Elyse Salpeter's Blog, page 22

Final Thoughts on Hurricane Sandy

This will probably be my last post on Hurricane Sandy. Not that I think the repercussions of it are over, but I’ve been thinking about this experience so much and I’m ready to move on. I posted these thoughts on my Facebook page telling people that from this experience I learned a few important things. “There really are more good people in the world than bad, my family is stronger than we thought we were, we can live without the internet, boxed milk really does come in handy, and I need to re-evaluate my priorities of who should and shouldn’t be in my life.”

This last one was a biggie because the outpouring of support I received from people around the country and around the world was simply amazing. My family and I had never experienced something like this before, of this magnitude, and we consider ourselves extremely lucky we were healthy, our house was intact and even though we went 12 days without power, I was able to assure my children that this situation would end soon and things would go back to normal.

I’ve developed a pretty big social media platform and so many people reached out to me and my family with phone calls, likes, posts, comments and simply kind words. Some were virtual strangers just letting us know we were in their thoughts. Some were family members who opened their homes to us. Friends who let us crash at their house for an entire afternoon and fed us. An awesome Aunt in Florida who was ready to pack up her car with supplies and come get us. People shared my blog and posts, they left cords of wood anonymously on my front porch (I still don’t know who did this), and they simply reached out. You learn there are people who care and then there are people who don’t. And trust me, some really don’t. They have excuses of why they didn’t call, they have blame, they have anger, but at the end of the day we all are accountable to our actions and I’m now at peace with it. I can’t remain hurt for those that never once reached out, because it is beyond my control, so I’m going to move on. From the situation and from them. Obviously my family is not a priority of any sort to these people, and probably never were, and my fretting and stressing about it is unnecessary. My husband and I heard a great saying once which we love. “Don’t let that person rent space in your head.”

So next week I will be back to blogging about my books, conducting author interviews and other musings on my life. Maybe it will be bootcamp, maybe work, maybe cooking. Till then, consider my head rent-free! Peace

12 Days for the Power to Return – But is Life Back to Normal?

I was about to create a new post on ”Night #12 No Power,” when thankfully the power came back on. On top of no electricity or heat, we had just been hit with a Nor’easter, dumping inches of snow back on the ground and so the kids had a two hour delay before they could go to school. I trekked into NYC to get to work and my husband stayed home, preparing to sit in the cold and wait hours in line for gas, since he now had the time.  After getting both kids to school, he came home and started shoveling the snow on our walkway when a man in a car came by and said “go in your house.” My husband looked at him warily and asked, “is everything ok?” The man smiled and said “go turn on your lights.” There had been some LIPA trucks on our block that morning, but he didn’t have any trust it meant much. My husband ran into the house and flicked the switch. I could barely understand him on the phone when he called me seconds later to tell me because he was so excited.

Since he’s not the kind of guy to just sit still, he actually filled my car with gas and then spent the day cleaning the house so when I came in that evening it would feel like home. He brought all the mattresses we had dragged in front of the fireplace back upstairs and made all the beds. He put things away we had simply dumped on the floor because we couldn’t see at night. He cleaned up all the wood chips scattered across the floor from the logs we had dragged in. He vacuumed the entire house. And, even though I asked him if the house was getting warmer, I found out later he had lied to me saying “not yet, but it’s coming on now.” Apparently a part on our boiler busted and he called the plumber while I was at work and somehow had someone come right in and fix it. He told me later, “you coming home and not having heat was not an option.” He picked me up from the train, we went to my sister-in-law in another town, grabbed all our things as we had stayed there the previous few nights, and came home. I walked through the door and welled up. To say he was my hero does not give him the credit he deserves.

So now you’d expect everything to go back to normal, right? The kids came home from school and immediately the television went on, wii games were played, the computer went on and they glued themselves to every piece of technology they had been missing. The house slowly warmed up and we put a container of milk in the fridge.

It’s now the next morning and the kids are doing what they usually do on a Saturday, watching TV and playing on the computer. My husband bought bagels and made coffee. It’s beautiful outside, warming up finally and I’m on my computer. But I’m finding I’m aimless. I’m nervous and scared and unsure, worried about the lights staying on. I’m worried for our friends on Long Island, those in my very town who have spent another cold night without heat. I’m worried for our infrastructure. It’s only November and the idea of a winter of this uncertainty is intolerable. I’m worried about how this is going to affect my children the next time my lights flicker. My daughter seems to be okay, back to ordering her brother around and my son, who has asperger’s, will slowly get back to his routine. These past 12 days were tough on him, but he seems happy this morning and “giving it right back to his sister.” So, things are slowly coming back to normal. Except I guess my bar for normal has been set pretty low right now.

I’m going to do a few things to make myself feel even more prepared. I’m ordering a cord of firewood for my house. I’m getting the chimney flue professionally cleaned. I’m going to Home Depot or Lowe’s and buying lanterns, stocking up on new candles, handwarmers and going to purchase some really good sleeping bags. I’m thinking the kind that people who camp out in sub-zero weather use.

So, for us, things will slowly feel better, day by day, but I don’t want to forget there is still suffering going on around me. We are trying to pay it forward, open our house to folks in need and asking our kid’s friends to spend the night to stay out of the cold.

I guess, unfortunately, dysfunction is the new normal these days. Let’s hope it ends quicker than later.

Night #6 Without Power – #HurricaneSandy

It’s been six days since Hurricane Sandy hit. Six very long days without power, which means no heat, no light and watching the food in the fridge and freezer slowly disappear. The kids have been off of school for the entire week and we still don’t know when they’re going back. There are gas shortages and soon we won’t have enough for the cars to run. The worst have been the nights with temperatures dipping into the 30′s because it is just so cold, it gets into your bones. Even with a fire going in the fireplace, it isn’t enough to get that internal chill to leave. But even with all this, I consider myself thankful. My house survived the storm and my family is healthy. So many people lost so much. I can’t read the newspaper or watch the news without welling up in tears. I feel guilty being upset or overwhelmed when so many lost so much.

Our neighbors have been great. We’ve been sharing firewood, offers of showers from folks who have hot water (we do), and those who got their generators on have offered us to come over and charge our electronics. It’s amazing how removed you feel from society when you are completely disconnected. No internet, no tv, no phones. We have been living meal to meal, buying things at stores that are slowly getting their power turned on, grabbing food we can grill, driving seven miles away where we know a pizza place is open. We keep saying, it could be worse.

And the moments I have gotten on the internet, little snippets at a library or at work one day, I’ve been overwhelmed with the outpouring of support from my family and friends and folks on Twitter and Facebook. I don’t even really know some of the people who’ve reached out with kind words and it’s been so unbelievably nice to hear from everyone. You feel very alone at times, even though rationally you know unfortunately another 400,000+ people are still in this boat with you with not a clear date when it will end. But I do know it will end one day… it could be a week, two weeks, or tomorrow. We just have to hope (and it starts with getting that huge weeping willow off the downed power lines outside)

At the end of the day, this will be a lesson for my kids. They’ll learn they can survive something like this, where things aren’t perfect but with a little perseverance and sacrifice, you can make it through.

Tonight we finally caved and went to my sister in law a few towns over. It’s warm and light and cozy. I am on my computer on the internet, my daughter is watching television. Six days worth of laundry is being done and we just finished eating take-out Chinese food. Life feels just a little bit more normal for tonight. Tomorrow night if the power is still out, we’ll brave it again, but for now we’re good.

One day at a time, right?

I’m going to let YOU decide – which book do I self-pub first?

Ok folks, I’ve finally decided to jump into the indie fray and self pub a novel. I was fortunate to have FLYING TO THE LIGHT, my YA thriller published by Cool Well Press, but I’m itching to do something with the other five novels sitting complete in my computer. The question is, which one do I start with? Do I start with THE WORLD OF KAROV, a dark fantasy tale (book #2 in the series is already complete) or THE MANNEQUINS, a standalone horror tale? So, since I can’t decide, I’m going to give you guys the first few pages of each book. If you can give me your thoughts at the end of which one you find more compelling, I’d appreciate it. I’ll start with an overview blurb of each one.

THE WORLD OF KAROV – A Fantasy Tale, book one in the Children of Demilee series

After his bride is kidnapped by his own twin brother on his wedding day, grief stricken, Adam flees to the Canadian mountains where he lives as a recluse. As sanity slowly leaves him, a stranger appears and offers him a chance at a new life in a realm filled with magic, gems and powers unimaginable. Adam goes with the stranger, but his past comes back to haunt him, resulting in a showdown with his brother that propels Adam’s new world into turmoil.

First 3 pages:

Prologue: 400 years in the past, Canadian Mountains

My life didn’t truly begin until I arrived in the land of Karov, a realm the villagers called Innerworld. As a foreigner to this land, I was “the damaged boy from a different dimension” – from a land called Outerworld. It’s important for me to explain how I came to be here, because people such as me, much less kids, were not allowed to even visit this world. It was against the laws of the land, decreed as such for centuries, because my very presence was a danger to the inhabitants of this kingdom. This is a danger foretold in every tapestry displayed through the castle for all the inhabitants to see. It is on the paintings on the very walls of the emerald caves and in the scrolls hidden deep in the passages under the castle, placed there by the Ancients themselves. Those powerful beings who once ruled this dimension, but have since mysteriously disappeared, hiding themselves away from a great evil hunting for them across the dominions; leaving us with only the essence of their great powers.

Let me explain….

Chapter One

It was the smell that woke me from my troubled dreams. That distinct, metallic scent of an animal when it’s been run over by a wagon and left to die in its own filth on a dirt road riddled with the excrement of horses. Why this smell was in my room terrified me.

It was late; so late the hens were still fast asleep and the insects had ceased their incessant chattering for the night. Even the passing horse carts, bringing their furs and goods between the villages had silenced and gone to bed for the evening, only to resume again in a few hours to start their barter dance once again.

I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, fearful of what I would find. I listened for my twelve year old brother’s labored breathing, listening for the snores which accompanied my twin’s dreams. I heard nothing and it meant only one thing. He was up and waiting for me to discover what he’d done. I could feel his anticipation like tingles on my skin; feel his eyes boring through the patched quilt as they tried to see how I’d react. I knew him like I knew myself because we were intrinsically linked by more than just this shared bedroom. We were linked by the bond of blood. And though we were identical twins, we didn’t share the unbreakable connection most twins shared, for we were as different as they came. My twin harbored a soul so mutated he couldn’t be called human. He lived to cause misery to others and nothing made him happier than when he was bullying younger kids, hurting small animals or stealing from the local merchants. He was the vandal who stole the poor farmer’s eggs and smashed them on their houses for fun. He was the one the villagers’ thoughts turned to when their beloved pets went missing and the one people feared so deeply they tried their best not to ever look him in the eye and cause him any reason to seek them out. They stayed silent through all their fears, knowing if they ever said anything, my brother would come to visit worse atrocities on them in retribution.

Gulping down my dread, I raised my arm and laid my hand gently on my chest. The sticky fur stuck to my palm and though I tried my best not to scream, to make any sound, I just couldn’t stop it. A horrified moan escaped my lips and I opened my eyes. I could practically hear Alec giggling under the covers.

The moon chose that moment to come out from behind the clouds and illuminate the little stray lying across my chest. She had been choked with a piece of rope we used to tie up the goat in the backyard. Rivulets of congealed blood stained her delicate little nose. Wide brown eyes stared at me, wondering what she had possibly done to deserve this, wondering what in heaven’s name could have possessed the boy who had taken her in and lovingly cared for her only days before, to turn against her. Because I knew the face she saw as she died was mine. She would have had no idea it really wasn’t me, but a terrible evil which walked the land in my own likeness.

Shaking in anger, I bundled the cat together with my ruined blanket and sat up, holding it accusingly as I stared at the mound of covers shaking gleefully on the bed across the room from me.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words fell on deaf ears. He wouldn’t answer me, the same way he didn’t answer me for any of the other hundred accusations I threw at him. How I hated him.

 

THE MANNEQUINS – a stand-alone horror tale

In the deep woods of California, there’s an old decaying mansion with a terrible secret. When any enter its doors, the house claims them, propelling them to a land in a different reality, run by a man who calls himself, The Preacher. If you play by his rules, you live a life of luxury, but if you displease him? With a flick of his wrist, you are transformed into a living doll, a mannequin, and there is no escape… until the madman is done playing with you.

Chapter One

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Officer Decker said. “Take your time and start from the beginning.”

“Okay Of-officer,” the man stuttered. “I’ll t-try.” His eyes suddenly glazed over and he shuddered uncontrollably.

Decker leaned over and shook him back to reality. “Try to stay with us, Mike.”

Mike blinked and looked around, realizing where he was. He took a deep breath. “I’ll try. I’m okay now.” He reached for the glass of water on the table and took a sip, but couldn’t stop shaking and it spilled all over his hands. He stared at them dumbly until one of the officers pried the glass gently from his fingers and placed it back on the table.

“It’s okay, Mike,” Decker said patiently. “Don’t worry about the spill. We’ll get you something to dry you off.” He handed him a towel.

Mike wiped his hands and then his face, remaining quiet, trying to get his composure back. He glanced up. “Did they find the boy yet?” He heard the desperation in his voice and cringed.  One look at the officer’s reaction and he knew the answer.

The officers sent each other a silent stare, as if deciding best how to answer him. Decker said carefully, “Not as of yet, Mike. We’ve combed through the house three times, but we haven’t turned anything up. We haven’t found any of the mannequins you spoke about either. Except for some old, broken furniture, the place is empty.”

Mike spoke in a whisper, because a whisper was all he could manage. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? You don’t believe a word of what I’ve said. I know. I can see it in your eyes.” He studied his hands again, now contemplating the array of lines which ran across his palm.

Officer Martin interrupted his thoughts. “Mike, that’s not true. Of course we believe you. We just want to piece together exactly what happened. We know you and seventeen members of a film crew mysteriously disappeared over fifteen years ago. Then, early this morning, you show up at exactly the same spot you originally disappeared, disoriented and confused – frantically asking about a boy. We just want to find out what happened to you all these years. To help you.”

Mike sighed and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. He had been thirty-two when he and the film crew first went into the house and though now he was only forty-seven, he could easily pass for sixty. His hair was streaked with white, he felt tired all the time, and he was certain he had developed the beginning stages of arthritis from the constant pressure on his joints. It was the damned house which had done it to him.

He rubbed his hand against his cheek, thick with a week’s worth of coarse gray stubble, and felt suddenly anxious. His eyes darted around the room, stopping repeatedly to focus on the long mirror on the wall. Thank God, he couldn’t see his reflection from this angle. He turned to the officers. “Can you bring a different mirror in here? Something I can hold? Please?

Decker nodded at Martin knowingly and left the room. Within two minutes, he was back and propped a square, two foot by two-foot mirror on the floor against the wall. “This okay, Mike?”

Mike knew they were humoring him. Humor the crazy man, give him what he wants, and maybe he’ll give you the information you needed. He wanted to do just that, but for now, he simply stared at the mirror, thinking. He was glad at the angle it was perched. Again, he couldn’t see his reflection. He wasn’t ready for that yet, and neither were the officers. He pulled his eyes away from the smaller mirror and examined the big mirror again. This one took up a large section of the wall.

Mike knew that it was a two-way version, that he was probably being observed right now by the top psychiatric minds in this small part of the county, all probing, trying to decide if he was certifiably crazy. Or worse, if he was somehow responsible for the disappearance of all those people.

He shuddered. He wasn’t responsible for the others. Damn it, he had been trying to help them! Of course, at the time things had gotten so crazy, it was all he could do to keep himself alive. His sole responsibility had been the boy and he had screwed that up. They never should have gone into the house. “Damn.”

Decker leaned in close. “What, Mike? You say something?”

Mike sat back in his chair, sighed and rubbed his palms over his face. “Nah, it was nothing. This mirror’s fine.” He let his eyes drift to the decanter of water on the table. If he looked closely he could see his reflection in the glass. It was fuzzy and distorted, but he would swear his hair wasn’t combed down as his reflection suggested and his eyes were alive, not that dead glaze he saw staring back at him. Mike glanced away and shook his head, clearing his vision. He had to explain to the officers what had happened to him. It was now or never. He took a deep breath and started speaking.

“We were filming a movie.”

Excerpt of FLYING TO THE LIGHT

I thought I’d share an excerpt of FLYING TO THE LIGHT for folks who were interested in reading a little bit of the novel. I’ve been getting some really nice press recently and I’m very excited to say the sequel is scheduled to be released early 2013. Please enjoy!

 

Chapter 1

Thursday, 5:00 am Day 4

Michael was so terrified he couldn’t breathe. His safe, little world had shifted out of its comfortable orbit the moment his parents were kidnapped, propelling him to places he never dreamed imaginable. Suddenly, there was horror everywhere and nothing was what it appeared to be. How could life go so terribly wrong in just a few hours? He had had no time to think. He couldn’t plan, but just reacted to what was happening. A storm, more volatile and dangerous than a level five tornado had turned his world inside out and all he could do was attack it head-on, swallowing his fear and living strictly on the adrenaline pumping furiously throughout his body, hoping against hope his luck wouldn’t run out.

The only thing he knew was that now his little brother was his responsibility. An innocent six-year old who for some reason the world wanted to claim as its own to exploit.

Michael wouldn’t let them win. He would protect his brother with his life.

He glanced at Danny, who had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. He could see his brother’s furrowed brow and pale face in the flickering glow of the highway lamplights. Michael felt like they’d been through a war, racing right along with the military guys in the Middle East right now.

Just as the rain began hitting the windshield, Danny started to whimper.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.” He wondered if he could fulfill that simple promise. He took one hand off the wheel and patted his brother’s head. Danny immediately calmed. Still, he wouldn’t have responded even if Michael had shouted. Danny was deaf, and that, among other things, was one of the reasons they were in this car fleeing across the country. They were running far away from their home, trying desperately to get to a small town in northern California. Mr. Daley had said there was a man there who could help them. Daley was Michael’s high school biology teacher and the only person in Rockland County who wasn’t out for the glory, the money, the prize of scientific discovery, or the chance to see the light.

 

If you’re interested, it’s available on Amazon for only $3.99 at http://www.amazon.com/Flying-to-the-Light-ebook/dp/B00666JMOM/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347934974&sr=8-2&keywords=flying+to+the+light also on B&N and Amazon UK too!

 

Author Interview with Jocelynn Drake

How many times do you read a stand-alone novel and wish it were a series? Well, I was given a copy of Jocelynn Drake’s NIGHTWALKER and absolutely loved it. What’s not to love? I’m a vampire fan and appreciate books with strong female characters, lots of fighting and oozing tension on all levels. This book fit the bill to a “T”. When I finished the novel, I actually went and found her on Twitter and Goodreads because I just wanted to tell her how much I loved the book and give her a review. To my surprise, other fans of hers tweeted me that this was actually a series and there were five more novels! I raced through each one of THE DARK DAYS SERIES and was just so impressed with the quality of the writing and the intricacies of the characters and worlds she created. The books were fun, action-packed and at times quite “saucy!” I truly enjoyed them.

So, since I’m not shy and love interviewing authors, I took a chance and asked Jocelynn if I could interview her for my blog and she graciously said yes. So without further ado, please let me introduce you to a native Cincinnatian who is a devoted fan of the Reds and Bengals, (and strangely not a Skyline Chili fan, but we’ll let that slide because her books are so amazing),  Ms. Jocelynn Drake…

1) Let’s talk about writing a series. When you first set out to write the Dark Days novels, did you already envision it as a series from the “get-go?” What was your process like?

Funny enough, when I started writing Mira and Danaus, I was intending to create only a short story. I handed the story off to a friend to read. He returned it demanding I write more. By the time I was halfway through the first book, I realized I had enough material rattling around in my imagination to write several books. The original first book ended up being split into three books and expanded. And then when I was working on the second book, my publisher indicated that they wanted to do a total of six books.

The entire process of plotting/outlining the series has been very fluid, requiring I be flexible. From day one, I knew how the series was going to end; I just tweaked how Mira and Danaus got there. I didn’t plan on readers meeting Mira’s real father, even though I always knew who he was. I had always planned on Danaus getting his own book, but I thought it was going to be the second or third rather than the fourth. Some people died that I hadn’t planned on, which was as heartbreaking for me as it was for the readers.

When I worked on the series, I always had a goal in sight that I was working toward. I just didn’t always know how I was going to get there and who was going to survive the journey.

When I sat down for each book, I made plans for that particular book, listing problems and questions which needed to be addressed. I also tried to make notes of ideas of I had for future books. For several years, I had Mira constantly whispering in my ear as I worked.

2) There were a tremendous amount of plot lines and rules for all the different beings in these novels. How did you keep track of everything? Are you a big outliner or are you a panster, letting things develop as they go along?

I am something of a mix. For the main plot of the book, I am a serious outliner. The entire book has to be outlined before I am allowed to start working. I have to know where I am headed so my characters don’t get sidetracked. However, the character development and the personal moments develop more organically as I am working on a scene. I can’t plan those things. Sometimes a character will open his/her mouth and say something I wasn’t expecting, and the whole scene shifts to something wonderful and new. My outline is like a skeleton which supports the story and the story grows out from that structure. It demands flexibility. I can’t be locked to my outline, unwilling to change if I want the characters to be true and convincing

To keep up with it all, I make extensive notes. I have world-building notes. I have several different versions of characters lists so I know who’s alive, who’s dead, and when/how they died. I have several interviews of my major characters as well as essays written from the point of view of a character. Some of this I share with readers and some never sees the light of day. These notes help me understand the world I’ve created, keep details straight, and help develop new plot ideas.

3) I don’t think readers realize how much work goes into the telling of a story – they simply just get lost in the tale, which is what we want to happen. That’s probably the greatest gift for an author. So please, tell us about the new series you’re working on.

The Asylum Tales is a completely new and strange world. Humans live in a world surrounded by every magical and mythical creature we’ve ever run across in a story. Your next-door neighbor may be a werewolf, your office cube mate could be an ogre, your dentist is a siren, and your favorite bartender is a minotaur. And the strange thing? This is normal for you. In this world, everyone needs a little help every once in a while. Maybe it’s some good luck? Maybe your love life needs a boost? That is where a good tattoo artist comes in handy. With a magic potion added to the ink, the tattoo artist can help you woo your sweetheart or maybe hex your ex.

The series focuses on Gage Powell, owner and tattoo artist at Asylum Tattoo Parlor in Low Town. Gage, along with fellow tattoo artists Bronx (a troll) and Trixie (an elf), help people with their troubles while trying to stay out of trouble as well. Unfortunately, that’s not very easy for Gage, because he’s a former warlock from the Ivory Towers – the dark rulers of this world. The members of the Towers are still hunting for Gage because he left them. Dodging witches and warlocks, Gage tries to help his friends without losing his own head in the process.

4) Was it hard writing a whole new set of characters? Did you set out to make the book completely different than your previous work?

When I started working on the Asylum Tales, I set out to make it as different from the Dark Days series as possible. The new series involves vampires and shifters, but right now they have been relegated to smaller side characters. The new series is told from a guy’s point of view and Gage is very different from Mira, even though he does have a similar fast, hot temper. I tried to inject a little more humor into this new series. The new series isn’t as dark, but it does have its serious moments. I also wanted all the paranormal creatures out in the open. I didn’t want to worry about protecting anyone’s identity because humans didn’t know about vampires or faeries or trolls etc. Funny enough, it turns out that Gage is the one in hiding.

It actually wasn’t hard to work with an entirely new set of characters. I guess my mind was ready for the change of pace, because I found myself easily slipping into this world so I was mentally kicking back at Asylum with Gage and the gang. Gage’s voice reminds me of all the male friends I’ve had over the years, and he definitely has the potential to be just as crass. I think the hardest thing is balancing this large ensemble cast of characters. I’ve just finished the second book and the character list keeps growing. I’m struggling to find ways to work everyone into a book because they are all so fun to play with. I look forward to Gage’s visits to Chang’s black market because the wily old man is hilarious. I love visiting Jack because Jack hates Gage. I love working with Bronx because he’s so even and steady amid the chaos.

5) It sounds like you’re having wonderful fun with these books, so congratulations! So please, tell me what advice can you offer new writers who are struggling to receive recognition for their work? And how do you personally gauge success?

The best advice I can give is that as a writer, you should only focus on writing the best book you can possibly write. You should think only about that. Don’t worry about marketing, social media, publishers, and all the rest. Write the book. Finish the book. Revise the book. The rest will come later. The best way to get the attention of readers and publishers is to write a good book.

At first I thought success was measured by how many books were sold or whether I was offered another contract from my publisher. I’ve now been in this business for a few years and I think the best measure of success are the little notes and comments I get from readers saying they enjoyed the book. I love hearing someone loved a book or cried in reaction to an event in a book. I love hearing they’re looking forward to the next book or sad the series is over. I spent close to seven years working with Mira and Danaus. They were a big part of my life and it’s nice to know other people loved them as well. If I can entertain someone for a few hours, help them escape into another world, then I’ve accomplished my goal and that is the greatest feeling in the world.

6) It really is a wonderful feeling. And I love to ask this last question: Tell us something we don’t know about you.

I didn’t set out to be an author. It was never a goal. When I started college, I was actually an engineering major. Oh, I started writing stories when I was 12 and I wrote stories all through high school and college, but I was also aware of how hard it was to get published. I knew it was a long shot. I just wanted to write stories. I wasn’t concerned with anyone actually reading them. It wasn’t until I had been out of college (with my English/Journalism degree because I hate calculus) that I started working on Nightwalker. It wasn’t until I finished writing the book that I thought it might be good enough for publication. It took two years and countless revisions, but I sold the book and several others.

If I couldn’t be a writer, I think my only option would be for me to be a cat. Yes, I will be a cat if I can’t be a writer.

Jocelynn, thank you so much for your time and allowing us a glimpse into your writing world.

If you’d like to learn more about Jocelynn Drake and her breadth of work, please feel free to locate her at the following addresses:

Website: www.JocelynnDrake.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JocelynnDrake

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jocelynn.drake

Blog: http://jocelynndrake.blogspot.com/

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jocelynn-Drake/e/B001RXUEXW/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1345144382&sr=8-2-ent

Math classes at 45?

How many of us remember the day when we realized we might not know everything our kids need to know? Or, worse, when our kids finally realized it? For me it came sometime at the beginning of fifth grade. My daughter was having issues with her math homework and showed it to me. I admit, I stared at it long and hard for at least five minutes until I finally had to turn to her, her eyes wide and hopeful that mommy would help, and I had to tell her I just didn’t understand and we’d have to ask Dad. I remember her sighing. God, I hated that sound! I want to always be able to fix everything, but I couldn’t – I simply didn’t know how.

It made me think. At what point is it okay that we stop knowing? Or more importantly, to stop learning? I decided there is no point. As long as we live and breathe on this earth, I believe it’s essential we always consistently try to learn new things. Besides it keeping our minds young, it gives us more breadth of character, more outlets and interests. I meet a lot of people who tell me, “I have no interests and nothing I want to learn.” I am rendered utterly speechless. Nothing? You wish, dream, hope for nothing? There’s nothing on this earth you wouldn’t like to learn or try or do? They must be the happiest people in the world you would think, but I bet they’re not.

So, I decided I’d like to keep learning, no matter what it is. I have all these bucket lists I’m slowly checking off. Some are physical, some are professional, some are just for fun. Bootcamp classes are going well (as long as my back holds), I started a food blog with a good friend of mine called www.battleyum.com where we pick ingredients in a “chopped-like food challenge,” cook them, our family rates them and we blog about it. I take sign language classes so I can hopefully be more helpful in some deaf school chats to discuss FLYING TO THE LIGHT, and last night…. well, I started math classes at the place where my daughter gets tutored twice a week. There are only three classes scheduled in total and apparently I’m the only parent that signed up, but I’m there. The teachers last night were surprised more parents didn’t sign up and I had to tell them it was probably out of sheer embarrassment. Come on, what adults will admit they don’t know 5th grade math (or, gulp, 4th?) Apparently, a lot of us, but I must have matured enough in my years to suck up my embarrassment and humility to tell them I needed help and if they ever gave a math class for adults, I’d like to give it a go. If we walk around timid and shy all day, we’ll never get anywhere. I wrote a book and some folks will like it and some won’t and that’s okay. My blog? Some will like it and some won’t. I realize I can’t please everyone and that’s just how it is. Writing is an open forum. It’s like artwork; it’s subjective. Everything I do is out in the open to be judged and dissected, but if I don’t put things out in the universe, then it just stays hiding under my bed, and I don’t want to hide.

So yes, math classes at 45 years old. We went over orders of operation, the four kinds of fractions, percents, exponents and a few other things. Apparently I haven’t forgotten as much as I thought, though apparently I do everything the completely LONG way. It’s correct, but technically I could be better. Next week we’re doing integers (not sure what that means yet), triangle and circumference equations and whatever else they wish to throw my way. And you know what I say?

Bring it on! Now tell me what you’re doing to keep learning – I’d love to hear.

Interview with Carolyn Arnold

    Books by Carolyn Arnold

I have been so fortunate to meet wonderful authors over the past few months and what I’ve noticed is the complete lack of competitiveness between all of them. I’ve never met a group of people so willing to help each other out. Carolyn Arnold is no exception. She has written several novels across a multitude of genres and has created an amazing blog called Celebrating Authors, where she promotes other writers’ upcoming projects with snapshots, announcements and interviews on their current works.

So, to continue with my love of bringing authors to my blog, hailing all the way from Canada, please allow me to present the multi-talented Carolyn Arnold.

1) So, Carolyn, please tell us about your upcoming book and what it’s like writing a series?

SACRIFICE is the third in The Madison Knight Series. Designed to be a stand-alone series, it follows Major Crimes Detective Madison Knight in her drive to find justice for the victims of horrendous crimes, despite the ever-impeding domination of male superiors.

Here’s the book blurb for SACRIFICE:

When the son of business tycoon Marcus Randall, washes up on the shore of the Bradshaw River, Detective Madison Knight must sacrifice everything—including her career—to find justice for the “perfect murder”.

With Marcus Randall already on the radar of the Secret Service for fraud and counterfeiting, the investigation sheds new light, and they require the full co-operation of the Stiles PD. But with power and money to back him, Marcus has a reach that extends right inside the police department.

If Madison’s going to find out the truth, she’ll have to sort through the lies and balance diplomacy with politics.

~~

As for writing a series, it can be both comfortable and difficult.  While you might know the characters quite well you have to be certain to keep things consistent.  This can be a trick, and that’s why it’s a good idea to keep good notes on everyone, and everything that has gone in a novel.

2) I completely understand about keeping notes. So many times we change or add things to a novel and being consistent with our characters is so key. How did you come up with the idea for this particular book?

Actually, it was inspired from real-life.  I used to work for a father and son.  The son never seemed to take any responsibility in life, and his father was left to clean up after him.

3) I believe taking facets from real-life can truly bring a book alive and is very relatable to readers. Do you research a lot?

Most definitely.  Also, when I research I cross-reference to make sure that I have a solid understanding of the material.  With TIES THAT BIND, I recently received some high praise from an ex-cop who spent 30 years on the job.

This is his review in part:  “Police Procedural at its best…Arnold really did her homework in “Ties” researching interview techniques, evidence procedures, medical terminology, and legal issues that usually are painfully absent in most police procedural novels. Not in “Ties”, seriously the most technically correct police procedural novel I have ever read. The fictional side was even more entertaining than the facts!…”

4) What an amazing praise from an ex-cop! Congratulations! So with all this reviewing and researching, do you plot a lot or do you let your story surprise you?

A mix of both, I suppose.  While I am primarily a “panster”, I have an idea where I want things to go.  But, sometimes, or should I say a lot of times, my characters take me down another path.  These “detours” are a real highlight of the writing journey.

5) Agreed – there’s that wonderful moment as a writer when your characters simply bring you someplace that maybe fifteen minutes before was never even a thought in your mind. It’s that “detour” you speak of that makes it so worthwhile. So tell us, what are your current projects?

I’m taking a stab at writing a political thriller.  And, I’m getting ready to start a first round of edits for another thriller novel for release in the late fall—ASSASSINATION OF A DIGNITARY.

6) You’re a writing dynamo and in a relatively short time you published a great series of work. So many people say they want to write a novel, but they just don’t get around to it. How do you do it?

What an amazing compliment: a dynamo   I guess it just comes from such a passion for writing.  Writing, to me, is something that is a necessary part of my daily life.  I’ve made sacrifices for it, and continue to, but when you strongly believe in something, you don’t have much choice.  I just hope that my readers fall in love with my characters as much as I have.

I’ve written 8 novels, and 2 short stories.  4 of these novels are in The Madison Knight Series, 2 are thrillers, 1 is suspense, and 1 a romantic suspense.  Book blurbs on all of them are available on my website here:  http://carolynarnold.net

7) Ok, lastly, tell us something that folks might not know about you.

Hmm, tough question as I consider myself rather open….This summer, I took another attempt at gardening, and so far, not only are the plants still alive (a month later), they are prospering.  My favorite is my banana tree, which is growing at an insane rate.

Carolyn, thank you so much for your time. If you’d like to connect with Carolyn and her novels online, please see the links below.

Amazon Author Page • Website • Blog • Twitter • Facebook

Boot Camp and “Mind” Fulfillment

So let’s talk about fulfillment. There are so many things we want in this world and it’s always different things for different people. Health seems to be the driving, motivating first choice, but then comes the other more basic fundamentals, like happiness, money, personal achievement, a good relationship, among a host of other things.

Little kids, my own included, see “things and possessions” as the objects that will make them happy. “Oh, if I only had that iTouch, video game, scooter, cool toy.” I try to tell them that happiness is not about what you own, but what you do. Because how many times do they get that one game they were begging for and then a day later they are bored by it and want something else? Or, I heard this example from a buddhist who said “people think that if they just went on that one amazing vacation and got away from work, they’d be happy” but then once they are on that vacation they spend their time thinking about work and all the other things that made them crazy in the first place. You must be internally happy with yourself, in my mind, because without that you can fill your life with objects and you’ll never be truly happy.

So I ask, what makes you happy? For me, yes, when my kids are happy, I am happy. I guess that’s a given and as a parent you’d be remiss if you didn’t automatically say that. But, once that is met, for me it’s about fulfilling my time in a way where I don’t feel like I’m wasting my life. I know, a very type “A” mentality and it’s quite hard on myself. But if work is slow, I feel frustrated. Like I could be doing so much more with my day. So I’ve been filling my outside life with things to help me grow and push myself and I realize it’s because I’m trying to find this even playing field in my life where I feel fulfilled. So, I write, I take boot camp (I will get to this), I am taking sign language classes and even on the side I do a crazy little private food blog with a friend that mimics the Chopped TV show and we have to cook a meal each weekend and our family has to judge it. It’s a lot, but it keeps my mind busy.

Now, let’s talk about this boot camp because folks have asked me if I’ve gone insane. I am doing this because I’ve been hurting myself in Tae Kwon Do (and I want to go back) and this program is supposed to completely build up my core and back muscles and they are monitoring me so that if I feel any real pain, the exercises change. But, most of the time I can do everything except jumping down from this one six foot wall which is quite jarring for the back. It is fun and it is challenging but I’ll be honest – it’s ridiculous. I mean, it’s one full hour of me and 10 – 20 other “recruits” in green camoflauge working out non-stop for an hour. We will do everything from running outside in the rain and dropping and doing pushups on the rough, wet blacktop to running with tires, to doing obstacle courses, climbing walls, rope walks, slides – anything the marine orders us to do and not just once or for a count of ten times – it could be 20 times, thirty. One girl dropped the weights she was holding and she had to go do a lap and back HOLDING said weights that had dropped because she was sweating like a dog. But, it was done nicely. They are not ”breaking you down to build you up” but it’s all simply “building you up to do your best.” Still, they’ll make you do things if you screw up and the first day they didn’t like how I (and a few other women) shouted out one of the ten principals (apparently it wasn’t loud enough?) so they made me drop and do 50 push-ups! I was doing them and thinking “I seriously can’t believe I’m doing pushups in the rain and I’m paying for this.” Thankfully they stopped me to do another exercise before I got past twenty, and it’s all in good fun, but it’s hard. Really, really hard. I guess I push myself because I have adamently refused to grow old gracefully. I think I’m a kid and I just expect my body to act like it and so I just continually push myself as if I won’t be crippled the next day.

The sign language classes are something that I’m doing because there is a deaf character in a book I wrote and now I can talk to folks in the deaf community better if I can speak their language. And, I love to learn new things. I also do a crazy little weekly food blog with a friend because I like to cook. I write because I love it. So, I’m trying to fit as much “life experiences” in as I can. I want to travel – am super excited to go away with some girlfriends soon and I’ve got plans to visit family at the end of the summer. I guess I just am cramming everything in so that nothing escapes me. (and I guess, maybe it keeps my mind off things that I can’t control, like work, or family if they’re sick or other things where no matter what I want to do, I simply have no say). So, hence, I keep busy to keep my “mind” fulfilled.

So now tell me please, what are you all doing to find a sense of balance and fulfillment in your life? Am I the only one that pushes themselves to this extreme? Come tell me. I’d love to hear!

Type “A” continued….

Yes, Yes. I know, I hurt my back in tae kwon do in early April and I need to rest. I am resting, I promise. I haven’t taken class in nearly a month and a half and I’ve promised my doctors I’m taking all of June off, too. But, does that mean I’m just going to lay around? Me? Not a shot.

Seriously folks, I just gained 4-5+ hours a week back taking classes and the time I practiced at home! So, in my desire to constantly be busy, to constantly be learning and to constantly push myself, I just signed myself up for American Sign Language classes. It turns out that since my novel, FLYING TO THE LIGHT has a deaf little boy in it, I’ve had some really amazing press from the deaf community. So amazing that schools for the deaf have asked me to come and talk with their students. (one even bought 35 copies of the book for their new library - and one for each kid! OMG – I kid you not!) I initially learned ASL over 20 years ago in college and I like to say “you need a tetanus shot to read my ASL, it’s so rusty” but that joke only takes me so far. I need to be able to actually talk to the people in the community who are reading my book and so, rather than muddle through my rudimentary skills, I’m jumping in. Already paid for Level II and Level III (I apparently remembered more than I thought and they had me bypass Level I completely – yeah me!)

And, in my newly found hours, I also finished off the sequel to FLYING TO THE LIGHT, planted our garden (veggies and tons of flowers) and spent evenings with my kids just playing games. Now, truth be told, the first few weeks after my injury, I really didn’t do too much more than lurch around my house. Sciatic pain has a way of making sure you don’t forget that you need to heal. But, true to my own character, once I start feeling better, I’m off. As my chiropractor said, “just because you feel better, doesn’t mean you ARE better.” Now, that is true, but I try sometimes not to let my body rule and instead let my brain and heart rule. I just don’t want to give in to the pain. Am I stubborn? Maybe. Ok, I am. But, I think it’s more that I don’t want to miss any part of life and I just have too much to do to let pain get in the way of things.

The problem is, I’m starting to feel a lot better. A lot. I’m itchy to start doing things again and be running around. My husband is telling me to slow down and while the four pounds I gained the past seven weeks isn’t a ridiculous amount, I have been eating a lot (and, shudder, drinking soda) and basically stuffing my annoyance down with carbs, lactose free icecream and tons of sushi. My skinny jeans are tight on me and that’s NOT good – so I’m dying to get back to working out.

One more month, maybe two…. sigh… I wonder what else I can throw in there to do in the meantime? I’ll take suggestions – fire away!