Cidney Swanson's Blog, page 10

Scary Fall Reads

I've received lots of email lately this week from people who hope to write someday. Based on the two titles I'm about to recommend, I have some advice for everyone who's written me this month about wanting to write someday. Here it is: do like these authors did and write the story that only you can write. Brilliant advice, huh? I estimate I'm the two-million-seven-hundred-thousand-sixty-fourth person to give this advice. (Give or take a few.) So you've probably heard it before. But it's good advice.
I read two great examples this week from writers who do just this: Maggie Stiefvater and Laura Elliot. I started reading Maggie the summer Shiver came out. I liked her writing, and I've been buying her books ever since. I want to recommend The Scorpio Races as an example of where a writer does what only she could do. It's scary. It's romantic. It's about horses. And the faery-realm. (Ish.) The setting is strongly Celtic. Color (in descriptions) is practically a character on its own right.
Now, lots of people could write a scary story with great descriptions utilizing color. And lots of people could write a romantic tale in a Celtic setting. Or a horse story that draws on mythology. Or—you get the idea. But I'm pretty sure only Maggie could have written a Celtic-set, scary, romantic horse-race story drawing upon faery-mythology with descriptions of color that make you want to get your watercolors out.
Then there's Laura. I am reading her Thirteen on Halloween which has this lovely crossing in and out of reality based on perception. Laura loves magical realism. Laura loves Halloween. Laura's funny as heck. Laura uses animals' names as verbs, adjectives, and adverbs. Who else could have written this humorous Halloween tale of magical realism with "to peacock" as a conjugate-able verb? Not me!
So there you have it: my recommends for some fun fall reading. By authors uniquely qualified to tell their stories. And for those of you who are thinking you'd like to write something? Please do. Dig deeply through the things you know and love. And you might find the story only you can write.


A Story Only I Could Write

YA Indie Carnival--What's New This Week

The Reckoning by M. Leighton, the second and final book in the Fahllen series, will be available for purchase on Amazon and Barnes & Noble on Monday, October 31st. Halloween day!



Visit http://mleightonbooks.blogspot.com/2011/10/reckoning.html for excerpts and the latest on her new release!



Book signing for Crushed by K.C. Blake this Saturday from noon to four at the Northpark Mall in Joplin, MO.!
Read an excerpt here! 




Join The Paranormal Plumes This Weekend Oct. 28-Oct. 30th in Savannah, GA IF YOU DARE! #paranormalplumessociety all weekend for virtual scares 





The Noah sisters rule Titan High with their beauty, brains, and magical powers.

Each year they play a secret game: Crushed. The girls pick their targets carefully and blow enchanted dust into the boy's faces, charming them, but this year Kristen makes a grave mistake. She chooses the wrong boy and almost dies that same day. Coincidence? Maybe.

But something isn't quite right about Zach Bevian. He doesn't behave like a boy who's been Crushed. He goes from hot to cold, from looking at her with contempt to asking her out on a date. She doesn't know what to think. Does he hate her or is he truly falling for her? Is he trying to kill her, or is he trying to save her?

CHAMELEON by Cidney Swanson Now Available in paperback! Click to purchase


When Sam learns of her nemesis Helmann's Nazi-like plan to establish a Thousand-Year Reign, she's determined to fight him. Along with Will and Mickie, Sam flees to France to meet Sir Walter—their best hope for stopping Helmann's brave new world.
But Sam isn't any safer in France. Someone is following her. Someone invisible. Sam will have to figure out how to hide from an enemy she can't even see.


13 on Halloween & Winnemucca by Laura A. H. Elliott now for sale at A Children's Place Bookstore andBroadway Books in Portland, OR

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Twelve-year-old Roxie wants to be like Adrianne, the popular girl, the peacock, who gets everything she wants––a trampoline, a flock to prowl around the mall with, and most especially invitations to parties. But everything changes when Roxie invites all the popular kids in the eighth grade to her thirteenth birthday party on Halloween and they all come. And a boy, the boy, actually talks to Roxie. Roxie has the best night of her life until the peacocks decide they want to celebrate her birthday in a way Roxie never expects––in her attic, with a gift that is out of this world, and a pact to never tell a living soul what happens next. 



Enter Cheri Schmidt's Library Giveaway from Oct. 20- Nov 20th & win a chance win signed copies of The Fateful Trilogy & have Cheri donate her books to your library!

A huge fan of Jane Austen, Danielle hopes to find her own Mr. Darcy when she leaves Colorado to attend art school in London. Of course she knows it's silly to wish for that, naive even. But she's met enough males who lacked respect for women, a growing trend it seemed. And at nineteen...well.... However, on only her second night there she gets lost and is threatened by a stalker who proves to be immune to her martial arts training. Before she is completely overpowered, she is then saved by Ethan Deveroux.

The Vincent Boys by Abbi Glines Available Now 

Being the good girl isn't all it's cracked up to be. Ashton Gray has grown weary of playing the part to please her parents, and to be worthy of the town's prince charming, Sawyer Vincent. Maybe That's why she's found herself spending time with Sawyer's cousin, Beau, while he's away for the summer camping with his family. Beau is nothing like her perfect boyfriend. He's the sexiest guy she's ever seen, dangerous in ways she's only day dreamed about, and the one guy she should stay away from.
Beau never envied Sawyer his loving parents, his big nice home, or his position as quarterback. He loves him like a brother. Which is why he's tried everything in his power to keep his distance from Sawyer's girlfriend. Even if he has loved her since the age of five, Ashton is Sawyer's girl, so therefore she's off limits. But when Sawyer leaves for the summer, Ashton, the one girl Beau would move Heaven and Earth for, decides she wants to get into trouble. Stabbing the one person who's always accepted him and stood by him in the back, is the cost of finally holding Ashton Gray in his arms. Is she worth losing his cousin over?.... Hell Yeah.

Family Magic by Patti Larsen available now 




Sixteen-year-old Sydlynn Hayle is the daughter of a powerful witch and a demon lord of the seventh plane. The trouble is, she just wants to be ordinary. Syd struggles to survive the minefield of her new high school while being torn between her attraction to football hero Brad Peters and the darkly mysterious Quaid Moromond. When her coven comes under attack, Syd is forced to face the fact she is a witch and only her power can save her family's magic.

My Tattered Bonds, the last of the Bloodstone Saga by Courtney Cole

It is always darkest before the dawn. Harmonia has certainly found this to be true. She has faced more than any one person, goddess or mortal, should ever have to face.

She has lost her soul mate time after time, lies and deceit have surrounded her and in fact, she has even been misled about her very identity. Yet she has always emerged with strength and grace. But now she will face the unthinkable. Her daughter has been taken and Harmonia will risk everything to get her back.

In this epic series finale, all will be revealed. The only question remaining is…Who will be left standing?

My Tattered Bonds is preceded by Every Last Kiss (book one), Fated (book two) and With My Last Breath (book three). This book contains a preview of Courtney Cole's exciting upcoming new series, The Moonstone Saga.

God Bless the Nerds

Raise your hand if you're a nerd. Of any variety. Maybe you're a little too into ballet. Or Star Trek. Or you're the only girl ever to like Halo. You think Middle Earth is a real place. You study obscure facts about World War II aircraft. You've read every work in the library's biography section. Go on; raise your hand if you're a nerd.
I won't laugh.
As soon as I was old enough to scrawl my name across the back of a library card, I lived in libraries: the county library, stately with a cupola on top, the children's section in a warm cozy basement; the school library, with large windows along one whole wall and ugly blue-gray carpeting that made your knees itch. Librarians became the fairy godmothers and fathers who provided me with riches beyond compare.
I was on my way to Nerd-dom.
When I grew older, a number of factors contributed to making me a quiet and withdrawn teen. If I'd lived in libraries as a child, I lived in books as a teen. Here I found the safe harbor from the raging sea that is middle school. I had friends, I had hopes, I had dreams--all within the pages of book after book after book.
During these years I formed deep relationships with words, sentences, and paragraphs. I'd always written stories; now I explored essays, poetry, and imagined histories. Writing was personal and provided a place I felt safe. And it might have remained a private thing except for the Nerds.
As my stories grew longer and explored the angst and pain of growing up, I realized I didn't want to keep my writing to myself any longer. I thought of all the libraries and classrooms filled with nerds like me. The time had come to pay forward all that I'd been given. (A tiny something--just a few drops in a rich ocean.) I felt pretty confident the world hadn't run out of kids who needed a safe place to explore their questions and pain, or even to escape from those things. I began putting my stories out there because I had something I wanted to give back to the 'tweens and teens that were like me: happiest in a book.
And then it happened last month. A quiet 'tween approached me to tell me how much she'd enjoyed my book. I could see the conflict behind her eyes: I want to talk to this author; I don't like talking to strangers. She was so brave it made my insides squirm. A part of me recognized a part of this young woman. I hope I told her thank you in a way that she could hear. I was so overwhelmed by the beauty of her courage that I have no idea what I actually said to her.
But I went home glad to have a job that lets me pay forward all the gratitude I feel for those librarians, those authors, those books that got me through the rough patches. I was a book-nerd. Ha! I still am. And I don't think I'm alone.
Browse Cidney's Books on AmazonBrowse Cidney's Books on Barnes&Noble
Looking for more book-geekdom? Check out these authors on YA Indie Carnival:Courtney Cole's final book in the Bloodstone Saga is out! http://www.amazon.com/Courtney-Cole/e/B004Y4Z8ZU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1Lexus Luke's Manitou The Sky People Saga (30% of the royalties of  go to the ASPCA) http://www.lexusluke.com/The Vincent Boys by Abbi Glines releases Oct 21. Here is the book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=aAp6chU-d6oFor a limited time, get a signed copy of Kimberly Kinrade's YA paranormal thriller/romance Forbidden Mind plus awesome gifts with each purchase. http://bit.ly/qGMQkzFilter Giveaway on Gwenn Wright's blog! http://hereventuality.blogspot.com/2011/10/von-strassenbergs-giving-it-away.html. The Paranormal Plumes Haunted Book Tour in Savannah Halloween Weekend!http://www.theplumessociety.com/

Love in a Minor Key

Love in a Minor Key
While my main characters wake me early in the morning and keep me tossing and turning at night, there are days when I find myself seduced by the charms of one of the minor characters inhabiting my personal universe.
Like Sir Walter de Rochefort.
Ah, Sir Walter, you relentless tease. Of all the characters in my Ripple series, he's the most likely to tell me what he's thinks of something. Anything. The dinner I cooked, (the dinner I didn't cook), the danger in which I've placed a character, his opinion on American _________.  (You fill in the blank. He's got plenty o' opining when it comes to America and Americans.)
Whilst my other characters (major and minor) mostly skedaddle the moment I finish writing for the day, Sir Walter refuses. He hangs around unseen and unexpected like the invisible man he is. And then he ambushes me at absolutely ridiculous moments with his Gallic wit and accent (which is remarkably sexy, considering he's old enough to be my . . . er . . . never mind—too hard to calculate—considering he's over six-hundred.)
His complete devotion to France and all things French just kills me. He's just so darned sure that his country has already pronounced the last word in everything from fashion to dining to automobiles. I mean, really? ("Absolument, my dear," he replies.)
There's the fact he can cook a mean cassoulet, help dispatch a villain, and perform surgery all within a few hours. There's his loyalty to Mickie, Will and Samanthe. There's his ability to take a trivial experience (a day at an amusement park) and draw out of that lessons for living life with more compassion and a willingness to sacrifice one's own life for the good of others. Um, gosh.
So, in a few minutes when I step away from my desk for the evening, I'll be keeping an ear out for my French friend. I'm reheating take-out pizza. I'm sure he'll have something to say about that.
Who are your fave "lesser" characters?
Sir Walter approves your purchase of this book, featuring himself. 3.99.

Finding the Gems

FINDING THE GEMS: A Tribute to Marcus Zusak
She leaned down and looked at his lifeless face and Liesel kissed her best friend, Rudy Steiner, soft and true on his lips.  He tasted dusty and sweet.  He tasted like regret in the shadows of trees and in the glow of the anarchist's suit collection.   –Marcus Zusak, The Book Thief
If you have read and loved Zusak's book, you may have come across his description of his writing: "I like the idea that every page in every book can have a gem on it." When I first read this, I immediately thought, "Yes!" I knew I wanted to try to do that same thing: to make sure there was one sparkling bit of language on each page that would make a reader sigh or smile or cry or remember when. Zusak's idea of a "gem on [each page]" has never left me. 
Zusak further mentions that some of his images show up during initial writing and others get re-written dozens of times or even removed entirely. When I'm feeling lazy or in a hurry, I use these ideas to remind myself to slow down and let the words take as much time as they need.  At the very least, Zusak's words remind me to make a notation to re-visit an image later, when my mind is fresher.
Zusak continues, "It's probably what I love most about writing—that words can be used in a way that's like a child playing in a sandpit, re-arranging things, swapping them around."
I love this image, because at its best, this is what writing is like for me. Playful and full of give-and-take. When too many of my sentences begin with a subject, continue to a verb, and end with a direct object, I know it's time to play. How can I switch things around? Make them interesting? If I've written too many long, comma-filled sentences in a row (yes, Mr. Robinson-from-ninth-grade-English, I was listening!) then I know it's time to pop in a very short sentence or two. This kind of word-play is, to me, soothing and irresistible.
While the story is what starts me out when I write, the words themselves are what propel me through the dark days when I'm sure what I've written is awful dreck. How can I dredge through this muck and find that gem? And in the end, this provides a nice balance: spending some days writing the story down as fast as my fingers can fly and then sinking down into the words on a single page and swapping them around until they shine.
So thank you, Marcus Zusak, for giving me that image of a gem that can be placed upon each page. Thank you for the hours of intense and often frustrating labor, and thank you for helping me, in the end, to make my stories a little bit better.
3.99 e-book







Notes:Markus Zusak, The Book Thief, (2005, rpt; New York; Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, 2007), p. 536.
Markus Zusak, Afterword, "In His Own Words—A Conversation with Markus Zusak," The Book Thief, (2005, rpt; New York; Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, 2007), p. 11.

Snape is My New Crush

Snape is my new crush. There. I said it out loud. Well, I put it in writing anyway. Like many readers, I feel an intense connection to Severus Snape every time I read through the second half of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I just wasn't prepared for the effect that his story would have on me when presented on a really, really big screen.
I wasn't one of those who made it for the midnight viewings. I'd promised my niece that we would watch it together. (We're both very bookish and deeply devoted to all things JK Rowling.) After I made the promise, it was a bit hard to keep, as she wouldn't be coming to visit 'til July 18th, and the rest of the family were too sick to go until the 20th.
But this past Wednesday, taking advantage of cheaper matinee pricing, we all marched down to the local Cinemark. I knew I'd be sad. I'd read a tweet by Cheryl Klein (continuity editor on later HP's) where she compared her night at the premiere to watching your best friends getting beaten up for two hours. So, yeah, I knew it would probably be a tear-jerker. For some people.
But I wasn't prepared.
Oh, my goodness, from the moment Alan Rickman first walked on the screen, and without his having uttered any words, you could feel Snape's inner turmoil. It was painful, hearing him deliver that initial warning about not sheltering Harry Potter. Okay, you know what? I'm just going to break every rule I learned in school about reviewing a film and full-on talk about Snape like he was a real person,. But didn't you feel it? How conflicted he was as he made those demands of all of the Hogwarts students? I got shivers.
And I kind of wanted to slap Harry's face and tell him to behave when he accused Severus of the wrong crime moments later. (Didn't you want to shake Harry by the shoulders?) I love Rowling's Harry Potter deeply, so I've got to admire the directing behind a scene that made me want to give Harry a wake-up slap.
And then the pensieve scene. Oh my. Oh I so did not see that reaction coming. Liquid just started gushing from my eyes and nose. I was shaking with tears.  And, of course, trying to do it quietly so as not to disturb other people near me. But I couldn't stop. I think the tears started the moment I heard young Severus' voice. So small, so earnest. So obviously over-the-top in love with Lily, his one friend in all the wide world. And Snape's anguish when he comes to Dumbledore knowing Lily's been killed? "They put their trust in the wrong person, just like someone else I know." (Thanks, Dumbledore. Here's some salt and lemon juice you can throw in there while you're at it.)
Which brings us to the moment when Snape discovers the dead body of his best friend, his compass-star, his one true love. I can't bring that scene to mind without tearing up. Which would not be good because I'm not a great typist to begin with. So, ku-dos to you-dos, Hollywood, for taking those unbelievably painful pages from Rowling's masterpiece and turning them into something even harder to bear. Because like Aristotle pointed out, a good cry can be a good thing. Even if you end up with a crush on Severus Snape.
Rippler 2.99 ebook/10.99 paperback 

How Teenagers Can Give You the Courage to Change Your Life

It took two fifteen-year-old boys to convince me to follow my heart and start writing full time. Fifteen's this great age. You've survived the battle arena of middle school and probably made it through your first year of high school. And in some part of you that maybe doesn't hover on the surface, you know—absolutely know—that you can do something great. Something amazing. Something only you can do.
Yeah, maybe a person or circumstance in your life has shoved that knowledge down to the deep end of the pool and tied it there with a big rock, but you still know it's there, it's true, and it really doesn't matter what anyone else thinks because you know it.
Look around at the adults in your life: how many of them still know this, carry it around in their pockets? One? Two? Zero? We get old and we get tired and we forget that we ever felt this way once.  I mean, adults write sentences like "It's never too old to be what you might have been" precisely because they have to see it spelled out in black and white to even remember what you know at fifteen: that you are invincible and can do whatever you set out to do.
Four years ago I found Eragon by Christopher Paolini. I was standing in my Costco, looking at the books table (the coolest part of Costco.) As I browsed, I overheard these grandmas talking.
 "Wrote it when he was a teenager, and he's a real nice kid. He home-schooled with one of my grandchildren."
Well, you can bet that caught my attention. This gorgeous book was written by a teen? Whaaat? Anyway, I bought the book and loved it. I hadn't fallen into a world like this since I was a kid riding in a van to Alaska. (I had only Lord of the Rings for thirty days of driving. I rationed it out to one hundred pages a day; those pages were the best part of each day.)
And now, here's this fifteen-year-old author giving me another great world (with way more dragons!) I finished his first book and bought and read the others, and I thought to myself, Wow. This kid, he's like, fifteen, and he didn't have any issues with writing a freaking long book. He just did it. And then did it again.
That same year, I noticed another fifteen-year-old knocking out a couple of novels every couple of months. And I thought to myself: Wow. Where do you get that kind of belief in yourself and your abilities that lets you just do what you want to do?
And it's like this light popped on, blinding me: when you're a teenager, you know that you can do anything. Seriously, Teens. Can. Do. Anything. As a late-bloomer, I'm probably not the best person in the world to convince you of this fact, but look: someone else said it too! (Better than I did.)
So on March 20, 2009, I told myself: "No more 'I'm-going-to-write-a-novel-someday;' I need to just write. Like those fearless fifteen-year-olds. Forget 'someday.' This is someday."
You know how adults or teachers say that their kids teach them so much? (Yeah, we do say that, and if the adults in your own life aren't saying it, that sucks—they should, because it's true!) So anyway, it took a pair of undaunted teenage boys to teach me that if I wanted to do something bad enough, I needed to just start. Today. 
No matter what your age is: be that fifteen-year-old version of yourself.  And if you are fifteen? Do what you know you can do. Do it now before you get old and forgetful and busy doing things that don't really matter to you anyway. Take it from a late-bloomer. Nuff said.
Thank you, Chris Paolini, for showing me that it's okay to do what you dream of doing and that if you weren't too young to do it, then maybe I wasn't too old. And the other fifteen-year-old? That was my kid: the 'JWS' to whom I dedicated my first book. Because if it weren't for him and Paolini and their teenager-ability to just do stuff, I wouldn't be writing novels today. And that would just be sad. Book One in the Ripple Series 2.99 at Amazon

Candles and Electricity*

I am frequently asked why I chose to publish Rippler independently.  The short answer is that I couldn't resist. Imagine for a moment that you lived in the age during which electric light was being installed. You don't have electricity.  Some of your neighbors have had that new-fangled gas-lighting installed, but they admit it was a bother and that it smells bad, and honestly, you've always been fine with candles and a kerosene lamp or two yourself.

Now imagine that you are off to the big city where you will stay in a hotel.  Your room is supplied with candles and electric lighting.  You try it out, and suddenly you see the appeal.  Electric light is bright and unwavering.  You consider how convenient it is; there's no wick to trim, no running out of wax, and considerably less fire hazard.

Obviously the analogy breaks down pretty quickly.  Oh, what analogy?  Well, in my example above, paper books would be to candles as e-books are to electric light.  (Kerosene and gas lighting are the e-readers of 20 years ago that didn't catch on and the ability to read books on your computer.) (Maybe you have to flip them for the analogy to work.) (Whatever.)

Clearly, there are times even today when you might choose candles over electricity: to set a certain mood or because there's a black-out.  And when you camp, you might use a Coleman lantern.  But for everyday convenience, our nation has decided nothing beats electric light, for the time being.

I believe that is where we are heading now with regard to reading.  That is, I think that in the near future, more people will read books electronically than on paper. This is especially true for the kids born at the turn of the millennium, and they are the future.  They also happen to be my target market.

I had a novel (a series, actually) that hadn't found a home yet.  I also have two other titles that are close to being ready for submission.  I had decided I would pursue publishing those instead.  But what to do with Rippler, the darling child of my heart?

I couldn't resist giving e-publishing a try.

And I'm so very glad I did! I completely underestimated the amount of work involved, but much of what slowed me down will be easier the next few times, and people are buying Rippler.  I'm so tickled!  My little book, which could have languished on my computer's hard drive, is out there being read by people I've never met! I did not expect sales to take off this quickly, but I'm not complaining!

I'm moving right on to my next novel.  And that feels great.
 
Oh, and by the way? I totally love lighting my house with candles, and I will always treasure books printed on paper.


*With a nod to Joe Konrath's blog, where I first ran into the analogy.  http://jakonrath.blogspot.com/
Book One in the Ripple Series 2.99 at Amazon

All I Ever Wanted

I accomplished a huge life-goal over Memorial Day Weekend.  Since I was seven, I have wanted to write a book.  That goal morphed into "I want to write a book people will buy" as the years went on. Rippler (the book formerly known as "Ripple") went live on Amazon this weekend and, shock of shocks, people bought it.  People not related to me.  (I would know this because I had more than the two sales I coerced family members into making!)  I spent my birthday (on traditional Mem. Day) pulling weeds and laying compost in the yard, and all day I had this happy flutter in my belly.
I did it!  I really did it!
My seven-year-old self just grinned and grinned.
Book One in the Ripple Series 2.99 at Amazon

Things I Didn't Miss on Vacation

I went to sunny, hot Florida for ten days to escape wet, cold Oregon.  There were quite a few things I didn't miss.

I didn't miss the rain.

I didn't miss the sub-80-degree weather.  (80 is God's perfect temperature; just sayin'.)

Didn't miss the cats me-yowling for breakfast.

Okay.  Maybe just a teeny.  Gosh, I did kind of miss the cats, I guess.  Maybe I should list the things I missed, now that I am PATENTLY no longer on vacay.
So . . . Um . . . There has to be something . . .

Jeeves!  I missed my butler-alarm-clock.  Seriously, if you haven't been woken up by the mellifluous voice of Stephen Fry as your own personal butler (Excuse me, madam, but the Washington Post rang, again . . .), then you have not lived.  I'm sure you can find one for sale online.  Probably not used, though, as the wake-up changes daily and is freaking hysterical.  So, yes, I did miss Jeeves.

And brussell sprouts.  "What?" you say, "How on earth do you cook those miniature cabbages?  They always end up all gooey at the bottom of my veg drawer after 3 or 4 months of being ignored because I can't figure out how to cook them!"  (Admit it, did I peg some of you?)

So, because I missed brussell sprouts and now you are dying to know how I make them, I present to you my very own deliciousness method of including this cruciferous (I think) veg in your diet.

Brussell Sprouts a la Cidney

1/2 pound of the little buggers, as small of size as you can find*
2 slices of bacon; go for the uncured, happily-raised hog variety*

Start cooking the bacon, on low heat.  Cut off any discolored ends at stem end and make an "X" through the stem end of each sprout.  Place in a veg steamer and steam for about 10 minutes--your mileage may vary depending on size of sprout--and remove.  Slice each in half, lengthwise.  Remove bacon from pan and dice it up teeny.  Leave the bacon fat in the skillet.  YOU HEARD ME.  You're eating brussell sprouts, for goodness sakes.  Live a little.
Place all the little halved sprouts in the bacon fat and add the diced bacon.  Fry the sprouts in bacon/fat for 2-5 minutes depending on how blackened or light you like it.  Salt and pepper to taste.
*Try Trader Joe's or a healthy foods store near you if your farmer's market can't supply.

If you want to be really decadent, make a cheese sauce to drizzle all over the little yummies.  Enjoy!  Tell me if you do enjoy.  Really.  I want to know.