I'm Signing Her Death Warrant

If you know me well enough, you know Mariah.

We've come to a parting of the ways, and I think it's going to kill her. And her 10W40 oil will be on my hands.

Mariah is my gal pal--my 2002 Chevrolet Impala. She's darkly alluring in her midnight blue coat. She's feisty with her V-6 engine. She's sexy with her aluminum rims and rear spoiler. She's got a good handle in any situation with her traction control, power steering and ABS brakes.

We've been together from the beginning; she was made especially for me, delivered at the local dealer. When I had to fly to Florida for my father's funeral, I took her keys so no one (read: husband) could drive her while I was away.

And I've sold her.

(*eyes moisten, throat closes a little bit.)

She's a long car; it's a tight squeeze to fit her into her spot in the garage (especially with that shelf of everyone's junk taking up precious space). But on the highway, her length made the road smoother and she could glide beautifully even with her weight. Only that was part of the problem--parallel parking her when I went to book signings was a nightmare. In a parking lot, no problem, but on the street (especially since I suck at parallel parking to begin with), I'd have to drive farther down the street for an easier spot and lug my swag and stuff to the bookstore.

She's pretty good on gas for her size, but when you're doing two, three, events in a week, and half of them are out of state, she gets thirsty a lot sooner.

She's roomy--but two out of three children are grown and away at school. They rarely drive anywhere with me.

Sure, we've been in some scraps; a rude b*tch in the grocery store parking lot who was busy yakking on her cell just pushed her empty cart and it headed right for Mariah's back end.

I gave that lady what for. And then parked the cart behind her pretentious SUV.

I was chased down route 287 by two whackos. But with her V-6 (and the lack of helpful police anywhere) she had no problems doing 110 mph. Dusted those creeps.

So it's killing me to sell her. She won't understand, especially when her new owner is supposed to be an 86-year-old man. Can he see well enough? Are his reflexes quicker than the jerks on the road? Will he garage her and regularly maintain her like she's used to?  I fear that she will end up in the scrap or wrecking yard. But maybe his much younger wife will drive Mariah until it's time for some young man to buy her on the cheap and fixes her up again, as a labor of love.

Have you ever been this attached to an inanimate object? I think most characters--in real life or in novels (YA, NA, or adult) don't have these kinds of attachments anymore. Maybe it's because I grew up in a racing family (both parents raced at the local speedway), my grandmother would accompany my dad and my Uncle Ed when they raced, my brother owned a race car and worked for NASCAR, and to channel my Marisa Tomei from "My Cousin Vinny", my grandfather was a mechanic, my father was a mechanic...and now my son will be a mechanic... it's just in the family bloodline to love our cars. It's the great dream of the '50s--to own a cool car. Characters today don't seem to have  these sentiments.

Now you can argue that it's too materialistic, it's shallow. I'm thinking that we are a throw-away-and-buy-new society, where the value of ownership lasts only until the next shiny thing, and no one takes care of their property anymore.

You can say I'm anal; I take care of my house the same way; if the kids don't clean their rooms, I do (and sometimes with a big black garbage bag). I like to repaint rooms every five years, even if it's the same color. My windows get washed a minimum of twice a year, inside and out.  I take care of everything so that it will last, and always look good. That could all stem from growing up in tough times; after my father no longer worked in the space program, it was hard for him to find another long term career and he worked numerous jobs to support the family. I know what it's like to have second hand toys and clothes (and they looked it).

So it's hard for me to let her go. Although he said it was a done deal, the buyer hasn't called to make the arrangements for me to drop her off and get paid. Maybe he won't show. Then I could find her the home she deserves.

And why is her name Mariah? Not after a popstar; because like the old song goes, "They call the wind Mariah."  And she rides like the wind.

Char

What am I, crazy?

I must be.

First, I'm in the middle of editing two manuscripts.

And I'm doing National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) which means 50,000 words in 30 days. It does not include time off for Thanksgiving, my anniversary or my birthday.

After all my prep work--character sketches, outline--I've decided to go with something else. So that means tonight, while son fences for 2 hours, and whatever time I can grab tomorrow with all the Trick-or-Treaters, I'll be doing another outline, more character sketches.

I hope my family still loves me by December 1st.

Check back in; I don't know how much I'll be posting with NaNo, but I'll make an attempt to keep up.

For anyone else doing this insanity, (like Shannon Delany and a few other YA writers I know), good luck! May the word count always be higher than you hoped!

Char

We Need A Break

My author friends and colleagues and I need a break.

We're the struggling authors; the un-famous, ignored by press, public, and Hollywood, and we're tired. We write our novels, revise them, send them off to be picked down to bare bones by critique groups, agents, and editors. We organize and attend events to meet eager readers, share our stories, sell a few books--and then no one shows. Or they show and don't buy. Large chain bookstores shoo us away, holding out for the few superstars. Bravely, we appeal to independent bookstores only to find they are ignored by most of their neighbors in favor of a deal on the internet. We spend more money than we make on promotion, traveling, cases of paper. and toner.

Yet, we continue to write, submit, revise, promote, and show up to sign our books against the stacked odds not in our favor.

Exhausted, sometimes demoralized, we continue to dream--and do.

So be kind--post a tweet, write a letter, send an email telling us not-so-well-known authors how much you enjoyed our books and that you look forward to our next work, and that you'll tell your friends to read it.

You just might save a writing life.

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

It's International Name Your Car Day

Really.  I got this off a list of (obscure/fun/strange) holidays from http://buildbookbuzz.com/blog/

So, in honor of my new car, a 2013 Honda Accord, I had to come up with a good name. My previous car (shhh, keep this on the Q-T because Mariah [They Call the Wind Mariah, not Mariah Carey]) doesn't know she's up for sale... I'm getting choked up, I love that car.

Middle son suggested "Car-lee." (You can tell he's not a writer type- even though I love bad puns, I passed.) Hubs rolled his eyes. Youngest son walked away. Oldest son laughed and continued texting.

Being that the car is Japanese, it has to have a Japanese name. So I searched Japanese names (I'm not particular if it's male/female gender name--it just has to 'strike' me.  Mariah and I were gal pals, and she's not replaceable in my car love, so I'd prefer a male name. It would be especially fitting because this car has all kinds of buttons, knobs, electronics- very confusing, hard to understand, time sucking to learn, and frustrating, like the males in my house.

The winner: Takara! It sounds punny enough and it means 'treasure.' While it's not a Porsche or Lambo, I'll treasure this car as long as it's dependable, gas efficient, and I can avoid all the rest of the whack jobs on the road (already had to deal with one, but that's another story).

Here he is:

(You can see Mariah on Craig's List- 2002 Impala.)

The whole idea Build Book Buzz was getting at was ways to increase attention to your book by taking advantage of these 'holidays.' (Hey, I didn't create them.)  It's kind of fun (really, I name all my cars). But linking it to my book?

I just finished writing and several revisions- I haven't even seriously submitted it to my agent, so I can't really use this holiday to promote Lethal Dose. It's a sci fi book and the main character, Dalen Steele, has a space ship that's small, sleek, slick, and super fast. He loves that ship. Not as creative as moi, he calls the ship his 'Baby,' much to the confusion and chagrin of Myca, his Lexian mentor (they have no sense of humor anyway). I'm hoping next year I can use this holiday for promo purposes, but in the mean time, Dalen & I will continue to name our modes of transportation. It seems only right when they are sometimes all that stands between you and certain death.

Goodbye for now from Takara and me,

Char

What My Son Didn't Tell Me...

Computer genius that my son is (2 sons are my IT people), he neglected to tell me that Google will not allow me to post my blog without allowing the gazillion ads. In other words, you can't activate the AdBlock.

So my posts have sat in the draft pile.

I have enabled the annoying, irrelevant, and tedious ads so that I can blog again. Sometimes, the corporations win, what can I tell you? I'm powerless.

So.... catch up and I'll be with you regularly again.

*shakes head, grumbles about stupid restrictions on technology.

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