This may make me unpopular, but I don't care.
Most of you know that I spent the majority of my life growing up overseas in third world countries. I loved living overseas and was often embarrassed by the arrogance of Americans from the world perspective. Where most Americans believe the U.S. is something of a savior, helping less fortunate countries and spreading the words of democracy, many countries see the States as cocky, overweight, and lazy by culture.
However this is not my rant. Every culture has its quirks. You either love them or hate them, stand up for them or against them. It's the way the world works. But nothing, NOTHING, disgusts me more than America's penchant for wastefulness. I'm not talking fuel or energy, though surely a case can be made, but of food.
Turn on the television and you see advertisements for food products. Food for those commercials are coated with shellac and inedible. Not just for one take, but for ever single take. If an actor takes a bite, multiply that by the number of takes that individual had, the food on the side waiting for an additional take, etc. Think of that exact droplet of ketchup they needed and how many burgers melted under the light requiring another one to replace it.
That's minor. What really pisses me off is when reality shows or television sitcoms have pies in the face, food fights, food wrestling, fish flinging, or eating competitions which completely obliterate the actual use of the food.
Okay, so I know that the producers pay for those things, but let's get real. How many countries would gladly take even though scraps, would humble themselves for food personalities have rolled around in, just to have SOMETHING to eat that day. Something for their children to eat. It makes me ill to see how callous we are.
We Americans are great at talking about issues. But we never act on them. When I lived in Indonesia it was a fortunate family of nine that had even $10 dollars to feed the family for a week. That would have been wealthy. In Brazil, we provided meals to those who worked for us though it wasn't expected, and it was considered generous to have an endless pot of rice and beans.
But Big Brother does mash potato and gravy maze contests, pudding wrestling. It's a common joke in television or movie or even state fairs to have "stuff your face" contests or food fights. And folks, here, we find it FUNNY. We find squandering critical resources FUNNY when there are entire nations which starve.
I have no solution to this. It's rampant and it's disgusting, shallow, petulant, and idiotic.
Showing posts with label Kelly Kirch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kelly Kirch. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Review and Free Stuff
I received my first review for More Than Words today!! Here's what she had to say:I immediately fell in love with More Than Words. I love the premise of Kylie composing a story to have characters leap from the pages, or in her case, the laptop. I can visualize Kylie’s expressions as she wakes to see she is in a different setting. This tale is amusing, with attention-grabbing dialogue that keeps the story moving at a good pace. Kelly Kirch spins a well-written tale where this reader felt transported back into time in this fantastic read. It has some humorous perks that are quite delightful.
Cherokee
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance
Nice huh? I was pleased. This book was my favorite to write so far and the fact that it shows thrills me immensely. Yes, I know it's just a review and there will be those with differing opinions, but I also went to fictionwise and saw the "Great" rating dominated reader's pick. So yeah, I'm floating at the moment. Sue me.
I have promoted my book lately so I thought this would be a great time to run a contest for an eCopy of More Than Words. I'll post this on myspace and The Grip so that there is ample opportunity to win.
All you have to do is leave me a comment, in one of those three places, which quotes the very first sentence in the book you are reading now (site the title and author please--credit where credit is due).
I have four adults under my roof at the moment. The one voted as having the most intriguing first sentence will win a copy. All entries due by 11:59p on September 9th. Good luck!!! And thank you for helping to make More Than Words a success!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Series: Hate to Love 'em
I'm not a series junkie. In fact, I get miffed sometimes when there's a book I want to read which is part of a series. Why? Because I don't want to be drawn into a large, unending spiral of stories which will nag me to be read.
There are also the times when I pick up a book, read the blurb and think: "Wow, this one sounds great. I HAVE to read it." Only to find out it's number three or four in the series and to get the full affect, it's recommended I read the preceding ones, which don't interest me in the least. I almost always put that book back.
Now, here's the hypocritical part. I write in series. The Marriage Series wasn't intended to be one because of the above reasoning. I only meant to write Marriage Mart but my critique group and publishers insisted that the secondary characters have a story. Because I loved them too, I submitted to that request. I thought for sure it would be my only one.
I backed out of six more books for the Marriage series. There were supposed to be three off-shoot books for the peripheral females in the three books, those characters with cameos were to get a story and it would have been called the Companion Series. The peripheral males, particularly the men the Ester hung around in Marriage Mart, were supposed to receive stories in a Corinthian Series. But alas, Kelly Kirch is disappearing and I revoked the books before contracts occurred. I'm not sorry though I do wonder what I would have written for them.
As it turns out, I'm making headway into the inspirational market. And what comes out? Another series. I don't have a name for this one yet, but the first book is titled FOR MURDER, BY OWNER and will be written by my new pen name, Kelly Marstad. The series will follow four women, sisters, who still live with their mother and slowly move out, finding what life and faith have to offer them. It's been fun and instead of it being a romance strictly between woman and man, it is also a romance of the family. I want the reader to fall completely in love with the Hickerty family. Accomplishing that will be my primary concern.
Now if anyone can explain why I hate to read and commit to a series but seem drawn to write them, I'd love to hear it!
There are also the times when I pick up a book, read the blurb and think: "Wow, this one sounds great. I HAVE to read it." Only to find out it's number three or four in the series and to get the full affect, it's recommended I read the preceding ones, which don't interest me in the least. I almost always put that book back.
Now, here's the hypocritical part. I write in series. The Marriage Series wasn't intended to be one because of the above reasoning. I only meant to write Marriage Mart but my critique group and publishers insisted that the secondary characters have a story. Because I loved them too, I submitted to that request. I thought for sure it would be my only one.
I backed out of six more books for the Marriage series. There were supposed to be three off-shoot books for the peripheral females in the three books, those characters with cameos were to get a story and it would have been called the Companion Series. The peripheral males, particularly the men the Ester hung around in Marriage Mart, were supposed to receive stories in a Corinthian Series. But alas, Kelly Kirch is disappearing and I revoked the books before contracts occurred. I'm not sorry though I do wonder what I would have written for them.
As it turns out, I'm making headway into the inspirational market. And what comes out? Another series. I don't have a name for this one yet, but the first book is titled FOR MURDER, BY OWNER and will be written by my new pen name, Kelly Marstad. The series will follow four women, sisters, who still live with their mother and slowly move out, finding what life and faith have to offer them. It's been fun and instead of it being a romance strictly between woman and man, it is also a romance of the family. I want the reader to fall completely in love with the Hickerty family. Accomplishing that will be my primary concern.
Now if anyone can explain why I hate to read and commit to a series but seem drawn to write them, I'd love to hear it!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Name Game-is it accurate?
There are a lot of sites out there dedicated to finding a name. My favorite is this one, but this one is pretty good too. I use them. It isn't so much for the reason of finding a particular meaning to name my characters, but in finding unusual names that aren't so different as to be difficult on the reader.
I get tired of Bobby, Mark, and Fred but I don't want a name that is so out there the reader has to wonder how it's pronounced. I look for ideas in my neighbors too. For example, Captive Heart which comes out in January has an Ora. One of my recent neighbors had this name and though it sounds feminine, it isn't. I gave it to a cameo appearing farmer guy with a shotgun.
In a collaboration, a friend wanted all her werewolves to have one type of name and all her vampires to have another. Her solution was to look up names that mean death or eternity for her vampires and warrior for her werewolves. I thought it was a pretty clever solution. And though I don't think she'll make the reasoning evident in the finished product, she argued that she will know and therefore it matters.
But here's a thought. Back when, parents named their children after something. And Biblically, names were a foretelling of the personality to come. So looking at my children, I have one who's named after a river. She is strong, stubborn, unchangeable, willful, and delighting. Um, yep just like the river. The other daughter was named after a character in a book I read when I was a young teen. However, I always liked the light, playful, cheerful, engaging quality of the instrument and yep, sure enough, that daughter is all those things. One has an old soul with mood fluctuations and depths which seem to contradict what you see on the surface. The other skips and runs instead of walking, she laughs in a high musical tone, she's funny and is rarely down. I couldn't have named them better.
My name means green and warrior. Now I don't think this is a reference to sick fighters but it does conger up thoughts of spring and strength or resilience. I'd like to think I am those things but I leave it for those who know me to decide if it's accurate. Then there's the other side of that. My husband's name is Scott. The meaning is that he is Scottish. No, he isn't. He is German, Norwegian, and Swedish. He's not kilt-wearing either.
I took a class in college which talked about names and the impact they have on us. He wrote a book on the subject in fact (sorry all I remember is he was Dr. Carter and the cover was pale). He noted that every location was given a name for a reason. Like Hell, Minnesota which freezes over every year. He taught us to look at names of streets, parks, cities, and towns. Then he noted that all retirement homes and cemeteries are given serene names like, Hollowed Meadows, Whispering Pines and the like. It game me a whole new perspective on the names we choose to surround ourselves with as humans. I mean, it's not like you're going to see Tortured Souls Resting Home or Muddy Swallow Cemetery, right?
Look around and pop off some names. What is the name of your local cemetery? Your street?What's in your name? What does it mean and does it reflect you? Is it a contradiction to who you are? Speak up. Let's hear what you have to say.
I get tired of Bobby, Mark, and Fred but I don't want a name that is so out there the reader has to wonder how it's pronounced. I look for ideas in my neighbors too. For example, Captive Heart which comes out in January has an Ora. One of my recent neighbors had this name and though it sounds feminine, it isn't. I gave it to a cameo appearing farmer guy with a shotgun.
In a collaboration, a friend wanted all her werewolves to have one type of name and all her vampires to have another. Her solution was to look up names that mean death or eternity for her vampires and warrior for her werewolves. I thought it was a pretty clever solution. And though I don't think she'll make the reasoning evident in the finished product, she argued that she will know and therefore it matters.
But here's a thought. Back when, parents named their children after something. And Biblically, names were a foretelling of the personality to come. So looking at my children, I have one who's named after a river. She is strong, stubborn, unchangeable, willful, and delighting. Um, yep just like the river. The other daughter was named after a character in a book I read when I was a young teen. However, I always liked the light, playful, cheerful, engaging quality of the instrument and yep, sure enough, that daughter is all those things. One has an old soul with mood fluctuations and depths which seem to contradict what you see on the surface. The other skips and runs instead of walking, she laughs in a high musical tone, she's funny and is rarely down. I couldn't have named them better.
My name means green and warrior. Now I don't think this is a reference to sick fighters but it does conger up thoughts of spring and strength or resilience. I'd like to think I am those things but I leave it for those who know me to decide if it's accurate. Then there's the other side of that. My husband's name is Scott. The meaning is that he is Scottish. No, he isn't. He is German, Norwegian, and Swedish. He's not kilt-wearing either.
I took a class in college which talked about names and the impact they have on us. He wrote a book on the subject in fact (sorry all I remember is he was Dr. Carter and the cover was pale). He noted that every location was given a name for a reason. Like Hell, Minnesota which freezes over every year. He taught us to look at names of streets, parks, cities, and towns. Then he noted that all retirement homes and cemeteries are given serene names like, Hollowed Meadows, Whispering Pines and the like. It game me a whole new perspective on the names we choose to surround ourselves with as humans. I mean, it's not like you're going to see Tortured Souls Resting Home or Muddy Swallow Cemetery, right?
Look around and pop off some names. What is the name of your local cemetery? Your street?What's in your name? What does it mean and does it reflect you? Is it a contradiction to who you are? Speak up. Let's hear what you have to say.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Can you pass my second chance, please?
There is something completely deflating about following Anny Cook. That woman makes so much sense that I really struggle to find something to add. I'm gonna try anyway, cause it's a great topic. Be gentle with me.
I can't say I have a lot of experience with second chances, per se. I haven't re-dated, re-married, or returned to anyone or any place in my life. But the second chances I do know well are the professional and marital ones.
Marital: As Anny said, they are daily. Every time there's a disagreement, a differing of opinion, even a financial crisis a marriage finds its bearings and starts fresh. You'd no more give up on a minor problem than you would should yourself in the foot. Oh wait, my uncle actually did that. Yes, he did. But that's beside the point. You work through problems, generally. But I'm not going to linger on this point. I'm going to jet on through to the next example... professional second chances.
Professional: I'm in the midst of a rebirth so I feel like I can discuss this with some sense of authority. I haven't openly publicized this so as not to affect sales and whatnot, but things are shaking up. A little while ago I posted something on my personal blog about Gray Spaces. I told everyone, after their expressed concerns, that I had two identities. I went public about the double pen names for the record. There was more that I didn't say and will introduce today.
At the beginning of next year I'm closing down my pen names. Both of them. I won't be writing as either Kelly Kirch or Katie Blu because I'm taking my second chance. I'll be writing as Kelly Marstad. I'll be moving into the inspirational genre. For those of you who need a translation, that would be Christian Fiction.
Now I've heard a lot of comments on this already but basically it comes down to two things. First, my husband's career is at stake and that is tremendously important to me. I don't want to be the reason he is fired and black-balled from his vocation. I love what I write but that's what leads me to the second reason. I've been struggling with the decisions I've made and completely lacking in peace for them. The minute I decided to go this route, I felt like a weight had been lifted.
The second chance at my career is at hand. I'm not ashamed of what I've written which is why I'm telling all of you about it, making it public. I won't hide from it either. I will have to explain my past down the road to those in the Inspirational market, but then that's nothing new to me at this point.
I still have works out there that have yet to be published but they are contracted, and I will continue to promote them and sign them. Why? Because I'm not ashamed, just heading down a different track. The disconcerting thing is that my new market focus doesn't really embrace mainstream authors. I'll be starting over like an unpublished writer as my backlist carries no weight and I'm moving in a market that is REALLY picky about what constitutes overt sexual content. One woman told me her heroine commented on the hero's nice legs in one book and his back-side in another and that was a risk. Heh.
This second chance is scary, new, a little terrifying, and I may be making a huge mistake. That's why it's been under wraps. But I have to give it a go without burning my bridges behind me. So while I'm not giving a second chance, I'm collecting on one and that, my friends, scares me to pieces.
~Kelly~
I can't say I have a lot of experience with second chances, per se. I haven't re-dated, re-married, or returned to anyone or any place in my life. But the second chances I do know well are the professional and marital ones.
Marital: As Anny said, they are daily. Every time there's a disagreement, a differing of opinion, even a financial crisis a marriage finds its bearings and starts fresh. You'd no more give up on a minor problem than you would should yourself in the foot. Oh wait, my uncle actually did that. Yes, he did. But that's beside the point. You work through problems, generally. But I'm not going to linger on this point. I'm going to jet on through to the next example... professional second chances.
Professional: I'm in the midst of a rebirth so I feel like I can discuss this with some sense of authority. I haven't openly publicized this so as not to affect sales and whatnot, but things are shaking up. A little while ago I posted something on my personal blog about Gray Spaces. I told everyone, after their expressed concerns, that I had two identities. I went public about the double pen names for the record. There was more that I didn't say and will introduce today.
At the beginning of next year I'm closing down my pen names. Both of them. I won't be writing as either Kelly Kirch or Katie Blu because I'm taking my second chance. I'll be writing as Kelly Marstad. I'll be moving into the inspirational genre. For those of you who need a translation, that would be Christian Fiction.
Now I've heard a lot of comments on this already but basically it comes down to two things. First, my husband's career is at stake and that is tremendously important to me. I don't want to be the reason he is fired and black-balled from his vocation. I love what I write but that's what leads me to the second reason. I've been struggling with the decisions I've made and completely lacking in peace for them. The minute I decided to go this route, I felt like a weight had been lifted.
The second chance at my career is at hand. I'm not ashamed of what I've written which is why I'm telling all of you about it, making it public. I won't hide from it either. I will have to explain my past down the road to those in the Inspirational market, but then that's nothing new to me at this point.
I still have works out there that have yet to be published but they are contracted, and I will continue to promote them and sign them. Why? Because I'm not ashamed, just heading down a different track. The disconcerting thing is that my new market focus doesn't really embrace mainstream authors. I'll be starting over like an unpublished writer as my backlist carries no weight and I'm moving in a market that is REALLY picky about what constitutes overt sexual content. One woman told me her heroine commented on the hero's nice legs in one book and his back-side in another and that was a risk. Heh.
This second chance is scary, new, a little terrifying, and I may be making a huge mistake. That's why it's been under wraps. But I have to give it a go without burning my bridges behind me. So while I'm not giving a second chance, I'm collecting on one and that, my friends, scares me to pieces.
~Kelly~
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Doing it your way
Wasn't Anny's post pretty? She's a woman of incredible talent both for her writing and her creativity in crafts. I've seen these hairpiks and the longer, fancier versions. She makes chinka boxes too any fabric, button, and yarn crafts you can come up with. She's just that good.
I'm less creative with the crafts and lean pretty heavily on internet promo. I've been studying Anny and Cindy for a year now, watching how they handle chats and how they interact with their reader audiences. I confess I'm not as adventurous as they are... yet. I'm working on it at a snail's pace. I'm also up against some professional changes in my life and have slowed down my promo until I have it all worked out. My first milestone is to host a chat. I haven't yet and I'd like to.
Promo comes down to one thing: Getting people to recognize your brand. What's a brand? It's how people recognize your work, your name, your image in the general market place. Yes, a simplistic explanation but a valid description. Your brand is everything from your genre to they way your name appears on your blog/website. If your brand is inconsistent, it confuses the reader and takes them longer to remember who you are and what you write.
People require ten mentions before your name is remembered. If you have your name coinciding with an image, it strengthens the recognition factor. For example, Regina's avatar, the sexy little blonde cartoon from Three Wicked Writers she uses or the eyes avatar on my blog. Those are things that even when seen without my name or her name attached, will become recognized for their association.
Do you have a brand? You might without even realizing it. What do people associate with your work? Wicked humor? Damaged alpha werewolves? Klutzy heroines? Do your stories have compatible themes? Do you write in one or more genres? It's all part of how your reader will recognize you. If you haven't thought of it, now is the time.
Another aspect of branding is getting your name out there. It goes without saying that if you don't put your brand out there, no one will ever know your work unless by chance. So get out there. Drum up the sales and extend yourself. It doesn't matter if you chat, do contests, give things away, or flash your pearly whites. Whatever it is you do and makes you comfortable, go for it!
~Kelly~
I'm less creative with the crafts and lean pretty heavily on internet promo. I've been studying Anny and Cindy for a year now, watching how they handle chats and how they interact with their reader audiences. I confess I'm not as adventurous as they are... yet. I'm working on it at a snail's pace. I'm also up against some professional changes in my life and have slowed down my promo until I have it all worked out. My first milestone is to host a chat. I haven't yet and I'd like to.
Promo comes down to one thing: Getting people to recognize your brand. What's a brand? It's how people recognize your work, your name, your image in the general market place. Yes, a simplistic explanation but a valid description. Your brand is everything from your genre to they way your name appears on your blog/website. If your brand is inconsistent, it confuses the reader and takes them longer to remember who you are and what you write.
People require ten mentions before your name is remembered. If you have your name coinciding with an image, it strengthens the recognition factor. For example, Regina's avatar, the sexy little blonde cartoon from Three Wicked Writers she uses or the eyes avatar on my blog. Those are things that even when seen without my name or her name attached, will become recognized for their association.
Do you have a brand? You might without even realizing it. What do people associate with your work? Wicked humor? Damaged alpha werewolves? Klutzy heroines? Do your stories have compatible themes? Do you write in one or more genres? It's all part of how your reader will recognize you. If you haven't thought of it, now is the time.
Another aspect of branding is getting your name out there. It goes without saying that if you don't put your brand out there, no one will ever know your work unless by chance. So get out there. Drum up the sales and extend yourself. It doesn't matter if you chat, do contests, give things away, or flash your pearly whites. Whatever it is you do and makes you comfortable, go for it!
~Kelly~
Sunday, August 10, 2008
More Than Words. Out NOW!!
More Than Words (Historical Romance/Fantasy) Released August 4, 2008 from ResplendencePublishing.com
Kylie Dobson is a romance author with a problem. As a seat-of-the-pants writer, she depends on the strength of the characters to drive her plot. But when her hero, Milo, Lord Gafton refuses to chase after the prescribed heroine, everything goes wonky. Kylie is inexplicably sucked into her work of fiction, transported from a contemporary venue to a fictional Regency setting. What's worse is, nothing she does is affecting the plot and she can't get out.
Set into motion by her own creative process is a winter storm which seals the Regency party goers in on a country estate. If that wasn't bad enough, a murderer is on the loose and he's picking off one guest at a time. The more time she spends with Milo the more she comes to depend on him. She's convinced that his character sketch will kick in at any moment and he'll fall for her heroine. But will it happen before she loses her heart to him? And what happens when the plot draws to the end? Will the killer have his way and will Kylie solve the case only to be returned to her reality without the man she's fallen for?
EXCERPT 1:
The next morning, Kylie sat in front of her laptop trying to recreate the solarium scene in her mind. A soft flutter tickled along the side of her neck. Her eyes sealed shut, Kylie batted it away. Seconds later, the wispy flutter returned. She swiped at it, returning her fingers to rub clumsily over the spot which insisted on distracting her from her visualization exercise. Determined to work through the problem with her novel, she wasn’t about to let the irritation of a mosquito pull her from the scene she needed to write.
The problem was with Milo, she decided. Miss Sutterfield was blameless. Kylie had made Milo too demanding. She’d have to go back and rework his character. Maybe make him weak-kneed for Miss Sutterfield. But try as she might, she couldn’t play the image of Milo being anything less than he was for the lovely Miss Sutterfield.
Kylie grunted her irritation. A low throaty chuckle drifted to her moments before something flitted over her earlobe. Leaping to her feet, she grabbed madly for her laptop only to find it missing. “What the—?”
“Were you quite finished? I would have allowed you more time but your furrowed brow proved too fetching to resist.” Milo sat on the settee, arms draped along the back and legs crossed, his negligent pose was at odds with the light dancing in his dark brown eyes. He twirled a feather between his fingers closest to where she had been sitting.
She blinked, rubbed a knuckle over her tired eye and blinked again. “Great, I’m seeing things.”
Milo cocked an eyebrow. His smile broadened. “Are you?”
“Yes, I are,” she snapped. “Get back in my head. We have work to do. You nearly messed up the plot by refusing to compromise Miss Sutterfield.” Kylie muttered to herself. She went through the solarium scene in her mind. She had actually managed to talk herself through the initial door opening, where Milo first saw Miss Sutterfield nervously standing across the room, when Kylie froze.
Milo hadn’t faded. She could still see his booted foot in her line of vision where she stared at the floor, trying to reason out the hang up. Her gaze traveled up his boot to the form fitting buff breeches, over his crossed knees. The muscular flex of his thighs was not hidden by the clinging material, nor was the line of his lean hips, visible through his parted coat. Her face heated and she had the distinct urge to fan herself. If a man were standing and had something going on in those pants, it would be really difficult to hide. She’d have to keep that in mind for a future scene.
Kylie studied the deep navy coat with its large brass buttons, the black piped edging and the way his lapels only seemed to widen his already broad shoulders. Milo’s cravat, a cascade of folded, tucked, and knotted fabric should have seemed frilly, effeminate, but it had the completely opposite effect. The abundance of white deepened the warm tones of his skin, framed his jaw and made the visible tendons steely by comparison.
Her mouth went dry. “You’re still here,” she croaked.
“As are you.”
Her gaze lingered over the cut line of jaw, the prominent chin with a small indent perfectly centered below full, smooth lips. Kissing lips. She remembered thinking that when she created his character, imagining lips which had pouty thickness without losing the fine hard line of formation. His nose was long and straight, his dark eyes engaging and seductive beneath the straight, dark slash of his brows. Chestnut locks waved back from his high forehead and skimmed the back of his cravat. “Damn, I did a great job on you.”
His mouth curled, taking on a lopsided tilt. “So glad you approve.”
EXCERPT 2:
Wheeling her around, he backed her to the wall where he had been standing. His mouth crashed down on hers. Where before she had dominated the exchange, now Milo seared her lips with his. He commanded her, held her captive under the seductive onslaught of his kiss. Kylie clutched his shoulders, hanging on when her body wanted nothing more than to dissolve within the sensations he crafted. Her head spun, her insides did summersaults, her ears rang happily. Through it all, her body awoke with a long, shuddering sigh, blissful and no longer willing to remain complacent.
Kylie rocked her hips to his, rejoicing in his obvious arousal. Milo’s hands clinched repeatedly on her waist, clearly wanting to touch her but not allowing himself to take the liberty. Deciding to show her Regency man a little real world experience, she reached between them, stroking over his length. He muttered something into her mouth which sounded like a half-crazed oath. Her sentiments exactly. The man was huge. She’d written that part of him well, too.
The realization poured over her like a bucket of ice water. What the hell was she doing? Feeling up her fictitious hero? Hello, Kylie, get a grip. Oh, she’d love to get a grip. Oh wait, no, she shouldn’t. Kylie shoved him, then shoved him again when she wasn’t immediately successful in pushing him away. “Quit doing that.”
Milo’s breath rasped with the same harsh grating as hers. He swore viciously under his breath. It sounded nothing like the previous one meant to call upon the power of God. No, this oath was pissed.
“I admit I got carried away the first time, but you can’t just grab me and kiss me.”
“The first time, Kylie? What of the second time? And if the second was my doing, why did you grasp the front of my breeches?”
“Fine. I got carried away both times. It can’t happen again.”
“It will happen again.”
“No, it won’t. You’ll go on your merry way lusting after Miss Sutterfield and I will work out the bugs in my plot. We’ll all live happily ever after. End of story,” she snapped.
“Is that the promise of a novelist? Hmm? Happily ever after? Because you are correct about it being the end of the story in such circumstances. But it would be your happily ever, not mine. I may have been formed by your mind and creative effort, but I choose my own direction.”
“That’s not what I meant. In real time, end of story is a figure of speech. Though, I want to figure out the ending and get back to some semblance of normalcy.”
“You’re meant for me, Kylie. You don’t see it yet, but you are as drawn to me as I am to you.”
“You’re drawn for Miss Sutterfield. At some point your true nature will come out, you’ll realize your mistake and make a bee-line for her. Then I’m left in the dust. No thanks. I’m not about to get burned by the embodiment of my hero. I’ve done it in real life and I’m not doing it for the plot development of this book.”
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Para-Christianity?
Yesterday Anny mentioned the Bible as a holy book but not an encylopedia. I agree. It's not meant to answer all your reference questions. In fact, if you take passages from the Bible and put them in a word doc, you will find that those little green underliney things pop up indicating grammatical errors. Due to translation no doubt, but not your example of grammatical usage for a college paper or thesis.
However, I do have to differ with her as ghosts (Job), Pangaea (Genesis), and Dinosaurs (BOTH water dwelling veggie-sauruses and land dwelling meata-saureses) are mentioned in the Bible. Interestingly enough, it isn't the prospect of a single landmass breaking up or dinosaurs that will create some of the biggest controversy in a religious discussion, but the open communication about the spirit world.
I find it interesting that in a faith which believes deeply in the Holy Spirit and the minions of the underworld, we are not encouraged to discuss what happens to us when we pass on. Oh, it's talked about in quiet whispers and shared experiences... even (gasp) at seminary between the wives.
It was during one such discussion that a seminary guy confessed he was a sensitive who really appreciated taking a theology class where they did a two day seminar on hauntings and possessions!! I was floored! I mean, my husband attends the same school but he is a tough ghost critic despite our numerous personal experiences (which, if you have been following along, have not continued since the move and I have yet to hear from our renter that they've been a problem).
The seminar bits he told me about were fascinating. For example, spirits seem to prefer water or areas with water as a kind of anti-baptism. They also prefer to possess something, even if it's an animal as opposed to being cast out into a bodiless existence. There were other things too, like if you are in an exorcism, you ought to have your life very much in order because the inhabiting spirit will call out your sins one by one to get you to stop. This includes forgiven sins and existing sins. That's enough to make me run, right there.
My friend Dena is married to the guy who was in that course. She's sensitive too and we had a long talk one day about personal experiences, faith, and what we believe happens to us "after". Where I believe in spirits who pretend to be the ghosts of loved ones gone (the distinction is a whole 'nuther blog folks), Dena believes that ghosts are our spirits on a parallel plane with us. That they either can or cannot reach through the veil to be heard or seen. That hell for them is being near your loved one but never able to communicate and heaven is always interacting with them. Neither one of us was sure what that meant for the dingo dipwad who messed around with my shower head while I was bathing.
Jean, another friend, doesn't believe there is anything. Mia refuses to discuss it. Linda thinks I'm crazy. Terri and Jannifer will talk aliens but not ghosts, and most of us quietly pretend that whatever we've been taught must be right therefore pressing the matter might end up in bad vibes or mean we have broken from faith.
But does it really have to mean that? I'm firm in my belief of an afterlife in heaven (or hell, you naughty, naughty things!!! I say this tongue in cheek cause thankfully, I'm not the one making the decisions or pretending to have an inside scoop on the matter). I am also confident that there are many many things we cannot understand yet. We get glimpses and form an opinion which works until the next glimpse comes along to tighten or alter the definition we've created. Are there weres? Dunno. Aliens? No idea. I have experiences but no proof. Sasquatch? Possibly. Can't rule that out. Vampires? All kinds, especially those emotional vampires who suck your positive energy every time they are around. The blood kind? Again. Dunno. I know there are those who practise vampirism but whether they are immortal, enh....
With faith (any faith), which needs gossamer trust in order to have an existence, I would say it opens the door nicely to other philosophies, including the supernatural or paranormal. After all paranormal just means, outside the norm. But faith is... well, it's a belief right?
We believe it whether there is factual evidence or not. It is faith BECAUSE it's not concrete but accepted as truth, anyway. That being the case, I have faith that there is a spirit world intimately involved with us... you can call it ghosts if you want. I have faith that there are creatures yet undiscovered on this planet and therefore the possibility of other planets is wide open... I have faith that my experiences aren't the only ones out there, nor are yours... and I have faith that one day, I'll know for sure.
~Kelly~
However, I do have to differ with her as ghosts (Job), Pangaea (Genesis), and Dinosaurs (BOTH water dwelling veggie-sauruses and land dwelling meata-saureses) are mentioned in the Bible. Interestingly enough, it isn't the prospect of a single landmass breaking up or dinosaurs that will create some of the biggest controversy in a religious discussion, but the open communication about the spirit world.
I find it interesting that in a faith which believes deeply in the Holy Spirit and the minions of the underworld, we are not encouraged to discuss what happens to us when we pass on. Oh, it's talked about in quiet whispers and shared experiences... even (gasp) at seminary between the wives.
It was during one such discussion that a seminary guy confessed he was a sensitive who really appreciated taking a theology class where they did a two day seminar on hauntings and possessions!! I was floored! I mean, my husband attends the same school but he is a tough ghost critic despite our numerous personal experiences (which, if you have been following along, have not continued since the move and I have yet to hear from our renter that they've been a problem).
The seminar bits he told me about were fascinating. For example, spirits seem to prefer water or areas with water as a kind of anti-baptism. They also prefer to possess something, even if it's an animal as opposed to being cast out into a bodiless existence. There were other things too, like if you are in an exorcism, you ought to have your life very much in order because the inhabiting spirit will call out your sins one by one to get you to stop. This includes forgiven sins and existing sins. That's enough to make me run, right there.
My friend Dena is married to the guy who was in that course. She's sensitive too and we had a long talk one day about personal experiences, faith, and what we believe happens to us "after". Where I believe in spirits who pretend to be the ghosts of loved ones gone (the distinction is a whole 'nuther blog folks), Dena believes that ghosts are our spirits on a parallel plane with us. That they either can or cannot reach through the veil to be heard or seen. That hell for them is being near your loved one but never able to communicate and heaven is always interacting with them. Neither one of us was sure what that meant for the dingo dipwad who messed around with my shower head while I was bathing.
Jean, another friend, doesn't believe there is anything. Mia refuses to discuss it. Linda thinks I'm crazy. Terri and Jannifer will talk aliens but not ghosts, and most of us quietly pretend that whatever we've been taught must be right therefore pressing the matter might end up in bad vibes or mean we have broken from faith.
But does it really have to mean that? I'm firm in my belief of an afterlife in heaven (or hell, you naughty, naughty things!!! I say this tongue in cheek cause thankfully, I'm not the one making the decisions or pretending to have an inside scoop on the matter). I am also confident that there are many many things we cannot understand yet. We get glimpses and form an opinion which works until the next glimpse comes along to tighten or alter the definition we've created. Are there weres? Dunno. Aliens? No idea. I have experiences but no proof. Sasquatch? Possibly. Can't rule that out. Vampires? All kinds, especially those emotional vampires who suck your positive energy every time they are around. The blood kind? Again. Dunno. I know there are those who practise vampirism but whether they are immortal, enh....
With faith (any faith), which needs gossamer trust in order to have an existence, I would say it opens the door nicely to other philosophies, including the supernatural or paranormal. After all paranormal just means, outside the norm. But faith is... well, it's a belief right?
We believe it whether there is factual evidence or not. It is faith BECAUSE it's not concrete but accepted as truth, anyway. That being the case, I have faith that there is a spirit world intimately involved with us... you can call it ghosts if you want. I have faith that there are creatures yet undiscovered on this planet and therefore the possibility of other planets is wide open... I have faith that my experiences aren't the only ones out there, nor are yours... and I have faith that one day, I'll know for sure.
~Kelly~
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Brain Candy ala Kelly (or is it Katie. Hmm)
My writing day is about getting it done. However I fit that in, however I schedule around meals and family... I get it done and usually before the deadline. I'm a pantser who lets the characters take over. I merely suggest a direction I'd like to see, throw the coals on the fire and see what happens. I firmly subscribe to the idea, "When in doubt, burn down the house". It's sometimes the only way to check out what your characters are made of.
But I do write fairly clean. I write in chapters and revise/edit before going on to the next one. I also document by outline the completed chapter so I have a reference point for later revisions or things I want to change, dates, timelines, introduced characters... yada yada yada. Then when it's over I revise and edit from start to finish adding in the little tid bits of info that I thought of along the way and now need to be reworked into the story.
But just for a feel, I recently shared this dose of Brain Candy for the Frogpond... it's just something I wrote in the moment. I don't even know if it has somewhere to go yet or if this is all it's meant to be. Enjoy!
Philipa Klineman could pretend it didn’t hurt but of course to high hell it had. You didn’t get handed your dignity in front of the office staff and told you were a desperate seething cow everyday of your life. Never, if you were fortunate. Though Hans Gladstone, the office sex god, may know a thing or two about whining bovine she refused to believe he had summed up their entire relationship into a kind of barnyard existence.
Really? She thought, Not just a seething cow, but a desperate seething cow? How exactly did one graduate from the first level to the second? And when was “giving the milk for free” ever actually meant to encompass her perfect relationship with the perfect man who did perfect things to her imperfect body and—okay, slightly damaged—psyche? Was there a moment she should have got off that train she’d missed? And if the heavens above corrected her mixed metaphors now, so help her.
You would think, having broken up with the sod seven months ago, his words wouldn’t still carry a sting. But he’d hit to the heart of the matter, hadn’t he? Attacking her insecurities, laying her bare for the entire office to pick over and speculate. She hated that she still cared what people like him thought of her. She’d given her best years, months—fine, some of her best and they were weeks—to him and his insatiable cock.
Storming down the rain-swept streets, Philipa tromped through a grease-slicked puddle hiding a crack. Her ankle turned. Her heel broke and she was left, toe deep, in goo. “Shit,” she said and then “shit!” she repeated for more emphasis. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Philipa bellowed to the sidewalk at large.
She ignored the glare of the nearest geriatric and the curious smile by the be-suited man sporting a cigarette. Philipa was in her element and could not be distracted. Nothing, no one, not a fireball falling immediately in front of her would sway her from storming into said sex god’s apartment—yes, she still had the extra key—and dumping potting manure on his sheets. He wanted a cow? He’d get the best part of a cow, damn it. At least potting manure knew how to nurture.
Philipa hobbled into the flower shop and shoved money at the stringy blonde popping bubbles and cracking her gum. She barely paused to toss a grateful wave as she hiked the smallish bag onto her hip and made a bee line for his residence. Maybe she’d even pour a glass of milk and leave it by his answering machine so he was reminded of exactly what he’d said—you know, in case full on bed poo wasn’t enough to get the message across.
Out of nowhere, Philipa was shoved brutally forward. She would have lost her footing if a large, warm hand hadn’t circled her upper arm to keep her from falling. The bag was a loss, spilling its contents without concern for its owner’s slated revenge.
“Shit,” a deep baritone said beside her. “Sorry about that.”
Philipa looked forlornly at the quickly liquefying muck. “Well, it’s diarrhea, now.” She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what overtook her but in that moment she busted out laughing. She doubled over, pointing at the fragrant sludge. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I thought dumping a load of manure on his bed was a great idea. What the hell was I thinking?”
“You mean that’s shit?” he said. “Actual shit?”
Philipa looked up at the man who still held her arm, for the first time. Her laughter died.
~Kelly~
But I do write fairly clean. I write in chapters and revise/edit before going on to the next one. I also document by outline the completed chapter so I have a reference point for later revisions or things I want to change, dates, timelines, introduced characters... yada yada yada. Then when it's over I revise and edit from start to finish adding in the little tid bits of info that I thought of along the way and now need to be reworked into the story.
But just for a feel, I recently shared this dose of Brain Candy for the Frogpond... it's just something I wrote in the moment. I don't even know if it has somewhere to go yet or if this is all it's meant to be. Enjoy!
Philipa Klineman could pretend it didn’t hurt but of course to high hell it had. You didn’t get handed your dignity in front of the office staff and told you were a desperate seething cow everyday of your life. Never, if you were fortunate. Though Hans Gladstone, the office sex god, may know a thing or two about whining bovine she refused to believe he had summed up their entire relationship into a kind of barnyard existence.
Really? She thought, Not just a seething cow, but a desperate seething cow? How exactly did one graduate from the first level to the second? And when was “giving the milk for free” ever actually meant to encompass her perfect relationship with the perfect man who did perfect things to her imperfect body and—okay, slightly damaged—psyche? Was there a moment she should have got off that train she’d missed? And if the heavens above corrected her mixed metaphors now, so help her.
You would think, having broken up with the sod seven months ago, his words wouldn’t still carry a sting. But he’d hit to the heart of the matter, hadn’t he? Attacking her insecurities, laying her bare for the entire office to pick over and speculate. She hated that she still cared what people like him thought of her. She’d given her best years, months—fine, some of her best and they were weeks—to him and his insatiable cock.
Storming down the rain-swept streets, Philipa tromped through a grease-slicked puddle hiding a crack. Her ankle turned. Her heel broke and she was left, toe deep, in goo. “Shit,” she said and then “shit!” she repeated for more emphasis. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Philipa bellowed to the sidewalk at large.
She ignored the glare of the nearest geriatric and the curious smile by the be-suited man sporting a cigarette. Philipa was in her element and could not be distracted. Nothing, no one, not a fireball falling immediately in front of her would sway her from storming into said sex god’s apartment—yes, she still had the extra key—and dumping potting manure on his sheets. He wanted a cow? He’d get the best part of a cow, damn it. At least potting manure knew how to nurture.
Philipa hobbled into the flower shop and shoved money at the stringy blonde popping bubbles and cracking her gum. She barely paused to toss a grateful wave as she hiked the smallish bag onto her hip and made a bee line for his residence. Maybe she’d even pour a glass of milk and leave it by his answering machine so he was reminded of exactly what he’d said—you know, in case full on bed poo wasn’t enough to get the message across.
Out of nowhere, Philipa was shoved brutally forward. She would have lost her footing if a large, warm hand hadn’t circled her upper arm to keep her from falling. The bag was a loss, spilling its contents without concern for its owner’s slated revenge.
“Shit,” a deep baritone said beside her. “Sorry about that.”
Philipa looked forlornly at the quickly liquefying muck. “Well, it’s diarrhea, now.” She couldn’t help it. She didn’t know what overtook her but in that moment she busted out laughing. She doubled over, pointing at the fragrant sludge. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I thought dumping a load of manure on his bed was a great idea. What the hell was I thinking?”
“You mean that’s shit?” he said. “Actual shit?”
Philipa looked up at the man who still held her arm, for the first time. Her laughter died.
~Kelly~
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Behind the Scenes
As a consumer, I fully understand the frustration with not having the insurance company I need. In fact, we are between coverages at the moment because we can't be covered across state lines in the same program. In my search for Tennessee coverage I discovered a horrible truth. I fall between the cracks.
Here's the scenario. I have Blue Cross. In Indiana it is an elected coverage I buy for which I qualified without a hitch. In Tennessee it is an elected coverage but also the state run program for those who are ineligible for coverage by other companies. So if you can't be covered in Tennessee, BC will do it, theoretically.
That being said, though I've been a member of BC for a year, my Indiana coverage won't transfer to Tennessee. There are two reasons for this. First, crossing state lines means a transfer of coverage resulting in triple the cost I paid in Indiana. Secondly, I'm not in the height/weight ratio required for a transfer (ie/ I'm plump). I asked what weight and height I'd have to be and was declined an answer as there are those that would attempt fraud.
For Indiana coverage to transfer then, while I'm completely healthy with no other issues (no diabetes, high blood pressure, etc) I'm not eligible for coverage due to my ratio. BC told me to call their offices for the uninsurable in Tennessee for coverage. I did so and the answer I got was that I don't qualify for uninsurable coverage. Why? Because the only thing wrong with me is my weight. If I had a condition, then I would be eligible. Folks, this is the same company. Between state lines I fell through the cracks. One state says I'm not healthy due to my weight, the same company in a different state says I'm healthy despite my weight. I should be mad, right? Frustrated?
Okay, I confess to frustrated, but not at the insurance company. I'll tell you why. The insurance industry is a go-between. It is the mediator between you and another entity. When you are hired, it's between you and your employer. When you are unemployed, it's between you and the state where you reside. Insurance companies have a TON of plans. Everything from individual to group to third party administrators (where the plan is administered by your company specifically and the insurance party does no more than determine coverage for a claim).
This is where you say, "Geez, Kelly, isn't that what I'm talking about? The insurance company decides if I'm sick enough or sick with the right thing. Baaaad insurance company." Ahh. This is true BUT, and this is a huge but, each of those three categories of coverage (individual, group, and TPA) have many, many policies under each. YOUR COMPANY decides which policy they buy based on what they think the biggest coverable issues are. THEY decide, not the insurance company. The insurance company would be happy to sell their most thorough plan.
Here's how it works. Your company, state, or your pocket book tries to figure out what would best cover their particular issues and under what circumstances. They cover x surgery but not if x is associated with y. Or they cover x with this many days recovery. Or they cover x if it is not work related. Or they cover x if you haven't been diagnosed with x in the past (fill in the blank because this time period is also determined by your employer) months. ALL OF THE VARIABLES are negotiable by your company.
I worked for Prudential, Fortis, Assurant, Hartford. These are fantastic companies in the industry and it's ALWAYS THE SAME. It is really easy to blame the insurance company but what is actually happening is, your company purchased a policy of their choosing and time frame from the insurance carrier. Now the Insurance carrier is LEGALLY OBLIGATED to give your claim due process so that if fits the plan the company purchased. They are not allowed to cover you for things which the policy from your employer binds them on. THEY CANNOT. They also cannot ignore pre-existing conditions or waiting periods. Not because they are mean, but because they are legally bound to do so.
Other inside info? They don't have to read you your policy. Read it yourself. Know what plan you signed up for and ASK QUESTIONS. There is not a single company that won't explain it to you if you ask and all of them keep meticulous records. If you asked a question and it wasn't explained, have them pull up the voice file and fight. All phone conversations are recorded. Not just some. If you don't understand your waiting periods, ask. Read your policy. It's a contract and you signed your name to it agreeing to the conditions. Would you sign your name to a house mortgage without knowing your rate or term? No.
Your claims person is also obligated to work within a time frame. Every so often a notice must be sent out to you whether or not your claim is being worked on. But standards require that your claim be "touched" within the first 30 days. It's a law. Communicate with your claims handler. The harder they have to work to get information out of you, the longer it will take to get paid because they have to dig for it. If they ask you for a doctor update, get them one. Make sure your doctor has a signed HIPAA release on file and he/she knows that they should take the calls when they come in.
I sound mean. Sorry. This is a truth about the industry. My situation is based on my contract with the state and what the state (as my pseudo company) offers, not what the insurance company offers. Remember the insurance company wants to earn money and the more thorough the policy the better for them, however, they are bound by contract to offer you only what they've been permitted to offer.
You know the Afflac commercials? Why do you think the duck is telling you to tell your company about their plan which covers so much? Because the insurance company wants your company to offer it. If they don't, the duck can't help you. Talk to your employers, tell them what you want. Get a group together if you have to.
This is just the facts. Make an informed decision about your coverage and then work with it to get the best coverage you can. If you have two or three choices, look at them and see what you want covered. But the insurance company isn't the bad guy. They're just the accountants.
~Kelly~
Here's the scenario. I have Blue Cross. In Indiana it is an elected coverage I buy for which I qualified without a hitch. In Tennessee it is an elected coverage but also the state run program for those who are ineligible for coverage by other companies. So if you can't be covered in Tennessee, BC will do it, theoretically.
That being said, though I've been a member of BC for a year, my Indiana coverage won't transfer to Tennessee. There are two reasons for this. First, crossing state lines means a transfer of coverage resulting in triple the cost I paid in Indiana. Secondly, I'm not in the height/weight ratio required for a transfer (ie/ I'm plump). I asked what weight and height I'd have to be and was declined an answer as there are those that would attempt fraud.
For Indiana coverage to transfer then, while I'm completely healthy with no other issues (no diabetes, high blood pressure, etc) I'm not eligible for coverage due to my ratio. BC told me to call their offices for the uninsurable in Tennessee for coverage. I did so and the answer I got was that I don't qualify for uninsurable coverage. Why? Because the only thing wrong with me is my weight. If I had a condition, then I would be eligible. Folks, this is the same company. Between state lines I fell through the cracks. One state says I'm not healthy due to my weight, the same company in a different state says I'm healthy despite my weight. I should be mad, right? Frustrated?
Okay, I confess to frustrated, but not at the insurance company. I'll tell you why. The insurance industry is a go-between. It is the mediator between you and another entity. When you are hired, it's between you and your employer. When you are unemployed, it's between you and the state where you reside. Insurance companies have a TON of plans. Everything from individual to group to third party administrators (where the plan is administered by your company specifically and the insurance party does no more than determine coverage for a claim).
This is where you say, "Geez, Kelly, isn't that what I'm talking about? The insurance company decides if I'm sick enough or sick with the right thing. Baaaad insurance company." Ahh. This is true BUT, and this is a huge but, each of those three categories of coverage (individual, group, and TPA) have many, many policies under each. YOUR COMPANY decides which policy they buy based on what they think the biggest coverable issues are. THEY decide, not the insurance company. The insurance company would be happy to sell their most thorough plan.
Here's how it works. Your company, state, or your pocket book tries to figure out what would best cover their particular issues and under what circumstances. They cover x surgery but not if x is associated with y. Or they cover x with this many days recovery. Or they cover x if it is not work related. Or they cover x if you haven't been diagnosed with x in the past (fill in the blank because this time period is also determined by your employer) months. ALL OF THE VARIABLES are negotiable by your company.
I worked for Prudential, Fortis, Assurant, Hartford. These are fantastic companies in the industry and it's ALWAYS THE SAME. It is really easy to blame the insurance company but what is actually happening is, your company purchased a policy of their choosing and time frame from the insurance carrier. Now the Insurance carrier is LEGALLY OBLIGATED to give your claim due process so that if fits the plan the company purchased. They are not allowed to cover you for things which the policy from your employer binds them on. THEY CANNOT. They also cannot ignore pre-existing conditions or waiting periods. Not because they are mean, but because they are legally bound to do so.
Other inside info? They don't have to read you your policy. Read it yourself. Know what plan you signed up for and ASK QUESTIONS. There is not a single company that won't explain it to you if you ask and all of them keep meticulous records. If you asked a question and it wasn't explained, have them pull up the voice file and fight. All phone conversations are recorded. Not just some. If you don't understand your waiting periods, ask. Read your policy. It's a contract and you signed your name to it agreeing to the conditions. Would you sign your name to a house mortgage without knowing your rate or term? No.
Your claims person is also obligated to work within a time frame. Every so often a notice must be sent out to you whether or not your claim is being worked on. But standards require that your claim be "touched" within the first 30 days. It's a law. Communicate with your claims handler. The harder they have to work to get information out of you, the longer it will take to get paid because they have to dig for it. If they ask you for a doctor update, get them one. Make sure your doctor has a signed HIPAA release on file and he/she knows that they should take the calls when they come in.
I sound mean. Sorry. This is a truth about the industry. My situation is based on my contract with the state and what the state (as my pseudo company) offers, not what the insurance company offers. Remember the insurance company wants to earn money and the more thorough the policy the better for them, however, they are bound by contract to offer you only what they've been permitted to offer.
You know the Afflac commercials? Why do you think the duck is telling you to tell your company about their plan which covers so much? Because the insurance company wants your company to offer it. If they don't, the duck can't help you. Talk to your employers, tell them what you want. Get a group together if you have to.
This is just the facts. Make an informed decision about your coverage and then work with it to get the best coverage you can. If you have two or three choices, look at them and see what you want covered. But the insurance company isn't the bad guy. They're just the accountants.
~Kelly~
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Cat. Bag. Out.
On my personal blog yesterday I let the cat out of the bag on some juicy inside gossip. If you didn't read it, no worries, I'll post the gist of it here. Basically I write under two names. Kelly Kirch is the mainstream writer of Romantic Suspense and Regency Set Historicals. While the stories are warmish, they are not considered HOT by most industry standards. Sizzlin', sure.
Katie Blu writes erotica. She writes for Ellora's Cave and Total E Bound, though TEB does not yet have one of her books out yet. So I feel like I have a good grip on the variety seen in what is popular and to what extent. I also write under four imprints or three publishers and three editors for those names. It's an interesting juggle to say the least. I only recently admitted to the link between the two names as I felt it important to come clean. I was overwhelmed at the support from my friends who read the blog.
Basically it comes to this, mainstream is not as popular as erotic fiction. All my mainstream books in ebook format and print together do not total a single month from the brand new author Katie Blu made in a single month for a single work. No, I will not go into detail. I don't ask you what you make, do I?
It started as an experiment. Two blog friends of mine write erotica and we wondered what would happen if you put a name out there that you never promoted. Would the sales come in or did promo have a specific change in the numbers? Then came the urging of one of my editors. I was intrigued, believing I couldn't do a book with erotic elements. So never one to back out of a challenge, I penned Hot Under the Collar. I tried to put every situation I could think of in there to shock my editor. She, I discovered, is unshockable. I tried a few more times and still, no shock value.
In the whole experiment I posted a very few times to chats and a few times to blogs with excerpts. I rarely commented on the editor's loop to keep a low profile. But with my other name, Kirch, I posted constantly. I did all the foot work, schmoozing, blogging, chatting I could come up with. I purchased promo items and signed books. But it remained true that the erotica well outsold the other books.
Is it because erotica is easier to buy online than a bookstore, no embarrassment factor or judgments? Is it because it's sexier? Better story? Worse story? Maybe it's not just one thing but several. The experiment worked. I have proof for myself and a need for cash flow.
Erotica sells. Sex sells. No matter how you slice it, that's where the big bucks lie.
~Kelly~
Katie Blu writes erotica. She writes for Ellora's Cave and Total E Bound, though TEB does not yet have one of her books out yet. So I feel like I have a good grip on the variety seen in what is popular and to what extent. I also write under four imprints or three publishers and three editors for those names. It's an interesting juggle to say the least. I only recently admitted to the link between the two names as I felt it important to come clean. I was overwhelmed at the support from my friends who read the blog.
Basically it comes to this, mainstream is not as popular as erotic fiction. All my mainstream books in ebook format and print together do not total a single month from the brand new author Katie Blu made in a single month for a single work. No, I will not go into detail. I don't ask you what you make, do I?
It started as an experiment. Two blog friends of mine write erotica and we wondered what would happen if you put a name out there that you never promoted. Would the sales come in or did promo have a specific change in the numbers? Then came the urging of one of my editors. I was intrigued, believing I couldn't do a book with erotic elements. So never one to back out of a challenge, I penned Hot Under the Collar. I tried to put every situation I could think of in there to shock my editor. She, I discovered, is unshockable. I tried a few more times and still, no shock value.
In the whole experiment I posted a very few times to chats and a few times to blogs with excerpts. I rarely commented on the editor's loop to keep a low profile. But with my other name, Kirch, I posted constantly. I did all the foot work, schmoozing, blogging, chatting I could come up with. I purchased promo items and signed books. But it remained true that the erotica well outsold the other books.
Is it because erotica is easier to buy online than a bookstore, no embarrassment factor or judgments? Is it because it's sexier? Better story? Worse story? Maybe it's not just one thing but several. The experiment worked. I have proof for myself and a need for cash flow.
Erotica sells. Sex sells. No matter how you slice it, that's where the big bucks lie.
~Kelly~
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Accurately Inaccurate
Gotta say, first off, that I loved Anny's blog yesterday. Not only was she insightful but one commenter, Mona, left us a link to some top rate inconsistencies in finished film. It reminded me of an article I saw in college. It was a screen shot from Dangerous Liaisons in which the heroine in a full embrace by the rogue was pictured. There in a tiny hidden pocket was the top 1/4 inch of a certs roll. After the display yesterday, I wonder if the props master in Hollywood for each of those films still has a job or if the slip ups by-passed the director and the producer both. Must have to make it on film but sheesh.
One of my editors hates going to movies for this reason. She gets so caught up in the errors that she can't enjoy the film any longer. After an email from her one day, I went to a movie with my husband. I began paying very close attention to the small things. For example someone seen from the back and side with a check elevated in smile that isn't smiling when the camera shows the whole face. Or a woman who is lying down with her right knee up hasn't moved but the next camera cut shows the left knee upright. Moving moles and part lines, a change in the actress' shoes, an actor who suddenly appears to be left handed because the film was reversed.... It's all there to see.
How much of this distracts us and how much is creative license on the part of the director? Does it take me out of the story or can I gloss over it? In rudimentary writing classes I was told that anything distracting to the forward progression of the plot should be removed. But what's distracting and what's out and out inaccuracy?
Personally I find it a fun challenge to locate the tidbits. What annoys the heck out of me are major plot points or props going wonky. For example Indiana Jones and the yada yada yada that just came out nearly gave me a migraine of annoyance. The crystal skull is supposed to be solid and is approximately 18 inches long and at least 8 inches wide. Solid folks. Solid crystal. Yet the actors palm it in one hand, flip it up into the air and catch it like a tennis ball. They tilt it this way and that, they run without labor and basically fling the skull all over the place as though it weighed no more than a gnat.
And really who can blame them? Did you see the prop master's attempt at realism with that thing? I looked like a thin plastic shell filled with wadded up saran wrap. I'd throw that in the air too, only I wouldn't catch it. It was a glaring inaccuracy which ruined the movie for me. Suspend disbelief? Not possible. It had several scenes in the flick and I think I snorted through them all.
What are some of the inaccuracies you've found in a movie recently?
~Kelly~
One of my editors hates going to movies for this reason. She gets so caught up in the errors that she can't enjoy the film any longer. After an email from her one day, I went to a movie with my husband. I began paying very close attention to the small things. For example someone seen from the back and side with a check elevated in smile that isn't smiling when the camera shows the whole face. Or a woman who is lying down with her right knee up hasn't moved but the next camera cut shows the left knee upright. Moving moles and part lines, a change in the actress' shoes, an actor who suddenly appears to be left handed because the film was reversed.... It's all there to see.
How much of this distracts us and how much is creative license on the part of the director? Does it take me out of the story or can I gloss over it? In rudimentary writing classes I was told that anything distracting to the forward progression of the plot should be removed. But what's distracting and what's out and out inaccuracy?
Personally I find it a fun challenge to locate the tidbits. What annoys the heck out of me are major plot points or props going wonky. For example Indiana Jones and the yada yada yada that just came out nearly gave me a migraine of annoyance. The crystal skull is supposed to be solid and is approximately 18 inches long and at least 8 inches wide. Solid folks. Solid crystal. Yet the actors palm it in one hand, flip it up into the air and catch it like a tennis ball. They tilt it this way and that, they run without labor and basically fling the skull all over the place as though it weighed no more than a gnat.
And really who can blame them? Did you see the prop master's attempt at realism with that thing? I looked like a thin plastic shell filled with wadded up saran wrap. I'd throw that in the air too, only I wouldn't catch it. It was a glaring inaccuracy which ruined the movie for me. Suspend disbelief? Not possible. It had several scenes in the flick and I think I snorted through them all.
What are some of the inaccuracies you've found in a movie recently?
~Kelly~
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Just another Threeway?
Menage. It's not someone a business owner hires to coordinate other workers. You will not find the position of a Menager (manager). Nope. Wouldn't that be an eye-opener? "The position of Menager is now available with full benefits." Heh.
Because I'm the least likely of this crowd (okay, maybe James too) to approach this subject with any kind of authority, I decided to check out Wikipedia. I can't be the only one who reads this blog with only the barest understanding of what a menage a trois is. This is what Wikipedia says:
Ménage à trois is the French term describing a relationship or domestic arrangement in which three people, often a married couple and another lover, share a sexual relationship, although the relationship might or might not involve all three persons having sexual relations with each other. The French phrase literally translates as "household of three".
The official definition went on to describe how it is often termed a threesome. However upon looking up the definition of threesome, there is a noted misunderstanding between the two terms. A threesome can have any three people for the purposes of sex or furthering the sexual experience. That means the third person could be someone who watches the other two or someone who participates in fondling but not the sex act. Yes, it can mean participating in sex with the other two but the third party is often an invited outsider who is not a part of the couple's relationship. It's called "soft-swinging".
On the other hand Menage carries with it all the specifics of any three people having sex, specifically, and by requirement, are in a relationship together. This definition was most enlightening:
A threesome generally involves a couple that seeks out a third person for sex without the emotional entanglements that are normally seen in an open relationship. On the other hand, the term ménage à trois implies a special form of a threesome which involves an emotional bond among all three people and in many ways resembles more of an open relationship than a threesome.
How ignorant I was! I had no idea that a menage required a special bond between three people. I thought the bond I had seen in pieces from other authors (example: Anny Cook's Kama Sutra Lovers, Ellora's Cave-July 18th) was due to the author's preference in making a meaningful connection between her three characters. -See yesterday's Grip post- As Anny is someone who requires a deeper emotional connection between her characters to make the threeway believable.
Apparently though, there is a huge difference between a threeway and a menage. And apparently you can have a book with both! I suppose a fourway is a menage with a fourth person watching or peripherally participating... the options are endless now.
The definitions do open it up, don't they? That means if you are an exhibitionist in your sexual life, you are participating in a threeway, you soft-swinger you. I bet you had no idea.
What I find thoroughly intriguing is that the definition for Menage REQUIRES a bond between all three. We are not talking about being lose and free with a third you asked to come over. We are talking about a committed relationship of three people. Three people who are emotionally tied to one another, love one another, cannot imagine not being together and then taking those three people and joining them in the highest form of intimate contact. Changes the perspective doesn't it? Makes it less of a whispered word and more of a beautiful union.
And the difference is commitment. In the end, isn't it always about commitment? And isn't that the romance writer's code to the reader?
~Kelly~
Because I'm the least likely of this crowd (okay, maybe James too) to approach this subject with any kind of authority, I decided to check out Wikipedia. I can't be the only one who reads this blog with only the barest understanding of what a menage a trois is. This is what Wikipedia says:
Ménage à trois is the French term describing a relationship or domestic arrangement in which three people, often a married couple and another lover, share a sexual relationship, although the relationship might or might not involve all three persons having sexual relations with each other. The French phrase literally translates as "household of three".
The official definition went on to describe how it is often termed a threesome. However upon looking up the definition of threesome, there is a noted misunderstanding between the two terms. A threesome can have any three people for the purposes of sex or furthering the sexual experience. That means the third person could be someone who watches the other two or someone who participates in fondling but not the sex act. Yes, it can mean participating in sex with the other two but the third party is often an invited outsider who is not a part of the couple's relationship. It's called "soft-swinging".
On the other hand Menage carries with it all the specifics of any three people having sex, specifically, and by requirement, are in a relationship together. This definition was most enlightening:
A threesome generally involves a couple that seeks out a third person for sex without the emotional entanglements that are normally seen in an open relationship. On the other hand, the term ménage à trois implies a special form of a threesome which involves an emotional bond among all three people and in many ways resembles more of an open relationship than a threesome.
How ignorant I was! I had no idea that a menage required a special bond between three people. I thought the bond I had seen in pieces from other authors (example: Anny Cook's Kama Sutra Lovers, Ellora's Cave-July 18th) was due to the author's preference in making a meaningful connection between her three characters. -See yesterday's Grip post- As Anny is someone who requires a deeper emotional connection between her characters to make the threeway believable.
Apparently though, there is a huge difference between a threeway and a menage. And apparently you can have a book with both! I suppose a fourway is a menage with a fourth person watching or peripherally participating... the options are endless now.
The definitions do open it up, don't they? That means if you are an exhibitionist in your sexual life, you are participating in a threeway, you soft-swinger you. I bet you had no idea.
What I find thoroughly intriguing is that the definition for Menage REQUIRES a bond between all three. We are not talking about being lose and free with a third you asked to come over. We are talking about a committed relationship of three people. Three people who are emotionally tied to one another, love one another, cannot imagine not being together and then taking those three people and joining them in the highest form of intimate contact. Changes the perspective doesn't it? Makes it less of a whispered word and more of a beautiful union.
And the difference is commitment. In the end, isn't it always about commitment? And isn't that the romance writer's code to the reader?
~Kelly~
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Marriage Plot, NEW EXCERPT
Available NOW from Resplendence Publishing!
Nicolas closed the space between them. He could think of only one way to make the questions stop until he could settle on a better explanation. And damn if the idea of kissing her into silence didn’t appeal to him.
Her eyes widened.
This close, he could see flecks of brown and amber streaking through the honey in her irises. Her lashes fluttered but he did not miss the wary interest in them, or the way her breath caught as he leaned toward her.
“I’d rather continue your instruction,” he whispered.
“You’re trying to distract me from my purpose.”
“Would that be so wrong?” He brushed his mouth across hers.
Sensation sizzled like water droplets on a hearth. The sweet warmth of her breath tickled the sensitive flesh of his mouth. He wanted her to kiss him. He wanted her to reach up on her toes as she had the first time, thrilling him with her forwardness. Would she know what he was after?
He cupped the side of her face, stroking her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. His gaze lingered on hers until she lowered it to his mouth. There to the left, by the bridge of her nose, he found a faded freckle. Another below her right eye. Three along the slim line of her nose and a small, flat beauty mark at the corner of her lips. He’d not seen it before. Nicolas kissed it, reveling in the possessive curl of pleasure over her breathy gasp.
He cupped the side of her face, stroking her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. His gaze lingered on hers until she lowered it to his mouth. There to the left, by the bridge of her nose, he found a faded freckle. Another below her right eye. Three along the slim line of her nose and a small, flat beauty mark at the corner of her lips. He’d not seen it before. Nicolas kissed it, reveling in the possessive curl of pleasure over her breathy gasp.
Had Puck seen these same marks up close? Did Puck know Caroline had played outdoors without a bonnet when she was a child, marking her perfect skin with nearly invisible spots? They weren’t invisible to Nicolas.
He would have expected the reminder of her youth to pull him away from his current longing, to fade the lust boiling in his belly. Instead it only served to distance her from childhood, to fade her immaturity as it had faded her freckles, and make her appear that much more the woman. A woman, not a girl, from whom he desperately wanted a kiss.
Why had he stopped? His slow scrutiny tortured her. His heated gaze searching and settling on each feature warmed her as much as his hand on her cheek. His lips brushed the side of her mouth. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she gasped.
Why had he stopped? His slow scrutiny tortured her. His heated gaze searching and settling on each feature warmed her as much as his hand on her cheek. His lips brushed the side of her mouth. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until she gasped.
His face hovered over hers, too close for propriety, not nearly enough to satisfy her screaming senses. What did he wait for? Permission? Caroline rested her hand on his chest. The quick, strong beats of his heart were a metronome to the melody of her pulses. His lips parted, but still he did not move.
With a soft cry, Caroline rose up to meet him. Her lips claimed his since he would not claim hers. Their mouths bumped awkwardly in her haste but smoothed with heated flesh to heated flesh. Closing her eyes on sensation, she sighed against his mouth, wanting but not sure she knew how to take. It hadn’t been so complicated in the rain storm, when he had kissed her, showed her how to blend their mouths.
Shoving thought from her mind, she acted on instinct. Would he laugh at her clumsy seduction? The beat beneath her hand raced. Caroline’s lips sank into his, this time parting under him and capturing his bottom lip between hers.
He groaned.
Encouraged, she slid her free arm around his neck. Her legs trembled and Nicolas pulled her to him. His body supporting her, warming her, she drew back from his mouth, overwhelmed and uncertain.
But Nicolas wouldn’t let her.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Ahhhh Vacation
Ironically some of my best memories of vacation were the times I wasn't doing anything special at all. Like driving across country for fourteen hours and trying not to start something with my brother. Although, there was a very interesting moment on a long distance vacation I won't soon forget.
I was bored out of my mind and we were in two separate cars. I think we were about to move to Argentina from Georgia and were taking the "good" car to my grandparents for them to have. Anyway, on the way, mom was occupied and I decided to get creative. I grabbed my jump rope and quickly tied up my wrists and ankles. Then I lifted my hog-tied limbs to the window. With a panic stricken look and mouthing the words "help me! help me!" I floundered for a few passing cars. I got more than a couple of double takes and then decided I'd better stop. Mom didn't know about that dandy til years later. Wasn't pleased.
My favorite memory was a trip we took to the Black Forest in Germany. We were living in Saudi Arabia and it was less expensive to tour Europe than fly home to the States. So we went. I remember the half mile walk to the beginning of the forest and my discussion with Dad that it seemed impossibly longer than half a mile and was it really more than a mile if your legs were shorter like mine were. Then we discussed how many feet were in a mile to which I insisted Quinn was lying. He wasn't.
We stepped foot into the woods and there was no one else around on the path. The trees shot straight up, high into the air with few branched on the way. Mom said the canopy blocked out the light which is how the forest got its name. Quinn said that what the Black Forest needed was a little White Out (liquid correction fluid). Mom laughed, repeated the joke and said how clever he was. He beamed. I sulked because I wanted to be clever too so then pondered how I could make Mom laugh. Got nowhere.
At one point I had to "go" and Mom introduced me to squatting. I was not so talented at it and instead of hearing of my cleverness, I got a disgusted look. I laughed anyway and sloshed with soggy shoes through the woods. Later for lunch, mom had made special Nutella sandwiches. As an impromptu thing, she hid them in tree crooks, between rocks, in a tree hole (yes they were in plastic baggies) and we scavenged for them. Best. Memory. Ever. Mom is still surprised that this memory is so vivid for me. It was a great day.
Ha! Just thought of another. Quinn had graduated. Mom, Dad, and I went to Hawaii for vacation and SCUBA diving. We were miffed that at Pearl Harbor the Japanese tourists wanted to take our pictures over the wreck. We got into the car and drove to the top of a volcano look out. More tourists. On the way down, Mom had to "go" (gee there's a theme here). Dad pulled over. Mom opened her door and mine to provide coverage. She checked both ways and "went" just as two tour buses rounded the bend, stopped and cameras flashes poppoppop! taking pictures of her going. Dad and I busted a gut laughing.
Kinda like the time I almost drowned because I was laughing so hard when we all went SCUBA diving in Indonesia. Dad and Quinn were in one boat, Mom and I were in the other. She was so tired from diving that she could not haul herself into the boat. With two Indonesian men pulling, one on each arm, she finally flopped belly first onto the small deck, butt in air. Dad snapped pictures. She had tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks and joked about being a beached whale. How we hadn't expected to see whales on this trip. I hung onto the boat edge for dear life cackling and Quinn fell back into the water gulping mouthfuls.
Vacations as an adult are so different now. They aren't the same carefree chuckle-fests they used to be but we strive to make them special for the kids anyway. We hug a lot. We laugh. We create games on road trips which they beg to play again and again. We don't have the means to travel the world, but the family walks to the park, picnics in the backyard, and even house cleaning as a family have provided us memories which are truly special.
This summer will be no exception. We move this week. And after we unpack the beds and kitchen, we are hopping back into the car and driving to Texas where we will see Mom and Dad. They will take them all over the place and then we drive up to Minnesota to visit with MIL and the girls' only surviving great-grandparent, George (they've lost three this year). On our way back home, we will visit their godparents in Iowa, dear friends of ours. Upon returning, Scott will be installed as a vicar and the girls gear up for the year 'round school system. Gonna be busy, but I see ample room to create memories. Don't you?
~Kelly~
I was bored out of my mind and we were in two separate cars. I think we were about to move to Argentina from Georgia and were taking the "good" car to my grandparents for them to have. Anyway, on the way, mom was occupied and I decided to get creative. I grabbed my jump rope and quickly tied up my wrists and ankles. Then I lifted my hog-tied limbs to the window. With a panic stricken look and mouthing the words "help me! help me!" I floundered for a few passing cars. I got more than a couple of double takes and then decided I'd better stop. Mom didn't know about that dandy til years later. Wasn't pleased.
My favorite memory was a trip we took to the Black Forest in Germany. We were living in Saudi Arabia and it was less expensive to tour Europe than fly home to the States. So we went. I remember the half mile walk to the beginning of the forest and my discussion with Dad that it seemed impossibly longer than half a mile and was it really more than a mile if your legs were shorter like mine were. Then we discussed how many feet were in a mile to which I insisted Quinn was lying. He wasn't.
We stepped foot into the woods and there was no one else around on the path. The trees shot straight up, high into the air with few branched on the way. Mom said the canopy blocked out the light which is how the forest got its name. Quinn said that what the Black Forest needed was a little White Out (liquid correction fluid). Mom laughed, repeated the joke and said how clever he was. He beamed. I sulked because I wanted to be clever too so then pondered how I could make Mom laugh. Got nowhere.
At one point I had to "go" and Mom introduced me to squatting. I was not so talented at it and instead of hearing of my cleverness, I got a disgusted look. I laughed anyway and sloshed with soggy shoes through the woods. Later for lunch, mom had made special Nutella sandwiches. As an impromptu thing, she hid them in tree crooks, between rocks, in a tree hole (yes they were in plastic baggies) and we scavenged for them. Best. Memory. Ever. Mom is still surprised that this memory is so vivid for me. It was a great day.
Ha! Just thought of another. Quinn had graduated. Mom, Dad, and I went to Hawaii for vacation and SCUBA diving. We were miffed that at Pearl Harbor the Japanese tourists wanted to take our pictures over the wreck. We got into the car and drove to the top of a volcano look out. More tourists. On the way down, Mom had to "go" (gee there's a theme here). Dad pulled over. Mom opened her door and mine to provide coverage. She checked both ways and "went" just as two tour buses rounded the bend, stopped and cameras flashes poppoppop! taking pictures of her going. Dad and I busted a gut laughing.
Kinda like the time I almost drowned because I was laughing so hard when we all went SCUBA diving in Indonesia. Dad and Quinn were in one boat, Mom and I were in the other. She was so tired from diving that she could not haul herself into the boat. With two Indonesian men pulling, one on each arm, she finally flopped belly first onto the small deck, butt in air. Dad snapped pictures. She had tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks and joked about being a beached whale. How we hadn't expected to see whales on this trip. I hung onto the boat edge for dear life cackling and Quinn fell back into the water gulping mouthfuls.
Vacations as an adult are so different now. They aren't the same carefree chuckle-fests they used to be but we strive to make them special for the kids anyway. We hug a lot. We laugh. We create games on road trips which they beg to play again and again. We don't have the means to travel the world, but the family walks to the park, picnics in the backyard, and even house cleaning as a family have provided us memories which are truly special.
This summer will be no exception. We move this week. And after we unpack the beds and kitchen, we are hopping back into the car and driving to Texas where we will see Mom and Dad. They will take them all over the place and then we drive up to Minnesota to visit with MIL and the girls' only surviving great-grandparent, George (they've lost three this year). On our way back home, we will visit their godparents in Iowa, dear friends of ours. Upon returning, Scott will be installed as a vicar and the girls gear up for the year 'round school system. Gonna be busy, but I see ample room to create memories. Don't you?
~Kelly~
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Hero
She is pregnant. He had just saved her from a fire in her house, rescuing her by carrying her out of the house into her front yard, then he continued to fight the fire.
When he finally got done putting the fire out,
When he finally got done putting the fire out,
he sat down to catch his breath and rest.
A photographer from the Charlotte , North Carolina news-
A photographer from the Charlotte , North Carolina news-
paper, noticed her in the distance looking at the fireman.
He saw her walking straight toward the firefighter
He saw her walking straight toward the firefighter
and wondered what she was going to do.
As he raised his camera, she came up to the tired man who had just saved her life and the lives of her babies and kissed him just as the photographer snapped this photograph.
As he raised his camera, she came up to the tired man who had just saved her life and the lives of her babies and kissed him just as the photographer snapped this photograph.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Guest Blogger: Anita Birt
Today the Oh Get a Grip! crew welcomes guest blogger, Cerridwen Press author, Anita Birt! ACCIDENTAL AUTHOR
I've been a reader since I first learned how to sound out printed letters and link them into words. I was also a devious child. I had and still have a very good memory. My mother thought I was reading from a children's story book but I was pretending. I had memorized the whole thing. It had pictures and text and that made it easy to remember.
How and when did I decide to write seriously? Here's how it happened. My husband and I have known the Franciscan Sisters of The Eucharist for years. Their small convent is located at Bridal Veil, Oregon close by the Columbia River. I was walking the grounds with Mother Mary Michael on one of our visits and I said. "Someone should write the history of this house." And Mother Michael said. "Why don't you?" I had never written a book nor done the kind of research required to put together the history of the house. It was built in 1917 as a summer home by a wealthy couple. Little miracles happened along the way that helped me fill in the history.
If you wonder how two Canadians living in Toronto met the Sisters you'll have to read my book – or ask me! My book is called The House at Bridal Veil. Used copies are available at Amazon.com and ABE books. Check my web site if you're interested in seeing the picture of the house, (it is gorgeous) a little blurb and a map.
Having written a book, what should I do with my idle computer? I decided to try writing romance. Looked easy. I wrote a fantastic story, sent it off to Harlequin and waited for the check to arrive in the mail. My book was rejected but nothing daunted I joined Romance Writers of America and the local chapter. I attended conferences, workshops and joined a critique group. Yes, I learned to write and have had five romance novels accepted by Cerriwden Press.
What keeps me motivated when sales suck? I am fortunate. I'm not trying to earn a living from my writing so when sales suck one month, they usually are better the following month. I don't expect huge returns on my writing investment. I write because I want to. I like creating stories. But it would be nice to hit the New York Times Best Seller List. Dream on, Anita.
I've never suffered writer's block. My present work in progress is a historical romance.
I have decided to take extra time with it. I know where it's going and how it will end. Getting there is half the fun. I'm into the middle now, a critical point. I also have two contemporary romances finished and ready for revision.
TOO YOUNG TO DIE
When Ellie Paxton accepted the position of Nanny with Computer Skills to care for three month old, Nicki Blesnicoff she cheerfully moved to her employer's mansion located deep in the Cascade Mountains in Washington. She'd save money, rescue her sinking bank balance and revive her credit cards. Private re-hab to treat her shop-a-holic problem.
What she hadn't factored into her new job were threats of rape, torture and death by armed thugs who invaded the mansion during the absence of Nicki's parents. A city girl not given to feats of derring-do, Ellie wrapped Nicki in a soft blanket and escaped with him into a dense, terrifying forest. At midnight.
As dawn light filtered through the trees, Jack Merano and his two tracking dogs found Ellie huddling with the baby. A nanny and a baby. What could be more innocently appealing? Rescuing her and the bay from the dangerous forest was the easy part but soon enough Jack learned there was a price on Ellie's head and a master criminal stalking her.
Too Young to Die is out now at Cerridwen Press. Click here or on the cover above for more information.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Writing on the Wall
Why do I write? Because not writing isn't an option. I've tried so I can honestly say that I know this to be true. I went four years not writing and what resulted was constant inattention to real life.
I'd phase out in a conversation because a "what if" scenario reared it's head. (Say Suzie-Q told me there was an accident on the bridge to work. I'd be thinking about the secret top agent who'd shot the driver in order to steal government secrets and how the news would cover it up tonight as a traffic incident.) I'd forget names in an introduction within seconds. I'd drive to and from work and not remember the drive because I was day dreaming through a complicated plot or problem. I had several near accidents while driving.
But the most disturbing had to be the smudging of the line between reality and fiction.
What do I mean by this. Well, I got to the point where the people in my head had become so real to me that I would share anecdotes about them to my true life friends then belatedly realize what I was doing. At that point, I dusted off my hands and started typing. Cause buddies, that's messed up.
Keeping motivated isn't generally a problem with a plot which has you in its thrall. I've had a little trouble with a book on deadline because the clock is ticking instead of the creative urge. I prefer letting the characters take over. Let's face it. They don't take over every single day. But on deadline, you have to push them.
Sure you wind up with bad spots, but you delete those and rework on the days where they do come out to play. Honestly, I find that pushing them makes my characters speak up. ("Hey, I'd never do something that stupid.") Then the plot takes off.
Basically though, motivation is about finding the flow. Ever notice that writing isn't a chore when it moves freely? Then the words can't pour out of you fast enough! But hit a dry moment and the chasm between here and the end is immense. At those times you discipline yourself to take hold of the situation and just write.
For the most part, it works. I've had some stuff released now. Not like Anny, Cindy, Rita, or James, but stuff. I've had one mediocre review and the rest were great. I have a few ratings on Fictionwise I'm not thrilled about, but you can't please everyone. It doesn't matter. Ultimately whether you write or not is in your blood.
If you can't NOT write then a review is merely a temporary stone on your path to the next book.
Sure we want everyone to love us. But realistically that ain't gonna happen. Do you love your work? Then that's all that matters. You'll find your niche. You fans will find you and as long as you keep typing and staying sane, who the heck cares?
I'd phase out in a conversation because a "what if" scenario reared it's head. (Say Suzie-Q told me there was an accident on the bridge to work. I'd be thinking about the secret top agent who'd shot the driver in order to steal government secrets and how the news would cover it up tonight as a traffic incident.) I'd forget names in an introduction within seconds. I'd drive to and from work and not remember the drive because I was day dreaming through a complicated plot or problem. I had several near accidents while driving.
But the most disturbing had to be the smudging of the line between reality and fiction.
What do I mean by this. Well, I got to the point where the people in my head had become so real to me that I would share anecdotes about them to my true life friends then belatedly realize what I was doing. At that point, I dusted off my hands and started typing. Cause buddies, that's messed up.
Keeping motivated isn't generally a problem with a plot which has you in its thrall. I've had a little trouble with a book on deadline because the clock is ticking instead of the creative urge. I prefer letting the characters take over. Let's face it. They don't take over every single day. But on deadline, you have to push them.
Sure you wind up with bad spots, but you delete those and rework on the days where they do come out to play. Honestly, I find that pushing them makes my characters speak up. ("Hey, I'd never do something that stupid.") Then the plot takes off.
Basically though, motivation is about finding the flow. Ever notice that writing isn't a chore when it moves freely? Then the words can't pour out of you fast enough! But hit a dry moment and the chasm between here and the end is immense. At those times you discipline yourself to take hold of the situation and just write.
For the most part, it works. I've had some stuff released now. Not like Anny, Cindy, Rita, or James, but stuff. I've had one mediocre review and the rest were great. I have a few ratings on Fictionwise I'm not thrilled about, but you can't please everyone. It doesn't matter. Ultimately whether you write or not is in your blood.
If you can't NOT write then a review is merely a temporary stone on your path to the next book.
Sure we want everyone to love us. But realistically that ain't gonna happen. Do you love your work? Then that's all that matters. You'll find your niche. You fans will find you and as long as you keep typing and staying sane, who the heck cares?
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Where's the Bukkit? Gotta find the Bukkit...
When I think of bucket these days, I think of those LOLcats and the seals waiting for their bukket. At any rate, there are always things I want to do. Sometimes they shift and evolve into new things. For the meantime, here is mine...
1. Make the New York Times bestseller list. I don't care if it's print or ebook, I wanna get there. Although I do think it would be pretty great to have "arrived" as an ebook. Think of all the attention ebooks would get, the free publicity for green reading. Now that would be an eye-opener!
2. Take a cruise. I've seen the Alaska one where you fish for salmon (my faaaaavorite fish), the Mediterranean, where I've been but not as a luxury thing, or around the Gulf. I think the most interesting one is the old fashioned wind cruises with huge billowing sails. Yes, I think that one is the one I'd enjoy most.
3. Take my immediate family to all the countries I've lived in so I can show them the house, the school where I grew up. They don't get it now and I can't drive down a street and point like normal people. I'd love to share that part of myself with them.
4. To have some of my favorite authors, Julia Quinn, Sabrina Jeffries, Elizabeth Lowell, Jude Devereaux tell me they've read my work and LOVE IT! Really, do I need to elaborate on this?
5. Be asked to make one of my pieces into a movie. Even if it never happened, I want to be asked. (I seem to have a theme around writing. I know, it's hard to tell how passionate I am about success in the industry, right?)
6. My grandkids. I want to see my children grow into fabulous adults and raise their own fabulous adults. I wanna see it happen if to only show myself that I didn't completely screw them up.
7. Go back to England. Last time I was there, I was a child. I didn't "get" the historical significance or appreciate the age of the castle ruins I climbed all over. I'd like to see it through adult eyes and share that with my family.
8. Have a foreign vacation every year with the kids and husband. May not seem like much, but it is. We haven't had a vacation in years that didn't involve everyone under the sun. I'd love to take them exploring around the world, open their eyes to cultural diversity and show them how very very awesome it is to be a part of it.
9. Hugh Jackman and Orlando Bloom. Sorry Scott, but it is a wish list.
10. Time travel. Yes another impossibility (see above) but it truly is something I'd like to do before I die. So bite me over the technicalities.
What are your must do's?
~Kelly~
1. Make the New York Times bestseller list. I don't care if it's print or ebook, I wanna get there. Although I do think it would be pretty great to have "arrived" as an ebook. Think of all the attention ebooks would get, the free publicity for green reading. Now that would be an eye-opener!
2. Take a cruise. I've seen the Alaska one where you fish for salmon (my faaaaavorite fish), the Mediterranean, where I've been but not as a luxury thing, or around the Gulf. I think the most interesting one is the old fashioned wind cruises with huge billowing sails. Yes, I think that one is the one I'd enjoy most.
3. Take my immediate family to all the countries I've lived in so I can show them the house, the school where I grew up. They don't get it now and I can't drive down a street and point like normal people. I'd love to share that part of myself with them.
4. To have some of my favorite authors, Julia Quinn, Sabrina Jeffries, Elizabeth Lowell, Jude Devereaux tell me they've read my work and LOVE IT! Really, do I need to elaborate on this?
5. Be asked to make one of my pieces into a movie. Even if it never happened, I want to be asked. (I seem to have a theme around writing. I know, it's hard to tell how passionate I am about success in the industry, right?)
6. My grandkids. I want to see my children grow into fabulous adults and raise their own fabulous adults. I wanna see it happen if to only show myself that I didn't completely screw them up.
7. Go back to England. Last time I was there, I was a child. I didn't "get" the historical significance or appreciate the age of the castle ruins I climbed all over. I'd like to see it through adult eyes and share that with my family.
8. Have a foreign vacation every year with the kids and husband. May not seem like much, but it is. We haven't had a vacation in years that didn't involve everyone under the sun. I'd love to take them exploring around the world, open their eyes to cultural diversity and show them how very very awesome it is to be a part of it.
9. Hugh Jackman and Orlando Bloom. Sorry Scott, but it is a wish list.
10. Time travel. Yes another impossibility (see above) but it truly is something I'd like to do before I die. So bite me over the technicalities.
What are your must do's?
~Kelly~
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