Confessions of a Blonde Writer

Dear Santa...

2009-12-13T18:06:00.004-06:00

Dear Santa,

It’s been many years since I’ve written you a letter. I apologize for that, but you know how it is. You grow up and you get really busy raising children and working and generally just trying to survive that you never quite find the time to check in with old friends. This year has been no exception—and, in fact, has been busier and more hectic than ever—but something just starting niggling in the back of my mind telling me that I should drop you a line. Here goes.

“What do I want for Christmas?” you ask. I have everything I want this Christmas, thank you very much. I have my handsome husband Adrian who is every girl’s dream man beside me and things couldn’t be better. My oldest daughter is coming home for Christmas from her graduate studies abroad, and she’s staying with us for the month. I am very grateful for that, but after the month of sharing the same bathroom we might be singing a different tune.

My youngest daughter will be home soon from college, too. She can’t wait to see her sister, and I can’t wait to see her. She attends school only 120 miles away, but she rarely gets a ride into town. I’m praying for reconciliation and times of honest conversation with both her and her sister.

If there’s one thing I wish you could bring me, Santa, it’s another way to make a living. I really miss writing and promoting my books, but it doesn’t pay the rent (or even the groceries or the electric bill). My day job is now ten hours a day and they’re pressuring me to work overtime as well. I physically and mentally can’t take it much longer there. Could you please help me to find a more uplifting job closer to where I live that doesn’t drain me so much? With the extra time and flow of creative juices, I could get back into writing again. It would make me ever so happy. Thanks.

Also, if you could, can you tell those folks on your “naughty” list that pirating e-books (as well as song files and movies) is just plain wrong? I never really worried about e-book pirating until recently—the big sales of Kindles and Sony e-Readers has caused the plague of e-piracy to grow. I’ve even come across some of my books being pirated at various pirate sites. I suppose I should feel flattered, but instead I feel worse than ever. I have little energy to write lately with the long hours at the day job that I’m forced to take since writing pays so very little, and people are stealing royalties from me whenever they don’t purchase my e-books from legitimate sources. And it’s not just me who is hurting—I have hundred of writing acquaintances who are also being robbed of royalties by e-pirates. I know many of these new Kindle owners don’t understand how important it is to us small fry authors and how little money we make on our books. Could you please put a bug in their ear and ask them how they’d feel if someone stole something they created so callously and without regard to the income they’re denying their families? Thanks again.

I suppose it’s time I sign off now, Santa. You’ve got a busy night coming soon, and you need to save your energy to give to those who are truly in need. I’m looking forward to the time when everyone everywhere will receive what they truly need at Christmas—of peace on earth, goodwill to men. Then the need to spend massive sums of money we don’t have, on presents we don’t really need, will simply fade away…

Affectionately yours,
Cynthianna

Cannibal Feast!!

2009-10-25T18:37:00.003-05:00

The Gruesome Twosome...

What were you expecting on the week of Halloween? A cheery little blog about a quaint little garden party complete with tea and crumpets and scones with lemon curd?

This past week we were invited to a cannibal feast… And yes, a dead corpse was there along with pate of gray matter and other yummy bits like eyeballs, fingers and worms in dirt. After all, once you dismember the corpse and roast its innards, the worms get to have their feast on the leftovers.

Soylent green, anyone?

One can’t arrive at a cannibal feast in just any ol’ regalia. Oh, no, no, no. One must arrive in the manner one has been invited, which means simply you can’t come dressed up as Dora the Explorer or Tinkerbelle (unless she’s a Goth Tinkerbelle with fangs—that would do nicely). So, my better half and I came as a gun-shot victim and a vampire victim from the 18th century. Our re-enactment clothing has really come in handy this year, as you can tell.

Brain pate on crackers...

This fall has been cold and dark and damp here in the middle of the country, and what with the lackluster economy, things have seemed a bit bleak lately. It’s good to see that many can put these none-to-happy thoughts behind them and get into the Halloween ghoulish spirit. There’s nothing better to take your mind off your troubles like a good party and dress-up occasion. I recommend it highly. Plus, you could always pretend it’s your boss or co-workers who are being barbecued and presented for your consumption…

Bon appetite! (Burp!)

***
If you enjoy vampire stories minus the cannibal feasts, check out my Liquid Silver Book titles HELP! I’M FALLING FOR THE VAMPIRE NEXT DOOR and my novella “Blood Betrayal” in OF FLESH AND BLOOD. Excerpts available at LSB and at my alter-ego's web site: http://www.celinechatillon.com

Voyages Around the Time Line!

2009-09-22T21:20:00.017-05:00

Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve posted a blog, but I really have a good excuse this month. I’ve been traveling around the timeline.... Literally! No kidding. I even have some photos to prove it.

Before I forget, I’ll be traveling into the future the weekend of October 2-4 to Archon, a science-fiction convention in Collinsville, Illinois. I always enjoy meeting readers, fans and other interesting people at Archon, so be sure to drop in on one of the panels I’ll be on and introduce yourself. I hope to have some copies of my fantasy-screwball comedy, time-traveling novel, LOVING WHO, with me to sign and sell. (Keep your fingers crossed the publisher gets them to me in time.)

Other time periods I’ve experienced this past month include the pre-Civil War period in the “northernmost Confederate-sympathizing city” of Hannibal, Missouri. My husband, Adrian, and I even met and shook hands with Mark Twain “himself”. He’s looking great for his age. What a witty man—marvelously entertaining! Other sites of interest in the Hannibal area included eating at Lulabelle’s, a former bordello (it was in operation up until the 1950s) and touring not one, but two caves. Check out Hannibal for scenic views of the Mississippi and small town life as it was not so many decades ago.

During Labor Day weekend, we visited two historic forts across the Mississippi—Fort De Chatres and Fort Kaskaskia. The first is a French fort built in the early 18th century that was eventually demolished by the British after the French and Indian War. It is partially reconstructed and stands as a testament to a long ago time when other powers ruled this part of the world. Just a few miles down the road stands the remains of Fort Kaskaskia, where Lewis and Clark recruited a dozen men to go on their Voyage of Discovery in 1804. The cemetery of the lost city of Kaskaskia lies nearby, a testament to the power of the river to completely wipe out Illinois’ first capital city in the later half of the 19th century.

From the pre-Civil War period/early colonial era, we jumped back to the late 17th/early 18th century and the Spanish Main as we traveled to the St. Louis Pirate Fest up in Wentzville, Missouri. Yo-ho-ho and a nice pickled egg, me mateys! Pirate Fest has lots of fun entertainment from guys in short pants and more earrings than a jewelry store along with great music groups, such as "3 Pints Gone" and "Queen’s Gambit". We enjoyed food like “bangers and mash” and “jugged fish” while watching the pirates duke it out with the “French” of “Port Royal”. A family-friendly event, Pirate Fest is the last three weekends in September each year. Plan to come aboard!

We hovered around the 18th century and then plunged the next weekend into the 1750s to experience the intense drama of the French and Indian War at Koh-koh-mah, a historic reenactment near Kokomo, Indiana. Primitive camping with plenty of wood smoke permeating your clothes and hair--ah! It was enjoyable weekend in spite of the fact there were no showers or flush toilets. But, hey! This is 250 years ago… You just put on more layers of clothes to cover your funk. I enjoyed wearing long skirts up until Sunday afternoon when a short rain shower broke, drenching the reenacting field and muddying the hem of my nice gown.

But there’s no crying in reenactment—there’s just mud and dust and grime and smoke and lots of fun discussing the lifestyle of the French, British and Native Americans of the era. Adrian had a great time portraying a 78th Frasier Highlander shooting his musket at those pesky French persons who tried to take over the fictional fort. In the end, the British prevailed. (Historically speaking, twenty years down the road, these very same Frasier Highlander soldiers would go on to exact a sort of Scottish vengeance against their English cousins during the American Revolution.) The saddest thing to come out of the French and Indian War, however, is that it soured relations among the English speakers and the Native Americans who had formerly been their allies. The tribes who aligned themselves to the two European superpowers essentially signed away any goodwill they once shared with the white frontier peoples. Many reenactors demonstrated Native American arts and crafts and social/family life at Koh-koh-mah. Without “living historians” how would we know about their rich culture?

Another time travel stop we made this past month (alas, I didn’t have my camera!) was the Wilson’s Creek Battlefield near Springfield, Missouri. Site of one of the bloodiest battles of the early Civil War period, today it lies in a remote, quiet pasture of rolling hills and a bubbling creek… Hard to believe about 3,000 men lost their lives there on an August morning in 1861.

It’s fun being a time-traveler. I plan on using some of the great research I’ve done this past month in a future story or novel. I’d start writing it now if only I had the time--or a time machine!

Will Write for Food!

2009-08-19T21:19:00.005-05:00

Our wedding cake was rather unusual... It was shaped like a TARDIS, the time travel capsule from the BBC series Doctor Who.

I was going to write a little something about my recent marriage to fellow author AJ Matthews, but he beat me to the punch. To quote my English-born hubby: “Ah, bugger!” No matter, I can always find another lofty topic to pontificate upon for this blog, right?

That last sentence proves that I am rusty and don’t have a clue what to write, doesn’t it? Sigh!

I confess I’m terribly out of practice. Think of me as a ballplayer who has been injured and set out on the bench all summer long… and I haven’t been called in to play until the very last play of the very last game of the very last championship series. It’s all up to me to knock one out of the ballpark and make a big “hit” to the adoration of the cheering crowds. Oh, dear… I swung and missed. My confidence has struck out faster than my vain attempts at fanning the air.

(Hmm, note to self: Do not attempt to be creative while listening to the Rolling Stones croon the classic, “Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown”. Yeah, it’s a catchy tune with a great danceable beat but still… It just reinforces the fact that I’ve not been able to write anything more than an email in quite some time now, and I’m terrified I won’t be able to write something coherent.)

You’d think being recently married to the most gorgeous, most charming and loving male on Planet Earth would inspire me to write some hot love scenes—and don’t think that it doesn’t—but unfortunately the demanding “day job” gets in the way. It’s either spend what little energy and free time I retain after toiling in the salt mines all week long with the new handsome hubby or completely ignore him and my need for sleep and write. I have chosen the former and not the latter.

Given the choice of which of the two—writing or the day job—to give up the answer is rather easy—I’d lose the day job in a flash if I could support the two of us on my writing. Unfortunately, even when I was fairly free to write full-time, I still couldn’t make a living of it. Sure, I could pay a few bills and go to a few writers’ conferences, but I couldn’t consistently pay rent or keep the heat on in the winter. And always I have this need to eat… Not a lot, mind you, but at least three meals a day, or I pass out from hunger.

So when there’s a choice of write and starve (and freeze) the two of us or stay and slave in the salt mines, you can see what decision I’m forced to make.

But I am more than willing to keep looking for employment elsewhere—employment that doesn’t drain my physical energy and ruin my eyes staring at a flat screen (two actually) all day long and playing with numbers (not my forte). Any and all employers you might know of open looking for a creative type who doesn’t enjoy mindless data entry and anal retentive paper-pushing eight hours a day, any work you think might appeal to a displaced romance novelist, feel free to send my way. Thanks!

In the meantime, don’t forget to buy my books… I still have a few out there and every sale is appreciated. Thanking you in advance… and now it’s back to the grind. That salt doesn’t mine itself, you know!

Our Wedding Day

2009-07-12T07:36:00.007-05:00

Walking down the bridal path...

Yes, it's been a long time since I posted a blog or sent out a newsletter--please forgive me! I guess my best excuse for not writing lately is that I've had a lot on my mind, and now I have another good reason--and all six foot and handsome it is!

Here are some pictures from our recent wedding ceremony. You can view more online at the title link above.

We are gathered here...

Adrian is British and a writer, too. Here is his web site. He enjoys historical re-enacting, hence our rather unique wedding apparel. I'm encouraging him to write now while he's waiting on Uncle Sam to process his paperwork to work legally in this country. But in the meantime, I'm working long hours in the "real world" to pay our bills. Sigh! I do miss writing fiction, non-fiction, anything but emails and brief Twitter or Facebook messages to friends and family, but I have simply neither the time nor the energy to do more. I have to also take care of my college-age daughters (translation: money, more of it needed) and I still do freelance editorial work on the side. There aren't enough hours in the day to really start a writing project, let alone finish one.

The happy couple in 1750s era costume.

I do have some ideas for future novels and stories, and eventually I hope to have my act together so I can at least get started on them. I'll be posting things here when I can, and I'll let you all know when I have any good news about my books in my monthly newsletter.

In the meantime, enjoy the photos of our happy wedding day! (I know I do!)

Alive and Well and Living in a Cleaner Home...

2009-05-24T21:21:00.004-05:00

I got some print copies of my novel LOVING WHO. Looks nice! Available at Amazon, too.

I know it’s been a while—almost two months since I checked in. Forgive me. It’s been stressful, but I’ve made it through to the end of May and happy days are right around the corner.

My fiancé is arriving this week! And I’ve been cleaning house like mad. I’ve not had the energy to do so recently, and I pulled my back out a few weeks ago, but somehow piece by piece I’ve picked up around here. Now to tackle the vacuuming… That might just send me back to the chiropractor if I’m not careful.

I’ve not done much in the way of creative writing, but I’ve been watching a lot of DVDs from the library lately. They’re free and if they’re not quite “latest releases” that’s okay with me. I’ve not been to a movie in the theatre in eons. Well, I’ll take that back. I did see one new movie this past month, Star Trek.

What did I think about it? Hmm… Do I give a spoiler alert or assume you’ve seen it (or heard all about it) already? I hate to spoil a movie for anyone, so I’ll take a neutral position. I’m withholding my opinion on it until I see a sequel. There’s got to be a sequel… It just seems too obvious they introduced all these characters in less than two hours not to bring them back for another two hours of action. Action junkies will love this new incarnation of Star Trek. Fans of the classic series might have a few quibbles with a few plot points (I did), but overall I think its heart is in the right place.

My heart is getting back to its “right place” too. Once my fiancé is here we’ll be planning our wedding in earnest. The Fourth of July is our tentative date. Why not celebrate Independence Day with a wedding? The fireworks are built in!

It’s shaping up to be an exciting summer. Hopefully I’ll find a moment free to do some writing, too.

April Showers Bring May Flowers

2009-04-04T14:21:00.001-05:00

The sun sets over Caister Castle... and so do I.

Another month has come and gone—and I didn’t get hardly anything I wanted to get done in March, done. For some reason, I just can’t give up sleeping, eating or taking daily showers. Those sorts of things really cut into your free time, you know—especially the sleeping.

I’m not getting any creative writing projects I’ve started finished. I’d had hoped to do so during my week off, but I just didn’t have the will to write more than a few pages on my work-in-progress. I’ll admit it, too—my heart simply isn’t into writing fiction lately. E-publishers are folding right and left it seems, taking some of my books along with them. I can’t afford to go to writing conferences and schmooze with the agents and editors from the big houses, so I can’t get a foot in the door by making a personal connection. And having a foot in the door seems to be the only way to gain the big guys’ attention these days.

Everyone with a computer seems to have written a book this past year. The submissions are flooding the slushpiles. You have to do something outrageous or illegal—or both—to get an editor’s attention. Just look at former governor Rod Blagojevich. He’s done both—and now he’s got his own radio talk show. You really wonder if becoming a criminal is where it’s at for becoming a best-selling author.

Oh, well. I can sit around and mope and groan, or I can crawl back into the saddle and get going again. Since I like horses, I’ll go the saddle route.

I think I’ll put the novel writing on hiatus until I’m unemployed at the end of May. Between trying to find another job and keeping the work I have currently, I don’t have energy to write creatively. I can write a short piece here or there (like my blogs), but the stamina to keep my concentration focused for 50,000 words or more isn’t there. I have to spend my free time sending out resumes and dealing with the rejection emails/snail mails. You think an editor’s rejection of your manuscript is bad? “Sorry, but we don’t want you to work for us,” is a lot worse, especially when your bills are due.

Lots of writers tell me this phase will pass, but I’m not so sure. It just feels like that if I give up writing fiction for a short while I’ll never return to it, and that’s tantamount to cutting out my heart. The good news is that my heart is in good hands. April may bring showers, but I’m hoping to have plenty of flowers by May when my fiancé arrives in the US. Then I’ll have another excuse for not writing—but it will be a much happier one!

Trying to Get My Groove Back

2009-02-24T21:36:00.005-06:00

You ever hear of the Book-in-a-Month challenge? I successfully completed one such challenge a few years back (My Brandi Whyne series). Recently, life has gotten in the way of me taking up another one. I need to get back into the habit of writing fiction regularly. I don’t have a month free at this point, but I do have a week. One whole week. I thought in March I’d do a “Book-in-a-Week” challenge during my spring break.

Am I insane? Well, of course I am! But everyone needs a goal, a swift kick to the pants to get them moving again. This certainly will motivate me to write, because to draft a whole novel (50,000 words approx.) in one week I will have to average twenty pages or more a day. That’s about twice as many pages as I’ve ever written in my life. Talk about a lofty goal!

The book I want to write in March is tentatively titled Leaving Who. It's the sequel to my fantasy-adventure-romantic-comedy Loving Who, which is now available in print at Amazon as well as in e-formats from Mojocastle Press.

Habits are hard to break, and I’m out of the habit of writing everyday. Sure, I write emails and work on other paying writing projects, but I’m exhausted by the end of the day from my day job. I fall into my desk chair after I come home from work and turn into an email junkie most nights. It’s not a pretty sight. I seem to be related to or befriended by every email joke junkie from here to Alpha Centauri. I can’t resist junk email, either. I sit brain dead for hours forwarding funnies and Maxine cartoons and chain prayers to friends and family members—who in return send them back to me—and soon I’m drowning in them. Help!

Long ago in the early days of the Internet, I purposefully didn’t check my email until after I’d written my “pages” for the day. I was more disciplined. I made myself write the scene, or as much as I could of a scene, before I dialed up and opened the email box that day. And I only had the one email address, too, and not the multitude I have nowadays.

I can’t easily get rid of the email addresses (they do come in handy at times), and I can’t tell my friends and relatives not to send me email jokes, funnies, prayers, links, and spoofs without hurting their feelings. But there is one thing I can do: I can make a promise to myself for one week to write those pages before I crack open the email box.

It’s going to be tough. I know it. I’ll have to get up early in the morning and not open the “box”… but the email will still be there, calling to me, enticing me away from my task. But I will persevere and make that valiant attempt to finish a novel manuscript. Wish me luck!

PS Check out my latest blog about St. Louis at the Examiner.com Feel free to leave a comment there--or here for that matter! I enjoy hearing back from readers.

These Times Are A 'Changing!

2009-01-24T18:53:00.005-06:00

These times are a'changing... Find out what these thousands are up to in the blog below!

Happy Chinese New Year!

It’s the Year of the Ox they say. Okay, it’s not as flashy as the Year of the Dragon or as comical as the Year of the Monkey, but where would we be without the dependable ol’ ox? We’d all be starving—or at least our ancestors would have starved and we wouldn’t be here now, would we? The ox pulls the plow, the plow tills the field so the farmer can sow grain, and the grain grows so we can have bread. Slow and steady, the ox is a dependable animal that shouldn’t be thought less of or teased for his understated elegance. So, Happy Year of the Ox! May all of us have the strength to trudge along, pulling our plows, like the sturdy, reliable ox.

I realize my New Year’s resolutions are already off, as this blog wasn’t updated earlier in the month as I had intended. I hit the ground running in 2009 with several freelance work projects, and I haven’t had a chance to come up for air until now. But it’s been an exciting year so far, right? We have a new president and hopefully a new sense of optimism. It’s time for a change. I agree.

I know I personally and professionally need to make some changes. I’m working on them—it is difficult and I’m a great procrastinator. I need more people in my life to hold me to my goals and make me work toward my dreams. I confess that I’ve not been writing fiction lately at all. My heart hasn’t been in it. I miss my daughters a lot, and I don’t hear from them often. I work a long, draining job and make a hideous commute daily, and it’s exacting a toll on my body and soul. I seem to catch all the viruses going around. I suffer back and leg pain to an excruciating degree some days. Bitch, bitch, whine, whine, moan, moan…

I would like to say my New Year’s resolutions include getting a decent paying job that isn’t located halfway across the county, but I have to be realistic. The unemployment rate is dismal here as it elsewhere. I’m pretty much stuck with what I’ve stumbled upon until I stumble upon another position. But I can make changes.

I can say that I will write more fiction this year and get those promised sequels to my fantasy-romantic-comedy LOVING WHO and the next story in “The Paranormal Lovers of St. Louis” series out there. I don’t make much money from my fiction writing, but I do enjoy it. Occasionally, one of my readers tells me that they enjoy it, too. That makes it all worth it.

One tiny bit of “change” I did today was go to an open casting call right here in the St. Louis area. Yeah—a movie with George Clooney is going to start filming here in March. It’s based on the novel Up in the Air, and they needed an airport terminal. Guess what? Since St. Louis is no longer a hub airport, Lambert Field has a completely empty concourse for them to use as a set. They need something like 2100 extras to fill it up. I thought, “Why not?” I might not get “the call” but at least I can say I tried.

(I actually have been an extra before, once on an indie film. I went running and screaming up a dark street in a low budget zombie flick. I had fun. Everyone should have to run away from zombies now and then.)

So in case I ever make it big on the Silver Screen, you can say you knew me when I was just a lowly, underpaid, struggling writer. Autographs will still be free, too. ;)

My Angels

2008-12-02T21:50:00.006-06:00

Christmas is a time for angels—angels on my tree, angels on my cards, angels on my door wreath. But angels don’t only present themselves for the holidays. Even if we don’t acknowledge them, they exist all year round. Angels surround us and guide us and nurture us. How can I honor some of my “angels”—those wonderful individuals who have helped me navigate through the rough waters of this past year?

I hand-painted some angel ornaments to present my personal angels as “awards” for their love and assistance, but my poor excuse for art can never be enough to thank them for the help and understanding they’ve given me.

To Elaine (and Doris), my angels at Authorlink: Thanks for another year of work and wonderment reading all those fascinating manuscripts. Here's to a better year in 2009!

To Irfan and Alma, my angels of car repair: Thanks for helping me band-aid my 12 year-old car together for yet another year. Your friendly optimism and auto expertise have kept me on the road for a minimum of cash outlay. And Alma—your Bosnian coffee can’t be beat!

To Joyce and Jerry, my angels of understanding and moral support: You’ve allowed me to help you with your mission to teach English as a Second Language to the immigrant community for six years now. You rescued me from the hospital E.R. when I was without transportation, and given me rides to a job interview and to the airport. Your smiles and belief in me keep me going when I feel overwhelmed. A mere “thank you” can never cover all the wonderful feelings I have for you two!

To Diane, Brooke and John, my angels of vocal music: Thank you all for allowing me to sing with your respective Sweet Adelines’ chorus, Praise Band, and Festival Choir. Singing saves my sanity—I owe you, big time!

To Kathryn, my angel of DVD lending: Thanks for letting me borrow and watch your Babylon 5 episodes. I now know who G’Kar and Londo Mollari are now—and have enjoyed every minute of watching their story play out on the small screen. It’s always great to have a fellow sci-fi geek to chat about our favorite shows and movies with. You’re the best!

To Jenny and Mike, my angels of cell phones and socialization: Thanks for helping me keep connected with the world through your phone plan and through your social opportunities (and good eats). I’ve met some very interesting people at your parties… Call it “geek networking” but it’s always great to know you’re not alone in your interest in things of a science fiction nature. One of these days I’m going to see your names in print (Jenny) and on the silver screen (Mike—special effects guru) and say, “I knew them when!”

To Rob and Rona, my angels of computer repair and Thursday “Happy Hours”: Thanks for your technical expertise and patience when my old PC did the inevitable meltdown. And thanks for all the great get-togethers you’ve hosted at your place. Happy hour is truly a happy time on your patio!

To Zo and Mark, my angels of fun on the river: I enjoyed becoming a "lieutenant commander" on your float trip. May the good ship sail forever!

To Gwen and Ryu, my angels of artistic geekdom and great turkey and stuffing: Thanks for inviting me to your home last year for Thanksgiving dinner and for letting me jabber your ears off about things of a movie nature. Thanks for tips on looking for jobs in the area, too. I can’t wait to see your names someday on the Hollywood Walk of Fame!

To Linda, Sue, Sue, Barb and all my fellow writers at MoRWA and online: Thanks for the inspiration!

To Donna, my angel of tax preparation: Wow—I could have never figured it all out without you. You literally saved my bacon and saved me bacon, so I didn’t starve later. See you next April!

To Mom, my eternal angel and cheerleader: Enough said!

To Adrian, my angel of all time: Thanks for always being there for me. You’ve dried my tears and listened to my rants and ravings and still didn’t desert me. You put my feelings first and sacrificed so much to keep me on an even keel. You’re my bestest friend ever. I hope to be your bestest friend forever in an official sense one day soon, too. Love ya, my handsome man!

Do you have any “angels” you’d like to honor with a shout out this year? Leave their names and their stories in the comment section below. Everyone who leaves a comment this month will have their name thrown into the hat for an e-book prize drawing.

Merry Christmas to one and all, and especially to my dear angels.

P.S. Speaking of giving out awards, I received one myself recently—my writers’ guide THE CURSE OF THE MANUSCRIPT EATING SLUSHPILE MONSTER has been nominated for an EPPIE Award! The finalists will be announced in March. Read more about my funny, “how NOT to” book at Uncial Press: http://www.uncialpress.com/books/curseoft/curseoft.html and at my web site: http://www.cynthianna.com/slushpile.html

Vote Positive!

2008-11-02T13:06:00.005-06:00

I’ve rapidly grown tired of this presidential campaign season. My weariness of all things political includes local, state and regional campaigns as well. No matter what the major political party is nowadays, they all seem to have one thing in common: They universally resort to slinging mud at their opponents rather than show how they’d go about to positively change the outcome of our current situation. In other words, negativity is the big thing in campaign 2008.

If you don’t think I know what I’m talking about, you could be right. I’m not a pundit or a Ph.D. in poly-sci. But I’ve been conducting my own non-scientific survey since the first political flyer landed in my overcrowded mailbox a month or two back. I’ve kept them all, and I’ve carefully gone through them, dividing them into “positive” and “negative” advertisements. Guess which side enjoyed a landslide victory?

Yes, I know I’m weird. I like to write—enough said. But if even a non-politically astute person such as myself can discern from the mountain of political ads that things have taken a decidedly negative tone in 2008 (even compared to the negativity of past years), then something is amiss. It seems no one has a positive outlook on life, our country or our form of government in general. Every candidate only sees the black clouds, never the silver linings.

Other than throwing open a window and yelling, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore!” (that famous quote from the movie Network), I think the only thing I can do is to “vote positive”. I will vote only for candidates and issues that present their platform in a positive manner. If this means I’ll have to skip voting for a few offices, then so be it.

A blank ballot is a statement in and of itself, isn’t it?

Love, Fun and Fantasy in Loving Who!

2008-09-28T20:20:00.003-05:00

How many alien assassins tracking her down does one fangirl need? That question is answered in my lastest fantasy-romantic-comedy release... Enjoy an excerpt from it this month and leave a comment to be entered into my book drawing. Thanks!

And if you're in the neighborhood, I hope to see you at Archon 32. Don't forget to introduce yourself.

LOVING WHO
by Cynthianna
ISBN: 1-60180-075-4
http://www.mojocastle.com/celine/lovingwho.html

The man...the magic...the movie? Screwball romantic-comedy meets the world of Doctor Who fandom. Cici Connor's life will never be the same when she takes John Smith, a mysterious Brit, into her bed and her life begins to change... possibly for the better. After all, how many alien assassins tracking her does one girl need?

An Excerpt from Loving Who:

That's how it all began. A week later, 'John Smith' sat next to me on my slate-blue sofa with a bowl of microwave popcorn balanced on his lap. His eyes seemed glued to the TV screen as if it was the most wonderful invention to come to St. Louis since the introduction of microwaveable toasted ravioli.

“The crazy things that bloke gets up to,” he murmured as the credits began to roll on the third episode of the latest series. “Quite unbelievable at times.”

I laughed. “That's why it's called science fiction. It sure the heck isn't science fact.”

Suddenly those big brown eyes of his bore into mine. “You enjoy studying the sciences, don't you?”

I swallowed hard. How did he know? I nodded automatically. “Yeah, sure I do. I didn't get a chance to study any science in depth in college, but I've always had a layperson's fascination with all things astronomical.”

“Yes, I noticed your Amateur Astronomer certificate on the wall when we came in. It hangs beside the bookshelf containing an astrolabe, a year's worth of Sky and Telescope, and the hardback edition of Stephen Hawking's' A Complete History of Time.”

Whoa. This John Smith was much more observant that I had credited him. Here I thought for the last three hours he'd been simply enjoying my TiVoed episodes of Doctor Who. Instead, he'd been scoping out my apartment.

“You know what an astrolabe is?” I wondered aloud. Most of my friends had mistaken it for an unsually shaped, miniature telescope.

He frowned, puzzled. “Of course I know what an astrolabe is.”

A chill raced down my spine. Perhaps bringing this handsome stranger home hadn't been such a good idea after all…

“Is your fascination with the heavens why you've become such a fanatic over a television program about a time traveler?” he asked.

I blinked, but still I found myself glued to the spot. “Partly. Mostly it's pure escapism for me. I have to have something in life that will rescue me from this dreary existence occasionally. Doctor Who is a godsend.”

“Even when it went off the air for a decade?”

“Even then. There were the books, the conventions, the awful TV movie and the fans. The fans are the best. I've met a lot of lovely Doctor Who fans over the years. They've cheered me up enormously when I was down and out between jobs and husbands. When Southwestern Bell transferred me here from Dallas I didn't know a soul, but the local fans soon became my family. I'm not alone in the universe as long as I know there are others out there who like the same thing I do.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully. He seemed to be seriously contemplating my heartfelt disclosure. “Then why do you frequent dodgy establishments such as the place I found you in earlier today?”

I blushed and averted my gaze. It was time to spill the beans, to let him in on the underlying motivation for bringing him back to my place. I suddenly felt ashamed of my actions. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“Cici? Is there something you'd like to tell me?”

His voice sounded soft, yet demanding. He placed a hand under my chin and tilted my face until his penetrating eyes meet mine once more. My heart began to race and my breathing became ragged. His prying eyes continued to probe the depths of my soul. Every fiber of my being burned with a desire to make a clean start of our relationship.

“Okay, you caught me,” I confessed with a sigh. “We need you to star in our fan film. You're a dead ringer for the Doctor. My plan involved kidnapping and seducing you, forcing you to stay in town for a while so we could film our friend Sammy's screenplay. He's terminally ill. We want him to see his movie idea made before he passes on. That's all. I promise.

Loving Who… available at Mojocastle Press:
http://www.mojocastle.com/celine/lovingwho.html

Cynthianna
http://www.cynthianna.com
Boldly going where no one genre has gone before!

Back to School

2008-09-04T22:36:00.004-05:00

It’s been a while since I experienced my first day of school—as a student, that is. This past month I’ve gone back to school, but now I’m on the “other side of the desk”.

I’m working as teacher’s assistant with special needs children at a suburban elementary school.

I’m shadowing children through out the day in their classes. I’m their “personal assistant” you could say. I’m going back to school alongside them—but I don’t have to do the homework or take the tests. Whew! I’m glad. That’s the good side of it.

The bad side is that sometimes sitting through class can be tough on a special needs child. They need lots of positive reinforcement and encouragement. But sometimes, things overwhelm them. They act out. They yell or pinch or throw items or simply whine… They aren’t really different than other kids, but sometimes their communication skills are lacking, and it’s hard to voice their frustrations in a more effective manner.

How can I motivate them? How can I help them succeed without being tempted to do things for them? I’m new to the job so I’m still learning… right along with them.

It’s true what they say—you never stop learning. Ever. And even a special needs child can teach you a thing or two about the human yearning to be yourself no matter what the rest of the world thinks or says.

A favorite quote of mine is, “God made you the way you are in order to use you as He planned.” Thank heaven the world if full of many different people so we have no excuse to stop learning!

The Happy Hour

2008-08-01T09:43:00.006-05:00

The name brings to mind smokey bars and blue collar types getting off shift to down a pitcher of beer or materialistic yuppies mingling over tapas and martinis after a hard day’s work pushing papers. But the Happy Hour I’m referring to is far from these stereotypes. It’s in a class all its own.

This Happy Hour happens on the side patio of a friend’s home. It’s not at a dark, beer sign-bedecked, neon-lit corner pub or a posh, upscale restaurant. It’s relaxed and casual to the extreme. Better yet, bring the kids and your favorite snacks… Both allowed—and encouraged.

In fact, many of us don’t even drink, so we’re sipping water or soda pop while others toss back a beer or mixed beverage of their choice. But we’re not coming to Happy Hour for the drinks—we’re coming for the conversation and fellowship.

Happy Hour is a group of science fiction fans and other like-minded people who get together on a Thursday evening and sit around and chat endlessly on a variety of topics. Anything and everything goes.

There’s all those great SF summer movies we’ve seen (or not) worth discussing. There are fun activities coming up in the near future to get psyched up for like Archon 32, a float trip, or a possible ghost tour of old St. Charles. There are jokes to be told and great stories of past humorous situations to share. (I even learned you could use a tampon as a soft dart. You never know when that bit of info could come in handy!)

Happy Hour is all about being… well, happy. Enjoy a snack, enjoy a chat, have a beer or soda and relax. True happiness isn’t about trying to impress the work crowd or tie one on. True happiness is spending a few cheerful hours with your friends.

Tell me about a regular hang-out or activity you do with your friends just to unwind and to share a good time. Everyone who leaves a comment on any of my blogs this month gets their name tossed into a hat for free ebook drawing. So tell me what you think! And be sure to check out my latest SF/fantasy romantic-comedy offering LOVING WHO from Mojocastle Press. Links at my home page: http://www.cynthianna.com

Horse TV

2008-07-01T11:10:00.006-05:00

Everyone has their favorite thing to watch on TV when they feel like “vegging out” and unwinding from a tough day, week, month, or year. One of my favorite TV stops happens to be the late night programs on the Food Network. I seem to enjoy watching people compete to build the tallest cake shaped like a Dr. Seuss character or feed a crowd of a thousand in just seven hours with ramen noodles, ketchup packets and a couple of dull knives. But when I really, really want to unwind, I take a short walk north from my front door and watch Horse TV.

I know what you’re thinking—there’s no such thing as “Horse TV”. I beg to differ. If you stand still and look through a rectangular frame-device at horse for hours on end, you are watching Horse TV. It makes no difference if the frame-device is called a “fence” or a television screen. The end result is the same.

You enjoy crystal clear HD reception on Horse TV. Plus, you really get a three-dimension experience of smells and sounds and touch. I like to make those horsey “snickers and snorts” back and forth to the big guys and watch their reactions. (They tend to mosey on off further into the pasture and ignore me. “Stupid human trying to fool us that she can talk to us,” is what they’re thinking, I’m sure.) Some of the smells… Well, I could live without the horse manure scents, but the velvety softness of a glossy horse’s coat and petting a fuzzy muzzle more than makes up for that unpleasantness.

I’d better clarify what I really mean before my readers start calling the guys with the straight jackets. Grant’s Farm (http://www.grantsfarm.com/) lies adjacent to my neighborhood. It’s the home of the world famous Anheuser-Busch Clydesdale horses. Grant’s Trail, a converted railroad track, now a bike and pedestrian trail, is spittin’ distance from my computer. So whenever I need to take a break from the stress and the computer (one in the same recently when my hard drive melted down), I head on up the trail and watch the Clydesdales at play.

The farm is actually a deer park and tourist attraction, but it’s a very accessible one. The newborn foals there will let you pet them through the fence if you’re lucky. There are mother horses watching over their young, and big, strapping pulling horses out munching breakfast, lunch and dinner… In fact, their muzzles seem permanently glued to the ground. If they’re not pulling that beer wagon, they seem to be chomping away constantly. Hard work must create a huge hunger.

Their lives seem serene and complete for the most part to me. They are well fed and cared for—they are beautiful and majestic and don’t mind being put on display. For horses—or human beings for that matter—they seem the contentest of creatures on the face of the earth.

And that’s why I enjoy watching the horses whenever I need to unwind. I’m hoping some of that immense contentment will wash off on me.

What do you do to unwind after a particular tough time? Is it always the same thing or do you do different things? Do you watch Horse TV? Share one of your unwinding experiences or relaxation techniques here in the comments section, and I’ll put your name in the hat for my next monthly prize drawing.

Thanking you in advance… I’m off now to check out how clear the reception is today at the fence.

THE ABSOLUTELY TOTALLY FREE CAR WASH

2008-06-01T13:32:00.003-05:00

Sometimes things seem too good to be true. You want to believe they’re for real, but you’re not certain you can let yourself believe them. But when you do, you are truly blessed.

Saturday I helped out at the Jefferson Hills Church Free Car Wash. Yeah, it was free—totally free. And people found it hard to believe.

The questions flew, “Why are you doing a free car wash? Do you really want donations? Do you have another, ulterior motive?”

The answers I gave were, “We’re doing this as a gift to the community. No, we really don’t want donations. We have no ulterior motive other than letting you know that as Jesus washed feet, we’re washing cars, and we want you to know about our church.”

A lot of people acted impressed that any group would do anything for anyone for no money nowadays. The idea of “community” is a foreign concept for many. They live in their cars—they drive to work, to school, to any outside activities they might participate in and then they drive home and close and lock their doors.

They never get to know their neighbors. They never really get to know the community where they live. They bought their homes because of the zip code. Literally. Someone told them to buy property in such-and-such suburb because in three years’ time they could sell their house at a profit. And they do just that usually, moving on to the next desirable zip code where, most likely, they’ll never meet their new neighbors, either.

People in suburbia these days are used to paying through the nose for everything—gasoline for the SUV, dance lessons for the kids, fake nails applied weekly, drive-through dinners, etc.

So the absolutely, totally free car wash concept just didn’t make sense to these folks. Their organic onboard computer (i.e., brain) said, “Does not compute!”

But it does make more sense to me now why Jesus came about 2000 years ago, before cars and air conditioning and cable TV and the Internet. People had to walk or take a donkey cart to get anywhere 2000 years ago. They knew their neighbors a bit more since they seldom wandered far from home. And they depended on their neighbors’ help and generosity to get by more often than not.

People weren’t as isolated from their communities. They talked to each other in person rather than to a stranger over a cell phone. And in community they shared their common experiences and related how Jesus had impacted their lives for the better.

This recent car washing experience gives me a bit more insight into writing contemporary characters. The suburbanite of today has a disconnect with the community he or she resides in. It’s rare nowadays for neighbors to share their common experiences or to even tell each other about how Jesus has impacted their lives for the better. Suburbanites hold a cautiously cynical view of the world and can’t believe that others would do anything for them free with no strings attached.

But they certainly like getting their Humvees and SUVs washed.

My Exciting Ride in an Ambulance

2008-05-09T22:18:00.004-05:00

Here's the latest exciting thing to happen to me this week... I got to take a ride in the ambulance to the hospital emergency room!

About 8:30 AM or so, I was sitting at my computer sipping tea (just waking up really) and suddenly it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I was short of breath and figured that wasn't an entirely good sign... So I did the sensible thing (not wanting to be found rotting on my floor two weeks later) and called 9-1-1. And sure enough these nice looking young guys and a gal paramedic came over and took my blood pressure and connected me to the EKG thingy with the sticky bits/leads (which hurt like heck to pull off, let me tell you!). I guess they weren't too pleased with what they saw, because they stuck me in this chair to get me down the two flghts of stairs of my apartment building and then I got put onto a stretcher (in the rain!) and slipped into the back of the ambulance.

Now, is that ever a weird ride... You're on your back and your traveling backwards and they are sticking things into you the whole time. Ugh! I have a big bruise on my arm from the IV. Anyway, I got shunted off to the ER and got even more sticky bits attached to me. And I waited and waited about three and half hours and they take blood out of your other arm (ow!) and they take samples of other bits of you and they connect you up the "beeping machines". But I guess they figured I was okay, and so they let me go around 1 PM and told me to go see this doctor by Monday at the latest. So I made an appointment for Monday morning, being the good girl that I am. ;)

Now, here is the even more exciting part--I am wearing nothing but my nightgown and slippers! (Fortunately I'd grabbed my little bathrobe too going out the door.) I couldn't argue with the paramedics and get some clothes on first, as I was tied up to their EKG machine with leads and cables. So at 1 PM, the nurse says "You can go home." Well, I didn't drive myself there and I'm essentially undressed, so public transport (in the rain) would be a bit dicey, and they don't have any volunteers who can give you a ride home they said. But I did reach my dear friends Joyce and Jerry at home by phone, and they came over and picked me up, bless their hearts. They are truly lifesavers.

Better yet, I had a job interview about 25 miles north of here at 3 PM. I told Joyce I just wanted to get home and get in the shower and quickly get ready to go up and talk to this lady about the job at a women's drug rehab center. She and Jerry volunteered to drive me up there and back so I didn't have to stress out on the driving. (And I think I did okay on the interview, too.) They are double angel lifesavers in my book now!

So, that was my exciting day with the ambulance trip and being undressed and waiting for a ride in the ER waiting area, and then doing a job interview. Don't let anyone tell you that I'm not a trooper and I don't want to work.

And I’m fine really, just a bit tired now. I will be a good girl and go to the doctors Monday and let you know what they say.

Prayers and good healing thoughts and wishes welcomed!

UPDATE: I got my latest blood work back this week, and they say it looks "fine". I'm not vampire or a shapeshifter of any kind. The test results didn't say I wasn't an alien abductee or I didn't have a weird sense of humor, however. My blood pressure still remains high, unfortunately, and it makes me feel fatigued and winded.

I had an echocardiogram and it went swimmingly. In fact, I think the human heartbeat sounds surprisingly a lot like the roar of the ocean in places. Would that make me akin to a beached whale, I wonder? Anyway, they slop cold gel all over your chest and then press the sonogram wand into your sternum and then into your left side of your rib cage very hard, over and over again, to record the activity in there. And that hurts!! My poor left side still felt bruised the next day.

But there is a heart in there, I can tell. (Yep, no sign saying, "This space for rent." Fooled you!) It's sort of black and white grainy with the occasional red and blue energy pulses on the screen. I have no idea what's up with it, and the nice lady who jammed that wand hard into my side didn't tell me anything. If there's anything incredibly exciting happening with it, I'll let you know. Otherwise, assume that it's an okay heart for an alien abductee with a weird sense of humor.

I Love My H R Block Tax Preparer

2008-04-09T12:51:00.005-05:00

Yes, I’m a broken record lately. I’ve listed the names of two big corporations two times in a row in my blog titles. (See last month’s tirade against Charter Communications Interenet Service.) I can’t help it this month—I have to say this: I love my H & R Block tax preparer!

No, no, it’s not a romantic attachment at all. It’s a professional arrangement, but she’s my friend as well and she understands what a tough financial bind I find myself in lately. She went the extra mile to help me get all the business deductions I could legally take this year and helped me get my personal tax forms in order. The end result? I don’t owe the government anything! Yippee!

This is a big deal for me, since I had been forced into submitting my tax forms as “married filing separate” because of my ongoing divorce difficulties. Without dependents and a head of household deduction, you can pay a lot (that is, GINORMOUS) amounts of taxes. And when you’re forced to itemized your deductions (since the other spouse had done so already without bothering to ask if this would be convenient for you) rather than take the standard deduction, you really do find yourself scrambling to come up with enough deductions to help lower your tax burden.

But with my tax preparer Donna’s help, we did it. Just in time, too. There’s a deadline of April 15 in the US to file these sorts of things, right?

My “bacon has been saved” as some would put it, and don’t I know it. I’m breathing a little easier at nights knowing that the taxman won’t be coming after me in a black hood, chain mail vest, combat boots, a vicious sneer plastered on his ghastly visage, carrying an ax to chop off my head… Yes, it is a silly nightmare, but most Americans possess an instinctive fear of the Internal Revenue Service. It’s in our genes somewhere next to the uncontrollable urge to yell, “Play ball!” after hearing the national anthem.

(Sorry about that IRS. I’m sure you are all very nice folks, like Will Ferrell is in Stranger than Fiction. Good move on your part to cast likeable guy like Will in that role, too.)

Has there ever been a time in your life when you felt desperate like I did this past month? Like nothing or no one could help you? Did you find out that someone could actually help you out of this hopeless situation? How did you find yourself after the experience—older, wiser, less stressed, committed to an insane asylum?

Leave me a comment below describing your experience, and I’ll choose a name from the comment-makers for a freebie e-book prize. So, talk to me—what have you got to lose? (You might just have something to gain. It won’t be extra taxes, either.)

THE TOP TEN THINGS I HATE ABOUT CHARTER HIGH-SPEED INTERNET SERVICE

2008-03-18T11:25:00.008-05:00

The Top Ten Things I hate about Charter High-Speed Internet Service:

10.) Having to keep a diary of all the times I’ve had to call Charter Customer Service and be put on hold in the last two and half weeks. For example:

February 29—first call made for service outage.
March 2—two technicians replace cable line from building to the box on the street edge and leave it lying exposed on the grass. Next day we get 8 inches of snow.
March 5—another technician comes to fix outage and says its my modem which is a problem—I replace it with new one.
March 13—two technicians come back to “bury” the exposed cable in the grass—internet goes off for good and they disappear without a word to either me or my neighbor whose digital cable TV has vanished as well. I call and speak to “Irene” at customer service that evening and stay on phone for approximately 45 minutes. She promises things will be taken care of within 24 hours. (It’s not.)
March 16 –tech call that afternoon, the internet goes off and stays off within two minutes after technician leaves after adjusting my modem/the cable box on building.
March 17 – on in the morning, Internet goes off at approx. 1:30 pm and comes back on three separate times by unplugging/re-plugging in the modem until goes off for good at 2:45 pm. Another call to customer service where “Victoria” promises me technicans will call me within the hour (this said at 3:15 pm). No calls received within the hour—or the day. Or even the next morning... Why am I not surprised?

9.) Having to push “0” over and over at every automated switchboard prompt until I get a real live human being. (Keypad on phone now worn thin.)

8.) Having to repeat my sob story over and over again to these helpless Charter customer service reps who do not live in my city, state—or possibly country.

7.) Having to pay for Charter High-Speed Internet Service in the first place because AT&T hasn’t set up the lines so we can get DSL Internet service in this neck of the woods.

6.) Having to pay my cell phone company for the minutes that I went over my plan this month because I was put on hold so many times calling Charter High-Speed Internet Customer Service.

5.) Being promised a rebate on an $89.99 modem I got in August when I signed on with Charter High-Speed Internet —the modem that at least one technician told me was “broken” and I needed to rent one from Charter at an additional fee per month. The modem rebate (promised within 6 to 8 weeks) has yet to arrive. All emails sent to the email address for questions about rebate not answered, either. Charter Customer Service reps say they “know nothing about the rebate program” yet Charter’s icon is plastered on the web site and they provide the modem. If they contracted this incentive program from an outside source, they are responsible for it ultimately—right? Why else would you advertise it and put your company logo on it?

4.) Not being able to send doc files to my telecommuting positions as expected—missing out on potential income and creating ill-will with potential customers because I’m not able to respond to their email requests in a timely manner.

3.) Missing out on promotional activities online because I cannot get online and stay online. Not being able to update my web sites in a timely fashion. All lead to lost sales and advertising opportunities for my books.

2.) Having to buy gasoline at over $3.09 a gallon to drive to other places to use public Internet—and then finding they have a “nanny blocker” on some of these public WiFI access points so I can’t even access my own publisher’s web site!

And the number one reason why I hate Charter Communications High-Speed Internet Service…

1.) Those damn flashing green lights on the modem when it’s kicked me offline for the upteenth time in the last five minutes!

If you have a similar tale of woe (related to Internet service problems or not) please feel free to share it in the comment section. After I've calmed down somewhat, I might do a drawing for a little prize of one of my backlist books or something. Thanks for your understanding. I think I will take a Valium and go lie down now before I'm tempted to buy a shot gun...

UPDATE: I thought that the "pen was mightier than the monopolistic cable company" but I was wrong. Here's the continuing saga of wonky Internet connectivity:

March 19—Internet service works fine the day before, then goes off and on again all afternoon on the 19th but eventually stays on until my bedtime.
March 20—Internet service goes off within approx. 10 minutes of turning on computer.
Online 8:25 AM
Offline 8:36 AM
On again 9:37 AM
Off again 9:45 AM
On again 10:00 AM
Off again 10:15 AM
On again 10:26 AM
Off again 10:30 AM
Online again 11:04 AM
Off again 11:09 AM
On again 11:20 AM

I will continue to keep this blog updated until I have this problem addressed to my satisfaction, I find out where the president of Charter lives so I can throw a rock through his bedroom window, or I have hypertensive episode and wind up in the hospital intensive care. Your prayers and comments (below) are welcomed.

Updated Update:

I thought all my problems had been solved after the latest tech call on March 22, but alas no. I've suffered "mini-outages" several days now. Nothing major, but obviously the problem hasn't been fixed permanently. I do now get more "personal attention" when I contact Charter... Perhaps all those red flags on my file saying, "Mad, whiny woman who threatens lawsuits--handle with care!" is helping?

When will this all end? Sigh!

April's Fools Update:

Things have been going fairly well this past week, although I did get a e-bill for TWICE the normal rate from Charter. (I promptly ignored it. They can send me a paper bill and then we'll discuss what I owe them.) And then I start noticing the "mini-outages" again and today--it wasn't a funny April Fool's joke to be kicked offline for fifteen minutes in mid-day.

You can be sure I'll let them know my sense of humor has been stretched a bit thin...

But your comments are still welcomed and appreciated.

Successful Failures

2008-03-01T11:07:00.006-06:00

The following article really caught my attention:

http://www.forewordmagazine.com/blogs/insider/PermaLink,guid,72a47852-5a5c-41d6-a025-c23c93bd96a3.aspx

Staggering Statistics in Book Publishing can Read Like a Stephen King Horror Novel. Is There Any Hope for Authors and Publishers?

Warning: May Cause Nightmares

Book industry numbers are cold-sweat terrifying for publishers and authors alike. According to Nielsen Bookscan, 3,000 books are published per day in the United States alone… Publishers report an average of 2,100 submissions per year, totaling 132 million submissions. Just under one percent are accepted for publication.

In the face of these staggering odds, is there any hope for authors and publishers?

The Majority of Books Sell Fewer than 99 Copies

Of the 1.2 million titles tracked by Bookscan in 2006, only 2.1% sold more than 5,000 books, 16.6% sold fewer than 1,000, and a terrifying 79.6% sold fewer than 99 copies…

I agree with the author here—these statistics are terrifying for writers. But this piece didn’t leave me feeling pessimistic as much as optimistic. I have been lucky to join that elite club of the “one percent” by having a book accepted for publication, and I have sold more books than 80% of my fellow authors apparently.

I might have misread those numbers, but at least I don’t feel so bad now that I’ve not made the New York Times bestseller list yet. Hey, just selling 100 copies of one of your titles means you’re a success. Not rich, not famous, but you are definitely a success in the publishing field. Those stats don’t lie—you are in the top of your class.

So how come is it so hard to convince everyone outside the writing and publishing field that you’re a success?

My guess is that it’s because the rest of the world operates on the idea of the “bottom line”. You make a million dollars—you’re a success. You pen a million words and sell more than 100 copies—you’re a crackpot eccentric who doesn’t have anything better to do with your time. There seems to be no winning for losing. The “real world” will continue to insist that writing is not a “real job” unless you write for something like a newspaper or magazine. Then you might aspire to the lofty title of “hack”. Wow.

“No respect, no respect…” I can hear Rodney Dangerfield now. Writers get no respect.

The recent screenwriters strike gives evidence of this fact. Fans complained when some of their favorite TV shows ended abruptly this past fall. Viewers tended to blamed the writers over the producers and agencies that cheated the writers of royalties for the disruption in the television schedule.

If only the writers would write for free—heck, they don’t need to eat or pay electric bills, right? Give us our entertainment… then go out and get a real job like ditch digging, writer-person.

Until writers can use their words to convince the rest of the world that “success” means more than dollar signs and seeing your name plastered across the tabloids in the supermarket check out line, we’ll have to learn to embrace our “failure” successfully.

Do you have a “success story”—a time where you felt you had succeeded even if others felt you had failed? How did you handle it? Share your tale of encouragement below, and I’ll toss your name in the hat for a drawing of one of my back titles. Thanks for sharing!

February Impressions

2008-01-30T17:54:00.000-06:00

What does a writer write about when she’s not feeling particularly inspired to write about anything at all?

Well… uh, nothing. She doesn’t write much of anything. And then she gets the idea that it’s time to change the name of her monthly column from Every Day Is Mother’s Day to Confessions of a Blonde Writer. After that, she draws yet another blank and she reaches for her calendar to see what is going on in the next month.

For a cold, short month, February is certainly loaded with holidays—Groundhog’s Day, President’s Day, Lincoln’s Birthday, Washington’s Birthday, Valentine’s Day, Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday, Chinese New Years (Happy Year of the Rat!) Leap Years Day, Black History Month… Why should such a short month have more special days than say August? August really doesn’t have any internationally known holidays, does it? Why is pipsqueak little arctic-like February hogging them all? Cough one up!

There seem to be no reasons for these sorts of things—like there are no reasons why poor February winds up with only 28 days most years and 29 this year just for the heck of it. Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s a perfectly legitimate excuse for why we add an extra day to February every four years—something about the earth’s rotation around the sun and the year not being quite 365 days. Sure, but why do we have to have 365 days in a year anyway? Why not 182 and ½? There’s no law saying the year has to be certain length is there?

Thirty days hath September,
April, June and November.
All the rest have thirty-one.
Except for Leap Year—that’s the time
When February’s days turn twenty-nine.

These things race through a blonde writer’s head when she’s under a deadline, and she can’t think of anything in particular to write for her monthly column. Sure, she could revert back to the funny bits about Valentine prezzies that didn’t quite say “romance” and the dangers of gorging on chocolate, but those topics have all been done to death. There’s got to be something original to say about February, right?

What about not concentrating on the shortness of the month or the multitude of the holidays or the silly heart-shaped boxes of candy and dozens of roses? Let’s just look at the month itself: In the northern hemisphere, it’s mid-winter, usually the coldest time of the year. Kids really don’t get a vacation from school for any of these holidays, but they occasionally get snow days off. And if you’re lucky enough to be born on Leap Day… Well, you only celebrate a birthday every four years.

Now that I’m middle-aged that actually sounds pretty good to me. Every four years you have a legitimate excuse to party hard—you might even received four times the average number of gifts, too?

March brings spring, and in its own peculiar way February brings hope. Hope that it’s only a short time left in the harshness of winter before the warmth and promise of spring arrives. Perhaps that’s its biggest contribution to the calendar after all. Short and sweet as those heart-shaped Valentine message candies, February is about hope, hope that all these holidays will sweep us happily and healthily into the rest of the year. (Editor’s note: Chocolate has been declared a health food, by the way. It’s one of the major food groups now… It ranks up there right under ice cream above fruits and veggies. Honest.)

And, now that the Blonde Writer has made it through the first column of her newly renamed blog site, she feels somewhat more inspired. She might get through those book edits in her inbox after all… in a few weeks’ time. The muse, once lulled asleep by stress and constant life change in the last year, takes a bit of rousing to get back on track. But hopefully come the shortest month next year, she’ll have found her writing rhythm once more, and, as they say in the fairy tales, “She lives happily ever after."

When I Grow Up...

2008-01-01T22:11:00.000-06:00

Editor's Note: This blast from the past somehow seems appropriate as we start a new year, and I start a new life as a single person.

"When I grow up, I want to be a lawyer, a veterinarian, a singer and a mommy," my seven year old proudly announced one morning at breakfast.

"A lawyer?" I said, puzzled at such an out-of-the-blue notion at seven-thirty in the morning. I am one of those few parents who actually discourages their children from becoming a part of that jaded profession. "That's a new one, Baby. But won't it clash with your future "Spice Girl" image? And what about vet school? It takes a few years to be an animal doctor. I'm not sure you'd want to go to law school on top of that."

"Yeah, but lawyers make lots of money. I'll need lots of money to be all the things I want to be when I grow up," she replied with a big smile.

Good point. Who says a seven year old's logic isn't as persuasive as an adult's? But a lawyer for pity sakes? How did she ever come up with that idea? The nightly news? Nah, it couldn't be . . . She only watches PBS, Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel--is it their fault?

My almost twelve year old has never given me this kind of worry before. From age four on she has said she wanted to grow up to be pretty much the same thing: "A dinosaur person". At first, I thought she meant she wanted to dress up like a dinosaur--as this was around the time Barney premiered on TV--but she made it clear from early on that wasn't the case.

"I want to dig up dinosaur bones and look at them, Mom," she informed me at age five, using perfect pronunciation and complete sentences as was her wont. "I can work in a big museum."

"Oh, I see," I replied, trying desperately to remember what you called a person who dug up dinosaur bones for study. "You want to be a scientist. That's great. When I was a little, girls weren't encouraged to pursue an interest in the sciences. I'm proud of you."

"Paleontologist" was the word for dinosaur person we soon discovered. Amanda isn't much of a speller, but there's one word she can spell: paleontology. Her bookshelves are lined with books on the science of digging up bones and putting them back together--simple picture books from Pre-K on up to fully illustrated reference manuals filled with lots of funny Latin terms. Recently, she has expressed an interest in astronomy as well. Her math and science grades reflect her enthusiasm on those topics.

"My daughter the scientist." Doesn't that have a nice ring to it?

But my daughter the lawyer? I don't know. Aimee is a compassionate child--very sensitive to the feelings and needs of others. While her sister talks about spending most of her young adult life in school receiving advanced degrees without the distraction of a boyfriend or spouse, Aimee has always advocated the philosophy of being a "homebody". She even has names picked out for my grandbabies already. (And yes, she has said she would be married first before having children--whew! That's a relief.)

Aimee genuinely loves animals and enjoys taking care of them, too. While I would love to say, "Let me introduce you to my daughter the DVM," I guess I would be supportive of her career path no matter which one she winds up taking. There's no rush about choosing college programs yet, however. She's only seven years old.

What did you want to be when you were seven--a firefighter, a race car driver, a police officer, a doctor, a nurse? How many people can honestly say they became the professional star athlete they wanted to become in grade school? And if we all became the fire fighters or doctors we hoped to be, there wouldn't be enough fire stations to house us all and all disease would have been wiped off the face of the planet by now. Seven year olds are entitled to change their minds.

A deja vu experience happened to me this past week. It got me thinking along these lines of, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I was being interviewed over the phone for an article on being a cyber columnist by an AP wire service reporter from Dallas, and I was asked what I considered myself to be--a "stay at home mom" or a "writer". This is a stumper of a question to me. However, as anyone who's ever met me will attest, I would rather die before letting on that I am at a lost for words. So, I babbled on as usual and told her that I considered myself a mom who stays at home who happens to be a freelance writer as well.

It was an odd feeling admitting to a total stranger why I considered myself to be anything other than the mother of two girls and just me essentially. When I was seven, I'm sure the only thing I wanted to be when I grew up was a mother like my mother. Sure, even back then there were some inklings that I might become a writer. When I was about five years old, my mother took dictation from me on a self-illustrated story about talking vegetables and salt and pepper shakers which came to life every night and partied on the dining room table after the family went to sleep. In seventh grade, much to my surprise, I won a statewide poetry contest. And, miracle of all miracles, I took an advance placement test in the twelfth grade and was given eight hours of English credit, essentially exempting myself from taking any further composition courses in college. ("You can write a complete sentence, stick it in a paragraph and string several paragraphs together in a coherent fashion," I was told bluntly. It seems this was a rare ability for graduating seniors of my generation.)

Still, I had only vague notions of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I knew I didn't want to go into any field dealing with mathematics or blood and guts. (The irony is, of course, returning to college in recent years, I was obligated to take both Statistics and Anatomy and Physiology to obtain my psychology degree. Never say never.) When forced to pick a college major at age eighteen, I chose a field void of numbers or specimens--film studies. Two years later, I happily received my "Mrs." degree and dropped out of school. A lot of people were disappointed, but I always felt creative people needed to "live" life--not just sit in classrooms discussing how Fellini's films demonstrated Italian society's need to re-establish a unique identity in the post-war world. (Which they did.)

While it appears that my daughters possess firm goals of what they want to be when they grow up, I openly admit that I haven't. I'll let you know what I decide to be in a few years. I may be all "grown up" by then, but--knowing me--I wouldn't count on it.

Copyright © 1998 by Cindy Appel, all rights reserved.

A TIGHT SQUEEZE GETTING INTO THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT

2007-12-02T14:15:00.001-06:00

Wasn't it Labor Day just last week? Maybe not, but it sure feels that way. I could have sworn it was Christmas back in July when the department stores started displaying their holiday decorations in the ninety degree heat, but I guess not. Lo and behold! The season of blinking lights, mall Santas and toy commercials ad nauseum has jumped me from behind with all the grace and skill of a NFL tackle squashing a quarterback desperately clutching the game ball. The holidays may be here, but for some reason my brain and heart are still someplace over there.

The only thing to do is to make myself get into the spirit of the upcoming festivities. One simple (and usually effective) method is to start singing holiday songs. Once those old familiar tunes get ingrained into your head you'll be humming them in your sleep, and--ta da! Instant Yuletide bliss. I began singing Christmas melodies early because I'm an official member of a Sweet Adelines chorus--and we practice for weeks in order to carol at a number of venues. You'd think singing "Go Tell It On the Mountain" in late September would help a gal get into the Christmas mood, wouldn't you? Somehow it doesn't.

In fact, since I've been working so hard to memorize each song's lyrics letter perfect and its tunes note perfect, I'm "burnt out" on singing altogether. Don't get me wrong--I still love to sing, it's just that I'm concentrating so hard on doing it right that I forget what I'm really singing about. This is a danger for all performers, and it's particularly tricky for singers. You choreograph the movements, the gestures, the facial expression, the tone of voice, but somehow you fail to choreograph your heart into the musical piece at the same time. And what with all those other doings your poor brain is trying to keep up with, is there really a place to squeeze your heart in as well?

These days I find myself lacking the stamina for even a pathetic a "ho, ho, ho!" since I'm constantly chanting a frantic, "oh, oh, oh!" whenever the next big crisis comes my way. Of course, I freely choose to fret and worry over things, thereby denying myself the energy to get into the holiday spirit properly. Something has got to be done about this pathetic state of affairs--and done now before it's too late.

Okay, from here on out I declare it officially "Christmas in my heart." No more need to fret and fear about what's going to happen tomorrow or the next day--today it's Christmas, and it's a holiday and that's that. No work on holidays, no worrying on holidays, just good cheer and goodwill to all men and all other genders and age groups as well. How will I keep this promise? How do lawyers get us to do anything? By writing a contract, of course! I'll post mine below so you can print it and sign one for yourself in case you're in need of some "Holiday Spirit," too. Just don't sue me in case you fail to live up to your terms of the agreement.

Think about it: If you can squeeze your signature onto a dotted line and your backside into those dress pants you bought last year, then you certainly can squeeze yourself into the joy of the season, can't you?

Happy Holidays, y'all!

THE OFFICIAL HOLIDAY SPIRIT CONTRACT

(Offer void in Vegas, Hollyweird, Nuh Yawk, Utah, Hawaii, New Brunswick, Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands, Antarctica, East Hoboken, west of the Pecos and north of the Missouri, and for people who live in glass houses.)

I, (fill your name here) , being of wacky mind and gorgeous body, do hereby declare myself to be in THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT on this day, (put today's date here) , 2007. This feeling of Yuletide festivity and frolicking will last from now until January 1, 2008 or until I wake up from my New Year's Eve hangover, whichever comes last providing I wake up eventually.

Sign in front of witnesses (of a dubious mental state as well) and attested to by an easily bribed Notary Public.

X (your name goes here as well)
(Notary's seal)

(Right thumb print)

(Smooshed Mistletoe Berry Stain)

(Bright Red Lipstick Print)

(Notary Public's champagne glass ring)

(Motel Room Number and Notary Public's phone number)

Come Ye Thankful People Come...

2007-11-03T23:15:00.000-05:00

This is an open invitation. Y'all are invited to my cyber-establishment for Thanksgiving cyber-dinner. We're going to have cyber-turkey (both cyber-white and cyber-dark meat) and cyber-mashed potatoes (fresh--not out of a cyber-packet) and, of course, the traditional cyber-pumpkin pie. Yum, yum! The best thing about a cyber-banquet is the that cyber-calories do not go to your hips, midriff or thighs--in fact, they go nowhere at all. So feel free to pig out at my cyber-party. You can never feel guilty--even when taking that last slice of cyber-pie since your cyber-hostess can easily click on "edit" and hit "copy" at any time...

Well, by now I'm sure you've guess I'm being plain silly here. What else is new? You haven't taken my dinner offer seriously I suspect, but I am serious--Why not throw a cyber-Thanksgiving celebration?

All right let's start with who's bringing what... How about you in the Fort Worth/Dallas Metroplex bring the potatoes and the rolls, you guys up in the northern section of the country can bring the stuffing--make it cornbread for me if you can, but if you can't, we'll ask our neighbors from Dixie to do the honors. I figured my Southern guests could bring the sweet potato pie and that my Western guests could bring some rattlesnake meat for a little variety. Cranberries? Oh, sure--some of my Massachusetts readers can provides those--right, guys? Pumpkin pie... who's going to bring that? How about we give that particular honor to the Midwesterners. The St. Louisans can bring toasted raviolis and Ted Drewes' frozen custard so others can sample some of the regional cuisine.

The best thing about a cyber-celebration is that there's simply no need for advance preparation. Can you tell that my home isn't completely spotless online? Of course not! Can you tell I'm passing out cheap paper plates and not the good china? Not really! Can I tell that you just spilled your iced tea and cranberry sauce onto the light beige carpeting? No way! Entertainment? Heck, the Internet is entertainment enough already, so who needs charades and sing-alongs? You don't even have to worry about us pulling out our family photo albums and boring you for hours with our girls' baby pictures. It's a totally stress-free party. I don't even have to worry about kicking you out before midnight--I'll simply "switch off" and let you wander the worldwide web by yourselves...

Stop and think here a minute about how fortunate we are even to be considering throwing a party, cyber or otherwise. Think about how many individuals are eating a warmed-over turkey dinner courtesy of their local Salvation Army or other non-profit organization. We worry about getting our holiday shopping done--others worry about having a roof over their heads come winter. We worry over whether or not to buy a bigger, faster hard drive for our computer--others worry whether or not they should eat or pay on their mounting medical bills. We citizens of cyberspace have a great deal to be thankful for.

Let's be honest: As Americans, the idea of giving thanks to our Heavenly Father for the blessings He has bestowed upon us this past year is usually the last thing on our "to-do list." Whenever we hear the phrase "Happy Thanksgiving" we drool thinking about the succulent turkey and spicy dressing we're about to consume. We crave the sheer joy of being able to sleep in on a weekday. We make big plans to head out to the mall to walk off those extra pounds we gained in our gluttony and start our Christmas shopping in earnest. Prayer and thankfulness are the furthermost things from our minds the last weekend in November.

The modern manifestation of the holiday really wasn't what George Washington had in mind when he declared the first official Thanksgiving Day celebration in 1789. Neither was it for the Pilgrims. William Bradford and the survivors of the Plymouth Colony were just plain grateful to be standing after a harsh first year which killed half of them off. I doubt there were any slugs snoozing late at that original Thanksgiving celebration. Our ancestors may have not known what a "Butterball" was in the 17th or 18th century, but one thing they did know: They knew whom to thank for the blessings of liberty, home and family.

Don't let the glitter and gloss of the Brave New CyberWorld and the new millennium blind you to whom your prayers should be directed to on this national day of giving thanks. God isn't "virtual reality"--He's the real thing. And you don't need a modem to "chat" with Him, either.

Pirates!!!

2007-10-01T15:55:00.000-05:00

This past month featured both "Talk like a Pirate Day" and the second annual St. Louis area "Pirate Fest". Here are a few of the more colorful scallawags I encountered...

You can see more pirate pics at my web site http://www.cynthianna.com/momsday_index.html

Happy Halloween!!