Gabi Stevens's Blog, page 4

Little Known Fact About . . .

. . . Ever Yours.

My hero, Tamberlake is not named after Justin Timberlake, whether you believe that or not–the similarity didn’t occur to me until after the fact. Tamberlake��has a pet duck. His name is Humphrey. The duck is named after Humphrey Bogart. I don’t know why. But when the duck needed a name I thought of Humphrey Bogart. And by the time I tried to dimiss the thought, the name had stuck. Yes, that quickly. I still don’t know why a duck reminded me of Humphrey Bogart.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

The Tiger Queens by Stephanie Thorndike

The Glass Magician by Charlie N Holmberg

 

Little Known Fact …

…about The Falcon and the Wolf.

When I first started writing romance novels, my husband complained that the heroes were never engineers. So I made Gray an engineer. Okay, so he’s more of a medieval engineer than a modern one, but he’s an engineer nevertheless. In the book he designs a water delivery system — it’s really an Archimedes screw, but in that world there is no Archimedes.

��Stay tuned for more random facts about my books.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

The Tiger Queens by Stephanie Thornton

The Glass Magician by Charlie N Holmberg

 

On Having a Bad Hair Life

In which I look at the important things to complain about.

First world complaint here: I have never had a hairstyle I really like. Seriously. When I was itty-bitty, my hair was wispy and blonde. My uncle could never believe that my dark hair was natural because he remembered my light

Baby me, around two

locks from childhood.

To top off that lack of childhood coifability, my mother cut my hair, and when she didn���t, I still got that stick straight, chop off the ends look that a lot of children have. No long hair for me until I could brush it myself. So at the age of eight I started to grow it long. By the end of fifth grade (-ish), I had nice long ponytails.

And then came The Brady Bunch. You remember Carol Brady and her shag? Yup, I cut off all my hair in a desperate attempt to be hip and ended up looking, well, awful. Hard to go through sixth grade like that. By this time my hair was turning brown, dark brown. By ninth grade my hair was long again, but then came Dorothy Hamill. Once again, off came the length. Which presented��me with��a second problem���I had/have no talent for styling whatsoever.

Young me, about four/five

In high school, my hair fully dark brown now, a new twist (pun-you���ll see why in a moment) appeared. I would wear my hair simply pinned back from my face because hair in my face bugged me (Still does. You should see how I do my hair for volleyball). That left me able to see, but also allowed the length to hang. And in class I would grab��a lock and twirl it around my finger as I fidgeted. By the time I would walk out, I sported six inch long Shirley Temple curls because, unbeknownst to me, my hair now had lots of body.

College wasn���t any better. I still couldn���t style my own hair and I wasn���t patient enough to let my hair grow long enough to pull back into easy sophisticated ponytails. But I did meet my husband, and we did get married. I tried to get a perm for my wedding and it fell out in three days, so they repermed it two days before with strict instructions not to wash it until the wedding day. Yeah, that wasn���t so good either. I do not have pretty hair in my wedding pictures. But I did get married and the marriage seems to have stuck.

Pony tail me, the only time I had long hair, around ten

Through adulthood I really didn���t try to do much with my hair. It was wavy, unkempt, but clean and thick. Then about three years ago it went curly. I mean really curly. All I had to do was wash, put a little product in, scrunch, and let it dry. I had to curl a few pieces here and there to make it look really good, but I was in heaven. That lasted a year.

Now it is stick straight again. Don���t ask my why; I couldn���t answer. However, it holds curl really well. Unfortunately my skills with the curling iron and/or hairdryer and brush haven���t improved, so I look like a throwback to the eighties. See Beverly Goldberg to get an idea of what I mean, only my bangs are long and growing out.

I always pictured myself��as an old woman with grey hair in a long braid down my back. Doubt that will happen. I can���t braid my own hair. I can barely braid my youngest���s hair. Also,��I would have to grow it long to have that happen, and as I said above, I don���t have the patience.

Senior year Gabi, baby-sitting a faculty child at my boarding school.

So why this detour into hair? Because it���s apropos of life. Life hands you things that you must either fight or accept. It is wisdom that tells you which choice is best. My bad hair life hasn���t stopped me from being happy, or smart, or strive to better myself. I travel and let my hair go wild and learn things. I go to the pool, and I���m not afraid to dive under the water (Did your mothers also swim without dunking their heads, so they could save their dos?). Bad hair didn���t prevent me from raising three lovely women who add value to their communities. Bad hair doesn���t prevent me from being a badass on the volleyball courts (okay, so it���s the over 50 league, but I���m a badass). Yes, I would have loved to have had the good looks my sister had, but beauty is subjective anyway. Bad hair doesn���t prevent me from writing my stories and entertaining you. Fight for the things you can change, work on the things you can get better at. I suppose I could work on my hair skills, but I have more important things to accomplish.

 

At least I don���t have snakes on my head and turn people to stone.

–Gabi

 

Books I���m reading now:

The Duchess War by Courtney Milan

The Heiress Effect by Courtney Milan

The Diabolical Miss Hyde by Viola Carr

Storm Front by Jim Butcher

Part Two: Books that Changed My Life

I told you this would take more than one post. Here is part two.

So continuing with my list of books that changed my life, again in no particular order or preference:

The Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett���I know The Secret Garden is on everyone else���s list, but mine was Princess. It was so wonderfully tragic and melodramatic. I read and re-read this book a hundred times when I was a kid. It sparked my Anglophilia despite my Hungarian background.


Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell���This book had so many fascinating facts and ideas that spoke to me as truths. The 10,000 hours idea, the way gifted children are tested, the way they play hockey in Canada and Czechoslovakia. I quickly went out an bought his others books, Tipping Point and Blink. Funny thing is that the book belongs to my daughter and when she moved out so did the book. Come to think of it, I need to go to the bookstore. Be right back.


To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee���I didn���t read this book until I was an adult, and the first time I ���read��� it I was listening to it as an audiobook when I had to drive to Denver by myself. I only picked it up because it was one of those classics I had missed in my education. OH MY GOD. I was kicking myself by the time I arrived home. I loved the book. I went out the next day and bought myself a copy and read it (I didn���t feel right writing ���re-read it���). I have since taught the book and grown to love it even more, so much so that when my dog chewed up a brand new copy that I was teaching from, I kept it alongside my old falling-part copy.


The Lost Duke of Wyndham by Julia Quinn���This book along with Bewitching (see previous post) is the reason I believe Romance can be sublime. Again, it was the first book in a long time that made me laugh out loud and cry. A wonderful experience all around. I hope someday to put my readers through something like that in the books I write.


The Wizard of Oz and the Oz series by L. Frank Baum���The movie just doesn���t do it justice. It doesn���t. And the next books were better. I lived in Oz in elementary school. I remember reading Glenda of Oz on a camping trip with my best friend. We read by flashlight in our tent. It was an adventure to read an adventure. And it helped wake my love of fantasy.


And Then There Were None and The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie���I have always read mysteries starting with Encyclopedia Brown and Nancy Drew (Hmmm, they should make the list somewhere), but Dame Agatha is simply the queen. I have read many mysteries since reading her entire collection, but none have ever come close to the brilliance of Poirot, the hidden depths of Miss Marple, the spunk of Tommy and Tuppence, the other-worldiness of Harley Quin, and the ones that star no one in particular. A translation of one of her books was the first complete novel I read in Hungarian, and I have several German translations too. They got me through my year abroad and helped teach me the language at the same time. The Secret Adversary was the first book I downloaded on my Kindle too. Nobody does it better (whoops, wrong franchise).


Harry Potter Series by JK Rowling���Really? Do I need to say anything else? I���m working on reading it in my second language right now. I had as much fun with these as my twins who waited for their Hogwarts letters when they turned eleven.

Hmm, still not done with my list. How about some honorable mentions before one last big winner: Game of Thrones by George RR Martin (I should just write the Song of Fire and Ice series, but more people will recognize GoT); Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ���s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore; Ready Player One by Ernest Cline, the first book in a long time that had me completely engrossed; Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare���while technically a play, it meant so much to me as a teenager; I���m over it now, really, and my favorite Shakespeare is Taming of the Shrew, but R&J were the teenage thing; The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows; No, David by David Shannon, the first book that my youngest could really enjoy.

I suppose I should stop. There may be a part three in the future, or at leas a list of honorable mentions, but time to move on. But one last book first . . .

13 (And yes, I like the number thirteen). A Matter of Convenience by Gabriella Anderson���The first book I sold. It started me on this crazy, rollercoaster of a heartbreaking career that I don���t know why I still pursue. That���s a lie. It���s the stories. It���s always about the stories.

–Gabi

Books I���m reading now:

Harry Potter und der Gefangene von Aszkaban by J K Rowling

Books That Changed My Life

In which I examine the books that I carry with me inside. Not literally.

Melodramatic title, no? But I’ve been thinking about the books that changed my life in some way. So in no particular order, and in no way complete…

1. From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler by EL Konigsberg–This was the first book that I remembered the title and author of from when I was a child. ��I loved this book. I read it so many times. I wanted to be a runaway, except that I had no reason, but moreover I wanted a secret. I still haven’t run away, and I’m pretty short on secrets too, but I still think about this book with such fondness. As soon as my children were old enough, I bought them a copy to devour. I don’t know if they loved it as much as I did, but it stood the test of time. I loved reading it as an adult almost as much as when I was a child.

2. The Chronicles of Prydain by Llyod Alexander –My very first fantsy series if you don’t count the Grimms. And his was name I remembered as well. For whatever reason the double L at the beginning of his name fascinated me. But I digress. I don’t really remember the stories very much at all, but I do remember falling in love with magic and fantasy. I was very young when I read them and always intended to get back to them and never did. And the character Taran has always remained in my heart as the perfect hero even if I can’t remember what he did.

3. Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury–I didn’t read this until I was an adult. It was assigned to my eighth grade daughter as summer reading. She and her friends didn’t understand it, so they gave it to me to read and help them understand. I loved it. It is a series of vignettes connected by one summer in a boy’s life. They aren’t even his stories for the most part, but stories that affect him and help him grow. The next year, I got a job teaching at my daughter’s school and then��I taught��the book for the next seven years. I loved teaching this book. The Helen Loomis chapter made me cry every year, Col. Freeleigh made me want to live, and the Ravine sent chills down my spine. It is a book filled about��magic, and yet there isn’t anything supernatural in it. It is a book that affirms life like no other.

4. Bewitching by Jill Barnett–I had reached a rut in my reading about two decades ago (God, has it really been that long?) and then I came across this book. It was the first book that made me laugh out loud and then cry (real tears–it was pathetic) at the end in years. I was feeling like I had lost all my emotions and this book help me find them again. Now I cry at TV commercials.

Some (very few) of my favorite books–the ones that were close enough that I could take this pictures quickly.

5. I, Robot by Isaac Asimov–When I was a teenager, I swore I hated science fiction. Not for me, said I. And then in high school I had the chance to take the class that all the students said was the best English class my school offered. So I signed up for it, holding��little hope that I’d like the topic. Boy, was I wrong. It was the best English class, but I LOVED the science fiction. What the hell had I been thinking? This stuff was terrific. And Asimov’s book was probably my favorite of the ones we read (including Princess of Mars, Stars My Destination, Stranger in a Strange Land, The Martian Chronicles). I also taught this book to students, many of whom claimed they didn’t like science fiction either. Hahaha.

I didn’t realize when I started writing this blog that it was going to appear in parts. I have to continue because I still have a whole list of books that I haven’t mentioned yet.��So thus concludeth part the first.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

Harry Potter und der Gefangene von Azkaban by JK Rowling

 

Damn it. They were right.

In which I look at the sedentary world of writing and why you shouldn’t (Shouldn’t what? I’ll leave you to fill in that blank for yourself.)

If you know me, you know I play volleyball. I have since seventh grade, grumbledy-mumble years ago. My knees are shot. I went to��an orthopedist who said I have a choice: play volleyball now or hike with my grandkids later (no grandkids on the way yet or even close, just so you know.) Robot Guy, who also plays volleyball, said definitely play volleyball now. “We’ll get you robot knees when you need them.” So I’m playing volleyball now. In fact I’m on two teams. which means a lot of volleyball on the weekends. And I’m loving it.

Yes, that is Robot Guy playing (Number 17).

Now I’m a writer. We sit. We think. We write. Also the age thing has made me slower, and I’ve never been one to exercise, so I realized that I needed to do a little something extra so I wouldn’t be killing myself on the volleyball court. I started working out three times a week while Youngest is in her classes. It was convenient–the gym was right down the street from her classroom–and it was perfect timing. By the time I finished with my workout, I could whip out a notebook and write for the half an hour or so until she finished. And so far I’ve been pretty good at going.

Here’s the bad news. Although I haven’t lost a pound (eating right is a whole other story), I have noticed that my endurance on the court has gone way up. Damn it. It’s working, which means I can’t quit. I find exercise boring. At least on the volleyball court there’s competition. I thrive on competition, but on the elliptical it’s a fake competition with myself. Doesn’t work for me on a psychological level. Thank God the machines have TV. At least I can be distracted. A little. The day the cable went out at the gym was the worst.

So I’m off to work out. Yeah, yeah, don’t lecture me on how good it is for me. I’m not stupid. I know it’s the right thing to do. I’m doing it. But don’t expect me to stop grumbling about it either. (Razzaldy-hummbledy-brumble)

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

Harry Potter und der Gefangen von Azkaban by JK Rowling

To the Nay Sayers

In which I look at the denigration of genre fiction.

I met a woman once who asked me why romances could be so popular when they all told the same story. Oh, sure, some elements are the same–a man, a woman and a happy ending (and even that’s not necessarily true any more. The popularity of LGBTQ books is growing and welcome, as are erotica books)–but the journey is different in each. It’s what the characters learn on that journey and how they grow that make��every��story unique. She scoffed at my explanation and dismissed my notions as uninformed. I listened to her politely with a smile set on my face, then changed the subject. After all there’s no use arguing with someone who clearly had never read romance, had no intention of reading romance, yet has strong opinions on it.

All genre fiction tends to suffer from its reputation (although I would argue romance suffers��more than its fair share). Maybe because all genre fiction follows formulae and for some reason people think a formula means no creativity. Heck,��Joseph Campbell broke all stories down to one formula (the Hero’s Journey), which then Chirstopher Vogler laid out for writers in his best selling and fascinating book The Writer’s Journey. So it’s easy for pretentious people to dismiss entire genres of books as unoriginal or written by hacks. Those people are wrong. Yes, not all genres will appeal to everyone. I, for example, don’t like to read horror or police procedurals, but that’s a matter of taste, not a reflection of quality. I can look at the trailers for a film and know if I want to see it. A lot of times those are the films that end up winning the awards. I just don’t like that type, but as I said, that’s taste, not quality. I also don’t like red wine, black coffee, brandy, or much chocolate.

The more I think about why genre fiction is popular and why the some��or the populace regards it as less than literary, the more I realize it’s about how the books make you feel and the messages they send. Even within genre fiction there is some I don’t like to read. I dislike the heavy, angsty, emotional story. I love a good romp. I love a lighter tone. Even with a high body count, I love a lighter tone (Yes, such books exist. Death and destruction with a light tone. My favorite.). It doesn’t mean that serious events don’t occur in the story; it just means I don’t need to take Xanax when I’ve finished the story. I have read some of what is called literary fiction��that has made me want to��gauge my eyes out after slitting my wrists. I like the romps, the adventures, the humor, the uplifting endings (doesn’t mean not sad; that means that the human spirit wins at the end. Heck, I cried at the end of Guardians of the Galaxy. And Toy Story 3. Sobbed at that one.). It’s about how I felt as I read the story.

And��the message. Stephen King once said that genre fiction was the place where values are tested for society to ponder��(Or something like that. I tried to find the real quote with no success.). I agree with him. Genre fiction is where the protagonists��face circumstances that test their beliefs. If they choose rightly, they are heroes. If not, they become tragic victims. This idea is pervasive in our modern culture: “You underestimate the power of the Dark Side”; “It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities”;���The thing about a hero, is even when it doesn’t look like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, he’s going to keep digging, he’s going to keep trying to do right and make up for what’s gone before, just because that’s who he is.��� ��(That last one is Joss Whedon, in case you didn’t recognize it)

I like heroes. And villains for those heroes to fight against. Because I want to leave a story cheering, even if I’m crying. And in real life I like the heroes who do the right thing daily without fanfare or capes or parades or even fighting.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

How Few Remain by Harry Turtledove

Harry Potter und der Gefangene von Azkaban by JK Rowling

 

The Elephant in the Room

Just because I have written Romance, why would you think I have an opinion on Fifty Shades of Grey?

I know the phenomenon that has hit the big screens this weekend. I remember it when it hit the book shelves a couple of years ago. I can’t give you an opinion on it. Why? Because I have neither read it nor seen it, and I have no plans to change that status any time soon. Usually when a book hit phenomenon stage I will pick it up. I figure that’s my job as a writer. I need to be familiar with the phenomena. That’s why I first picked up Harry Potter (back when there were only two books out there). I became a huge fan. Yes, sometimes the run-ons bothered me, but the book was so much more than that. I became one of those people who lined up at midnight to get the next volume. (Thank God I had children so I could use them as an excuse. I even made them dress up for one.) That’s why I read TheDaVinci Code (loved the concept, hated the execution). I read The Hunger Games for the same reason. And Twilight. ��And then came Fifty Shades.

My Harry Potter Shelf–books in German and English

I didn’t read it, and I won’t. And here are the three reasons I won’t:

First, it’s just not my thing. Yes, I read and write romance, but BDSM is not my thing (I have a friend who calls herself the queen of vanilla sex. If she’s the queen, then I’m the empress.). Neither is erotica. I won’t read it. Sorry. I know I’ve excluded a lot of books from my reading list with that pronouncement, but I don’t enjoy it, so why should I subject myself to it? I will fight for your right to read and write anything you want, but in the same way, you shouldn’t force me to read something I don’t want.

Second, I’ve heard, and, mind you, this is not my opinion because I can’t give one, never having have read it, that the writing is terrible. Not just bad. Worse. This from reliable sources, friends, people I respect. My nerves become tied up in knots when I read bad writing, so I don’t want to put myself through that.

Third, I know it started as fan fiction for Twilight, and I’ve read (and seen–talk to me about the things I will do for my youngest daughter) that book. I am a fan of plot. I reached page 295 (or so) of the novel and yelled out, “Finally, something happens.” I know there are people who loved Twilight, but I wasn’t one of them. I like action, movement, not self-reflection or self-awareness. I read far too many books where the characters have so much angst and carry so much baggage I don’t believe in the happy ending. I don’t enjoy books that have so much introspection that I need therapy afterward. Thus if Fifty is basically Twilight with a twist, I don’t need to read it.

And there you have it. I truly don’t like to give an opinion on something I haven’t judged for myself. I know what you’re thinking: For not having an opinion, I sure can��write a lot of words about it. I truly can’t say Fifty Shades is terrible or trite or wrong or abusive or mommy porn or whatever the heck else has been said about it, but I can say I won’t be finding out first hand.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

Just about to start How Few Remain by Harry Turtledove. Still have a few more chapters to go in my last RITA book.

Insanity…

…thy name is author. In which I look at the crazy ways being a writer is, well, nuts.

If you sit down to think about it, being a writer is truly absurd. Gone is any hope of a sensible view of the world. In which other occupation can the words “good rejection” make sense? Who else but a writer would read the names of two towns on a billboard–Sylvana and Arlington–and think, “Aha. The names of my next protagonists” ? ��And whatever happened to the guilt you’re supposed to feel at eavesdropping rather than the frantic search for a scrap of paper on which to write that perfect turn of phrase ��overheard in line at the supermarket��or to record the plot point that jumped into your head?

Despite the turn to technology, I still have reams of paper sitting around my house, some blank, some filled with hundreds of thousands of words (that is NOT an exaggeration) that have either made me giddy or filled me with despair. I have more pens in my purse than a receptionists desk at a medical clinic, more empty journals than lifetimes to fill them. I have a huge dictionary that I keep close by my side for reference, and more bookshelves than a classroom and they are still too full to fit all the books I own, so I have huge plastic containers in the garage also filled with books.

And don’t think I’m lacking in the technology either. I have a desktop, a laptop, a tablet, a smart phone, more writing programs than fingers, an e-reader, headphones, microphone, cameras, and yet I still like doing my first drafts in long hand.

Everything I watch or hear is possible source of inspiration. True story. I saw a segment on TV about a man who found an injured owl. One of the owl’s wings had to be amputated. The man cared for the owl as best he could and the owl recovered, but, of course, couldn’t fly. When the man realized that the owl missed flight, he strapped on roller blades, perched the owl on his shoulder, and skated along the lakefront in Chicago. The owl would lean into the wind and pretend he was flying again. The man lost fifty pounds too. This story became THE SEA EAGLE, except for the fifty pounds. I don’t do diet books.

Family is inspiration too. Robot Guy once said, “Engineers are never heroes in romance novels. Why don’t you write one with an engineer as a hero?” So I did: THE FALCON AND THE WOLF. Okay, so there’s also magic in that story, but why quibble over the details. And having a child with special needs became the inspiration for two special characters in AS YOU WISH. That one has magic too, but, hey, I’m writing fiction, not memoir.

Once I was out walking with Robot Guy and a plane flew overhead. I looked up and my immediate thought was, “If it blew up right now, could I run away from the debris field?” So I asked him. He just looked at me and said, “Is that really what goes through you head?”

Yup. It really is.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

Still can’t tell you, but when I get back to regular reading, you’ll find my choices here.

 

Just For the Fun of It

How many times have you picked up a book by an author you’ve never read before and by the end of the first page you know you’re going to love the journey you’ve embarked upon? It’s a magical and miraculous moment. You’re ready to go wherever the author leads you. Why do you think storytellers have been revered throughout the ages, accorded high esteem and regard, and treasured as no other members of society? Think of the many words you find��that mean storyteller: bard, ;minstrel, troubadour, yarn spinner, fabler, novelist, narrator writer, dramatist,historian, orator, skald, author. Think of the cultures��that are known through their stories: Greek myths, German fairy tales, Elizabethan England (Shakespeare), Marvel Comics.

Harrison Ford once gave and interview where he was asked if he regretted not playing critically acclaimed roles rather than the money makers. Mr. Ford’s unapologetic answer was that his goal was to entertain. If he achieved acclaim, that was fine, but he wanted people to like his movies. What struck me most was the nobility of his goal. He wanted to entertain. He didn’t try to claim his work was earth shattering or would change the course of history; he simply wanted to��entertain. I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but the idea of giving people something to take them away from their own lives and everyday problems, if only for a little while, is a goal worth pursuing.

And it comes down to the story and its telling.

I want the power to take people to other worlds. I want the power to make people laugh or cry. I want to be a story teller with all the responsibilities the job��carries. I want to entertain.

–Gabi

Books I’m reading now:

Still can’t tell you because I’m judging for the RITAs. I did watch FANBOYS the other night. That was fun.