Leia Shaw's Blog: Leia's Writing , page 4

I’m Back!

After a long blogging haitus, I’m finally back.

It’s been a 6 months or so since I took a blogging break. Though I haven’t technically stopped blogging because I had a weekly spot on Nights of Passion. So if you reaaaaally like me and kept up with my bullshit there, thanks!

For everyone else, I’m guessing this is your first time here in my writing lair. Welcome! Step inside to see where the magic happens. Mind the zombiquarium. Have a seat on my comfy couch. Don’t pay any attention to the shackles. Mwuahahaaaa….*cough* Sorry. Got a little carried away there.

So browse around. My paranormal books are listed to the right with links to their amazon page. Above, you can read more about me in the about me section ( I hope that was self-explanatory). Meet some of my characters and check out the news features on the other pages. Leave me a comment if you’d like. I love comments. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Stay tuned for more from me — snippets, giveaways, blog hops, guest authors, and more things I haven’t thought of yet but are sure to blow your mind.

And as usual, happy reading!

Perfectionist or Garfield? Which one are you?

***Originally post on Nights of Passion***

Since I usually write my Tuesday posts last minute, today you’re stuck with a rant based on my mood Monday night, which was when I wrote this, which was last night, and now it’s Tuesday, wherever you are, reading this. Yeah. Weird. Hey, I’m like me from the past, talking to the future you. Whoa. *enter Twilight Zone music*

It’s late people. You get what you get.

Anyway. I started two new books recently. Up until now, getting into a new project was fun and exciting and challenging but not so challenging that I was literally gnawing my own arm off starting at my fingernails. It was the kind of challenge that made you wanna throw on a gray jogging suit and do a little Rocky Balboa dance to Eye of the Tiger. You’re singing that song now, aren’t you?

So there I was, jogging suit freshly washed, ipod cued up, then…something changed.

Maybe it’s because I’ve grown as an author, or maybe it’s the pressure of putting out quality work faster, or maybe it’s because I added more fiber to my diet. I don’t know. The point is, something has changed and I don’t like it.

I’ve turned into a perfectionist. Some of you are obliviously nodding your heads to this statement as if it’s no big deal. Well, let me tell you something. It’s a big fucking deal!

I am far too lazy to be a perfectionist. But I’m not the kind of lazy that wants to be less lazy and only needs a pep talk and a caffeine pill addiction. I’m the kind of lazy that is perfectly happy being lazy. I’m like Garfield. I don’t want to be less lazy. I like the way I am. Fat, in a lasagna coma, making sarcastic comments about everything that happens in my silly little world.

Perfectionists are obsessive compulsive control freaks (no offense to obsessive compulsive control freaks). They were the ones that always made me look bad in school. It would’ve been a lot easier on the rest of us if everyone was just average. Even better, if everyone was a slacker. But thanks to the overachievers out there, average is much…averager.

So distressed was I about this cluster fuck, that I complained to a writer friend. Our conversation when something like this:

Friend: Remember back when you were gently guiding me in the ways of successful authoring?

Leia: Huh? I did that? Oh. Right. Ahem. Yes, I remember.

Friend: You told me to write in layers.

Leia: Yes, that’s very good advice. Go me.

Friend: And now that the pupil has surpassed the teacher, and sits here pathetically begging for scraps of advice…

Leia: Ungrateful bitch.

Friend: …I’m going to tell you the same thing. Don’t get hung up on every word being perfect. Write the story in layers. The first is the foundation, the plot and bare bones of the story. Second, is character development, and subplots. That’s the meat of the book. Third is perfecting the wording and adding description. See? You don’t have to do it all at once. Layers.

Leia: Hmm. *stares at mansuscript* Fuck layers!

Sadly, the conversation went downhill from there. But you see my point, right? Fuck layers.

Sometimes the writing method that served you well for years just ups and leaves. Probably vacationing in Hawaii with that bitch muse that deserted you over the summer!

Sometimes, advice you give turns out to be shit and you don’t have the energy to go back and tell everyone you gave it to that you don’t really know what the fuck you’re talking about and why does everyone listen to you anyway? You’re Garfield! Can’t they tell?

And sometimes, things just change. It’s not fair. You can bitch and moan and stomp around – which, believe me, I did – or you can go with it. In the end, you kinda have to anyway. Life is like that. It likes to screw us over once in a while just to keep us on our toes.

This post is mostly for me, if you can’t tell. My own messed up, public form of therapy to soothe my panicking inner writer. There there, little inner writer. Everything will be okay.

Anyway, writers…has your process made a dramatic change over time? Has anyone else done a 180 on something that seemed totally out of character? If so, how did you deal with it?

More importantly, which is better? Lasagna, parfait, or cake?

Tattoo Nation

Today I’m talking about a topic very near to my heart – but not too near cause that shit hurts on your chest!

Tattoos!

I got my first tattoo the very day I turned eighteen, which I’ve recently decided should be illegal. My best friend at the time brought me and paid for it – I think she was more excited than I was. I picked a random picture off the wall and since I was always a good kid, this was my own form of teenage rebellion. Ha! An ugly stain on my skin for eternity. Take that parents! Sidenote: I’ve since covered that one.

The pain didn’t scare me much – still doesn’t. I don’t go looking for needles to jab myself with, but I know the pain is temporary and I have a pretty high tolerance for it. As evidenced by, not one tattoo on my foot, but one original then one cover-up. So technically, I’ve been tattooed on my foot twice. I don’t recommend it, by the way. There are far easier spots that are just as nice.

Since my very first tattoo was on my upper back, I rarely saw it and mostly forgot about it. In the next several years, I marked my body with four more tattoos. Some brilliant, some not so brilliant. I’ve covered or modified my tattoos almost as often as I’ve put new ones on my body. At the time – this was about ten years ago – tattoos were just starting to spread from mostly bikers and prisoners to the general population. But I was still one of few in my circle of friends and considered pretty damned cool for getting one.

I took a tattoo break when I had my kids – did the whole mom thing. Or what I thought was the mom thing that didn’t really fit who I am inside. Why does being a mom mean you have to wear cardigans and take out most of your piercings?

When I turned thirty I said, to hell with it. I’m getting another tattoo.

And my, how the world has changed in the last decade!

I live in the city – a small city but still a city. There are two colleges nearby. One, right in my city, and the state university is in the town next door. I sit at Starbucks a lot to write. Or the little privately owned hipster coffee shop downtown. And eighty percent of the young adults that walk into both places are tattooed. I don’t mean they have a little heart on their hip where no one will ever see it. I mean women – no, girls – have entire sleeves tattooed on one or both arms. Several down their legs, back, necks, everywhere! Nothing is off limits anymore.

And it’s not just college kids either. Grandmothers are getting their grandkids names tattooed. Professional career men are covered beneath their formal wear. Now that I’ve grown up – kinda sorta – I worried for a fleeting moment that getting more tattoos was a bad idea. What will my body look like when I’m old and wrinkly? Well, I’ll tell you. It’ll look just like every other American’s old, wrinkled up, tattooed body because most people in my generation have them now anyway. It’ll look normal.

So after I turned 30, I got my 6th tattoo. Then I went a little tattoo crazy. I blame an early mid-life crisis. Or maybe I’ve always been a freak and just repressed it through my late twenties. I’m not really sure. Anyway, I got a brand new tattoo, covered two, then got my nose pierced (which I’d always wanted to do but never did because I thought since I was a mom I should look like, I don’t know, June Cleaver? Stepford wife? Whatever.).

I have an appointment next month for my seventh tattoo (I’ll post pics on facebook) and in the summer I plan to extend one on my leg to connect to the one on my foot. I’m a Johnny fan (if you didn’t already know) and this sums up my philosophy on tattoos:

So…how about you? Do you have tattoos? Do you like them but never got one? Are you afraid of them, fascinated, considering getting one? I wanna hear all about it. Leave me a comment and I’ll be replying on and off all day.

10 Things to do with your Kids on Vacation

Our family vacation is coming up in a few days. And to prepare ourselves – and maybe some of you – I’ve compiled a list of things to do with your kids on vacation…to make it more fun for you.

So. Things to do on vacation with your kids…

1. Leave them at home. Chances are you will have a gajillion times more fun without them whining about the long car ride, fighting over every activity, and complaining for food three times a day.

2. Play the Lost and Found game. This family oriented game is sure to be hours of fun. Just tell your kids they have until sundown to find the lost child desk at whichever local attraction you go to. Then spend all day avoiding them.

3. Load up their plates with jello from the buffet and go relax by the pool. Be prepared to ignore rumors of a food fight. Ear plugs help.

4. Put them in a small raft or inner tube then pay a boater to tug them out to sea. Relax on the beach until the tide brings them back in hours later.

5. Two words. Revolving door.

6. Drive them out into the wilderness and tell them they’re on Survivor. Pick them up at dark. Unless they’re fighting, then the game becomes Lord of the Flies and you pick them up when vacation is over.

7. Plop them in the pool with swimmies and sunscreen. Pick them up at dusk when the life guards leave. Be prepared for them to be pruny for a few days.

8. Find a slippery floor and set them loose with socks on. This will last hours.

9. Dress them as super heroes and have them help the elderly find empty slot machines.

and finally…

10. Eleven is not too young to practice driving on a long stretch road on a cross-country road trip.

Any other ideas are welcome as we leave on Thursday. Leave them in the comments below!

Destiny Bewitched Release Parties

Come by my twitter party that starts at 11 am, #destiny bewitched or my FB release party http://www.facebook.com/events/387881....

Lots of discussion and a prize.

See you there!

Why Women Hate Me for Being Talented

*originally posted on Nights of Passion*

Inspired  by the brave woman who wrote this article a few weeks ago (Why Women Hate Me for Being Beautiful), I’ve decided to come out of the closet and speak out about my own suffering. So here it is. Why it’s so hard to be talented.

When I was six years old and first used my talent, my grandmother told me, “you’re so talented.” Ever since then, people have gone out of their way to do things for me.  Waiters are always bringing me complimentary water at restaurants. People return things to me I have dropped or say “excuse me” when bumping into me. You might be thinking that’s a wonderful surprise. But it’s not. Not for me. It’s not a surprise, I mean. It’s wonderful, sort of, but the wonder isn’t because of the surprise because it’s not a surprise at all. Let me clear that up. Yes, wonderful. No, surprise.

Anyway, I don’t even bother to ask why they do these enormous favors for a stranger – a woman they don’t know, which is what a stranger is. I already know why. It’s because of my talent.

You may be judging me as you’re reading this, making your own determination about my talent. But I’m not arrogant or superior – I’m just better than you.

But as great as I am, I’ve also lost many friends because of it. They’re jealous because, while their talent has gotten old and flabby, mine has stayed young and taut.

Doors have been slammed in my face. Literally. Usually by mothers of small children. They whisper “delusional” behind my back. The mothers, not the children. The children say silly, nonsensical things like “get a life loser” and “I hope you drown in a pool of your own vomit.” Poor kids. They’ll never be as talented as me.

I asked a lady on the bus if I committed some crime that made people hate me. She said “they hate you because you’re a stuck-up bitch.” I smiled and nodded cause she’s just a lady on the bus and doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Then when she turned around, I spit in her coffee.

I don’t work or else I’d have more examples of how hard it is to be talented.

Men never ask me on dates because they think “how can I ever keep up with her talent?” They even go out of their way to ignore me so their wives and girlfriends don’t get jealous.

I was following my best friend around the mall one day and she started giving me dirty looks. Later, I realized her talent had been one of those that got droopy parts and those little creases around the eyes everybody calls laugh lines because they don’t want to come right out and say wrinkles. Before that, she would barely tolerate me, now she was downright rude. Do you see what I mean? Do I have to water down my talent to be like everyone else? Is that what it will take to have friends?

One time I was at a wedding and someone noticed my talent and, in a fit of jealousy, said, “who are you? You weren’t invited to this wedding.” I burst into tears and ran into the bridal suite where some men in blue uniforms came to console me. They were even kind enough to escort me off the property. Another example of strangers treating me better because of my talent.

I’m probably one of the only people who’s looking forward to the decline of my sanity. Then maybe people will stop judging me on my talent and look at who I am instead. Which is, and will always be, better than you.

Top 10 Sexy Movie Heroes (with pictures!)

I’m in a generous mood today so I’m posting my list of sexiest movie heroes, complete with photos for you to drool over.

10. Daniel Craig in Cowboys and Aliens

 
Who can resist a man saving humanity wearing chaps and a cowboy hat?

9. James McAvoy in Wanted

 
A pretty face and charming smile but can still kick ass with the best of them.

8. Adam Sandler in 50 First Dates

Maybe not your traditional sexy hero but, come on, he spends his life with a woman who wakes up every day with no memory.

7. Wesley Snipes in Blade

Who says vampires have to be pasty white? Wearing sunglasses and black leather with an I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, Blade is how I prefer my vampires.

6. Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones

 Harrison Ford wielding a whip and saving women from pits of vipers? Classic.

5. Hugh Jackman in X-men

 He may be a smidge hairy but he can dig his paws (not claws) into me anytime.

4. Brad Pitt in Fight Club

Yeah, maybe he plays the immoral half of Edward Norton’s character, and maybe he spends most of the movie with black eyes and bloody, but just look at those abs!

 
3. Viggo Mortenson in Lord of the Rings

 
Soft-spoken Aragorn has a warm heart but can still kick orc ass on the battlefield.

2. Bruce Lee in anything

I don’t know what to say other than, he is the definition of bad-ass

1. Russell Crowe in Gladiator

All he wants is to go home. To his son and his wife. *wipes tears* Just let the man go home!

Honorable mentions:  Vin Deisel as Riddick, Ryan Gosling in The Notebook, Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting, Jason Momoa in Conan, and Antonio Banderas in Zorro.

So that’s my list. I know you have opinions about this so, go on, share yours. Sexiest movie heroes. Go!

***I wanna do another top 10 list in the future. What should be next? List suggestions in the comments.

Fun with Erotic Words

This post was triggered by a request on facebook for erotic words to fill in a homemade crossword puzzle and clues to go with it. So me, being so helpful and kind, tried to help. And my attempt to “help” morphed into this ridiculousness…

Romance – what gradually fades the longer you’re married

Necking – what teenagers do in parked cars

Pregnancy test – what you buy after doing #1 across (necking)

A ring – what you demand after #3 down (pregnancy test)

Dry humping – sometimes better than intercourse

Vibrator – your best friend during NFL season

Electric toothbrush – can be used in a pinch when #5 down (vibrator) is broken

Shame – what you feel when husband catches you with #4 across (electric toothbrush)

Hairdryer – what you throw when husband accuses you of depriving him

Jail time – what the judge orders for assault with #2 across (hairdryer)

Fantasy – everything your life isn’t

Lights off – how you do it after age 30

Blindfold – what you wear to stay in #7 down (fantasy)

Strap-on – what you’d like to tell your husband to wear when he whines about doing the dishes

Right hand – the only thing men need to have a good time

Menage – inviting your husband to play with your vibrator.

Alcohol – turns your average man into a porn star

Porn star – makes you need alcohol to screw your husband

Husband – never as good as your vibrator

So…wanna join in the craziness? Whatcha got? An erotic word then a clue to go with it.

Sunshine Blog Award – 10 Zany Questions

I was nominated by the lovely Casey Wyatt for a Sunshine Blog Award! Yay for a free blog topic! So here are the rules:

1. Include the award logos in your post or in your blog

2. Answer 10 questions about yourself. I just made up my own. You can use mine or make up your own.
3. Nominate 10-12 other wonderful bloggers
4. Let the other nominees know they are nominated and include links to their blog
5. Link the person who nominated you

So here are my 10 zany questions!

1.   Vampires or werewolves?
Um…one of each.

3.   Who’s your favorite actor?
Johnny Depp hands down.

5.   What’s your dream vacation?
Lord of the Rings tour in New Zealand. Yes, I’m a nerd.

7.   What animal best describes you?
Dolphin. Because it’s playful.

9. What’s your favorite quote from a book?
“Some people are like Slinkies. They aren’t really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to my face when I push them down a flight of stairs.” – Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs

I tag: Carrie Ann Ryan – paranormal romance author on fire!
 Laurielu – book reviewer with a way with words that always makes me smile
 Brenda Dyer – a lovely person and paranormal romance author
Cari Silverwood – writer of kick-ass zombie killers and delicious rough sex
Fictional Candy – fun blogger and my favorite commenter
Delphina Reads Too Much – sweet person with an adorable book review blog
Alexia’s Chronicles – my favorite fan and book reviewer
Casea Major – multi-genre author and beta reader extraordinaire
Heather Webb  - awesome blogger, writer, and a friend I know in flesh and blood!


Gratuitous picture of Johnny Depp

Slapstick and Sarcasm – what’s your favorite kind of humor?

I wouldn’t call myself a comedy writer, but humor plays a big role
in my books. In my life, actually. As a parent of a child with special needs, I often tell people if I wasn’t able to laugh at myself, and sometimes our situation, I’d have slit my wrists a long time ago. Ha ha, just kidding. A little dark humor for ya’. But for me, laughter is that important. It’s even got a healing quality to it. Having a good laugh releases endorphins that give us a bit of a high. Like a natural upper. Many times when I’m feeling down, I’ll say to my husband, “I need a good laugh, do something funny.” To which he blankly stares. Then I roll my eyes and call my best friend.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, I think for the upcoming generation of readers, humor is essential – even if you write deep, dark, and serious material. We live in an ADD society. The audience for long, flowery narration like Jane Eyre is, for the most part, dwindling. And new readers are picky. If they hit a dull spot, they put down the book. And if they put it down, it’s very hard to get them to pick it back up. This generation moves fast and they want their books to also.

Again, where does writing humor fit into this? Well, one of the things I try to do is, when I have to inundate a reader with a long description or a backstory, I make it funny. That way it entertains the reader as well as giving necessary information without hitting a lull.

Now I’m no expert, and admittedly I didn’t do much (or any) research before writing this post, but in my mind there are several types of humor. Some you’ll be great at, some not. In my opinion, it’s better to use what you got than try to be good at everything. Maybe you already know what suits you best or what comes most naturally to you – if so, awesome and run with it. If not, I’ve listed the types (which I just made up) below along with an example of each. Take a look at what you find most funny then experiment with how to add more of it in your writing.

And I apologize that all the examples of humor are from my books. Number one, it’s my own material so I don’t have to worry about copyright infringement. And number two, I’m lazy.

Dry humor:

Marcelo knew from experience, human women did not like being ordered around by men. His queen had taught him that when she’d tried to kill him only a few months ago. And all because he’d forced her to drink blood and steal the throne from her twisted father. Women were so temperamental.

Sarcasm:

“Your ego is legendary. It’s like its own entity. No, really. We should name it.”

Dark humor:

“We’re not so different, you and I. You believe your loose morals dictate the right people to kill. I don’t.” With the knife, he cut straight through her shirt. “That’s the only difference between the hunter and the hunted.”

She rolled her eyes. “Is this how you’re going to torture me? Spewing philosophical bullshit? I prefer the knife.”

Silly humor:

“So? You made a good choice for once in your life,” James said. “Good on ya’. What do you want? A cookie?”

Maddox grunted. “She wants an apology, dumbass.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Now I want two apologies.” Folding her arms across her chest she added, “And a cookie.”

Visual humor:

When he crouched down into a fighter’s stance, he looked like a sexy tiger ready to pounce. When Sage did it, she looked like she was sitting sideways on an invisible toilet.

Banter:

“You’re a bossy little thing.”
“Me bossy? Ha! That’s funny coming from you.”
“Down here there’s a name for a creature that taunts a bigger one.”
“What’s that?”
“Dead.”

Pop Culture humor:

“Thanks for that, boy genius. Where’d you graduate from? Hogwarts School for the Mentally Unbalanced?”

Irony:

It had only been six days since she’d frozen in fear when the werewolves had attacked her and Marcelo. What a long way she’d come since then. Now…now she would have faced them with courage instead of cowering behind a man. Her head would be held high, bow in hand, strength down to her feet rooted on the ground. Yes, she was fae. She would never run and hide again.

Just then a giant snarling ball of muscle, fur, and teeth lunged at her from the trees. Oh, the irony.

Physical humor:

The next stall over is decent but cramped. It’ll have to do. I lift my dress and begin the process of liberating my curves from the torture device called Spanx. I grab the waistband and yank. And yank and yank. Down, down my body. At my hips, I reach some resistance. I wriggle them back and forth but the stall is so narrow I knock into the walls. I widen my stance, hovering above the toilet. Balancing on my too small heels proves challenging. I grunt and curse under my breath. Sweat drips down my nose. But I am going to get these damn things off if it’s the last thing I do.

Taking a more aggressive approach, I shove my hands under the waistband around my hips and pull down as hard as I can. Then I hear a loud rip and freeze. I look down. The lacy red underwear Nick got me is torn through at the side.

“Shit!” I hiss. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The sound of a throat clearing comes from the stall next to me. Double shit! Someone walked in between my grunts and thumping about? It probably sounds like I’m giving birth in here.

Witty humor:

Uhh…I don’t really specialize in this. I mainly use low brow and crass.

So. What’s your favorite type of humor to read and to write? Do you have examples you’d like to share? Leave a comment below and we can all laugh at you…er, with you