Psssst, Want A Peek?

If you know me, you know I'm a fan and follower of #NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). I've written most of my novels during November, adhering to the sometimes arduous practice of at least 1,667 words a day. I give presentations and hand out worksheets to help people in the quest to write their novel.

This November is no different. Although I have drafts I should be revising & polishing to send out on submission, I'm dedicating this November to keeping a promise; Sirenz 3, A New Trend. Fans of Meg and Sharisse, or maybe more of luscious Hades, asked for a third novel.

This one will be different; as I am writing this solo, the character of Meg is lost in backstory and only Hades, Sharisse, and those nosy, interfering Greek gods will entertain you. To whet your appetite, here's a snippet: (I posted a short story about Hades and Sharisse last year, which unfortunately, Blogger doesn't keep open access to. Luckily, I have copies....) This novel is based on that story. Remember, this is only the first draft...

            Two good looking guys, heavy gold chains around their necks, caps on sideways, and wearing sneakers more expensive than mine, slowly approached, palms up like they didn’t want to frighten me.

            “Hola, senorita!. What a fine-looking dog!” They kept a respectful distance which was very smart of them. They must be dog savvy- never approach a strange dog too fast. I didn’t feel afraid because I had Cerberus. Even in his diminished form, he was still intimidating.

            “Hello.” I stopped and Cerb sat next to me, his eyes watchful. He leaned against my leg.

            “Cerberus, stop leaning on me, you’re too heavy!” I didn’t even have to nudge him, he sat up, all the while keeping his focused attention on the two men.

            “It’s like he understands you,” said one with several gold teeth.

            I nodded. “Oh, he does. I can give him any command and he’ll do it,” I boasted.

            They both raised their eyebrows, like they doubted me.

            Oh ye of little faith....

            “Cerberus, go up to the man with the gold teeth and let him shake your paw.”

            Cerberus trotted over exactly as I commanded and held up his paw. The guy leaned down, gently shook it, and whispered, “Oh, Dios, I would love a dog like this!” The two looked at each other and grinned.

            The other one asked, “How much do you want for him?” He pulled out a wad of bills- all hundreds as far as I could see, and unfolded them. “Name your price.”

            I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but he’s not mine, and he wouldn’t go with you anyway. He’s very particular about people.”

            Gold teeth said, “But look, he likes me!”

            Cerb returned to my side.

            “That’s only because I told him to be a good boy and not eat anyone.” It was time to move on. Cerb still hadn’t peed.

Just a taste. After #NaNoWriMo is over, I will let one devoted fan read the story before it gets published and they can offer suggestions and criticisms. 

So, back to writing I go. You know Greek gods are not known for their patience with humans and Hades is demanding I hurry it up, the next chapter is his.

Wish me luck, stay tuned, and here's a pic of Hades to make you feel warm all over....  ;)

Hades, Lord of the Underworld...

Now back to the story!

Char

On the Flip Side-

It's been a tough week. In my church, we lost a long time member and friend. Another church friend lost her sister. Yet another's father was seriously sick. And then I landed in the hospital. A long scary story later, I'm getting better, but my stepdad is having knee replacement surgery and I'll be giving emotional and driving support to my mom. I'm stretched a little thin so this is my blog post for two weeks, unless I find time, energy, and motivation to post sooner.

Be good to yourself  because you mean a lot to others. And you deserve to be taken care of.

Photo by Ian Turnell from Pexels

See ya soon-

Char 

Schooling Hades...

            The chartreuse shirt sailed across the room, landing near the To Be Donated pile. I was so done with it. Just a few more shirts and I was done sorting and packing for college.

            College! In a few hours I’d be on my way to Chapel Hill and the University of North Carolina. I’d given up fashion marketing and opted for Psychology- Abnormal Psychology. Meg chose to stay in the city and go to the New York Film Academy. Me, I needed space – and distance – from all the memories. For the past two years I’d done nothing but trip over the Greek gods and drowned in their drama.

            I thought wistfully about Caz- Castor. As a demi god, there was always some distant relative in the pantheon that had a grudge and was looking to put him under some kind of curse. He’d said goodbye and that he’d see me in what amounted to a century in human years. That was so not going to work for me. Sighing, I resumed my packing. It was probably best to leave all things Greek here.

            “Where’s my ski jacket?” I muttered.

            And there I was, wearing the latest slope must haves, lounging in an overstuffed chair near a cozy fire. Golden, gem encrusted cup in my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone else’s manicured, long fingered, strong hand.

            I knew without looking it was him.

            Delaying the inevitable confrontation, I sipped the drink; mmmm, chocolate mint, of course my fave, and without even glancing over I said, “Are you allowed to be here? Isn’t Persephone waiting for you in a boudoir or something, wearing black leather, and ready to fight?”

            “Cherie.” His fingers pulled my free hand to his lips where he rubbed his teeth against my knuckles.

            I tugged, but he refused to let go.

            “You know that when she’s in another realm, I can be here. I thought we might have some winter fun, since I’m usually in Tartarus during your winter. I miss all the best skiing.”

            I rolled my eyes and couldn’t stop from looking at him. He smirked and with that slightly crooked smile that had been known to conquer all female resistance—except mine and Meg’s, I snorted.

            “You have to power to make perfect ski conditions anywhere, even Hawaii if you wanted,” I retorted, “so just return me back to my room. I have to finish packing for school.”

            He pouted a bit, then frowned. “I don’t understand why you bother with the whole” and he waved his hand tiredly, “school thing. I can give you all the knowledge in the world.” He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, I. KNEW. EVERYTHING.

            I could solve global warming. Ok, that was cool, Meg would be thrilled. It's one of the things she worries about.

            Finally I knew how to fix my computer glitches. Wow, that was handy. No more desperate calls to every geek I know at 2 a.m.

            I could tell Stephen Hawking where he was wrong. I would be a media darling.

            Euclidean Geometry actually hurt my brain. And when would I ever use that?

            All that knowledge was too much for my mortal brain stem. “It hurts!” I grabbed my head and moaned. A migraine would have given me relief.

            He snapped again and the knowledge was gone. Relief! He leaned forward, peering at me, his sparkling green eyes gazing deeply into mine, a stray auburn lock falling into his eyes making him look way too irresistible. “I can kiss it and make it better,” he breathed.

            Evil dude- most certainly, but holy Helen-of-Troy he was hot.

            That’s how he gets his victims, he charms and seduces them. Have some backbone! Meg’s not here to pull your butt out of the Greek fire!

            Taking a slow, deep breath and clasping my hands together, I replied, “No, I’m good, but you can give me a genealogy chart so I can keep your family straight. That would help a lot when one pops up and I don’t know whether to beg for mercy or offer them a cookie. Or, you could just tell me where I’ll be working in six years when I’m done with school so I can plan my wardrobe accordingly.”

            He huffed and stood up, stretching all glorious 6’4” of him. “Don’t worry about the family, they have more interesting things to do than keep track of your whereabouts.”

            Ouch! Forgotten already! I didn't remind him that it never stopped Persephone and Demeter and a few others from sticking their immortal noses into my earthly business.

            He leaned against the mantle. “And I can’t tell you the future. The three fates get rather pissy and change everything just to prove how powerful they are, and for messing up their ‘vision.’ A daisy gets stepped on and poof! All life could be wiped out by a meteor. They’re bitchy enough to wait until a new humanity rises out of the slime.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his toned abs and pecs lovingly gloved in his Under Armor.

            It’s enough to make a girl’s mouth water- unless she knows him for the scheming, lying snake he is.

            “So what’s the big deal with the whole college thing? I can give you whatever knowledge you need.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or teach you myself... There are many delights...”

            Regretfully, I put down the hot chocolate and stood so I could look him almost in the eye.

            “Hades, some things have to be experienced. Everything I’ve read about you doesn’t come close to what you’re like in the flesh. At college I get to meet people from so many different places, different cultures. I get to be on my own, and try to balance school and responsibilities and time. I can't get that staying comfy at home.”

            “You did all that last year and the previous one,” he huffed, “when you had your scholarship to that alternative high school, worked for me, and still managed to ace your classes. Even when I whisked you off to Tartarus, as my guest, you managed everything.”

            I wrinkled my nose. “You mean as your captive.”

            “Guest, captive, very good friend, whatever title suits you.”

            I took a step back. “Not that good a friend. Anyway, it’s all about living my life, on my own terms. Learning to make good decisions, living with the consequences of bad ones. Where’s the fun in suddenly knowing everything, but never having experienced it?”

            He tilted his head. “Maybe I should experience some of this college.”

            I practically jumped up and down. “Oh, you’ll love the University of Alaska! Skiing, snowshoeing, the Iditarod. Just leave Cerberus at home, he doesn’t play well with other doggies.” The three-headed guardian of Tartarus was a big wuss- unless another dog came near.

            Hades looked puzzled. “But I thought you were going to the University of North Carolina.”

            I narrowed my eyes. “I am. If you want the complete college experience, you have to go where you don’t know anyone. And no using your super powers. Learn the old fashioned, mortal way; read, study, write a paper.”

            His brows dropped down, hooding his eyes. “I see. You don’t want me going with you.”

            I held up a finger, counting. “Let’s see: psychotic wife.” Up went another finger. “Insane mother-in-law.” Third finger rose. “You use your powers to get anything you want.” Another finger stood. “You’ll ruin any chances of me getting a date while you,” and I glared at him, “romance” your way through the student and academic body.” Finally, the thumb. “And who knows what will happen to the fate of mankind if your other wacky relatives drop in. Remember the havoc all of you created in NYC?” Poor Meg was branded a lunatic, mumbling to store windows when it was a communication portal so we could talk while I was in Tartarus. Some people still remembered that.

            He shrugged. “Yes, well I guess Persephone and some others might misunderstand that I was simply indulging my curiosity.”

            He’d be indulging all right, and not in the academics.

            He waved a languid hand and I was back in my room, amidst the chaos of heaped clothes and new bedding to be packed. 

            On the bed was a box, beautifully gift wrapped in gold, with a tag that read, “Sharisse, no tricks, I promise. L, H.”

            Should I believe him, and open it, or go by past experience?

Don't know the whole story? Catch up- first with 

Then with 

And tell Sharisse if she should open the box...

And if you're going back to school, have a great year and much success!

Char

Blurb, Blurb, Blurb...

Congratulations! Someone asked you to write a blurb for their novel.

After reading the book, it doesn't feel like an honor anymore, it feels like a trap.

Because you don't like the book.

You don't want to insult the author/friend with an honest "I didn't like it" tag, nor do you want to lie "I loved it!"

Sticky situation, yes, but it doesn't have to be, you're getting yourself worked up for nothing. You don't have to say you loved it, or even liked it. You are not required to mention the love triangle would bore your 90-year-old Puritan grandmother, or the over-description slowed the pace so much a snail was Indy 500 worthy in comparison. Nowhere are there rules for writing blurbs- except one: it has to come from the heart. Seems like a conundrum?

Consider this: "Fashion, witty prose, intrigue, and action- Blonde OPS has it all!" Author/publisher/ friend Shannon Delany wrote this blurb. Does it tell you if she absolutely adored it? No. Couldn't put it down? Nope. Had to create a fan club or she'd die? No way. What Delany does is tell you what the novel has: fashion, witty prose, intrigue, and action (all true). Those key words alone should help the reader decide if they want to read it. Using my own books as illustration (lest there be any misunderstanding about how wonderful everyone else's book is), here is the review for Sirenz Back in Fashion from Booklist: "The experiences of this sartorial odd couple are funny and entertaining... Bennardo and Zaman are bringing the gods into the twenty-first century." What a great review, right?

Well, kind of. Booklist was middle of the road; it liked some aspects, didn't like others. Those ellipses means there are other words in between the quotes. When using a not-starred review, authors, publishers, agents, and publicists put a positive spin on it by kind of hopping over the not-so-nice parts.

That's how you have to think- compartmentalize. List what you liked about the story; it could be that it's sci fi, that it has a dragon, that there is a tender romance. A few choice words are all that is needed. If I was asked to blurb Game of Thrones, which after three years I still haven't finished the first book because it's so dense, here's what I would say: "Rich and vivid description, deadly royal intrigue, and a diverse cast of villainy, Game of Thrones will keep you wondering who's next to die..." All that is true. And really, I constantly wondered who was the next corpse. Nowhere do I say I love it, or that you should spend your money on the books. Readers have to decide that for themselves. Perusing a few pages will tell them if it's something they would like.

So don't fret if someone asks you to do a blurb. You won't commit a mortal sin by helping an author out with a few words, even if you don't like the story. Blurbs are important because it may draw a potential reader in when they glance at the back cover. With so many books out there, decisions have to be made where to spend limited money. Books without a blurb may leave the impression that they aren't 'good' because no one will endorse them. Celebrities and well-known authors have no trouble getting blurbs. For a mid-list or debut author without connections, it's a struggle. I have seven books (soon eight) with my name on them and getting blurbs from the writing community is a nightmare (and I don't know any celebs) because they are afraid to commit.

Blurbs are an important starting point to book success. If you can help bring a reader to a book, it's the author's job to keep them in. Please say yes and gift the author with a few well-chosen words.

Char

Tell Santa What You Want For Christmas...

No, I'm not asking for anything (world peace and compassion seem to be out of reach for humanity), although I would like a new agent, a new book contract, and if I promise to be very good, a spot on the NYT bestseller list. But if I could play Santa, this is what I would give the characters in my books...

Let's start with Jack, the common gray squirrel in the Evolution Revolution series. Without spoiling anything in the next 3 books of the series, I would love to give him a woodland where he never has to worry that humans will come cut it down. Don't know if even a national forest is safe these days from greedy corporations and the Environmental Protection Agency (ha!) being so buddy-buddy. I would give Jack the biggest tree of his choice and hope it was safe for any future Jacks...

For Alice in my short story, Through the Worm Hole (Beware the Little White Rabbit anthology), I would give her all the rare, exotic tea she could drink. I would hope that she could keep it safe from thieving giant rabbits...

Bec in Blonde OPS- I could say a new super-duper laptop, but hackers are particular. You can't buy just any laptop. (My sons taught me this. The hard way. They choose, I pay part because what they want is always so ridiculous.) So for Bec, I would gift her with an all expense paid trip to H.O.P.E. (Hackers on Planet Earth), so she could learn even more hacking skills to catch the bad guys. I would hope that she wouldn't get dragged into the darker side of hacking; once was enough...

Sharisse in Sirenz and Sirenz Back In Fashion you might think is easy to buy for; she loves fashion, bling, the nicer things in life. But when you have Hades, Lord of the Underworld, throwing 5 carat diamonds rings at you and lavishing you with whole new wardrobes, well, it's a little harder. But I think what Sharisse would want more than anything material is a soul mate. Someone with the romance of Hades, the sweetness of Caz, and the urban appeal of Jeremy. That's a tall order, but I'd wish that for her.

To Meg, I would give her a vintage clothing store. She'd never wear outrageously priced, brand new clothing. She would be happiest discovering, buying, and reselling quality vintage. (I can feel Sharisse shuddering at the thought of wearing someone else's used clothes...) To Meg, this would be good karma because it's reusing something rather than creating more, reducing waste as clothes are recycled, and recycling materials instead of dumping them. A win for Meg and the earth.

Ah, Hades... the ultimate bad boy you love to lust after. He's married to Persephone (or, was tricked into it), so Sharisse under his Christmas tree is not going to happen. The ancient Greek gods don't seem to have divorce as an option, so for both Hades and Persephone, I gift them marriage counseling. If they spent more time trying to please their partner rather than themselves, I think they could make a go of it, and stop troubling the poor, hapless humans.

I have a host of other characters from unpublished works. Maybe next year they'll make the list (if they're very good and get published).

And what holiday gift would you give your characters?

Char

The Magic in Ordinary Things

I've been quiet on social media and missed my Monday blog post because this is where I've been:

St. Thomas, the US Virgin Islands. Ahhh. I haven't had a vacation in several years (I don't count days doing roller coasters or Saturday/Sunday trips as real vacations.)  Got off the plane (eventually, but that's a story/rant for another day...) and it was 85 degrees. Sunny. Left the kids home. Cleared my desk so everything else could wait until I returned. Even book stuff. Total relaxation.

Funny thing, though... are writers really ever away from work? I think not. While here:

on this lovely beach (and several others), I heard a rooster crowing. Yep. There are wild chickens on the island. One of many friendly tour guides/cab drivers theorized that they originated from when cock fighting was popular. When it fell out of favor (or legality), the chickens were set free to fend for themselves. (Hey, if someone wants to abandon me to the paradise of the Virgin Islands, I'm game.) With the perfect weather, little or no predators, and bugs enough, they've flourished. Mama hens and chicks cross roads, are fed by tourists, and cruise the beaches. What a life!

What a story... No matter where a writer goes, story ideas pop up. You don't have to go to an exotic locale. Stories are the magic in ordinary things. The idea for Jack's story in Evolution Revolution: Simple Machines (and the entire series) came from a backyard squirrel and my son's third grade science homework. It was pushed along by a TV documentary. Every story has a basis in day to day life. Even in Sirenz and Sirenz Back in Fashion, the 'ordinary' is the tense relationship of two girls, very different from each other, trying to find common ground and work together. You may think there's nothing ordinary about Greek gods, especially Hades, but look past the immortality and you see a flawed being; Selfish? Yes. Arrogant? Totally. But there are qualities hidden beneath the hard polished exterior that speaks of struggles we are part of or witness to. Nothing ordinary in Beware the Little White Rabbit because it's a sci fi story? Who hasn't fought to get back something that someone has taken from them? And Blonde OPS? A story of teenage rebellion, finding oneself, and using one's talents in a positive way. Even my horror story, Faces in the Wood in the Scare Me to Sleep anthology isn't just about unnatural things; it highlights following our instincts- and protecting those we love, especially annoying little brothers.

So take the ordinary and make it extraordinary, make it magical. Now my island chicken story needs to hatch,

Keep your eyes open, magic is everywhere...

Char 

The 'List'

Like many authors, I aspire to be on The List. You know, the New York Times Bestselling list. The A list. The short list for an award.

I made two: the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators short list for the Crystal Kite Award. Members chose books from their traditionally published ranks in 11 different regions. Sirenz didn't win but really, it was a thrill to be nominated for that first book.

On the second list I have have a lot of authors keeping me company: the midlist. It's kind of like no-man's land between unpublished and superstardom. It's where most authors end up. Most of us get overlooked in favor of the big names.

But how does a book make it to the 'superstar' list? Sales have a lot to do with it (hence, 'bestselling'). And how does one get to be bestselling? It's not by talent alone. There have been some stinky books, in my opinion, that have sold millions, won awards, or had movies made of them. And there is a gold mine of superb books that don't make it off the midlist. (And no, I'm not talking about Sirenz, Sirenz Back in Fashion, or Blonde OPS. I'm talking about other people's books, this is not a plug for Sirenz, Sirenz Back in Fashion or Blonde OPS.)  Certain books just pick up a following and momentum builds. It also helps if you spend a lot of money on PR (either publisher or author), have people who are rabid about helping promote your books, and the critic gods smile on you. But even with that, some books languish, with the rest of us, on the midlist.

Beloved author Jane Yolen, seeing many authors pushed aside when celebrity books debut (as celebrities, they already have promo and money) has established a grant to help midlist authors. It's hard to compete with all the actors, singers, talk show hosts, rockers, sports players, and some-who-are-famous-but-I-don't-know-why people pushing their books and sucking up PR dollars. It's not easy being a green writer.

It's one reason I don't gush over celeb books. I use my effort for my midlist colleagues because they need it more, they're more appreciative (has anyone gotten a thank you from a celeb for mentioning or praising their book?), and frankly, I think they deserve it. We spend years perfecting our craft, revising, re-imagining, resubmitting our work. No ghost writers or on-call editors for us! Plus, we do most of the marketing for our books; publishers can only do so much when you're not a guarantee of million dollar plus sales.

So, pick a not-so-well-known author to read from the library, from the bookstore. Share it with your friends. Talk about it on your blog, your Facebook page, Twitter, Yik Yak, etc. You might be the difference between a truly good author continuing to write or being forever lost in the midlist.

Char

A Little Battered Up, But We're Both Springing Back!

The daffys are coming!!

The first buds on my daffodils are popping up!

It's been a hard winter for them; lots of snow, ice, subzero temperatures. I despaired at times that I'd ever see them. But here they are! Especially on a cloudy, looks like rain day, these make me sooo happy.

Last week, I felt like the daffodils buries in the cold ground. I had the worst case of the flu imaginable. Every joint hurt, I couldn't move off the couch for a whole week. Then I got the head and chest congestion, cough. Total misery.

On Tuesday, I started feeling a little better. Still stiff and sore, still congestion, but just a bit more 'awake.' I dragged my butt to do a few things around the house, took a nap, then dragged myself out to bell practice. I was dead by 9:30 pm.

But today I woke up feeling even a little bit more normal. Too sore to go to yoga, but I'm thinking a little swim to loosen up the joints. (I never knew what total body pain felt like-I will be more empathetic when people tell me how much their arthritis and similar diseases hurt.)

And then I saw the daffys. While it's still going to be tiring and painful, we'll both persevere and in a few weeks, we will be blossoming and joyful.

Wishing you all a burst of energy and inspiration!

Char

Critic's Choice...

Reviews. No one gets glowing ones all the time. Some get none. It's the bane of artists that someone else, who may appreciate creativity, may not be creators themselves, or simply just don't 'get it' yet they get to judge us.

But, we all pass on reviews of everything around us.

(I'm known to be a bit critical.)

Don't like a lot of the Nobel/Pulitzer prize winning books--too stuffy.

Don't like VW cars--undependable and too cramped.

Don't like rum raisin ice cream--just yuck.

Don't like pretentious people--you're not that great.

Don't like the NY Giants (ex-Long Island girl, went to 2 NY colleges)--get your own stadium or change to NJ Giants.

It's in our nature.

But it shouldn't be in our nature to let critics or reviews discourage us from our art. So, VOYA hated Sirenz, didn't even look at Sirenz Back In Fashion. I have author friends who got lousy reviews, but their books sold well. Maybe critics will love Blonde OPS, maybe not.(So far, so good.)

No matter what, someone else's opinion is out of my control, but creating my art isn't--and they can't say anything to stop me.

Char

The "F" Word

Yep, I'm talking about THAT word. It doesn't faze me seeing it in adult books. I hear it almost everywhere I go. I say it.

But I kind of cringe when I hear it in Young Adult books. It's not that I think the little darlings are naive and innocent (the youngest murderer on Death Row is 11 years old and would frighten Charles Manson). We know they use the word frequently because you hear it in their conversations. (Yes, I've heard my own sons use it and it doesn't make me proud. The rule is if you fall and crack your head on the door and have to get stitches, you can use it. It seems to escape their lips a little more often than cracking their heads on doors.)

I'm no prude; I say it when agitated (in NJ, it's almost a requirement to swear when you drive on any road with these lunatics), but I don't think we ought to be encouraging it. It's a foul word, like a few others that I won't mention (and did you notice there are more derogatory words against women than men? But that's another post...) The "F" word is relatively common in everyday speech and saying "Oh shoot" sounds stuffy and fake. It will turn off the young adults we want to reach because they wouldn't say that.

The line I walk as author-mother-mentor-person of faith is using it in my books. In the three novels that I've co-written with Natalie (Blonde Ops, Sirenz, Sirenz Back in Fashion), we never once used it (and we don't plan on it- it just doesn't fit our style/story). But I have an adult and a new adult book and I'm wondering how to get around using it especially when it's a male character. It seems to be more acceptable (although I don't hold it as true) that girls will swear less. My 19-year-old protagonist, Dalen Steele, kills people. He's a poisoner. He's not going to say "sugar cookies!" when he gets shot, beat, and captured.

Maybe it's no big deal anymore. Should I just shut the "F" up on this?

Char

Snippets of Suggestions

Been working on (hopefully) the final edits of my sci fi before it goes out on submission, and PR for Blonde OPS, so I've neglected the post for this week. To atone, here are two things I'm sharing for all you writers, artists, people who need to market something.

1- Google your name, your book, your product, etc. Go past the first page, or the second ( I don't think you need to do ALL the results because there are what, thousands??). By doing this, I've found reviews and mentions of our book that I had no idea were out there. I bring up the page and then can post the link on FB and Twitter, getting more PR (free!) for our book. Natalie and other writers, friends, editors, etc. then retweet, favorite, or share- and it's spreading the word. Takes max a half hour- do it on commercials of your favorite show.

2-If you belong to a group (I belong to the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators- SCBWI) and updated my info with current pics, buying links, new books, etc. I'm no tech whiz (as Natalie will attest), but even I can do this (given enough time). Stay current on your FB, Twitter, organization, and professional pages.

That's it until next week when I may attempt the A-Z blog challenge. I signed up, but screwed up the application so I don't know if I'm in or out. (see what I mean about being tech challenged?) Natalie and my friend Yvonne Ventresca and some others will be doing it. Maybe they'll mention me and I'll see it on Google...

Char

Don't Get Too Comfortable...

It's Monday. Sometimes I like Mondays because everyone's out of the house and I enjoy the serenity and chance to work (mostly) undisturbed.

But it's Monday. That means I have to drag myself to the pool.

Swimming and writing evoke the same feelings for me; I love to do both, but each one has aspects that make me a first class procrastinator. For swimming, it's getting out of my toasty, pillow-soft bed. Creaking elbow and aching (formerly broken) toes are telling me that it's okay to miss one day. And that first dive into the water, when it's snowing and freezing outside? That takes a bit of masochism to do it three times a week.

With writing, it's the revisions. Once I know what to do it's not a problem, but forcing myself to sit and think about a plot problem (currently) is worse than going to the pool. But procrastination for avoiding sitting at the desk to fix edits can be good. While I turn over the problem in my head, I clean, do laundry, run errands (because gardening when you still have almost a foot of snow on the ground doesn't make sense), and talk to the cats. (Sometimes that helps!). When a great revelation hits, though, and I know it's going to require going through every last damn sentence (numerous times, ugh), I procrastinate (like now although Mondays are new blog post days, so I'm not really procrastinating, right?).

Logically I can reason that going to the pool regularly is good for my health (summer's coming! bathing suits, ack!) and I sleep better because I'm exhausted. So getting the edits done means I can work on sparkly new project(s).

It's just that I'm so comfortable... not going out in the cold/not sitting at the desk.

But no one ever got anywhere important by staying comfortable. So I'll get my cup of chai latte and tackle those edits.

What do you need to get 'uncomfortable' enough to achieve?

Char

A Very Hades Christmas!

As I was putting the last ornament on the tree, I suddenly knew you-know-who was there. I didn't turn around but fussed over the ornaments, making sure they were perfectly spaced.

"Hades, why are you here at my house?" Luckily my parents were out Christmas shopping. It would be hard to explain Hades' presence.

"Sharisse, mon cherie," came that voice that suggested the whisper of silk sliding off skin (he wished!). "I merely wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and give you a gift of my esteem."

Even though I knew I shouldn't, I turned around to face him. While I was desperately in love with Caz, Hades' nephew, something about this dark god gave me an illicit thrill. His wavy dark hair, his mysterious brown eyes--and that sleek, taut body that invited Bon Apetite! if I listened--were always a temptation. He was kind of like an exquisite, custom-made-to-order pair of shoes from Stuart Weitzman; the fit would be perfect, there would be none exactly like it--and I couldn't ever afford to give into the desire.

But that still didn't stop me from sneaking a peek.

He lounged in the doorway in his favorite pose, one shoulder against the frame, arms and legs crossed, his eyes glittering--and his luscious mouth quirked in a slightly sexy, mostly arrogant grin. Irresistible.

The Beast.

Pull yourself together and focus...

"Huh. Your gifts are too expensive to accept, Hades. Last one almost cost me body and soul. The Trojan Horse was a better deal." I started gathering the empty ornament boxes. He snapped his fingers and everything was tidy--he'd even cleaned the spot on the rug from who knew what spilled--and I think he did the windows, too.

It was hard not to love a man like that.

But I didn't.

And he was no man. He was Hades, Lord of the Underworld, Greek god.

And not to be trusted.

"Thank you," I said politely even if a bit cool.

He frowned. "I don't like your attention elsewhere when you're in my presence."

That's my Hades: it's all about him.

He waved a careless hand and two cups of frothy hot chocolate appeared, with extra marshmallows, the square-cut, homemade kind I looooove so  much.

He knew how to seduce a girl, and sometimes, you just can't refuse no matter how hard you try. I took the cup and lifted it in wary thanks. He held up his left hand.

"I swear there's nothing devious in the drink or my motives."

Were oaths sworn with left hands binding?

"Want to sit?" I asked gesturing toward our couch.

He graciously inclined his head, said "Thank you," and then practically sat in my lap. I had to scooch over a bit. "Unless..." and his eyes sparkled, "You'd like to have lunch in Gstaad? The slopes are perfection. I checked before popping in here."

"How thoughtful," I murmured before sipping my confectionery addiction. Mmmm. Dark, not milk chocolate. Hades knew me well.

And yet, he didn't give up trying to seduce me even though I always refused. I'd think it was just a game he wanted to win (the girl who plays hard to get) but he was so intense--and relentless.

"Thanks, but no,"I said. "What would Caz think? He's already rescued me once from your clutches. Throwing myself into your company might make him think I was playing one against the other." I put the cup down, licking the marshmallow off my top lip.

His eyes followed.

It was time to find out what he really wanted, refuse, and send him on his merry way to torment someone else.  Last thing I needed was for Caz or Persephone to drop in too. That could be awkward.

"Let's be honest for a change, Hades. Just tell me what you want. No games." His cup, along with mine, disintegrated into thin air and he leaned closer. I could barely breathe. Even so, I wasn't going to back away.Once you gave in to him, he owned you: figuratively, literally, physically--and eternally.

"Fine." His gaze held that intensity I so feared. "I want you."

Yeah, I know that. NOT happening.

I started to open my mouth to give the sweetest kiss my gluteous that I could when he stopped me.

"I'll give you ANYTHING. You want the Hope diamond? It becomes the Sharisse Johnson diamond. You want immortality? You won't age even a second. Name it."

Now most people might be tempted. Even considering I was a shopoholic (with limited funds), and yes, I liked pretty, pretty things, I didn't want anything. I had my parents, I had Caz, I had friends, and I was in the school of my choice, the Fashion Institute of Technology. No, there was nothing more I needed.

But...

"Anything?"

He slapped his hand over his heart and his fervent look told me he truly wanted the, er, pleasure of my company. "ANYTHING." His voice was almost hoarse.

If there was no limit... should I refuse? What would Caz think? Would Persephone find out? Even if she did, I knew that I'd be under Hades' protection; he was a gentleman that way at least.

I deliberated. One special gift. Only I could ask for it and get it.

I was going to do it. Sometimes, sacrifices had to be made.

Straightening my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I said "Okay."

His eyes widened and I swear I heard his indrawn breath. "Tell me what you want."

"No more war. Ever. Eternal peace on Earth."

He flushed and jumped up, scowling fiercely at me.  "You can't ask that! It has to be for you!"

Standing abruptly with fists on my hips, I glared right back at him. "You said 'anything.' And it's what I want. I have friends and a cousin who are serving in the military. I know people who have lost family due to wars. Children die when nations go to war. No more war. Ever. That's what I want."

Hades ran his fingers through his beautiful mane, more agitated than I have ever seen him. "Can't you ask for something material? Or to be forever youthful? That's what most people ask for."

I eyed him coldly. "I'm not most people. That's why you're so obsessed with me. And besides, it's Christmas. Time to think about and help others." I know some people considered me shallow because I liked to have my nails done, look perfect, and be popular, but I had a conscience and wanted to do good.

He shook his head sadly. "I can't do that. There's a thing called free will. I can't interfere with it. I believe it's the basis of your own faith. Humanity has to decide for itself, like you had to agree to our initial contract."

I felt deflated. Here I was going to put myself on the altar of Hades' lust for a noble cause, and I was turned away.

At least I tried.

"There's nothing else I want, Hades," I said softly, knowing that if he couldn't give me world peace, then he couldn't abolish disease, pain, suffering, and other ills that plagued us insignificant mortals.

With sad, soulful eyes, he whispered, "Not even a new kitty?"

I laughed. True to form, Hades didn't give up. "Tell you what," and I grabbed his hand so we stood under the mistletoe. "Just one, promise?"

Back came his arrogant smile. "Just one."

I narrowed my eyes. "And no whisking me off anywhere, no three hundred year kiss, no telling Caz, no trouble for me, got it? Or I'll tell Persephone." With a resigned sigh, he nodded. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I pulled him in for a very seductive, memorable kiss. When I moved back, he was breathing hard. He nodded, actually speechless.

I heard the key in the door--my parents were home!

But he was gone.

My cat, Chanel, came running into the room, a new pretty silver bell on her collar and a note. I pulled the note off. It read:

          My Darling Sharisse,
          I'm sorry I couldn't give you the gift you wanted, although I'm not surprised you asked for it. And           I know you won't accept anything from me, even if I promise 'no strings' but I can give you this-
          Look out your window.

          Yours eternally,

          Hades

I moved over to the window; snow fell softly, already a thin sheeting on the grass, trees, street and rooftops. He was giving me a white Christmas.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"The pleasure was all mine," he whispered back.



And so I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, a healthy and happy 2014, and a dream come true.  To one lucky random person, I'm giving away an audio copy of Sirenz. Just put your name in the comments, tell your friends, family, etc. I will notify the winner before the New Year (you have plenty of time, but why wait? You might forget...) One entry per person.

Char
                                      

I'm Waiting....

You know who I am.

But in case you're slow-witted and forgot, live in a dank hole and don't know, or had your brains eaten by a zombie, I am Hades. Ruler of the Underworld. Eldest brother to Zeus and Poseidon. Greek god. And besides being the best looking, best dressed, and best everything, I am also The Boss.

For certain individuals anyway.

Tomorrow is International Bosses Day.

That means I will expect accolades, gifts, adoration, and whatever else I can get from my minions and those whose contract is still enforceable. (You really didn't think the Sirenz got off after only two assignments, did you? No.)

So look for celebrations and praises for ME from my Sirenz Margaret and Sharisse, and my biographers Nat and Char.

I would encourage you to emulate them.

You never know when I could show up, offering you a deal. And it always helps to be on the boss'es good side....

Hades

I'm not in a position to argue with the 'Boss' man...

Char

A Matter of Perspective

Ahh, autumn. Nature's palette of fiery reds, yellows, oranges, pinks, and almost every color in between, create a storm of astounding color. The poking, prying fingers of chill winds seek to insert themselves under skirts, over cheeks, and into eyes. We snuggle into thick woolen sweaters, waterproof boots, and down laden jackets.

We seek comfort in hot chocolate, spiced coffees, and flavored brandies. Frost on our car inspires us to bake breads and pies, roast turkeys, mix up a batch of cookies.

We look forward to cuddling up with loved ones in front of a campfire or fireplace, beloved pet at our feet, feeling safe and warm and blessed.

Don't you have a cozy feeling? Aren't you feeling good?

I'm not.

My pool is closed.

There are blankets on my bed. The flannel jammies are under the pillow. Sweatshirt goes where I go. My hands and nose are cold. The cat has stopped shedding (okay, that's a good thing). My garden is dead.

Anyone who knows me, knows THIS is me:

But I can write about autumn and make you think I like it because I try to think from the perspective of people who love it.

Just because I write something doesn't mean that it's me. I can write about villains and bad things people do and that doesn't mean it's what I want to do. I'm just looking out from a different perspective.

Can you stand away enough from something to see the opposite perspective?

Char

Gal Pal Time!

This is where I was last week:

I love doing book signings, and this one was great because:

*We had a great organizer, Cathy Genna, from the East Brunswick Barnes & Noble who put this signing/educator event together. (Cathy won 'Bookseller of the Year' from the Romance Writers of America!)

*There was a good turnout from teachers and they asked questions.

*It was with fellow authors (we're all members of Kidlit Authors Club, but we do signings with non-members at events) that I like.

We talked to some teens, sold some books. We had fun!

I'll update my schedule so you can say hi!

Char

To Inifinity- If You Can Get Beyond...

Infinity: Without end. Endless. Never ending. Get the pic?

Right now I'm stuck in an infinity loop (actually two, but we'll get to that in a bit).

I'm queasy. I think it's from the headache; not quite a migraine (yet) but I had it when I went to bed and I think I had it all through sleep. I can't take any medication because I feel queasy. Where do I break into/out of the loop? I could take the chance and swallow a pain reliever, hoping it won't upset my stomach further, or I could try to wait out the headache.

It's like that with writing (my second loop), but it could be anything that poses a conundrum. You have a tough situation, but the cure/solution seems just as bad.

Sometimes we have to make tough decisions, take a chance. In my writing, I faced a block. I could start the project/chapter over which seemed so drastic, even painful.

I decided to wait it out. I raked my yard, cleaned out gardens, cleaned up the pool area, did laundry, etc; everything but face the problem. Somewhere between hauling a garbage can full of leaves to the compost pile and fixing the rosebush trellis which had broken and fallen over, the answer to my plot problem came to me. Now I knew how to make a good guy into a villain without being obvious. (I hate the obvious.) So after I post this, I need to revise that scene. Waiting brought the answer to my puzzle.

Waiting will not bring the cure to my headache/nausea. I fear my headache will only get worse, becoming a full blown migraine leaving me incapacitated. and then I really may puke my guts out. For this, it's better to put something in my stomach, swallow some medication, and take my chances.

If we all knew when to wait and when to jump in a tough situation, we could always make the right decisions and take the right actions. Most of the times, we just have to go with our gut.

Char

So Not The End Of The Road

He was driving way too fast.

That was the opening line in my novel Crash and Burn. A contemporary ghost story that has evolved from the first novel I ever wrote, The Recalling. It started out as an adult book (sexual content). First, the word count was too low. So I stretched it. Then other projects came up: never to be published picture books, magazine articles that did get pubbed, and then my middle grade novel, Evolution Revolution: Simple Machines (not pubbed). Then came Sirenz, Sirenz Back In Fashion (Flux), and now, Blonde Ops (Thomas Dunne, 2014).

I'm always working on several projects because now that the older kids can drive themselves and I have just the youngest, I have more time. True, I'm out of the house going places six, sometimes seven days a week with fencing, math tutoring, bell practice, and tournaments,and let's not forget family visits and holidays that keep me busy, but I do find I have more time. So I work.

Having completed yet another revision, I sent Crash off to my beta readers. They suggested some changes. Good, because I knew there were holes and fresh eyes always help. I revised and sent it to my agent, Natalie Lakosil. She loved it BUT it was still rough, which I knew, and she listed some changes. No prob. I made the changes, sent it back. It came back with major change suggestions. I incorporated all but one which would in no way work. Sent it back. It was returned with a 'meh.'

Of course I fumed. I made all the changes! I revised, edited, reread, had others do the same. The novel was much better than when I first sent it. Why the 'meh' now?

The answer I got was that editors are 'tired' of paranormal and want contemporary stories.

Oh please.

They said that about vampires years ago, and yet I still see them being published. And they're not all fabulous. Then the editors were tired of werewolves. Yep, they're still coming out. I don't see paranormal going away any time too soon because it's just too popular. And by the time I get a contemporary novel written, polished, and submitted, I'll hear that they're tired of contemps. You can't win playing the 'what's hot now in the market' game because you'll always be behind.

So what do I do if my agent doesn't want it? Throw all that work away? I've actually heard some agents say that if they don't like it, that's the end of the road for that novel.

I think not.

I'll keep working on it. My critique group just read it and I know they'll have great suggestions. When I go to an SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators) conference, I'll get a critique by at least two editors. And it they don't like it? I'll put it away for a bit while I work on more promising novels.

If I'm lucky, I'll have an editor say, "I've read your books. Send your manuscript to me." Or my agent will say it's time to bring it out again.Or, I can always self pub down the line.

One thing is for sure; to quote Mr. J.R.R. Tolkien, "The road goes ever on."

Char

The Next Big Thing Meme

What's the next big thing you ask? I was tagged by the adorable Cesya McRae Cuono (The Collector, Battle Scars) and the remarkable Shannon Delaney (13 to Life series, Weather Witch series) to join their blog tags for The Next Big Thing Meme. So, here it goes:

What is the working title of your next book?

Blonde Ops, which is co-authored with Natalie Zaman, or Lethal Dose, my solo novel.

Where did the idea come from for the book?

Our editors at Thomas Dunne (St Martins) Books, Peter Joseph and Kat Brzozowski, came up with the idea for Blonde Ops (‘Jane’ Bond, Roman Style), and Lethal Dose was my NaNoWriMo project.

What genre does your book fall under?

Blonde Ops is YA hacker adventure humor (is that a new genre?) and Lethal Dose is a sci fi adventure.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

Hmmm. For Blonde Ops, I think Bec Jackson, the main character would be great played by Chloe Grace Morelz (500 Days of Summer, Hugo, Dark Shadows). Of course my co-author may disagree… For Lethal Dose, I would like the main character Dalen to be played by Sean Faris (Christmas With Holly, Bonnie& Clyde, Burn).

 What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book? Blonde Ops –Bec Jackson is a non-conformist teenager who becomes “Jane” Bond, and goes to Italy, taking her hacker skills to save the First Lady. Lethal Dose- Dalen doesn’t poison anyone who doesn’t want it—or deserve it.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency? Blonde Ops will be published by Thomas Dunne (St Martins) and debuts Spring 2014. Lethal Dose is on my laptop, awaiting the final chapters and mucho polishing before it goes to my agent.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

Blonde Ops took several weeks for the first draft, but that was working from a detailed chapter by chapter synopsis. If you add synop & ms writing time, a little less than six months. Lethal Dose was written as a NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project, so it took 28 days (I skipped the last two, but I guess I should have finished it.) I’m hoping to finish it by the end of December, so two months!

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre? I think Blonde Ops could be compared with Ally Carter’s Uncommon Criminals series. Lethal Dose I really have no idea because it involves science fiction elements and a teenaged poisoner. Maybe you know one?

Who or what inspired you to write this book? Our agent, Natalie Lakosil of Bradford Lit, sent our book Sirenz to Kat and Peter. They were looking for someone to write a book based on an idea they had. Our style meshed with their need. As for Lethal Dose, the idea of a teenage poisoner, who helps support his family a little like Katniss in Hunger Games, roaming around different planets because Earth was destroyed by an asteroid fascinated me. I wanted to do something completely different from the Sirenz series and Blonde Ops.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
Hmmm. For Blonde Ops, I think Bec Jackson, the main character, would be great played by Chloe Grace Morelz (500 Days of Summer, Hugo, Dark Shadows). Of course my co-author may disagree… For Lethal Dose, I would like the main character Dalen to be played by Sean Faris (Christmas With Holly, Bonnie& Clyde, Burn). 
 

Who or what inspired you to write this book? Our agent, Natalie Lakosil of Bradford Lit, sent our book Sirenz to Kat and Peter. They were looking for someone to write a book based on an idea they had. Our style meshed with their need. As for Lethal Dose, the idea of a teenage poisoner, who helps support his family a little like Katniss in Hunger Games, roaming around different planets because Earth was destroyed by an asteroid fascinated me. I wanted to do something completely different from the Sirenz series and Blonde Ops.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest? Blonde Ops has fashion, technology, international intrigue, an Italian hunk… And Lethal Dose has a male main character who uses poisons, but with a caveat- he doesn’t poison children, the innocent, or for political/monetary gain.

Now that you've gotten your sneak peek, let me tell you about my co-horts-

I met Cesya at PAYA (Pennsylvania loves YA). Another person with a severe obsession for writing and reading, we chat on FB and she was the first to intvite me to The Next Big Thing Meme blog tag. Look for her book, "The Collector" to debut shortly- she's started the countdown on her blog.

Shannon I met at Unmask the Writer Within, a Halloween event thrown by friends Melissa Marie and Patricia Locatelli and the Mysteries on Main Street Book Store. (Great peeps, all!) We've done a few signings together and keep in touch via FB too. Watch for her new series, The Weather Witch a 'stormpunk' novel which debuts soon too.

So now I pass the torch to my fellow KidLit author and friend, Alissa Grosso (Popular, Ferocity Summer). I met Alissa through Natalie, we had a very nice lunch at a tea house, and we've been doing signings and meeting at the annual SCBWI conference together since then. She has a new book coming out, but I'll let her tell you about it...

And between Cesya, Shannon, Alissa and myself, it looks like there will be plenty of exciting books coming out. Stay tuned!

Char