Cynthianna's Blog, page 13

A Holiday Excerpt from The Stocking

Happy holidays! I've been rushed off my feet doing various things, but I wanted to let you know that I do enjoy the holidays and have actually a few books that take place during this time of year.  I hope you can take time this week to settle down by the fire or heater with an ebook or two! ;)

The Stocking http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-stocking/

Adele’s lonely Christmas Eve on the prairie is made much brighter by the arrival of a mysterious silver-whiskered stranger…
A Devine Destinies short--only 99 cents!

Here's an excerpt for your enjoyment:

The sound of snow falling off the eaves was familiar to Adele, but something seemed different this time. She threw back the goose down quilt and plunged her feet into icy shoes, grabbing her shawl from the foot of the bed. She glanced at the clock on the mantel as she headed to the front window to see what the ruckus was all about. It was midnight.
    
    Moonlight painted the snow-covered world in a lustrous diamond blanket. The blue-black sky was clear now and only a gentle wind howled across the endless white prairie. Her small home was most certainly encased in a large snowdrift, invisible to anyone but those who knew where to look for it. She scanned the horizon and pulled her shawl closer across her boney frame.
    
    “So beautiful, yet so cold and lonely.” Adele said to Tabitha as she jumped to the windowsill, purring loudly, demanding to be petted. Her owner happily obliged. “You silly thing. You keep me company, but you can’t hold a decent conversation, can you?”
    
    Thump, thump! The sound of snow falling from the eaves startled Adele again. Surely is couldn’t be melting? What else could be on her roof?
    
    “Heavens be!” she gasped. “Could it be ol’ Saint Nick himself?” She covered her mouth with one hand and hugged the shawl tighter against her with the other. “Lordy, no! If I wasn’t sure about losing my mind before, I am now. But, oh, Tabitha—wouldn’t be wonderful if the dear ol’ saint came down the chimney to treat me this one last time?”
    
    Shivering from cold and anticipation, she lowered herself into her chair by the fire, bending to stoke its dying embers. A shower of snow rained upon the glowing coals, effectively quenching their warmth.
    
    “Well, I never…”
    
    A second later another trickle of snow dropped to the hearth from above.
    
    Adele sprang to her feet and strained to look up the chimney flue. “Glory be! Is it really you?”
    
    “Me?” came a deep male voice. “I guess it is. To whom do I have the pleasure of conversing with?”
    
    “Adele. Adele Stougaard.” She stood up and scratched her head. “I thought you knew everyone, Saint Nicholas.”
    
    A jolly laugh then. “My name is Nicholas, but I’m far from being the blessed saint himself. Can you guide me to the direction of your front door, my good lady?”
    
    Adele relaxed. The disembodied voice coming from above was only a lost traveler. She sighed and shook her head, disappointed to think she hadn’t witnessed a miracle.
    
    “Head toward the moon and watch your step,” she called up the flue. “I can see out my front window, so the door should be visible after you climb down from the roof.”
    
    A knock at the door a moment later confirmed her suspicions.

The Stocking --available at Amazon and at Devine Destinies Books
http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-stocking/

Book Review: Dragon's Child

The King Arthur Trilogy Book One: Dragon's Child by M. K. Hume
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I'll only touch on a few things for this review, but I have to say that overall I wasn't that impressed with the writing style. The "head-hopping" (or constant point-of-view switching) drove me up a wall. Here I am as a published author thinking how my editors would have told me to do a complete rewrite if I head-hopped as much as Ms. Hume does in this book. The end result of using this "omniscient narrator" (head-hopping) creates an emotional distance from the characters, especially the main character of Artorex. Yes, his name is a Roman name and not "Arthur" that you'd might think considering the long title of the book/trilogy. I'm okay that Ms. Hume wants to make Artorex a Celt brought up by a Roman family, although by 600 AD how many pure bred "Romans" are left in Britain, really? (And why are Celts seen to be "deficient" in their warrior ways that only a Roman could do the job right?) It's the emotional distance that the reader feels that sinks the story, because we never stay in any one character's POV for very long--I'm talking about head-hopping every other paragraph in some scenes. Without staying in one POV and feeling a deep connection to the young and struggling Artorex, you really don't get a feel for him as a character or even care for what happens to him. What makes this any different than reading a non-fiction article on the legend of Arthur/Artorex? One spoiler--there is no "magic" or fantasy elements in this story, so some readers who enjoy Arthurian legend will be disappointed. But if you like a story that's simply told to you about a young Celtic boy raised in a Roman manner to become the High King of the Britons, and you don't mind head-hopping, then this is the book for you.

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Book Review: Time to Depart

Time to Depart by Lindsey Davis
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Time to Depart brings Roman sleuth Marcus Didius Falco alive once again for me after a rather slow ride in the last book in the series. Returned to his home town of the seven hills, political corruption, crime, theft, murder, and old friends and family members abound in this story. Falco is hired on to help solve the mystery of who is behind the robbery of an entire marketplace worth of goods after his friend in the vigils, Petro, sends a noted gangster up the river (or rather, gets the crime boss exiled from Roman territory). If Pius isn't the criminal mastermind, who is? Lalage, the brothel keeper, isn't talking, and neither is Pius's bitter wife or vacuous daughter. Add in the domestic troubles of being asked to officiate as a priest at his landlord's wedding (ugh!), discovering a baby thrown in a skip, "adopting" a mutt that follows him about, trying to find his missing niece, and learning that he's about to become a father with his lover Helena Justina, and Falco has more than his hands full. Time to Depart is fast paced and full of action, suspense and plenty of characters to keep readers entertained. Well done!

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Happy Un-Thanksgiving to You!

It’s odd how a tune can get stuck in your head sometimes. Odder still, the choice of tune that gets stuck in your head and the exact timing of this phenomenon. Maybe the tune is an indication of what’s really going on in your subconscious? But maybe—just maybe—it’s more ominous than that. Maybe it’s a sign of what’s going on just beneath the surface of reality itself...
For the past couple of days, I’ve been humming the tune to A Very Merry Un-Birthday to You from Disney’s animated classic Alice in Wonderland. It was one of my oldest girl’s favorite movies as a kid, and she about wore out the tape in the VHS player. The more I thought about it, the more odd it seemed to me that I wasn’t humming Christmas carols (since the radio stations are already blasting them) or even thinking of a more traditional tune like the Thanksgiving hymn Come Ye Thankful People, Come. Why was I thinking about the Mad Hatter’s surrealist tea party and the idea of celebrating an un-anything?
It all began when I opened up the shopper paper lying on our front lawn the other day. In the colorful mass of recyclable materials I spied the big-box store flyers proudly proclaiming, “We’re open on Thanksgiving Day at 6 AM!” My heart sank. Now I know why that infuriatingly little tune from Alice in Wonderland had become stuck in my head. I've fallen down the rabbit hole like Alice, and the insanity surrounds me on all sides.
There are no sacred days, no official holidays, or special family gathering days anymore in America. There is only naked commercialism, overpaid CEOs, retail-slave-laborers, and poverty wages. Indeed, there is little to be thankful for in a culture openly based on greed and consumerism.
So, let’s stop fooling ourselves. The Thanksgiving holiday has been lovely for the past 300 odd years. (Only the last 150 years of it has been official as Abraham Lincoln declared it a federal holiday during the Civil War to promote unity). But, obviously, we’ve grown up as a society and grown past it. Why do we need to be thankful for anything, let alone express thanks to anyone or any deity? We got all the idols you could want, all the stuff we could ever need, and those with actual paying jobs (there are a few, but I don’t happen to have one) can go on wild buying sprees at 6 AM on Thanksgiving Day itself without regrets or recrimination. Why wait for Black Friday when we have a slightly dirty beige “Un-Thanksgiving Day” to go on a shopping expedition?
The Mad Hatter proclaimed every day that wasn’t your birthday was your “un-birthday” and worth celebrating. Since we’ve become a society of ingrates, every day—including the fourth Thursday of November—can be “Un-Thanksgiving Day”, right? Celebrate it by shopping during the wee small hours of the night! Celebrate by not paying your employees’ a living wage! Celebrate it by allowing 45,000 of your fellow Americans to die each year (that’s one every 12 minutes) from lack of health care! Celebrate it by glorifying the snarkiness, the insipid (reality TV works well here), the materialistic, and the capitalistic!
There is no one to give thanks to or for or about since it’s Un-Thanksgiving Day! Remember, it’s all about celebrating ME!
I want to “thank” you now, dear reader, for reading thus far and putting up with my attitude, but frankly I’m tired. I’m tired of the selfishness and mean-spiritedness of our culture. I’m ashamed to be American these past few years. We’ve become what we always prided ourselves for not being—self-absorbed and uncaring. We don’t care a rat’s behind for our own neighbors’ welfare, and our neighbor abroad is useful only if he has resources we want to take advantage of, be they animal, vegetable, mineral, or slave-labor. 

Abraham Lincoln is lucky to have lived in the 19th century and not the 21st. I’m sure if he were alive today, he would simply walk away and forget all about preserving the union. Why bother to save the self-centered lot which currently dwells here...
...When you can save all your money to hit the Thanksgiving Day 6 AM sales! Happy Un-Thanksgiving to you and yours—and may all your shallow self-indulgences empty your bank account and raise your cholesterol level.

© Shecodes | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Celine's latest vampire tale--Blood in Berlin

 Now available from eXtasy Books!




Blood in Berlin By Celine Chatillon
Book 3 in the Kindred series
http://www.extasybooks.com/blood-in-berlin/



    In 1938 London, the vampire Edwin Carstairs attracts the attention of British Military Intelligence. A Nazi scientist known as Madame V is creating super-vampire-soldiers in Berlin and must be stopped. Edwin accepts the mission, hoping to prevent another devastating world war. But what will he and his team do when Edwin’s lost love Ophelia Jones is discovered taking an eager part in experiments that risk the very survival of human and vampire-kind alike?

Book Review: You Are Now Less Dumb

You Are Now Less Dumb: How to Conquer Mob Mentality, How to Buy Happiness, and All the Other Ways to Outsmart Yourself by David McRaney
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I do indeed feel "less dumb" after reading David McRaney's You Are Now Less Dumb. As a psych major, I've always enjoyed learning about behavioral studies and other observations of the human mind. The great thing is that You Are Now Less Dumb is written on a level everyone can enjoy while exploring the fascinating world of psychology.

Probably the most fascinating part for me was actually becoming part of a "mob mentality" moment this past week after I finished reading the book. It is amazing how people on the Internet will use the anonymity it gives to act out in mean-spirited ways against others without fear of reprisal, believing that everyone in the group feels the same way and thus justifying their not-so-nice actions. If people really knew how others were thinking, would they join in the crowds that gather around suicidal people on bridges and start shouting, "Jump! Jump, why don't you?" Perhaps not.

And I've learned my lesson--never try to convince an online friend to switch his/her political viewpoint. Even if you post photos of bare, unadorned facts you are only making your friends' beliefs that much stronger because of the inborn need humans have to defend whatever it is we spend lots of time on. (You don't waste your time on "dumb things", right?) So, I'll no longer try to convince certain folks that allowing the elderly, disabled, and children to starve or go without health care isn't in our country's best interest, because to those who disagree with me on this topic it always will be. (One wonders what would happen to their attitude if their loved ones ever became part of the starving crowd.)

Yes, the world would definitely become a happier place if more read You Are Now Less Dumb and became... well, less dumb!

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Book Review: Last Act in Palmyra

Last Act in Palmyra by Lindsey Davis
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It's been a few years since I read a Falco mystery by Lindsey Davis so when I finally got a hold of Last Act in Palmyra, I was happy to delve into the world of ancient Rome once again. Falco is the same sleuth as he ever was--resourceful, trustworthy, worldly, cynical, and madly in love with a senator's daughter, Helena Justina. The setting in the cities of the Decapolis is interesting, and the details of everyday life in the first century Roman world are fascinating, as Davis is terrific with bringing such historical things to life. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for all the characters. About the only thing that spoiled this installment in the series is the tediousness of the storyline and how the various stock characters of the traveling theatre troupe in which Falco and Helena travel seemed to blur together in your mind. The story's pacing is slow compared with earlier capers, and I wasn't quite as excited to keep turning pages since I'd figured out who had committed the murder long before Falco showed signs that he even had a clue. I'm not a big mystery reader, so perhaps this wouldn't be a problem for most, but I missed the political intrigue and blood-and-guts action of the earlier books. Still, if you need a Falco fix, Last Act in Palmyra is sure to please.

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Depression and the Writer

I received an email (seemingly out of the blue) telling me that I needed to write a blog entry on a topic concerning writers, and I couldn't recall when I signed up to do one. Sigh! Never mind, I trust that I did indeed agree to write a piece, but that my recent state of mind made me forget when I did agree to it. Since this is a problem shared by many creative folks (dare I put myself in that category?), I thought I'd share my experience with you all in hopes that I could help others facing a similar challenge. There are three points I'd like to touch upon briefly.

The first thing we have to come to agreement upon is this: Writers aren't always happy people.

Oh, sure we see writers portrayed as rich, highly successful, beautiful, and vivacious people in movies and on TV all the time. Consider the handsome and talented Nathan Fillion's portrayal of a best-selling crime novelist on TV's "Castle". He lives in a penthouse and gets to hang around crime scenes with a gorgeous detective solving mysteries. Fun, fun, fun! No wonder everyone wants to pen the next New York Times best-seller! But you'll have to forgive folks for believing that this is the actual lifestyle of writers. After all, why would anyone choose a career path that would lead to poverty, financial ruin, depression, and rejection? Really, why would anyone do such a ridiculous thing?

The second thing we'll have to agree to is this: Writers don't choose their profession--it chooses them.

Sure, there are some who decide after a successful career in politics, medicine, sports, or celebrity-ness that they'll sit down and pen their memoirs or a seminal book on the subject that made them a household name. While they may be thought of as "authors" I don't consider them "writers". Writers write out of compulsiveness, out of a need to get their ideas and words across to others. Writers often forget things such as "readers" and "editors" and "paychecks", and instead, write the book of their hearts and hope that others might agree it's the book of their hearts, too. Unfortunately, most of the time it is not.

The third thing is obvious: Writers are inherently crazy people.

Writers are artists who create images and worlds with words instead of paint. If Vincent Van Gogh had been a writer instead of a painter, his writings probably would have been ignored during his lifetime, he would have suffered depression, and his family would have thought him totally lacking in commonsense all the same. Poor Vincent never lived to see his creative genius praised in art textbooks, his paintings hanging in the Louvre, or being auctioned off for millions--hundreds of millions--of dollars. In spite of the rejection, he continued to create art all the same.

Yeah, that's the definition of crazy all right.

Which comes to the gist of this piece: Writers are special and unique people. They suffer for their art because they can't help themselves. They must write. They were born to do it. When you tell them things like, "Stop it and go out and get a real job!" you are essentially killing their souls. Because writers have to write like others have to breathe. It is life itself.

Whether you are wired or born to be a writer, you seem more prone to suffer from the ups and downs of life compared to non-writers. This sensitivity is a two-edged sword. It allows the writer to experience the world around her and describe it to others in a way that brings it to life in the reader's mind without having to be there. But the sensitive person is a vulnerable soul. Hard times and harsh words hurt ten times as much and sometimes take ten times longer to heal.

All this doesn't mean writers are doomed to always be depressed or coming out of a blue funk. But it does mean that their journey in healing the soul will take a different path than other personalities. One size does not fit all. Patience and understanding is needed. But how can we help the writers in our lives who may be going through a bad time?

The best thing about writers is that they can verbalize when they are feeling down and when they are feeling better. Listen to them. If they tell you they are feeling a certain way, then it is probably the most accurate assessment of the feeling state of a human being you'll ever obtain. Writers are detail people and observers. We'll share the details and observations of our hearts. Don't ever tell writers that they're out of touch with themselves or reality--because writers experience and record reality at a level beyond what most folks could ever dream of doing. Accept that what the writer says is reality is her reality. Because it is.

And all is not lost because of this important truth: Words can heal. Why else would many counselors recommend keeping and writing journals during a course of therapy if words didn't heal? So allow the depressed writer in your life to vent on paper, to write or not write, to try creating art in another medium, to express themselves in new or different ways as an alternative to writing. Because the creative process in any form is a positive process and a healing process. Eventually the writer's breathing will become calm and not ragged, and she'll feel more grounded in the reality the rest of the world sees as "normal", although the writer deep down senses there is no such thing as normality.

Wherever you are in your journey as a writer, keep this happy thought in mind: You are not alone. Many writers have come before you and will come after you, and all will experience similar feelings at one point in their writing journeys. Give them emotional support when you are able and accept theirs in return with graciousness when it is offered. Because only by sharing each others' burdens can we help use our words to create a better reality for all.

Book Review: Venus by Ben Bova

Venus by Ben Bova
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I somehow missed reading Venus in Bova's planet series a few years ago, and when I had to take a long trip on the road, I thought I'd give it a try. What was I expecting? Well, some good science, some interesting characters,and plenty of action. Venus delivers all this, but it could have used a bit more science about Venus itself and less of the "space opera" characterizations, in my opinion. Our hero, Van Humphries, has a lot of self doubts and fears, but he overcomes them and makes a good show of it by story's end. The female characters (and some of the male characters) come across flatter and less realistic. They fill their function in the story, but the reader never becomes emotionally involved in their plight, which is regrettable. Not a bad yarn and a pleasant, quick read overall, but I'd have to say it's not my favorite in the series.

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When words fail me...

 

Sometimes words fail me when I hear about how heartless, how selfish some people can be in regards to the suffering of their fellow man. How can they turn their backs on starving children, the disabled, and the elderly living on less than $5 a day? Rep. Jackie Speier of California put a lot of my thoughts into words in her address to Congress today. You can read her words or watch a short video of her speech at this link.

http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2013/09/19/rep-speier-holds-up-vodka-and-steak-on-house-floor-to-shame-food-stamp-opponents/

Thanks, Jackie. You put it well. When will we ever learn?

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