L.M. Pruitt's Blog, page 16
December 16, 2011
Food Friday: Why I Don't Play With Turkeys
The holiday season is upon us--or rather it continues to be upon us. Everybody has their own special holiday dinner--for some it's ham, for others it's cornish hen, but for most, it's turkey.
Folks--I don't play with turkeys.
Let me explain.
I'm one of those people with absolutely weird hangups. I'll admit it freely. I don't like to touch silverware unless I'm using it to eat, doesn't matter whether it's clean or not. Anything with a numerical volume, I have to have on an increment of five. And most importantly, at least for the purposes of this blog, I really don't like to touch raw meat. I mean, I can do it for short periods of time--but there's a reason I don't really do meals like meat loaf or even hamburgers. I don't like raw meat on my hands.
You might begin to see part of what the problem with a turkey is.
Still, about three years ago, I decided that it was time to host Thanksgiving for my family at my place. It'd be a small crowd--no more than about ten--and i decided it was past time to get over my childish disgust with raw meat. So I bought the turkey, discusssed cooking and everything with my mom, and proceeded to begin the time honored tradition of turkey roasting.
Small problem: I couldn't find the innard bag.
I rooted around inside the body cavity for a good ten minutes. Ran water through, flushed it from both ends. Nothing. I could not find the damn bag. Now, part of me wanted to just let it go: "Hey, maybe I got lucky and they just forgot it." But I knew, with the sixth sense of disaster prone people, that this was just asking for trouble.
So I did what every desperate cook throughout history has done: I called my mother.
Of course, she didn't believe me. She knows about my little idiosyncracy, and while she finds it amusing, she also things I tend to exaggerate. Which I do, but not about raw meat. So after a good ten minutes on the phone, with her talking me through where I should be looking, she finally just tells me to hold on and she'll be over in a few minutes.
Yes. Twenty-six years old, I have to get my mother to come help me with a turkey. And I feel no shame about this. Nonewhatsoever.
Upon her arrival, she washes her hands, examines the turkey, and with the ease of someone who does NOT have a raw meat hatred, shoved her hand right in. After ten minutes or so, she looks at me and says, "It's not in here."
Really. You don't say.
She keeps looking, although at this point she's just as puzzled as I am. Finally, she starts peeling the skin back, not off, just back, and begins looking under there. And lo and behold, she finds the damn bag. She proceeds to tell me that in all her years of turkey cooking, she's never had that happen.
Fabulous.
The turkey ended up coming out just fine, well enough that I convinced myself it was a one time fluke. So the next year when I had a Thanksgiving party/dinner for people at work who couldn't get home for the holiday, I not only volunteered to host, but to make the turkey.
I found the innard bag on the first try this time. Unfortunately, the bag broke in my hand. Liver, gizzards, and other things I don't want to think about flooded my palm, slithered down the garbage disposal. When I called my mother in hysterics, yes, hysterics, she told me that, again, she'd never had that happen.
Clearly, I'm cursed.
So I don't do turkey for holidays anymore. I do a nice, presliced ham, with a cajun brown sugar glaze. I leave the turkey for the experts.
And the people who don't mind their hands in raw meat.
Folks--I don't play with turkeys.
Let me explain.
I'm one of those people with absolutely weird hangups. I'll admit it freely. I don't like to touch silverware unless I'm using it to eat, doesn't matter whether it's clean or not. Anything with a numerical volume, I have to have on an increment of five. And most importantly, at least for the purposes of this blog, I really don't like to touch raw meat. I mean, I can do it for short periods of time--but there's a reason I don't really do meals like meat loaf or even hamburgers. I don't like raw meat on my hands.
You might begin to see part of what the problem with a turkey is.
Still, about three years ago, I decided that it was time to host Thanksgiving for my family at my place. It'd be a small crowd--no more than about ten--and i decided it was past time to get over my childish disgust with raw meat. So I bought the turkey, discusssed cooking and everything with my mom, and proceeded to begin the time honored tradition of turkey roasting.
Small problem: I couldn't find the innard bag.
I rooted around inside the body cavity for a good ten minutes. Ran water through, flushed it from both ends. Nothing. I could not find the damn bag. Now, part of me wanted to just let it go: "Hey, maybe I got lucky and they just forgot it." But I knew, with the sixth sense of disaster prone people, that this was just asking for trouble.
So I did what every desperate cook throughout history has done: I called my mother.
Of course, she didn't believe me. She knows about my little idiosyncracy, and while she finds it amusing, she also things I tend to exaggerate. Which I do, but not about raw meat. So after a good ten minutes on the phone, with her talking me through where I should be looking, she finally just tells me to hold on and she'll be over in a few minutes.
Yes. Twenty-six years old, I have to get my mother to come help me with a turkey. And I feel no shame about this. Nonewhatsoever.
Upon her arrival, she washes her hands, examines the turkey, and with the ease of someone who does NOT have a raw meat hatred, shoved her hand right in. After ten minutes or so, she looks at me and says, "It's not in here."
Really. You don't say.
She keeps looking, although at this point she's just as puzzled as I am. Finally, she starts peeling the skin back, not off, just back, and begins looking under there. And lo and behold, she finds the damn bag. She proceeds to tell me that in all her years of turkey cooking, she's never had that happen.
Fabulous.
The turkey ended up coming out just fine, well enough that I convinced myself it was a one time fluke. So the next year when I had a Thanksgiving party/dinner for people at work who couldn't get home for the holiday, I not only volunteered to host, but to make the turkey.
I found the innard bag on the first try this time. Unfortunately, the bag broke in my hand. Liver, gizzards, and other things I don't want to think about flooded my palm, slithered down the garbage disposal. When I called my mother in hysterics, yes, hysterics, she told me that, again, she'd never had that happen.
Clearly, I'm cursed.
So I don't do turkey for holidays anymore. I do a nice, presliced ham, with a cajun brown sugar glaze. I leave the turkey for the experts.
And the people who don't mind their hands in raw meat.
December 15, 2011
Bonus Post: The Ten Things I've Learned From Horror Movies
One of my favorite genres is the horror genre, whether the movie is good or bad. Nine times out of ten, you can take something away, even if it's corny and stupid.
So, in no particular order...Ten Things I've Learned From Horror Movies
1. Video cameras are ALWAYS a bad idea. Do you really need to know what's going on in your house at night? I mean, are things being broken, stolen, anything like that? If not, just let it go. Doubt me? Uh, hello Paranormal Activity series. And please, if you're going on some kind of covert assignment, don't take one. Again, doubt me? Quaratine.
2. If you're not sure whether or not you locked the doors and windows--don't check. Yes, I just told you to not check. Why? Because if you do, one of two things will happen. Either you'll find one open, and will freak out and draw attention to yourself, thus making the crazy person's job easier. Or, you'll find you did in fact lock everything, but sometime during the course of your distracted wandering through the house, the crazy person still managed to sneak in. And you're still dead.
3. If the phone rings, you answer it, and you don't know the person on the other end with the spooky voice--you're probably going to die. Soon. Exceptions to this can be seen in Scream and so on, but generally speaking, scary voice, creepy phone call, you're screwed.
4.If you're female, do NOT share a dorm room/apartment/house/bus/car with another female. What's that, you say? I'm being ridiculous? Let's take a look at what happens to nice, normal girls who decide to not live alone. My evidence: The Roommate. Scream 2. Single White Female. Decide to share a car/vehicle? Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Wrong Turn. Last House on the Left. The Hills Have Eyes. I think I've given enough examples.
5. That virgin thing? Out the window. Yep. Thank you, reboots/remakes/new material. We've now entered the era where giving it up does not, in fact, make you the "bad" girl in a movie. As a matter of fact, there are a number of "good" girls who save the goods and still bite the dust. Case in point: Penelope from My Soul to Take.
6. Speaking of giving it up, guys--do NOT be a douchebag and cheat on your girl. The chances are good that you're going to die at some point, and while it won't necessarily be because you cheated, at least in the movie, the chances are good. And when you die, it will not be pretty. Take a look at the boyfriend in Scream 4. Ouch.
7. Any major event in your life is the perfect time for a bloodbath. Birthdays, anniversaries, school dances...you have to be super vigilant. Prom Night, Cabin Fever 2 (which, coincidentally, did not involve a cabin at all), My Soul to Take, Scream, Sorority Row. And here you always thought just going to the event was a huge deal--surviving was the best part.
8. Possession is way more common than people think. I mean, Jesus. Everytime you turn around, someone's soul is in danger. Again, I point to My Soul to Take. I know there are other examples, I just happen to be watching it right now, so I'm kind of drawing a blank on others.
9. Speaking of souls, they are always up for flippin' grabs. Car wreck? Soul Survivors. Piss off a bank client? Drag Me to Hell. Have the poor luck to be born on top of a burial ground that didn't get moved when it should have? Poltergeist. Born in a town worshipping Satan and sacrificing their second children because they're annoyed with God? The Reaping. Go out to salvage a ship that hasn't turned up on the open ocean in years? Ghost Ship.
10. The only way to keep a secret is to make sure everyone involved is dead. Seriously. If you kill someone, witnessed a crime, committed some other kind of crime, and you had more than yourself involved, at some point there will be a blood bath taking out the other participants. I KnowWhat You Did Last Summer, Sorority Row, House on Haunted Hill. Okay, the last one wasn't really a secret-thing, but since the people who died didn't know, it kind of was. The point is: if you're going to go felonious, do it solo.
So, in no particular order...Ten Things I've Learned From Horror Movies
1. Video cameras are ALWAYS a bad idea. Do you really need to know what's going on in your house at night? I mean, are things being broken, stolen, anything like that? If not, just let it go. Doubt me? Uh, hello Paranormal Activity series. And please, if you're going on some kind of covert assignment, don't take one. Again, doubt me? Quaratine.
2. If you're not sure whether or not you locked the doors and windows--don't check. Yes, I just told you to not check. Why? Because if you do, one of two things will happen. Either you'll find one open, and will freak out and draw attention to yourself, thus making the crazy person's job easier. Or, you'll find you did in fact lock everything, but sometime during the course of your distracted wandering through the house, the crazy person still managed to sneak in. And you're still dead.
3. If the phone rings, you answer it, and you don't know the person on the other end with the spooky voice--you're probably going to die. Soon. Exceptions to this can be seen in Scream and so on, but generally speaking, scary voice, creepy phone call, you're screwed.
4.If you're female, do NOT share a dorm room/apartment/house/bus/car with another female. What's that, you say? I'm being ridiculous? Let's take a look at what happens to nice, normal girls who decide to not live alone. My evidence: The Roommate. Scream 2. Single White Female. Decide to share a car/vehicle? Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Wrong Turn. Last House on the Left. The Hills Have Eyes. I think I've given enough examples.
5. That virgin thing? Out the window. Yep. Thank you, reboots/remakes/new material. We've now entered the era where giving it up does not, in fact, make you the "bad" girl in a movie. As a matter of fact, there are a number of "good" girls who save the goods and still bite the dust. Case in point: Penelope from My Soul to Take.
6. Speaking of giving it up, guys--do NOT be a douchebag and cheat on your girl. The chances are good that you're going to die at some point, and while it won't necessarily be because you cheated, at least in the movie, the chances are good. And when you die, it will not be pretty. Take a look at the boyfriend in Scream 4. Ouch.
7. Any major event in your life is the perfect time for a bloodbath. Birthdays, anniversaries, school dances...you have to be super vigilant. Prom Night, Cabin Fever 2 (which, coincidentally, did not involve a cabin at all), My Soul to Take, Scream, Sorority Row. And here you always thought just going to the event was a huge deal--surviving was the best part.
8. Possession is way more common than people think. I mean, Jesus. Everytime you turn around, someone's soul is in danger. Again, I point to My Soul to Take. I know there are other examples, I just happen to be watching it right now, so I'm kind of drawing a blank on others.
9. Speaking of souls, they are always up for flippin' grabs. Car wreck? Soul Survivors. Piss off a bank client? Drag Me to Hell. Have the poor luck to be born on top of a burial ground that didn't get moved when it should have? Poltergeist. Born in a town worshipping Satan and sacrificing their second children because they're annoyed with God? The Reaping. Go out to salvage a ship that hasn't turned up on the open ocean in years? Ghost Ship.
10. The only way to keep a secret is to make sure everyone involved is dead. Seriously. If you kill someone, witnessed a crime, committed some other kind of crime, and you had more than yourself involved, at some point there will be a blood bath taking out the other participants. I KnowWhat You Did Last Summer, Sorority Row, House on Haunted Hill. Okay, the last one wasn't really a secret-thing, but since the people who died didn't know, it kind of was. The point is: if you're going to go felonious, do it solo.
Random Thursday--I Have Returned!
You may have noticed the lack of posts this week. Well, this would be because techonology hated me this week. Absolutely. Totally. Hated me.
First, my laptop died. So, I went and got a desktop. I planned to do it anyway, just not quite right this second. Great, yes, but I still can't get my iTunes to switch over properly, so that has me annoyed.
Then, my internet went out. All of it. The actual dial-up, the wireless, everything. So that was a big reason for why I wasn't online except via the phone. By the way, thank you once again, late Steve Jobs for creating an awesome product. I got it fixed last night, at Eight Flippin' Thirty because Comcast thinks nobody has anything to do at night besides wait for them.
Ugh. Like I said, techology has hated me this week.
So, in an effort to make up for lost posts, I'll be doing a second one later today inspired by a post I spotted last week by Jack Wallen--The Ten Things I Learned From Horror Movies. And tomorrow, I promise, there will be a food blog. And, there might even be a surprise blog on Saturday--I'm still not sure. It will depend on how tired I am.
So, look for all those things in the very near future.
First, my laptop died. So, I went and got a desktop. I planned to do it anyway, just not quite right this second. Great, yes, but I still can't get my iTunes to switch over properly, so that has me annoyed.
Then, my internet went out. All of it. The actual dial-up, the wireless, everything. So that was a big reason for why I wasn't online except via the phone. By the way, thank you once again, late Steve Jobs for creating an awesome product. I got it fixed last night, at Eight Flippin' Thirty because Comcast thinks nobody has anything to do at night besides wait for them.
Ugh. Like I said, techology has hated me this week.
So, in an effort to make up for lost posts, I'll be doing a second one later today inspired by a post I spotted last week by Jack Wallen--The Ten Things I Learned From Horror Movies. And tomorrow, I promise, there will be a food blog. And, there might even be a surprise blog on Saturday--I'm still not sure. It will depend on how tired I am.
So, look for all those things in the very near future.
December 12, 2011
Media Monday--Damn you, Urban Spoon
I promise you, that headline makes sense.
On Saturday, I did what I normally do. I came home from work, and despite my best efforts, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I fiddled around for a little bit, not hungry enough to go to the trouble of making a full meal, but at the same just hungry enough to eat. So, I made myself a salad, and sat down to do a little research for my trip in March.
I came across the name of a restaurant that sounded interesting. I thought to myself--"Hmm. Let me check this out on Urban Spoon."
I did. And I got a virus.
You can imagine my annoyance.
Thankfully, I managed to pull everything important off my laptop, including music, pictures and various works. And then I went out and bought/rent to owen-ed a desktop. It's pretty cool. I'm going to have to get used to it, but it's still pretty cool.
I still have my laptop, and theoretically it found a restore point. I'm still convinced there's something on it, so when I can I'll get it cleaned up. But for now--damn you, Urban Spoon.
On Saturday, I did what I normally do. I came home from work, and despite my best efforts, I fell asleep. When I woke up, I fiddled around for a little bit, not hungry enough to go to the trouble of making a full meal, but at the same just hungry enough to eat. So, I made myself a salad, and sat down to do a little research for my trip in March.
I came across the name of a restaurant that sounded interesting. I thought to myself--"Hmm. Let me check this out on Urban Spoon."
I did. And I got a virus.
You can imagine my annoyance.
Thankfully, I managed to pull everything important off my laptop, including music, pictures and various works. And then I went out and bought/rent to owen-ed a desktop. It's pretty cool. I'm going to have to get used to it, but it's still pretty cool.
I still have my laptop, and theoretically it found a restore point. I'm still convinced there's something on it, so when I can I'll get it cleaned up. But for now--damn you, Urban Spoon.
December 8, 2011
Random Thursday!
Yes, it's the time of week where I round up the bits of random in my life and try and put them into some sort of order. This week, the random things running through my mind:
I need new shoes. For once, this is not the cry of a woman feeling neglected. I need new shoes for work, which is kind of boring and stupid, because I'll have to buy another pair in a year, since no one has yet to make a pair of slip-resistant shoes that can last for more than a year. I also need a pair of black riding-style boots, so I can walk around New York in March and not lose my feet.
I'm going to New York solo. Yes, my first time on a plane, first time in New York, and I'm going by myself. My mother is insisting I call her everyday. I've reminded her I'll be three months away from turning thirty. She does not care. Considering the fact that she's the type of woman who would somehow convince NYPD to break down my hotel room door if I didn't call, I think I'll be calling everyday.
My work/writing schedule may end up killing me next year. I'll be releasing a total of six books. I'll be writing closer to a dozen. Clearly, I both love you guys and am a sucker for punishment.
The book tour for Taken: A Frankie Post Novel is scheduled to run December 27-January 16. I'm touring once again with The Bookish Snob Promotions. I'll keep everyone updated as the kickoff date gets closer. I will tell you that there will be a abso-freakin'-lutely amazing final giveaway. Even better than the last one. And speaking of giveaways....
Starting next week, I'll be giving away copies of Taken as part of a 12 Days of Christmas promotion. Yes, that's right. The kickoff will start on the 12 with 12 copies of Taken up for grabs. Each day, the number of copies will go down, until Christmas Eve when you get a single shot. So, stay tuned, be prepared, all that jazz.
And now, I'm off to check Yahoo! news, then write a super hot sex scene while sitting in a restaurant. Because that's how I roll.
I need new shoes. For once, this is not the cry of a woman feeling neglected. I need new shoes for work, which is kind of boring and stupid, because I'll have to buy another pair in a year, since no one has yet to make a pair of slip-resistant shoes that can last for more than a year. I also need a pair of black riding-style boots, so I can walk around New York in March and not lose my feet.
I'm going to New York solo. Yes, my first time on a plane, first time in New York, and I'm going by myself. My mother is insisting I call her everyday. I've reminded her I'll be three months away from turning thirty. She does not care. Considering the fact that she's the type of woman who would somehow convince NYPD to break down my hotel room door if I didn't call, I think I'll be calling everyday.
My work/writing schedule may end up killing me next year. I'll be releasing a total of six books. I'll be writing closer to a dozen. Clearly, I both love you guys and am a sucker for punishment.
The book tour for Taken: A Frankie Post Novel is scheduled to run December 27-January 16. I'm touring once again with The Bookish Snob Promotions. I'll keep everyone updated as the kickoff date gets closer. I will tell you that there will be a abso-freakin'-lutely amazing final giveaway. Even better than the last one. And speaking of giveaways....
Starting next week, I'll be giving away copies of Taken as part of a 12 Days of Christmas promotion. Yes, that's right. The kickoff will start on the 12 with 12 copies of Taken up for grabs. Each day, the number of copies will go down, until Christmas Eve when you get a single shot. So, stay tuned, be prepared, all that jazz.
And now, I'm off to check Yahoo! news, then write a super hot sex scene while sitting in a restaurant. Because that's how I roll.
December 7, 2011
Writing Wednesday!--The Good and the Great
So, amazing news first (yes, I know I didn't mention amazing, but that would have thrown off the alliteration--and look, now I'm rhyming--geez)--Shades of Desire is with the editor. Yes, that means that within two months, the next Jude Magdalyn will be available for Kindle and Nook. Can I get an amen? Yes, yes I think I can.
On to the great news--I'm back online with Harvest Moon Rising. I've discovered that while I can write two different books at the same time, I cannot edit and write at the same time. One more unique oddity of mine. So, all things being equal, Harvest Moon Rising will be available in April 2012. I'll keep you updated, and you'll probably start seeing excerpts toward the end of January.
And finally, the good news--I've worked out my writing schedule so you'll get not only the re-release of Shades of Desire this year (meaning 2012), you'll also get TWO brand new Jude Magdalyn novels. In addition, you'll have Harvest Moon Rising, and the second Frankie book, Borrowed. Why the overload?
2013 will be devoted to one series, from start to finish. Six books, released every nine weeks, starting in February and ending December. And this series promises to be AWESOME.
(Yes, I totally had to bold and caplock. Because it will be AWESOME)
On to the great news--I'm back online with Harvest Moon Rising. I've discovered that while I can write two different books at the same time, I cannot edit and write at the same time. One more unique oddity of mine. So, all things being equal, Harvest Moon Rising will be available in April 2012. I'll keep you updated, and you'll probably start seeing excerpts toward the end of January.
And finally, the good news--I've worked out my writing schedule so you'll get not only the re-release of Shades of Desire this year (meaning 2012), you'll also get TWO brand new Jude Magdalyn novels. In addition, you'll have Harvest Moon Rising, and the second Frankie book, Borrowed. Why the overload?
2013 will be devoted to one series, from start to finish. Six books, released every nine weeks, starting in February and ending December. And this series promises to be AWESOME.
(Yes, I totally had to bold and caplock. Because it will be AWESOME)
December 6, 2011
The Tuesday Buildup!--Vampires in the Attic
As promised, I'm sharing some of the inspiration for Shades of Desire this week. It's something of an interesting story, so everybody sit down, buckle up, make sure your seatbacks and trays are in the upright position, and let's get this party started!
Way back when Louisiana was just swamp, or at least moreso than it is today, the original colonizers, aka the French, were having a time an a half getting people over there, and with good reason. If you went to the city of New Orleans--which pretty much was Louisiana--chances were good you would either die of disease, be killed in an Indian raid, or you'd take a wrong turn, wind up in the swamp and get munched on by a gator.
So, what's a nation with imperialistic leanings to do? Well, if said nation also had a very healthy prison population, the easiest and most efficient way to colonize the city was to offer the inmates a deal. Go to this New World, work, live, yada yada, all as a free individual, or you can sit in the Bastille and rot.
You'd be surprised how many people suddenly felt the urge to find out what a swamp looks like.
Well, this worked for a bit. Kind of. The only problem was the women. Yeah, yeah, it's always got to be something. The problem with sending over a bunch of loose women? They tend to run around. And in the case of the women from France, they tended to run off with the Indians. Hey, I get it. Why hang around with some low life louts in a dirty, disease ridden city, when you can start a new life--again--with some not so savage individuals.
Anyway, this did not make the men happy. It actually made them unproductive as well. Which did not make the King of France happy. Big condundrum, right? The women in prison weren't getting the job done. And no way in heck the nobility was going over under those circumstances.
Enter the merchant class. For the promise of a "respectable" marriage, complete with dowry, middle class families were lured into sending their young daughters to the New World. This totally would have worked, God bless their souls. If the ship hadn't made a stop before New Orleans. There, these gently bred girls were informed of what truly awaited them further down river.
Not one of them felt like continuing the journey. Funny.
So, the big day comes. All the men from New Orleans lucky enough to be picked in the wife lottery are waiting at the docks, hyped up and eager for their blushing brides to disembark. Nothing. Like I said, not one girl made the trek to New Orleans. The men, beyond disappointed, eventually left the dock.
Now, some of you may be thinking--"I have not heard one thing about a vampire. What's the deal here, man?" Hold your water. I'm getting there.
Now, the girls didn't reach their final stop. But their luggage did. And for whatever reason--draw the conclusion you choose--their belongings had been shipped over in long, rectangular wooden boxes bearing a marked similarity to caskets. Hence the nicknames of the girl, even to this day--Casket Girls.
Their luggage sat on the docks. And sat. And sat. And sat some more. Finally, the nuns of the Ursaline Convent took it back to the convent, placing it in the third story attic. The attic that no one is allowed to enter. The attic that for over two centuries has had the shutters opened one time--and in that case, the shutters were kicked off from the inside. When the shutters were replaced, a bishop was flown in from the Vatican to bless the nails.
You get three guesses what a lot of residents of New Orleans say is in those caskets in the attic. And it ain't linens and lace.
Are you creeped out yet? Maybe? Well, I'll save the really nutso stuff for a later date. Next week, we're having a sit-down with one of the newest characters in the Jude Magdalyn series, Detective Rhett Duprees. Make sure to check back.
Happy reading, guys!
Way back when Louisiana was just swamp, or at least moreso than it is today, the original colonizers, aka the French, were having a time an a half getting people over there, and with good reason. If you went to the city of New Orleans--which pretty much was Louisiana--chances were good you would either die of disease, be killed in an Indian raid, or you'd take a wrong turn, wind up in the swamp and get munched on by a gator.
So, what's a nation with imperialistic leanings to do? Well, if said nation also had a very healthy prison population, the easiest and most efficient way to colonize the city was to offer the inmates a deal. Go to this New World, work, live, yada yada, all as a free individual, or you can sit in the Bastille and rot.
You'd be surprised how many people suddenly felt the urge to find out what a swamp looks like.
Well, this worked for a bit. Kind of. The only problem was the women. Yeah, yeah, it's always got to be something. The problem with sending over a bunch of loose women? They tend to run around. And in the case of the women from France, they tended to run off with the Indians. Hey, I get it. Why hang around with some low life louts in a dirty, disease ridden city, when you can start a new life--again--with some not so savage individuals.
Anyway, this did not make the men happy. It actually made them unproductive as well. Which did not make the King of France happy. Big condundrum, right? The women in prison weren't getting the job done. And no way in heck the nobility was going over under those circumstances.
Enter the merchant class. For the promise of a "respectable" marriage, complete with dowry, middle class families were lured into sending their young daughters to the New World. This totally would have worked, God bless their souls. If the ship hadn't made a stop before New Orleans. There, these gently bred girls were informed of what truly awaited them further down river.
Not one of them felt like continuing the journey. Funny.
So, the big day comes. All the men from New Orleans lucky enough to be picked in the wife lottery are waiting at the docks, hyped up and eager for their blushing brides to disembark. Nothing. Like I said, not one girl made the trek to New Orleans. The men, beyond disappointed, eventually left the dock.
Now, some of you may be thinking--"I have not heard one thing about a vampire. What's the deal here, man?" Hold your water. I'm getting there.
Now, the girls didn't reach their final stop. But their luggage did. And for whatever reason--draw the conclusion you choose--their belongings had been shipped over in long, rectangular wooden boxes bearing a marked similarity to caskets. Hence the nicknames of the girl, even to this day--Casket Girls.
Their luggage sat on the docks. And sat. And sat. And sat some more. Finally, the nuns of the Ursaline Convent took it back to the convent, placing it in the third story attic. The attic that no one is allowed to enter. The attic that for over two centuries has had the shutters opened one time--and in that case, the shutters were kicked off from the inside. When the shutters were replaced, a bishop was flown in from the Vatican to bless the nails.
You get three guesses what a lot of residents of New Orleans say is in those caskets in the attic. And it ain't linens and lace.
Are you creeped out yet? Maybe? Well, I'll save the really nutso stuff for a later date. Next week, we're having a sit-down with one of the newest characters in the Jude Magdalyn series, Detective Rhett Duprees. Make sure to check back.
Happy reading, guys!
December 1, 2011
Random Thursday!
Today's bits of randomness:
I have to steal a vacuum cleaner. Not entirely. I have to clean my house, and do some serious vacuuming, butt I have no vacuum, nor a way to purchase one. So, I'm borrowing one from my job. I'll bring it back tomorrow, and I doubt I'll cause any damage to it. I hope so anyway. Even if I do, they have two others, so it should be fine. Which leads to my next bit of randomness.
Christmas Party on Sunday! Yes, Christmas Party already. Some of my co-workers are college students, and so we have to work around final exam week and winter break. And make sure a minimum amount of staff is hungover the next morning.
Final bit of randomness: I'm booking my flight for New York in like, two days. My excitement knows no bounds. None. I book the hotel at the end of the month, and then all that's left is to budget for the taxi to/from the airport, my Metro card, and lots and lots of spending money. Hello, income tax refund!
I have to steal a vacuum cleaner. Not entirely. I have to clean my house, and do some serious vacuuming, butt I have no vacuum, nor a way to purchase one. So, I'm borrowing one from my job. I'll bring it back tomorrow, and I doubt I'll cause any damage to it. I hope so anyway. Even if I do, they have two others, so it should be fine. Which leads to my next bit of randomness.
Christmas Party on Sunday! Yes, Christmas Party already. Some of my co-workers are college students, and so we have to work around final exam week and winter break. And make sure a minimum amount of staff is hungover the next morning.
Final bit of randomness: I'm booking my flight for New York in like, two days. My excitement knows no bounds. None. I book the hotel at the end of the month, and then all that's left is to budget for the taxi to/from the airport, my Metro card, and lots and lots of spending money. Hello, income tax refund!
November 30, 2011
Writing Wednesday--I Have Failed
Yes. That's right. I got NOWHERE near close to the 50K required for NaNoWri. Why? A few reasons--or excuses, depends on how you look at them.
One, I'm doing my best to get through the editing on Shades of Desire. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you've read about my total hatred for editing. Actually, just for editing SoG and SoD, because they're very wordy, very full of character's internal thoughts, which I've been told is not the way to go. I'm working with a new editor, one who manages to get the job done without making me feel like an idiot, so who knows, maybe I'll stop hating the editing process at some point. But I doubt it.
Two, I got distracted by a project. I'm sorry, I've just got too much shit going on in my head to not write some of it down. I really, really, really want to focus all my energy on this, because I've got a deep gut feeling it'll be big. But I've got people asking for the next Jude, for the next Cari, even the next Frankie, so I can't devote all my time to this amazing idea. Instead, I'm going to spend 2012 putting out 2-3 Jude books, 1-2 Cari books, and 1-2 Frankie books.
Why am I going to kill myself with work? Because I plan to release an entire series in 2013. Yes, I'm assuming people will still want to read what I write in 2 years. Either I'm ballsy or psychic, I don't know which, but either way, I'm going for it. What this actually means is I'll be writing roughly a dozen books, if not more, in less than 24 months. This is like NaNoWri on cocaine. Or meth. I'm not sure which one keeps you up and going longer.
So, yes, I failed NaNoWri. But I'm coming away with a better sense of what I need to accomplish, and with an idea of how to accomplish it.
Now--back to editing. Damn it.
One, I'm doing my best to get through the editing on Shades of Desire. If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you've read about my total hatred for editing. Actually, just for editing SoG and SoD, because they're very wordy, very full of character's internal thoughts, which I've been told is not the way to go. I'm working with a new editor, one who manages to get the job done without making me feel like an idiot, so who knows, maybe I'll stop hating the editing process at some point. But I doubt it.
Two, I got distracted by a project. I'm sorry, I've just got too much shit going on in my head to not write some of it down. I really, really, really want to focus all my energy on this, because I've got a deep gut feeling it'll be big. But I've got people asking for the next Jude, for the next Cari, even the next Frankie, so I can't devote all my time to this amazing idea. Instead, I'm going to spend 2012 putting out 2-3 Jude books, 1-2 Cari books, and 1-2 Frankie books.
Why am I going to kill myself with work? Because I plan to release an entire series in 2013. Yes, I'm assuming people will still want to read what I write in 2 years. Either I'm ballsy or psychic, I don't know which, but either way, I'm going for it. What this actually means is I'll be writing roughly a dozen books, if not more, in less than 24 months. This is like NaNoWri on cocaine. Or meth. I'm not sure which one keeps you up and going longer.
So, yes, I failed NaNoWri. But I'm coming away with a better sense of what I need to accomplish, and with an idea of how to accomplish it.
Now--back to editing. Damn it.
November 29, 2011
The Tuesday Buildup!--Shades of Desire Excerpt
Ah, that time of week again. To those who care, I had a very long Thanksgiving week/weekend. Profitable, but long. And my poor body is feeling it. Ugh.
Moving on--this bit below introduces, and reintroduces some characters, as well as throws the first monkey wrench into the works. Question: if it was any other kind of wrench, would there still be the same problems? Something to ponder.
I know, I know, I promised vampires and history and all sorts of stuff. But I'm deep in editing hell, and the sooner I get through it, the sooner you all get Shades of Desire. So, next week, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, I WILL share some spooky vampire info with you. For now, enjoy a bit of Jude and the gang.
Detective Duprees turned as I opened the door to the informal parlor, no doubt alerted by the slight groan of the hinges. "Ms. Henries?" "Detective Duprees, right?" I crossed the room to shake his outstretched hand, not surprised to feel calluses. He had the look of someone who spent a lot of time being active even if he wore a jacket and tie now. His dark blond hair looked in need of a cut, his skin a light tan color speaking more to heritage than the sun.What caught me were his eyes. A brilliant shade of blue, they reminded me of the blue and white china in one of the hundred and one cabinets of the Crossroads. Full of intelligence and directness, you knew right away he took his job seriously.The bad guys were so in trouble."Yes, Ms. Henries. Your assistant no doubt told you why I'm here." He scanned the assembly at my back before turning his gaze back to me. "I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a crowd with you."I lifted an eyebrow, amused. Gesturing to a seat, I settled into the sofa, left space for Theo on one side and Celia on the other. On our way downstairs, Celia popped out of her bedroom and announced she was ready to go. In the interest of timeliness, nobody argued."Introductions, then, before we continue. Theo Rossiere, my…." Well, hell. Boyfriend seemed so juvenile, baby daddy way too ghetto. "My Theo." I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye. Guess he didn't mind his title."Celia and Elizabeth Malley. Rian Flannery. And you've already met Lies." Now that I thought about it, I didn't even know if Lies had a last name. Something to find out later. "Now, Detective. Perhaps you'd care to tell me something about Deiadre." "Like I said, your assistant has probably told you why I'm here. Ms. McKee was murdered sometime last night. Her personal information said to contact you in case of an emergency." Those eyes were hyper focused on me now. I wanted to squirm slightly, even though I knew I was in the clear on this. "Not her parents or any other family. But you.""Deiadre didn't have any other family. Her parents died a few years back in a plane crash over the Atlantic." Good thing Elizabeth had a memory for family trees. Although how serious Detective Duprees would take her when she looked like a tart I didn't know. "Most of the people of the Covenant who don't have any family have Ms. Henries listed as emergency contact.""The Covenant." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "In that case, are you, Ms. Henries, the leader of the Covenant?"The surprise must have been evident on my face because Duprees continued hastily. "I don't believe I fully introduced myself. I'm your New Orleans Police Department liaison. Any potential criminal issues you're involved in, I handle.""You're not the same person I saw at the reading of Gillian's will.""Detective Neasterly was only a few months away from retirement. I'd been his partner for the past two years, so when he took early retirement, the department offered me the position." Duprees smiled, a touch of humor in the gesture. "Actually, the higher ups begged me. They didn't want to go through the trouble of explaining everything to someone else.""Understandable." And really, it was. It took me more than a few minutes to wrap my mind around the existence of the Covenant, let alone the extent of how huge it was. I couldn't begin to imagine how a nice, normal person would take the idea of throwing fire and producing gusts of wind with a thought."With all that being said, yes, I'm the leader of the Covenant. Now, can you tell me anything about Deiadre's death?" If he gave me the crap line about early hours of the investigation and so on, I'd have to seriously control my temper. I didn't like cryptic when things actually were kind of crypticy. Cryptic when it involved people dying really pushed my buttons."She was found in St. Louis No.1 by a group of tourists, earlier this morning.""She didn't go there willingly." Every head in the room turned in Rian's direction. "Deiadre hated the cemetery. She wouldn't have gone there at night for any reason, I guarantee it." Duprees looked like he wanted to ask a question or two, but decided against it. If he'd spent any time with the Covenant, he probably knew random statements weren't really random. "That's the same conclusion that we reached, Mr. Flannery. The cemetery was merely the dump site, which leaves us with more than a few problems.""Such as?" Theo's hand tightened ever so subtly around my shoulders, his heat bumping up a notch."Well, the first would be why Deiadre. The second would be why the cemetery. But the big one would be why she was completely exsanguinated."Even the high school drop-out knew what that meant. "Not a drop of blood left in her?"Duprees' eyes stayed steady on mine. "Not one."Well, hell. "I think you should take us to the cemetery."
Moving on--this bit below introduces, and reintroduces some characters, as well as throws the first monkey wrench into the works. Question: if it was any other kind of wrench, would there still be the same problems? Something to ponder.
I know, I know, I promised vampires and history and all sorts of stuff. But I'm deep in editing hell, and the sooner I get through it, the sooner you all get Shades of Desire. So, next week, cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye, I WILL share some spooky vampire info with you. For now, enjoy a bit of Jude and the gang.
Detective Duprees turned as I opened the door to the informal parlor, no doubt alerted by the slight groan of the hinges. "Ms. Henries?" "Detective Duprees, right?" I crossed the room to shake his outstretched hand, not surprised to feel calluses. He had the look of someone who spent a lot of time being active even if he wore a jacket and tie now. His dark blond hair looked in need of a cut, his skin a light tan color speaking more to heritage than the sun.What caught me were his eyes. A brilliant shade of blue, they reminded me of the blue and white china in one of the hundred and one cabinets of the Crossroads. Full of intelligence and directness, you knew right away he took his job seriously.The bad guys were so in trouble."Yes, Ms. Henries. Your assistant no doubt told you why I'm here." He scanned the assembly at my back before turning his gaze back to me. "I wasn't aware you'd be bringing a crowd with you."I lifted an eyebrow, amused. Gesturing to a seat, I settled into the sofa, left space for Theo on one side and Celia on the other. On our way downstairs, Celia popped out of her bedroom and announced she was ready to go. In the interest of timeliness, nobody argued."Introductions, then, before we continue. Theo Rossiere, my…." Well, hell. Boyfriend seemed so juvenile, baby daddy way too ghetto. "My Theo." I caught his grin out of the corner of my eye. Guess he didn't mind his title."Celia and Elizabeth Malley. Rian Flannery. And you've already met Lies." Now that I thought about it, I didn't even know if Lies had a last name. Something to find out later. "Now, Detective. Perhaps you'd care to tell me something about Deiadre." "Like I said, your assistant has probably told you why I'm here. Ms. McKee was murdered sometime last night. Her personal information said to contact you in case of an emergency." Those eyes were hyper focused on me now. I wanted to squirm slightly, even though I knew I was in the clear on this. "Not her parents or any other family. But you.""Deiadre didn't have any other family. Her parents died a few years back in a plane crash over the Atlantic." Good thing Elizabeth had a memory for family trees. Although how serious Detective Duprees would take her when she looked like a tart I didn't know. "Most of the people of the Covenant who don't have any family have Ms. Henries listed as emergency contact.""The Covenant." It wasn't a question, but a statement. "In that case, are you, Ms. Henries, the leader of the Covenant?"The surprise must have been evident on my face because Duprees continued hastily. "I don't believe I fully introduced myself. I'm your New Orleans Police Department liaison. Any potential criminal issues you're involved in, I handle.""You're not the same person I saw at the reading of Gillian's will.""Detective Neasterly was only a few months away from retirement. I'd been his partner for the past two years, so when he took early retirement, the department offered me the position." Duprees smiled, a touch of humor in the gesture. "Actually, the higher ups begged me. They didn't want to go through the trouble of explaining everything to someone else.""Understandable." And really, it was. It took me more than a few minutes to wrap my mind around the existence of the Covenant, let alone the extent of how huge it was. I couldn't begin to imagine how a nice, normal person would take the idea of throwing fire and producing gusts of wind with a thought."With all that being said, yes, I'm the leader of the Covenant. Now, can you tell me anything about Deiadre's death?" If he gave me the crap line about early hours of the investigation and so on, I'd have to seriously control my temper. I didn't like cryptic when things actually were kind of crypticy. Cryptic when it involved people dying really pushed my buttons."She was found in St. Louis No.1 by a group of tourists, earlier this morning.""She didn't go there willingly." Every head in the room turned in Rian's direction. "Deiadre hated the cemetery. She wouldn't have gone there at night for any reason, I guarantee it." Duprees looked like he wanted to ask a question or two, but decided against it. If he'd spent any time with the Covenant, he probably knew random statements weren't really random. "That's the same conclusion that we reached, Mr. Flannery. The cemetery was merely the dump site, which leaves us with more than a few problems.""Such as?" Theo's hand tightened ever so subtly around my shoulders, his heat bumping up a notch."Well, the first would be why Deiadre. The second would be why the cemetery. But the big one would be why she was completely exsanguinated."Even the high school drop-out knew what that meant. "Not a drop of blood left in her?"Duprees' eyes stayed steady on mine. "Not one."Well, hell. "I think you should take us to the cemetery."
