Alison DeLuca's Blog, page 7

A Flock of Ill Omens, by Hart Johnson

Deadliest virus in a century, or a social experiment gone awry? 

 Every year they warned about the flu and more often than not, it amounted to nothing. Sidney Knight, a young freelance reporter had certainly never written on it. But a trip to Lincoln City, Oregon cut short by a beach full of dead seagulls and a panicked warning from her brother the scientist catch her attention. This batch is different. Deadlier. And the vaccine doesn't seem to be helping. It almost looks like it's making it worse... 

A Flock of Ill Omens: Part I is the first episode of A Shot in the Light, an Apocalypse Conspiracy Tale about what happens when people play God for fun and profit. There will be approximately ten episodes, each the equivalent of about 100 pages. 

 Good Reads has a sneak peak posted. You can find the purchase link and more information about the book here. And if you want it FOR FREE, I will be offering it free on the release dates of at least the next two in the serial: September 19 and October 10. 

 Hart Johnson writes books from her bathtub and can be found at Confessions of a Watery Tart, though be warned. She is likely to lead you into shenanigans.

*****
I've read the first installment, and I am thoroughly hooked. Sid is a great character, and the investigation she starts is filled with thrilling twists. Plus, I'm a sucker for apocalyptic novels, so I'll definitely be reading the rest of the chapters to come. 

The Universe Inside My Trash

A simple compost tumblerIn the 70's, my mom had a compost heap. All of our kitchen refuse - vegetable scraps, leftovers, moldy refrigerator items - went on the heap, under a blanket of newspapers. When she started it, it only took a few days for the pile to become roaring hot, as a strange, unseen, microbial reactor started up under the unfolded pages of The Daily Local News.

Now I have my own composter, although I'm not brave enough to simply do a heap of stuff under a paper. I use a Tumbler, which is a large plastic barrel suspended in its middle. You unscrew the lid, dumpt the stuff in, and "tumble" it around so the bottom side is up. It's like dancing trash.

Speaking of trash, between my compost tumbler and recycling, we have very little in the way of actual garbage. As in the 70's, all kitchen scraps go into the compost bin, ditto grass clippings and newspapers. It feels good to know I'm keeping unnecessary stuff out of the land fill. Honestly, I don't know why everyone doesn't have one.

Well, that's not strictly true - I do know why. 

Compost is ICKY.

My tumbler keeps the compost process under wraps, but I still wear gloves to lift the lid. Know why? Because there is plenty of life inside - a myriad of burrowing, slithering things eating my trash and breaking it down into soil again. 

First there are the earthworms. (Not a fan of worms ever since one surprised me by crawling over my ankle as I read Jane Eyre under a willow tree; what should have been a romantic moment descended into shrieking hysterics.)

Then there are the bugs - pillbugs, mites, and nematodes (small worms.) Those thangs like to crawl around on the lid when I lift it; hence, the gloves. 

ewwwwwwwww

Finally there are the unseen things - protozoa, microbes, crawling tiny creatures who live to eat my trash. They generate carbon dioxide and heat in the process (and I'm certain there is a way to harvest that energy for power - over to you, engineers.) It's my own little disgusting universe, all packed into a barrel.

Plus there's the compost itself, which must be rushed outside when it is generated. Yeah, you don't want to keep that stuff inside your house any longer than you have to, and when it's lashing down rain or freezing outside, taking out the scraps is a huge PIA.

So why do it?

 As I mentioned, there's less trash. In Ireland, there was no thought of recycling or composting until the land fills in the tiny country grew overloaded with garbage. Now, a lot of Irish households recycle and have composters because they pay for trash by the weight. 

Yeah, if I was paying per pound for my garbage, I'd rethink the simple "toss it" too. And I've noticed that Ireland, as a small island, is a glimpse into the future for the planet as a whole.

 Compost generates soil. No, I'm not sticking my hand inside my tumbler - nooooo thank you very much. However, the microbes and earthworms break down my scraps so much that the soil drops out the bottom and piles up around the tumbler. The new soil is dark, rich, odor-free, and the best fertilizer I have ever found for my plants. In fact, if I dig it up and add it around the roots of a dying bush or tree, the thing perks up instantly.  
What compost soil looks like. It's like chocolate and champagne for plants
Thank you, disgusting mini-universe in my backyard!

Those are two pretty good reasons to have your own little tiny universe in your garden. A tumbler costs about 100$, and mine has chewed at least a thousand pounds of trash, compacting it into a small amount of rich, nutritious soil for my garden.

So, if you can get past the ick factor, I highly suggest getting your own Tumbler.

And with it: thick rubber gloves.

Pulp Fiction

First, a sincere apology for my long hiatus. It's summer; I have more kids than usual running around my desk.

During our vacation, my sister bought us a card game based on  
the Doc Savage stories of old. Never heard of Doc Savage? Allow me to enlighten you. 

He's Savage, and he's a Doctor. He goes on massive adventures, and never fear, gentle reader - at some point his shirt will get torn off:

I could use both hands to saw off its tentacle but then you wouldn't be able to admire the guns

And this started my love affair with old pulp magazines. Why do I love them so? Because anything - anything - can happen in them. 

Women will embrace large feathers, for no reason:

Just sign on the dotted line

 At any given moment a large green head might come along:


Barbie Doll THIS, pal
Science is always  creepy:

So are scientists:
Noooo... my new scientist-ish coat...
Ride in a  SUV? Not when there are tigers to be had my friend:


Some women are bad ass:
Oh no you didn't just try to borrow my hair clip Froggie
And others wind up in a large green hand:

Did I mention anything can happen?

Wouldn't have happened if you had bought the hand sanitizer at Costco like I told you, Vance.Love pulp. Love, love, love it.

Girl Who Wears Many Hats and a #Giveaway

Please welcome Donna Huber today, the author of  Secrets to a Successful Blog Tour. She's here to discuss the roles she fulfills - not many people can juggle so many things at once!



Hi! I'm Donna, but you might know me as Girl Who Reads. I learned a few years ago at a book event that I was better known by my online persona. I created the persona in 2009 when I joined an online story site. Most members of the group were writing their own stories, but I was adamant that I was not Girl Who Writes.
Over the past four years, though, my role as Girl Who Reads has expanded and most days I wear many hats.
Girl Who Pushes Papers - This is my day job. I've been an administrative associate in a research lab at the local university for over 12 years.
Girl Who Promotes - In late 2010, I heard of a group of women from the writing community who were establishing an independent small press to help new authors get published. I had experience with organizing and promoting events from my years of volunteer work. So, I contacted the publisher about helping their authors set up book signings and media coverage. Over the next 14 months, I got a crash course on the publishing industry. And in the process I obtained a new hat.
Girl Who Blogs - While searching for ways to get our books discovered by readers, I discovered the wonderful community of book bloggers. Not only was I responsible for promoting the books published, I also worked with authors to build their brand. I'm an experiential learner. I have to do something on my own in order to teach others. Blogging is an important component of an author's platform. In 2011, I started Girl Who Reads blog to experiment with blogging techniques as well as better understand the book blogging community I wanted to introduce our books to.

Girl Who, um, Writes? - Last year, I joined a group of bloggers and authors who were doing events to promote indie authors. A couple of the authors encouraged me to write a book based on my blog's Tips on Thursday series. I still was not convinced I could do it. I wrote some articles for The Indie Exchange and received a good response. I then submitted an article to my state's writer association's monthly newsletter and it was published. Over Christmas last year, I started compiling my tips posts into a book. But it was overwhelming and I shelved the project. The idea though continued to nag me and I thought about a smaller project.
At the same time I was freelancing with a several authors and many had the same questions about how to best market their books. In May, I found myself with some time on my hands and one weekend I took one of my moreasked-for posts along with a few others, and wrote Secrets to aSuccessful Blog Tour. 


Like most hats, the writing hat will take some time to feel comfortable on my head. But for fans of Girl Who Reads, don't worry - it's my favorite hat.

Find more about Donna and her books: On Facebook On Twitter On Goodreadsand  On her blog
Find Secrets to a Successful Blog TourOn Amazon US Amazon UK Kobo and Smashwords
And join the Rafflecopter giveaway here:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Beauty of Damaged

In the shower, where I get most of my important thinking done (memo - must get Shower Notes) I started to muse about how beautiful damaged people can be. 

Damage itself is very ugly, and of course I wouldn't wish trauma or sadness on anyone. What some people go through, either as kids or adults, can be terrifying even to contemplate.

However, the pain can be a type of bridge, almost a gift, to lead a personality from a basic, settled view of life to a new set of visions - perhaps that life is incredibly precious. Perhaps the damaged people get, more than anyone, the realization that nothing is more important than the people you love, and from the depths of agony, courage and strength can arise. 

In fiction and in film, I've always been "caught" by certain characters, by what their hideous pasts have done to them. Sometimes the pain makes them badass, sometimes they are in therapy or worse, or trapped in a long spiral down.

Yes, the spiral is fascinating, and I don't say this as a sadist. I repeat - I would never wish trauma on anyone. But to see a character spin out of control - it's a lovely dance...

ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY ARE OFFERED REDEMPTION.

That's the key. An endless descent becomes a VH1 "Behind the Music" special - you know what's going to happen - wealth, fame, and the onslaught of drink, drugs, insanity.

But if there is the possibility of escaping the spiral - an incredibly difficult act to accomplish, and one I do not take lightly - at that moment, I'm hooked. I love when Butch and Marcellus create their own 'honor among thieves' code of conduct. Ditto the friendship which elevates Andy Dufreyne and 'Red' Redding.

The downward / redemption concept captured me in Wool, in the Sherlock Holmes BBC series, in The Fault in Our Stars. 
Hazel Grace by spockward on deviant art
In the last one, Hazel Grace and Augustus are damaged by a dreadful thing beyond their control - the evil villain known collectively as Cancer. Bring two damaged people together and watch them find beauty and redemption - yeah, I read that book twice. And I'll read it again.

It's what sucked me into Darkness Rising, books 1,2,3 and now 4. It hooked me in The Lord of the Rings - the horrifying darkness surrounding Gollum and how (SPOILER ALERT, AND FOR GOD'S SAKE READ THE BOOKS) he is the key at the end to deliverance.
Son, that downward spiral has just begun.
I don't mean to belittle those who have had perfect lives, happy childhoods, plentiful friends, fantastic careers. If this describes you, receive my congratulations and a hearty handclasp! 

But, as I say, in fiction and in film and also in real life, those damaged people can be very beautiful. Their eyes are hooded with secret knowledge. Complex passageways are carved through their thoughts. They are careful with their own words, so they do not betray themselves.

They are human: scarred, tattooed, wounded.

They are beautiful.

Wishes and Cake

Somehow it's my birthday again, so I'm planning a few festivities:

1. Numero Uno, the purchase and consumption of sushi for dinner, along with frosty beverages, next to my husband on the couch. It's a tradition of sorts.

2. Some private writing time - a luxury for me. My friend is having my kid over to her house, so I get to plot and pants my way through the day.

3. Also going to treat myself to a workout, which sounds like a bummer except - hang on just a minute - at my age, menopause delivers sleepless nights. If I work out, I sleep. It's as simple as that. So, workout and sleep for me! Woo hoo - living the life!

4. A few minutes, meaning an hour or two, dedicated to reading my new drug of choice: Wattpad. I wrote about some cool writers I've found there before, and I've discovered others as well. Expect an update soon.

5. Another new obsession: fanfiction. There are scores of people around the globe creating content to celebrate their favorite movies and characters, and guess what? Some of them can really write well. It's fluffy and fun - perfect for a birthday.

6. It's my birthday, and I'll go to the library if I want to. And I want to.

7. In that vein, I might just troll through Amazon world, because why not? Any good bookk recommendations?

8. And because I'm a book slut, I'm going to hit the book store too. There, I said. Three book stops in one day. Alas, I only have the supermarket-ish, huge chain version of a bookstore, not the local shop with a large black cat in the window, but it will have to do.

9. And, since I'm on a diet and can't eat cake, I'm going to torture myself with food porn:

Garage Sale

Our neighborhood sponsored a block garage sale last weekend, on Saturday - one of the hottest days of the year. My husband and I found out about it on Friday night, which didn't leave much time to prepare, but still - the opportunity to get rid of some of the junk in our basement and attic was too good to pass up.

Like two crazed people, on Saturday morning we dashed around the house, grabbing items in boxes and conferring - "Can I get rid of this?" "Hell yeah you can!"

Both of us had gone through the Clean-Up-After mode when my mom passed away. Boxes, files, drawers, books - so many things to take to Goodwill or just throw out. It was great to reduce our own stockpile of unnecessary crap.

Why did we have three unused TV's? How had we accumulated so many jello molds? And in heaven's name, where had all those stuffed animals come from?
Dude, you missed it!
Meanwhile, as we triumphantly dragged the stuff to the Sell pile, our daughter watched anxiously. At her end of the life spectrum, she wanted to keep everything - not let anything change.

Garage sale people are early people. It was 8:30, and already the cars had begun to troll the streets with rubbernecking passengers looking for the good haul.

Our old bikes sold right away.
So did old video games.
They laughed at our TV collection - my husband ended up giving those away at work.
A surprising number of books sold (I would have paid them to haul them off!)
Old coats - gone.
The bed rails, right out of the package and never used - spurned.
Ditto the jello molds. But I can't really blame the shoppers for that.

While the cars rolled passed, my husband and I ran back and forth, grabbing more stuff. Garage sale fever had gotten into our blood, as the pile of ones in his pocket piled up and the basement emptied out. The kid kept sneaking stuff back into the house, which didn't help, until we had to resort to bribery to be allowed to sell it.
You know you want them.
The rain started, of course. Why would it not? We only had a table full of TV's and books in the front yard. DH flapped a tarp over the junk and continued to sell.

At the end of the day, we were sweatier than we had ever been before. My calf muscles ached. We still had to bring the unsold goods back downstairs. Still, we sold a lot - some of it baby items to a young couple who seemed very happy to get it. And isn't that what it's all about?

However, if anyone wants a set of bedrails and some jello molds - call me.

Great Reads on Wattpad

I've been spending a lot of time on Wattpad. Yes, I write stuff there, but I read a lot too.

The site is not merely a collection of One Direction wish-fulfillment stories - there is some great literature on there.

Literature? Really?
The Fairy-Feller's Master Stroke, by Robert Dadd
Yes. 

Let's start with the Atty Awards for poetry, sponsored by Margaret Attwood. She's the author of The Handmaid's Tale and a terrific poet in her own right.

The winning collection for the 2012 awards is called The Dictator's Guide to Good Housekeeping. Not only is it a terrific title, the poems are mystifying, deadly, insidious ... I read them several times, wondering, "How did she do that?" It's as though @valeriemw (the poet) was able to pull not  rabbits but tigers - heck, an entire zoo of creatures - out of a hat.

In particular, I was caught by Terza Rima, a piece crafted like a delicate Moebius strip. It starts as something simple and becomes a door to a new concept, done so deftly I can't, after several reading, see how. 

Of course, this collection is pretty well known, since it's the award winner and all. However, there are other writers who are relatively undiscovered and just as talented, in their own ways. 

@ScottWhitaker astonishes me afresh with each posting. First: his poems about Adam and Samantha, a pair of beautiful, sociopathic twins. Filled with horror, the language is still gorgeous. He takes me, with everything he posts, to another world - one where a woman tattoos her body with recipes and remedies,  one about breath, bone, and children on a beach ... They deliver the sense of impending action, great change, with goblin sensibility, much like the inexplicable painting called The Fairy-Feller's Master Stroke, by Robert Dadd (above.)

Whenever I see there's a new Scott bit, I trip over myself to read it.

It's no secret I'm really good friends with Krista. We met on a prompt thread and promptly fell into friend love; it doesn't hurt that she's a terrific writer and a painter of ink. One of my favorite pieces by her is Mauve Wings; Gold Fever is put up as prose but to me it reads like poetry.

And the Unfairytale - this golden bubble is just a picture, a skin of joy, that's all.

And there's more, like this short story by @SeeThomasHowl called Dirty Box of Pandora. I started by snickering, and at the end I got blasted out of my seat and across the room by talent, by writerly courage, and a trip I never saw coming. You definitely need to buckle your seatbelt for that wild ride.

@AlexPaul1 makes me laugh, and his series on Stephen Hawking (What if the speech interpreter got it wrong? What if Stephen wasn't talking about time continuums and the nature of mankind, but Indian takeaway and disco music?) deserves a few readings. Each time I go through it I snortle.

But he has a wistful side, too. I love his Aliens collection, where a pair of aliens talk about earthly things like comets and Adolf Hitler from their own perspective.
The Wood Between the Worlds
And his Spirits collection, which addresses living statues and angels among us.

@sageivans nearly frightens me with her intelligence - she's cool, fun, and spins words like a dj throwing down on Io. I keep returning to her Suicide Lane Cafe collection - it's filled with color, as in this piece. 

If you like more realism with a touch of retro perfectly done, try @sloanranger. She has a weekly serial called My Blue Haven uniting small town vision with China. My favorite of hers is Camptown Lady - it encapsulates a time period perfectly, with enough hot sauce to deliver a serious kick.

And there are more - so many more. I think of reading WP works like being in the Wood Between the Worlds place visited by Polly and Digory in The Magician's Nephew - a silent forest filled with puddles of water. The pools look the same, but when you jump in, you are transported to another world.

Wattpad is like that.

Four Paws - An Orangeberry Book Tour

The Quillective Project is an ongoing writing project to help no-kill animal shelters. Their first publication is a collection of poetry called Four Paws, available on Amazon.


Here at Fresh Pot of Tea, we join other bloggers and writers to celebrate this important effort. Check out the rest of the tour here!

The Quillective Project has put out Four Paws, a poetry anthology featuring bestselling authors Scott Morgan, Ben Ditmars, Amber Jerome~Norrgard and Robert Zimmermann, with a "fourward" by Russell Blake.

100% of all proceeds from the sale of Four Paws will benefit The Dallas Humane Society's no-kill shelter, Dog & Kitty City. Your purchase of this book makes a difference.You can find out more about Quillective on Facebook and Twitter.


Here is one poem from the collection:
And another:



four paws quillective

New Interview

Hurray, I'm on Lorna Suzuki's blog today, doing a fun interview and chatting about steampunk! Have a look here.

And, if you are looking for more fantasy novels in your life, try a sample of Lorna's Imago novels, available on Amazon here.