Maggie Shayne's Blog: Maggie's Coffee House Blog, page 7

Wings in the Night: Death and Rebirth

Wings in the Night has returned to me! After all these years, Harper Collins has agreed to revert rights to the entire series to me legally, and I am celebrating having full ownership of these stories back in my hands again. I appreciate, so deeply and sincerely, those who helped me birth this series and raised it, really, with me. My editors, Melissa Senate and Leslie Wainger and the whole team at Silhouette IM and Shadows, and later at Mira where the series evolved, and on and on ever since.

What this means for readers

Wings in the Night is going into the vault, but only for a little while. The ebook editions published by Harlequin will no longer be on sale and no more will be printed by them. However, copies already in print can still be sold until they are gone. Old, out of print paperback editions will still be on sale at my Paperback Shop throughout this entire transition.

What this means for me

I get to dive back into this series and live inside it again for a little while. Each title will need to be scanned, formatted, and proofread. My daughter Jessica will handle the scanning and formatting, and I'll proof them myself to get any scanner errors before we put them back on sale, which we will be doing as quickly as we possibly can.

But while we are eager, we also want to give them the treatment they deserve. These releases will be special editions, with covers that do them justice. The publishers have always given this series incredible cover art, and we will do no less. We want to have paperback and hardcover editions that are truly collectible. There will be new material included with each release, though we're still in discussions as to what form that will take.

What's staying the same?

These are very sexy stories, and the earliest ones are written in an almost formal style, that just felt like the classic vampire voice to me, and suited the age and culture from which the characters had come. My style relaxed with succeeding books and I think as I developed my own voice.

These stories were part of the birth of the genre of paranormal romance. I don't want to change them. So as I proofread, I'm changing almost nothing. Here and there I find a scanner error, or a typo that slipped past us all the first time. In a couple of the books there are errors in the storyline, like this one spot where Rhiannon meets Roland's eyes in a mirror--that I will have the chance to fix now. It's been bothering me since 1995. And there's a date that's wrong in another one that I would fix. But honestly, aside from that, I'm just proofreading and applying a layer of polish, as I would any of my books right before release.

I want these stories to stay pure. They represent my birth, really, as an author. In 1992, I had written Twilight Phantasies and submitted it to a brand new line, Silhouette Shadows. It was rejected but with a request for revisions. While I did those revisions, I submitted another story, Recklesss Angel, which the publisher bought and published. When the revisions were done a month later, they also bought Twilight Phantasies. So while Reckless Angel was technically my first published novel, in my heart, Twilight Phantasies, which released a month later, was truly my first.

There are titles in this series from every single stage of my career, from the very beginning, to the present day. It's a big part of my life, this series, and I think it will be right up to the end and maybe further.

Wings in the Night is having a death and rebirth

The series will be unavailable in ebook, possibly for a couple of months, with print copies selling until they run out, and out-of-print paperbacks in my shop. The two-woman crew of Jessie and I will give them the royal treatment. Think Dorothy and the gang in the salon at Oz, getting all prettied up to see the Wizard. (And I just realized why I woke with THAT song in my head! Snip snip here, snip snip there and a couple of tra-la-las!)

The re-launch of the series is still in the planning stages, and we'll have more on that soon. I just wanted you to know why the series has gone dark. It won't be for long, I promise.

For right now, if you're a fan of this series, celebrate with me that my baby has come back home to me and will get a brand new level of TLC from here on.

I have other big news brewing, but it's going to have to wait a little bit longer.

Love you all!

Woman On Fire

Something has happened to me that hasn't happened in a long time. A story has taken hold of me and dragged me into its depths. You know, over the past several years, I kind of evolved my method of novel-writing. I developed a story structure grid. I fill white boards with scene ideas, and spend time developing each character, finding images of the actor who would play them, doing extensive background information on them, etc.

But that's not how I used to write. I used to just go with whatever spark of an idea had caught fire in my mind. A man on a table with a sheet over him takes a strangled breath, while the woman in the white lab coat with her back to stiffens in shock, and turns slowly. That's all I had when I started Miranda's Viking.

I might be rambling. I just finished today's scenes, which took me somewhere I didn't know I was going. When I finished, I wanted to spike a football and do a little end zone dance. I'm still kind of tingly with the energy of today's writing session. Let me just say that I have started this book, Something Bloody, Something Blue, at least three times. Each time I had the wrong story, the wrong plot, the wrong crime to solve, despite all my tables and charts and plotting exercises.

But this time, I don't even know what the plot is. It's dragging me along and I'm dying to know what happens next. I did not see what just happened coming. I was as stunned as you will be.

Life is calling me away from the computer. It's spring, after all! I'm going to keep this one short, but I just wanted to let you know how great it's going. When I get a first draft, I'll book the edit and set the release date, but not yet. Not in these precious, early stages. It's too soon to put deadline pressure on it.

I'm so happy to be back in Rachel's world. It's one of my very favorites.

Later!

The PAPERBACK SHOPLots of just-listed, rare, out-of-print paperbacks.I love just browsing through the classic cover art!TAKE $5 WITH CODE "SPRING" AT CHECKOUTShipping is free in the US.

,Contact me for overseas purchases.

When the World Sucks Donkey Balls

I don't know about you, but I feel like we've been lurching from one disaster to another. It's stunning, isn't it? I keep starting the next sentence with a list of all the crap that's happened, but that would be taking this post in the entirely wrong direction. I want to broaden our point of view a little.

Imagine were field mice in a meadow. When we look around our world, we see the blades of grass and wildflowers that surround us. We see a patch of blue sky above. We see any insects that crawl by or fly over.

Our perspective is that of the mouse. We can pretty much only see what's being broadcast to us through our TVs and phones and computers. And because bad news attracts hundreds of times more views and clicks than good news, and since the ultimate goal of all media is being ever more widely consumed, that's what they focus on. So that's the mouse's point of view.

It's important to know what's happening, so we can donate and protest and vote accordingly. But we have to avoid letting it destroy our now. To stay balanced and healthy, we have to focus frequently on the real life in which we live. We have to turn off the noise. We have to get outside. And above all we have to acknowledge how very good things are in our here and in our now. Right here, in our house, in our living room, in our back yard, and as far out as you can extend that. And right here, too, in our minds, in our hearts, in our bodies, in our relationships, in our jobs, in our lives, and as far as we can extend that way too.

Those who understand the metaphysics of how things work know that finding good in each moment is the single most powerful act we can commit toward creating improvement.

But what if we also try to widen our lens a little? What if we take the point of view of an eagle, flying above the mouse's grassy meadow? Think how much further she can see, how much more information she has.

I like to think of the eagle's perspective as being like the point of view of my soul, the part of us that isn't physical. The soul enters our body with our first breath and exits with our last. It does not die. It has always been and will always be. It is consciousness. It's a beam from the one great consciousness many call God.

The soul has access to a far broader and wider range of knowing than our physical mind does.

If we pull back to the perspective of the eagle, we might see that from a broader view, the trajectory of our social development is steadily upward, steadily forward, steadily improving and expanding and evolving, just as it's supposed to do.

The line from hunter-gatherer to modern human is an upward line. Every time we have a big crisis, despite a brief dip, the rebounding upward slant gets sharper. Problems cause solutions. Challenges cause triumphs.

Humans, as a rule, hate and fear change. And yet, life IS change. That's literally true. The act of living exposes us to myriad experiences, all of which we weigh and judge as good or great or bad or horrible, and so on. The bad stuff turns up the heat on the status quo until it becomes unbearable to stand still, and that's when we evolve. We change. We adapt. We grow.

The overall trajectory is upward, always toward improvement, expansion. The upward line on the graph will have jigs and jogs, spikes and dips, but the overall line is ever upward, ever improving, ever wiser.

There is no question that we are living through epic times. Times of great upheaval are times of great change. It's what I keep thinking of as a sea change. Everything is in transition from our financial systems to our energy systems to our climate. We are in transition, too, as a species, I think.

All of this is part of a process that will inevitably work toward the benefit and improvement of the whole, and our society as a whole will evolve to a better place than it was before all this.

But the process of change is not fun. We're living through the hard parts of this massive change. This is a time of exposing ignorance and hate to the light of knowledge and love. You can't change what you can't see, and so it gets bigger until you can't fail to see it.

What we can do

I think it's important that we shine our lights as we navigate our way through this time of great change. How we get through it is up to each of us. We should get as involved as we feel compelled to do in the causes that speak to our hearts. But we must also keep living our best lives, too. We must not fall into despair and we can't keep our attention continuously on what's wrong without getting mired in it. So it's vital that we develop the habit of shifting our thoughts to all that is good in our here and now.

This is the art of presence or mindfulness. Stopping to appreciate what is, right here, right now. Do this over and over throughout your day. Make it a new habit. A way to help it become a habit is to list, mentally or in a journal, ten wonderful things about your experience every night before you sleep.

Dip into the news, and then dip back out again just as quickly. I can fall easily into the habit of keeping it on as "background noise" to my work. I tune it out, but I must still be absorbing it on some level, and it can't help but bring my energy down a bit.

Focus more on the changes that have already come than on those we're still working toward. Society as a whole is more enlightened than it's ever been and in a continual (with brief blips) state of improvement. If you subscribe to the newsletter Future Crunch you get a twice monthly round up of positive changes around the world.

Focus more on the solutions to come than the problems that are inspiring them. Think in terms of the good that has to come in order to move past the problem. Dictators dethroned. True equality. A healthy relationship with the environment. Limitless, renewable energy. And on and on.

Let the problem of the moment serve its purpose and then let it go. A problem's purpose: To inspire us to make the changes we must, in order to solve it.

Meditate. Daily. 15 minutes, quieted mind, focus on the breaths, counting, a dull drone, all of the above, and away from mind chatter. It'll change your life.

Presence. Mindfulness. News dips. Focus shifts. Meditation.

That's how to get through it.

Beam like the shining, divine goddesses you are.

Champion positive change and then become it.

We're going to be okay. Better than okay. We're going to get through this and thrive.

It's a great time to catch up on the Brown and de Luca NovelsBecause the new one is on fire. The Paperback ShopRare, out-of-print Maggie Shayne paperbacks!Many first editions!Titles available in all series.Many multi-author, superstar anthologies!FREE SHIPPING in the US$5 off with code "Spring" at checkoutIt's a blast just browsing through those classic covers!

Idiocy on the Internet?

Why does it seem there is so much idiocy, ignorance, and blatant assholery on the internet?

Well read on, folks. I have the answers. But first, some examples of what I mean.

Action: You post a brand new novel release to 24,000 avid readers.

Reaction: 113 views. 5 likes. 2 shares.

Action: You post a meme about how to find your leprechaun name.

Reaction: 17,849 views, 711 shares, 32 likes.

Does the above scenario sound familiar? Or how about the one below?

Action: You post a story about progress that brings hope for a solution to a global disaster.

Reaction: 63 views, 7 likes, 3 shares.

Action: You post a story about the most horrendous thing you've ever heard of.

Reaction 73,000 views, 1,110 likes, 243 shares.

Why is there so much idiocy on the internet?

Yeah, here's the thing. And I'm afraid this is gonna sting a little.

It's not the internet. It's us.

Here's what I mean. The internet only shows us what we tell it to show us. It does this through algorithms, which a lot of people feel are taking control away from individual users.

But I believe there's a way we can use those mysterious, notorious social media algorithms to our advantage both on the internet and in the real world.

Because, you see, algorithms work exactly the same way real life works. They send us more of whatever we pay attention to.

Posts that piss us off encourage us to react. Every reaction tells the powers that be (in this case, Zuckerberg's AI) to send us more of whatever we reacted to. So if we react with a frown emoji or an angry comment or even a counter-point to the negative post, we are in effect saying, "Please send me more posts like this. I really want to see them. You can tell I really want to see them, because out of all the stuff you've sent me, this is what I reacted to."

Facebook's Built-in Gas Gauge

Many will read this and say, "but I almost never click on nasty stuff. I almost always pay more attention to the positive." But sometimes what we think we're doing, what we would prefer to be doing, isn't what we're actually doing.

Here's an easy way to tell what you're paying attention to online. Look at your newsfeed. See what Facebook is showing you. Every single post in your stream is a reflection of what Facebook thinks you want to see and nobody is telling Facebook what you want to see except for you. So go to your stream and just scroll. Notice how many posts are things you want to see, and how many are not. Then you see where you might want to make some adjustments.

Most of the posts in our feed are based on things we have previously taken action on. Facebook takes note of how long we look at a post and how much of a video we watch. It notices if we tap an emoji to express our feelings about a post -- not WHICH emoji we chose, just THAT we chose one. That tells FB to send me more like this. They notice if we comment, even if our comment is "This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen in my life and I never want to see anything like it again!" The algorithm reads that comment as, "I reacted to this. Send me more."

It's not just Facebook, though.

The entire Internet is conspiring to help us monitor our mindset. I looked at a cute pair of sneakers in a physical store one day, and ads for those very shoes, which I did not even buy, followed me around the net for weeks.

Retailers from Amazon on down offer suggestions of what they think we might like to buy next, based on things we've bought or looked at before.

Even our TV sets gets in on this game of reflecting our own attitude back to us. Most systems nowadays make suggestions as to what we might like to watch next. Look at the things it thinks you'd like. Notice that they are dependent on what you've been watching. My first two suggestions are pretty regularly MSNBC and CNN, but I'm trying to nudge it over toward Planet Earth and old re-runs of Emergency! and Quincy M.E. and I'm making progress. Mostly.

Here's your homework

Give your newsfeed a browse. What do you see? I was just noticing that I must be doing better ignoring the idiotic posts and clicking on the ones I like, because I'm seeing more and more uplifting posts and fewer of the ones that piss me off. My feed this morning had lots of posts with happy animal tales, environmental improvements, vegan recipes, people doing kind things for other people, new book releases, old books on sale, brand new authors releasing their very first story, books being made into movies, etc.

Break the habit of commenting on or reacting to posts that you find upsetting. But that's only half the battle. To truly break a habit, we must overwrite it with a better habit. Otherwise it's never really gone. So make an even stronger effort to like, share, and comment on things you find uplifting, fun, positive. Things that feel good. Things that educate and enlighten. Things that encourage and comfort. Things that bring hope and joy. You'll see a shift in your feed within just a few days.

Now for the great big aha moment of this entire post.

It happens in nature, too

The most amazing part about doing this experiment is that it opens our eyes and makes us more aware of where our heads are at. And it doesn't take long to then realize that it's not just social media where this happens. These algorithms were not invented by Google or Facebook. They were invented by nature. By the Universe. Zuck and the rest of the tech giants aren't creating anything new. They're just imitating life itself.

Life, like Facebook, will always bring us more of whatever has our attention.

The Universe is a mirror. It can only reflect what we are.

And just the same way we can look at our newsfeed and let it show us where our focus needs work, we can look at our lives and see where our attitudes need adjusting.

If everything around us is pissing us off, the problem, dear ones, is entirely within us, and the solution is, too. Stop paying attention to the things that piss us off. Pay more attention to the things that bring us joy.

Doing this will change more than our newsfeed. It will change our lives.

If you enjoyed this post, this is the sort of thing I post regularly over on The Bliss Blog.

BlissBlog.org

A new release and a deep discount! FATAL FAMILY SECRETSAvailable now! FATAL FIXER UPPEROn sale for 99¢

The Day Before

It's the day before release day, and all through the den

The author is trying to reclaim her zen

She soaks in the tub with some oils essential,

She says that the outcome is inconsequential,

What matters, she knows, is the fun she had writing it

Not whether the masses to their shelves are inviting it

Bestseller lists feed only the ego,

And maybe the dogs and the people, but we go

On all the same, be it feast time or famine

And stories keep coming, that's the game that I am in.

Was born to create them and weave them with magic

Will die with more in me to tell, which is tragic

But I'll pass them along to some young yearning scribe

And she'll call me her muse and my stories imbibe

And they'll sell or they won't, and we'll claim not to care

While we livestream the rankings and pull out our hair.

No, seriously, I'm fine.

Mostly.

Here it is, release day Eve for FATAL FAMILY SECRETS!

Order today, and read it tomorrow. I hope you enjoy it. I really am trying to get my zen back, but you know, it's always tense the day before a new one drops. It's like giving birth, in a way.

To celebrate the new release, Book 1, FATAL FIXER UPPER is on sale all week long for just 99¢

Links to both books are on the FATAL page here on the site. Just click the image below to get there. There's also an excerpt from the new one, so don't miss out.

The Fatal SeriesRom-com ghost mysteries with a Scooby gang you'll want to join!

I can't talk about what's next yet. Right now the whole focus is on sending this one off into the world with love. I truly hope it spreads joy and provides some relief, escape, and pleasure to all who read it. It comes straight from my heart.

Blessed be, little book.

FATAL FAMILY SECRETS

An Exclusive ExcerptCopyright 2022 by Maggie Shayne LewisAll rights reserved. No copying of any kind is permitted.CHAPTER ONE

Chapter One

Johnny cursed My Cousin Vinny and slammed the steering wheel for the twelfth time. So far the steering wheel was winning.

“Maybe I should drive,” Chris said. “Woman trouble?”

Johnny looked sideways at Chris, who was helping him move his stuff from his grandfather’s village rental to Jack’s cabin. “Not anymore, I guess.”

“Oh, man. You and Maya broke up? Dude, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“You uh…want to talk about it, or…?”

Johnny shook his head. “No point.” The light changed and he drove on.

“This truck is dope,” Chris said in a transparent effort to change the subject. “I can’t believe how quiet it is.”

“It took some getting used to it being electric.”

“What did it cost, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Damned if I know. It was a gift.”

Chris was waiting for further explanation. Yeah, Johnny had been pretty tight-lipped about his private life, and he knew everybody was curious. “From my wealthy, white mom and stepdad.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” Chris said. “So then your grandfather…?”

“I tracked him down last fall. Came here to get to know him, stayed with him for a month, and all of the sudden, he up and leaves without a word.”

“That’s weird. It was weird for all of us, him just leaving like he did.”

“None of you know why, either?”

“Nope. We figured you knew and it was none of our business.”

“Said he was going to Florida to spend time with old friends and he’d be back when he was ready.”

“You have an address?”

“Yes, and cell phone number, but he hasn’t answered a call or text three days.” Johnny turned a corner, and drove away from the village, over a narrow, winding road with no painted lines and little intact pavement. “I’m getting worried, to be honest.”

“You were probably hoping he’d teach you about your heritage and stuff.”

“I was.”

There was an extended silence and then Chris said, “People probably take one look at you and assume you know how to dance up rainstorms and talk to animals.”

“That what you thought, Chris?”

“It’s what I hoped,” Chris said. “Is that racist? I hope it’s not racist. I just meant… Come on, you gotta admit, it would’ve been cool.”

Johnny attempted to give him a stern glare, but he couldn’t keep the laugh inside. Chris elbowed Johnny in the ribs and started laughing, too, and then a person ran in front of the truck and THUD. He felt the impact, slammed the brakes, and saw the person lurch and tumble toward the ditch, all in the space of a second.

The truck had skidded sideways. They both dove out and ran toward the ditch. Johnny’s heart was in his throat. In the ditch, a skinny teenager pushed his long, dark bangs off his face. His eyes were brown. There was dirt smeared on his forehead.

“Are you okay?” “Are you hurt?” They asked at the same time, and Johnny reached out to clasp the kid’s hand and help him up.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I think.” He brushed at his clothes and stepped out of the ditch onto the shoulder of the country road, looking around them as if he expected to see someone else.

Johnny looked around, too. The paved part of the road had ended a half mile back. This part was dirt and gravel. Every spring the town road crews dumped fresh gravel on top, and every fall it was mostly all ground in or gathered along the shoulders as a blatant challenge to joggers and cyclists.

The kid had come tearing out of the woods off to the left. The right side of the road was a wide patch of brown, muddy meadow that Chris said would be thick with grass and wildflowers once spring took hold. As of now they were stuck in the in-between. Snow melting. Temps warming. Mud everywhere.

“I’m sorry, man,” Johnny said. “I didn’t see you.”

“It was my fault. I ran out in front of you.” The kid turned to glance behind him.

“Why do I get the feeling somebody was chasing you?” Chris asked, following the kid’s gaze and taking the same visual tour Johnny just had, but from the perspective of someone who knew the area better than he did.

“You see anybody chasing me?”

“Ah, the sarcasm of sixteen.”

“Seventeen,” the kid said.

Chris shrugged. “So why were you running then?”

“You ever hear of cross-country?”

Chris looked at Johnny. Johnny looked at the kid’s shoes - hiking boots. He wore them with jeans and a winter coat. Not exactly running gear. “Isn’t the high school just the other side of that woodlot? That where you’re coming from?”

“Yeah and I have to get back.” He started to turn away, but Johnny felt an irresistible urge not to let him leave just yet. Something was wrong.

“Don’t run off. My pal Chris just has a curious mind. I’m Johnny."

“Ryan.” He pushed his hair again. He had one of those long side bangs that guys his age were constantly pushing out of their eyes.

“Can we give you a ride somewhere, Ryan?” Johnny nodded at the truck, sitting kind of cockeyed in the road.

“Looks like you’re already on your way to somewhere.” Ryan nodded at the load of furniture and boxes in the pickup’s bed.

“I’m moving into my new place,” Johnny said. It was odd how it felt like a lie to call it his place. It was Jack’s place, but Jack was currently co-habiting with Kiley over at Spook Central, so Johnny had agreed to rent his isolated log cabin. “It’s only about a mile from here, actually.”

Ryan nodded slowly, then said, “I’ll take a ride, yeah, but I’ll help you unload first. If you want.”

“Shoot, are you sure you weren’t dropped in front of us by the Moving Fairy?” Chris asked, grinning ear to ear. “Hop in.”

Ryan hopped in, taking the truck’s back seat. As he pulled into motion, Johnny saw him looking behind them. He glanced sideways and saw Chris noticing it, too. No way somebody wasn’t chasing the kid. Johnny felt heat rising up the back of his neck. He knew about bullies. He’d dealt with his share of them, having been the only native kid in his mostly white private school. Somebody was bullying this kid, and he decided then and there to find out who, and help put an end to it.

***

Kiley stood on the front porch of her gorgeous, hundred-and-thirty-year-old Victorian house, manhandling a long-handled paint roller back and forth over the porch ceiling. The entire house needed painting. All of it, from the witch’s hat turrets to the sunburst high peak panels to the turned posts and spindles. All of that was on the schedule for actual spring, not this crazy, windy, precursor known as March. But the porch, Maya had insisted, could not wait.

Because ghosts.

Maya was manning another long handled roller a few feet away. She said, “Careful not to let it–“ just as a glob of paint dropped right onto Kiley’s upturned face, splatting across her nose. “–drip on your head,” Maya finished.

Kiley lowered her roller to the nearby tray, leaned the handle against the wall, and pulled a ratty old dish towel from her farmer jeans’ back pocket to wipe the pale blue-going-on-gray paint away.

“I’d think you were pulling a Tom Sawyer trick on me, if it wasn’t my own house we were painting.”

“Oh, it’s a trick, all right,” Maya said. “Just not on you.”

“I get the silver coins and old iron nails hidden near every door and window, since ghosts allegedly hate silver and iron. And I get the bottle tree…” Kiley trailed off, because the breeze came up almost as if answering her summons, and the bottles of every shape, size and color dangling from the elm tree on the front lawn, began to clink and clatter. The sound magical. She kind of loved the bottle tree.

“It traps and confuses malevolent spirits, you said.”

“I figured we’d try everything.” Maya finished the final stroke and lowered her roller into an empty bucket.

“Including this pale blue paint on the porch floor and ceiling,” Kiley said.

“Not just blue. Haint blue.”

“Haint blue?” Kiley arched one eyebrow. “The hell it haint.” Then she slapped her thigh and laughed at her own joke.

Maya laughed but not enough. “The lore says ghosts can’t cross water. Haint blue is supposed to look like water so they don’t come in.”

Kiley looked up at the porch ceiling. Then she looked at Maya again. “I have never seen water that color.”

“The circle I cast will be the part that counts, with wards at the four directions and elementals keeping watch.”

“Elementals.”

“Be doubtful all you want. When I finish, not one ghost is ever going to set foot in your house again.”

Someone laughed from inside. A female someone. Kiley frowned and looked at the closed door. “Who was that? Is the TV on?”

“Who was what?” Maya asked. She unscrewed the extra long handle from the paint roller and picked up the bucket with the used rollers inside.

Kiley grabbed the paint and the tray and the rest, and they carried the mess around to the side of the house where there was an outside spigot. The ground was still cold and hard, but would soften to sticky later in the day. Most of the snow had melted except for a patch here and there, and the powdered sugar sprinkled on by the night before.

Maya picked up a roller and began rinsing the Haint Blue away under the faucet, over a bucket.

“So what’s up with you and Johnny?” Kiley asked. She’d been dying to ask, and now she was asking. For a while there it had seemed like they were … not together, but maybe pre-together. But the past couple of days, things between them had seemed colder than the water coming out of that spigot.

Maya didn’t look up from her task, her hands apparently immune to the chill. “Nothing’s up with me and Johnny.”

“Why not? What happened?”

Maya finished rinsing her roller and tray, and made way for Kiley, who began rinsing her own. She said, “He was talking about hunting. How torn he feels about it, because he knows it’s part of his heritage, and really how his ancestors survived, and yet he doesn’t think he could do it himself.”

“So you’re breaking up with him because you don’t eat meat and he’s of two minds about hunting? Maybe he just wanted your opinion as a vegan, did you think of that?”

And since when, Kiley wondered, had she become such a Jaya stan? Didn’t matter, she was. Johnny and Maya - Jaya just felt right somehow, ages be damned.

“No. It wasn’t that. Actually, looking back I think he wanted my opinion on all of it. But you know, it was the perfect opening, so I had to reply, “Imagine you’re a deer.” Only she pronounced it “dee-yuh” in perfect Marissa Tomei. “You’re prancin’ along, you get thirsty, you spot a little brook, and you put your little deer-lips down to the cool, clear water… BAM! A fuckin’ bullet rips off part of your head!”

By the time she finished, Kiley was laughing so hard she splashed paint-tinted water on her bibs. “That was dead on.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Only he didn’t get the reference.”

Kiley turned off the spigot, her brain trying to catch up. “Well, not everybody’s seen My Cousin Vinny.”

“He didn’t get the reference because he wasn’t born yet.”

“Oh.” Kiley frowned. “Of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to be worried about an age difference.”

“A twenty-year age difference.”

“Twenty-one.” Kiley bit her lip too late to keep the comment from spilling out, and fully deserved the death glare Maya sent her.

“You’ve been doing the math in your head. Everyone probably has,” Maya said. “Doesn’t matter. It was great for my ego, but it was never going anywhere.”

“So…you broke up with him?”

“We were never even… Why is this your business?” Kiley shrugged and shut off the spigot. “I don’t know, but it feels like it is.”

“Well, unless you want me asking you what Jack likes in bed, knock it off.”

“Reverse cowgirl.” Kiley picked up the pail full of freshly washed rollers, turned and pointed, “But not until near the end, because it tends to speed things up.”

“OmyGod please stop!” Maya held up both hands.

Kiley just winked and opened the hatchway to carry the tools down to the basement. She only went as far as the bottom of the stairs, set the bucket there, and leaned the extra long roller handles against the concrete wall. She gave a quick look deeper into the basement, then backed up the stairs and closed the hatch.

“Still creeps you out, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. Jack wants to finish it and light up the space. Make it a game room or something. But I’ll never feel comfortable no matter what he does.”

“I don’t know if I would, either. A lot of women died down there. But at least we were able to help them find peace and cross over.”

“And in the process made this place the most popular way station between heaven and hell.” Kiley rubbed her hands down the backs of her jeans as they went around front again and headed inside. “I really love that bottle tree,” she said, when a breeze caused the bottles to jingle and clink again, just before she closed the front door.

“I love it, too,” Maya said.

Kiley went straight into the living room and had the remote in her hand before she noticed the black screen. “The TV isn’t on. Then what did I hear before?”

“Well, what did you think you heard?” Maya asked.

“I thought…it sounded like a woman laughing.”

Maya frowned at her, then got that focused look of someone listening hard.

She looked out the window and saw a group of middle school kids walking a dozen yards away, on the opposite side of the road. Maybe not the first group to pass by. Maybe she’d just heard some kids walking home from school. Maybe when she could afford to paint more than just the porch they wouldn’t give the place such a wide berth.

No, they still would. The cops had been digging up bodies for a week, not that long ago, after all. Hell if she didn’t own it, she’d probably give the place a wide berth herself.

“You don’t think it was another…?” Maya let her voice trail off, her meaning clear.

“A ghost? No way. I’m a muggle. You, Jack and Johnny are the woo-woo crew.”

“Woo-woo crew, huh? I like it. We should have t-shirts made. Spook Central Woo-Woo Crew.”

Kiley rolled her eyes, glanced at the street again, and didn’t hoped to God one of those kids or their cohorts had a laugh that sounded like a middled-aged chain smoker with a whiskey chaser. But she doubted it.

Plant-based "Egg-Salad" Sandwich

I know what you're thinking. I was skeptical too. But you wouldn't know the difference, I swear! It took over a year of living plant-based to even try this idea. It just looked impossible. But as often happens when I have ruled something out, one of my daughters presented an opposing opinion. The firstborn said this was so good she couldn't even believe it. So I gave it a try, and it's AMAZING.

Ingredients 1 can chick peas, also known as garbanzo beans, drained and rinsed. 1/4 cup vegan mayonnaise such as Helman's 1-2 teaspoons of yellow mustard 1/2 a medium tomato, chopped into 1/2" or bits, solid parts only 1-2 tablespoons of finely diced red onion 1 small stalk of celery, finely diced 3 pinches of ground dill weed A shake of onion powder A shake of pepper A handful of mixed salad greens Two slices of whole wheat bread

First, drain and rinse the beans.

Next, you need to mash them. I do this in single layers on a dinner plate with a potato masher. This leaves the texture coarse, so it's much better.

Scrape the mashed beans into a small bowl. Add all the onion, celery, mayo, and mustard. Stir until well mixed. Add the seasonings just a little bit at a time and taste after each. Especially the dill. You want to just taste it, not let it take over the dish. Save the sale for last and you might find you don't even need it, especially if your beans were not low-sodium.

TASTE. Can you taste the onion enough? Add some onion powder and stir and taste again.

Can you tase the celery? If not, add some celery seed, or celery salt if salt is also needed. Stir and taste again. Add a little more mustard if you're not getting enough that flavor. Resist adding any more of the mayo as that's the only less than healthy part of this meal.

Add the tomato pieces last and stir just enough to mix them in.

Toast the bread.

Rinse the spring greens and pat dry.

Lay the greens on the bread. Top with the Chick Pea Salad and a second slice, and voila!

Options

To make this recipe even easier, you can mash the beans in a blender (but then you have the blender to clean) If you don't feel like chopping up onion and celery, just use onion powder and ground celery seed. Another way to speed up the veggie chopping is to wash them, then just grate on a cheese grater until you have enough.

Save the leftovers! This is great for spreading on *Ritz crackers, or scooping with *Fritos or *Doritos!

*Original Ritz, Original Fritos, Fritos Scoops, and Doritos Sweet Spicy Chili are all animal-product free.

Creating Through Crises

First this:

Crisis: "CRY-sis" A devastating or terrible event.

Crises: "CRY-sees" The plural of crisis.

FIRST: Give. Spread Awareness. Stay informed. And yet, somehow, frequently and for extended periods, withdraw attention from the problem and imagine brightly the solution.

Why this post?

A series of cascading crises one can cause creative blocks that are difficult to overcome. Some creators never come back. Maybe some of this post will help you to try. The topic here applies to everyone. We are all creating, all of the time. We are, at our souls, creators.

Some background...

After 9/11/2001

I had a hard time writing. I remember that most of my colleagues did, too. We wondered how our stories even mattered, given the great big horrible thing that had just happened to our world. I barely wrote at all, but only for a few weeks. I don't think many of us wrote during that period. We were glued to the TV. 24-hour CNN was already a thing, so there was plenty to keep us there.

During 2005

My mother journeyed through pancreatic cancer. She was diagnosed at the end of '04 and she passed at the beginning of '06, a 14-month period of awful. During that time, I did not stop writing. I wrote straight through it because of an existing deadline and a persistent delusion that I was super-human. My editors kept asking if I needed more time, but I said no, and kept on going. The book I turned in made them wonder who the hell had written it. It was flat. It had no emotion. it was a police report of what happened when with no heart, no drama, no angst, no passion to it. There was sex. Just no emotion.

I had to trash the whole book and start from scratch, and by the time I felt able to do that, I had gained a bit more perspective. I think I had shut down my emotions just to get through that period, and I couldn't turn them back on, even in my fiction.

But let's get down to actionable steps you can take to get your mojo back.you can take to get your mojo bac.you can take to get your mojo ba.you can take to get your mojo b.you can take to get your mojo .you can take to get your mojo.you can take to get your moj.you can take to get your moo.you can take to get your mo.you can take to get your m.you can take to get your .you can take to get your.you can take to get you.you can take to get yo.you can take to get y.you can take to get .you can take to get.you can take to ge.you can take to g.you can take to .you can take to.you can take t.you can take .you can take.you can tak.you can ta.you can t.you can .you can.you ca.you c.you .you.yo.y..p for the better part of a year and produced very little in 2021. This time it was fear for my daughters, three of them nurses, the other two teachers, risking their lives every day. And admittedly, I spent much of that time purely furious with my fellow humans. That's the furthest thing from aligned with the Source of all Story. That's a self-made block. No flow of fiction t you can take to get yourjo back. Besides, I couldn't write anything scarier or more dramatic than what I was experiencing.

All the above is a long way of saying, I've been through this a few times, and I keep finding my way back to good.

Now there's Ukraine

This time I think I've got it.

I'm still creating...

After a few rounds of this, and having only just regained my mojo from the mother of all writers' blocks, I have somehow not hit another one.

I'm just as riveted and concerned as I've ever been. I hate that people are suffering. I love that the world has come together to help. I love that many countries are trying to assist, but I hate that some of the ones assisting are also currently occupying other territories at the same time. I love that all of this is bringing our world's biases into sharper, clearer focus. I also love that everyone seems to have stopped fighting over masks and vaccines now that it's very clear what an attack on freedom actually looks like.

Searching for the silver lining is one way to keep from getting sucked into despair and losing our creativity. I think about where all of this turmoil might be leading.

Short term--Putin's reign ends, Ukraine prevails and starts to rebuild, and the western world is more united than it's been since the end of WWII.

Middle term--Seeing citizens so much more connected, informed and empowered, China takes a much more liberal approach to Hong Kong and Taiwan.

Long term--Strong men dictatorships go extinct.

Forevermore--New heroes and heroic stories are born and shared, and these stories, like all stories, take on lives of their own and become important influences on our cultural evolution.

This turmoil is creating more empathy, more unity, more harmony. Maybe it feels odd to think something as unharmonious as war can actually create harmony. But think about how a pendulum swings. Think about "every action has an equal and opposite reaction." The very purpose of difficult times is to drive humanity to make the changes necessary to eradicate the problem by replacing it with the solution.

But let's get down to actionable steps you can take to break your blocks.

Beating the Blocks

Here are all the things I have done to help myself through creative blocks caused by external events and how they have worked.

Give myself permission to take time off.This has worked for me for two of my blocks. One time I took 3 months off to enjoy the summer and was able to come back in the fall at about half my former pace and passion. In hindsight, I think I came back too soon.The most recent block, I took almost a year off, and I think that was too long. When I finally forced myself to begin again, (because waiting for it to return on its own was taking way too long,) it came flowing back, and I think it might have done so a bit sooner. Result: Permission to take down-time is good for me. But I must try to come back periodically, and to give it a real try when I do. Write every day for a week. If the flow returns, I'm ready. If it doesn't, I might need a little more down time. Create something entirely different.During one block, I repainted all my garden gnomes. During all my blocks, I have continued writing blog posts and articles and newsletters and recipes. I've built websites and made videos and designed graphics. Creating something, anything, is good for the soul, and I think it keeps the creative energy flowing. So paint or sculpt or sing or anything during your break from your usual creative outlet.Redecorate a room. Do major hoe-outs. Re-arrange the furniture. Change your style, clothing, hair, makeup. Try things you've never done before. WRITE things you've never written before. Start a story in any genre you've never ever attempted. A cozy mystery. A dystopian thriller. A cowboy western. A memoire. Take Media BreaksIt's kind of hard to look away from the news for very long at the moment. During normal times, I can take days off news, or weekends off news, etc, and in "normal times" I watch a little in the morning and evening and it's plenty. During times like these, I can at least turn it off at regular intervals. Get up to speed, and literally turn it off in between. I am notorious for using the news as background noise while I'm working, but I think the work suffers when I do that. I have to remind myself constantly that I am seeing the same stories over and over again, the very worst stories they could dig up, because that keeps us glued to the screen. The worst the news, the better the ratings. Sometimes the only way I can do it is to put on something I can binge that I don't care too much about. Just pick a series, start it up, and let it go. Then as I fall into story, I lower the volume, a little more, a little more, my hand working on auto-pilot. I'm not even aware I'm turning it down, and pretty soon, I'm fully immersed whatever it is I'm creating, and the TV is muted or merely a soft drone. Nurture your muse by feeding her what she loves - great stories. Read fiction, watch fiction, listen to fiction, re-read your very favorite books. When the flow of story flows through you in one direction, the reverse flow is automatically activated. Great storytelling begets great storytelling. When I try to write again, I make sure to ONLY attempt it when I am feeling really good. When I'm upbeat, positive, relaxed, aligned, and happy. I bring my energy into my book, so if I write while feeling blocked, defeated, depressed, frustrated, or angry, the book is getting all that, and nothing from the muse. I promise my readers this: Even when I'm torturing your favorite character, I am in a really good mood! Detox. Everything is connected, so to remove blocks, you might want to look at any physical blocks too. Processed foods, chemicals. Take a week or two to try a natural diet of fruits, vegetables, legumes, whole grains and lots and lots of water. Leave off the processed foods, the meat and dairy, the soda, the alcohol. You'll have to actually cook. It's easy, I promise. The crock pot is your friend, and you can make enough for a week at a time. Do a ten-day cleanse in this way and you will not believe how good you'll feel. Your body will feel lighter, your mind will feel fresh and crisp and clear, and your energy will be higher than it's been in years. I guarantee it. (I need to do a post just on this.) Meditate. When I quiet my mind in silent meditation, it opens the flow between my here-and-now-self and my non-physical self, which is much broader and has a wider perspective, plus access to all existence. Story flows purely when the connection to one's non-physical Source Energy is strong and clear of blocks or static. Meditation is tuning into the signal of Source Energy, by any name.So my daily (mostly) meditation practice is to turn off all the noise, get comfy, set a timer for 15 or 20 minutes, launch a white noise app, and count my breaths. OR I use the "Mostly Meditation" music from Abraham-Hicks' "Getting into the Vortex Guided Meditations." It's only on the downloadable version. Here's a link. I like the meditation because the music itself is the breathe-in, breathe-out cue, and there's only about 30 seconds of spoken guidance at the beginning and end. I could never meditate until I tried it with this recording, so it's my go-to favorite.

So those are my tips for getting our creative grooves back during this difficult time, or any difficult time. And remember, the harder the problem, the bigger and better the solution that's waiting on the other side.

PS: You'll be getting a newsletter with book news soon. Watch your ema

Ghostbusters: Afterlife - A Review

I love storytelling and I love great stories in every form. So from time to time I post reviews of stories I love, be they TV series, movies, or books. So let's go!

Hubs and I started my birthday weekend by streaming Ghostbusters: Afterlife, which we'd both been anticipating, being huge fans of the franchise. We hoped to love this film, and we were not disappointed. How did we love it? Let us count the ways. The entire movie was one big kiss to Harold Ramis. And in a way, he was one of the main characters.

The Score

The filmmakers were brilliant in using the original film's musical score for most of the movie. You know, the slightly funny background music we hear while the characters are sneaking around the place?

Here's a sample of what I mean. Just turn up the volume and click play. It's 30 seconds and you'll get it immediately.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/ee4f31_e40c32a1e0f848d3b324b5f9676157a9/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

Throughout Ghostbusters: Afterlife, the original score is used, far more than just this small piece here. It's familiar, and it puts us right back into that world. Music is such a powerful tool

The Props

The GB overalls and all the personal touches I won't spoil here, just made me feel so happy.. Easter eggs are everywhere you look in this film. I'll let you find them on your own, mostly, but the proton packs and the PKE meter were perfect. And there's another big relic from the original film (and lots of small ones) that you're going to love seeing again that I won't mention. Using the same major props was brilliant. This was done effectively in Jurassic World, too, and it works wonders. Great tip for sequel makers to keep in mind.

The Effects

The special effects team might've been tempted to update all the ghost scenes with the newest technology, but they resisted. When they turn on those proton packs, we hear that familiar sound of them powering up. When they blast ghosts, the same red and yellow energy bolts rip from their blasters with the exact same sounds we're used to.

The Cast

Mckenna Grace as Phoebe, Igon Spengler's granddaughter, stole the film. She was the lead, and if anyone says otherwise, they lie. This was her movie. She was amazing. When I saw her headshot online I didn't think she was the same actress. Everything about her was an homage to Harold Ramis. The hair and glasses, sure. But more, it was her mannerisms, her personality, her walk, even.

Paul Rudd had a challenge, I think, trying to find a way to relate is role to the original. He was romantically interested in Callie, played by Carrie Coon. (Phoebe's mom, Igon's daughter, and eventually, the Gate Keeper of Gozer.) That would have suggested his was a Bill Murray/Peter Venkman type part, but he wasn't at all Peter-like. He was almost comic relief, and at times he seemed to be channeling Rick Moranis's Louis Tully. But it worked.

Logan Kim played "Podcast," young Phoebe's first and only friend in a new town, not to mention fellow nerd, podcaster, and loyal sidekick. He was clearly the Ray character, right down to his haircut, and he did it so well.

I'm convinced Logan and McKenna watched the old films to get their roles right.

Carrie Coon did a great job as the mom. She didn't try to be the new Dana, and like Rudd, didn't really have a counterpart from the original on which to model her part. Which is fine. Not everyone has to be like someone in the old film. It just felt to me like the mom character didn't really need to be there. (Which I guess is true of most films that feature kids as the protagonists-the adults have to fade into the background.)

As for Finn Wolfhard, the Stranger Things star who played Phoebe's older brother Trevor, he was excellent. I just wish the writers had given him a bit more to play with.

The Writing

I'm of two minds about the writing. I am always most critical of writing in any project. I am known to critique the text on cereal boxes. First, I loved the story in the way it honored the original film, paid homage to Igon Spengler, and even tied in elements from the plot of the very first movie. All of that was a tall order, and they did it in a beautiful way that made sense, which is hard to do. I mean, we had to bring back Gozer the Gozarian and it had to track with the canon laid out in the earlier films.

But...I don't know, the plot itself just wasn't great, and I think that's due to one major thing. There wasn't enough at stake. Ghosts running rampant in the middle of the desert in Oklahoma, where there are only a handful of buildings and a smattering of residents, just doesn't feel as dangerous as ghosts running rampant through New York City, crushing churches and police cars.

I know, we're supposed to believe the world will end if the ghosts win, but we don't get to see the destruction firsthand. We don't get to that breathless, OMG moment of certain doom. Well, we do, but it's on a far smaller scale.

On the other hand, maybe a bigger plot would have overshadowed the nostalgia, the love for Ramis and the homage to the early films. Maybe that's why they kept the ghost vs. humanity part of the story rather toned down.

The Ending

Oh, the ending. I'm not even going there except to say I got tears and kept whispering, "How the hell did they do that?"

Not only was the ending perfect, but – drum roll, please – they left it open for a sequel! Cymbal smash!

Also, special note, there are TWO after-credit scenes. One after the initial credits, and then another one after the endless stream of every person who set foot on or near the set while it was being made, including the guy who cut the tree that made the paper on which they printed the scripts, I think.

BOTH after-credit scenes were well worth the wait. Do not miss them.

Where to Watch

Buy for $19.99 or rent for $5.99

We rented it and should have bought it.

These are affiliate links

WRITERSDid you know I based my plotting and story structure seminar on the major turning points in the original 1984 film, Ghostbusters? Go to the home page and scroll down for more info.

Autumnal Chillers | Wings in the Night

  It's autumn, and therefore time for thrillers and chillers. Obviously the first series I want to talk about as Fall rolls in, is Wings in the Night, one of the first vampire romance series ever published. Chelsea Quinn Yarbro was writing The St. Germain series (25 titles) and Anne Rice her Vampire Chronicles (14 titles) at […]

The post Autumnal Chillers | Wings in the Night appeared first on Maggie Shayne.