Chele Pedersen Smith's Blog, page 4
May 19, 2018
Romancing the Royal Wedding
At sixteen, I was the perfect age to watch a woman become a princess. Did Diana's fairy tale form my fantasy, making me the romance writer I am today?
After seeing posts from friends this morning, I wished I woke up at 4 am to watch the noble nuptials of Harry and Meghan! If anything, to at least swoon over Ed Sherran's singing!
Did they even show that part?
I really hadn't paid much attention to either sons' millennial matrimony, mostly because of the time difference and the fact we don't have a monarchy. I barely understand our own politics!
But today's majestic milestone reminded me of one I did watch with my own mother in the summer of '81.
Seems like the grand procession rolled in at a reasonable hour, like 9 or 10 am on a weekday in our central time zone.
My family was staying in an unusual, well-worn motel "suite" near the Great Lakes Naval Base while house-hunting in Illinois. My stepdad was at work at his new job teaching electronics to Navy newbies and my younger brothers were probably playing with Hot-wheels upstairs in the "loft" bedroom we shared or zapping bad guys in the video arcade at the restaurant/lounge. Mom made us tea from the kitchenette.
It occurs to me now that this Royal Gala may have possibly been the pivotal point which shaped my idealistic notions of love!
I don't know any other reason why I would become a hopeless--er--- hopeful, romantic! The deck was stacked against me at the time. I was a lanky, big-footed, blemished late-bloomer who had never been kissed, never had a boyfriend and never really dated, unless an mortifying group bowling disaster ending with the karma of spilled Coca-Cola counts.
Although...
One day during our several weeks at the motel, I met a young sailor recruit, Steve from Cleveland, at the pool. I never told my mother this--she would've freaked out---but we took a stroll around the property and he made a move on me under a tree behind our unit. Turned out I was the one freaking out!
I promptly had him walk us to the front of the building to find his friends, said a quick goodbye, then bolted home. It became blossoming material in the very next teen "Sherri" book I wrote as soon as we got settled and became a mature turning point for the series.
If I wasn't ready for romance, why did I always have my head in the clouds about it? Not long before Steveland, I remember reading Can You Sue Your Parents for Malpractice? by Paula Danziger and there was a innocent kissing scene that had me drooling for a boyfriend. Yet when the first real kiss presented itself, something wasn't right.
I had plenty of infatuation up to that point, which did not pan out beyond friendship. Maybe wistful romance was safer than the real thing.
A few months later, during senior year, I had the perfect front porch opportunity with a shy boy I liked.
Both of us shifted in the awkward silence goodbye.
"What are you thinking about?" JK finally asked.
"School!" I blurted--and lied.
Why was I such a lame, lame nerd? He took it as a hint and we parted ways. Arrghh...why didn't I take the bait? I was too chicken to admit what I was really wondering. What if he wasn't thinking it too?
I finally had a chance to have a boyfriend and I blew it.
Eventually, after high school and halfway through eighteen, I got over my fright and began to have life experiences when I was more prepared.
Thankfully, memories of past heartthrobs and old flames provide rom-com relief, not cringe-worthy embarrassment. And they have a way of sneaking into my books, like those scary Steve seconds did in my teens. Except he was more of a walking billboard for stranger danger.
So let's go on a boyfriend hunt:
As mentioned in a previous blog about my lost journal, the chapter "Jesus 81" in The Pearly Gates Phone Company dredged up an old crush--Geoff. Even though it was unrequited and I made a buffoon of myself during its duration, it was fun to relive the revival weekend our youth group attended.
Man, I must have really had it bad for Geoffrey because even though I consciously named him the LINK headquarters boss of spies Lee and Galaxy in Behind Frenemy Lines, I recently re-discovered he plays a role in my high school journalism TV script, The Young Assassin. Geoff, code name Octavius, is the spy wooing-- guess who? Honey trapper Galaxy O'Jordan!
Yep, that's when I first invented her, too. Only back then I spelled it Galaxie and she had a Z28. . And until I re-read it the other day, I forgot the script even had a title.
Will Octavius end up being the one and only Geoffrey who is Gal's boss? I may just have to incorporate this into the sequel or publish a prequel.
Other flames light up Behind Frenemy Lines as well. Most of the agents' amorous adventures are fictitious trifles, outrageously impossible missions that make for a fun read. But a small fraction of elements pull in other gestures from ghosts of romance past.
For Instance:
The wild flowers are a toast of wild oats.
Lee and Gal's love song flickers familiarity to a flirty flame.
The mention of eclairs conjures up delicious mini desserts at The Light House Inn during the first office Christmas party I attended while dating my now husband.
And let's not rule out the meaning of numbers:
Are deli tickets fortune tellers? In the opening scene of Behind Frenemy Lines, Gal's placeholder is number 22...
"My favorite number," Galaxy says.
But it's really mine too-- a drool-worthy treasure of my favorite White Sox player in the 80s. Steve Kemp, Those arms!-- Although I'm pretty sure I liked the double digit first.
Also, you may notice 214 echoing through the halls of my stories. It's a special symbol of my heart encircling an elopement in my younger days on the most romantic runaway day of all. Probably the most idyllic thing I've ever done.
I throw a splash of lime-green on my tales so be on the lookout for this paint splat. It's a gist of a secret admirer who cloaked himself the enigmatic name and color.
I had just turned twenty when he lurked on the scene, spurred by a satire I wrote refuting Prince Charming and romantic love, of all things.
My English prof loved my essay so much, he printed it in the school paper. When he called to ask, it was a blockbuster moment, the first time feeling like a real writer!
This was my first semester of college and back then, before texts and social media, people replied to newspaper articles via a personals column. Used to being an invisible girl, I was surprised to get a slew of messages telling me not to give up. I had ended my piece with "May the Farce not be with you," so I guess some people took it seriously. But more importantly, it meant I was being read!
Evidence from that strange green guy randomly appeared beyond the newspaper. Envelopes were left on my car windshield at work, a Bahamas postcard appeared in my mailbox at home (!) and a gift was delivered in the lab I was manning. I always suspected it was a co-worker at the Navy electronic school, which happened to be affiliated with the college. Maybe it was an instructor, as one in particular liked to hang around.
I was close to finding out once but alas, the knowledge was not meant to be so the mystery remains...and has been written into a YA romantic suspense so stay tuned for a revamp of that.
Revisiting a passionate past revitalizes my soul. Sparks buzz, transporting me back to each love life, like electricity flowing into the Bride of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein if she were on Tinder.
It reminds me of carefree times, the spontaneity of being the girlfriend before becoming the wife. While marriage has its own intricate intimacies, it gets marred by the mundane, easily bogged by babies, bills and dust bunnies.
Adding creativity helps keep it fresh. And just like my books, whenever I need inspiration I flip through my spice rack and add a dash of zest. Voila--instant youth.
(Sort of like Galaxy adding cinnamon to her coffee, or so she thought...but that's a story for you to read and find out,)
I suppose I will always be a romantic. It's embedded in my veins and flows in the ink I pen. Besides, it's optimistic when you think about it, so it can't be a bad thing, right? 'Tis better to see the glass half-full--or even better-- overflowing with affection!
After seeing posts from friends this morning, I wished I woke up at 4 am to watch the noble nuptials of Harry and Meghan! If anything, to at least swoon over Ed Sherran's singing!
Did they even show that part?
I really hadn't paid much attention to either sons' millennial matrimony, mostly because of the time difference and the fact we don't have a monarchy. I barely understand our own politics!
But today's majestic milestone reminded me of one I did watch with my own mother in the summer of '81.
Seems like the grand procession rolled in at a reasonable hour, like 9 or 10 am on a weekday in our central time zone.
My family was staying in an unusual, well-worn motel "suite" near the Great Lakes Naval Base while house-hunting in Illinois. My stepdad was at work at his new job teaching electronics to Navy newbies and my younger brothers were probably playing with Hot-wheels upstairs in the "loft" bedroom we shared or zapping bad guys in the video arcade at the restaurant/lounge. Mom made us tea from the kitchenette.
It occurs to me now that this Royal Gala may have possibly been the pivotal point which shaped my idealistic notions of love!
I don't know any other reason why I would become a hopeless--er--- hopeful, romantic! The deck was stacked against me at the time. I was a lanky, big-footed, blemished late-bloomer who had never been kissed, never had a boyfriend and never really dated, unless an mortifying group bowling disaster ending with the karma of spilled Coca-Cola counts.
Although...
One day during our several weeks at the motel, I met a young sailor recruit, Steve from Cleveland, at the pool. I never told my mother this--she would've freaked out---but we took a stroll around the property and he made a move on me under a tree behind our unit. Turned out I was the one freaking out!
I promptly had him walk us to the front of the building to find his friends, said a quick goodbye, then bolted home. It became blossoming material in the very next teen "Sherri" book I wrote as soon as we got settled and became a mature turning point for the series.
If I wasn't ready for romance, why did I always have my head in the clouds about it? Not long before Steveland, I remember reading Can You Sue Your Parents for Malpractice? by Paula Danziger and there was a innocent kissing scene that had me drooling for a boyfriend. Yet when the first real kiss presented itself, something wasn't right.
I had plenty of infatuation up to that point, which did not pan out beyond friendship. Maybe wistful romance was safer than the real thing.
A few months later, during senior year, I had the perfect front porch opportunity with a shy boy I liked.
Both of us shifted in the awkward silence goodbye.
"What are you thinking about?" JK finally asked.
"School!" I blurted--and lied.
Why was I such a lame, lame nerd? He took it as a hint and we parted ways. Arrghh...why didn't I take the bait? I was too chicken to admit what I was really wondering. What if he wasn't thinking it too?
I finally had a chance to have a boyfriend and I blew it.
Eventually, after high school and halfway through eighteen, I got over my fright and began to have life experiences when I was more prepared.
Thankfully, memories of past heartthrobs and old flames provide rom-com relief, not cringe-worthy embarrassment. And they have a way of sneaking into my books, like those scary Steve seconds did in my teens. Except he was more of a walking billboard for stranger danger.
So let's go on a boyfriend hunt:
As mentioned in a previous blog about my lost journal, the chapter "Jesus 81" in The Pearly Gates Phone Company dredged up an old crush--Geoff. Even though it was unrequited and I made a buffoon of myself during its duration, it was fun to relive the revival weekend our youth group attended.
Man, I must have really had it bad for Geoffrey because even though I consciously named him the LINK headquarters boss of spies Lee and Galaxy in Behind Frenemy Lines, I recently re-discovered he plays a role in my high school journalism TV script, The Young Assassin. Geoff, code name Octavius, is the spy wooing-- guess who? Honey trapper Galaxy O'Jordan!
Yep, that's when I first invented her, too. Only back then I spelled it Galaxie and she had a Z28. . And until I re-read it the other day, I forgot the script even had a title.
Will Octavius end up being the one and only Geoffrey who is Gal's boss? I may just have to incorporate this into the sequel or publish a prequel.
Other flames light up Behind Frenemy Lines as well. Most of the agents' amorous adventures are fictitious trifles, outrageously impossible missions that make for a fun read. But a small fraction of elements pull in other gestures from ghosts of romance past.
For Instance:
The wild flowers are a toast of wild oats.
Lee and Gal's love song flickers familiarity to a flirty flame.
The mention of eclairs conjures up delicious mini desserts at The Light House Inn during the first office Christmas party I attended while dating my now husband.
And let's not rule out the meaning of numbers:
Are deli tickets fortune tellers? In the opening scene of Behind Frenemy Lines, Gal's placeholder is number 22...
"My favorite number," Galaxy says.
But it's really mine too-- a drool-worthy treasure of my favorite White Sox player in the 80s. Steve Kemp, Those arms!-- Although I'm pretty sure I liked the double digit first.
Also, you may notice 214 echoing through the halls of my stories. It's a special symbol of my heart encircling an elopement in my younger days on the most romantic runaway day of all. Probably the most idyllic thing I've ever done.
I throw a splash of lime-green on my tales so be on the lookout for this paint splat. It's a gist of a secret admirer who cloaked himself the enigmatic name and color.
I had just turned twenty when he lurked on the scene, spurred by a satire I wrote refuting Prince Charming and romantic love, of all things.
My English prof loved my essay so much, he printed it in the school paper. When he called to ask, it was a blockbuster moment, the first time feeling like a real writer!
This was my first semester of college and back then, before texts and social media, people replied to newspaper articles via a personals column. Used to being an invisible girl, I was surprised to get a slew of messages telling me not to give up. I had ended my piece with "May the Farce not be with you," so I guess some people took it seriously. But more importantly, it meant I was being read!
Evidence from that strange green guy randomly appeared beyond the newspaper. Envelopes were left on my car windshield at work, a Bahamas postcard appeared in my mailbox at home (!) and a gift was delivered in the lab I was manning. I always suspected it was a co-worker at the Navy electronic school, which happened to be affiliated with the college. Maybe it was an instructor, as one in particular liked to hang around.
I was close to finding out once but alas, the knowledge was not meant to be so the mystery remains...and has been written into a YA romantic suspense so stay tuned for a revamp of that.
Revisiting a passionate past revitalizes my soul. Sparks buzz, transporting me back to each love life, like electricity flowing into the Bride of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein if she were on Tinder.
It reminds me of carefree times, the spontaneity of being the girlfriend before becoming the wife. While marriage has its own intricate intimacies, it gets marred by the mundane, easily bogged by babies, bills and dust bunnies.
Adding creativity helps keep it fresh. And just like my books, whenever I need inspiration I flip through my spice rack and add a dash of zest. Voila--instant youth.
(Sort of like Galaxy adding cinnamon to her coffee, or so she thought...but that's a story for you to read and find out,)
I suppose I will always be a romantic. It's embedded in my veins and flows in the ink I pen. Besides, it's optimistic when you think about it, so it can't be a bad thing, right? 'Tis better to see the glass half-full--or even better-- overflowing with affection!
April 20, 2018
Take the Behind Frenemy Line Quiz!
Goodreads Quiz
The Behind Frenemy Lines Quiz: Are You team Lee or Galaxy?
Finally, it's here! Do you love quizzes and steamy rom-com spy mysteries? Then you're in for some fun!
Whether you've read Behind Frenemy Lines and have already hooked Lee as your book boyfriend/Galaxy as your special gal, or have it on your to-be-read list, the quiz is full of tidbits to whet your appetite. No worries if you get the answers wrong, The choices are teasers in themselves and they might just make you laugh. Besides, it's a game, not a final exam. No pressure. You can always join the agency, spy, then take it again.
So, Let's assemble a team. Whose side are you on? Comment below.
April 18, 2018
You Drew What In Art Class??
by Chele Pedersen Smith
The text arrived as I typed an article alone in the newsroom.
“Save me,” the S.O.S. signaled from my daughter’s phone. “We have a nude male in drawing today!”
Maizie's discomfort was obvious and my mind immediately flew into Mom Mode. My baby has been subjected to male nudity; call the authorities!
How can a man pose nude for a class in this techno-age when sexting is illegal? How does this get a pass when we are hyper-sensitive about sexual harassment?
My initial reflex was to protect her. When my reaction calmed down, I did what I usually do when pondering an issue. I walked around it from all angles, throwing logic at it. A) This is college. B) She is (barely) over 18 years-old. C) She is an art major. D) The human form is art. E) The art department has female models too. F) The students are supervised. G) The models do not approach the students. These reasons settled my mind.
My dad was an artist and I come from a creative family. I appreciate originality and imagination plus I have always been fascinated with the human body. Having studied Anatomy and Physiology, I love the intricate cogs ticking inside us.
After class, we talked about it on the drive home. Mae was less intimidated when the woman modeled. Why? I suspected familiarity played a role, hopefully stemming from a healthy mother-daughter relationship.
“The female would chat while the male held his junk and stared at us,”
So then I was back to my initial alarm. The woman seemingly gave off a friendly, more natural vibe while the man’s alleged behavior bordered on perverted. Maybe the model had an itch or was just the quiet type. The students were in a safe environment with the instructor in the room. Was this my daughter’s perception based on her uncomfortable view of men? Was the issue of modeling safer when it was a woman? A nude is a nude, except for dangling parts.
When I don’t understand something, nervousness takes over. The unknown is an abyss and until I fill it with knowledge, I am reluctant to explore its depths. So I do research. As a journalism student, I interviewed the art professor to help unmurk the waters. As a parent, we could all do the same. A discussion clears up a muddled mind.
“Nude modeling has been accepted in all college-level art curriculums,” Professor M assured. “Drawing the body has been accepted in history, all the way back to the Renaissance.”
I was relieved when he told me the college does background checks when hiring the models, just like any potential employee. He also said he excuses students who are opposed for religious or personal reasons only if they are not art majors. For anyone obtaining an art degree, he explains the necessity of nudes.
“It helps students overcome the stigma of trying to be perfect. It frees the artists more,” he said. “The human figure is the most exciting, but hardest to draw. Any change in the pose, a movement in the muscle, changes the whole drawing. If you can draw a human figure, you can draw just about anything."
I knew the body was admired for beauty in the art world. Just stroll through a museum or art site on the internet. We are all born naked, so there should be no shame. We do not have to assign sexuality to it. Just as medical students see the body as a remarkable machine, art students draw it for its beautiful complexity.
My daughter understands this, yet from the first day the male model showed up, she considered bolting from class. But she took the professional route. Now that she has had several sessions with nudes, if it is the male’s day, she draws fast.
***This opinion piece and a more serious article, "Would You Bare it All for the Sake of Art?" containing interviews with a male and female model appears in the April issue of my college's newspaper.
The text arrived as I typed an article alone in the newsroom.
“Save me,” the S.O.S. signaled from my daughter’s phone. “We have a nude male in drawing today!”
Maizie's discomfort was obvious and my mind immediately flew into Mom Mode. My baby has been subjected to male nudity; call the authorities!
How can a man pose nude for a class in this techno-age when sexting is illegal? How does this get a pass when we are hyper-sensitive about sexual harassment?
My initial reflex was to protect her. When my reaction calmed down, I did what I usually do when pondering an issue. I walked around it from all angles, throwing logic at it. A) This is college. B) She is (barely) over 18 years-old. C) She is an art major. D) The human form is art. E) The art department has female models too. F) The students are supervised. G) The models do not approach the students. These reasons settled my mind.
My dad was an artist and I come from a creative family. I appreciate originality and imagination plus I have always been fascinated with the human body. Having studied Anatomy and Physiology, I love the intricate cogs ticking inside us.
After class, we talked about it on the drive home. Mae was less intimidated when the woman modeled. Why? I suspected familiarity played a role, hopefully stemming from a healthy mother-daughter relationship.
“The female would chat while the male held his junk and stared at us,”
So then I was back to my initial alarm. The woman seemingly gave off a friendly, more natural vibe while the man’s alleged behavior bordered on perverted. Maybe the model had an itch or was just the quiet type. The students were in a safe environment with the instructor in the room. Was this my daughter’s perception based on her uncomfortable view of men? Was the issue of modeling safer when it was a woman? A nude is a nude, except for dangling parts.
When I don’t understand something, nervousness takes over. The unknown is an abyss and until I fill it with knowledge, I am reluctant to explore its depths. So I do research. As a journalism student, I interviewed the art professor to help unmurk the waters. As a parent, we could all do the same. A discussion clears up a muddled mind.
“Nude modeling has been accepted in all college-level art curriculums,” Professor M assured. “Drawing the body has been accepted in history, all the way back to the Renaissance.”
I was relieved when he told me the college does background checks when hiring the models, just like any potential employee. He also said he excuses students who are opposed for religious or personal reasons only if they are not art majors. For anyone obtaining an art degree, he explains the necessity of nudes.
“It helps students overcome the stigma of trying to be perfect. It frees the artists more,” he said. “The human figure is the most exciting, but hardest to draw. Any change in the pose, a movement in the muscle, changes the whole drawing. If you can draw a human figure, you can draw just about anything."
I knew the body was admired for beauty in the art world. Just stroll through a museum or art site on the internet. We are all born naked, so there should be no shame. We do not have to assign sexuality to it. Just as medical students see the body as a remarkable machine, art students draw it for its beautiful complexity.
My daughter understands this, yet from the first day the male model showed up, she considered bolting from class. But she took the professional route. Now that she has had several sessions with nudes, if it is the male’s day, she draws fast.
***This opinion piece and a more serious article, "Would You Bare it All for the Sake of Art?" containing interviews with a male and female model appears in the April issue of my college's newspaper.
March 7, 2018
Do You Like Strong Leading Ladies in Literature? Meet spy Galaxy O'Jordan...
It's International Women's Day! As swoon-worthy as secret agent Lee Clancy is, strong but sensitive spy girl, Galaxy O'Jordan from Behind Frenemy Lines would have a field day today.
Her knee-jerk reaction to defend women's rights leaks covert details she doesn't mean to reveal...
**********
[After being trapped in the White House all night, agents Lee and Galaxy devour a diner breakfast, then walk off the feast a few blocks to the parking garage. The car zooms out of the concrete maze as they head back to headquarters...]
“Let’s sleep together,” she blurted, feeling uneasy.
“Gal, you sex maniac,” Lee began in mock shame. “Are you never satisfied?”
“I mean actual sleep.” She gave his arm a gentle shove. “Partners need to stick together.”
Lee stopped at a red light. “Gal, you can count on me. I’m not your ex. I care about you, and you need rest. It doesn’t do us any good if we’re delirious. Or wait... I see what's going on. You need me to hold your hand while you get inoculated.”
Gal slumped back into the seat. “No, don’t be silly, I’ll be fine.”
Was he as loyal as he claimed? She didn’t want him out of her sight, but she did need her beauty sleep. “Okay, I’ll let it go this once. But if any funny business results from going our separate ways, I’ll have your neck. You’re not the only one with special skills.”
“Ahh, right. Viktor was Russian. Did he teach you his secret moves?” Lee asked.
“No, I have my own arsenal, thank you very much! I’ll have you know that I trained in Moscow.”
Oops, she didn't mean to let that slip! Why did she always have to defend women's lib? Nervously fumbling with the visor, a pair of sunglasses tumbled onto her lap, which she promptly donned. She turned and faced him, giving her best movie star pout.
“Wow, Moscow, huh," Lee gulped. "So you’re Russian too?” This revelation was a bit of a shock, and he was man enough to admit, if anyone asked, that it made him uncomfortable.
“I can make a mean dressing,” she joked, softening the mood but Lee didn't laugh. “Well, Ukrainian really, but just half,” she rushed to add, downgrading the stigma like she always did. “My dad is Irish, and my mom is Crimean.”
Lee gave her a sideways look. “So where’s your accent?”
“It comes out at family reunions,” Gal admitted. “As does clog dancing.” They both chuckled at that one.
“You’re a mystery woman, Galaxy O’Jordan. Ah, I believe this is your chariot, m'lady! Allow me.”
Unclicking his seatbelt, he sprinted over to open the passenger door, taking her hand as she rose. “Trust me,” he emphasized, kissing the tip of her nose. “We have to part sometime.”
“And 'parting is such sweet sorrow.' Is that how it goes, Romeo?” She kissed him softly, then, letting her accent peek through, whispered, “I know you'll be a very good boy.”
The trick was to act like she owned him and she got into her car still wearing his shades.
--Excerpt from Behind Frenemy Lines copyright 2017
I love seeing Girl Power and sharing an empowerment with women but I'm not a vicious feminist. I love men! I'm wooed with virility, as long as they treat women right. All genders deserve equal rights.
Two years ago for International Women's Day, our creative writing class prompt was a 1940s photo of women playing poker. This slam poem resulted...
(It appears in the college literary magazine this year.)
Call Our Bluff
by
C. P. Smith
Act like ladies
Birth babies, feed faces
Stay in the kitchen
No bitchin’
allowed
Bleed & cramp
Endure “wifely duties” but don’t be a tramp
The hand we’re dealt is sexist
Do we exist
to please a man?
Hey gals, it’s poker night
Aint no pillow fight
Leave dainty at the door
We’re as strong as men in the war
Rosie the Riveter proved it
Aces wild, that’s our style
Our royal flush will make you blush
We gossip, swear & guzzle beer
Smoke a stogie just like Bogie
Wage corsets & pantyhose
as bait
We’ll give it to you straight
Suffrage won but did it suffice
Blood & tears paid the price
Fatalities, new realities
Ante up…
It’s dealer’s choice
We have a voice
We’ll raise the stakes
We’re not fakes
We’re women
Can you handle us?
Copyright, Chele Pedersen Smith 3-7-16
Remember, we are in this life together. Let's shroud each other in warmth and kindness. We're all trying to survive the journey.
Her knee-jerk reaction to defend women's rights leaks covert details she doesn't mean to reveal...
**********
[After being trapped in the White House all night, agents Lee and Galaxy devour a diner breakfast, then walk off the feast a few blocks to the parking garage. The car zooms out of the concrete maze as they head back to headquarters...]
“Let’s sleep together,” she blurted, feeling uneasy.
“Gal, you sex maniac,” Lee began in mock shame. “Are you never satisfied?”
“I mean actual sleep.” She gave his arm a gentle shove. “Partners need to stick together.”
Lee stopped at a red light. “Gal, you can count on me. I’m not your ex. I care about you, and you need rest. It doesn’t do us any good if we’re delirious. Or wait... I see what's going on. You need me to hold your hand while you get inoculated.”
Gal slumped back into the seat. “No, don’t be silly, I’ll be fine.”
Was he as loyal as he claimed? She didn’t want him out of her sight, but she did need her beauty sleep. “Okay, I’ll let it go this once. But if any funny business results from going our separate ways, I’ll have your neck. You’re not the only one with special skills.”
“Ahh, right. Viktor was Russian. Did he teach you his secret moves?” Lee asked.
“No, I have my own arsenal, thank you very much! I’ll have you know that I trained in Moscow.”
Oops, she didn't mean to let that slip! Why did she always have to defend women's lib? Nervously fumbling with the visor, a pair of sunglasses tumbled onto her lap, which she promptly donned. She turned and faced him, giving her best movie star pout.
“Wow, Moscow, huh," Lee gulped. "So you’re Russian too?” This revelation was a bit of a shock, and he was man enough to admit, if anyone asked, that it made him uncomfortable.
“I can make a mean dressing,” she joked, softening the mood but Lee didn't laugh. “Well, Ukrainian really, but just half,” she rushed to add, downgrading the stigma like she always did. “My dad is Irish, and my mom is Crimean.”
Lee gave her a sideways look. “So where’s your accent?”
“It comes out at family reunions,” Gal admitted. “As does clog dancing.” They both chuckled at that one.
“You’re a mystery woman, Galaxy O’Jordan. Ah, I believe this is your chariot, m'lady! Allow me.”
Unclicking his seatbelt, he sprinted over to open the passenger door, taking her hand as she rose. “Trust me,” he emphasized, kissing the tip of her nose. “We have to part sometime.”
“And 'parting is such sweet sorrow.' Is that how it goes, Romeo?” She kissed him softly, then, letting her accent peek through, whispered, “I know you'll be a very good boy.”
The trick was to act like she owned him and she got into her car still wearing his shades.
--Excerpt from Behind Frenemy Lines copyright 2017
I love seeing Girl Power and sharing an empowerment with women but I'm not a vicious feminist. I love men! I'm wooed with virility, as long as they treat women right. All genders deserve equal rights.
Two years ago for International Women's Day, our creative writing class prompt was a 1940s photo of women playing poker. This slam poem resulted...
(It appears in the college literary magazine this year.)
Call Our Bluff
by
C. P. Smith
Act like ladies
Birth babies, feed faces
Stay in the kitchen
No bitchin’
allowed
Bleed & cramp
Endure “wifely duties” but don’t be a tramp
The hand we’re dealt is sexist
Do we exist
to please a man?
Hey gals, it’s poker night
Aint no pillow fight
Leave dainty at the door
We’re as strong as men in the war
Rosie the Riveter proved it
Aces wild, that’s our style
Our royal flush will make you blush
We gossip, swear & guzzle beer
Smoke a stogie just like Bogie
Wage corsets & pantyhose
as bait
We’ll give it to you straight
Suffrage won but did it suffice
Blood & tears paid the price
Fatalities, new realities
Ante up…
It’s dealer’s choice
We have a voice
We’ll raise the stakes
We’re not fakes
We’re women
Can you handle us?
Copyright, Chele Pedersen Smith 3-7-16
Remember, we are in this life together. Let's shroud each other in warmth and kindness. We're all trying to survive the journey.
February 23, 2018
Are Oreos Getting Out of Hand?
"C'mon, Oreos, be yourself," my teen daughter exclaimed down the aisle today.
She has a point! How are we supposed to be brave and love who we are, or teach our kids it's okay to be your quirky self if America's Favorite Cookie "wafers" on who they are?
Today's pop culture masquerade was Peeps! Um, hate to break it to you Oreo, but that gig is already taken. And last month-- Hot & Spicy Cinnamon Candies. You know, the Red Hots you used to give out in school For Valentine's day?
For the last five years or so, we've witnessed the integrity of Oreo's OG slipping away. I understand it's marketing, and other flavors can be fun. I'm all for diversity and new experiences. It's how we grow. It's fine to branch out a bit.
First Double Stuff...genius. double yum. Who doesn't want more o' the stuff when our teeth scrape off the cream? Fluff enuf said.
And sure, include the Chocolate Filled and the Golden Oreos. And mix and match those. All good, still sane. And let's be festive with those colorful Holiday creams. And when life hands you ...you know...well, the Lemon ones are tartfully smart.
Peanut Butter...Okay, I can see the merge. It makes sense, especially after the movie Parent Trap. Fess up, you dunked your original Oreos into a jar when you watched, didn't you? I did.
But then it starts getting ridiculous.
Birthday Cake...Eh, sounds a bit like jumping on the ice cream man's bandwagon. But the kid is a fan.
Oh, Berry Burst Icecream? I spoke too soon. Impostor! Marshmallow Crispy? Step off Rice Krispy Treats turf, please. (After all the arm breaking trouble of stirring the mix. we deserve the real thing!)
Two variations we did try: Banana Split and the results were, er, split. Daughter liked, me--Bleech. Not bananas over it.
And Neopolitan. Thought it would be good, but also sickening, Again, hijacking the freezer. Are you a cookie or a mouse? Or maybe a frozen mousse?
And in the summer, Watermelon??
The produce section is right there when you walk in!! just sayin..
Then there's Cookie Dough. Okay, getting back in the right lane. Then this happened. Cookies and Cream. Um, now they're just humoring us. Or perhaps that's what they have been doing all along. But I'm glad Oreo did some soul-searching on that one.
Now we're on a roll... Cinnamon Bun. Probably good but I don't want chocolate slamming down and power wrestling with the taste. Nothing beats a warm spiraling pastry converging into a cinnamon center.
Alright, you got me. We did splurge and buy the Dunkin Donuts Mocha--twice!--Delicioso. But very sweet! Would go great with milk or...coffee. Perhaps they are trying to rally cookies for breakfast? I admire their moxie.
There are a whole slew of surreal fusions I couldn't possibly cover without writing another book. A friend just reminded me about Pop Rocks! I like the retro nod to the eighties, but a snack foaming at the mouth? Or is the effect lost in the cookies and cream?
The other day, our newsroom graphic designer told me there was a Mystery flavor of Fruity Pebbles, which wasn't hard to pull over anyone's eyes.
I admit we haven't tried most of the outrageous concoctions. We only indulge now and then, or when the kiddos wear me down in a weak moment.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Oreos. They're scrumptious. I just appreciate their humble beginnings.
It's actually become a form of supermarket entertainment to see what Nabisco comes up with next. (Anything to make the chore more bearable, right?)
When all is said and done, or when the cookie crumbles, we should stick to our strengths, our roots, our original fillings. Be proud. Isn't it the moral to every story? You're great the way you are, especially a classic who didn't need to change at all.
Are you on board with any of the madcap mashups? Add your favorite to the mix in the comments.
She has a point! How are we supposed to be brave and love who we are, or teach our kids it's okay to be your quirky self if America's Favorite Cookie "wafers" on who they are?
Today's pop culture masquerade was Peeps! Um, hate to break it to you Oreo, but that gig is already taken. And last month-- Hot & Spicy Cinnamon Candies. You know, the Red Hots you used to give out in school For Valentine's day?
For the last five years or so, we've witnessed the integrity of Oreo's OG slipping away. I understand it's marketing, and other flavors can be fun. I'm all for diversity and new experiences. It's how we grow. It's fine to branch out a bit.
First Double Stuff...genius. double yum. Who doesn't want more o' the stuff when our teeth scrape off the cream? Fluff enuf said.
And sure, include the Chocolate Filled and the Golden Oreos. And mix and match those. All good, still sane. And let's be festive with those colorful Holiday creams. And when life hands you ...you know...well, the Lemon ones are tartfully smart.
Peanut Butter...Okay, I can see the merge. It makes sense, especially after the movie Parent Trap. Fess up, you dunked your original Oreos into a jar when you watched, didn't you? I did.
But then it starts getting ridiculous.
Birthday Cake...Eh, sounds a bit like jumping on the ice cream man's bandwagon. But the kid is a fan.
Oh, Berry Burst Icecream? I spoke too soon. Impostor! Marshmallow Crispy? Step off Rice Krispy Treats turf, please. (After all the arm breaking trouble of stirring the mix. we deserve the real thing!)
Two variations we did try: Banana Split and the results were, er, split. Daughter liked, me--Bleech. Not bananas over it.
And Neopolitan. Thought it would be good, but also sickening, Again, hijacking the freezer. Are you a cookie or a mouse? Or maybe a frozen mousse?
And in the summer, Watermelon??
The produce section is right there when you walk in!! just sayin..
Then there's Cookie Dough. Okay, getting back in the right lane. Then this happened. Cookies and Cream. Um, now they're just humoring us. Or perhaps that's what they have been doing all along. But I'm glad Oreo did some soul-searching on that one.
Now we're on a roll... Cinnamon Bun. Probably good but I don't want chocolate slamming down and power wrestling with the taste. Nothing beats a warm spiraling pastry converging into a cinnamon center.
Alright, you got me. We did splurge and buy the Dunkin Donuts Mocha--twice!--Delicioso. But very sweet! Would go great with milk or...coffee. Perhaps they are trying to rally cookies for breakfast? I admire their moxie.
There are a whole slew of surreal fusions I couldn't possibly cover without writing another book. A friend just reminded me about Pop Rocks! I like the retro nod to the eighties, but a snack foaming at the mouth? Or is the effect lost in the cookies and cream?
The other day, our newsroom graphic designer told me there was a Mystery flavor of Fruity Pebbles, which wasn't hard to pull over anyone's eyes.
I admit we haven't tried most of the outrageous concoctions. We only indulge now and then, or when the kiddos wear me down in a weak moment.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate Oreos. They're scrumptious. I just appreciate their humble beginnings.
It's actually become a form of supermarket entertainment to see what Nabisco comes up with next. (Anything to make the chore more bearable, right?)
When all is said and done, or when the cookie crumbles, we should stick to our strengths, our roots, our original fillings. Be proud. Isn't it the moral to every story? You're great the way you are, especially a classic who didn't need to change at all.
Are you on board with any of the madcap mashups? Add your favorite to the mix in the comments.
February 15, 2018
Pitch a Peace Tent
With so much anguish in the world today, it can be daunting to leave the house. Whether we're weathering natural disasters, life's storms or the awful events in the news, we need a lifeline to sanity.
While I'm not a theology or psychology expert, I am a human being who seeks calmness and well-being. If you're looking for the same goodness in life, these peaceful tips from an excerpt from The Pearly Gates Phone Company is just for you!
|23| Pitch a Peace Tent
Anticipating a rough patch? Surround yourself with serenity...
Do you have a difficult person ruffling your feathers? Turn your house into a spiritual retreat!
I stumbled upon this idea last summer when I predicted a trying task ahead. I knew the probability was high that I would hear from a difficult person, this unstable electron hovering on the outer ring of my nucleus. I’m sure we all know someone like that. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the encounter.
Luckily it’s a rare occurrence, but when it springs out of the blue, it unnerves me for days. It’s a complicated scenario or else I’d cut ties completely. It sure would make life easier. But since I can’t just yet, I could ask God for a force field. And so I began strengthening my fort. Think of it as “virtual nesting.”
The first line of defense—pray for them! Even if it doesn’t change the problematic party, it will transform you. It’ll upload patience and empathy so you can look beyond the rough edges. It may seem unfair to justify their actions, but remember, you are the one reaping the reward.
Next, pad your place with positive thoughts. Push drama away. Seek laughter. Dance. Play soothing tunes.
I usually listen to an array of favorite genres from mixed decades, but during this time I let only contemporary Christian music blast from my laptop and car radio. (That’s how I discovered my new favorite band, Sidewalk Prophets!)
If metal is your speed, go for it! Or maybe you prefer classical music, gospel or traditional hymns. New-age instrumental? There’s a reason why there’s an “ah” in spa. Oh hey, you might as well book some “me time” while you’re at it. Any reason is a good reason to pamper yourself. It’s great for the mind and body.
Speaking of which, clear your head with a walk. On the same beat, it’s good for the heart. Or break a sweat by going for a run, swim a few strokes, pedal a bike, stride a treadmill, climb a stepper. Do whatever you can to reinforce the warriors. Enlist endorphins. You know that good feeling after a workout? Those little buggers really pack a punch! They’re nature’s Valium, and God gave them to us for a reason. And they’re free.
Get plenty of Z’s, pop a daily vitamin, eat your fruit and veggies, and drink plenty of water. For a thirst-quenching resort experience, add a couple of cucumber slices!
The purpose of this preparation is to turbo-boost your happy place. Then when life hits a snag, any jabs it takes won’t deplete your reserves.
Now that my tranquility troops were in order, right on cue, I heard from the dreaded person. Writing out responses ahead of time kept me on course. And since my Zen level was set to max, I managed better than before. If people try to hook you into their drama, I’ve found the Polish proverb, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” works wonders! And it’s hilarious.
Whew, now that I survived that, I could enjoy the upcoming college road trip with my daughter Maizie and best friend since 3rd grade, Jill. And to top it off, we were meeting my friend Micki and the boys, who I hadn’t seen in years!
The day before our trip, I took my phone off the charger in the dining room like I did every morning. I was surprised by a text.
“Mom, I need you.”
Usually, these are words empty-nesters love to hear. But my son was heartbroken over a break-up. I wanted a magic wand to make it all better.
After a flurry of texts, phone calls and a lot of convincing, Ian joined us. I could better support him if we were all together, without getting tangled in the taffy-pull of worrying.
After the campus tour, walking around Portland with Micki was like we never skipped a beat. And Noah and Joseph, nearly teens, were a joy as the seven of us squeezed into quaint Captain Sam’s for ice cream.
And what serendipity snapping photos with my grown kids in front of a lighthouse, spending a mini vacation together, “three peas in a pod” again, plus some! I think the change of scenery really helped.
I was glad Ian enjoyed the first half of the weekend, but on our way home, as we stopped at Old Orchard Beach to stroll, play putt-putt and dive hungrily into poutine, he was down in the dumps again. When we got home, he was eager to split to his.
Soaking in the pool later, I realized how drained I was. But it could have been much worse. It’s a good thing I had been accruing all those extra peace points! It was just a different kind of combat than I expected.
While I'm not a theology or psychology expert, I am a human being who seeks calmness and well-being. If you're looking for the same goodness in life, these peaceful tips from an excerpt from The Pearly Gates Phone Company is just for you!
|23| Pitch a Peace Tent
Anticipating a rough patch? Surround yourself with serenity...
Do you have a difficult person ruffling your feathers? Turn your house into a spiritual retreat!
I stumbled upon this idea last summer when I predicted a trying task ahead. I knew the probability was high that I would hear from a difficult person, this unstable electron hovering on the outer ring of my nucleus. I’m sure we all know someone like that. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the encounter.
Luckily it’s a rare occurrence, but when it springs out of the blue, it unnerves me for days. It’s a complicated scenario or else I’d cut ties completely. It sure would make life easier. But since I can’t just yet, I could ask God for a force field. And so I began strengthening my fort. Think of it as “virtual nesting.”
The first line of defense—pray for them! Even if it doesn’t change the problematic party, it will transform you. It’ll upload patience and empathy so you can look beyond the rough edges. It may seem unfair to justify their actions, but remember, you are the one reaping the reward.
Next, pad your place with positive thoughts. Push drama away. Seek laughter. Dance. Play soothing tunes.
I usually listen to an array of favorite genres from mixed decades, but during this time I let only contemporary Christian music blast from my laptop and car radio. (That’s how I discovered my new favorite band, Sidewalk Prophets!)
If metal is your speed, go for it! Or maybe you prefer classical music, gospel or traditional hymns. New-age instrumental? There’s a reason why there’s an “ah” in spa. Oh hey, you might as well book some “me time” while you’re at it. Any reason is a good reason to pamper yourself. It’s great for the mind and body.
Speaking of which, clear your head with a walk. On the same beat, it’s good for the heart. Or break a sweat by going for a run, swim a few strokes, pedal a bike, stride a treadmill, climb a stepper. Do whatever you can to reinforce the warriors. Enlist endorphins. You know that good feeling after a workout? Those little buggers really pack a punch! They’re nature’s Valium, and God gave them to us for a reason. And they’re free.
Get plenty of Z’s, pop a daily vitamin, eat your fruit and veggies, and drink plenty of water. For a thirst-quenching resort experience, add a couple of cucumber slices!
The purpose of this preparation is to turbo-boost your happy place. Then when life hits a snag, any jabs it takes won’t deplete your reserves.
Now that my tranquility troops were in order, right on cue, I heard from the dreaded person. Writing out responses ahead of time kept me on course. And since my Zen level was set to max, I managed better than before. If people try to hook you into their drama, I’ve found the Polish proverb, “Not my circus, not my monkeys,” works wonders! And it’s hilarious.
Whew, now that I survived that, I could enjoy the upcoming college road trip with my daughter Maizie and best friend since 3rd grade, Jill. And to top it off, we were meeting my friend Micki and the boys, who I hadn’t seen in years!
The day before our trip, I took my phone off the charger in the dining room like I did every morning. I was surprised by a text.
“Mom, I need you.”
Usually, these are words empty-nesters love to hear. But my son was heartbroken over a break-up. I wanted a magic wand to make it all better.
After a flurry of texts, phone calls and a lot of convincing, Ian joined us. I could better support him if we were all together, without getting tangled in the taffy-pull of worrying.
After the campus tour, walking around Portland with Micki was like we never skipped a beat. And Noah and Joseph, nearly teens, were a joy as the seven of us squeezed into quaint Captain Sam’s for ice cream.
And what serendipity snapping photos with my grown kids in front of a lighthouse, spending a mini vacation together, “three peas in a pod” again, plus some! I think the change of scenery really helped.
I was glad Ian enjoyed the first half of the weekend, but on our way home, as we stopped at Old Orchard Beach to stroll, play putt-putt and dive hungrily into poutine, he was down in the dumps again. When we got home, he was eager to split to his.
Soaking in the pool later, I realized how drained I was. But it could have been much worse. It’s a good thing I had been accruing all those extra peace points! It was just a different kind of combat than I expected.
February 7, 2018
What If Time Traveling FBI Agents Could Change the Course of Our Government?
Two years ago around this time, a line up of presidential hopefuls shaped debates. I was in creative writing with a projected prompt on the overhead: Mark Rothko's painting "Entrance to Subway 1938."
(Please Google image as the link wouldn't work.)
A red-capped chap descends subway steps. What would he find once there? A briefcase came to mind. A lone bag among the dismal gray underground of rat excrement, rusted tracks, and humid crowding. A mission awaits. A satirical short story and snappy 30s lingo followed. A late night finale contributed to the punchy ending. Lampoon, no hate.
Story appears in the literary journal, A Certain Slant, and as bonus material in early editions of Behind Frenemy Lines. It currently appears in the upcoming collection of speculative fiction.
(Please Google image as the link wouldn't work.)
A red-capped chap descends subway steps. What would he find once there? A briefcase came to mind. A lone bag among the dismal gray underground of rat excrement, rusted tracks, and humid crowding. A mission awaits. A satirical short story and snappy 30s lingo followed. A late night finale contributed to the punchy ending. Lampoon, no hate.
Story appears in the literary journal, A Certain Slant, and as bonus material in early editions of Behind Frenemy Lines. It currently appears in the upcoming collection of speculative fiction.
January 17, 2018
Things That Make You Go Hmm...
Have you ever had an unusual experience that just couldn't be explained?
A job you didn't apply for, pets that saved you from loneliness, wake up calls, comforting dreams and perilous saves in the nick of time.
I've had a few, but the freakiest of all happened in 2002 when my dad called from Heaven! Well, sort of...
The experience left me awed-- and shaking with happiness and tears.
Shortly after, I just had to write about it! Somehow I needed to export this explainable phenomenon and bring it to life. Turned out, it was a very trying task.
I mailed the manuscript to a magazine known for these kinds of things. My hopes were high because it was right up their alley. But nope--it got rejected for being too long and complicated. Rightfully so.
Well, life happened as it's prone to do, and the story was pushed aside. But it was never forgotten. Just a few years ago, in 2013, I felt the urge to try again. Paring down to its bare bones was very satisfying and I added a more animated tone. I sent it off with even better hopes. Ah, rejected again, they didn't want stories about death. At least this time it was accompanied by a personal note and the invitation to send something else. Something different!
Excited, I had just written an empty-nest story about a broken spatula and it was quirky. Sure couldn't get more different than that!
Alas, all this spurred more rejections and more revisions. ( Did you know the word "no" can make us better? )
Another magazine editor almost took it, but they didnt want messages from beyond either. However, he asked if I had any mini-miracle blurbettes. I tried my darnedest and cranked out a few, but they still were not what he was looking for.
Now what? I had quite a compilation accruing. Then a funny thing happened. Several epiphanies lit the way--A snappy title, an amazing story correlation and the idea to publish all these gems myself! And so, that is how an uplifting spiritual collection called, The Pearly Gates Phone Company, came to be.
It is thirty-three anecdotal journeys chronicling little moments of wonder where God said, "Hey, look at this!"
Thanks to friends and family, there are a few big miracles too.
Written in a relaxed style, it is welcoming, not preachy and I hope it inspires everyone who reads it.
To read more samples, or get it FREE in Kindle Unlimited, check it out here:
The Pearly Gates Phone Company
Otherwise the Kindle eBook is just $2.99, and it is also available in paperback.
A job you didn't apply for, pets that saved you from loneliness, wake up calls, comforting dreams and perilous saves in the nick of time.
I've had a few, but the freakiest of all happened in 2002 when my dad called from Heaven! Well, sort of...
The experience left me awed-- and shaking with happiness and tears.
Shortly after, I just had to write about it! Somehow I needed to export this explainable phenomenon and bring it to life. Turned out, it was a very trying task.
I mailed the manuscript to a magazine known for these kinds of things. My hopes were high because it was right up their alley. But nope--it got rejected for being too long and complicated. Rightfully so.
Well, life happened as it's prone to do, and the story was pushed aside. But it was never forgotten. Just a few years ago, in 2013, I felt the urge to try again. Paring down to its bare bones was very satisfying and I added a more animated tone. I sent it off with even better hopes. Ah, rejected again, they didn't want stories about death. At least this time it was accompanied by a personal note and the invitation to send something else. Something different!
Excited, I had just written an empty-nest story about a broken spatula and it was quirky. Sure couldn't get more different than that!
Alas, all this spurred more rejections and more revisions. ( Did you know the word "no" can make us better? )
Another magazine editor almost took it, but they didnt want messages from beyond either. However, he asked if I had any mini-miracle blurbettes. I tried my darnedest and cranked out a few, but they still were not what he was looking for.
Now what? I had quite a compilation accruing. Then a funny thing happened. Several epiphanies lit the way--A snappy title, an amazing story correlation and the idea to publish all these gems myself! And so, that is how an uplifting spiritual collection called, The Pearly Gates Phone Company, came to be.
It is thirty-three anecdotal journeys chronicling little moments of wonder where God said, "Hey, look at this!"
Thanks to friends and family, there are a few big miracles too.
Written in a relaxed style, it is welcoming, not preachy and I hope it inspires everyone who reads it.
To read more samples, or get it FREE in Kindle Unlimited, check it out here:
The Pearly Gates Phone Company
Otherwise the Kindle eBook is just $2.99, and it is also available in paperback.
January 3, 2018
Hijacked by Hobbies
I've been accused recently of letting my writing "hobby" take over my life.
Sorry, not sorry. Well, maybe I do owe an apology to the house for allowing clutter to rise to power. And encouraging dust bunnies to realize their full potential. I'll keep this in mind for my New Year's resolution.
Now that we all pitched in and the house and its occupants can breathe again, I need to get more organized and schedule writing time, reading for reviews and my new endeavor that got me into trouble: Author Takeovers.
These book blasts on Facebook are aptly named because it has really consumed me the past few days. Maybe because I'm new to them and I have been busy making visual aids, games and setting up posts to talk up my books and writing process. Now that I have a few arsenals in place, maybe I can relax a bit. I like to keep things fresh and add something new each time in case the audience of readers, reviewers, and personal assistants duplicate.
Saturday I was on Lana Campbell's Madame Scarlet's Carnival. (Lana writes delicious vampire romances!)
Forever and a Night
Yesterday I was at Karen Lynn's War of Hearts premiere, which ran two days and was chock-full of authors and so addicting! I wanted to keep tabs and play all the games and support other authors. (Okay, I see my husband has a point...)
War of Hearts looks like a good war-within-yourself romance. A War of Hearts
Since the concept of author takeovers was new to me, it might be new to you too, so here's what is it.
An author with a new book release or cover reveal will set up a Facebook event to celebrate and promote. They will schedule it for a length of time, most likely a whole day, then invite other authors to blab about our books. There is usually a giveaway with swag and books via fun games provided by each author.
My next takeover slot is on Friday, Jan 5th at 8:30 pm eastern time at L.M. Mountford's Broken Cover Reveal Party. (Link wouldn't work here but you can do a Facebook search.)
The party starts at 12 noon ET and runs til 11pm.
Feel free to hit "interested" and peruse what all the authors have to offer, It's a great place for writers to network and readers/reviewers to connect with some amazing page turners. But more importantly, come get to know us and support our books!
What good is a hobby if we don't want to spend all our free time there? Like curled up reading an intriguing book or writing one. I want mine to turn into a career or at least a major sidebar.
Sorry, not sorry. Well, maybe I do owe an apology to the house for allowing clutter to rise to power. And encouraging dust bunnies to realize their full potential. I'll keep this in mind for my New Year's resolution.
Now that we all pitched in and the house and its occupants can breathe again, I need to get more organized and schedule writing time, reading for reviews and my new endeavor that got me into trouble: Author Takeovers.
These book blasts on Facebook are aptly named because it has really consumed me the past few days. Maybe because I'm new to them and I have been busy making visual aids, games and setting up posts to talk up my books and writing process. Now that I have a few arsenals in place, maybe I can relax a bit. I like to keep things fresh and add something new each time in case the audience of readers, reviewers, and personal assistants duplicate.
Saturday I was on Lana Campbell's Madame Scarlet's Carnival. (Lana writes delicious vampire romances!)
Forever and a Night
Yesterday I was at Karen Lynn's War of Hearts premiere, which ran two days and was chock-full of authors and so addicting! I wanted to keep tabs and play all the games and support other authors. (Okay, I see my husband has a point...)
War of Hearts looks like a good war-within-yourself romance. A War of Hearts
Since the concept of author takeovers was new to me, it might be new to you too, so here's what is it.
An author with a new book release or cover reveal will set up a Facebook event to celebrate and promote. They will schedule it for a length of time, most likely a whole day, then invite other authors to blab about our books. There is usually a giveaway with swag and books via fun games provided by each author.
My next takeover slot is on Friday, Jan 5th at 8:30 pm eastern time at L.M. Mountford's Broken Cover Reveal Party. (Link wouldn't work here but you can do a Facebook search.)
The party starts at 12 noon ET and runs til 11pm.
Feel free to hit "interested" and peruse what all the authors have to offer, It's a great place for writers to network and readers/reviewers to connect with some amazing page turners. But more importantly, come get to know us and support our books!
What good is a hobby if we don't want to spend all our free time there? Like curled up reading an intriguing book or writing one. I want mine to turn into a career or at least a major sidebar.
December 20, 2017
Hooked by a Book
The Mouse and the Motorcycle by Beverly ClearyMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Before there was Remy from Ratatouille, there was Ralph. Ms. Cleary animated his hotel hijinks through the magic of careening creativity and a toy chopper. She managed to make a rodent likable and I wanted him as a pet. This is the book that invited me into a world where our wonderful words whirled into tales. She hooked me into reading and shortly after, writing.
In 1974, my fourth-grade teacher, Mrs. G would dim the lights and read a chapter to us after lunch. It was my favorite part of the day. Beverly Cleary's uncomplicated style and attention to little details drew me in. It was a relaxing way to digest her words--and our midday meal.
From there, I fell in love with Ms. Cleary's books and devoured them on my own. When Ralph's adventure ended, Mrs. G cracked open Ellen Tibbets, another Beverly Clearly classic. We could sympathize with a child taking ballet and suffering through plie`s and pirouettes in itchy wool underwear. (I think we were all thanking our lucky stars our era sidestepped that fashion necessity!) And to add further aggravation to her discomfort is her friend (or foe?) Henry Huggins, which is the title of Beverly Cleary's first book. Henry spins his own series with "Henry and the Paper Route," and his dog "Ribsy" with best friend Beezus, who has an annoying tag-along sister you may know--Ramona!
The early 50s settings always intrigued me, even as I read them in the 70s/80s. Her teen books, like"Sister of the Bride," "The Luckiest Girl", and "Jean and Johnny," echo the notion of innocence and angst of irritating crushes on the brink of coming of age with the old adage, "Sweet Sixteen and never been kissed."
I was enthralled with "Emily's Runaway Imagination," taking place in the 1920s. The cover as I recall featured a girl in a jumping jalopy. Entering a pie contest in the county fair armed with the best crust, creativity carries Emily into all sort of scrapes.
(Maybe this planted my fascination with the roaring '20s.)
Every summer I revisit my favorite childhood pastime- the library! I check out books from my youth that I used to read over and over again. I've read them to my kids when they were little, too. I think I'm due to drop by much sooner now after thinking about these longtime friends.
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