Good Tidings of Karma

I was scrolling through the notifications on my smart phone and finally realized that I had comments from the other blog (charlottebennardo.blogspot.com, which I don't use anymore because of ISSUES. That's why I'm here.) I'm not ignoring anyone, I'm just technologically impaired.

What was interesting was a comment from Anne. Time travel backward about a year ago. Nat & I are Christmas shopping, excited about Sirenz coming out in just under six months. We're giddy, giggly and definitely doing the girly thing- we're at the mall. I drag her into an ornament store, you know the ones: they're there from right after Halloween until the day after Christmas and have hundreds, maybe thousands of ornaments that can be personalized. Right away, we felt the 'good Karma' because the first ornament we see is a Starbucks coffee cup (looked Venti sized to me--perfect!) with the name "Meg." In Sirenz, Meg and Shar are always drinking hot caffeinated libations. The next ornament that caught my eye was a diamond engagement ring in a Tiffany blue box. What did Hades give Shar? (This will come back to haunt her in Sirenz Back in Fashion...) We found a number of ornaments that fit into Sirenz. So of course I bought a lot of them. My tree is going to fall over under the staggering weight.

Fast forward to a few months ago, and Anne, the saleswoman from the ornament store, comments under the first blog, What Dreams May Come. She remembered us and our book, and was so excited to see the book debut. She hopes we'll find her again and say hello.

Well how mystical is that? A lot of people must come in and tell their Christmas story about what a certain ornament means to them, but she remembered us? It's enough to make you cry with joy. Anne, I hope you find my new blog and say hello here (I will try to find you on the other one and bring you over, but me + technology = nightmares. Look for the debut of our website, www.thesirenz.com). Nat and I will be back--to say hello, thank you for remembering us, bring you some swag, and yes, buy more ornaments. After all, there are 3, maybe 4 books in the series.

And to Katia, I'm not forgetting you! Your comment on my post, I'm Not Laughing about loving the humor of Sirenz and agreeing with my lament that we need more humor in our oft-times depressing society put a smile on my face. We will definitely continue the humor in the rest of the books, so stay tuned for more laughs!

Keep the comments coming, I will get to them. Know that I am reading them and look forward to hearing from my readers (and you don't have to agree!). Sometimes it takes me awhile to remember all the intricacies of blogging and building websites and everything technological, but I will get there!

Char

A Cold Day In.... New Jersey

This blog is late--but it's not my fault! (You'll see!) Natalie and I went to Johnstown, NY, to do an "Unmask The Writer Within" event (thank you Melissa, Patty, and Mysteries On Main Street for organizing! And all the fabby authors there, kisses!). There was a warning of snow, 2-4", but armed with winter coat, gloves, boots, trusty GPS, and new all-weather tires, Natalie and I went and had fun, signed books, and made friends. Even though my car collected three inches of snow, the roads were merely wet. As we headed back to our bed & breakfast where we stayed-more on that later-we saw dry roads and no snow.

Snowstorm my foot!

While in New Jersey... Wham! Bam! Crack! The Nor'easter brought an ice storm. No power, heat, phone, internet, TV, refrigerator, computer-basically we were no better off than the early colonists. Luckily, having city water meant at least flushable toilets and ice-cold showers. I may never be warm again. No school for my sixth grader but thankfully the high schooler had classes, even if with a late opening. I was forced to eat donuts for breakfast.

I guess I could have sat in Starbucks, enjoyed a Chai latte Venti, and posted from there on my laptop (and warmed up) but with civilization as I know it suspended, I had to worry about procuring food, showers, clean clothes, and still give out treats, get one son to SAT prep course and the other to fencing and Trick-or-Treating.

It was the Halloween from Hell. Thanksgiving will be dedicated to being warm, fed, and a part of civilization.

Char

A Revision of the Reviewer's Reviews. Uh, huh?

Previously I said I wouldn't do book reviews because of that whole 'I-can't-give-everyone-a-5-star-review-because-no-one-will-take-me-seriously' and 'the-publishing-community-is-small' thing. (Boy who cried wolf and dog doesn't poop in his space kind of deal.)

So, being almost brilliant, I've decided to feature books (two at a time because I like some pressure & tend to take on a lot more than I should), one published years ago and one relatively recently. I'll tell you what worked; what one element or device stood out. Even bad books can have some redeeming quality- I think porn and violent-content publishers use that argument to get past decency standards. But I'm not saying any of these books are bad; some will be great, some will be meh and some I will hate- but I won't tell you. No ratings, just one thing I liked about it.

The Lord of the Rings. It does happen to be my all time favorite book, and I've said so on interviews and such so this is not a deal breaker. It's probably the only time I tell you it's my fave book (other than my own!). The best element of this book (keeping the trilogy together)- is the world building. From descriptions of the inhabitants of  Middle Earth (elves, orcs, ents, etc.) to the magic (palantiri,  glowing swords, Light of Galadriel) to the rich language (poetry, elvish script, Rhohirrim etymology), Tolkien was the grand master. He incorporated good vs. evil, romance, war, murder and salvation, hope and tragedy, heroes and the lost, humor and darkness. The only things missing (but not missed) are sex, foul language, and teen angst. Like many, I consider Tolkien to be a literary genius. Wish I'd been able to read LOTR instead of some of the boring, dense, so-called 'classics' (D.H. Lawrence comes to mind...) I was forced to read.


The next book with a great device is Alissa Grosso's  Popular. It seems like a 'popular-girls-are-so-mean' story, but it employs one of my favorite devices: the unexpected twist. I love surprises! And Alissa made me gasp! (Sorry, not going to spoil it, go read the book.) There's nothing that's more detestable than being able to correctly guess a book. Okay, we all know how any story about the Titanic is going to end- but it's like that for stories about recorded human and natural events; we know how the main thread is going to shake out so the other elements must do extra duty to keep us interested. Two thirds through her book, Alissa threw a curve ball--right over home plate and I never saw it!

So, no stars or smiley faces or thumbs up; just something I liked about two books.

Word Up!

I was slacking off, watching TV and one of those infernal commercials came on; a couple are painting a room, they touch hands, and the background dissolves into a panoramic forest vista with a bed or tub. Yeah, a Viagra commercial. For... ahem... a malfunction. My son giggles- "It's dysfunction," he informs me. Dysfunction, misfunction, malfunction; what's the diff? According to Webster's Encyclopedic Unabridged Dictionary, circa 1983 (one of those big jabonies that weighs a gazillion tons which I refuse to give up because the online and Microsoft dictionaries are seriously lacking):


Dysfunction:  n. Med., malfunctioning, as of a structure of the body.

It appears dysfunction and malfunction maybe the same thing. That's common in English, multiple words meaning the same thing (think Thesaurus).

Malfunction: n. failure to function  properly: v.i. to fail to function properly.  Same definition, but it looks like dysfunction applies strictly to medical issues. Okay, the body can have a dysfunction, while the car can have either (noun) a malfunction of the engine, or, (verb) the engine malfunctioned.

Misfunction / Disfunction Uh, no such words. At least as of 1983. And having made Webster's my literary lord and master, I will never use these two words. Ever. And neither should you. We have enough clutter, slang, anachronisms, abbreviations, made-up, ill-,  improperly or inappropriately used words in our language. So don't. It really annoys me. And you do not want me to hear you use the word 'irregardless.' (I will need a sedative or other serious chemicals to rein in my outrage.)

At least I know the makers of Viagra are using proper English. Hopefully Johnson & Johnson (my maiden name is Johnson, but no relation. Darn, could really use the fame and money), will take note and forever eradicate their slogan "It don't ouch me" on their bandage commercials. [Kindly note that I did not say 'Bandaid' which is a registered trademark of Johnson & Johnson. If I can observe the proprieties, so can they.] 

So my knowledge of dys- vs. mal- function has been refreshed, and two plausible but non-existent words abolished from my memory. Now if only I could obliterate all those 'dysfunction' commercials.

Critical Mass

When Nat & I first started on this journey with Sirenz, we were told to do Facebook (we do- even have a page for Sirenz), and Twitter (we do- @natalie_zaman and @charbennardo) and blogs (we do- natalizezamanblogspot.com and well, you're here). I've already touched on just doing writerly posts, which would bore the non-writers vs writing about any random thought, which Writer's Digest warned against doing because it doesn't give off a serious writing dedication vibe. Our editor said we should talk about our book (gotta sell it!) which we do occasionally, interviews with other writers (hmm, haven't done that yet) and reviews.

Reviews. Of other people's books. That presents a problem.

It's not like I have a problem giving my opinion. (Stop snickering those who know me!) That's never been a problem.

It's not like I don't read (Overflowing bookshelves, serious book expenses.) I'd rather read than watch American Idol, Glee, or the host of other really dumb TV shows.

The problems is: what if I don't like the book? Not everyone loves Sirenz (dramatic pause while I wait for mass denial, 'That's not true! We ALL love Sirenz!' Ok, not happening.). BIG SECRET HERE: I do not love every book I read.

When you're done gasping, there's more: there are some bestsellers that I've scratched my head and said "What's the fuss?" I won't mention them by name and this is where it gets sticky. I'm open to honest reviews- Sirenz has some 4 & 5 star reviews, and yet VOYA hated us with a passion that clearly was frightening. One blogger dropped the F-bomb so many times I check my mail for powdery substances. But I don't rave and rant or cry (not that you see anyway). This is the land of the free- and if you want to say something, say it. Doesn't say anywhere that I have to agree. But free speech comes with a caveat; you become known by your words. I do NOT want to be the 'author who hates [Book Title]!' Some people love Twilight and can't understand those who do not. Others loathe the book and make fun of those who live their lives by Team Jacob or Team Edward. (My friend Yvonne is snickering right now because almost every conversation has a Twilight mention.)  Criticizing or praising a book puts you into a nay or yay camp.

I never went to camp, so it's too late now to join one. I read books, and if we're talking face to face, I tell you what I liked about them. If other people in the conversation bash the book, then I feel free to say what disappointed me. I will not do a written review because words can bite you in the butt (yes, I've learned that the hard way). Plus, a lot of books I'm reading now are by people who've become my friends. Writing is a hard enough job; rejections by editors, critiques for you to change your work, efforts to market your book, and a host of so many other burdens that only authors know exist. I do not want to add to the already arduous task.

So, no reviews. I can definitively say however, that there is something I like in every book; maybe it's one character, a scene, or just the cover. You'll just have to sample the book and make up your own mind without my guidance. Enough said.

A Change of Seasons

Yeah, it's that time. Fall.

Every year, I hate it.

Why?

So many reasons; one, I have to close my pool. Not being a member of the polar bear club, I don't swim when it's cold. Brrrrr! I don't even like it when the day is cooler than 85 degrees. (I know you've heard me say this.) I'm a summer gal and I don't tolerate cold well. Maybe because my blood pressure is really low 90 over 60, with a low pulse). I think I'm half dead. My blood moves s o o  s l o w l y. My feet, hands, nose, ears, and face are always cold. Plus, having had some broken bones and corrective surgeries  (don't get me started on THAT sob story) the cold makes bones and joints hurt. So when it gets cold, I really have to bundle up. And skiing or playing with the kids? I look like the Michelin Man I'm so puffed from all the layers. The pool closed up is a visual smack in the face that soon I will be frozen all the time.

Next, I have to pack up my shorts, tanks, flipflops, and bathing suits. And then drag out the sweaters, long pants, gloves, hats, and thermal underwear (hey, you ever sit at Homecoming Weekend watching lousy football and our award winning, nationally ranked marching band in October or November? Baby it's freaking freezing!) And while I love fuzzy socks (oooh, nice!) I like walking around bare footed and wearing as little as legally, ethically, morally, practically, physically and parentall allowed. Fall says to me, "You'll be bundled up and you'll STILL be cold."

Naked trees. While the falling colored leaves are so pretty, once they're gone everything's gray and drab and dead-looking. The rain doesn't make a soothing patter on the leaves, calling to you to sit under a porch while it lulls you into a sense of peace, or daring you to run and splash indecently in rolling rivers in street gutters. All you see are bare, skinny branches waving with menace when the winds start to howl.

And that's another thing- the wind doesn't howl in the spring or summer, but it does in the fall and winter, when daylight dies quicker, leaving you to trudge through the eerie darkness, seeing eyes in the black of woods (even if it's only on the side of your driveway). The wind sends prickles of cold up your sleeves, in your nose, through your jeans (and yet another practical reason not to wear those STUPID jeans that cost you a fortune but are all chewed and ripped up. Duh.) A summer breeze of delight has turned cruel and insidious, lurking in bare woods, circling the house, waiting to attack.

The deathly silence. Where is the symphony of crickets? It's replaced by the hoot of a mournful owl, giving last rites to some poor creature. All sounds of life have been sequestered deep underground, or have flown away till the Earth changes its attitude and comes round again for spring. In fall, the imaginings of the mind make the heart pound in our ears like bombs, terror twisting up the volume of the blood screeching through our veins; was that a cracking branch? Is someone following me? Is there an ANIMAL or MONSTER waiting to pounce? Crickets would warn me...

The death of fireflies. There is no aspect of childhood summers I adore more than fields of dark shrouded trees and grass festooned with the twinkle of fireflies gaily playing a tag of life and love. In fall, they are gone, leaving an unbroken void. The loss of light is added to the loss of warmth, color and sound.

My favorite ice cream place closes down. Sure the grocery store has lots of flavors. But not even Ben & Jerry's, or the Cold Stone Creamery can compare with Polar Cub's mega huge waffle cone of black raspberry ice cream with chocolate cookie crumbs. It's not just the ice cream, it's the experience of sitting on a picnic table, trying to catch all the drips before they land on my bare legs; it's the little chats with my sons over everything and nothing, giggling, being silly, (laughing when kids wear more than they eat), and just enjoying the moment.

Then there are the things only summer can bring: Fourth of July fireworks, the balloon festival, Classic Car night in downtown Somerville, spontaneous barbecues with our neighbors the Burgermeisters (for real) and the Orlandos, late nights and too many beers in our pool bar with friends, and beaches, amusement parks, water slides... I could just go on.

And you want me to be glad to give all that up for ugly naked trees, shivering from the cold, scratchy wool (hey, I can't afford ALL cashmere), clumpy shoes, short days and long nights, and being forced to cloister in my home?

All that just for eating hot apple pie made from crisp apples, carving goofy faces on pumpkins, feeling cashmere against my skin, having a blush on my cheeks from the wind, and enjoying bonfires in the backyard while we make s'mores with friends?

Sorry. I miss summer.

Conundrums, Quandries and Puzzles

There are rules for everything; driving, eating, behaving, even blogging.  Writer's Digest featured an article about blogging and one of the tips they gave is that if you're a writer, you blog about writing. Seems straightforward enough. I'm a writer, I can do that.

When Sirenz was pubbed, we were advised by our editor and others in the business to have a blog. We did, Okay, things were going well.

Then we were told not to harp on our book or just writing because we could alienate people who may like to read, but don't want to hear about writing.

So now what do I do? Listen the the bible of writing, which has given me so much wonderful, applicable and honest advice, or listen to people in the publishing world, in contact with literally, thousands.

What a conundrum.

I think the answer is... both. Because life is never black and white (unless it's one of those half black, half white cookies).  When I have a topic on writing, I'll post on that. Sorry friends who aren't interested in writing, the publishing world, and all things related, but I am a writer after all. It's my passion, my driving force. If you know me, you know this (because I bore you talking about books, writing, my projects). This will make Writer's Digest happy that I've read and used their advice.

But even I run out of 'writerly' stuff. Or get bored with it. Or have a rant (I've done several of those) that I need to get out. This occasional little digression keeps things lively, placates those who don't want anything to do with writing, or entertains the casual peruser. Those who don't know me will get to know me a little better through these types of posts. Anyone who is acquainted with me will snort and say yeah, typical Charlotte.

So, you won't always see writing tidbits, or whining complaints, or amusing musings. Blogging, like life, has rules and sometimes those rules don't fit. Don't speed is a rule- but when you're ready to have that baby, cops will overlook and even assist you in speeding. You should wait half an hour after eating before swimming- experts now say that isn't necessary. Never use incomplete sentences. Huh. See? Three rules amended, thrown out, or ignored.

So quandry solved. Rules aren't absolute. Let's hope the police officer buys that if I get pulled over.