "arsh," as long as we're correcting everyone's French accent. We all kept saying, "arrrrrsh" and getting a big kick because it was late and we were getting silly.

Anyway, that Epson printer moves close to the top of my "must buy" list. Just as soon as the Brad Pitt/packing supply/comic book/frame storage guest room gets cleaned out, I'll have a nice space for it.

So if you're an artist and want to learn more from quality teachers (there were gawd-awful ones at AotC as well, but over the years I've learned who is who), check around to see if you don't have an event like AotC in your area. If not, come to NC next year two weeks before Thanksgiving and join the crowd! Give me a buzz and we'll go next door to Bahama Breeze for dinner one night (drool!) and compare notes.

Tina Donahue: Double the Pleasure…

2011-10-13T07:37:00.004-04:00

IT'S A CONTEST!!!!

Sweep all that trash around you into the nearest closet, close the door (if you can) and double-check your mirror; today we have a guest! Please welcome award-winning author Tina Donahue. Now—turn up the heat!
—Carol Strick
_______________________________________

Not certain whether you’re in the mood for a steamy contemporary or a smoking hot paranormal? Well, I have the solution for you.

Much to my surprise, two of my erotic romances—contracted with different publishers—are both coming out this month! This is a first for me, and I’m celebrating by offering a contest. More on that later.

These two releases couldn’t be more different. One is an erotic contemporary ménage – my first ménage, in fact. Wow, was it fun to write. My other release is an erotic paranormal, which is the second in my Outlawed Realm Series (yet another first, me writing a series). Both have lusty sex scenes and Alpha heroes to die for. The kind of guys I’d like to have in my bed. Here’s the cover art, blurb and buy link (with excerpt) for each. ☺

SiNN—contemporary erotic romance (ménage) from Ellora’s cave—releasing October 14

She’s every man’s carnal fantasy…and the target of one’s revenge

At a Phoenix gentleman’s club, Lea dances as SiNN, her body bared and vulnerable to her male partner, her features hidden behind a feathered mask. To the men watching, she’s a sensual enigma, submissive and seductive with no face, name or history. Not even Lea knows her real origins.

A man from the past does and wants her dead.

Not on the watch of U.S. Marshals Jake Gabriel and Toby Quinn. Commanding and decisive, Jake not only wants Lea’s safety but to have her naked and yielding beneath him. To Toby, she’s all he should resist but cannot.

Protected by them at a secluded estate, Lea’s drawn to their potent masculinity and the raw male lust in their eyes. Inviting desire and an emotional connection, she submits to both at once, surrendering to their most shameless hunger along with her own wanton needs.

All while a killer edges closer…

Buy link (with excerpt)
_______________________________________

UNENDING DESIRE—erotic paranormal romance from Samhain—coming October 18

His hunger for one woman will make him a traitor to his world…

Outlawed Realm, Book 1

From a portal in his lab on E2, one of the five dimensions of Earth, quantum physicist Nikoli Zorr gazes on everything forbidden to him. Passion. Desire. The exquisite pleasure of running his hands over the lush curves of a young woman he should have stopped watching weeks ago.

His duty is to close the portals that keep the monsters out of E2—and never interfere with the inevitable fate of those on the other side. Yet he can’t bring himself to abandon the woman who has captured his soul.

Psychologist Regina Page is trying to keep her mind on her client, and off the mysterious, unbearable sexual cravings that consume her when she’s alone in her bedroom. The next moment she’s attacked by vampires, then swept into another realm by a stranger whose touch awakens that same raw desire. Whose eyes are already filled with farewell.

Yet beneath their undeniable carnal lust, something else stirs. The beginnings of illicit love. The unexpected need to protect him. Even if it means risking body, blood and soul to defeat the merciless horde…for a future that was never meant to be.

Product Warnings

Contains a repressed scientist who likes to look, and the woman who delights in unleashing his inner caveman. And sex hot enough to burn a hole in all three dimensions…and maybe create a whole new one.

Buy Link (with excerpt)
_______________________________________

Tina Donahue is an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Ellora’s Cave, Samhain Publishing and Kensington. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work; she has reached finals and/or placed in numerous RWA–sponsored contests. Three of her erotic novels were named finalists in the 2011 EPIC competition. Sensual Stranger, her erotic romance, was chosen Book of the Year 2010 (erotic category) at the French review site, Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz Love Loves Books was created specifically for her erotic romance Lush Velvet Nights; and Deep, Dark, Delicious (erotic romance) recently received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition (2011). She was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company.

Email: tina@tinadonahue.com
Website/blog: www.tinadonahue.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/tinadonahue
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000458023097

*** CONTEST ***

To celebrate the upcoming release of SiNN and Unending Desire, I’m offering a contest. One lucky commenter on this blog will have her choice of one of my following ebooks**:

1. Adored—RWA award-winning; EPIC 2011 Finalist; 4 Stars RT
2. Deep, Dark, Delicious—EPIC 2011 Finalist; Holt Medallion Award of Merit
3. Lush Velvet Nights—EPIC 2011 Finalist; Golden Nib Award
4. In His Arms—SIX 5 Star Reviews; 4 Stars RT
5. Sensual Stranger—2010 Book of the Year (erotic); 4 Stars RT
6. The Yearning—Top Ten Bestseller
7. Take Me Away—#1 Pick, Miz Love Loves Books

** Winner chosen at random. Winner chosen October 15.

Sand in my shoes (and ears) (and camera)

2011-10-11T16:30:00.011-04:00

Cross Wilmington, NC off my list of possible retirement spots. The place is pretty great, but the shore ain't got no rocks.

Imho, a fabulous shoreline includes rocks and maybe some cliffs outlining a bay. Wilmington? One tour guide said that the only rocks in the city have come from ships' ballasts that were dumped in the Cape Fear River and retrieved via lots of mule labor.

I told myself I was going out to Wrightsville Beach for a few days just to relax. I managed that but I also managed to take about 275 photos, hoping to get the basis for a number of paintings. The forecast looked semi-okay, with sun the first day, partially cloudy (10% chance of rain) the second, and storms starting somewhere around late morning of the third day, when I'd be heading back home. I found myself gathering the hood of my raincoat closer as I marched through that drippy "10%" most of day #2. As I was packing the car to go home, I had to hang on to it in fear of being blown away by what wasn't quite a tropical depression passing through.

I was looking for quaint fishing boats lolling about, moored picturesquely against an ancient dock. Didn't see any of those, though I saw a lot of modern white yachts hiked up above the waterline in various marinas.

Still, I got lots of textural stuff that looks great on film (and hopefully, canvas). I want to do a series of abstracted sea foam patterns. That should look good on America's living room walls! I also got some lovely wave shots, as the surf crashed HARD even before the storm appeared. My hotel, the Blockade Runner, was located about a mile from the famous Johnny Mercer Pier. The morning news said that usually the surf breaks at the end of the pier. Yesterday it was breaking halfway up and by this morning's high tide, it was breaking almost at the land end!

This is for Mart, whose Facebook shots are always at a Batman-esque angle. Must be something about the gravity over there in Scotland...

Halfway down to the pier I determined that that "krkk, krsh" sound I could faintly hear above the roaring surf and wind was my camera lens extending. Sand must have gotten into it. The next day, shooting pictures in the rain, the sound went away. Whew!

The day before I left for vacation, our writers' group had had an all-day workshop, followed by a booksigning (I sold 3 books!!!). As I chowed down afterward on a little more Mexican than I usually order at dinner, I excused myself by saying it was okay; I'd walk ten miles the next day. I didn't know I wasn't lying!!!

Well, it seemed like 10 miles. As soon as I hit the hotel I was on the beach walking and taking pictures. I walked down to the pier (which was actually one mile. One mile times deep, soft sand equals... what?) By the time I got back to the hotel I ditched plans to walk to the Oceanic. That's the Oceanic in the picture below. (Taken from my hotel.) Look where the clouds seem to be pointing, that distant gray building on a pier you probably can't see. That's the Oceanic. It's a block from where highway 74 (or was it 76?) comes to an abrupt halt behind some houses. Deeeeelicious food! Lovely wait-staff. I had grilled salmon. The atmosphere there is fabulous, and the wrap-around windows were crusted with sea-salt but still held a beautiful view.

The days were warm, and the first one was sunny. Lots of folks on the beach. I'm happy to report that I saw dozens of fathers playing with their kids. No deadbeat dads here! One helped his son with a colorful kite. They finally got it to stay up a while, but the winds were fierce and it kept crashing.

A group of three guys in swimsuits trotted out. One threw himself face-down in the sand, and the other two took off for the surf. They were back within 5 minutes. I spotted two wannabe surfers. One actually got up on his board for a moment, but both came in quickly. There was a young woman who was lying face-down on her blanket in the sun, fully clothed. Not sure what kind of tan she was expecting.

There was no way I could come to the beach and NOT put at least a toe in the water, so that's what I did. I waded out, toe-deep, and took some great texture shots of the surf. How surprising that just the final, tiny edges of the waves as they wore themselves out, had enough force in them to make me struggle for my balance as they swept back out! If it was that bad with just the sea-foam, imagine what the actual breakers must be like!

After a night of trying to sleep on the Blockade Runner's miserable excuse for a bed, I took off for downtown and a horse-drawn tour. Our guide said that Wilmington has more pre-Civil War buildings than any other town in the US because the Yankees took Fort Fisher (over at Kure Beach, below Wrightsville and Carolina Beaches), so Wilmington didn't put up a fight.

That's Fred and Henry pulling us. Or maybe Henry and Fred. The company uses all Amish rescue horses, horses whose natural gait is too slow for farmers to use. If not for this gig, the guys would have gone to the glue factory.

Wilmington has gorgeous buildings and homes, right next to buildings you wouldn't be caught dead near at high noon. Awful juxtapositioning! I was afraid to park my car. But boy, some of those million-and-a-half-dollar homes are fabulous. Spanish moss hangs from the trees, and many flower varieties that had given up for the year in my yard were still blooming their colorful little hearts out there.

Went on a river tour and saw (among other things) the USS North Carolina, which is now a huge WWII museum. Back in 1971 when the people of NC bought it and brought it up river, they had to choose a full moon and high tide to get it into the channel. Along the way, it hit a floating restaurant, the Ark. According to our tour guide, the Ark was awarded a purple heart. Good story! I googled and discovered that the owner had a purple heart painted on the side of the repaired restaurant.

Anyway, they wanted to turn the boat around so its prow faced the city, but the ship got stuck and they said, "Oh well." Eight years later an elevator bridge was built nearby that, at its tallest, isn't tall enough to let it back through to the ocean. That boat ain't goin' anywhere now.

I had a nice lunch at downtown's Dock Street Oyster Bar, a cute place our horsey tour guide had recommended. Speaking of our guide, he was off to Charlotte the next day to die. In the past few years since Wilmington has become #3 in the US for movie work, he's become a part-time actor. This time the movie's shooting in Charlotte, and he gets to be some creepy guy who gets his throat cut. Cool.

For dinner, I went to the Fish House Grill near Wrightsville Beach. Excellent shrimp (I haven't had fried shrimp in YEARS!) and slaw. (Meh dessert.) (Excellent service!)

Another awful night (it didn't help that the blasting A/C/heater didn't do much besides make a racket), and I woke up to wind that was even more fierce than it had been the previous days. It was alternating rain and sprinkles. I had planned to have room service for breakfast, but faced with a choice of $20+ for an omelet delivered to my room or a free bfast if I went down to the restaurant, I chose the miserly route and was rewarded to find that their equipment had gone kablooey and that the chef was preparing omelets to order on a bunsen burner.

Omelets are my most favorite-est breakfast! Yum!

Went out, took some more pictures of the TEARING surf, came inside to read that SEP novel a bit more, then packed and left. It was so much easier getting out of Wilmington than finding my way in. Just follow MLK Blvd until it becomes the beginning of I-40. A mile down the road is that hilarious (but quite official) sign: "Barstow, CA—2554 miles."

So long, Wilmington! It was a great starting point for my exploration of the NC coast! Now, if someone could direct me toward some beaches that have a rocky quality to their landscape, I can start to get serious about checking out retirement possibilities.

Gimme that New-Time Romance!

2011-10-07T08:19:00.005-04:00

Last weekend I read a historical romance that one of my favorite authors had declared was one of her all-time favorites. She did give the caveat that it was an old-timey romance.

I was familiar with the author's work. Years ago when I was still a (very) graphic designer, another designer twisted my arm to get me to read HER favorite author, and I did read, I think it was three, books by same. By the time I got to the third book (a historical), I knew when Our Heroine had struggled for half a book to rescue the dear beloved Hero, who coughed as she drew his nearly-drowned self into her beautiful arms, that he'd be dead by the end of the chapter.

I was wrong. It took him a page and a half to expire.

In another book (it may have been by the same author or not; I'm trying to be vague, thank you), Our Historical Heroine is strongly urged by Government Powers to go to the Middle East and join a harem. By then Our Heroine has had about twenty kids and six husbands. (She's between hubbies at this point iIrc.) The government shill informs her that she could easily pass (naked) for a virgin of 17.

I think that was the book I threw against the wall.

Anyway, I read this historical romance book. Copyright 1988 or so, though it seemed from a decade earlier. I dunno; I didn't read any romances back then except for Wicked Loving Lies and that other one. Oh yeah, Sweet Savage Love. (Thanks, Google.) Both were full of positive-outcome rapes and bodice-ripping, and the genre hasn't yet fully recovered to the public's mind.

(Here at Adam & Eve we aren't allowed to sell anything portraying positive-outcome rapes because it is a SICK SICK SICK concept!)

Also, the heroines of that era seemed to me to be quite stupid. I don't like books with stupid protagonists.

Anyway, here was a book written a decade beyond that era, yet still we had a stupid heroine. Her only goals were... Uh... I'm thinking... She claims her only goal is to be loved, but all men adore her and she came from a close-knit, loving family, so what was her prob? Cheez.

There's no real GMC (goals, motivation, conflict) here. The heroine flits from man to man and squirts out an occasional kid at times that are convenient to her.

The prose was so purple I could paint with it. However, this also allowed me to progress at a quick pace through the rather thick tome, as I could see the purple starting and then skip down paragraphs or even pages until the narration settled down to plot again.

Reading speed was also helped in that the book was repetitive. Let me give you an example—not a quote, but an impression. We'll call Our Heroine "Bella" and Our Hero of the Moment "Steve":

Bella and Steve raced on their magnificent horses across the meadows in the lush spring sunlight. The scent of lilacs and larkspur was thick, along with the other native plants, which were [skip a few paragraphs]. They stood and watched [listing of local fauna, skip a page], who bowed as if to Bella's beauty and then trotted into the forest.

Bella's amber eyes sparkled, the flecks of pure gold in them drawing Steve's lusty attentions. He couldn't bear to be apart from her. Her ruby velvet gown, stitched with pure silk embroidery floss to give a floral motif, and with underskirt of lavender [skip a few pages] and her shoes showed off her pretty feet.

"Bella, I must have you!" Steve uttered. "Your amber eyes with their flecks of pure gold inflame me!"

Bella blushed prettily. She knew the gold flecks in her beautiful amber eyes were the second thing men noticed about her, after her magnificent breasts.

"I hate you!" she flung at Steve.

"What? Where did that come from?"

"I have no reason to hate you. In the entire book, I will suddenly accuse you of being hateful for no reason, though I fall in love with loathsome men along the way. You're a very nice man and in addition, you are gorgeous and incredibly rich. But oh, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Ah, my dearest treasure, but I will love you and your amber eyes with their flecks of pure gold, forever!"

And so on.

I'm not going to say whether this particular author is still writing or not, or whether she's still a best-selling author. All I can say is:

I love modern romance. Well, for the most part. The good stuff. (This historical stuff I was talking about was The Good Stuff in the Seventies and Eighties.)

Modern romance contains solid plots. People in them have solid goals. These goals will almost always involve the characters having to rip themselves apart in order to find solutions, which involve finding their true selves. The characters are usually interesting people with dreams beyond finding enough security in order to raise kids and not die in poverty. They are interested in the world they live in and the people around them.

The women are strong. They are smart. They have layers of character that cement them into their world and make them readily recognizable in some fashion with their readers. They have aspirations. They are able to produce emotions beyond those needed in the bedroom. They do not meekly obey men without question.

The women have adventures, and quite often, they discover they have FUN in those adventures which earlier would have been so frightening to them. The women grow. They mature and shape their world through conscious intervention and determination.

Their men (or women, if they're so inclined) eventually prove to be worthy of them by themselves growing in character.

And of course, there's the Happily Ever After, or the possibility of same—a requirement. Positive personal growth gains the reward of love and security, basic human needs.

It's a great time to read books, isn't it?

Caring for long-distance, aging parents

2011-10-05T07:39:00.011-04:00

My parents are in their eighties. That came as a shock to me, but the other day the police confirmed it: 80s.

I'd called the cops—the cops at the other end of the state, that is—because the head guy (HG) at the retirement community my parents live in called to say (among other things) that my mother had been missing for 2 days. No, I don't know why he hadn't called the cops before this. But when I did, they noted that they'd answered a call about my father at the community a few days before, and that his description said he was 84. Which makes my mom 81.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. I first got a call one day as I was sitting down to dinner. Lately I've been getting "please give to our charity" calls at that time, so I let it ring. When done, I checked the message. For the first two minutes of it, HG was explaining who he was and that I was listed as Mom & Dad's contact person.

Two full minutes of this. While I'm thinking, "OMG, they're dead! Someone's dead!"

It wasn't until the two minute mark that he actually got around to saying that everyone was fine, for the most part. Dad was in the hospital with double-pneumonia, and as usual (this has happened a lot lately), the Parentals didn't call to inform. But Dad had been waiting for Mom to show up for visiting hours, and HG reiterated that Mom hadn't been seen in 2 days. He said that the last anyone had seen of her was her driving home from the hospital after Dad had been admitted a few days before.

I've known of two occasions in which Mom got hopelessly lost trying to get home from visiting Dad in the hospital. On both occasions she found a kind soul who let her follow them to her community. Which is about 5 minutes from the hospital.

I tracked down a phone # for Dad and he assured me he was feeling much better. (The same thing he'd told me the week before. Apparently he'd lied then.) A friend was supposed to provide transportation for Mom, but no one had shown yet. Dad told me that they were very, very late from when they'd told him they'd visit. The home phone had been busy for hours. (Mom forgets to put the phone back on the hook.)

My mom has Alzheimer's—she's been treated for it for years and is doing fine, though very forgetful of recent happenings—and so does my Dad, though he refuses to admit it. (We assume that he has to appear to be strong.) Dad is not getting treatment; his condition has gotten increasingly worse over a shockingly short time. He'll tell you a different story about the same incident within two minutes of each other. He's always searching for words that are just out of reach, frustrating him mightily. Mom just tells you what she thinks you want to hear, unless she tells you something that she's been ruminating on and embellishing to the point where it turns into complete non-reality.

In other words, you can't trust either one with telling you what's actually going on.

I got hold of the sheriff and they said they'd send someone over. Then I called Dad again, and guess who had showed up? Turns out that Mom hadn't taken long at all to get there; Dad was just impatient. And she'd eaten dinner in their community's dining hall just a couple hours before, so lots of people had seen her. I called off the sheriff and thanked him profusely.

So here we are today: Dad is in a rehab facility, learning to swallow correctly so he won't swallow liquids into his lungs again. He's doing great down there, and we hope to get him out two Fridays from now, before he can go insane. It appears that in that nursing home, there are only two others who have reasonable mental faculties. The noise level is loud, there's nothing for Dad to do when he's not in physical therapy, and the food is horrendous.

Mom will walk down to see him. His facility is two doors beyond their eating hall. But yesterday she got mixed up and landed at the assisted living center (which has a long wait list) instead, and apparently they couldn't point to the parking lot and next building and direct her from there. Thus, Mom took a little longer than usual to amble down for her visit.

So my sister gets an email from HG talking about how my dad keeps calling the cops when Mom doesn't arrive. Dad says he did not call the cops; he called HG to see if he knew where Mom was. Two weeks ago when we asked if the community could find someone to drive Mom down to visit Dad (one way; the community has a bus that can ferry her back) an hour before dinner, HG told us they were not set up to provide such extensive service. Now he says that we must add additional home service help (we already have help coming in 3x week) to keep track of Mom in case she gets dangerously lost. He says the community will hire them (from a company he keeps pushing at us; we think he gets kickbacks) and charge the services to M&D. I wonder where he gets the idea he can legally do that?

Mom does not have keys to the car. She may take her time and get a little confused, but eventually she finds her way. The problem with Dad is that he's not allowing her that time and panics. The problem with HG is that he's calling the cops and blowing things out of proportion.

Anyway, we kids (sis and bro-i-l) gathered there two weekends ago to scope out the sitch and talk with various resources. HG had assured us he'd be there. Of course he wasn't. He left some 13-year-old (well, she looked that young) in the office instead, who didn't know anything but how to hand out business cards.

We have insurance-paid nurses coming once a week to put pills in the proper boxes and make sure Mom is physically healthy. I call every day that no one else shows up to have Mom take her pills while I'm on the phone. We have Home Helpers (a chain; I've used 'em before) coming in twice a week as an additional check to make sure Mom is taking her pills (they can't give them to her, but they can stand there and watch while she swallows), get groceries, pick up prescriptions, do a little laundry, and take Mom down to visit Dad.

FYI: such help is in the neighborhood of $18/hour (some chains add more for weekend work, or if you ask for less than 3 hours). Make sure the company you choose checks out its employees well.

While we were there my sister (the CPA who's in charge of M&D's finances) ransacked their files to make sure we had the latest Important Papers. I'd called their lawyers and had been told that they'd redone everything in 2009. The papers my sister and I had were dated 1988.

Turns out the 1988 stuff (boy! that sounds ancient!) was the latest versions, but they were retyped or something and we now have spiffy, crisp copies.

We were looking for

• Wills

• Direct Power of Attorney (I've heard that some states also require a Direct Power of Medical Atty)

• Living Wills

So if you have elderly parents (or just parents), be sure you have copies of these. If you have kids, make sure they have copies of your documents.

We're still looking for

• Pre-paid funeral contracts

We're told these are often transferrable. No, not to other people (though I don't know about that), but to other cities as the people involve move.

According to my parents' contract with their community, they have to give 90 days (yes! I said 90!) notice to move. If we did that, that would mean moving them out at the end of December. In the mountains of NC. In a winter that's predicted to be a wet one.

So my sister broached the idea to my dad of moving at Thanksgiving and he sounded favorable. She's looking for assisted living places near her, where M&D can be near their grandkids and great-grandkids. She and I decided that the best choice was to move 'em out at Thanksgiving so as to avoid the chance of bad weather AND in case any last-minute glitches come up, we've still got time to maneuver.

When I called Dad up last night and mentioned Thanksgiving, I thought he was having a fit. But really, what should it matter that much? They don't have that many friends there, though they do have a doctor they love. Decades ago when I helped move them from Fayetteville, I discovered that, the Friday before movers were to appear on Monday, they hadn't done any packing. My b-i-l told me about moving them from TN, a little over a decade ago: again, no packing beforehand. So it's not like we're forcing M&D to pack at lightspeed.

Plans are that we pack everything, ship it to the far side of TN, and have yard sales in the spring to downsize their belongings. It sounds reasonable to me, but we don't want M&D to feel like we're kicking them out, working against their wishes, etc.

Having long-distance, aging parentals is not fun! My advice to others is to have your legal documents in order and not only have a Plan A in mind, but Plans B and C. If your loved ones are experiencing reduced mental faculties, get them to tell you what they'd prefer while they are still able to think straight.

And as for you yourself, make sure you have long-term care insurance! I've got to check what I've got; I think I need to expand it a bit. Ca-ching!!!!

Strickly a Book Review

2011-09-26T20:31:00.002-04:00

Call Me Irresistible: A Novel
by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
William Morrow Paperbacks
5 spangles out of five
Contemporary romance

Hah! Finally read a book that has been recently released!

Okay, so I didn't read it, not exactly. I listened to it. I had a loooong solo car trip to make and I tend to try to fall asleep at the wheel, so listening to novels is the best way to go. (An interesting lecture is also good, but one never knows how drone-worthy the lecturer will be.)

Shannon Cochran narrates this, and believe me, she puts oomph into her performance, differentiating the characters expertly and providing a satisfying Texan drawl or British accent when needed.

The worst thing about this book is that I'll have to buy a print version as well. Maybe I should make the excuse that I'll mark this up. You know, writers (especially RWA writers) are forever slashing color highlights through books, marking passive voice, conflict points, descriptive passages vs. dialogue, etc. Yeah, I'll do that. I need to buy a print copy.

But I'll mainly be buying it just so I can reread the introduction of Ted Beaudine as he arrives in the church for his wedding rehearsal. Ted (we remember him from Fancy Pants, right? Last we saw him he was something like eight or eleven years old) is a perfect man. No, really. He's gorgeous, he's at the top of his form, he's wealthy, he's genius-level brilliant, charming, and he's mayor of Wynette, Texas. He's also about to marry Lucy Jorik (from First Lady), who is Meg Koranda's (Glitter Baby) bff.

I wish I could give you the exact wording, but as he enters the church, the sun backlights him with a halo. Trumpets blare a fanfare (they're practicing; it's just a coincidence). Birds sing, the stained glass lights his path like it's tossing rose petals in front of him, etc etc. Perfect. So gloriously, OTT perfect that I was howling in the car. SEP treats him like this several more times in the book. "Don't you think it's weird?" Meg asks people, but they all regard her blankly.

Meg, of course, is anything but perfect. She (like most SEP heroines) is gorgeous (she doesn't realize it) and the daughter of wealth. SEP's pattern is to take a (usually) wealthy young lady who needs to be taught A Hard Lesson and rip out every support system she possesses. Then when you think things can't get worse, they get worse. And then they get worse from there.

If we didn't know that SEP's heroines can all dig deep within themselves and claw their ways out of their dire predicaments, we might close the book. But the fun—and let us be honest, the inspiration—of SEP's narrative is watching these heroines work hard. Bit by bit they learn tough lessons about themselves. They have to find and use their native courage against tremendous difficulties. They prove themselves to a world that has turned against them. And slowly they begin to discover their unique gifts, the ways only they can contribute to the world.

Kinda like Wonder Woman, right? Well, phooey on you. I think it is.

Almost any SEP novel you read will suddenly throw passages of heavenly poetry your way. This book is no exception, and I wonder what I missed by listening to it instead of digesting it word by printed word. These will be the kinds of things I'll highlight. It's this poetry that is one of the aspects of SEP that sets her so far apart from the ordinary crowd of romance writers.

Also, SEP is one of those writers who can really peel back character like an onion until you get to the Deep Truth which must be revealed so the character can not just grow, but blossom. I've been noticing that sometimes SEP throws in a couple too many layers—on rare occasion you say, "Get on with it!"—but this doesn't happen often and even those extra layers are worth exploring. (Though editing them out wouldn't really harm the book.) They're rare. Rare. (Just wanted to repeat that.)

And oh yeah, the sex scenes are ooey-gooey without being anatomical treatises. SEP is one of the few who can pull that off. Believe me, you haven't really read a hot sex scene until you read how the Perfect Man delivers Perfect Sex. (Which oddly makes it not so perfect, as Meg discovers.)

This is a second-generation book in that it deals with a bunch of kids resulting from some of SEP's earlier romance novels. More than a few of the heroes and heroines of those books show their faces as well. Wynona, TX is getting a little crowded. And there's at least 2 titles that I missed reading that would explain who some of these folks are. (I've read the rest. I think.) (And no, you don't need to have read any of these books to fully enjoy this one.)

Do read the Jenny Crusie/SEP "interview" on this book's Amazon page. Hie-larious!

All in all, a terrific read! Now all I have to do is actually read it.

Who's your U.N.C.L.E.?

2011-09-03T21:03:00.008-04:00

Before Star Trek, practically days after the Beatles hit America... There was The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

I was mad for the show! I don't really recall what the first episode I ever watched was, but I recall the impact the show had on me. My very first fanfic involved the Beatles and UNCLE.

What's this UNCLE, you ask? Philistine! UNCLE was (of course) the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, an international spy organization that utilized cool spy equipment and went on exciting spy adventures, laced with humor and pure sex in the form of Illya Kuryakin, Agent #2 of Section 2.

Oh yeah, Napoleon Solo was there as well. He was #1 of Section 2, even if he always wore a badge that said "II". (According to Wiki, this was Roman Numerals for Section 2, used in the first season and for some reason retained by Robert Vaughn for further seasons even though other agents didn't go by that system.)

James Bond had barely made an impression on the US when UNCLE first appeared. All I knew was that here were two agents of an international organization—and one of them was Russian!!! in a time of Cold War—who could pull to the side of a New York street, step down into DelFloria's Tailor Shop, and, after DelFloria pressed his shirt press twice, could enter a secret entrance into UNCLE HQ via the back of a dressing room.

The coat hook they had to pull down to release the secret door is now on display at the CIA Museum in Washington, DC. Really. Look it up.

The show lasted for 3 1/2 seasons. Fist season was b&w, supposedly to pay tribute to b&w spy movies. Second season is considered the best. By season 3 the show had instructions to be more Batman-like, since Batmania was then sweeping the nation. Season 4 saw things put back aright, although with less humor than the first seasons.

The show didn't have a huge budget. You see the same locations used over and over again: first as riverfront in Germany; this time as a Norwegian fishing village, then as part of a New England town. The economics made them inventive, just as Star Trek's staff had to be a year or so later. Speaking of ST:TOS, you'll see a lot of guest crossover between the shows. I watched an entire episode before discovering on the final credits that James Doohan had been one of the primary crew on the ship that had been the setting. Many of the stars making the rounds during the early/mid-Sixties showed up, as did big names, once UNCLE was the #1-rated show and everyone wanted to be on it.

My fanfic concerned a fact few people knew: that Minot Air Force Base (where our family was then stationed) had an underground network run by UNCLE but called (of course) MABLE, for Minot Air Base Law Enforcement. Now, who was their primary secret agent? I'm not saying!

UNCLE's Illya Kuryakin was the very definition of ultimate cool. He had a Beatle-ish haircut and British accent. He was slim, athletic, intellectual, and listened to jazz while wearing shades. He seldom smiled. And he was Russian, such an exotic nationality! He wasn't like Khrushchev at all, never pounded his shoe on anything. He worked for Good.

Give NBC a year or so and they'd have a similar alien, exotic guy with bangs and no smile called Mr. Spock.

It was a great time to go through puberty.

Illya has matured to now be Ducky on NCIS. It's amazing how sexy a man in his seventies can be! I look at Ducky and see Illya. One time one of the NCIS personnel asked the head guy what Ducky had looked like in his youth. "Like Illya Kuryakin," was the reply.

One can now buy UNCLE as a complete set. It took a long while to come out, as there were legal problems as to who actually owned the episodes. It costs about $99 from Time-Life and comes in a secret agent attache case with some pretty nice extra features. No pen phone though, darn it.

If you want to further your UNCLE research, find some of the novels put out as part of the extensive marketing the show did. (It was one of the first, if not THE first, to emphasize marketing. I know I had the UNCLE board game and had seen the various guns, ID cards, dolls and such. Alas, my allowance wouldn't stretch that far.) The novels written by David McDaniel are by far the best of the bunch, and two of those are volumes I've kept through the years and reread: Vol. 4, The Dagger Affair (when I went to San Francisco a few years ago I was THRILLED!!!! to see Lombard Street, where our Men from UNCLE had dragged an evil agent down the hill to get him to spill information), and Vol 6, The Vampire Affair.

McDaniel really got UNCLE, the characters, the off-beat style, and best of all, the humor. It was also McDaniel who informed us that "Thrush," the evil organization who sat opposite UNCLE in worldly affairs, was actually an acronym: Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity.

Occasionally I've wondered what, besides Illya, has kept UNCLE so dear to my heart all these years. It's only when I look at my other non-Beatle obsessions that I begin to see the connection: UNCLE, Star Trek, Wonder Woman.

They're all about working for a positive future. They're about the world working as one. We had a Russian working smoothly with Americans on UNCLE, as well as glimpses of UNCLE agents around the world, all part of one glorious and law-abiding society set to make sure that the human race lived to see its future. Star Trek showed us that future, and the people there worked to better themselves and others. We had a multi-ethnic, international/interplanetary crew who were all friends. With Wonder Woman, she works around the world empowering people (and herself), working for a better tomorrow for everyone.

So it's really no surprise why I should be such a fan.

One of the lovely sidebars of the collected set contains a short about UNCLE fandom. A professor goes on camera and recalls the time she sent her students home with an assignment: "Say to your mother: 'Illya Kuryakin.'" She reported that one of her students came back to tell of his mother letting out a scream of delight just at the name.

The other day I heard that UNCLE is going to be getting a remake by Steven Soderbergh, done as a Sixties period piece. I have to wonder just how much of the UNCLE magic can be recaptured, and how today's jaded audiences who seem merely to want explosion after shiny explosion, will take it.

Were you a fan? Did you prefer Illya or Napoleon? (Or April or Mark?) Or was there some other TV show that caught your imagination and has been able to hold it for years? Open Channel D and comment!

Strickly Sandbars — Yum!

2011-08-24T08:40:00.006-04:00

In senior year of college, one of my roommates decided to make us a traditional Southern treat: a Mississippi Mud Cake. With great pride, she handed us all hefty slices.

Eight years later, my eyes uncrossed. My hair is still tightly curled from the experience, though.

Mississippi Mud is certainly to be tried once. The cake itself was delicious, but to add a full, large jar of marshmallow creme on top of it, and then cover that up with a half-inch-thick layer of chocolate icing (or ganache)—that's just irresponsible. Why, that creates diabetics of anyone standing within 50 feet of the cake.

After I'd been on my own for a while I recalled that cake. At the time I was a vegetarian; the cake fell within my dietary guidelines, as did most things with a lot of sugar. But I wondered: how to make it healthy? Of course step number 1 would be to eliminate the marshmallow crap and icing. There was more than enough chocolate in the cake to satisfy chocolate cravings.

Checking my shelves I spotted a large container of oatmeal. That was healthy. Why, that was mega-healthy! And if I substituted honey for a bit of the sugar, that would make it even healthier, wouldn't it?

Okay, eventually my version with the honey has been lost, but I give you the COMPLETELY HEALTHY VERSION of the Mississippi Mud Cake, which I call (of course):

STRICKLY SANDBARS

Oven set to 350° F, Number One! Engage!

1 cup low-cholesterol-type butter-esque spread OR 2 sticks butter
4 eggs (think healthy! Use 1 cup of that liquid egg stuff!)
1 tsp vanilla

Cream/mix all this together and then add
3/4 c. flour
2 c. oats (I have no idea if quick-cooking ones make any difference)
2 Tbsp. cocoa
2 c. sugar (you could use raw sugar if you wanted to make this EVEN HEALTHIER!!!)

Mix it well and then dump in
7 oz or 1 1/2 c. coconut
6 oz or 1 1/2 c. (funny; I don't think my 6 oz. came to that much, but 6 oz was definitely enough!) chopped pecans

I have a note that says you can add more coconut and nuts, but really, this is quite enough.

Pour everything into a healthily-sprayed 13x9 pan for 30-35 min. When cool, cut into bars.

If you want to really shock your system, turn this into a Mississippi Mud Cake. Substitute 1 1/2 c. flour for the flour and oats, and while the cake is still warm from the oven, spread a large jar of marshmallow creme over it. Let cool before frosting with: 1 box powdered sugar, 1 stick butter, 1/2 c. canned milk (evaporated, I think, but don't quote me on that), 1/3 c. cocoa, 1 tsp. vanilla. Have 911 on standby.

Contrast the two recipes. See how the sandbars are healthy?

What kind of healthy treats do you enjoy? Have you ever redone a recipe to make it healthier?

Anyone have an aspirin?

2011-08-11T11:57:00.006-04:00

Today we have a guest-blogger, Lina O'Kelly, from my THREE WORLDS series. She's been wanting to say something that she couldn't (much) in the books. About her: Lina is a telepath and psychic from North Carolina (she was named after the state), and took the first major vacation of her life—pretty much using up her savings—to a South Pacific island only to find herself having to be rescued by Valiant. You all know Valiant, aka Londo Rand: Earth's mightiest (and sexiest) superhero. Now the two seem to be an item, but she says she has problems with that? What do you say to that, Lina?

Problems?! Pardon me if I snort like Sandra Bullock. I got problems on top of problems. And frustration. Yeah, you might make "frustration" number one on my list.

It was all my fault. Well, some of it. I thought those terrorists who had chased us across the island were gone. Lon said they were packing up to go, and he's got that paravision, even if he'd been stripped of the rest of his powers for a couple days. But he was wrong about them and they came back, and now he's lying on a cot, just barely hanging on to life after what they did to him.

Actually, he was fully dead there for a few terrifying minutes.

Okay, he's alive again. But he's pretty much unconscious and we're stuck in this big old laboratory, quarantined on another world. That's right: another world. How was I to know my new teleportation power could stretch that far? I guess time and distance really are human constructs, like so many of those New Agers say. Just as easy to teleport to the other side of the room as it is to port to the other side of the galaxy.

If that's where we are. No one's shown me a map yet.

There are people here who are friends with Londo, and they have powers different from his. One's a scientist and he's looking after Lon, but I'm not really sure just how much of a doctor-doctor he is. Lon's hanging in there, but is that because of his help, or because Lon is Valiant and regaining his invulnerability?

Whichever it is, I wish Lon would get better quick. I've managed to help a little—no, a lot!—with my psychic healing. It's tough to see him lying there all helpless and kinda little boyish. He's so cute. Not frightening at all. You've seen him on the news; he can look really scowly, you know? If I were a crook I'd be scared of him.

But we, well, got to know each other back on that island, if you know what I mean, and (can I tell you this?) we kind of fell in love. And let me tell you, it's terrible to see the man you love struck down and dead. It was like my own soul was sucked out of my body along with him. But it's frustrating to see him just lying there and not be able to hug him or even hold his hand.

'Cause, you see, whenever I touch him his invulnerability goes all to heck. Blooey. Lon's best friend, Jae, says that that could mean big trouble when Londo gets on his feet again. Me, I don't see us ever tangling with criminals together. I'll let Londo be Londo and I'll be glad to wait on the sidelines. What kind of trouble would come looking for me? Jae can be a worrywart.

Add to that: the doctor, Jae and Londo's boss thinks that I'm mind-controlling Valiant. He's trying to construct some big legal case against me, throw me in jail and toss away the key. I don't know any lawyers on this world! Do I look like I have money? Heck, I can't even speak the language! Yet. I'll study that first thing. I don't want to be an embarrassment to Londo.

In the meantime all I have to do is to look at Lon and wish that he was better so, ah, we could continue to get to know each other—very well. That much I can blame on Lon. I was never particularly lascivious. But ever since I met him my hormones have been running amuck. I want to be with him all the time. I want to know everything about him. I want to make him laugh... and other things. It all fills me full of ideas that I've never thought of before.

And that's an entirely new kind of world for me.

Hey—He's stirring. He might need my help. Gotta go.

Thanks, Lina. You can read how she handles all this in Star-Crossed, volume 2 of the Three Worlds series. You can even check out an extensive free excerpt.

On the sorry state of today's superhero comics...

2011-08-03T08:03:00.004-04:00

Over the years I've read articles about how heroic fantasy interests people who want to see justice done. Heroic fantasy = good wins over evil, right?

It used to be that way in the superhero comics (mostly DC) that I read. Those comics were almost never marketed at me, a girl. These days they're marketed for an even more different market, or perhaps I should qualify that by saying it's a "perceived" market.

Superhero comics tried to get more "realistic" back in the, oh, late Sixties and Seventies. That was perfectly okay with me. But in the late Eighties they took a decidedly dark turn (gee, thanks, Frank Miller) and then they began to get sadistic, especially at DC. The year 2004 was punctuated with Identity Crisis, which (let's go to Wiki) "according to Publisher's Weekly, 'This seven-issue miniseries... was both wildly popular and reviled.'"

Why? Because of pervasive shock-value violence. A beloved character was shown not only to have been raped in the not-so-distant past, but now, pregnant, is brutally murdered. The shock was the important thing; the logic of the plot and how the characters worked within it, was not. Heroes were shown to be more than the good-guy vigilantes they'd always been; now they judged and carried out dreadful punishment that, years on, would come back to bite (and maim) them.

This series was followed by event after event, each darker and more violent than the one before. Writer Mark Waid promised the fans that all this was leading to a "light at the end of the tunnel." That light never showed.

It struck me as if DC wanted to grab onto the gory themes and popularity of EC Comics of the Fifties. We all know how that ended, don't we?

So now because of severely declining sales (due mostly imho to the propensity for the comics companies not to seek out new readers, but rather to cater to their existing, aging, and shrinking audience), DC is about to reboot/relauch its entire line come the end of September. I first heard the term "Nottaboot" from my friend, Chris Companik. I like it; don't you?

Of course the message boards are lit up with guesses about what this Nottaboot will entail and how long it will last. Me, I'm highly skeptical of it. I don't see my favorites, Power Girl and Donna Troy, listed as appearing anywhere. Dan Didio, DC's co-publisher, has stated in so many words that he doesn't see the difference between Donna and her big sis. Well, Dan's the one who has allowed Wonder Woman to slog around in the bog her comic has been for years now (with a few shining moments in there, no thanks to him). If he doesn't even realize Wondie's potential, how can we expect him to figure out Donna's appeal?

Anyhoo.

Since my crystal ball has been sent out for repairs this month, I came up with a list of things I DON'T want to see in the Nottaboot. Do you agree? Disagree? Have additions? You tell me.

• I want heroes again. Real heroes who have ethics and who see a majority of successful and happy endings to their story arcs. I want good ultimately to conquer evil and be stronger than it.

• I want heroes who have a range of powers. Thus, anyone who has super-strength doesn't automatically have the strength of Superman (who should be DC's unquestionably strongest hero). There should be mid-ranges, even low ranges and higher ranges of power.

• I want basic continuity of major points (at least) so I can ground myself in the heroes' world without having to step out of their stories in confusion.

• I want scientists who have specialties. I'm tired of scientists (be they hero, villain, or supporting cast) who know every damned branch of science, and are experts at it all.

• I want to see feminine traits celebrated. Yes, even in males, as men aren't supposed to be complete machoheads, even in superhero fantasy.

• I want less sexism. Much less (if not an absence of) shock violence. I want to see a comic book world of people who reflect the ratios and types of people we find in our real world.

• I want kid types to act like kid types. (And look like them, too.)

• I want comics that will make me think. I want comics that will have me celebrating the glory of humanity. I want comics that will inspire me and keep me enthralled.

• I want art done professionally. I want editors to do their job.

• And I want a Wonder Woman whom I can point to and say, "Yep, definitely Wonder Woman! No doubt about that!"

Is that too much to ask? Would today's young and diverse potential audience go for something like that?

3 New Abstracts!

2011-07-27T15:31:00.007-04:00

Aren't abstracts fun! And, unlike how some other people create them, it takes me some time to paint one. First I figure out a color scheme, then a rough composition, then it's texture, texture, texturing. Add some simplification, then texture some more and... voila!

I was in a red mood for these past 3 weeks as I worked on these. I wanted some kind of series feel, so I kept to the same palette. I've been watching so many HGTV shows where the hosts repeat their mantra: "Keep your room neutral!" And then along the neutral walls and behind that neutral couch, they place wildly colorful paintings. This is how I envision these paintings.

"Genesis 24181." Why "Genesis?" Because I was seeing the birth of stars. This is 24"x18", acrylic, with a wrap-around 3/4" edge so you don't have to frame it if you don't want to. All materials are archival, and shipping is free. $540.00

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Here's "Genesis 24182." Okay, so I'm not good with painting names. It also is 24x18", acrylic, 3/4" wrap, and all archival. $540, includes shipping.

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And here's their sister, "Genesis 18241." It is 18x24", acrylic, 3/4" wrap, and all-archival. $540 with shipping included.

I hope there are homes out there who need a little frantic color and whimsy! Enjoy.

TV's Sexiest (non-dramatic) Men!

2011-07-24T08:51:00.007-04:00

I don't watch a lot of series TV, certainly not network shows. But I do sit for hours in front of the more reality kind of shows, as long as they aren't the Big Brother or Are You Smarter Than types.

I love learning. But if there's a sexy man giving a demo, so much the better! Some of the sexiest guys on TV are trying to teach me something. Or sell me something. Other than the number-one slot, my list is in no particular order:

1. Mike Rowe. Pardon me while I fan myself. Mike, of Dirty Jobs and Ford commercials fame, is not only heavenly to look at, but he has a terrific sense of humor, can talk to anyone and make them feel respected and liked, sings opera gloriously, is curious, and will take on any task he has to do, even if he's not keen to do it. This man is the very definition of testosterone focused in a positive direction!

2. Isaiah Mustafa of the Old Spice commercials. I have no idea what else he might do, but he's sheer, unadulterated eye candy, with a voice like melting chocolate.

3. Ben Bailey of Cash Cab (NYC) fame. I've seen his act on Comedy Central as well. He's funny. Who can resist a funny guy who's not only intelligent, but doesn't resort to a stream of shock-value profanity? Classy.

4. Mike Holmes of various HGTV shows. A bit more mature, but this is a man who can handle any construction problem. He knows when to ask for help and whom to call. He seems to care about people. Face it: a man who knows how to get his (ahem) job done better than the others who came before him? Priceless!

5. Dean Winters, Allstate's "Mr. Mayhem." No, I've not followed his dramatic series career but I pay attention to his commercials! Everyone loves a classic Bad Boy. Woof!

6. Jon Stewart, the Most Trusted Man in America and one of our too-few media voices of reason. Sure, he's a little short, but he's handsome, savvy, witty, conversant, brave, and daring. He not only knows how to hire a great writing staff, but is proficient in Star Wars and major superheroes. Now if only he could cut down on the profanity...

7. Ahmed Hassan of Yard Crashers. A gorgeous, friendly man who can get things done! You may be entirely too young, but oh, Ahmed, come to my house!!!

So what about you? Whose program or commercials do you watch even if you don't care what they're presenting?

Getting life in focus

2011-07-24T06:08:00.005-04:00

Yep, it's time to take a deep breath, center, get down, and get serious about things.

Starting with this post I'm going to keep track of some of my goals through the blog. Y'see, by next year I want to have achieved some pretty great stuff. Get the house clean and organized. Get the yard in shape. Pay off most of my bills so I can breathe and save. Get my home businesses actually selling product in decent quantities. Get some head hair (not face! not face!!!!) back. And lose weight. Lots of it.

I didn't do too well on the bills department in the past three days. I've been charging things out the wazoo. Every now and then, after I think I'm doing so well, I'll hit a phase where I GOTTA buy things. But I really did have to get this stuff: hair done, makeup done, professional picture taken. Okay, maybe the Christmas tree was a luxury, but I said I'd buy one last year and didn't. When the both early and late sales were going, I couldn't find a tree that really interested me. Yesterday QVC had a very nice tree at a very nice price.

So all that means is that I've got to step up sales somehow. Hopefully by the end of this week I'll be in a gallery, and I'll have my Etsy shop really up and running. (Do people really sell things on Etsy?)

I'm not stepping out in the yard much this week, as we seem to be at highest temp levels for the year. I'll mow and water, but probably not much more than that.

Since Obi died I've cleaned out all the kitty stuff, and that has encouraged me to start to make headway through the rest. My goal for this week is to get the kitchen, dining room and living room cleared and maybe even cleaned as well.

I'm working on a number of paintings that will (cross fingers HARD!!!) be hanging somewhere public by the end of the week.

I'm working on my WW book but also starting a final edit of Applesauce and Moonbeams, with hopes of publishing that by the end of August or beginning of September. (September! Already???)

As for weight, I'm going to start with where I am now to track myself. Where I am now is 35 pounds lighter than where I was 3 years ago, my all-time highest weight. But I'm hitting the "zero out" button and putting me at zero now. Updates will show how far I've come from here, and not there.

So look for notations on the bottom of blog posts. If you just see a "-10" that'll mean ten pounds lost since today.

I'll be putting in extra exercise time this week in an attempt to jumpstart the system.

At 40 pounds down, I'll mosey over to Raleigh to check out what Dr. Bosley can do for my hair. I wonder if he needs new paintings for his offices?

Here goes. Geronimo!

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Steppin' Out!

2011-07-22T21:02:00.006-04:00

My vacation officially begins Monday. Fridays at work are short days. So I decided to make the most of my Friday afternoon and start the vacay off right.

It needed to, because my supervisor had dropped by to ask when it was (which he knew already) and if I'd be staying close in case he needed to call me. I reminded him that there was zero on my schedule for the next week. He keeps doing this, balking whenever I ask for vacation. I have ten weeks saved up. I have definite weeks when there is little or nothing to do. Why the fuss, then, of me taking vacation? I've asked around, and apparently he doesn't do this with others.

Anyway. I got out a credit card and started it smokin'. That's right, I signed up for my Art of the Carolinas classes. They'll be in November, but many classes, especially those on the weekend, sell out quickly. Surprisingly, I didn't sign up for the classes that had originally caught my eye. I got to thinking about things and by golly, chose a few alternates instead. I'll be learning two completely different approaches to still lifes—one in realistic oils and the other in crazy semi-abstract acrylics, going in for more abstract instruction from a very good instructor, and learning a bit of technical/marketing stuff concerning giclées.

And of course I'll need a hotel room for all that, even if it is just down the road in Raleigh. You wouldn't believe how exhausted you can get after frantically painting from 9 AM to 8 PM!

That done, I printed out a movie schedule for Harry Potter. For some reason I printed the times for all local theatres instead of just the one I was targeting. (Good thing!) Next it was off to the comic store to pick up a couple week's worth of comics. Still haven't read the special Wonder Woman issue, but according to just about everyone, it's a real stinker. Only saw 1 good comment about it. Oh boy. :^(

Plenty of time to head to Southpoint, the mammoth mall that I still think of as being new. I had a 3:40 appointment at Penneys for a portrait, so I moseyed around a bit, looking for some place to get makeup done. (I'd had my hair dyed two nights before. Don't want all that gray immortalized. The hair dresser went a little crazy with the red, which was only supposed to be on the very tips.) Because I was really early and didn't think there'd be time to eat before the movie, I got a snack and then visited the Bare Escentuals salon. (Penneys had a hair salon but no makeup.) There I agreed to buy a beginner's kit plus a couple other things. CA-CHING!!!! I told them about my 3:40 appointment; they said no problem.

I arrived late. Still, the photographer was buzzing around in her studio, so I thought it was okay. Even so, she complained about me being late. I asked why she hadn't answered my 2 emailed questions and she said she'd only gotten one. She didn't say why she hadn't answered that one. Anyway, I discovered that Penneys does not grant copyright to the sitter. I can use the shots anywhere but on my books—or to get a print done from Walmart, of course. Well, okay. Whatever. I'll be getting new shots done next year when I'm beautiful, right?

So I sat for the portrait. "Turn to your left, turntoyourrightturnleanforwardturnagainturnturnturnturnturndone!" Damn, what an impersonal sitting! I felt like a cog on an assembly line. No, there was no appointment before mine, nor one after. And it all happened so quickly I wasn't able to make the kind of expressions I had planned. You know, expressions that said, "Hi. I'm just like you. You'd probably like my books. Why don't you buy some right now?"

The photog wasn't pleased AT ALL that I'd brought a coupon with me. I chose the 3 poses that didn't make me puke outright (just wait until next year!) and ordered those. I hurried out, determined to make it to the next Harry P showing so I wouldn't have to wait over an hour. But I stopped to talk to a woman from that floor & carpeting place with the catchy jingle. By then I figured I'd missed the beginning of the movie. Then because it was so warm inside the mall I got a piña colada smoothie—yum! While sucking it down in the car I recalled that I had printouts of movie times for other theatres.

Hm. There were 2 on the way home. One had a new show starting in 20 minutes. If I could find my way back to I-40 quick enough... I did! I drove at a reasonable rate, too. Then we got a highway sign: "Traffic stopped 1/2 mile ahead. Prepare to slow down." Uh oh! But luckily the 15/501 exit was in sight. I took it to get to the Wynnsong 15. Of course the lady 3 people in front of me in the ticket line wanted to ask a million questions of the woman behind the glass. Everyone in line grumbled, but finally she moved on.

By the time I gave the ticket guy inside his stub, it was 4:59 for a 5:00 show. Whew! Took a right at the proper sign, went inside and...

Where was everyone? There were only 7 people there. Was I in the right theatre? Oh no, maybe this was Sarah Palin's Undefeated. Was it playing in this place?

I sat through a dozen commercials (some very old), and then another dozen previews. All the previews concerned white males having an adventure. Some of the males were boys and some were men, but they were all white. One preview seemed to have an auxiliary non-sexual-role girl in it, so I'll keep my eye out for that. (Hugo.)

Then, I'm happy to say, Harry Potter began. Wow! This is what they made the movies for! I was amazed by the tight yet poetical dialogue, and thought everyone gave a top-notch performance. The sets, costumes, makeup and effects were tremendous. The music was a little, well, John Williams-y in a saccharine way in tiny spots (he didn't do the original music for this film, but they were picking up on his theme), but it only detracted from things twice and only for moments each.

I'd brought a pile of Kleenex in because it was such a hot day and I was desperately trying to sweat my makeup off. HP7b turned out to be a three-Kleenex movie. At one point I was afraid I'd sob out loud—all too embarrassing!—but the lady behind me managed to do that first, which kept me in line. She was also the one who softly voiced for all of us, "Don't go," during the King's Cross white-out scene. (No spoilers here!)

Speaking of spoilers, someone on FB had mentioned they didn't understand the mirror shard from the last movie, and when Daniel Radcliffe appeared on The Daily Show last week, someone asked him why the mirror shard wasn't explained, when it was in the book.

All that made me look up just the mirror shard on Wiki and read about what I'd forgotten: Dumbledore's not-so-wise youth and his family problems. Thus I was able to keep up with things when this movie zipped through all that. Still, glad to see it included.

So HP7b gets a hearty recommendation from me! I can't imagine anyone not familiar with the series trying to see it, though. There was a kid in front of me, clearly a HP fan, who left to go to the bathroom and came back. "What happened, Mom?" he asked.

"The girl did something," she replied, after Hermione had dealt with the one horcrux.

Poor Mom, stuck in such a textured movie and not knowing where she was!

But it was a lovely, lovely movie and a completely fabulous ending to the series and so much more interesting than the Lord of the Rings movies. With them it was just fight fight fight, fight some more, fight fight. Insert bits with Frodo and Samwise here and there to keep everyone awake.

With HP there was drama and endings and sweetness and struggle and decisions and "Not my daughter, you bitch!" Bloody marvelous!

Which reminds me: time for a singalong!!!!!!

Afterward I said what the heck and got two slices of pepperoni pizza to go, with no salad in sight.

A great way to begin a vacation. Hope most of my days off are as productive!

A Bold New Direction!

2011-07-20T08:31:00.002-04:00

So I've been cat-less now for over a week. It's strange. I look forward to coming home and seeing Obi again, and then remember he's not there. Every now and then I think, "I need to check on Obi," or "time to give the cats their dinner," and then remember.

Heck, I'm still thinking in terms of plural cats, and Bran passed away last Thanksgiving! Still, whenever I hear a noise in the back of the house I think, "It's just Bran," and then look around to see where Obi would be, which would probably be the front of the house.

I know both kitties are doing fine where they are and I'm not really that blue about my sitch. It's just the getting used to things and getting past the "they're just outside and will be back soon" phase.

Like I'm trying to learn a new habit of not putting my dishes on the floor so that the cats can have a chance to deal with any morsels that might remain. I keep forgetting to avoid the cat food aisle at Food Lion.

It's being helped by the fact that sometime around last Monday afternoon I got the impression that the universe had placed one of those huge Punctuation Marks on my life.

Picture your life as railroad being laid as you live it. Ka-WHAM, and another spike is struck, pinning a length of track in place. Last Monday ka-WHAM, and a spike was struck securing the final bits of the last length, but acting like a hinge for a new length.

It swings around. It can go in any direction I want it to. There are new vistas to be explored, new possibilities.

To put it in Wonder Woman terms, I am now able to take a Bold New Direction!

Lately the universe has been leaving me clues here and there about focusing my life. Really, the subject pops up every place I look.

As a proper Sagittarian I have lots of big interests. But I tend to flit, and adult attention deficiency whatever doesn't help the matter. I'll be checking on something in Room A to do in Room B, then say, "Oh yeah, that needs to go in Room C," and then in Room C I spot a project I'd forgotten and start working on it, completely neglecting Room B's project, and then afterwards I'll wonder what the heck I had started out to do, and then try to figure where the time went.

Focus, focus, focus.

I need to make sure always to have daily goals lists and combine them with weekly and monthly goals (with year goals too, natch). These can really keep one on track, especially if one lists the importance of each goal as to A, B or C. You do A goals first, no matter how juicy those C goals are.

The problem is to correctly assign your letters. Is this something that absolutely needs to be done because it's expected and this is what normal people do and really, you're not normal or right if you don't do it? Or does it need to be done because (ahem) THIS IS WHY YOU CHOSE THIS LIFE TO BEGIN WITH????

I'm trying to ask myself: What if I were on my death bed, looking back at my life? What would I have been so glad I did today? What just wasted my time or diverted my attention from the important things?

Also death bed question: What's the direction I regretted taking? What's the direction that was SUCH a great idea to take?

Why not take that direction NOW? Why waste my time on the unimportant? What part of my life should I be developing or attending to? What is my gift to the world? When will I work on that gift and giving it?

Now's the time.

Obiwan Strickland: 1993-2011

2011-07-11T11:58:00.013-04:00

It was 1993, and I'd just rescued a tiny kitten from the middle of a highway. I never put up "found" signs because I wanted to keep her so much (and there were never any "lost kitten" signs). Katie was A-OK, but she was faced with a house that had five older cats, none of whom were particularly pleased at her presence.

So I went down to the animal shelter and a kitten stood in his cage, trying to get my attention. He was cute as a little button! I filled out the paperwork, plunked down my money, and a couple days later was able to take him home.

My parents were appalled that I would bring the herd back up to 7 cats, but it felt right. I debated whether to give my latest a unique name or a fannish name. I played with a combination of the two: Opie + Obiwan = Opiewan. But in the end I decided on "Obiwan." It's a grand old name!

Katie and Obi played together as kittens and young cats, but it became clear that Katie had a mind of her own and liked a more solo life. When the herd number dipped after a couple years, I got two more kittens: Molly and Bran-Bran. Both absolutely adored Obi and attached themselves to him, though Molly didn't like Bran much. (He'd bullied her when she was very young.)

Molly's eyes would shine whenever she was able to get Obi to herself. He abided her. But his best and inseparable buddy was Bran. Obi would take the easy road in life (perhaps in part due to him being on the heavy side, though maybe the sitch was vice-versa), and Bran would buzz around him until they both got tired and napped nose to nose.

Someone once told me about ragdoll cats, the felines who adore being held and petted above all else. While not that breed, that was what Obi was. He loved being petted. He spent much of his later years curled up on my left side whenever I sat down, happily getting his ears or chin or belly rubbed.

He also loved finding sunny spots, then shady spots, and supervising the yard and me. He was very frightened of strangers, which made finding a cat sitter almost impossible. He often needed meds twice a day, but if a sitter showed up, he'd take off for the deep woods and wouldn't come back until I was home and Stranger was gone. So I had to board him at the vets.

He loved to climb. I have a double-mirror door in my bedroom with a ledge above it. Often I'd find him and Molly up there, surveying the bedroom. The ledge required a good 5-foot jump for one section of the climb. Even when Obi had been diagnosed with severe arthritis, I'd often come home to find him on top of the kitchen cabinets, from where he could watch a good bit of the house.

Both Katie and Obi loved toys, but Obi loved them most of all the cats. Here you see him with Mr. Lion, a favorite. Obi would choose the middle of the night for his fiercest hunts, and come into the bedroom hoooling that he was the Mighty Hunter and had returned with prey. Then he'd jump or climb the cat steps to the bed and sleep with the toy tucked close. Often he'd drop the toy halfway up the steps and then crawl into bed. Unfortunately for Mr. Lion (or so I believe), Obi dropped the toy into the trash can beside the steps, and Mr. Lion went to the dump.

He knew what "Do you wanna go out?" meant. He'd be dozing in bed and I'd ask him, and his ears would perk up. Once after asking him with him apparently deciding to stay on the bed, I started to make a side trip before going out myself. I had to turn around because Obi was galloping hell-bent through the studio. He skidded to a stop next to the back door. (Refusing of course to use the kitty door next to it, because I would be going out and thus he'd be using the hooman door, the door of choice.) He looked at me accusingly. "You SAID you were going out!" I ditched the side trip and we both went out for a stroll.

One New Year's Eve Obi and Bran went outside for a before-bed stroll. After a while I heard dog barking and discovered the neighbor's dog had treed both right off my front porch. After the dog was called back home, Bran came down, but Obi stayed up that tree until daybreak.

Maybe five years ago the doctors discovered that Obi had a heart condition. He went on meds and I steeled myself to lose him early. But he hung in there. On occasion he had to go in for enemas, as he also had an intestinal condition. He had pretty bad arthritis from his hips down, but it never seemed to bother him. He was always jumping here and climbing there. Three years ago I took him in for his annual tooth cleaning and, after viewing his bloodwork, the vet said nope. Again I steeled myself. Gum disease easily leads to heart attacks. On top of all this, he was diagnosed with kidney disease.

Obi also had amazing sneezing fits. Think of the hugest sneeze you ever had, and then do it about 15 times in succession. Wait a minute, then repeat. Repeat once more. That was him. I told the vet I thought it had to be allergies, but she said allergies didn't appear as sneezing in cats. (Though lots and LOTS of Internet sites say she's wrong.) Last spring during the height of pollen season I wondered if Obi would die of sneezing. One time he did it in front of the vet and she swore in surprise! She said we could take X-rays of his nose and cited a cat who'd had a piece of grass stuck in his nose for years. Then she remembered that Obi was under a "no anesthesia" rule and said that cat's nasal passages were so tiny we'd probably not be able to see anything anyway.

He was also somewhat deaf these past three years or so. He could hear certain frequencies. Loud TV bothered him a bit, but if someone whistled or blew a horn, he was all, "What's that? Where'd that come from?" But when I sang to him he seemed to hear me, and when I spoke he watched me. Maybe he was reading lips? I'd always thought his eyesight wasn't the best—thus his shyness around strangers, as if he couldn't figure out what that blob was—but often he'd gaze out the window, keenly watching something in the distance (or up close) that was interesting. Next life, Obi: learn English! Communicate more clearly!

The rest of the herd thinned until it was just Bran and Obi, the inseparable. I constantly worried about how the younger Bran would take it when Obi died. Obi was Bran's hero and buddy. But Bran suddenly died and Obi was left alone.

The shock was somewhat lessened when Kitteh (Dexter) came to stay for a few weeks and recover from surgery while I found him a home. Obi hated Kitteh! Eventually he got to the point where he didn't go into a hissing fit, but man, was he happy when Kitteh went away! I caught him smirking several times.

Then Obi seemed to notice that he was the only cat left. By now his kidney condition had gotten him to normal weight, but he continued to lose pounds. He hit his 18th birthday and grew more and more sedentary—if that were possible.

Last night he was restless. His back legs, which had become more cumbersome over the past month, were seriously lacking in strength. He threw up a couple times and finally made four "I'm not feeling good" noises. He didn't have to suffer long. The vets were efficient and kind.

Now, after Bran died, he came back to me to tell me that he'd sent Kitteh to me because they knew I'd fix him up and find him the home he was supposed to have. But Bran also told me that he was sticking around because it wouldn't be long before Obi passed, and oh boy, then they were going to have some fun!

So when I tried to peek at the ether last night I expected to see Bran and Obi frolicking. Instead I saw a large group of very happy kitty angels, jumping around in flight and having one sweet time being together again.

Obi, my Pookie Boo-Boo buddy, I'm so proud and glad that you chose me to be your mama in this lifetime! May you and all your kitty friends have splendid lives to come!

Lifestyles of the Middle Class but Still Fabulous

2011-07-10T08:12:00.013-04:00

Where did the years go? I thought that once I'd reached 10 years in my current home, things would be perfect. I'd have everything done that I wanted, and maybe it might be time to move on to a new project.

But a few months ago I realized that I'd moved here in 1999. It was only last year that I'd begun making any big changes, and those were in the yard.

Well, the yard's getting there. The big-ticket item that remains is to re-do the pond and while I'm doing that, give it a waterfall.

But the inside of the house...

My previous (and first) home was custom-built by a supposedly award-winning guy who had some time on his hands. My loan was with Farmer's Home Admin. (no, I'm not a farmer), and they had fairly stringent requirements. So no, I couldn't get that dome home I'd wanted. But yes, they did give me an additional mini-loan when they discovered how Award Guy had finished my floors. He'd left them plywood. With the lettering still on it. FmHA allowed me to get carpet and vinyl to cover it up.

Still, the home wasn't the greatest layout. It was difficult to place anything in it since there were load-bearing columns in the middle of the open plan. I reworked it a bit, replaced the cheap but huge windows (it was passive solar) that fogged up almost upon arrival, never got the floors fixed, which had definite dips in them. (Award Guy swore to FmHA that snow had never been allowed to sit on the floors, though I had lots of pictures that showed week-old snowpiles there.)

But I put in some marvelous ponds, a fountain and a large waterfall. The front entry was covered by a huge, magnificent trellis that I did all by myself, complemented by a multi-level, small deck (also done by moi). The cats adored it and it looked great with the climbing roses. My bed had a skylight right over it where I could watch the moon and stars. And before the Jerk Neighbors moved in upstream and put in their lake, a lovely, magical stream burbled through the property.

But I wanted a one-story place for my knee, somewhere that had a better flow inside. I started looking around and soon it became apparent that the only acceptable house I'd be able to afford would be a double-wide. At long last I found one with a nice layout.

Okay, so I had them install it backwards. It didn't make sense to me to have visitors arrive in the more private area of the home. Nor was it wise to have the master bedroom/bath overlooking the neighbor's driveway, rather than looking out to the vacant wooded lot next door. The place was put in at an angle, so I could sit on the front porch and admire that lot, as well as my own front yard/forest.

I had a new front door installed in a blank wall (it's pencilled in on the plan above) and a porch built outside it. The "Sweet Dreams" bedroom eventually became my comic book library/guest room (murphy bed)/cat lookout station/Brad Pitt shrine/art business storage center. Getting rid of the bed has helped.

"Dream Land" bedroom is now my writing office, though it also holds an art flat file. The closet is now bursting with finished paintings.

The Living Room is my studio, with a library wall, a shelf for plants that have to be brought in over the winter (anyone want a free amaryllis?), and minor garden stuff.

The guest bath has a shelving unit with emergency supplies, since it's the only inner room I have. That unit sits in the bathtub. The rest of the space is kitty litter space, of which there's barely enough room to keep the boxes. There's just enough square footage left over that I can stick a foot inside and use the sink to clean my brushes.

But despite knowing that many Japanese people have to cram their entire family into a 400-square-foot apartment, I found that this single person (even with 7 cats) (maximum number) felt cramped with 1600.

Okay, I'm a bit of a hoarder. I'm a victim of CHAOS. It didn't help that every time I got the urge to organize and throw out, the cats would see the organized stacks of material and jump in, scattering things everywhere.

But I'm down to my last cat and the vet confirms that Obi probably won't live to see August. When he takes off to gambol through Heaven (Bran-Bran says he's waiting for him so they can really have fun) it'll be time for some serious restructuring of the Mess.

And also of other things. I desperately need good windows, since NC law allows manufactured homes to get away with double storm windows instead of real ones. I want windows that look nice and that you can open from the top, so as to get fresh air even when it rains.

How I need new floors! Seven cats, twelve years, and old carpets do not make for good current conditions. Plus, the vinyl floor I installed in the studio—though done to package directions—didn't work and needs to be replaced. (Though it looks REAL good in places.)

Why did Oakwood put the hot water heater in the middle of a wall? It's had to be replaced once already. I want one of those instant heaters that can be installed somewhere people can get to it for repair. And next to it I need a whole-house water filtration system. The water here, unlike my sparkling, tasty water at the old place, is reddish brown. Who knows what it's been rotting out?

I need a larger studio. I need a home gym so the treadmill won't take up a quarter of the family room. I need the fireplace replaced so it actually works. I need that hole in the wall where the old analog TV had been built in, repaired and de-angled. I need a porch overhang so that when it pours down rain I don't have to stand in the drench coming off the roof to get the front door open. I want a place where UPS can leave packages so they'll be dry. I want a proper library, though I promise I will seriously cull my books! And I need lots and lots of storage for the art business.

I want, I want, I want. I figure it'll only cost about, oh, $70 thousand max. One winning NC lottery ticket should do it. Just one.

In the meantime I shall begin with small steps. First that hole in the wall is going to be fixed, and the wall expansion joints in the front of the house will be disappeared. New floors for that section.

Oh, and did I mention that my La-Z-Boy—the only chair in the family room—broke the other day? And that the dining table needs replacement?

How much are those lottery tickets anyway?

Do others have these kind of home renovation plans? How long have you been in your house? Do you want to do some major reno, or is it perfect the way it is? If you rent, how do you stand not customizing your home? (I can't imagine not doing so. The first thing I've done with both houses is to cut a cat-sized hole in a wall the first day I was there so as to install a kitty door. I doubt a landlord would look kindly upon such.)

Mom's Spaghetti Sauce

2011-06-25T07:19:00.006-04:00

This week I watched Hungry Girl, which I've never watched before, and she made her version of spaghetti sauce. It consisted of tomato soup with a pinchful of extras. As someone who has actually been served tomato soup over pasta in a restaurant, I just want to say, "YEECHHH!"

Spaghetti sauce (or marinara sauce, take your pick) should have some oomph to it, some depth, even if it's an easy-to-make version. Last night I watched Rachael Ray make her own sauce, which started with roasting eggplant, peppers, and garlic. Too much work for my tastes! (Though I might try it sometime.)

Here's my mother's recipe, adjusted just a bit by me over the years. It's fairly simple and makes a vat of sauce that can be used on anything that requires such.

Brown 1 1/2 lbs. ground chuck with a diced onion. You can substitute ground turkey, but DO NOT substitute hamburger-flavored soy product, as it will turn, well, just nasty. I have three very large Baggies of such in my freezer that I haven't used yet.
When that's done, pour off extra fat if there is any, and then add 3 or 4 chopped stalks of celery. You can allow maybe a leaf into this, but I wouldn't suggest more than that.
Then add a chopped green pepper, large can (bigger than the 15 oz. 24? 30?) of tomatoes. They can be whole (in which case you have to smush them) or diced, just as long as they're not pureed.
2 pkgs of spaghetti mix. I usually get the stuff with mushrooms or mushroom flavor (who knows what it is?), or I can add some sliced mushrooms to the sauce.
Tbsp. or a little less of salt.
Simmer on low heat for a half hour, then take 3 small cans of tomato paste (I think these are 3 oz each?) and dump them in. Fill up one empty can with water and smoosh it around to pick up any paste that's stuck to the sides. Then pour this water into the next can, do the same, and repeat for the last can. Then pour the water into your sauce and give it a good stir.
At this point, taste it to see if it has enough salt. Also: you can add a little bit of sugar or baking soda to counter all the tomato-y acids. Depending on what you're using the sauce for, you may want to add more water to make it runnier.
Simmer another 20 minutes, then let cool. Put in the fridge and let it sit there for a day before even considering serving it.

And oh heck, as long as it's on the same page in my recipe folder, here's

Mom's chili sauce.

It's not as good as the Veg-All recipe but it's good in its own beany way. Very hearty! I'd serve it with some cornbread on the side, since this recipe doesn't come with its own cornbread topper:

Brown 1 1/2 lbs. hamburger with 1 chopped onion.
Add 3/4 of a large can of tomato juice. (I usually substitute regular V-8 juice here with no probs at all and feel noble.)
1 tsp. salt, 1 package of chili mix.
Simmer 1/2 hour.
Add 3 cans chili beans and 3 cans pinto beans, and don't drain them first.
Bring it all to a boil and turn off. This is another recipe that has to sit for an hour or two before consuming. Watch your heat/cool as you don't want to grow bacteria. You could let this sit out for an hour and it'd still be quite hot enough not to grow anything rancid and yet be warm enough to spoon into a bowl.

Don't forget the Beano!

"Ohhh, the paaaaiiinnn!"

2011-06-22T14:39:00.008-04:00

Remember on Lost in Space (the TV version) when the awful Dr. Smith would react to just about anything not going precisely his way by moaning, "Ohhh, the paaaaiiinnnn!" Even the Robot got tired of it after a while.

Well, I've been moaning internally a lot lately (and not just because poor Obi seems to be on a downswing). Y'see, I've just come out with my latest novel. It's called Star-Crossed, and it's volume 2 of my Three Worlds romantic superhero series.

They say that each book teaches a writer more about writing. This book is teaching me a ton about self-publishing. Oh, the pain!

Well yeah, it'd help if I were a little more awake when formatting. But when you've got a full-time day job, things can get hectic when you hit home.

One of my major stumbling blocks was the tiny fact that Microsoft Word hates me. I change a line of formatting, and an entire page changes. Undo! Undo! The line looks good now, but three lines down the formatting is now off. Repeat an infinite amount of times.

With this book I began at Smashwords, thinking only to publish there since they do all ebook codes (but don't do print books). A week later at a FABULOUS Heart of Carolina Romance Writers meeting, I learned that you want to start with Kindle, Nook and CreateSpace, and then fill in the blanks of distribution with Smashwords. Smashwords also lets you use coupons so you can furnish reviewers with free copies in whatever code they need. I also added Lulu to the list for the "fill in the gaps" for print. Just in case. We'll see how that goes.

Smashwords has this wonderful (free) ebook that details how to format your book. It is 85 pages long. Eight-five freaking pages. They say it'll take about 2 hours to go through, but I discovered that it was more like 6-plus hours. Much of this extra time was needed because, as I said, Word hates me and fought almost every step.

But I got it done. Hooray! Click the final button and it's published! You have to wait another 2 weeks before they'll distribute it to some catalog that goes everywhere, but until then at least it's on their site.

So I published on Lulu—a little trickier because you have to have a back cover and spine there as well, since it's print. Got all that done and ordered my sample copy. (You have to check that everything's right before they'll distribute.) Getting a book from them takes just under 2 weeks, and they're just down the road in Raleigh. Got the book. Horrors! No page numbers! I redid my doc, crossed my fingers, and reordered. This time everything looked fine. Ahhh!

So then I sat down and did everyone else. Buttons pushed. Then the next day when I was awake—ACCCCKKK!!!!

Italics were missing on the final three pages of the story. Somehow things hadn't entirely formatted correctly during the course of all the conversions this particular book went through in the past few years. I corrected those three pages, sent off a couple of corrections, and ACCCKKK! The italic mistakes occurred in other places!

FINALLY got everything done. I hope. Thank you, "Find" function! I may have missed some French words along the way, but the vast majority are correct. All texts have been sent off. I got a note back from CreateSpace that the spine copy needed to be smaller, so I did that as well (haven't heard back yet).

Lessons learned:
My next self-pubbed novel will be Applesauce and Moonbeams, a book I've been trying to sell for about 3 years. When I hear back (WHY don't professionals have the courtesy to send a "no thanks" email instead of silence?), I've gotten comments like, "I love the characters. Great situation! How cute! But sorry, no room on our schedule for this. It's too niche-y."

So this will self-pub. Because it's been so long since I've looked at it, I'll do a complete edit. But first I'll go by CreateSpace's Word template for the document layout if nothing else, strip every last bit of formatting off my Word files and then re-format as I read each word. That way nothing will be overlooked.

My style sheets will be minimalistic: "Chapter Headings," "Body Copy" (with CreateSpace's first line indent measurement) and "Centered" should be all I need. I'll also remember that calling my chapters "Chapter X" instead of just "X" will allow the various systems to recognize a new chapter and set up automatic tables of contents for easy navigation.

And instead of starting off with Lulu's cover instructions, I'll use CreateSpace's handy-dandy template which shows you exactly where everything should be placed.

I'm looking forward to a MUCH easier time self-publishing!

Now all I have to do is get Star-Crossed reviewed somewhere. Recent book marketing courses have furnished acres of review sites, but most don't want ebooks (do I want to pay big bucks to get books printed when my chances of getting reviewed aren't guaranteed? No, sir!) or if they do, are so inundated with requests that they aren't taking any new titles for a long while, and even then, it'lll be at least 6 months before they can get reviewed.

And oh yeah, I've got to update my fiction page tonight with all the right links for buying.

Think I'll take an aspirin or six. Ohhh, the paaaainnn!

Interview with a Super— I mean, Parahero!

2011-06-10T07:47:00.008-04:00

I’ve just joined a blog chain! Oh, the wonders of modern technology. The theme for this month:
Have one of your characters, from one of your stories (any! Novel, short, flash…) interview YOU!
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That's right, I'm going to be interviewed by the delectable but sometimes scary Londo Rand, one of the stars of my Three Worlds series. He’s the fella on the cover (see at right) of both vols. 1 and 2. Let me tell you about Lon. He's a parahero (superhero) who stands about six-four or -five, a shade under 30 years old, built like Hercules with a gorgeous-guy-next-door-if-you-live-in-Canada face, and a medium shade of skin so you can't quite tell what ethnicity he is. Black hair, brown eyes. An autocratic nose. Resident of Montreal. Frowns a lot because he's got to let you know he's in charge as if you didn’t realize that already. Lon? You want to begin?

Londo [flipping through book]: Chrisse, I've read this stuff. Pourquoi moi? Why me? Why are you revealing all our secrets?

Carol: Man, you have no idea. I've only begun to peel away your secrets. Be afraid. Be very afraid! Heh heh.

Londo [frowning fiercer]: If you know so much, then you know what happens to people who annoy me. I am the most powerful man on Earzh, and I'm not afraid to use my strength! I could fly you over a volcano, or into the heart of a tornado and—

Carol: Ahh, you're one of the good guys. You only bash the really bad folks. Though there are things coming up that you do that might make others think less of you.

Londo: Not listening! I don't want to know!

Carol: That’s right; you don't. Heh.

Londo: D'accord, let's get to something I've been wondering about. Am I really Superman with a different name?

Carol: Golly day, no! When I was a kid I read every Superman comic there was. He had some good stories, but mostly he was a pompous bore.

Londo: A bore? [He begins to pace. Uh oh!]

Carol: I like the way you say that, like Louis Jourdan in Gigi. "Eet's a booore!" By the time I got into him, Superman had taken the Superman-Clark-Lois triangle that had been so important to his legend and run it dry. Now he was out to portray women as being inferiors and pathetic—which most of 'em in his book were. It was awful! These days Superman's worried about how big his— I mean, how strong he is. He makes sure he's stronger than everyone else. Fight, fight, fight; bash, bash, bash. That's boring to the ultimate degree.

Londo [suddenly stops pacing]: And I am not!

Carol [quickly!]: Absolutely! You've got depth. And, if you don't mind me saying so, sexiness out the wazoo. I based you on another character, a favorite of mine who lives in Superman's universe though he's somewhat obscure, and combined you with yet another character whom I also found fascinating. That one's not so obscure, but people won't guess who he is. Then I looked over the Three Worlds series, what it needed as its lead characters, and adjusted the amalgam to fit smoothly into that world. You're quite your own man now.

Londo [looking smug]: I always thought I was.

Carol: Of course you are. You've got the biggest eg— I mean, the best sense of self-esteem anyone's ever seen. (Maybe a little too much sometimes.) Unlike your girlfriend, Lina, who's at the opposite end of the spectrum.

Londo: Tais-toi! Don't you say anything bad about her.

Carol: I'm not, I'm not. She's got a long character arc to go through. We need to see her grow as the series progresses, and she can't complete her journey too quickly. Believe me: she winds up a long way from how she started. Touch of Danger got her through one major phobia, and now Star-Crossed has her working past another two. By the end of the book, she's ready to really incorporate herself into a world she'd previously been cut completely from.

From there she starts to build her personality. She has to become a leader, even a world(s) leader. (Isn't it great how I can incorporate parentheses even though I'm talking?) She's actually Wonder Woman, though not even Time-Warner's best lawyers could ever make a court believe that. She'll ultimately incorporate the important Wondie themes and goals within herself. I can't help it. I'm semi-obsessed with Wonder Woman, even in these dark days. But don't get me started on that!

Londo: How about me?

Carol: Lina's the primary star of the series. But you're still the alpha dog, the champion. You grow, but in other ways. I'm not telling you. You need to be surprised.

Londo: So what’s all this “parahero” stuff? You have something against the word “superhero”?

Carol: Actually, “superhero” is trademarked by Marvel and DC Comics. Check Wiki if you don’t believe me, though the term is also generic. So confusing! But I don’t want to chance getting into legal trouble. It costs too much to get out of. Say, how’s about buying a book or two? Just in case, I mean, so I can get a little additional revenue. You make a lot of money; the Terran Paranorm Network pays you bucketloads, and you also get a hefty salary from the Affiliated Systems Mega-Force Legion. People who save the world on a regular basis deserve that kind of wage. I can write you up for a couple hundred cases right now, no prob. You use Paypal? You need any paintings, too? I've got some you’ll like.

Londo: Hmm.... I read a bit of this book—Star-Crossed—before it became too unsettling. Bloodthirsty, aren't you? There's a bunch of mushy stuff in it as well. Romance. I take it this is one of those chick books. Are you hinting that there's a "happily ever after" at the end?

Carol: There are a bunch of, as we call 'em, HEAs in the series. This particular volume has a very nice one—but I'm afraid it also has a cliff-hanger. Couldn't be avoided. It's the only one in the series, if that helps. But the series is a collection of adventure story arcs starring you, Lina, your best friend Jae, and the people around you as they progress through the years. Each of the arcs does indeed have that HEA, but "ever after" might only last as long as the next arc's first complication. You understand?

Londo: Certainement. I know writing. When I'm not Earth's greatest hero, I like to write children's books.

Carol: Well, not quite yet. But it's coming. I've got one I'm writing as well. I'll be using a nom de plume since I don't want the kiddies to accidentally run into your series, which has a lot of adult material in it. Though it's not hard-core. Mostly. You'll be using a nom de plume, too.

Londo: Mais oui. That makes it more fun! I like wearing an eyepatch and pirate “Cap’n Miller” disguise for the publicity shots. Arr!

Carol: Fun's what it's all about, isn't it? I hope that between the sci fi action and desperation—

Londo: And mushy stuff?

Carol: And that, yes, that you find you're having a lot of fun in these books. And that the readers do as well.

Londo: So do I. Or there still might be a tornado out there with your name on it. Uh oh—there's my alert signal. Gotta go save the world.

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Thanks, Lon, for stopping by. Now for everyone else: Check over there on the right for a cover you can click on to link to Star-Crossed’s page on my website, which gives you a link to Smashwords for the ebook version. You can read 1/15th of the book for FREE there and see if you want to spring for it. If you prefer print, you’ll find a link to Lulu. (Links are available for vol. 1, Touch of Danger, as well. Touch is published in all formats by Ellora's Cave Blush.)

ANNOUNCEMENT: As long as I have visitors here today, I’d like to say that I’m going to start doing a one-hour “Ask the Psychic” event on my Pro Facebook page, on or about every 16th of the month. Stop by my page to find details and ask a question!
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Full list of blog chain participants: 
Aimee Laine: http://www.aimeelaine.com/blog/
Lyla Dune: http://lyladune.com/blog.html 
Carol Strickland: http://carolastrickland.blogspot.com/ 
Amy Corwin: http://amycorwin.blogspot.com/ 
Lilly Gayle: http://www.lillygayleromance.blogspot.com/ 
Rebekkah Niles: http://juturnafaerthing.blogspot.com/ 
Laura Browning: http://www.laurabrowningbooks.blogspot.com/ 
Andris Bear: http://andrisbear.wordpress.com/ 
Marcia Colette: http://marciacolette.wordpress.com/ 
Nancy Badger: http://www.nancylennea-inlove.blogspot.com 
Sarah Mäkelä: http://blog.sarahmakela.com 
Jennifer Harrington: http://www.romanceadventures.blogspot.com/ 
Scott Berger: http://romanticadventurestories.wordpress.com/

Snakes on a Plain Patio

2011-06-03T20:09:00.003-04:00

Friday afternoon! Free! Well, I have to finish that painting, but I want to check to see what the irrigation guy did in the garden this morning when he came to finish the job.

And oh yeah, I want to get rid of that netting on the patio.

Y'see, in a fit of energy the other day, Obi galloped to our small pond to get some water. He has double-filtered water in the kitchen, but no, he wanted scummy water. I happened to be nearby when he got stuck in some netting. "Meow! Meow!!"

It's bird netting, stuff I put over the pond in winter to keep the leaves out. I had pulled it off the pond when the temps warmed, telling myself that I'd bag it up and take it to the dump—later.

Here it was, the end of May, and the netting was still next to the pond. It was sort of half-and-half, netting and leaves. Obi got a claw stuck in it. I pulled him loose, then gathered the netting and tossed it up on the cement patio where he'd be able to see and avoid it until I took it to the dump the next day.

Okay, so that was over a week ago. The netting lay still on the patio, still filled with leaves. On Wednesday I walked by and jumped back. A black snake tail twitched at the edge of the pile.

My co-worker and I had just had a conversation about snakes. She'd run into a rattlesnake or something at her house, and we'd both checked a Web listing of NC snakes. She showed me that if a snake looked like they had a full set of mumps, it was poisonous.

This seemed like a black snake, so I told it that if it were smart it would find some other place to get out of the sun, as it might get caught in the netting.

Thursday as I walked past, I noticed the tail again. This time it was on the other side of the pile. Oh good—not caught. I determined that Friday afternoon—today, when the dump was open again—I'd bag up the netting and get rid of it.

But there was the tail again, on the side where it had been Wednesday. I edged closer. No movement. Taking the netting from the opposite side, I lifted it, hoping that the snake would then slither off into the woods.

Instead, it came up with the netting. Eeek!!!!

But I've been communing with nature lately. I hit a suicidal squirrel with the car the other day—first time in a LONG time I'd hit something—and, thanks to a book on animal communication, was able to let it go. Ordinarily I'd have been bothered for at least a week. Now I knew the squirrel was doing fine in the Hereafter, and its end had come quickly.

My cat Bran died last Thanksgiving. He later whispered to me that he was having a good time, but was waiting for Obi to join him before he really kicked back and had fun. In the meantime, he sent me an injured kitty because he knew I'd take it to the doctor and then find it a good home. (PS: I heard recently from Kitteh's—now Dexter's—new mom, who reports that he is king of their household and beloved by all.)

So I reminded myself that in a previous life I'd been a Franciscan monk, and went inside to find my good scissors and a glove.

Ew. Ew. Ew. I cut away all the extra netting I could, trying to get in closer. That snake (I named him Mr. Snakey) (I have a way with names) had really wormed his way, so to speak, into the tight nylon netting. After snipping closer to him, the looong tail began to undulate. Ew. Ew. Shudder!!!

It got to the point where I couldn't help but have to touch the guy so I could get a steadier bead on cutting the net. He was quite dry, not slimy at all. After a while, though, especially as I was getting closer to his tiny little head (and he squirmed in my hand), I went inside to get some thick gloves. Ick! Ick!

Finally, FINALLY, I got to his little neck and managed to get all but a lacy collar of netting off him. He slithered out of my grip, down to the patio, and curled up there, licking the air.

What to do? First, I needed to get the pile of netting away from him so he couldn't get caught again. I picked it up and—

ANOTHER SNAKE!!!!

This was far down inside the pile, and also firmly stuck.

A car drove up next door: My evil neighbor's kid and her friends. I asked if any of them wanted to help with a snake problem. The two girls quickly and firmly declined, but EN's daughter volunteered her boyfriend. He was not enthusiastic.

"Is it poisonous?" he kept asking as he eyed Mr. Snakey.

"I think it's just a black snake. But I'm not sure." The guy had white under his mouth. A cottonmouth? He didn't have mumps, but co-worker Peg had said that there was an exception to the mumps rule, and for the life of me I couldn't recall what kind of snake that was.

We both stood there as the snake reared up and hissed at us. BF decided that EN's daughter's dad would love to help me instead.

Dad (Marc) trotted over. "I love animals," he enthused. This from the guy I have to keep reporting to Animal Control for his mistreatment of his dogs. But I smiled and thanked him, and he revealed that he used to catch snakes to release them into the wild.

It took a rake, stick, and sheets, but we finally got Mr. Snakey to hold still. (And yes, he was just a black snake.) While Marc held him I snipped off the last of the netting. Mr. Snakey sped off behind some trees.

Now it was time for Mrs. Snakey, who'd obviously been injured by the netting. "I don't think she's had any water for at least two days," I told Marc. She was entwined almost up to her eyeballs, which required a lot of precise cutting. Difficult to do, especially since my sweat was running onto my glasses. We had to keep stopping so I could clean up. And Marc stopped when Mrs. Snakey got so scared she took a crap on him.

Finally, with more help from rake, stick and sheet, Mrs. Snakey took off to find her hubby, both now net-free. Hope she and he will heal well. I thanked Marc PROFUSELY and believe me, most genuinely. The job would never have gotten done without him!

Black snakes are excellent for dealing with rats. I hope that they eat copperheads as well.

And I hope that they do such far, far away from any path I may travel again!

Goin' On the Town!

2011-05-26T14:14:00.012-04:00

I'm just a partying kinda gal, y'know? Out and about all the time. As long as "out" is the backyard and "about" is dragging myself around it with a shovel.

But I'm taking a couple days off, tying into the Memorial Day holiday, and just by chance that ticket I bought last December was for an event that began the long weekend.

"Spamalot." It was about a third the price of what the DPAC (Durham Performing Arts Center) wanted for "Wicked" or "The Lion King." Besides, I'd wanted to see this as well, partially because decades ago I'd seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I hadn't understood much of it back then. Those crazy Brits. Those crazy Brits on heavy drugs. But I knew I'd be prepared for madness this time, plus it had been on Broadway so it must have been Americanized a trifle.

So after angsting over when exactly I should leave, I took off about 15 minutes before I'd planned. Yes, there was construction on the Durham Freeway, but I hit the comic store first, and thus came in from a more northerly route. Though I'd tried to get a hotel reservation close to the DPAC (it was full), I got in at the Millennium Hotel, a place I felt sure I could find in the dark of night and woozy from being out beyond my bedtime. Yes, I go to bed abnormally early. I also get to work abnormally early, so there.

With a stomach full of Subway sandwich (ritzy!), I hit the comic shop and asked for helpful directions to the DPAC. Unfortunately, no one there could tell me much, but we puzzled over the map I'd downloaded. I decided that it wouldn't be that difficult to find. There'd be no more than two loops needed to catch the right one-way street.

Durham downtown is all one-way streets. They have a special loop that you drive on, and after a few times around you can spot where you want to go and try to recall where you were when you saw it, so that on the next loop you can turn at the correct corner.

But this only took about 1/8th loop. There was Mangum Street, and they'd already sectioned it off for DPAC traffic. (As opposed to DBAP [Durham Bulls Athletic Park, which is the new version of the old DAP, or Durham Athletic Park, which was what you saw in the Bull Durham movie] [The movie crew built the bull, which was moved to the new DBAP later.] traffic the next block over, which involved some kind of baseball tournament of the collegiate or high school variety.)

The website had said that both cash and credit card were good for parking. Wrong! Cash only. Good thing I had some on me (a rarity). I parked on the 239th level and took the steps down to the street. My co-worker had told me he thought there was direct walk-through to the DPAC on the various levels. He was wrong.

The DPAC was quite impressive! A huge lobby, dramatically decorated. I arrived about 45 minutes early, and already the concessions were mostly out of food. I rented a mountaineering kit (recommended) and proceeded up about 4 storeys worth of stairs to Level 2.

It was damned hot! I broke into a tee shirt-destroying sweat before I could grab a $3 bottle of ice water. Eventually they dinged the little tones and the doors opened. I checked my crampons and made it up another 5 storeys, to the lower balcony level.

Front and center! You betcha. A great view for the most part. It was curious that a few times during the performance the sets had been done so that major focal points (the Grail) or hiding cast members were either mistakenly hidden from or visible to the balcony folks, of which there had to be at least two thousand. That balcony was HUGE. I could barely see the nose-bleed seats waaaaay up there.

The play itself was fabulous! I couldn't make out some of the words because either the orchestra (such as it was) was a wee bit loud, or the audio system seemed to slur things. Then again, my hearing in regards to understanding conversation has never been that great. But it helped that I'd seen the movie so long ago, and eventually (perhaps they straightened things out electronically?) the sound came clearer.

Snappy songs, goofy situations! Lots of the Monty Python animation bits used, both as projections and scenery. The performers had more energy that I have in an entire year, and jumped, pirouetted, and farted their way across the stage with verve. The Black Knight and Killer Rabbit bits were hilarious to watch, with the clean dismembering and all.

The men had fabulous voices, but the Lady of the Lake continually batted it out of the park! What a voice! Let's check the program. She was played by Caroline Bowman, in her US touring debut. We WILL be hearing lots more from her!

Intermission came and wouldn't you know it? I was the only one on our row to get up. Front and center, you recall. Now I had to go up to the next level in order to get out, so I took the time to put on ye crampons and sallied forth. Then it was down 10 storeys to the nearest ladies' room. Ah, hardly any line. Then I looked again.

The line took a sudden turn and went thataway. Waaaaaaay thataway. I began to walk. And walk. And walk. Finally through the haze of distance, I saw a sign: "End of the line for Ladies' Room." I shoved some old ladies out of my way and ran.

The sign-carrier assured us that though holding such a sign seemed menial, it was actually a nice bit for ye resume. He also told us that the line would move—

Whoops! Didn't hear what else he said. That line moved FAST. We were shuffling at a smooth clip. The ladies' room had about 30 stalls in it as well as a traffic cop, pointing at the next stall available. Staffers shoved paper towels toward you before you could even shake your hands out over the sink.

The second act was even better than the first, though I had a couple probs. There was the Jewish number, which was troubling to me, but it really didn't say anything bad about Jews. It just singled them out as an ethnic group. Still, it's true enough that there is a lot of Jewish influence in the New York entertainment industry (if not that of the entire US). By the time it was winding up I was greatly enjoying all the wonderful dancing. Then came the gay number.

Any gays out there? I'm usually bothered when gays are used in fiction because they're almost always flaming queens, as was used here. I don't think that's respectful. Funny in occasional small doses, yes, but... Well, I was troubled. Am I too prudish?

Other than that, it was all great fun. Many in the audience were familiar with the musical, because they whistled along to the first time through of "Always Look at the Bright Side of Life." Later, of course, came shameless pandering to the local audience and an unlucky audience member (this a not-THAT-old lady who had trouble walking) singled out to be brought on stage and given an award and applause while King Arthur talked about Durham being the (close enough) home of Scotty McCreery (who wouldn't be crowned Idol winner for another 40 minutes) and Clay Aiken (who played in this on Broadway, come to think of it).

The flashy finale came, then the audience singalong, which was a load of fun, and then lots and lots and lots of applause for everyone.

Then we of the balcony all got out our ropes and rappelled to the street level. Parking deck stairs up were unlit (scary, if not for the crowd), and exit was surprisingly speedy.

Got to hotel and the cookie I'd saved from Subway. Whew! What a party animal I am!

I must do this again. Maybe in about two years, once my energy recharges.

Strickly a Book Review

2011-05-23T21:04:00.003-04:00

The Iron Duke
by Meljean Brook
Berkley Sensation
5 spangles out of five
Steampunk romance

At long last I bought this book, having heard so very much about it: "It's the epitome of steampunk!" "If you get just one steampunk book, you must get this!"

Since I wasn't that interested in steampunk other than trying it out to taste the flavor, I figured the ol' Duke would do.

And what a world he lives in!

The worldbuilding is by far the star of the novel. We are in late Victorian-era England, but in another dimension where many of the British people are "buggers," infected with nanoagents. These bugs help them survive the harsh environmental conditions that pervade many parts of Britain, but in the past they also made the people susceptible to mind-controlling radio waves broadcast by the dreaded Horde.

Our heroine is Mina, a keen-brained police inspector whose birth resulted from a Frenzy—that is, a mind-controlled rape of her mother by a member of the Horde. It has left Mina with Asian features and has made her the object of derision and outright violent hatred from the populace. Now that they have been freed from the Horde, they want nothing to do with any hint of it.

And the man who freed them is the Iron Duke of the title. He is a giant of a man with an iron skeleton. He is a sea captain, an appointed lord of the realm, and immune to the bite of zombies (nanotechnology gone completely, mindlessly bonkers). He is hero to all of Britain but greatly feared by some.

You'd think the two together would be dynamite, but the worldbuilding far outshadows everything else in the book. I discovered it was rather easy to set the book down for a day or two. The characters didn't really speak that much to me, though I was greatly intrigued by Mina's social situation. Once we got into the sex of the book the character clash and plot kinda went downhill.

What will keep you reading is learning more about the world our h/h inhabit. All along I was thinking: The author can't keep inventing such outlandish ideas and not have them seriously count for anything in the story. Sure enough, this book is part of an "Iron Seas" series.

Secondary characters will certainly come forward to carry their own books. They bring with them backstories that beg for further development. We have lady air pirates, drunken non-bugger heroes, an Indiana Jones type, religious cults with cities in the sky, white slave trade, zombies overrunning Europe, and of course, the mysterious Horde.

So what if the Iron Duke is your typical if slightly overblown romantic alpha male? What you'll want to read about in this book is its world: how it got that way, how it is now, and the possibilities for its future. That's enough to land it five spangles from me.

Strickly a Recipe

2011-05-21T12:36:00.003-04:00

My cooking repertoire is tiny. I make a few recipes far too often. The following one used to appear in magazine ads, but darned if even googling will find it anymore. Glad I chopped it out and stuck it in my recipe book way back when.

This is really easy, filling, and oozing with enough veggies to make it a no-guilt dinner. (Especially if you skip the sour cream.) The first few times I made it I thought it was far too hot, but these days I toss in a few more jalapenos. Yum!

Veg-All Chili with Cornbread Crust

1 lb. ground beef
½ medium onion, chopped
2 cans (15 oz. each) Veg-All Original Mixed Vegetables, drained
1 can (15 oz.) black beans, rinsed and drained
1 can (4 oz.) diced jalapeno peppers, drained
¾ c. water
1 package taco seasoning mix
salsa
sour cream

CRUST:
¾ c. all-purpose flour
½ c. yellow corn meal
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
¼ tsp. salt
½ c. milk
1 egg
2 Tbsp. oil
1 can (4 oz.) chopped green chilies

In 10-inch skillet, brown and cook ground beef; drain thoroughly. Return meat to pan. Add onion; return to heat and cook until tender. Add Veg-All, beans, jalapeno peppers, water, and taco seasoning. Cook over medium-high heat until most of the liquid is gone (while making crust should be long enough).

To make crust: In medium bowl, combine flour, corn meal, sugar, baking powder and salt. Add milk, egg, oil and chiles; stir until flour is moistened. Spread evenly over top of meat mixture in skillet. Cook, covered, over low heat for 30 to 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in crust comes out clean. Serve hot with salsa and sour cream.

4-6 servings.

NOTES: I've tried both ground turkey and faux ground beef (soy) with this, and both have worked great. However, I'm leery of just how much processing those faux soy products have, so I'll be experimenting with garbanzo beans or some such in the future in an effort to make this healthily vegetarian.

Though this is a Veg-All recipe, most stores have their own brands of canned mixed veggies, and they're fine. However, I have only been able to find low-sodium varieties in the Veg-All brand.

Being lazy, I usually use a full onion for this. I also use liquid egg product. There has never been a time when the cornbread came out as toasty-golden as the picture shows, and I think the photographer/stylist cheated. It will be kinda pasty yellow-white, but still very good!

If you're freezing portions, try to peel off the cornbread from the rest of the mixture or separate it in some way when you pack it in a container, as you might want to microwave the two sections separately so neither gets over-nuked.

It's BOGO day at Subway!

2011-04-16T09:14:00.007-04:00

Apparently Subway does this every year around Tax Day. (Which is not quite yet, thank goodness, because my accountant is supposed to call to set up our final appointment this afternoon.)

That new egg and bacon sandwich looked intriguing, so I thought I'd mosey over to Subway for breakfast, try it, and wind up with enough food to last the weekend. I love their tuna sandwich! (Sorry, Jared.)

I set off with Kindle to drive to Mebane, the nearest town. Why the Kindle? Because I get zero reception at my house—yes, with cells, too—and had two books to download. So I get to north Mebane's tiny strip mall, turn on the Kindle. Zip! Both books are there in instants. Then I get out of the car to make my way to the Subway.

There's a sign on the door: "BOGO will end at 2:00 on the dot!" Okay, that's fine with me, but too bad for the dinner crowd. I didn't recall Subway advertising that their huge BOGO event would be less than a full operating day.

Opened the door. Whoops. Didn't open the door. It was still securely locked. I checked the store's operating hours. 8 AM to 10 PM. It was then 8:30 AM. Finally caught the eye of the girl inside, who was bustling about attending to her bread. I pointed at the door, at the operating hours chart. She shook her head and went back to her bread.

Hunh. Well, I could go over to Waffle House, but I'd planned that as a treat for when the taxes are actually done. That is, if I have any money left to go to the Waffle House. Don't you love their Fiesta Omelet? Decided instead to hit the Subway at the new outlet mall.

As I arrived, I wondered what I'd been thinking. The outlet mall wouldn't open until 10, would it? Who shows up at an outlet mall before 10? There was the Subway the next major street over, but they never had unsweet tea. If I'd been awake, I might have recalled that the Mebane Wally World has a Subway in it, but I might not have, as I'm used to the Hillsborough Walmart, which has a mini-McDonalds.

But I could see the "open" sign from the street, so I stopped. At their front door the sign said: "BOGO will run from 5 PM - 8 PM ONLY!!! At 8:01, no BOGO will be honored."

I went inside. "Does every Subway have a different BOGO schedule?" I asked the guy behind the counter.

"Just us. The other four shops in town [turns out there's another one downtown] all run until 2."

I told him about the one I'd just been to, that hadn't been opened though they were supposed to have been.

"Oh yeah. We have to put those hours on our sign or they won't let us operate. We have to say we're open for 12 [I think it was 12. Could have been 14.] hours a day."

"What? You're saying the operating hours sign was a lie?"

"Oh, yeah. That's just for legalities. They open at 9, not 8."

Sheesh. Well, I was determined not to waste any more gas driving around in search of a Subway that might possibly be open and might be observing holy BOGO, so I just ordered a 6-inch bacon and egg flatbread.

Note: It's nice. You get a choice of regular eggs or egg whites. I chose to have them sprinkle salt over it (figuring the offer for such meant that the eggs hadn't been seasoned, and forgetting about the presence of bacon), so it was a little salty, but otherwise all right.

I ordered a meal. I mean, macadamia cookies would calm me during the huge storms we're supposed to get this afternoon. I gave my card to the guy and it didn't work. "It's not the card, it's the scanner," the guy said. Subway had insisted that, the day before their biggest day of the year (according to Guy), they switch out their card scanners.

"During Mercury in retrograde?" I gasped. "What were they thinking?"

The guy started to dismantle the connection between scanner and cash register. "They're idiots," he muttered. Then he said, "Guess instead of BOGO, you get your sandwich free today."

I thanked him (forgetting that I might have had enough cash in my wallet for the job. Cash? Who uses cash any more?) and went to get my tea.

No tea had been brewed yet. Not unsweet, not even sweet. I settled for some pink chemicals in water that said they contained vitamin C.

So a happy BOGO day to us all!

More Than Strickly a Book Review

2011-04-13T08:20:00.011-04:00

Journey of Souls: Case Studies of Life Between Lives
by Michael Newton, Ph.D.
Llewellyn Publications
5 spangles out of five

Let me digress. Waaay back in high school, I stumbled upon The Search for Bridey Murphy, a book in which an amateur hypnotist first took an Arizona housewife back to a previous life, as part of (iIrc) a party entertainment in 1952. As soon as she said, "Scratched the paint all off my bed" (she remembered being a little girl who was being punished by having to stay in her room and was feeling rebellious), I was hooked. Why, I even bought a record of the first session.

Bridey was supposed to have been a 19th Century woman living in Ireland, and during a series of hypnotic sessions her modern incarnation recounted that life, right up to death and slightly beyond. Researchers have said they've debunked the "facts" of her life, and the hypnotist did admit to leading his subject.

But just because one amateur doesn't conduct an investigation in a scientific method is no reason to completely dismiss the entire concept of reincarnation.

Ancient Greeks believed in it. Just about all cultures do, come to think of it. Why, the Catholic church even had to work to expunge mentions of reincarnation from their "official" Bible. (Though they missed a few "Elijah will be reborn" verses, especially in Matthew 11:7-14.)

I'm not talking transmigration here. That's where human souls can go into the bodies of animals. I'm not sure at all about that, but I have seen transcripts of hypnotic sessions where this has been claimed to have happened.

It just seemed to me that more scientific investigations should be made. Eventually I stumbled upon Dr. Helen Wambagh's wonderful books (except the last, Mass Dreams of the Future, which relied on one subject in particular, though I'll have to reread it as I just noticed it mentioned Obama).

But Dr. Wambagh dealt with large groups of people. She'd get a gym-full and regress them. Then they'd fill out a form. Then she'd regress them again; again, the form-filling. Then she took her results, graphed them and researched historic trends, etc. That's what I was talking about! It's all fascinating stuff.

She did a separate book on one of her "specialty" regressions she had her groups do: that of telling her what had happened before these people decided to incarnate. The book is Life Before Life. Incredibly interesting and enlightening! I wanted to know more but didn't see anything on the bookshelves.

Oh, the Internet! What a wonderful thing it is. The other week I discovered Journey of Souls, and have since ordered both followups to it. But let's talk about Journey of Souls.

In it we find Dr. Newton has regressed many, many people to all kinds of past lives. They come to him after medical doctors can't find the source of their problems, and sometimes the answers have been found in past lives.

Dr. Newton here presents what happens to us when we die. What the process is, what our life "Out There" (it's our true home, unlike Earth) is like, and how we go about getting back into a new body. The book is organized into steps that his subjects agree on.

When we die, we usually jump out of the body before any pain can get too bad. Suicide is a huge source of guilt, unless it's to alleviate physical pain, in which case it's okay. Young souls who abruptly die and are pissed off about it, and those who bear a lot of guilt can linger on as spirits instead of getting to where they should be going. Many souls linger just long enough to try to soothe the grief of their loved ones. They try to tell them that they're doing just fine.

Then they're off! Younger souls are confused by the journey and require friends and familiar souls to greet them. Older souls know where they're going. We get showered in positive energy to renew ourselves. We get a non-judgmental life-retrospective. There's a kind of central station that newly-arriving souls zip through, carried on currents of... something. This carries us to our "pods," which are places where the souls we will spend all eternity being BFF (literally!) with reside.

Though some of our friends probably don't reside in our pod, we can merely think of them and be in instant close contact with them. Though some souls may also be on Earth incarnated, they leave a part of themselves back in the pod, though they're at lower operating levels than usual. (Souls can also reincarnate into two concurrent lives. I've read that elsewhere as well.)

In the pod we have direct access to our personal guide and teachers. There are junior and senior ones. There seems to be a definite hierarchy of souls to the Source. (They say don't call it "God" because that makes it human when it's not.) Prepare yourselves to have your mind blown when the author makes a theory about the Source of our universe at the very end. It was something I was thinking about after having heard all the stories.

Anyway, in the pod we figure out what we did right and wrong—with both qualities being those we deem good or bad for our soul's evolution—in our previous life and what we could be working on, how we could be helping our podmates improve themselves, etc. There seems to be a lot of fun, humor, and even play as well as serious study.

Souls are at all different levels of advancement, though those in our own pod are right around our own level. To my surprise, this book said that there were new souls being born all the time. Some people truly are "old souls," and here I'd thought that was just some frou-frou goofball romantic phrase.

Eventually we decide to reincarnate. We talk to our guides and podmates and we do a lot of thinking. Then we get to go to a theatre to view possible lives. We usually have some definite location in mind. We're presented (by a council of Elders, who keep our wants and needs very much in mind) with choices of bodies and what their lives will be like. (There are turning points in lives that can make them go in different directions. We have free will.)

Then we go back to our pod and discuss/think. When we make a definite decision, we go into a meeting with the people who will be in our new lives. There are close friends and soulmates, yes, but also others who need the interaction with us to accomplish something. The Elders make sure we have a series of signs (!) that will signal to us our turning points. There are backup signs. One guy even said that the Elders knew he had a tendency to miss signs, so they arranged a bunch of backup signs.

One "sign" was a flashing of a woman's necklace. When the boy noticed the flash, he met her and she taught him important ways to approach life. Later, when he met his wife-to-be, he recognized her by her eyes, by her perfume, and one of his signs to her was that he stepped on her toes during their first dance. Aww!

Then it's off to be born. Being born is supposed to be a LOT more traumatic than dying. Good to know. Ah, you're wondering about abortion now, right? Most people report that very young fetuses don't have a human soul merged with them yet. The souls have to incorporate with the (animal soul?) that is there in the body. (The book says that animals have half-souls. I want to know more about this!)

The soul floats in and out of the fetus (if a fetus doesn't live until birth, the soul comforts it; the death was known before the incarnation), only really settling in at birth—and even then the stories say they don't really go gung-ho into their incarnations until about age 5. There was a cute bit about the soul trying to work to settle family negativity by getting the baby to reach out and touch someone's face during an argument, etc. Everyone was so busy saying, "Aww!" that the argument dissipated.

But the whole purpose of studying reincarnation is this: to realize that we indeed are immortal beings and that we are all on a learning journey. We should always strive to improve ourselves and help those around us. Life is a classroom, but life is also to be enjoyed by loving and helping others.

The book itself can be just a trifle on the dry, analytical side at some points, but they pass quickly and the text is usually clear. The examples, given in script form as the subject tells the doctor what's going on and why, is riveting. So I'd say that this book is a definite don't miss. Your mind will spin but your curiosity about "Why are we here?" will find a few wonderful answers.

Let's get small!

2011-04-06T08:41:00.008-04:00

Last November at Art of the Carolinas I was introduced to the idea of working on smaller canvases. First, they allow you to simplify if you wish. Second, they sometimes are available in quantity discounts, so getting a bunch costs a little less than your usual canvas. Third, they encourage working on series.

And I do want to work on series!

I've only done two or so flower paintings and had been wanting to do more, so I reached into my supply closet to the new stack of small canvases, and began. How fun it was to try three different versions of the same flowers that had bloomed in my window boxes last year! (I'd been so gratified to find a spot finally that salvia would thrive in. I do love red salvia.)

I tried combining two different techniques of painting on these, and am quite pleased with the results. Which doesn't mean that I'm not primed to start going a little more outrageous using the same subjects and new canvases.

My coworkers convinced me that these would best be sold as a group. As a triptych, they can be hung closely together. Or they can be scattered around a room, two here and one there, or maybe separately, to create a cohesive eyeflow.

I hope you like 'em!

The price for all three together is $250. "Salvia Triptych" is done in acrylic on canvas. Each picture is 8" square, with image wrapping around to the 1.5" sides. Click on the picture at the top of the blog for a closer look. Shipping and handling is free within the US. For other locations, drop me a line (through my website or on Facebook) and we'll talk. All materials are archival. And yes, I know I need to paint my porch. Again. (sigh)

Strickly Another Book Review

2011-03-22T20:31:00.006-04:00

Take a Chance on Me
by Susan Donovan
St. Martin's Paperbacks: Romance (2003)
5 spangles out of five
Contemporary set in Baltimore/DC area
Heat: Just a couple scenes, but oh, baby!

It's always a delight to read a good book after one has just finished a dull one. But it's even better when that good book is flat-out excellent!

The novel was on the trade table at the last Heart of Carolina Romance Writers meeting. We bring in books we've finished reading, and everyone gets to fish through the piles until they find something interesting.

"It's got a doggie!" I squealed and realized I'd said that out loud. At least I'd said it softly. The book does indeed revolve around one Hairy, a Chinese Crested, who has witnessed the murder of his master.

Our Hero, Thomas, is a burly lawyer who works with the police and sometimes with said master. He's found he has a talent for posing as an assassin for hire. He feels guilty about possibly having been the cause of said murder, and takes anxiety-ridden Hairy in. It's too much for him, and Thomas is finally reduced to taking the dog to a doggie shrink.

Said shrink is Our Heroine, Emma, who has recently (1) gotten divorced from a real stinko, and (2) taken guardianship of her newly-deceased best friend's 12-year-old daughter. Everyone has been badly hurt by life, but this book shows that love is a great healer as long as it is accompanied by patience.

But there's also a heaping helping of humor. Thomas' attempts to de-anxiety-ize tiny Hairy are hilarious, and sometimes involve having to buy maxi-pads. Or explaining why the dog always has a pair of his boxer shorts in his mouth.

The sexual tension between Hero and Heroine is spectacular. It starts from first look and strikes deep, but is never overdone. The author prolongs our agony in getting them into bed. One hysterical, magma-hot scene has the two on their first date, sitting on opposite sides of an outdoor picnic table at a crab shack. For various reasons, they never even touch each other. You'll laugh until you cry.

Did someone mention sex? The primary scene is a helluva scorcher! It runs the gamut of emotions and yet dishes out steaming, gooey, all-day man-woman action. Woof! I can't recall reading a better one.

One bit at the end on the hero's part struck me as not being true to the hero, but things were wrapping up and our couple probably needed one final Bad Bump before things straightened out again. Of course it takes a little terror, a culmination of a plot that's been brewing throughout the book, to tie up all the ends and give us the Happy Ever After that romance demands.

The prose is sparkling, the repartee delightful. The characters are people you'll take to your heart. I'm putting Ms. Donovan on my "must buy again" list, this time with something a little more recent. I do hope she's managed to keep up the excellent work!

The book is a real keeper. Buy it!

Strickly a Book Review

2011-03-17T19:36:00.003-04:00

Midnight
by Beverly Jenkins
Avon Historical romance
3 spangles out of five (and I'm being generous)
Historical romance set at the beginning of the American Revolution
Heat: It has one explicit scene and a few others that are so-so

At last I not only found a fairly recent novel to review (late 2010), but an author I've been extremely curious about and a sub-genre that I'd been wanting to try: Black romance. Plus it was set in Revolutionary times, an era I haven't seen in many romances. How exciting!

I'm afraid the book let me down. Although I'd previewed a couple pages from the "look inside" feature on Amazon, they hadn't prepared me for the—sorry—sheer dullness that awaited. This is a romance that lacks emotion. The only ones who display any are the bad guys, and they are so over the top you expect them all, even the women, to sprout mustaches so they can twirl them. Wait—there's the part where Our Hero punches the main bad guy. So we have anger represented.

With a romance, though, I want positive emotion. I want to see love bloom, and not just because both parties like sex or because they respect each other in a very proper fashion and so have a very proper and orderly demi-love. I want the heavens to swirl, the surf to crash; I want to see these people's souls torn apart because of their love and rebuilt through it.

In a historical, I want to see how people really lived in those times, how they were affected in a day-to-day way. Best yet, in a historical that didn't have any lords or ladies about, I wanted to finally be able to see people actually working to maintain their living. In this book when it comes to showing us how the times were, the narrator usually takes over, steps back several paces from the action, and gives us a scholarly view of How Things Were.

For the Black sub-genre I was particularly interested to see how Blacks lived, especially free Blacks located in the city of Boston, as these are. You're going to have a clash of cultures, of people either trying to get along or trying not to. We did get told that Quaker churches let Blacks come in, unlike other churches, but that even there the Blacks were relegated to the back or balcony.

Other than that, these might as well have been white people living very ordinary lives and not having to deal with any particular day-to-day injustices. There's a mention of Redcoat soldiers harrassing Our Heroine in her past, but other than that everyone gets along very fine. It's not until late in the book that we find that the neighbors, or at least the wife, must be white because she has red hair.

When did Old Boston turn into Sesame Street? Even the Redcoats seem to have taken their war rations of valium.

As it is, the villains provide what little spark of drama there is. They are all, bar none, OTT. I was confused that the very young slutty woman who marries the villain was not being portrayed badly enough to be a villain in the book, when it was then mentioned (one of the few examples, as I said) that her skin tone was very light, and in fact her sister had passed and married a white man. We then get a hint that the villainess's yet-to-be-born baby is actually a white Redcoat's child. This villainess gets her own brief OTT exit near the end.

But our stoic, never-complaining Heroine is Cinderella, forced by her Evil Father (nyah-ha-ha) to work in her neatly-darned rags from 4 am until well after dark, and then hurry through Boston conducting her own spy business. This leaves her with about an hour's sleep every day, I figured. She is "Lady Midnight," the mysterious messenger of warnings to Minutemen leaders. Unfortunately, the book drops this promising idea less than halfway through.

Our Hero is Prince Charming, the exotic man of the world who has lived for some time with the local Noble American Indian tribe in the Noble American Wilderness doing Noble American Indian things, but then was kidnapped to serve on evil British ships in exotic locales only to escape not only with his skin intact, but with a thoroughbred stallion in hand. He returns with infinite amounts of wealth, and of course, Our Heroine is his chosen woman.

"Beverly Jenkins has reached superstardom," the cover blurb says. But I found this book (4 glowing stars on Amazon) to be lifelessly written and bereft of any real plotline. The characters are one-dimensional; the situation, which should reek of adventure, danger, and intrigue if not a bald examination of race relations and the role of free Blacks at the birth of our nation, is plodding and missing any punctuation points. Everyone's dialogue is extremely stilted and sounds like everyone else. No one uses a one-syllable word if they can use five syllables instead. Perhaps this was to avoid any kind of demeaning dialect? At least the villains occasionally got to sound human with a contraction or curse.

Someone will have to point me to a good Jenkins novel, one that helped her make her rep, for this one is enough to keep me far from her works. But I truly am fascinated with the possibilities of Black historical romances; it seems a very rich sub-genre open to all kinds of fresh new approaches and ideas and characters I haven't seen elsewhere. Suggestions? Please???

The book has a gorgeous cover, though.

My first booksigning! Squeee!

2011-02-20T07:05:00.009-05:00

19 February 2011

Lilly Gayle arranged it all. A group of small-press/self-pubbed/ebook-type authors from Heart of Carolina Romance Writers got together at Northgate Books in Northgate Mall, Durham, NC.

Let's see if I can get all the names right. It's so difficult to tell people's real names when they toss around noms de plume. (checking the pic) That's Amy Corwin, Emma Lang/Annabelle Bloom, Laura Browning, Katharine Ashe, me, Heather McCollum, my ex-crit partner Marcia Collette, and our heroine of the day, Lilly Gayle. (Picture lifted from Lilly's Facebook page.)

There were long tables draped in white with the Mall logo on them. There were book props so people could see our covers from across the room. We brought candy and bookmarks to give away. And yes, I wore pantyhose.

Many thanks to Victor, who bustled about seeing to our every need and may have left his counter vacant a couple times when customers wanted to check out. What a doll he was! Not the owner, but a great employee. I think he's executive material, myself.

We did get a fair amount of people coming through. (Many more that I'd thought we would.) Actually, a surprising percentage of the folks who came into the store paused to check out what the heck we were doing. One guy with two sons quickly discovered that we were only promoting "women's books," and shuffled his boys off before they could be contaminated. One guy seemed to think at first that this was a good place to pick up women, but he took it with good grace.

Almost all of us brought chocolate, but Heather made a plate of cookies decorated as dragonflies (her series has a dragonfly motif) that were yummy!! Amazingly, many were still left when we all packed up to go.

Some people came through and bought a book from EVERYONE!!! Wow! I had some nice chats with folks both in front of and behind the tables. There was one woman, Joy, who was ECSTATIC that we were there. She's a wannabe author who hasn't quite finished her first book. She didn't know there were other people out there like her, or that finishing a book AND GETTING IT PUBLISHED was really possible for an ordinary jane. She went to the back of the bookstore and returned brandishing a book by her famous aunt (whom I've seen on TV), whom she considers a mentor. Joy had such enthusiasm! I hope to see her at our meeting next month. She's new to the area, and was delighted that our group exists. So glad to meet you, Joy!

One of the authors who had to travel from a distance brought in a few family members, one of whom pledged to review my book once she'd finished it. Thank heavens for reviewers! I've gotten lots of compliments on my books, but people never seem to write out a review for Amazon, where others might see it and decide they'll take a chance on a newbie.

It was such a thrill to sign books. I'd sorta gotten some pithy stuff together to write, but on my first try messed it up. Argh. Hope they didn't mind. You know, for Burgundy and Lies, I'd write something like "I hope this vintage is to your taste," and for Touch of Danger it was, "I hope this book touches your heart." Totally goofball, but what the hey. If I ever... I mean, WHEN I get to the point where I have hundreds waiting in line for an autograph, I think I'll change over to signing just "Strick." I've seen too many people (notably Nichelle Nichols and Janet Evanovich) sign for hours and have felt so sorry for their obviously painful digits.

As it was: Thanks so much, Christy, Blanche, Teresa, Rebecca, Ann, Ginger, and Amy! I do hope you enjoy.

One of the authors wanted to buy my book (I love you!!!), and for some reason I pointed out that even with the "sale prices" I was charging for my books that day, the e-versions were cheaper. So she whips out her smartphone, calls up Amazon, orders, and begins reading. I love technology!!!

So here's to booksignings. If you see one happening, do stop in and talk to the authors. Grab a bookmark or ten. Eat some candy (there's always candy). You don't have to buy anything. Just chat and say something nice. There's a special spot in heaven for those who do so. (Though there's an even better spot for those who stop, chat, and buy!)

Squee!

January's paintings

2011-02-06T08:26:00.015-05:00

July on King Street, 16x20", acrylic with wrap-around image. $500.00, shipping included.

Laughing Stream in Winter, 16x20", acrylic with wrap-around image. $500.00, shipping included.

Well, almost all-January paintings. I made a 2011 resolution to paint two paintings a month, and just crossed over by one week in February. I'm trying to paint more freely while still keeping a watch eye on composition. If you recall an earlier blog (waaaay earlier; I've got to work faster!), I showed my value block-ins. You don't recall those? Well, that's them, above, in red.

Hillsborough is called "Historic Hillsborough" because of its old (for the US) neighborhoods. At one time it was the capital of NC. If you've ever had to drive through downtown, you'll notice that the streets must be just a trifle narrower than they should—especially around that #@!! coffee shop, where people in parked cars will throw open their doors right in front of you because they're so focused on getting their caffeine. Also, that crazy hardware store always seems to have a semi unloading in front of it, which means you've got to swerve into the opposite lane to get by. You have to pray that no one at the intersection fifty feet ahead will turn in front of you.

But down a few blocks are lovely homes with old trees. One summer's afternoon as I was strolling with my camera, I caught some wonderful back-light. You all know I lurvs my backlight! And I was determined to use some really free brushstrokes to try to capture the joy of the light.

As for the other painting, it's the stream at my old place. I adored that rock in front. It was large enough that you could sit on it while the stream burbled all around. Just in back of the green is the remains of another stream bed, this one dried up, that I always felt sorry for. I should have saved my pity, for neighbors upstream moved in, decided they wanted a large lake on their property, dammed the stream, and I was left streamless except after a very heavy rain!

How I miss my stream. But here it is in its glory. I decided not only to free up my brushstrokes again for this, but also to utilize some textured modeling pastes so the foreground rocks have a bit of a 3D effect. Fun!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy these. Or even buy them. Please note: these will be the last canvases I date. I've now read/heard far too many experts say that dating a painting discourages sales, because people will look at a perfectly lovely 2003 painting and ask, "Why has this painting not been sold yet? There must be something wrong with it!"

So I guess this means I have to be extra-diligent with my records keeping! Arrgh!

Strickly a Book Review

2011-02-05T19:05:00.007-05:00

Crocodile on the Sandbank
by Elizabeth Peters
Warner Books
4 1/2 spangles out of five
Historical Suspense with strong romantic elements
Heat: It's properly Victorian and thus we shall talk of other things, thank you. Would you like some tea?

Here I am, trying to do recent books in my genre, but yet again I'm faced with an older (1975) book that has not a fantasy element in it. Unless you think that menacing mummies prowling through the night are particularly paranormal.

I picked this up because somewhere someone had mentioned that it not only was a definite keeper, but the first of a series. How I love origin stories! Indeed, this is book #1 of the Amelia Peabody series.

Amelia is a spinster, youngest child and inheritor of her father's surprise fortune. Amelia had long studied at her father's side, drinking in his love of archaeology and ancient cultures. So when he dies and she finds herself rich, she hies herself off to the world's more interesting historical places.

In Rome she happens upon a young, beautiful but destitute woman, Evelyn, who has been Ruined by a man who thought he could gain a fortune through her. But now the young lady's grandfather has disowned her, and if not for Amelia's rescue, she would have died of hunger and cold.

Her experience has left Evelyn vowing never to get married, for her view of men has been marred. Should she ever find a good man, she would not inflict upon him the stigma of her Ruin.

Amelia also knows that she will never marry, for Amelia is a woman of strong opinions she is not shy of sharing, and she realizes that her looks are not what a man should want. The only reason a man would marry her would be for her wealth, and she will not stand for that. So the two resolve to travel together, Evelyn as Amelia's companion, and renounce marriage while having an interesting time in the world.

After Rome comes Cairo, Egypt. Here Peters has done thorough research into the state of archeology during the Victorian era, and Egypt is not faring well. Much of its treasures is pilfered, and those that remain are not catalogued well enough to conduct serious scientific research.

Amelia sets off for a Nile cruise. One of her stops on the way to Luxor is Amarna, where she and Evelyn run into two archaeologist brothers they'd met previously, one of whom has come down with a fever. Amelia's medical knowledge is brought into play. Before she or Evelyn realize it, they stumble into a mystery that has something to do with King Akhenaten's tomb and a mummy who walks around at night, threatening their party.

Yes, the answer to it all does seem obvious, but it is the process of the characters solving things and interacting that makes the book. Amelia is one tough cookie, always ready with a smart crack, be it from her words or her iron parasol. She locks horns with one of the brothers, who is as stubborn as she.

There are several chuckles per chapter, and the bits of Egyptian history and landscape are vividly portrayed. A hint: don't read the back cover copy, which gives the basis for the series away—which includes the ending of this book.

Strickly Three Kiddie Book Reviews

2011-01-31T19:40:00.007-05:00

I've been researching kids' books so that I can rewrite a middle school book of my own. Here's three titles I've recently read.

The Shadows (The Books of Elsewhere: Vol. 1)
by Jacqueline West
Dial Books for Young Readers
4 1/2 spangles out of five
Contemporary Fantasy

While waiting (and waiting and waiting) for my take-out salad at Cracker Barrel, I spun their books-on-tape carousel. It was there that I saw Meg Cabot's Insatiable, which I later went home and looked up reader reviews to, which is how I wound up reading The Boy Next Door (readers hated Insatiable, and pointed instead to The Boy Next Door). I also spotted this book, went home, read some reviews, and ordered it.

If not for Harry Potter, this would have gotten five spangles. It's just that dab of Potterishness, that speck of not quite being unique whether on purpose or by chance, that brings it down. The cover looks like Harry in drag. The Big Bad is a smoky magic user who wants to come back to immortal life, and his granddaughter is... Well, I don't want to give it away, but she reminded me of Bellatrix Lestrange, especially when we last see her.

But other than that, the book is a refreshing if often frightening adventure. 11 (and three-quarters) year-old Olive and her mathematician parents move into a spooky old house. Olive's parents are busy being mathematicians. They live and breathe math. Their endearments to each other are math-oriented. "My love for you is a monotonic increasing function of time." But they do love Olive; it's just that their professional lives take up so much.

Olive doesn't mind being alone at all. She has her teddy bear and odd paintings and bric-a-brac left from the previous owner to think about. She discovers that when she wears some spectacles she found, she can actually climb into the dark landscapes and meet the people within them, most of whom are frightened because of the potential presence of an evil man.

The house also comes with three talking cats, and a boy named Morton who inhabits one of the paintings, but who remembers being alive. The mystery deepens, Olive is betrayed, and things come to a head when her parents take off for a math convention. (Leaving an 11-YO by herself???)

Details are rich and riveting, and Olive is a wonderful character who discovers just how brave and resourceful she can be. Take that, Harry P!

Harris and Me
by Gary Paulsen
Harcourt
4 1/2 spangles out of five
Contemporary (well, 1950s contemporary)

It is shortly after WWII, and our 11-year-old narrator is shuttled from cousins to cousins, because his own parents are drunks of the worst sort. Our story takes place one summer somewhere, I guess, in northern Minnesota, because at one point they talk about North Dakota being just off to the west.

The farm is about as remote as it gets, and the characters that inhabit it are about fifty times stranger than any folks you'd read about in Twain or see in Ma & Pa Kettle movies. Strangest of them all is the narrator's cousin, Harris, who's about his age, (schoolbook) dumber than dirt, but with an imagination that plays havok with the farm animals, mice, frogs... you name it. The images are coarse, and some may be put off by such name-calling as "commie jap gooner," but these are conceivably what such kids would come up with at the time.

I felt sorry for the farm animals. I also wondered why these parents weren't making sure their kids got a better education, but these folks are just scraping by, up in the middle of nowhere, USA.

This is definitely a boy's book, as boys will best like the no-holds-barred action and warped logic that comes out of Harris' head. Again, this is a book of intensely-painted description, though the description here is of a harsh and ignorant world. Girls will find that if they can get beyond their squeamishness (that poor frog! I'm not even going to say anything about the mouse fur clothes.) it all begins to grow on them. Certainly they'll think about it long after they finish the book.

Best Friends and Drama Queens (Allie Finkle's Rules For Girls #3)
by Meg Cabot
Scholastic/Apple Series
4 spangles out of five
Contemporary

Now let's go to something that's definitely for girls, but a little younger, say, 8 years old or so. I'd been wondering how Meg Cabot's kids' books read, and here's a great little example. The focus is on a fourth grader, Allie Finkle, and her world of BFFs and school and younger brothers and such.

We pick up the story right after Christmas break, when everyone is curious about the New Girl, who comes not from another town down the road, or another state, but an entirely different country! How exotic! How cosmopolitan it is to have a real Canadian in their midst!

But this Canadian girl brings new ideas with her in which she labels the classmates who don't kowtow to her as babies. Allie is the first to feel her wrath.

Allie sees the girls in her class start to cave in to the wishes of the new girl, afraid to be thought of as childish. Then one by one, Allie's friends have to act like they're years older than they are. They have to learn which parties are the acceptable ones to attend, what's the fashionable thing to wear even if it's not sensible; they have to get boyfriends.

Through it all, Allie puzzles over life and spells out the rules as she sees them. These rules are sweet ones, never OTT but still entirely girly: "It's impolite not to bump someone's fist when they are fist-bumping you."

I particularly liked the bits about Allie's college-age uncle who goes into utter depths of depression upon being dumped by a girlfriend who has very good reasons for doing that. I also liked the completely innocent and accepting hints that one of Allie's BFFs might turn out to be lesbian. Or not. Allie's heart is only interested in who is or can be her friend.

The action is small-scale and there are no dark magicians or crazed roosters in sight, but Allie's mind is sweet, intelligent, and focused on the Things That Matter to kids. I think any young girl would get a kick out of this.

Strickly a Book Review

2011-01-27T19:54:00.003-05:00

The Boy Next Door
by Meg Cabot
Avon Romance
5 spangles out of five
Contemporary Romance
Heat: Mild.

I thought these reviews would be of recent books in my genre, but I'm afraid I read a paranormal and got so mad at it that I needed something much lighter to remove its sour aftertaste. For some reason my first thought was of Meg Cabot (probably APDN, the All Princess Diaries Network, was on; all Princess Diaries, all the time).

What can I say? I lucked out. I began reading and saw that everything was done in email style, and figured it was some kind of silly prologue. Then the book swung into full speed and the email formatting didn't go away. I recalled that I'd heard of a book done that way; guess this must be it.

I'm not really into gimmick books, and this would probably tire quickly.

But it didn't. Instead I found myself laughing quite loudly on almost every page. (Obi was so upset he crawled out of the bed for a while.) The voices of each character are very distinct, and we quickly learn to love most of them. But oh! There are evil characters as well, and some are plotting some very nefarious things. Others are just jerks.

Mel Fuller is our heroine, a gossip columnist who would really love to be a hard news reporter (though she's really into the Hollywood scene). One day she finds her elderly, rich neighbor comatose after an attack in her unlocked apartment. Mel calls 911, and then has to take care of the neighbor's dog and cats until a nephew can be found to take over. (Personnel does not approve of her tardiness!)

That nephew is one Max Friedlander, famous photographer, ladies' man and general scumbucket who can't be made to give a fig for his aunt's condition as long as he has the chance to shack up with a hot model in Florida. So he calls in a favor from his college roommate, John Trent, to impersonate him and live in his aunt's apartment until she should revive or (more likely) die.

Hilarity, as they say, ensues.

On top of a tight plot, a rapidly-warming romance, a would-be murder mystery, family tensions, and an unforgiving personnel department, the email format is milked for all it's worth. We get jokes in people's user names, in how they approach the actual typing/presentation of their emails, and who gets copied with what.

I began to think that this would make a splendid movie, but decided against it. The email ambiance couldn't be captured on film, and without it the story wouldn't be half or even a quarter as funny. As it is, though, this book is going on my Keeper shelf.

Yep, it's that good. Read it!

Strickly a Book Review

2011-01-16T09:20:00.004-05:00

Fancy Pants
by Susan Elizabeth Phillips
Pocket Books Romance
4 spangles out of five
Contemporary Romance
Heat: Relatively speaking (romance can get pretty steamy), this would not be classified as a "hot" book. But it's not for kiddies.

Here I thought I'd read all of SEP's books (except the latest expensive ones), and what appears on Walmart's shelves? A reprint of a 1989 novel. (Amazon gives a 2005 print date, but it just showed up at Wally World last week.) It's all the rage to take a blockbuster author and start reprinting her earlier works to cash in on her name, but I've discovered that all too often those early books didn't get great sales when they first appeared for a reason.

This is not the case here. The book is an incredible 497 pages long—oy! And yes, imho it could have been cut and not lost much. But all in all, it's a fairly decent read. Certainly by the second half of the book I was in don't-want-to-put-it-down stage.

But, oh, that first half! We get detailed backstories on our heroine's mother (with a bit about her grandmother) and our heroine herself. The beginning is a flash-forward to a late scene, which in essence gives us a reason to read, because the backstory of our heroine does not portray her as likable at all. But in that flash-forward she recalls a time when she is lying on a deserted Texas road, pregnant and penniless. And THAT is the image that keeps us hoping for more from her.

Speaking of flashbacks, there are quite a few in the book, and at times I didn't know where we were in the timeline. The action also tends to skip years here and there.

But the characters are quite fascinating. There are not one, but THREE perfectly beautiful humans operating within the same milieu, something I'd ordinarily find boring, but these guys have so many flaws to work out that I forgive them. We have a hero (a golfer—yes, this is SEP!) who, despite his extraordinary skills and talent, just can't seem to win a major tournament. Our heroine is a Spoiled Rich Fashionista Beauty who has her expensive rug swept out from under her. Quite a few times. You don't think her state can get any worse until it does.

And then she stands up to the world. She determines that she'll grow a backbone. She works hard to get the life she wants. THAT'S what kept me in the book. Also wondering how she and our hero would get back together.

It's a book of surprises. I thought that our third beauty—actually a secondary character—would turn out to be someone's sister, but I was completely wrong about that. (Though I still waited for the revelation. I wouldn't put that past SEP.) Relatively early in the book our hero announces that he's going to play Pygmalion to our heroine, and in essence shape her into a real human being. I thought cool; and she'll do the same to him, and that's how this book will operate.

But it doesn't. Through our hero's horrible actions, our heroine saves herself. At the very end she does come up with a possible way to help our hero, but it's not very Pygmalion-like.

Despite all the backstories that I don't really think were necessary (though by the end they do add to the enjoyment of the book. The trick is to get through them all.), and the sometimes unclear timeline shifts, this turned out to be a "glad I read it" book. I lost a little sleep because I couldn't put it down one night, and I discovered myself thinking, "what's going to happen next?" as I was getting a cleaning at the dentist. Thus it gets at least 4 stars. If it hadn't been for the sheer length and all those backstories, it would have gotten more. Buy this book.

The Startlingly Bold New Direction Eras of Wonder Woman!

2011-01-14T13:26:00.004-05:00

This column first appeared at Comic Book Resources.com on Sept. 1, 2010.

by Carol A. Strickland

So here we are, just off issue #602 of Wonder Woman, and ankles-deep into a new era. Some fans may call what we’re reading an alternate universe or Elseworlds story, but since rumors are that it’s going to last for at least 12 months and it’s presented within the main title, I think it deserves a “new era” tag.

They’re easy enough to come by, if your name is Wonder Woman.

Some fans seem to think that presenting WW within a continuity that does not match the one she’d been in previously, is something shocking. They act as if there’s never been so much as a hiccup in presentation over her almost seventy decades of publication. But Wonder Woman has seen many eras come and go. Quite a few have been mere blips on the landscape; others have lasted for years. Far too many have twisted our gal at right angles or even upside down of her usual mode of operation.

DC also likes to throw a “Bold New Direction!” stamp on Wonder Woman stories even if they’re neither so bold nor so new, because Wondie’s sales have a habit of slumping. BNDs perk things up. (They also tend to anger some fans.)

William Moulton Marston established the original “Bold New Direction” for comic book superheroes back in 1941, when he created Wonder Woman. Then in the Fifties during the furor over Seduction of the Innocent and that book’s accusations about the anti-social elements of comics, Wonder Woman gradually underwent an unheralded new direction in which she “knew her place” in the superhero world, stopped being so daring and confident, and began palling around with younger versions of herself in order to find “acceptable” venues. This lasted until July, 1965.

Even the Wonder Family couldn’t keep sales up forever, so editor Robert Kanigher came up with the first “Return to the Golden Age.” Instead of Nazis, now Diana fought fairly identical Commies, and characters were inked with hashmarks on their cheeks as an odd nod to the style of WW’s original artist, Harry G. Peter.

This era lasted about eighteen issues. The lettercols were filled with irate fan opinion from both sides. In issue 171 Kanigher said, “…I made an attempt to recreate the unique flavor of [the Golden Age.] I don’t know whether it’s possible. But I had to make the attempt. I hoped the fans would be interested.” Two issues later he announced that the Golden Age was dead and that Wonder Woman would move forward again.

Good to know that the fans back then were as vocal as they are now!

From 1967 to 1968 came a gradual evolution into contemporary superhero-style comics. Fighting super-gorillas, teaming up with Supergirl (twice!), that kind of thing. It was a time of zero surprises but at least the stories didn’t make you want to tear the issues into tiny pieces.

Still, sales were getting dangerously low, so issue #178 shouted, “Forget the Old—The NEW Wonder Woman is here!” and the Diana Prince Mod Era was born. In a desperate, last-ditch effort to boost sales and reader interest, Wonder Woman was stripped of her powers and let loose upon a world as a human. It was a part of DC’s evolution into the Bronze Age, in which many long-running characters experienced out-of-the-box changes. Most were exciting, and DC as a whole certainly was. A reader didn’t know what to expect next. Anything could happen.

The Mod Era lasted a little over four (fabulous!) years. Then after another Return to the Sorta-Golden Age (Mr. Kanigher had also returned), we got an era of Bronze Age superheroics. That lasted until 1977, when DC finally realized there was a Wonder Woman show on TV. It had debuted in 1975. Oopsie! DC switched the WW comic to Earth-2 of the past in order to mimic the show’s first-season World War II adventures (but not the second and third-season contemporary stories, which the show had switched to by that time) while the “real” Wondie landed in World’s Finest and Adventure Comics for the duration—which was a little over a year.

After that came the rest of the Bronze Age. In the midst of this, someone thought that the advent of Wondie’s new =W= emblem was enough to warrant a “Sensational New Wonder Woman!” label. Okay, whatever.

Then came 1985’s Crisis on Infinite Earths, followed in 1987 by the rebirth/reboot of WW in the “George Perez version,” the version most comics readers know her from today. Gone was any mention of Amazon Training (besides it being classic Bronze Age-level martial training with swords and shields, since these new Amazons had no modern technology). Diana was definitely brought up to Superman strength levels, she could now fly, Steve Trevor was no longer a love interest, Diana Prince was no more, and so on. Though the original staff eventually moved on, their basic world-building remained. More or less, we can say this era lasted 23 years. Pretty good job there in creating something with longevity, George. (applause)

Within the overarching Perez era, however, we got quite a few sub-eras, each heralded on covers and promoted about as well as Wonder Woman ever gets promoted. DC tried to counter the Perez mythos (whose sales must have been falling, or perhaps was too new-reader-unfriendly in its complexity by now) as well as inject T&A into the script during the later Messner-Loebs years, which lasted about 38 issues. If you’re unfamiliar with this era, I recommend it highly up to the point when it got too schizophrenic and T&A. Go grab yourself some issues and enjoy!

Now we’d start to see new creative teams who threw out major established elements to make room for their own views of how Diana should operate. John Byrne superimposed doppelgänger versions of characters over WW’s Perez cast, plus shoved the Demon and his Kirby kohorts to the forefront. He also managed to complicate Donna Troy’s origin—bet you thought it was impossible to be any more complicated!—and proclaim Diana the SECOND Wonder Woman in the eyes of the world. This kind of thing lasted 38 issues.

After a few more staff shifts and approaches, Phil Jimenez came on board with a try at incorporating all of Diana’s eras into one cohesive story, an Amazonian Theory of Everything. Diana’s role as Amazon ambassador, teacher and extremely busy example-maker was emphasized, though she scored few victories along the way. Toward the end of this era we saw the Amazon monarchy collapse. It reorganized into the Republic of Themyscira on a completely restructured (and keen) floating Paradise Archipelago. Twenty-five issues.

But Greg Rucka came along and with one kick from Hera, did away with most of that era’s direction. Now WW joined the rest of DC’s Dark Age. Those changes affected the attitudes and mission of Diana. We now saw Diana as subservient (instead of respectful) to her gods, and she committed an “official” murder with accompanying blame and guilt, as opposed to all those other times she’s killed with little if any repercussions. This era lasted 32 issues.

DC began a number of forgettable (well, to me) Crises that did little to showcase Diana. With “One Year Later” DC tried to reinvigorate Diana’s sales with new volume/numbering and a new creative staff. Diana Prince was back, and Nemesis became a mild-mannered stand-in for Steve Trevor as WW’s romantic-ish interest. The engine was still revving up (though sputtering due to colossal scheduling snafus) as the book nosedived and crashed into Amazons Attack! in which the entire theme for sixty-odd years of Wonder Woman was derailed. This storyline oozed into other books across the DCU, spreading the word of this sickening version of Wonder Woman and her people and adding to the world image of WW being a villain.

Gail Simone took what remained and applied giant bandages to it. A few large jars of coverup were required while she strengthened Diana into a positive icon again, though one whose world wasn’t quite the one Perez had fashioned. Even so, it was a valiant attempt and lasted 32 issues.

Now we’re in a parallel past world which may or may not become canon, but is heavily hinted to affect what canon will be in a year or so. When we come out of this riff, it’ll be an even newer new era. Perhaps it will even be a bold one.

You can make a game of it: Reread your WW collection and take a drink every time a Bold New Direction comes up. By the time you’re through I guarantee you’ll be quite dizzy and confused. It comes with being a Wonder Woman fan. You learn to roll with the punches—I mean, eras.

So fans of WW can rest easy. Those who like this new era can see that other eras have lasted for years and even decades, and perhaps this will last for some time. Those who don’t like this era can tell themselves that this too shall pass.

Essay questions: What have been your favorite eras? Do fellow icons Superman and Batman get this kind of treatment? As often as Wondie? Why do you think that is?

My 2011 Resolutions

2010-12-31T19:11:00.009-05:00

I post here to make them public and accrue Guilt Points if not met:

In 2011:

I will lose 6 lbs a month.
• More movement
• Portion size
• More veggies
• More home-prepared meals
• Writing down food
I will get an estimate on hair transplanting.
I will dress better, improving my wardrobe gradually.

I will publish at least 2 volumes of "Three Worlds."
I will get “Nothing to Lose” and Touch of Danger done as freebies.
I will get an agent.
• Sending out queries at least every 2 weeks
I will sell Applesauce and Moonbeams.
I will finish in order:
• The Coin of Power
• Nothing Personal
• Amazon Magic
I will start a new book.
I will complete a new entry on my WW synopses at least every month. I'll try to update that site as much as possible, including weekly checkups for the business areas of the site.

I will finish 2 paintings a month.
I will be in 2 galleries by June, at which time I’ll re-evaluate to see if I should be in more.
I will auction off my lesser paintings and use Ebay/Etsy to sell stock.
I will be in at least 2 juried shows.
I will keep up with my Etsy store and rotate stock well, gaining sales.
I will find a partner for street fair sales. This may require buying tent, racks, etc.

I will pamper and spoil Obiwan.
Kitty will be adopted out by January 15 to a great home.

By the end of January I will have another chart of my finances done, with a plan to clear off credit card and loan debt toot sweet!
I will meditate twice weekly, with a goal of eventually doing this every day.

The living room wall will be repaired by April.
Glass will be repaired on the dining table and display case by March.
New windows for guest room will be installed by July, which means clearing out that room.
New walls for either guest room/office or living room/bedroom by Oct.
Get estimate on better floors by end of year.

I will take care of the yard and not try anything overly ambitious without having everything else reasonably under control.

The comics collection will be culled by end of year.
The house will be cleared and cleaned by September.

I will work to get more real friends and not rely merely on the imaginary people who inhabit Facebook.
I will watch two Netflix movies a month.
I will go through that "hear better" DVD I bought from Dook Hospital. After that is done, I'll start on the Spanish immersion program, and then go through the French one.

In life, I will focus and get things done one thing at a time. I will not over-extend myself. I will relax when I need to and work when I need to. I will use a timer when necessary. I will celebrate my victories! I will not beat myself up over anything.

I will do first things first. I will ask myself: is this really necessary to do/to have?

I will value the wonderful things I already have (including personal characteristics/talents) and use them to the fullest before even thinking about buying new things. I will celebrate my gratefulness every day!

I will take a tour of New England in time for leaf-peeping season, OR I will attend either Moonlight and Magnolias OR Dragon*Con.

What's in a Name?

2010-12-28T09:27:00.006-05:00

This column originally ran June 25, 2010 at comicbookresources.com .

Anyone who’s paid attention in school, or recalls the words to Schoolhouse Rock, remembers that a noun’s a person, place, or thing. Easy enough. “Hey, Batman, go to Gotham City and take down the Joker and Penguin!” Four simple nouns.

But with Wonder Woman we have problems:

“Wonder Woman, go home to Themyscira because the Hecatoncheires, Briareos and Cottus, have joined with the Bana-Mighdall to overthrow Hippolyte!”

Ouch. Look at all the syllables! Look at the weird spellings! Please don’t make me read that sentence aloud.

It doesn’t help that “Wonder Woman” is four syllables in a short ‘n sassy world, but she’s also got all this ancient Greek baggage to cart around. She’s constantly being besieged by ancient Greek threats, and her sister Amazons are often stuck with names that can make a reader stop and ask, “Am I supposed to be able to pronounce that? Doesn’t she have a nickname?”

On occasion magic users even slap a spell on Diana, chanted in Greek—sometimes at great length. It might even be ancient Greek for all I know, but I doubt it is. Perhaps I should flag down some of the many, many people in the DCU who not only can read ancient Greek fluently, but can pronounce it like it was 3200 years ago, and they were raised in the suburbs of Sparta. Lucky guys. I can’t.

It’s all great for atmosphere but hell to plow through.

Why, one of Wondie’s graphic novels was titled, The Hiketeia. That’s pronounced, uh, how?

Poor Diana of Themyscira (a misspelling of the city, by the way, perpetuated in Volume 2 and 3 of the book; it should be “Themiscyra.” Bronze Age stories got it right. Guess “Paradise Island” just isn’t hip enough these days.) has not only to battle ancient Greek foes constantly but try to pronounce their names as well.

Thankfully, the JLA cartoon told us that “Themyscira” is pronounced, “the mascara.” But a reader of comic books shouldn’t need to keep a pronouncing dictionary in hand to get through a WW story. They shouldn’t be lazy like SOME people (okay, like me) who look at these long words, decide not to take the effort to figure the pronunciation, and abbreviate them. “Wondie, go home to The Mascara because Zeus’ big monster guard guys have joined with the Bana to overthrow Hippy!”

Wondie’s got enough things operating against her in her quest for a larger readership. Why must we pile more on her?

To make matters worse, the modern WW mythos suffers from an awful lot of name-doubling. Though there are doubled names many places in the DCU, especially among the new heroines of the Young Justice era, there seems to be a megachurch-sized congregation of them within the pages of WW.

There’s Julia and Julia, Artemis and Artemis, a slew of Hippolytas/Lytas, and an entire squadron of Trevors, to name just a few. Some people like Achilles get stuck with multiple names like “Warkiller” and “Olympian” (which is also the code name for another character recently used in a WW-related book). Someone call the Amazon librarian, Mnemosyne, and get some more examples, will you? No, she’s not the famous mythological Mnemosyne, she’s the Amazon one. Min… Nim… Nemmie… Oh, forget it.

Don’t get me started on Donna Troy, she of the infinite origins and names. And please, writers, don’t bring back a completely dead character like Medusa and change her name (and powers/skills) to “Medousa.” Why are you trying to make things more difficult?

I’m big on simplifying the WW mythos both to help new readers (and myself) but also to streamline and focus the character. One of the problems the new creative staff should look at could be nomenclature. Keep it simple. Remember that the American school system is turning out kids who can’t even read basic English well, and texting isn’t helping things, u no.

Perhaps this problem could be solved merely by having Diana encounter threats that are NOT related to ancient Greece. Oh my, the idea! Perhaps it could be helped by Diana leaving Themyscira and concentrating on where she should be, Patriarch’s W—I mean, the Outer World.

Wonder Woman is such an exciting concept. She’s one of the premier get-it-done capes of the DCU, a fascinating character with layers of intriguing personality and unique ability/skills out the wazoo. Yet she’s a female in a medium directed at males. She has suffered from creative staffs that had little or no regard for her because she was a woman. She’s borne the burden of creatives who haven’t understood her in the least, or sometimes even deliberately set out to screw up her mythos and themes.

But through it all she’s survived. Diana shouldn’t face the additional challenge of requiring her readers to battle their way through a continual avalanche of long, odd words.

Some Holiday Recipes

2010-12-24T11:37:00.009-05:00

Okay, so they're not exclusively holiday-related, but they're what I'm going to make for this one. I'm trying to clear out various crap from my house, and had a stack of low-calorie recipe magazines that I almost never go into. I only use the pot roast carbonnade recipe from them, but I thought I'd also seen a crustless pumpkin pie kind of parfait there once. Wouldn't you know? As I'm about to thumb through one of the magazines, it falls, I catch it—and the page opened is the pumpkin pie parfait.

So I've now saved the two recipes to my files, and per Facebook requests, am reprinting them here. Don't ask me to put in copyright info, please, as I've got to rush this out. And note: I've never made the pumpkin parfait before, but it looks doable and tasty.

Pot Roast Carbonnade

I make this in a pressure cooker. That used to be a royal pain, but the new digital pressure cookers are a dream—no fear involved! Just punch some buttons and go relax. Consult your PC book to see how long pot roast and carrots/brussels sprouts should cook. Another plus of this recipe, besides its yumminess, is that it comes with veggies included.

1 3-lb. beef chuck pot roast
nonstick vegetable spray coating
1 12-oz can (1 1/2 cups) beer
2 Tbl catsup or ketchup, your choice
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 tsp dried thyme, crushed
1 8-oz package frozen brussels sprouts (if you're like me, you throw in a little more because of the "veggies included" excuse and because a 16-oz bag is staring at you. Check how much volume your pressure cooker will take, if you're using one.)
8 medium carrots, bias sliced into 1-inch pieces (1 lb) (I can let my new food processor do this. Yay!)
2 med. onions, cut into wedges
1 Tbl cornstarch
2 Tbl water

Trim excess fat from meat; sprinkle with salt and pepper. You know, they might have listed those in the ingredients... Spray bottom of a 4 1/2 quart Dutch oven with vegetable coating. Place pan over medium heat. Add meat; brown on both sides.

Combine beer, catasup, garlic, and thyme; pour over meat. Cover and bake in a 325° oven for 1 1/4 hours. (A lot less time if you're using your PC!) Rinse brussels sprouts with warm water just to separate. Add to Dutch oven along with carrots and onions. Cover and bake 40 to 50 minutes more or till vegetables and meat are tender. (Pressure cookers laugh at these times!)

Remove meat and veggies to serving plattter. Keep warm. Skim fat from pan juices. Boil pan juices till reduced to 1 1/4 cups. Combine cornstartch and water; add to pan juices. Cook and stir till thickened and bubbly; cook 1 to 2 minutes more. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Spoon some gravy over meat; pass remainder. Garnish platter with celery leaves, if desired. (Celery leaves?) Makes 8 servings.

Per serving: 235 calories, 9 g fat.

Pumpkin Chiffon Parfaits

1 c. canned pumpkin
1 tsp pumpkin pie spice
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
2 Tbl sugar
2 egg whites
2 Tbl sugar
1 1.4 oz. envelope whpped dessert topping mix (They mean Dream Whip here. I don't think they even make that any more. Guess you'll have to use Cool Whip or a generic instead, which means you skip the milk)
1/2 c. skim milk (see above)
1 tsp finely shredded orange peel (yeah, right. I always keep orange peels on hand.)
ground cinnamon

In a large mixing bowl stir together pumpkin and pie spice; set aside. In a small saucepan add gelatin to 3/4 cup cold water. Let stand 5 minutes. Stir in 2 Tbl sugar. Cook and stir over low heat till gelatin dissolves. Cool. Stir into pumpkin mixture. Chill till slightly thickened, stirring occasionally. Remove from refrigerator.

In a small mixer bowl immediately begin beating egg whites with an electric mixer on medium speed till soft peaks form. Gradually add 2 Tbl sugar, beating on high speed till stiff peaks form. When gelatin/pumpkin mixture is partially set, fold in egg whites. Chill till mixture mounds.

Prepare dessert topping according to package except use 1/2 c. skim milk. Beat in peel. In 8 dessert dishes, layer pumpkin mixture and topping, ending with pumpkin mixture. Sprinkle with cinnamon. Chill. Serves 8.

77 calories, 2 g. fat.

Since I'm saving all those calories, think I'll pick up some croissants and butter while I'm at the grocery store...

Hurry up and paint!

2010-12-19T11:28:00.005-05:00

One of the things I do when I finish a painting is to sign and date it. Then I let it sit around for a while until I figure out some final changes and make them.

When I noticed that the calendar was winding down, it occurred to me that I still had two paintings that were "finished" and needed to be looked at. So that's what I've been doing this weekend. (Besides playing with/petting the injured kitty my neighbor found. Kitteh required surgery and is recovering here while I'm trying to find him a good home.)

Here's the Macdonald-Stewart Library building at McGill U in Montreal. I love Montreal's architecture, and some of the buildings at McGill are extraordinarily picturesque (if a little run-down). One of the best things about this particular building is that you arrive at it from downtown without having to hike up the mountain like you have to do for the rest of the campus. You're still breathing normally at this point.

9x12", alkyd oil on Gessobord, all materials archival. Gessobord means that you can pop this into a regular frame and not have to buy one of those deep ones that only take canvases. $125 US. Shipping is free to US and Canada.

Here's a painting, "Summer Hay," in water-soluble oils I began at Art of the Carolinas. It's loosely based on Lloyd's Dairy in Efland, NC, a favorite subject of mine. It's 24x12", done on a Gessobord, and all materials are archival. $200 US. Shipping is free to US and Canada.

I'll get back to more painting now...

Separate But Unequal

2010-12-08T09:56:00.009-05:00

This column originally ran April 12, 2010 at comicbookresources.com .

Let us turn to the Book of Wondie. In the beginning, Wonder Woman was created as an Amazon. Back in the Forties her creator had an extremely limited pool of origin possibilities that would allow her to bound into the world as a feminist woman who could receive a fair bit of respect just for being herself. She could have been a cowgirl, but Marston went with the choice of Amazons, which also allowed him a base of mythology to work with. And the origin was good, amen.

By classic definition, the Amazons were an all-female society. I have heard many readers of late deriding the DC version for turning their backs on men in order to form that kind of nation. Those readers are showing their ignorance of the mythos.

While the no-men rule for Amazons in the Golden through Bronze Ages may be a little murky it its origins (GA Aphrodite went by the rule that men are violent and women are peaceable, and so she created the female nation to counter Mars/Ares’ violent plots), the Modern Era of Wonder Woman clearly shows us that the Amazons—well, the Themysciran Amazons—had no choice in the matter. Their gods created them as an all-female society (we are NEVER told why) and directed them to be exiled on a hidden island for their sins, and that was that. The Amazons had to obey.

Unfortunately this single-gender origin begat an ongoing sub-theme that continued even into the modern era: That women are good, men are evil, and that all are best off if they keep to their separate playing fields. This odd idea is a twisted echo of what is too often encountered in the world: that men are superior, women inferior, and that if men are contaminated with feminine ideas they are no longer worthy of respect.

The battle of the sexes has long been a source of drama and humor in fiction, but when used as a constant element in order to degrade an entire gender or over-celebrate another, it’s unhealthy and not entertaining in the least.

In the Golden Age Wonder Woman often demonstrated that violent, evil men would be so much better if they surrendered to Loving Authority—which was only available from a woman.

To make matters worse, the Amazons couldn’t even allow males to touch their island. Male cooties would bring doom to them! Also, if men tampered with Amazons’ bracelets, the action let loose insanity and uncontrollable rage. The Amazons lost their power because of men. Men are just bad news in every way, aren’t they?

Did any of the WW creative teams ever think that if they kept slandering the vast majority of their readers, there might be some kind of backlash or resentment toward WW? Do guys really like to be told they’re evil? That masculine qualities are bad? Let me tell you: women haven’t enjoyed being told the same thing about themselves over the millennia. Women resent it.

Yet with all this, from the first Wonder Woman’s basic theme has been that of empowerment of the disenfranchised. Often her readers and some creators have seemed to think that “disenfranchised” meant only women, but if you look a little harder you’ll see that WW stood up for just about anyone, no matter the gender, who was attacked because of close-mindedness.

Now, I can understand this separation of genders in the Forties. Society was very much like that, though it was just beginning to change, creaking around to a new stance. With the end of World War II, it tried to snap back and couldn’t. The genie was out of the bottle.

In the Sixties we had the Women’s Movement making headlines. Women, especially loud ones or ones in groups or ones in loud groups, were to be feared and ridiculed by all too many men. They had to be kept in their place, kept under control, lest men lose their power.

As the Movement became more mainstream, why was it that we still saw women and men so separated in comics when they weren’t in real life? Each had their own playing field assigned to them. Most comics readers were expected to know that if the women ever snuck onto the men’s turf, they’d quickly be put in their place and humiliated. In order for that not to happen, it was best if the women kept meekly to their own arenas. Wonder Woman often kept this separation in the spotlight and celebrated it.

How did Diana feel about the gender wars?

I’ll admit that comment was a one-time event. But it’s still astounding that it would ever see print. Its presence says much about the gender bigotry that all too often seethed below the surface in the book.

It wasn’t just Diana. DC as a company has often seemed to relish pitting men against women. They make sure they have their separate venues. WW lucked out because both the JSA and JLA needed token females, so she was associated for long years with each team and thus shared in the prestige there. When Diana left the JLA, her girly chair was filled by Black Canary. It was some time before the teams truly integrated by gender.

The more modern DC has seen a number of events in which the players were separated out by gender. Often these occurred in Wondie’s book, such as the Adjudicator arc in 1982, in which a galactic bigwig battled a gamut of DC’s more well-known heroines. During Phil Jimenez’s WW run in 2001, he had Circe turn all the male heroes into animals, while scads of female heroes from both forgotten series and successful gathered to save the world…and fight hordes of female villains.

As recently as Blackest Night we saw an entire legion of ring-bearers, the Sapphire Chicks, that was made up only of females who dressed in skimpy pink outfits, all just oozing luv. Of course no male in their right mind would deign to be a member of that group! The idea! Besides, it was pointed out that men don’t have the same capacity to love as do women. Uh… Say again? And does this mean that women don’t have the same capacity as men to feel some other emotion(s)?

What century is it again?

The Jimenez era of WW surprisingly ushered in male Amazons, fully integrated and welcomed as immigrants, and accompanied by thousands of male visitors and students to Themyscira. Imagine the intriguing possibilities this brought! Finally the “women are good; men are evil” theme must be eradicated within the pages of WW. We’d see how the genders working together could make a better world and better Wondie.

The male Amazons were done away with within the course of a few panels during the Rucka era and never spoken of again.

Guy heroes have guy villains. After all, it’s ungentlemanly to hit a woman even if she’s trying to blow your brains out. Of late, they’ve managed to have a handful of female villains as well and some have even turned out to be interesting and not just there to be “bad girl” romantic interests.

But Wonder Woman has been plagued with a high ratio of female foes from the beginning, so she could fight the women that her male cohorts couldn’t. Only Ares/Mars and Dr. Psycho come quickly to mind as WW’s male villains, and Dr. Psycho is a little person, which is a comic book way of telling us that he’s not quite a real man. (Comic books can be cruel.)

But Wondie not only has female villains by the score, she has them forming all-female teams. Villainy, Inc. was only composed of women in its first incarnation, and when it was revived late in the modern era, it was all women again. There was nary a male token in sight.

In the current third volume of WW, we have faced an opening arc in which villains ganged up against Wonder Woman. All of these were women, except Dr. Psycho, who is still a little person. An evil version of Herakles was also used (sometimes he’s good; sometimes he’s evil; writers can’t seem to hold his character steady), but not as part of the villainous, loosely-grouped team.

A few issues later we saw the nation of Amazons used as a bloodthirsty army that destroyed Washington, DC and many other places, massacring innocents as they went. Remember, they’re a group composed entirely of females. (It’s just been rewritten that this hellish army of tens of thousands was actually only about a dozen renegades. Right.)

The current Simone run has also placed an emphasis on separating out the genders. The run began with an all-female group of murdering villains, the Circle. They had a reason for not being inclusive, as they were Themysciran Amazons. The story progressed to include a group of villainous (or wannabe villainous) apes, all male. It then moved on to a large group of super-Nazis, of which two were female, which is extremely minimal integration.

We’ve also had ancient Greek warriors, zombies and all male, added to the WW cast. They first appeared as villains and were led by Achilles, who was just following evil orders from the mad/evil male god, Zeus. These Manazons/Gargareans now live on an island which no female can approach.

A new group of villains, the Crows, appeared: all boys, all up to no good in a murderous way. In the most recent issue of WW we meet an outer space captain who commands an all-female force and wants to decimate the Earth, except for 100 of its most accomplished citizens… who will all be women.

So the sexes are still kept very separate in the pages of Wonder Woman and within the DCU. What purpose does this serve here in the 21st Century? Doesn’t such a constant barrage of anti-male sentiment drive readers away? If we kept getting stories concerning groups of villains who were, say, all Black or all Asian, and if characters were allowed to complain over and over about how such-and-such race was inherently evil or good or if they were only subtly shown to be so, wouldn’t readers complain?

The reason the genders are so separated in the pages of the modern WW is not because of the gods’ whims, but those of her creative teams. Isn’t it time to end the segregation?

A Lesson Learned About Commissions

2010-12-07T08:58:00.003-05:00

I was so pleased to get a portrait commission! It's been a long time since I did such and I wanted to get back in the swing of things. Along the way I learned and relearned a bunch of helpful stuff that I hope to incorporate into future paintings.

First and foremost: insist on a good picture at a decent size! Luckily, today's technology is a LOT better than it was when I first started doing portraits back right after college. Now I can scan a photo, take it into Photoshop, work with it a bit, and print it out at a large, viewable size. But that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to reinforce the importance of getting a clear shot to begin with.

Also, I need to make sure the client and I are on the same wavelength as to what they want. They're the one ordering the portrait. They're the one paying for it. And they and their descendants will be the ones looking at it for years to come.

So when I thought I'd completed this particular portrait (above), I congratulated myself on doing a good job. I'd changed some colors to make it more lively and so the figures would stand out more. I'd adjusted the composition so the figures could be larger. But when I sent a jpg to the client for approval, she said that she recalled the skirt not being red, etc.

One of my instructors once said that while the artist is interested in composition, color harmony, value, etc., the client just wants it to look like the subject. I'll take that a little farther: though the artist wants to make art, the client is more interested in preserving the memory. In a commissioned work, the client's wants are by far the most important thing. Without them, there is no commission.

So I've redone the portrait a bit, hoping that the client will prefer this version:

Live, learn, and keep those fingers crossed!

Did I mention...

2010-12-02T15:29:00.005-05:00

Art of the Carolinas 2010!

This is the trade show/workshop weekend that Jerry's Artarama puts on every year in Raleigh, NC. I had a very good time there this year. Once again I tried water-soluble oil colors and have now made a definite decision on same. I learned about brushstrokes, got a new angle on putting a painting together quickly, struck up a few good conversations, and bought a lot of good, um, stuff. But I took far too many photos to include in a blog, so I posted under the "Travel" section of my website. If you want to hear my view about happenings at the largest art expo in the US, you'll have to click here!

I sing the feline electric

2010-11-18T06:38:00.006-05:00

Bran-Bran
1995-2010

Bran was the kitten who never grew up. Oh, he got older, but he was always ready for action, always prepared to create a little deviltry. His little motor was permanently set on extra-loud purr. Vets had to blow in his face to get him to shut up so they could listen to his heart.

When I first got Bran from the shelter I thought he'd be Branstookah, reborn. I was wrong. He was actually someone from Obiwan's past. Bran worshipped his older brother. I have lots of folders of pictures labelled "Bran and Obi," and few labelled just one or the other.

I'd been hoping Bran would be a pal to Bella, who was now without her beloved Morgan, but Bella wouldn't have anything to do with him. So I went out seeking a buddy for Bran and found Molly. It turned out she was probably a week younger than what her owners said, still a little too young for adoption, and when I got her home she was much smaller than Bran. I'd thought I'd gotten a like-sized kitten.

So Bran, in his exuberance, terrorized her. He was always trying to play rough and she could only try to hide—until she got older and grew larger than little Bran. She would hiss at him like crazy, but still he'd try to play. They both might not like to admit it, but they had a lot of kitten adventures together. And since Molly idolized Obi as well, they were the Three Musketeers when he was around.

When I moved to the new house I also had to move seven cats. I stuffed 'em all (except the timid, much-put-upon Bella) into the master bathroom and closed the door so the movers could come in, so I could keep track of them, etc. But when I turned my back, Bran—always the smallest—had slipped UNDER the door and zipped out into the strange yard.

I almost freaked out. There was no knowing how far he would run, confused not to be in the home he'd known all his life. So carefully I walked toward him, trying not to frighten him. He stood in the middle of the forest and meowed at me piteously, then came to me. He knew who his Mama was.

As the herd dwindled down to two, Bran's bond with Obi deepened. The two were inseparable, except when Obi got jealous. On the rare times when Bran wanted to be petted NOW, Obi would either slink away in a huff or nudge him out of the way.

Bran liked to go out at night and come back in when he thought breakfast should be served, so I got used to Obi changing sides of the bed. He'd try to be on my left by the pillow, but when Bran came in and jumped to that spot as well, thinking nothing about two cats piled on the same point (it just made things friendlier, didn't it?), Obi would move to the right. It got to be such a routine that Obi eventually changed places in the middle of the night so as not to be bothered in the morning. Bran would come in, purr purr purr (the loudest purr you've ever heard) (except that Moosie, on the rare times he purred, was louder), and then pat me gently on the nose or eyeball to inform me that it was breakfast time.

At night he had an uncanny sense of time. As I sat at the computer, pretending to write my novels, he'd come in at 8 and start patting my leg, proceeding to a scratch if I did not accede to his wishes, and scratch and scratch until I got up and distributed snackies like a good Mama does.

I often called him "my little Duck," because he loved the rain. The worse the storm, the more he wanted to go out. And of course if Mama was home, he'd skip the kitty door and sit at the front door, looking back at me, awaiting valet service from his human. Once out, he'd give a quick look around and race down to sit under the back of my car. (Unless I saw him inside before I left for work, I always slapped the back of the car to flush him out of the way.) Don't know how he accomplished it, but even in the worst of storms Bran would come back inside without a drop of water on him. Usually. Every so often he'd arrive drenched, and kick up a fuss when Mama toweled him off.

As Obi's health has declined (he's 18 now), I've worried a LOT about Bran. What would Bran do when Obi was gone? Would he be sentenced to long, lingering years of loneliness? It seems Bran didn't want that. Obi is old enough that he sleeps most of the time, and won't suffer as much, I think, from the separation as Bran would have.

It all went so fast. He'd slowed down in the past six weeks, enough for me to get bloodwork done, especially when he stopped being enthusiastic about his meals. He got more bloodwork last week, just before I left for Art of the Carolinas. When I got back on Saturday, he was not eating to a worrying degree, though he was drinking a lot of water. Then he started to bump into things as if he couldn't see well. His urine had blood in it. He got X-rays Monday morning, ultrasound Tuesday, and on Wednesday he made his last trip to the vet.

I got the impression that he had a huge group of friends waiting to welcome him to the Other Side. When I asked him about his next life, he said that he'd wait for Obi so they could go together. I hope that wherever they wind up, they have a lot of fun, a lot of places to explore, much sunlight to lie in, and much love to surround them.

Rumble in the Wonder—Marketing Smackdown!

2010-11-11T09:03:00.005-05:00

This column was originally run January 20, 2010, on comicbookresources.com .

With a "ho ho ho" in my heart and credit cards already smoking in my wallet, I set out in December to fulfill my Angel Tree kid's list. While the Angel Tree doesn't literally exist any more, its spirit lives on as an envelope of holiday wish lists from underprivileged area children.

I'd chosen someone who didn't want a Tour de France-ready bicycle or complete Wii system with snorkel and shotgun add-ons or $300 tennis shoes autographed by Michael Jordan (who, btw, lived in the next college dorm over from mine). (Okay, there's a five-year difference in graduation dates, but even so...)

My young Angel wanted a modest number of modestly priced items requiring both brain cells and motor skills to use. I approved and bought exactly that, but I wanted to add a little something extra to the pile. I was going to get her a gift that would not only help her in her reading, but introduce her to a lovely new world of fantasy and possibilities: a Wonder Woman children's book.

A few years ago Nina Jaffe and Ben Caldwell put out a playful series of Wonder Woman kiddie books through HarperFestival. They're out of print now (why???), but still around in used book stores. I checked 'em out online. Used copies in new condition went for at least $40. Ouch!

So instead, I wandered off to Wally World to get some other kind of Wonder gear for the Angel. Right past the store greeter stood a stand of kiddie "must-haves": cartoon character banks, nightlights, cereals, Band-Aids, toothbrushes, towels, backpacks, etc. Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Hulk, SpongeBob... and Dora the Explorer.

No Wondie.

A double-check of the toy and book sections confirmed the lack of Amazonian presence. Next, I tried the girls clothing department, where I caught a glimpse of a shirt with familiar scrolly logo and star-spangled burst. Hoorah! I made a beeline ("Bees! My god.") for it.

Instead of the Princess of Themyscira, it was a Hannah Montana shirt. Not only Hannah Montana, but a Hannah Montana who had confiscated the typestyle of the original WW logo as well as her TV background starburst pattern. Arrgh! What, doesn't HM make enough money without stealing it from others?

It didn't help that Dora was right beside her, smiling out from a rack of tees with those unnatural mutant eyes. That girl is everywhere!

I have nothing against Dora. She's a fine teaching tool, though the pacing of her stories needs to be speeded up if she wants to grab an Emmy for Best Drama. She teaches a second language almost as well as Rosetta Stone.

Like our Wonder Woman, Dora is kind to all. She's bright and curious. She befriends monkeys. She helps kids empower themselves.

But she ain't Wonder Woman.

I want my Wonder merchandise, and I want it now! Now! Where is it?

(above: The worlds of Bizarro Comics and the DCU both have a multitude of Wonder accessories available to their citizens. How I want that spangled rug!)

Oh, if you're into dollies—I mean action figures—there are a few Wonder Womans around sometimes if you dig far enough behind the displays of male figures. If you see someone running out of a toy store clutching an action figure box to his chest in an attempt to hide it, it's probably because the guy has just burrowed through ten packing boxes of male dolls to find the one WW doll that shipped and wants to avoid desperate WW fans who are willing to ignore peaceful Gaea's Way to get it.

(You can tell these desperate fans by the axes they carry. The "Lord of the Rings" label has been crossed out with a Sharpie, and instead "Wonder Woman" is scrawled there in a red that may or may not be Sharpie ink.)

If you're into sculptures and fancy non-action dolls, there are a few of those as well, produced on occasion by companies who charge gigantor bucks for their limited runs. For some reason, many of these models are loaded to bear with non-standard frou-frous, axes and swords, or a prostitute-ready Wondie suit. Why is this? Does anyone ever see an action figure of Superman that wears trousers? Spider-Man with a gun? Batman in just leather straps and black socks?

Every now and then an inexpensive but nice plastic figure will come out and I'll snap it up. But I want more!

I want to go to a novelty shop and buy a car license plate with holographic stars that says "1DR WMN." I want a purse with a shoulder strap that's actually a golden lasso. I want a Kanga Burger in my Happy Meal, with a Wonder Tot toy on the side. I want a star spangled iPhone with wireless Mental Radio capability. There's an app for that. I want an inflatable, battery-operated Steve Trevor to satisfy all my personal wishes, if you get my drift. I want a bunch of classic songs that tell me not to tug on Wonder Woman's shorts, or that Wondie ain't got a-nothin' on me; or hear a TV show's theme asking Wonder Woman to "saaaaaaave me!" or tell me that some sitcom's lead character is no Wonder Woman.

Why isn't Diana wake surfing beside Disney's booming "Princess" wave?

I want to be able to buy a WW tee shirt off the same everyday store shelf that sells a tee with a big "S" symbol on it. I want pink tees with "S" symbols banned by law and red shirts with =W='s worn instead. I don't want WW school supplies to be so rare that coworkers on vacation in West Virginia run to my cubicle first thing on their return to announce the sighting of a WW notebook at a Target in Bluefield.

Wonder Woman shouldn't be the spotted owl of comic book merchandising. She's an ICON. Non-geek people easily recognize and approve of her. One-half of today's kids are female, and thus presumably in her prime doodad demographic market, though a heck of a lot of males are interested in Wondie as well (for whatever reasons). (See inflatable and battery-powered, above.)

Why are they all being ignored?

Apparently there's a firm line between what's considered girlie stuff and what's not. My Xmas shopping revealed a Lego set packaged in pink plastic and marketed to girls. "All the Legos inside are girl colors," a clerk explained. "Pink, white, purple, orange, yellow..." I'd been aware of the stigma against a perfectly good pink (or as the pink-clad Cosmic Boy once put it, "Pale scarlet"), but hadn't known about the yang-repelling qualities of these other colors.

Guess we won't be hearing the advertising phrase, "These trucks are Amazon tough!" any time soon. Wonder Woman has to overcome the onus of being female before she can market certain things.

Why such a gender gap? Females are still very much thought of as the inferior sex, and anything to do with them is not to be touched by the male of the species. The two genders are kept separated and unequal, else civilization will crumble. Should we be encouraging that antiquated idea?

Marketing is not about creating social change, but rather profiting from what's out there already. So here goes: an idea as to how to market Wonder Woman to the hilt in today's world. Given: a nation of couch potatoes. Everyone's up in arms about it: get those lazy kids to exercise! Just don't expect me to get up to help.

DC should consider the marketing possibilities here: Would Superman work? He's from another planet. He automatically has superpowers, even if he lies around all day watching Spike TV and drinking beer. He's no example, no spokesman for health. Batman? Doesn't he get all the marketing already? Time to spread the Bat-Wealth. Besides, he's too cool to exercise. Best to give a kid a Batman video game and pray he doesn't learn anti-social behavior from it as he melds with his couch and decapitates someone onscreen with his virtual Batarang.

But Wonder Woman... Before the Modern Era, she was well-known for citing "Amazon Training" as a source of her power. Surely it involved unleashing the power of the mind as well as the body—just look at what she could do!

But it did involve physical training, which would naturally tie into exercise apparel, equipment, videos and programs of all kinds. Can't you just picture all the star-spangled sweat bands people could wear on wrists and forehead? Any weekend athlete would have fun wearing a yellow baseball cap with a red star front and center. Sweatsuits and gym clothes could be emblazoned with spangles, golden eagles, and red, white and blue. Patriotism, health and the Wonder fantasy, all in one!

Lynda Carter could take a break from her nightclub act to become a spangled gym franchise spokesperson. Be a Wonder Woman at Curves!

The Wii could show you as Wonder Woman (or Warrior) her/himself, as you exercised in a mythological environment. You could take a break from jumping jacks to jog after a criminal or monster, then lasso and reform him. (Possibly through the energetic Dance of Loving Submission.)

The US Army got a lot of air time with their "Be all you can be" campaign. How about the (US) President's Council on Physical Fitness and Sports encouraging kids to "Be a Wonder!"?

Wonder Woman herself comes with a lot of cool toys. Why not play off these? Offer a remote-controlled Invisible Plane–tricky to figure where it is, but almost impossible to return to the store for a refund. Any girl or boxer would love her magic lasso jumprope, especially if it glowed in the dark. Wonder jewelry would include star earrings and silver bracelets. Kids could eat Amazon-powered vitamins, Paradise Island yogurt, maybe even Wonder bread.

And some day, some very special day...Sheldon on "The Big Bang Theory" will show up in a Wondie tee instead of those dowdy Green Lantern, Flash and Superman things he tends to. Ah, dreams!

So what did I wind up getting as my Angel Tree kid's extra gift? A Dora book. Sigh. Maybe next year...

Strickly a Book Review

2010-10-23T08:09:00.005-04:00

A Hellion in Her Bed
by Sabrina Jeffries
Pocket Star Books Romance
4 1/2 spangles out of five
Regency Romance
Heat: We get a couple of pretty hot scenes here, per the genre requirement.

It's so good to see Sabrina back in top form! With her new "Hellions of Halstead Hall" series, she seems imbued with crackling new enthusiasm. And when Sabrina gets enthusiastic, her readers are enthralled.

This is volume 2 of the series. If you recall Volume 1, we have five aristocratic (but broke) children of the Regency era who lost their mother and father under mysterious circumstances. Their grandmother raised them, and they have not turned out quite as she hoped. Now that she's an old woman, she declares that all five must marry within a year or she will not bequeath her wealth to them.

The mystery of Mom and Dad's murders/suicides/whatevers now gets one more set of clues as Son #2, Jarret, steps into the spotlight. His grandmother's dreams for him interfered with his own so long ago that now he takes his frustrations out by gambling incessantly. Fortunately for him, he's fairly good at it. But when Gran gets sick and makes a deal with him to take over her brewery business, he begins to rediscover a childhood passion.

Speaking of passion, here comes Annabel from up north, a brewster in her own right, as some ladies were actually allowed to be back then. She's got family problems. Big family problems. And like Jarret, she faces the possibility of her brewery going under before long—but with her, every hope of her family retaining any money at all will be lost.

There's a positive crescendo of sparks between the hero and heroine, who are held back by one of those awful Family Secrets from grabbing their happiness straight off.

The pacing on this is speedy. It's one of those books where you have to drag yourself into work each morning because you stayed up far too late the previous night reading. The plot works extremely well, and there are character complications that can only arise when characters have multiple layers, as they do here. Plus the 12-year-old boy who appears seems to be an actual 12-year-old boy, and not one of those angelic little kid-a-trons that one so often finds in fiction.

Pack up this one in your reticule and take it somewhere where you can settle with a lovely cup of tea to peruse it at leisure! Next up will be Minerva, the scandalous novel writer of the family. Can't wait!

Living by a River

2010-10-20T07:52:00.007-04:00

[It's a very special day! Not only does "Strickly Speaking" get its very first guest-blogger, Nancy Lennea, but her book, Destiny's Mountain, is being released today! Let's hear her talk about what inspired her. —Strick]

by Nancy Lennea

Tree swings, sandy beaches, sunny summer afternoons…I grew up within walking distance of the Long Island Sound and learned to swim at an early age. A young girl’s confidence to swim and snorkel while gathering hermit crabs morphed into a teen’s lazy weekend dates at the ocean on Long Island’s southern shore. The waves were intense, but I grew confident in my ability to stay afloat or to dive beneath the breakers.

Everything changed after college when I met and married a New Hampshire man. We settled in Rumney, a small town, population-wise (under 2,000), but large in acreage (over 42 square miles). Lakes and mountains filled this area and we bought our first house within walking distance of both the Stinson River and the much larger Baker River. Even back then, I filed away these memories. Many of these images came to mind when I sat down to write DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN, my latest release from Red Rose Publishing.

My husband and I soon discovered a sandy beach beside the new Baker River bridge. We brought our two dogs. The brother and sister were mutts we adopted from the pound (the family joke is they were practice before we thought about having a child).

I remember quite clearly swimming when the male accidently clawed my hand. As we loaded them back into the car, I noticed the diamond was no longer sitting in my engagement ring! My husband and I, ever hopeful, ran back to the water. This is when we discovered that the sandy bottom is made up of crushed gravel, river rocks, and…mica! Mica shines like diamonds. Finding my tiny stone among the thousands of sparkling bits of mica was a lost cause.

Years later, when our sons grew older, a time came when my rapid heartbeats mirrored the moment I lost my precious diamond. My oldest wanted to go swimming with his friends. In the river. Without me.

There comes a time in every mother’s life when she has to let go. Allowing my young son to go swimming without me put my confidence to the test. Had his father and I taught him to swim well? Could I trust the other boys not to hurt him? Would he break an arm swinging from the rope swing? Would a canoeist paddle around the bend and crash into him?

My husband and I had ensured our sons learned to swim from an early age. We visited relatives who had pools or took us to the ocean. Every trip to a hotel included a pool and my sons enjoyed every minute. Did anything happen to either child at the swimming hole? Not a thing. An ounce of prevention made sure everything went well. They will remember their hot summer days spent with their friends down at the old swimming hole on the Baker River.

The Baker River is a popular canoeing destination in the spring and early summer before the levels get too low to navigate. After hearing so much about it, we became the new owners of my father-in-law’s fiberglass canoe. After patching holes and repainting it, we strapped the huge canoe onto the minivan’s roof. The boys wore borrowed life jackets, and we packed a cooler and towels. Wearing shorts over our bathing suits, we parked one car at the swimming hole and headed to West Rumney.

It took over three hours to go what would have taken us fifteen minutes to drive. But what fun was had during those three hours! As a family, we worked together and took turns paddling, watching wildlife, and picking spots where we could stop for a swim or a lunch break. Memories like that will stay with us forever.

---
Fear is a strange thing. It changes everything. There is only one place where I actually enjoy fear. That place is in a book.

Some people are naturally fearless, like my heroine in DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN. She skinny-dips under a gushing waterfall. My hero stumbles upon her. Lots could happen…and it does! I use fear a lot more later in the book, set in a quirky New Hampshire college town nestled beside a river and eerie mountains. A couple of stalkers, a murder, mountain rescues, and wildlife give me ample opportunities to scare my readers.

DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN recalls that time in my life when the mountains called to me and the river calmed me. I swam in it, canoed down it, photographed it, raised a family near it, and painted it. Its fearsome springtime currents and gentler summer coolness helped me create a manuscript that will keep my readers on the edge of their seats while giving them a happy ever after. Read on!

BOOK BLURB

In a quirky college town surrounded by the mountains of New Hampshire, new art history professor Jacob Oliver hikes a trail on a crisp September morning. Divorced and forced out of his job with the Boston Police due to a horrific accident, he spots a naked woman beneath a majestic waterfall. Escaping, he falls and re-injures his knee.

Destiny Blake hears a noise; someone is on her mountain. She finds a handsome man sitting in the mud. Love blooms and lust consumes them after she helps him to the safety of her cabin. Soon assumptions tear them apart, leaving her vulnerable to the unwanted attentions of other men.

When Jacob decides he cannot live without her, he must save her from a madman who chases her up her mountain through the cold, snowy darkness of a November night. Ghostly voices push Jacob onward, while another spirit’s voice urges Destiny to fight back. Pain, hypothermia, and death threaten before the sun rises. Can Destiny and Jacob make it off Destiny’s Mountain…alive?

EXCERPT

Much later, Destiny reheated his coffee, returning the mug to him as he lay blissfully content on her bed. Her slim fingers wrapped his knee with the bandage while her silky lips kissed him from toe to thigh.

Watching her, Jacob sipped his coffee. Suddenly exhausted, he set the mug on her nightstand then relaxed back into her pillow. Even from there, her hair smelled sweet as it cascaded over her shoulders and between the lovely breasts visible inside her robe.

Destiny stood with her hands on her hips. “Your only mission today is to rest. I washed and dried your clothes. I’ll drive you home whenever you wish. I also called the police.”

Jacob’s body stiffened suddenly.

“Relax. I told them what happened in case you were missed and let them know your car is parked at the trailhead.”

“Thanks. I never thought to call them.”

“I didn’t know your license plate, and you didn’t tell me the color, but I suppose there aren’t too many Land Rovers around here.”

“It’s a bit ostentatious, but I used to take trips into the mountains and—”

“And?”

“Long story.” Why bring up painful memories now? He saw no need to dwell on things long dead, like his perfect life—before my accident.

“If you want, we can call a tow truck, but the police don’t plan to ticket you.” She bent over the bed and pulled the sheets and blanket up over his chest. When she ran her fingers down the long scar on his forearm, her gaze shot up and locked on his.

“How did this happen?” She turned off the radio, then sat beside him, still caressing the wound.

“I chased a robbery suspect across a rooftop. The surface had turned to glass due to a recent ice storm. I took a ride down the roof and landed in a scraggly stand of trees. The trees won.” He forced a smile.

She stared, wide-eyed.

He shrugged it off, downplaying the event. Still, when he glanced at her shadowed profile, he recognized her concern in the lowering of her eyelashes and her unusual silence. Reaching up, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Robbery suspect?”

“Guess I forgot to mention I used to be a cop. A lifetime ago,” he sighed.

“And now you’re a teacher? How? Why?”

“I had a bad accident while in a car chase and broke my leg. Crushed it pretty bad, actually.” Jacob rubbed his thigh through the covers, then tangled his fingers in the silken strands of her honey-gold hair. A foreign sense of peace washed over him.

“I thought I had fully healed, and then this happened.” He laid his head back against the headboard. Regret for the past cramped his stomach.

“Do you miss being a police officer?”

“I regret having been forced out. That fateful night spun into a turning point in my life. A very unhappy turning point.”

“Well, you’re definitely not the geek or stuffy teacher I expected you to be when I first saw you at the dining hall.”

“You’ve seen me before? How the hell did I ever miss you?”

Tell us about Nancy

Nancy grew up on New York’s Long Island then attended college in the beautiful mountains of New Hampshire. She worked during college in the dining hall while earning a degree in art education. She met her husband on campus and they raised a family in a nearby town. She volunteered as an EMT/firefighter on the Rumney fire department then worked for the State of New Hampshire as a 9-1-1 Emergency Medical Dispatcher. Retired from public service, Nancy now writes full time, lives in North Carolina, and is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, Celtic Heart Romance Writers, and Sisters-in-Crime. She also writes paranormal romance, such as her recent release, DRAGON’S CURSE, as Nancy Lee Badger.

How can readers buy your book?

DESTINY’S MOUNTAIN releases today and is available for download from Red Rose Publishing. The buy link is: http://bit.ly/a4NOHE
Visit my website at: www.nancylennea.com
Visit my blog at: www.nancylennea-inlove.blogspot.com

Of Gods and Capes

2010-10-12T08:40:00.007-04:00

This column originally appeared Nov. 17, 2009 at Comic Book Resources.com.

Why do people worship a god? What sets a god apart from humans?

The answer seems fairly obvious but for some people it is a subtle distinction, even in our real world. But what about a world, a multiplex of universes, where hordes of beings run around with what we’d consider god-like power?

The DCU [DC Comics universe] contains heroes who can theoretically (if you twist physics on its ear) juggle planets with their pinkies. There are folks who effortlessly travel back and forth through time, who contain the power of entire suns within themselves, who can command reality to change in the blink of an eye.

Gods, right? Nope, they’re something called superheroes. Or supervillains, depending on where their personal moral boundaries lie.

But in the DCU and within the Wonder Woman mythos especially, there are also beings called “gods.” Wondie specializes in the Greek Olympian pantheon, but she’s also palled around with Egyptian, Roman, Norse, Indian, and Hawaiian gods. There’ve been strange folks as well who called themselves “New Gods.”

Perhaps the primary differentiation between gods and superheroes is the matter of worship. Oh sure, Wonder Woman has had a few worshippers, and I believe Superman has as well, but these were isolated incidents. You know, some people will worship anything and drink grape Kool-Aid to celebrate their high holidays.

But why shouldn’t people of the DCU worship their superfolk if they have the same powers as gods?

Gods make covenants with their worshippers. They’ll take care of them. They’ll give them riches or health or the perfect love. They’ll grant some form of eternal life. They’ll make their crops come in abundantly, and cause terrible storms to back off.

Gee, that’s sort of like what superheroes do, only they do it because it’s the right thing to do and not because they want to be worshipped.

Back before science had been conceived, people needed explanations for why life worked the way it did. Thus they created (or discovered) gods and worshipped them in order to make life better.

In the DCU’s Ancient Greece, apparently, people began to forget the gods, for the Olympians created a superior race (formed around used souls, sort of like a heavenly chop-shop) whose mission it would be to bring humans and their worship back to the gods. Thus we discover (1) that the gods need worship to power themselves, and (2) the origin of the Amazon race.

These Amazons were set in Greece to bring the metaphorical sheep back to the fold. Can’t you hear them now as they go door to door?

“Hail, brother Leonidas! Have you heard the Good Word about Gaea’s Way? Our head priestess has prepared a pamphlet we’d like to leave with you...”

Needless to say, the peaceful Amazons learned the art of defense quickly.

The Greeks attacked the Amazons in larger and larger numbers until by necessity they became experts in war. One god, Ares, actually set in motion the downfall of the nation that was supposed to have helped his family regain their power. The Amazons lost their way for a time but were allowed to return to their gods’ good graces if they guarded the world from terrible recurring threats coming through Doom’s Doorway.

Even with this loyal nation’s worship, the Olympian gods retreated for centuries (saving power?), only to emerge in these past few years within the DCU to counter Ares’ new plots for world domination. With the birth of Wonder Woman humanity once again knew the Olympian gods were alive and ready to be worshipped.

But now there were so many others with similar power: Superman and all his ilk, Martians, Daxamians, wizards of unimaginable might, scientists who could bottle the secrets of the universe.

Often gods have been seen to be as easy as a supervillain to vanquish. There have been rare exceptions that have raised a bit of a sweat on those involved. But should gods be on a par with superhumans? Shouldn’t they exist on an entire level above them, if not two or three? Shouldn’t there be a distinct difference between gods and capes?

(At left: Steve Ditko's version of Aphrodite and Athena. Not very imposing, are they? Construction paper hearts, bah!)

I would like to propose some definitions:

• Gods don't wear garish Spandex or sport colorful capes. Gods don’t need to attract attention by what they wear; they attract attention by what they are.

[After I posted this list on the CBR MBs Walter Simonson replied to this rule and "Do you hear me, New Gods?" comment with:

"They do hear you, Carol. But really, gods wear whatever they want to.

"Believe me...I know."

I believe that out of all the comics professionals in the world, he would indeed be the one to know.

(But in this instance he's wrong.) (Or at least he is on my web pages! Mine! Mine!)]

• Gods exist across dimensional lines. Aphrodite on Earth-1 (whatever it’s now called) = Aphrodite on Earth-2 and Earth-52. She is the same entity, though the flavor may vary slightly from dimension to dimension.

• Gods are aspects of nature and human interests and as such can change their appearance to suit the angle they're working on. Thus we can have both a helmet-wearing Athena and one who totes a Kindle. They just don’t do it wearing Spandex.

• Gods are rarely accessible. We will not see Amazons going up to Olympus every day for afternoon tea or Diana strolling with the god of her choice. Gods are called by extremely high ceremony and MAY mistily appear or not, or may only speak through an oracle.

• Usually when a god wants to make an appearance, they take on the form of a known human and speak to the person they want to. Then the god leaves and the person may spot the friend elsewhere whose form the god took, then realize that they must have been talking with a god. Lately Gail Simone has been having gods speaking through existing humans using fancy-fontted speech, which is also quite acceptable, if often difficult to read.

• Gods work behind the scenes. A sharp-eyed Amazon may see the ghostly image of Artemis when she looks at the moon, or perceive the presence of Hephaestus when working at the forge, inspiring her. Batman won’t see anything mystical because he’s not a believer. (This is the Field of Dreams concept at work and was utilized well in The Hiketeia.)

• If things are dire enough that a god has to make a personal appearance, the human greeting said god should have shoes off, knees on the ground, eyes averted, and speak humbly if they dare speak at all.

• Though a superbeing may create big things or lift big things or destroy them, only a god (besides being able to do the same) can imbue those objects with purpose. A godly weapon, for example, would be the same as any other weapon, but it has a particular purpose which thus gives it greater ability to accomplish such.
Subclause 1: Godly weapons are extremely rare and not at all as common as kryptonite or Starbucks.
Subclause 2: The person who wields a godly weapon must be extremely skilled and/or powerful enough to handle said weapon. One cannot just pick up a god-forged axe off a subway seat and conquer the world with it. Likely one would accidentally hack oneself to death with it instead. Perhaps the weapon would be programmed to harm those who dare touch it without being of high enough caliber.

• Gods have limits. Greater gods have fewer limits than lesser gods. These should be defined.

• Gods are much more emo than regular characters. They have shorter fuses as well. They do not believe in Dr. Phil. They will strike down their enemies quickly and harshly, though they may regret things after their enemies have died. Gods do not forgive well at all. This is why ceremonies to call them have to be so complex, to show the gods that their worshippers are 100% supportive of them and their inflexible egos. It is a small miracle that Diana has "talked down" some gods in her time.

• Gods are as immortal and as powerful as the concepts they represent. Worship also plays a percentage in powering them, but the state of that universal concept is the real power. Remember that gods exist across dimensional lines, so even though, say, Isis isn't widely popular on Earth-1, on Earth-17.5 she's the big kahuna, and so her power gets a good boost from that worship. Earth 46.88 doesn't have any war, so Ares doesn't get any boost from that corner. On Earth 3.14159 Ares was never worshipped but there's an awful lot of war so his presence is felt there and powered up across the multiverse.
Subclause: So you think there are only 52 universes? Just wait a while. DC’s lack of continuity assures us that there are at least a few more out there.

• Gods cannot travel through time in a non-normal manner. This would allow them to gain control of every situation, correct their mistakes, and change history. If a schlub like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day can manage to change himself, his future, and that of several other characters while dealing with one small day’s worth of time travel, imagine what even the most minor god could do if they could travel through time. Let’s leave this meddling to scientific human-types using time bubbles and whatnot. In fact, let’s say that gods cannot even utilize a device like a time bubble.

• One thing comics gods can NEVER do is create a soul. This is reserved for some consciousness far, far above their level. Gods can create stuff and animate it, but it won't contain true life. (That's not to say that a wandering soul couldn't possess that stuff...) Can the Source create souls? Perhaps, but DC’s Source (from Jack Kirby’s New Gods mythos) has always seemed namby-pamby to me, too low-level, mean and downright goofy to be taken seriously. OTOH, Gaea might begin to have the power to create a soul. Maybe.

• There are beings who call themselves New Gods. Their magic does not arise from eternal cosmic concepts, but rather from mega-advanced technology. People like Granny Goodness don’t have any personal powers that we’ve really seen, though she, like most of the New Gods, can utilize some of their tech. (They can press buttons.) A handful of them are very advanced but only Darkseid hovers on the brink of minor godhood. He’s not there yet, though he thinks he is.

So what’s your definition for how a god is distinctly different from a supercape? Or do you think there’s an advantage to the two concepts existing on the same level?

Strickly a Book Review

2010-10-10T08:38:00.009-04:00

Amazon Ink
by Lori Devoti
Pocket Books Fantasy
4 spangles out of five (actually a 3.85, but I've rounded up)
Heat: No explicit sex. Violence level isn't gory, either.

First, thanks to Nancy Northcott, who offered the sequel of this volume to me, a series I'd been unaware of, thinking (for some odd reason :^D ) that a Wonder Wacko would be interested. I hate to come in on the middle of things and so started with Book 1 of the Amazons series.

It took some effort to get into this book. It wasn't because of the actual prose, which is tight with vivid description and snappy dialogue. The heroine, Melanippe (Mel), is one of those über-grim urban fantasy types, harboring lots of resentment to the Amazon society she's left. You know the typical urban fantasy chick: they react with their more-than-human fists. Say hello, how are ya? and they punch your lights out. A guy asks if they want to go out for a cup of coffee, and they kick them where it'll hurt most. Anger, anger, anger. The anger, of course, leads these ladies to discovering that they hold even more power within themselves than they had imagined, so that in the end they can inflict more damage. There seems to be little deep brain activity in these femmes. Check out the current run of Wonder Woman to see an unfortunate variation on the type.

Wonder Woman is not an urban fantasy chick. Or at least when they try to make her such, she thus becomes not-Wonder Woman.

The use of the name "Melanippe" was a grabber for me. One of my favorite characters in the Plastic Age WW, despite her crying jags, was the oracle Menalippe, whose name obviously was misspelled from the classic Amazon. I liked seeing her proper name used here. Is that a strange reason?

Now Mel lives rather isolated, running a tattoo parlor in Madison, Wisconsin with her mother and grandmother (warrior and sorceress respectively) and is a sore disappointment to both. She also has a young daughter who barely shows up in the book, far less than she should to be such an important cast member. The daughter is a cypher to us and also to herself, as she doesn't know her Amazon heritage, which Mel has kept secret. (In this kind of environment and with the powers these people employ, how is that accomplished, exactly?)

The book is a murder mystery with serial killings. Mel is the prime suspect, both among the Amazons and the Madison police.

It takes quite some time to discover just what these Amazons are, how they might function (still largely unexplained by the end of the book, but we learn enough to figure out some of the relationships), and that various sets of powers/skills appear to the members of their all-female society. Everyone gets one set. Except a few, and that's where I continued to be confused. Mel, it seems. is one of those multiple-skills folks and she's growing in power in the sorcery department.

And yes, it is undefined sorcery, though there's an attempt in there to try to define it. I'll give the author points for that, but I still detest the use of undefined magick.

So the world-building is very vague for the first, oh, third of the book, and deep characterization is non-existent, so as I said, it makes it difficult to stay with the book. But at some point I began to wonder what would come next and how Mel would straighten out her various relationships. What came next proved interesting and kept me in the story. Unfortunately, Mel and her relationships are left as murky as Mel herself. She begins and ends a creature of resentment, anger and revenge, with motherly feelings toward her daughter (and another, whom you'll discover in the book), and (of course, per urban fantasy rules and the best thing about that sub-genre) two romantic possibilities. But this is not a romance at all, so don't go looking for that kind of thing here. (Even though Mel suddenly and for little if any reason goes all mushy any time she encounters a non-handicapped male. I found that disconcerting.)

So: started off not very interesting, but somewhere in there was interesting enough to read to the end. I'm semi-tempted to pick up the next volume to see if the emphasis on charting this Amazon culture stays the primary focus, or if the characters get some depth to them and learn to operate from something other than angry reaction.

Plein Air — FAIL!

2010-10-08T16:29:00.006-04:00

It's been a rough week. I've been on vacation—good thing! Because everything's been happening! But today was a little... well, something-er than the other days this week. Not quite sure yet, but it may be a positive "something."

It began with me figuring out when to get up. Y'see, yesterday the doc diagnosed Bran-Bran with liver disease and sent us home with a mountain of meds. Obi's got kidney and intestine problems, and yesterday we discovered that both cats had yeast infections in their ears.

So I was trying to figure out when to get up because Bran needs to get a pill BEFORE breakfast, by at the very least 5 minutes, in case he decides to throw it back up. But Bran's used to having breakfast as soon as my feet hit the rug beside the bed. He was outside this morning (which has been his usual place to be up to about a month ago), and trotted in. I grabbed him at the door, shoved a large pill down his gullet, and he took it as if this were an ordinary occurrence. Mind you, my hands stink because of all the chlorine due to the well project.

Bran and Obi let me toodle around the house for a few minutes before serving them breakfast. Breakfast is now sprinkled with their herpes med. Since they didn't eat their special food (low protein for Obi; high protein for Bran) last night, I used regular food packets, added to Obi's low-protein kibbles. After breakfast Bran gets his antibiotic and another kind of antibiotic. Obi gets a quarter heart pill. Both get treats.

I'd (barely) finished my State Fair painting yesterday, including a late-night varnish, and this morning proceeded to frame it. Then I packed for a plein air excursion to Cary, the first I've been able to put on my schedule with a painting group, since they only do this on Tuesday and Friday mornings. Tough for those with full-time jobs to attend.

I jumped in the shower and jumped out soon after. The water is quite hard now, difficult to get anything to suds up. "Hard" also as in you have to scrub at it to make it flow off you. The chlorine smell isn't gangbusters any more, and the water's no longer dark brown (except on occasion), but there was a sudden, permeating smell that sucked the oxygen out of me. I had to keep sticking my head out of the shower to breathe, and finally cut the conditioner short so I could escape.

Mind you, I know the dangers of combining chlorine and ammonia, but that makes an odorless gas and I hadn't been using ammonia anywhere. My elderly aunt once cleaned her bathroom with chlorox and ammonia, and her daughter found her in time to drag her out into the open air with minimal lung damage.

Don't know what this was. I've been running the hot water in there a couple times today hoping that'll take care of it. (Windows are open; fabulous day!)

Jumped in the car (late!!!), grabbed some snacks for later, and followed Mapquest directions to Cary's Hemlock Bluff Nature Preserve. Mapquest of course was wrong, but they were close. I scouted the location for a good place to set up, leaving my equipment behind. There were two painters at the top of the trail down to "Swift Creek," which was where I wanted to paint. We introduced ourselves and I continued on to see the creek. With the tropical storm recently past us I expected burbling liveliness.

Instead what I found was a long puddle. And that was after about 3000 STEEP steps down, down, down. I could never get my equipment down there, and if by some miracle I did, I'd definitely never get it up the bluff again. So I returned to the painters, we had a lovely chat as they were working on some very nice paintings, and then I proceeded on to the State Fairgrounds.

One of the nicest things about entering the State Fair art contest is that so many people behind the tables will complement your work. As a painter who lives alone, I rarely get any comments, much less good ones, so this was great. One lady said she always loved my paintings. Gee! Almost bought a sausage dog from a vendor on the way out (they're feeding the set-up folks), but that splurge will have to wait until next week and the actual fair.

Instead I stopped off at Briar Creek on the way home and, tired of the usual fast food in my home parts, got a Mediterranean lunch that was quite good. Topped it off with an Orange Julius. Haven't had one of those in years. It was watered down but still good.

But before that as long as I was at the fairgrounds, I zipped down the road to the NC Museum of Art to see their new, expanded digs. They look like airplane hangars. And the parking lot that was near the main entrance? It's now auxiliary parking, and the old, long-walk parking lot is the way to go. I'll remember next time.

The old building is under renovation now, so I only saw the new place. It's quite different on the inside: high ceilings and lots of walls for paintings. I wish I had those kind of walls. There's a Rodin gallery that leads out to a Rodin garden, I guess, with a long lily pond, bamboo plantings, and a handful of statues. Man, Rodin liked big hands and feet! The people looked like large Hobbits. And there was one lady all twisted around that was clearly pornographic. No joke. She was holding one leg up very awkwardly with the sole purpose of showing off her privates. Sheesh!

After all that excitement I got home and tried to take a nap, but due to all the walking/climbing done today (Ha! Daily exercise completed with bonus points!), my newly-diagnosed pinched nerve was acting up and I didn't want to take a pain pill in case I go out this afternoon. Which I will.

Because I've got to get some bags of dirt and fertilizer to replace the dug-up bushes and such around the patio. The entire thing won't be done, but I do want what's out of the ground back in, and the pots o' plants I've had sitting during the drought, waiting for better days, planted. But the patio cleaned my accounts out. Heck, just the vet bills would have done a job on my last paycheck. Did I really need the dirt? Yes!

Just checked the bank balance. Waitaminnit. That's wrong. That shows I have money. Surprise! We must have gotten a stock disbursement today; the amount and account were right for that. Whew. Bills can now be paid. A few bags of dirt can be bought. Thank you, universe!

For dinner both cats got just their prescriptive dinners. Both turned up their noses. Obi's was sprinkled with generic Metamucil and both got the herpes sprinkle again. Later on Obi will need to get his subcutaneous fluids injected, both will get ear drops, Obi will have another quarter heart pill, and then there are snackies and, "Good boy!"

So that brings us to the weekend, in a place where I thought I'd be for last weekend. I'll be dealing with the plants and (hopefully) finishing up a portrait. I was thinking about getting some plein air painting in tomorrow, but will see how work progresses and try to hit that Sunday morning. We're having beautiful, sunny weather and there is a little bit of color in the trees. It'd be a sin to waste that, even if I am lagging behind.

Today's plein air attempt may have been a bust, but it gave me a great idea about how to handle the remaining walkways in my yard. The nature preserve lined their walkways with 4x4s and filled in with bark mulch. I can do that, and it will cost less than 10% of what concrete would. Plus it'll be much more eco-friendly.

So what started off as a frantic, disappointing day has turned into an interesting adventure with some nice photos from my nature walk. It's been quite different from a normal day, and I even wind up in the black! Can't beat that.

Whoops, I forgot to give Bran his Clavamox. It's got to be given when he eats. If he turned up his nose at his prescription dinner, does that count? I'd give him some treats to fill his tummy, but am saving those for after the ear drops tonight. Decisions, decisions! (Later note: he threw up the Clavamox immediately.)

Ever have one of those days?

Ca-CHIIINGGG!! (ouch!)

2010-10-06T20:53:00.008-04:00

I've tried all kinds of ways to control the weeds in my backyard, which is also my septic field. I've had bulldozers come through twice, but the weeds eventually prevailed. Closer to the house, I once had a crew who swore they could smooth out the terrain, make matters so bad I couldn't even DREAM of getting a lawn mower through. So the weeds grew. And grew.

Finally I decided the time was right to go for that back patio. I mean, just get an estimate. A friend at work, who had previously recommended some real idiots (and who eventually admitted that the guys were idiots when they did a second job for her) recommended a guy from her church who built in-ground swimming pools professionally. As a sideline he did other concrete work, like patios.

So last winter he came over to give me an estimate. I knew the costs would be astronomical, but I just wanted to know what neighborhood such a project would be in. I used landscape paint to outline my dream patio. Surprisingly, he estimated a price I could come up with by spring if I scrimped! Wow!

Spring came and he came back to confirm. His price doubled. If this hadn't been a recommended guy, I would have waved bye-bye to him. I explained there was no way I could afford the patio now, but by fall I could. He tried to pressure me into doing it right then, another danger signal. Sorry. Please call back in the Fall.

On the way home, he stopped and phoned me. If I could give him a sizable deposit now, he'd freeze the price, no matter how the cost of concrete might skyrocket. Against my better judgment—I mean, what was I thinking?—I accepted. And his price was now $500 more than it had been a half-hour before.

No, no, no, this isn't the way to deal with contractors! But still, the winter price had been astoundingly low. This was probably reasonable. I tried not to beat myself up too much about it. And I cancelled all plans to go to RWA Nationals or on a vacation I'd had my eye on for a couple years. This would clean out ye savings pretty well. (Don't tell Suze Orman!)

The project was scheduled for last week. A medium-sized crew arrived to begin making forms. Apparently there'd be no digging down; the concrete would rest on the ground as is. But then Tropical Storm Nicole came through with about five inches of rain. The ground was too soggy for concrete.

Yesterday a full crew arrived before dawn. It was a vacation week for me, but I couldn't sleep in. The truck carried three loads all in all (24 cubic yards), and everything got poured. After a while the crew pulled most of the forms off and then applied a broom finish.

Today work began at about 9 (while the cats and I were at the vet$). There was cleanup work to be done, expansion joints to be sawn, hosing-off of the surfaces, and more flowers to be trampled.

Oh, did I mention the trampling? The crew's original way to get into the back yard was deemed too soggy to travel, so they came in through the side flower garden via path and plantings. My trellis had to be dismantled (bye bye clematis) and moved.

Then the low, decorative cement block walls in the back came apart, to be tossed into my iris beds. Brick edging was tossed willy-nilly. Bye-bye, rose bushes and daylilies. Don't know how or why they got back into the baby hydrangeas I'd been nursing through the drought, but they did. At least I'd moved a few azaleas that were in their original route's way, so those survived. I will give them points for digging up my favorite azalea and moving it, but they tried hard to mutilate the lovely rhododendron next to it.

But the patio's done now. Our contractor, a very friendly guy, happened to hear about a problem with my bathtub drain and fixed it (it was much more difficult than he'd thought) (he's licensed for plumbing), and when I asked him to reiterate the steps in how to chlorinate a well because I was going to do that the next day, he gleefully dumped the supershock into my well, though I wasn't prepared in the least for immediate chlorination (no drinking water! No washing water! Luckily, I'd done laundry the night before, or I'd be out of clothes). I'd planned on doing some scrubby house-cleaning, which was now out. And I ran back to stop the guy hosing down the concrete next to the fish pond. Chlorine and fishies don't mix.

(The bench above overlooks my small pond, which the contractor is keen to do a waterfall for next year.)

Everything concrete-wise looks great. Oh, I'll need to hire a crew to come in and help raise the ground level to be flush with the cement (more ca-ching), which will be difficult because THE JOB TOOK $400 MORE THAN HE SAID IT WOULD and he never asked when the time came to go over the total we'd agreed on. (He didn't charge for the drain and chlorination, which would have cost about $400, though I'd planned on doing the chlorination myself. Oh well.) There's a low spot on the patio around the pergola column on the left in the bottom pictures. He told me how he'd had to... well, something, which meant that spot would be low. He says he calls such "birdbaths." I can't do anything about it, but will try to remember that a small "birdbath" is better than the large pond-bog I usually got in that spot pre-concrete.

I'll pray that the rose that is snapped in half will grow back, and I'll see what I can do to try to save the other flowers. Hoping that many will just come back next year, since it's so late in the year now that they might as well have been hit by frost.

I'll try to make it to the next payday without bouncing anything. MasterCard is going to love me. It will take some time, but I'll get back on my financial feet and dive in again with more yard and house projects. Next: fix that big hole in the living room wall where the built-in analog TV used to be. I really should get some nice-looking furniture for the patio. And after that...

I can't be the only person here who works on home projects. What have you done lately around your house? What are you planning to do?

Sturgeon's Law

2010-10-05T09:41:00.003-04:00

"90% of everything is crap."

Unfortunately, that seems to hold true for the books I've picked up lately. Last night I finished a regency I'd bought because someone had recommended it as including a fascinating (and rare) look at work prisons. I'd never read a regency that included such, and was disappointed in this that the glimpse was a brief one, only a couple pages, and did not contribute to the plot.

Okay, I thought, so it might turn out to be a nice regency. But it wasn't. Oh, I made it through the book, but I did so because the writer—who seemed to be able to produce decent prose—had to resolve her situations and I wondered how she'd do that. I was wrong. Oh, things were resolved. In a wishy-washy fashion.

First of all, we were given a heroine who had zero self-esteem. That's okay; the heroine in my books, Touch of Danger and the upcoming Star-Crossed, also suffers from that problem. But she gets over it. She learns and grows. This heroine took a step forward every so often, but quickly moved backward into her misery.

The hero had zero respect for the heroine. Oh, he'd loved her since she was a child. Yet he'd let her take four Seasons and hadn't offered for her. He'd have been content to take the chance of someone else proposing to her? He liked knowing she wouldn't accept anyone because she loved him, and it was fine how she was thus depressed and beginning to be scorned as a spinster? How odd and illogical. It's only when her dowry becomes so great that he decides that yes, he could stand to have her as his wife. Even though, remember, he's loved her since she was a child.

The heroine has also loved him, and apparently that's enough to put up with his emotional bullying and disrespect. The two don't communicate so everything goes unresolved until near the end. Things get worse and worse, our heroine falls far backward into the throes of terrible self-esteem and depression, our hero gets more controlling and demanding, and the solution is found when a high-born mucky-muck deigns to treat them as if they hadn't become the scandals of society that they made themselves.

Uh... what?

I think that editors shouldn't encourage writers to make their characters so unlikeable. Or if they do, they should insist that the characters GROW during a story (anyone heard of "character arcs"?), and become better people, happier people, because of their efforts to improve themselves. (We're talking romance here, which always has a HEA.)

To make things worse in this book there are three very explicit (and too-long) sex scenes. It seems every romance has to have these, no matter how badly they fit the pacing, no matter how mechanically things are presented, no matter that they have little place (as written) in the book they inhabit.

I'm not against sex scenes. I'm not even against explicit sex scenes. But they, like any other scene, must have a purpose in the book. They must move the plot forward. Otherwise it's merely cheap porn. (And I have nothing against good porn.)

So 90% of everything is crap. This makes finding a good book, or even discovering that rare great book, so exhilarating. In the meantime, I encourage authors to make their books the best they can. I encourage editors to help their authors improve their craft and the stories they tell.

Questions: What situations do you hate to find in books? What do you rejoice in seeing? What makes a book a keeper?

Go go go, NaNoWriMo!

2010-10-03T08:58:00.003-04:00

I made a schedule for blogging and then completely disregarded it as life sped up. At the very least I'd hoped to space some of my Star-Spangled Panties reprints so people knew I wasn't completely obsessed with Wonder Woman.

Oops.

NaNoWriMo (aka "Nanoo Nanoo") is National Novel Writing Month and occurs each November. I've never taken part. I mean, their idea of novel-length is shorter than mine is, and I just can't write a full novel in one month unless I were to lose my job. (Knock on wood that doesn't happen... unless the lottery comes through.) But I can treat it like I do "Book in a Week," in which the theory is that you knock out a first draft of a novel in a week (as unlikely as doing it in a month), but in which most people just set aside everything else so they can concentrate on their writing for a week. I can do that. I think.

Why? I've got novels that need serious rewriting I should be working on instead. My wip's second draft isn't finished. But I'll use NaNo as an excuse to fill my creative banks and get rid of some serious negative energy that the current run of Wonder Woman (and previous runs) has cast over me.

Y'see, I want to write a Wonder Woman novel.

No, it's not going to be fanfic. And I realize the probabilities of getting it published are extremely slender. (Though rumors of a movie and, in the past week, of an upcoming TV series, are rampant, and so the timing would be right.) This will be structured and thought through like I would a real novel bound for a bookstore. No, Jean-Luc Picard will not be making a guest appearance. No, there will be no slash with Superman. Or Io.

I'm having fun mulling this over in background mode during my days. How will I present Wondie? Not like I think Wondie should be in on Earth-Strickland, but rather as an amalgam of her best eras, the way she should be in her comics. She'll have the energy of the Golden Age, something we haven't seen in the book since, well, the Golden Age. She'll be mid-powered—perhaps Silver Age or Golden Age level. (Which fluctuated greatly, but I'll have it defined.) There'll be touches of Bronze Age and Plastic Age, and perhaps even a dab of Dark Age, if I can find anything worth preserving from that.

This week is vacation. Painting is my priority, as well as using evenings to make sure that second draft is completed by November so it can rest in a digital drawer and "rise" like bread dough, to be brought out in December for a fresh look. Each day this week I hope to decide on another basic element of my Nano novel.

So far I know that my protagonist is Diana of Themyscira, aka Wonder Woman. Our secondary plot will be headed by Diana's younger sister, Donna Troy, aka Troy. Angle Man's going to be a villain who gets a chance at reformation, but he's not going to be the Big Bad, as I've never been able to take AM all that seriously. Mike Schorr or Micah Rains—I can never recall which was which—will show up as a major supporting character with the possibility of love interest somewhere along the line, possibly the very end. This will not be a romance.

Haven't figured my plot yet. I'm reading a "20 Basic Plots" book that's giving me a different view on starting points. First, though, I'm starting with the Enneagram to figure out Diana and Donna's basic personality, what lessons they both need to learn, and what their weaknesses in character might be. Fun! At this pre-study point I think Diana is an 8: Protector, and Donna is a 2: Giver. I'll report back on this later, but do you have any ideas?

I'm also saving up scene ideas. When I read a Gail Simone WW story, I get the impression that she came up with "spectacle panel" ideas and then had to figure out how to string 'em together. Often the stringing didn't work well. But having the image in mind for a particular splashy turning point is a good idea, I think. And watching part of that Jackie Chan movie yesterday reminded me that Wonder Woman should fight not like Batman, not like Lady Shiva or Super Gladiator (though she should be able to function occasionally in those roles), but like Jackie Chan. It fits her ebullient, Golden Age ambiance best, and would also make her more unique in the superhero community. It would also provide for lively, fun action—no need for bloody swords!

Wonder Woman should be unique in her world. I think that's why writers have such a difficult time with her because so many of them are trying to squeeze her into a traditional superhero mold that she just doesn't fit. Look at the best WW writers: Marston, Sekowsky, Perez, Messner-Loebs, Simone. When they wrote their most memorable WW stories, they showed her outside the bounds of ordinary superheroing.

Well, I'm going to try that. And I'm going to have a ton of fun doing it. Wish me luck, and any out-of-the-box suggestions you might have, feel free to make them!