Gabi Stevens's Blog, page 2
November 17, 2015
My Very First Political Post. . .
…in which I probably won’t change any minds, attract harsh or hurtful comments, and you won’t change my mind either. So why am I doing this? I can’t take it any more.
I am the first to admit I like to live by emotion. I am airy-fairy, or would like to be. My taste in books and movies runs to the fantasical or near fantastical. Seond Hand Lions, Notting Hill, Harry Potter, Dr. Who, Leverage, Ready Player One, The Martian—these are among my favorites. I look up spoilers regularly because I don’t want to spend money on something without a happy ending. I read the ends of books first. I really do. I like stories about the triumph of the human spirit. I want to believe in the goodness of mankind. I want to believe in the humanity of mankind.
Recent events have tested that desire. Not only the horrific events themselves, but also the reaction to those events.
Because despite my desire to cling to emotion, I also believe in facts and logic. Science trumps beliefs. Logic trumps emotion. So let me throw some numbers at you.
In 2013, 10,076 people were killed in drunk driving accidents.1 In 2013 all firearm deaths (includes accident, homicide, and suicide) totaled 33,636.2 The estimated number of murders for 2013 was 14,196.3 There were an estimated 79,770 reported rapes in the same year. (ibid.) These numbers are just for the US. These numbers are also all trending downward from earlier stats. That’s great news. There were 53 shark attacks worldwide that year too.
There were 10,000 terror attacks worldwide in 2013, causing 17,958 deaths. Of those deaths, 14,722 were in five countries: Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Nigeria.4 Those numbers are going up. The number of terrorism deaths of US citizens abroad in 2013 was sixteen.5 Nineteen terror victims died domestically.6
Every one of these numbers represents a mother, father, sister, brother, friend, relative, mentor, student, or any combination thereof; most represent a tragedy to someone somewhere. Those numbers are human lives. And even one is too many.
The events in Paris, Egypt, Beirut and elsewhere this week are tragedies, and our emotions get riled up.
Here’s the other point about humans I want to believe: we can be rational creatures. I honestly believe, biologically, the male of the species isn’t meant to be monogamous. But if we claim to have a brain, then we can overcome those urges (which is why I never have sympathy for politicians who are caught cheating; it’s stupid behavior and I can’t condone stupid behavior; even if you’re tempted, you use your brain and empathy not to act on your impulse; and don’t believe your own press. Sheesh.)
Back to the more serious subject. That there are people out there willing to hurt innocents makes them less than human (Not just terrorists—the drunk drivers and the criminals too; not the sharks—by definition they are less than human). Action should be taken against them.(Not the sharks)
But if you can’t look rationally at the numbers and realize that the odds are greater that you will be a victim of homicide or drunk driving than a terror attack, and your emotions override your humanity and allow bigotry to rule your actions, then you are less than human too.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Theft of Swords by Michael J Sullivan
2 http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/injury.htm
4 http://www.visionofhumanity.org/sites/default/files/Global%20Terrorism%20Index%20Report%202014_0.pdf
5 http://www.state.gov/j/ct/rls/crt/2013/224833.htm
6 http://www.johnstonsarchive.net/terrorism/wrjp255a.html
November 12, 2015
A quickie…
…’cause I really am in the writing throes and don’t have a lot of time.
Sometimes I wish I could cause a controversy as big as the Starbucks cup thing. Think of the free publicity I’d receive. I tried. When I taught I’d tell the parents at open house that I wrote books not appropriate for eighth graders and if they had a problem with that, then they should start a protest, but no one ever took me up on that offer.
Sigh. Meanwhile this is the meme that made me laugh the most.
Credit to whomever did this.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
The Lion’s Daughter by Loretta Chase
November 8, 2015
NaNoWriMo
Don’t know how much I’ll be updating here since I’m participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), but stay tuned.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo
The Martian by Andy Weir
October 28, 2015
Diversions, Wrong Turns, and Road Blocks
In which I examine the way life turns out …and not.
When I started college, I was a drama major. I have always loved to act. I put on plays as a kid, performed wherever I could (although I would take back that dance thing I did in junior high), and was even paid once for acting in a play in Los Angeles. Acting excited me. My professors in college told me I had real talent. So why didn’t I continue> I changed colleges more than once, and I had no real support from home. So I did the practical thing and became a German lit major. (Yes, I can hear your laughter from here.
I have always loved language–the way it works, the way you can play with it. It helps that I grew up bilingual–Hungarian and English. I took Latin in high school and won the foreign language award my senior year (and the drama award–see the first paragraph). German I started in college and spent my junior year in Göttingen. I started Japanese as a senior in college. My plan was to go to Japan to teach English there. Enter the love life.
Met my husband who asked me to go to grad school with him. So I did. Ended up getting a teaching German degree. He ended up with a PhD in robotics. So we moved to New Mexico where he could pursue his career. And since there is a high demand for German teachers in New Mexico (sarcasm font here) I stayed home with the twins.
But I needed to do something. That’s when I remembered stories. I have always loved reading and I’ve always had stories in my head. Now was the time to write them. So I did. Even was published by major NY publishing houses.
But now? The road has taken me somewhere I didn’t expect to be. Those “falling rock” signs? They’re true. The choice is either to backtrack a little and take the other way, or go around and see what’s ahead. Either way, it wasn’t what I expected and both paths are scary. But it’s also exciting, liberating, and freeing.You can’t see down the road, but you sure can get excited about it.
But stopping is not an option.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Writing tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer by Roy Peter Clark (Okay, so I’m not learning anything new from it, but sometimes it just feels good to read something and say, “Yup, I’m doing that.”)
October 12, 2015
Nicole Winters–Debut YA Author
Today I’m thrilled to have Nicole Winters here with her new book The Jock and the Fat Chick. It comes out today!
This YA Romance sounds funny and fantastic. Just look at this summary:
No one ever said high school was easy. In this hilarious and heartwarming debut, one high school senior has to ask himself how much he’s willing to give up in order to fit in. Kevin seems to have it all: he’s popular, good looking, and on his way to scoring a college hockey scholarship. However, he’s keeping two big secrets. The first is that he failed an assignment and is now forced to take the most embarrassing course ever–domestic tech. The second is that he is falling for his domestic tech classmate, Claire. As far as Kevin is concerned, Claire does have it all: she’s funny, smart, beautiful, and confident. But she’s off-limits. Because Kevin knows what happens when someone in his group dares to date a girl who isn’t a cheerleader, and there’s no way he is going to put himself—or Claire—through that. But steering clear of the girl of his dreams is a lot harder than Kevin thought…especially when a cooking project they are paired together for provides the perfect opportunity for things to heat up between them outside the classroom….
To help you get to know Nicole better, I’ve asked her some questions. She even included some links to some of the things she mentions in her answers.
Do you have any must-haves while writing?
Nicole: I suffer from chilblains so I must have heat, otherwise, it’s like typing with frostbitten fingers—very painful. Also, a good cuppa tea. Top Choice: Yorkshire Gold, orange pekoe with a splash of 2%. “Let’s have a proper brew” http://www.yorkshiretea.co.uk/products/tea/yorkshire-tea-gold.php
About your title: yours or the editor’s?
Nicole: Coming up with titles is weird for me, it’s like playing darts. Either I miss the board completely, or it’s a bullseye. In this case, the title was mine.
Which character did you like writing about the most, and why?
Nicole: I liked writing Claire and Kevin equally. Kevin, because he transforms from being physically and emotionally starved to nurturing himself and standing in his truth. Claire was fun because she knows who she is, where she is going, and loves the skin she’s in. They’re also two characters who love to laugh, so writing scenes with them together were pretty fun.
How did you celebrate “getting the call?”
Nicole: It was one of those beautiful winter days — no snow, no wind, the sun was shining — and after telling close friends and family, I shoveled off the balcony, grabbed a few blankets, my cat, a cup of tea, and enjoyed a gourmet cookie from The Chocolateria. http://www.thechocolateria.ca/#/HOME-01-00/
Who are your non-writer influences?
Nicole: Non-writer, huh? Hmm… I like Marie Forlio (http://www.marieforleo.com) for her videos and practical advice. I love her tagline: “Stay on your game; because the world needs that special gift that only you have.” I also like British illusionist and mentalist, Derren Brown.( http://derrenbrown.co.uk) What a showman, I’d love to see him perform live.
If you could sit down and have dinner with 5 dead authors (who would not appear in zombie form, but in their whole body selves), whom would you invite to the table?
Nicole: Dorothy Parker, Charles Dickens, Virginia Wolf, Lucy Maud Montgomery, David Foster Wallace
Which ancient or historical works have you not read and periodically kick yourself for not having made time for them yet?
Nicole: James Joyce’s ULYSSES; George Eliot’s MIDDLEMARCH: A STUDY OF PROVINCIAL LIFE
What is in your To Read Pile that you are dying to start or upcoming release you can’t wait for?
Nicole: Julie Murphy’s DUMPLIN’; Ron Rash’s ABOVE THE WATERFALL; Tommy Hays’ WHAT I CAME TO TELL YOU; John Dufresne’s NO REGRETS, COYOTE; Amy Willoughby-Buke’s OUT ACROSS THE NOWHERE; Gale Deitch’s A FINE FIX (And the list goes on; not enough time!)
If you could choose a superpower what would it be and why?
Nicole: It’d be the ability to stop time. I could read all those books on the stack, and I’d write all those stories piling up in my head. Hmm… maybe this is how James Patterson cranks out so many books in a year?
What’s next for you?
Nicole: Going back and polishing other novels (I hope to break into the middle-grade market) and I am delving into the world of magicians and magic (close-up, parlor, stage, illusions) for my next YA adventure, working title, THE CONJURER.
Nicole Winters
If that’s not enough for you, here’s a brief bio:
As a C average student with a learning disability, Nicole was herself a reluctant reader. That changed when, at the age of twelve, she was assigned S. E. Hinton’s classic YA novel The Outsiders. After devouring the book in a single sitting, Nicole came to understand how the right story can capture the imagination and enthusiasm of anyone – reluctant reader or otherwise. From there, Nicole gravitated towards tales of adventure, suspense, romance and horror. Her works focus on human relationships and the personal journeys of the characters, creating stories she hopes will excite and inspire readers. Nicole enjoys traveling the world, but calls Toronto home. She is the author of TT Full Throttle (a YA road racing novel) and is currently at work on her third novel, The Conjurer.
Website: http://nicolewintersauthor.com/blog
Twitter: @nicolewintersya
Facebook: The Jock and the Fat Chick
Facebook: Nicole Author Page
I thank Nicole for appearing here, and wish her much success with her career. May the debut strike the imagination of readers everywhere.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
How to Get Lucky: 13 techniques for discovering and taking advantage of life’s good breaks by Max Gunther
September 30, 2015
Unexpected Moments…
In which I look at the moments that touch us, reach us, or change us.
The other night I was lying in bed in the dark and letting my mind wander. I had just received my high school’s alumni bulletin, so naturally my mind went to special memories of that time. And then I was struck by the one-time-ness of the memories I recalled. What do I mean? For example, I was in a lot of plays during high school. While rehearsing for Cabaret (the high-school version), I was sitting in the day student break room (you know I went to boarding school, right?) with a group of fellow cast members when someone pulled out a guitar and we all improvised with the music. We harmonized, laughed, sang some more, hit wrong notes, hit amazing notes, soloed, dueted, etc. It was a special moment of no real significance, except that it was rare and unrelivable. We tried to recreate that moment again on a different day, but the same mood, attitude, atmosphere wasn’t there. So the one episode remains a special memory tucked away in my mind that I retrieve every now and again to prove to myself that I was once there and a singer and performer.
Sage Hall Dorm at FVS
For me, the same thing happens with people. I will on occasion have a conversation with someone and make a real connection for just one time, never to be repeated. I went to high school with a man who is now a famous actor. We also attended college together for one year. After a rehearsal of a play we were in together (yes, again, a play–The World is Round by Armand Salacrou), we were walking back to our dorms, when we started to talk. Now keep in mind I had known this guy for four years by this point, and while I had a crush on him for a short time in high school, I was never a close friend of his. Definitely acquaintances, but never close friends despite the small population of the school (everybody knew everybody), being in at least eight shows together and several classes. But that night we talked for about an hour, hour and a half, about life. How he was transferring colleges, how I was transferring college too, about dreams, hopes, goals, etc. I wonder if he remembers that night. Nothing happened. It was just a connection between two people who were fond of each other, but it makes me think of him in an entirely positive light to this day.
Just recently I met an author who is definitely up and coming. I expect to hear great things about him soon. We spent at least an hour and a half laughing, chatting, interrupting each other and generally just having a good time. It was a a very small writers’ retreat, but for that hour and a half, it was just two people making a connection. I will treasure that moment forever, and when he’s huge, and I truly believe he will be, I’ll have that moment to say, yeah, I once touched him.
These pearls are unique. I have copious memories of the people closest to me, but they are often conglomerations of several hours/days spent in one anothers’ company–my husband, my kids, my family. Other memories are mere moments, like the time my cousin slammed my grandmother’s hand in the door of our car in Hungary (I was four, and one of the two memories I have of my grandmother. The other one is the first time I ever saw her. It was that same summer in Hungary–her hair was covered by a scarf, she wore black, and I was scared because I thought she was a witch. She died before we visited Hungary again.)I expect to have and make memories with them. But the ones where I felt a real connection to someone unexpected, those are rare and fun to pull out every once in a while to assure ourselves that we existed.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Any Duchess Will Do by Tessa Dare
They Used to Call Me Snow White, But I Drifted by Regina Berreca
September 23, 2015
Storms
In which I examine power and control.
Yesterday at around 3:00 PM, a sudden downpour hit my neighborhood. I happened to be in my car taking the Youngest to work. The sky was gray, and the drops of rain left marks the size of quarters on the windshield . The sky was nearly black by the time we reached the parking lot of her workplace a mile away. Then the torrent hit. I pulled up to the door of her workplace so she could dash the final five feet into the safety of the building. The flag that flies outside the store was whipping in the wind and rain and hail. The space between the edge of the flag and the line it was hooked to looked like the letter D. I don’t know why that detail sticks out in my memory, but it does. Visibility was down to just a few feet. And I had to drive home.
It’s only a mile, but the road was covered in water, and cars were lined up on the side to wait out the worst. I slid back the covering of the sun roof so I could enjoy it better. Because I did. Enjoy it, I mean. It was a glorious display of nature and how puny we are in comparison. I was exhilarated. I was smiling and laughing at the amazing rain. I have a four-wheel drive (No, I wasn’t driving through any rushing water and I experienced no hydroplaning–I might have enjoyed the storm, but I’m not stupid) and I drove slowly and carefully. I happened to be behind two police vehicles that had been dispatched a few minutes before to make sure there was no trouble on the streets. I followed their taillights (they didn’t have on the flashers) for about half a mile then turned into my neighborhood (It really is only a mile from the Youngest’s work to home.). The sky was dark, the mountains that rise just off the east side of the road were invisible, and the rain came in discernible waves across the windshield.
A completely different kind of storm
Twenty minutes later, the deluge was over. My backyard had a two-inch lake in it (One dog went to explore it, the other wouldn’t step outside). Parts of the city were flooded, the arroyos that run through Albuquerque were full and dangerous, trees had toppled, and according to one news source, my neighborhood had received 1.52 inches of water in the space of an hour–that’s more than we usually get in the entire month.
Despite the danger, I loved it. I marvel at the unbridled, uncontrollable power of the storm and from the safety of my car and house, I watched with pleasure and glee. I’m sure I would feel different if I were exposed to the it, but I wasn’t. Today the sun is shining; they are predicting a possible rain for the afternoon, but I can’t imagine it might be like the one yesterday. Those are one in a million. During those storms the best you can do is find shelter and let it happen.
We have little actual control over much in life. We like to delude ourselves and think we are powerful, but in so many ways we aren’t. I’m not saying that’s bad. What I’m trying to say in a verbose and wordy manner is that you should learn to recognize where your decisions actually make a difference. That’s what you should worry about. (And no, I’m not advocating neglecting your duties like voting in elections or doing your job.)
In the case of writing (yes, it always comes back to writing with me), pretty much the only thing we have control over is the writing itself. Then we hand our work over to agents or editors or the public, and we lose control. Not complete control, but you can’t make an agent like your work, you can’t make an editor throw her support behind you, and you can’t make the public buy your book no matter how hard you beg. So I try to concentrate on the writing. And I try not to let the things I can’t command defeat me. I can’t say I enjoy the lack of control as I did the storm, but I try to keep myself safe and secure and focus on the stories I still have inside me. And, yes, I know I used the word “try” a lot because, let’s face it, I fail sometimes, but the storm always passes, and the sun comes out again.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Ready Player One by Ernest Cline (a re-read, but oh, so, good)
September 14, 2015
Forget September
In which I examine the quirks of my own mind and ask for the ones in yours…
Weird how our minds work. Take September, for example. For whatever reason. September is the month I forget. I want to go straight from August to October. 
I writing the date numerically, I need to concentrate on what number represents September. I literally have to count every time. It makes no sense because I know the “sept” part means seven (just as the “oct” part means eight, the “nov” part means nine, and the “dec” part means ten) and I also know that we add two because Julius and Augustus added their own months in the middle of the year. But for whatever reason I forget September. Must be genetic because my daughter recently confessed she does the same thing.
Here’s another quirk: the spelling of certain words. For decades that word was “embarrass.” I finally, this year (no hyperbole), got it because I can remember “double r, double s.” Don’t ask me why it took so long. For Robot Guy, the word is “separate.” I have never claimed to be a speller. I never found that skill important. Memorizing how a word is spelled is a waste of brain space when in the real world you can look everything up. Clarification: I didn’t find it important enough to worry about it, but I do look up everything that I am unsure about. Spell check is a blessing to me, and, yes, I make sure it’s the write word I right when using spell check (See what I did there?). Because I also believe my work should be as flawless as possible (not in a blog–a blog is too casual). I will never forget my favorite sentence from a student paper: Huck Finn crossed the Mississippi on a fairy.
Here’s on more: I have a great sense of direction, but I can’t tell my right from my left without help. Seriously. If I go someplace I usually can find my way back. True story. I had a cousin who lived in a tiny town in Hungary. I visited there once with my parents, and my aunt who drove us and of course knew the way. Four years later, I was visiting again on my own and I found my way back to my cousin’s house without directions. I amazed Robot Guy with that feat (not feet–see how important spelling is; just not the memorization of spelling). But ask me if it’s a left turn or a right turn, and I have to lift up my hands, make an “L” from my fingers to determine which hand is left and then answer. Or I pretend to play piano and then I know which is my right hand.
People are weird. I love it. What quirks will you confess to?
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
The Dinosaur Lords by Victor Milan
August 21, 2015
Use Your Senses
No, not common sense, although you should be using that one too. In which I talk about the two hardest senses to convey in books–taste and smell.
They say (whoever they are) smell is the strongest trigger for memories. I could look this up, but I don’t want to right now. I’d say they’re right. The smell of diesel fuel in the rain—sounds gross, I know—takes me back to Germany, Austria, and Switzerland and when I traveled there as a kid with my family. Corn meal takes me back even further. When I was a toddler, my parents owned and ran a chicken farm in Los Angeles. Corn meal was used to feed the chicks. The smell makes me feel safe, warm, and loved. (Yes, I had a good childhood. No traumas to draw on for my writing.)
Black plums (And can you tell I’m not a food photographer?)
Taste is another powerful trigger. Just this week I bit into a black plum and was transported to my childhood backyard. We had five fruit trees—apricot, peach, tangelo, quince apple, and, yes, black plum. We would have so many plums we’d walk around the neighborhood and sell them by the bag. Forget lemonade stands. The plum tree was “mine,” and my sister had the apricot tree. My mother would make so many jars of plum and apricot preserves. That bite produced such a vivid memory I almost forgot to breathe.
And that’s why you want to include all the senses in your reading (and writing), not just touch, sight, and sound. It’s the visceral feeling readers crave.
So, do you have any memories associated with smell or taste?
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
One True Heart by Jodi Thomas
The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson
August 2, 2015
Five Reasons Why an Author Should Marry an Engineer
…In which I write a love letter, sort of, to Robot Guy.
Engineers are not necessarily known for romance (not generalizing here, just speaking from my perspective). They don’t get you flowers because die and there’s no real point to them. 
They don’t get you jewelry because they don’t see the value in a hunk of metal and some carbon. They might not even accept what I call the magic in writing–you know, that thing when you’ve already put the clues into your story for the big idea that hits you in the final third of the book? Or that other cool thing you did that you didn’t even know you did, but when you reread you amaze yourself?
But guys or gals like that are worth hanging on to for other, and I believe, more valuable reasons.
1. A good one believes in your dream and takes practical steps to support you. Case in point: Robot Guy read my early stuff and bought into my crazy dream from the start. And to prove it, he got me a cleaning service. He said, “I want you to be writing, not cleaning.” I understand such a step isn’t feasible for a lot of writers, but an engineer will figure something out: build a work station, set up your computer. Speaking of which…
2. When your computer goes wonky, most likely he can fix it. Engineers do all their work on computers these days and know a lot about them. What they don’t know, they Google and learn. Bonus reason: I have to worry more about a cool new computer program/game than another woman.
3. Engineers make a good living. Not that you don’t want to contribute to the household, or that you won’t, but personally the idea of being a starving artist does not appeal to me. I did the whole starving grad student thing. Don’t want to revisit it. It’s nice to know that the world won’t collapse with the next rejection.I know I am speaking from a position of luxury, but this blog is about me, and I warned you at the top that this is a love letter to Robot Guy.
4. They won’t buy you flowers, but they will buy you a modem. Funny story. Back in the waaaay early days of the Internet, Robot Guy bought me a modem for our anniversary. I had no idea what it was for. I am ashamed to say I took it back and got something else. I can’t remember what that something else was, but guess what I wanted a year later? So if you marry someone into technology, you will be ahead of the game.
5. They are the yin to your yang. It’s nice to have someone who balances you and grounds you. I can’t tell you the number of times Robot Guy has talked me off the ledge. Okay, fine, I have my logical side too, my sciency, mathy side, but I am off the charts airy-fairy when compared to Robot Guy. It works nicely for me.
These five points are my truth. Don’t write me and tell me your engineer cheats on you or made you write essays to justify spending money (yes, I know one who did just that. Not mine, however). What I’m really saying with this blog is that you need to find someone who will support you and your dreams, and cherish those dreams as if they were his or her own.
And it’s good to have a Robot Guy.
–Gabi
Books I’m reading now:
Armada by Ernest Cline
To Marry a Prince by Sophie Page
The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson
