Ute Carbone's Blog, page 55

Sweet Saturday: When Gwynn met Slate

This week's Sweet Saturday Sample comes from a brand new still unpublished novella, the Whisper of Time. Gwynn has just bought a farmhouse in Vermont. She's gotten more than she bargained for:


     The Jack trotted reluctantlyover to his owner's side. And I knew where I'd seen them before.     "You're truck guy."     "Excuse me?"     "You're the guy with theancient truck. The one that tried to run me off the road today."     I could see the dint ofrecognition light in the guy's eyes. "I did not try to run you off the road."     "You did too. I nearlyended up in a ditch."      "You drive like mygrandmother."      "You have a truck old enoughto be my grandmother's."      "It's not that old. Andat least I don't drive it as though it were a horse and buggy."       At this point, Tardisstarted barking again. Which got Tyrone going and sent the cows to low out acomplaint. "See, they all agree that you are an impatient lout."      "Impatient lout? You don't even know me."      "You're right. Why are you in my barn?"      "It's my barn too, Sweetheart."      "I'm not your sweetheart."      "Shut up, all of you."  Truck guy could be pretty imposing when hewanted to be. He stood there, tall, tan muscled forearms crossed one over theother looking like an imitation of a Norse god. Tardis stopped barking, soTyrone stopped. Then the cows stopped. "Half this place belongs to me."      "Wait a minute, you're Slate?"  Stupid question number three. I don't know whythis hadn't dawned on me yet, but I hadn't considered a Norse god goatherd.Guess sometimes I can be a little thick.
      "What did you think?That I'd broken into the barn so I could milk the cows?"      "No. I didn't- wait a minute, what do you mean half belongs toyou?"
For more samples, visit Sweet Saturday.

Book Beginnings

Today's Meme, Book Beginnings, is hosted by A Few More Pages.

I just started reading After This by Alice McDermott.

Here are the opening lines:
"Leaving the church, she felt the wind rise, felt the pinprick of pebble and grit against her stockings and her cheeks--the slivered shards of mad sunlight in her eyes. She paused, still on the granite steps, touched the brim of her hat and the flying hem of her skirt--felt the wind rush up her cuffs and rattle her sleeves."

I love the description here. I can see it, the young woman standing on the church steps, holding down her skirt.

For more beginnings visit A Few More Pages

Thirteen Songs from Beanie's Playlist

I like to listen to music while I dream up trouble for my characters. When Blueberry Truth was released, I began to post some of the music from the playlist I'd used while writing and editing the book on my Facebook author page.

Here are thirteen songs from the list. You can click them on to listen and watch a you-tube version of the song.

1. Blossom, Ryan Adams
2. Angel Dream, Tom Petty
3. Baby, Dave Matthews
4. Make you Feel my Love, Adele
5. Something to Believe in, Shawn Colvin
6. Summertime, Janis Joplin
7. Father and Daughter, Paul Simon
8. Close your Eyes, James Taylor and Carly Simon
9. Shelter from the Storm, Bob Dylan
10.Brand New Day, Van Morrison
11. Breaking Silence, Janis Ian
12.Honor them All, Janis Ian
13.My Baby Needs a Shepard, Emmy Lou Harris


For posted music, drop in on my fanpage.



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Carrots on the Jam

This week's poetry jam  challenge is to write about a still life, preferably one you've photographed or painted yourself. I'm not much of photographer and I can't draw to save my life, so I borrowed this image from the internet:











Carrots
  Raised under fecund earth.
you kept reaching
down to the center, crawling
towards water secret and dark,
for the source of your sustenance.
The frost sweetened you
with its cold breath.
Your gossamer stem betrayed
the hiding place.
The earth gave way
and opened-
a cavity, a ripe wound
marking the place
where it had sheltered you
and tatooed you in hyroglphs
as a remembrance of your beginnings.

Nikki's Six Sentences on Sexual Harassment

Today's six comes from The P-town Queen. Nikki has her own way of responding to being harassed. No matter that the man in question holds the purse strings for the grant money she needs for her research:

Then he invited me tohis beach cottage in Malibu, his hand all the while snaking up my thigh. Wecould discuss the grant, he said, and enjoy a some relaxation and recreation.He winked at the word recreation and said he bet I looked fabulous in a bikini.It was at that point that I got up and took my leave. Dr. Gilmore followed meto my car and said I should think about it. I answered him by running over histoes.

The P-town Queen is coming to Champagne Press next June

Need more snippets? Get your fix at Six Sentence Sunday

Sweet Saturday: When Marco met Nikki

This week's Sweet Saturday Sample is a scene from The P-town Queen.  The first time Marco sees Nikki, he is sitting on a bench near the pier. He meets her not long after:

 
I went through the door and there, inthe corner of the room, was a metal desk and sitting on the desk was the redheadfrom the pier. I couldn't have been more surprised if it had been Fat Philsitting there. My stomach did a loop-di-loop, like I was in the sixth grade andjust found out the popular girl had the locker next to mine. I told myself toquit being a dumb ass. I had exactly two cents rubbing together in the pocketof my only pair of pants.            She was talking to the guy from the pier. The youngerone that looked like her. She caught me in her gorgeous brown eyes, blinked afew times, and asked if she could help me. "Yeah, yes," I said. "I'm here aboutthe research. The assistant. Job. Research assistant."           "Findme an office and they will come," said the guy.           Towhich the redhead gave him a look that might have killed him. "And how is itthat job applicants magically appear?"            "Theflyer," I said. "At Ella's Place."           "Flyerat Ella's Place?" The redhead had turned the killer stare at me.           "Theyweren't. She didn't. They were under the counter. I saw. I was. I really needthe job."  I took a deep breath. "So ifyou tell Dr. Silva. I'm available. For an interview." Jesus, Mary and Joe, itwas lucky that drool didn't come running out of my mouth.           Theguy put a hand to my shoulder and said, real quiet, "She is Dr. Silva," whichreally made me feel like the friggin idiot I'd turned into.           "NickSilva? She's Nick Silva?"           "Nikas in Nicola," said the guy.              "It'sa mistake. My mistake. I'm mistaken. Sorry."           "Shemakes people nervous. But she's not so tough. I'm her brother, I ought to know.Billy." He held out his hand.           "Ido not make people nervous," said Nik Silva.           "Askher about Rusty's boat."            Niksighed. "There is no job. Mr.…?"            Andhere's where thing got dicey. In giving myself a new identity I forgot to giveme a new name. Any self-respecting witness protection program will give you anew name and I sure as hell didn't want to use the old one. Nik Silva waskind of staring at me again and my pulse rate was up around two hundred, so Ispit out the first thing came into my head.           "Parker.Parker Bench." I wished, right after I said it, that I could have taken itback. I wished I'd have come up with something, anything, else: Jerry Lewis orPhillip Morris or Captain Crunch. Just about anything would have been betterthan Parker Bench.
The P-town Queen is coming to Champagne Press in June of next year.


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The Small Stuff: Thirteen of my Favorite Little Things

It's November and Thanksgiving is only two weeks away. As the song goes, little things mean a lot. Today I thought I'd reflect on a few small things that I'm thankful for because they make life a little bit better:

Thirteen Wonderful Little Things:

1. The smell of fresh ground coffee beans
2. The strum of silver strings on an acoustic guitar
3. The color of sky before sunset
4. The warmth of sun on a winter day
5. Chocolate.
6. The touch of skin on skin
7. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils
 8. Wildflowers blooming on the side of the highway
 9. The laughter of children at play
10. Fresh baked bread with butter
11. Frost painted on windows and grass
12 Soft kisses
13  Words that come together, sing and fly.

What small things are you thankful for?
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When I was young and empty

I'm joining in at Poetry Jam this week. The idea was to write a poem about windows. This, a piece I've re-vamped and dusted off, actually came from a line of a Galway Kinnell poem titled "Flying Home".
I used the line as a lead-in title and ended up as my childself, staring out the window.













When I was Young andEmpty

Chandeliers hung outside my bedroom window.These were the stars, but I did not know that then.I held light on the tips of my fingers, my palmspressed against the pane, my hands spread openon the glass.Penlights illuminated each nail.And within was a fire of my own making:my blood rising to redden the strata, gatheringlight into a lifeline.
For more poems and some lovely photos of windows, visit Poetry Jam

Six Sentence Sunday

My first offering for Six Sentence Sunday come from P-town Queen, which is coming to Champagne Books next June.


The hero, Marco, catches his first glimpse of the heroine:



Had you asked before the minute when the redhead walked past, I would have said the whole thunderbolt thing was a myth; that no man on earth had, to my knowledge and experience, ever been struck that way. I would have kept on believing that, too, but the redhead looked at me with these big brown eyes. Her hair was wavy and the sun played on it like you'd want to write a poem about it. And then she smiled this smile like she'd known me all my life and Jesus, God I was hit by it. The thunderbolt. No kidding. 
For more Six Sentence Snippets visit: Six Sentence Sunday

Sweet Saturday Sample

Over the next few weeks, I thought I'd share some hero meets heroine moments. This one is from my work in progress. It's still under construction and the scaffolding hasn't been removed. It's a romantic comedy, the working title is "Searching for Superman"

She marched down the driveway towards the van, readyto tell the Castle Creature just what she thought of abhorrently tardybehavior, when out of the van jumped superman.      Hedidn't look so much like superman as a man dressed for a Halloween party. Hewas too short for a super hero, for one, only a few inches taller than Stephanie.He was more wiry than muscular. He was cute, though, he had a full head oflight brown curly hair and nice eyes. Not blue, like Christopher Reeve's hadbeen, but hazel. The eyes were looking right at her.        "Spellman?" he asked. When Stephanie didn'tanswer, he smiled apologetically. "The GPS in the Van isn't working. And thisdevelopment is a maze. I felt like I was in an episode of Lost. In which I wasreally lost.  I figured I'd eventuallyrun out of gas and Jane would have to put out an APB."  He looked at Stephanie with those hemlockeyes again. "Sorry."      "Youare not supposed to be Superman."      "What?"Superman went to the Van and drew a paper off the seat. "I'm sure. Yup. Saysright here. Superman."      Stephanietook the paper from him and crumbled it. "You are supposed to be Cinderella."      "No."Superman looked at her with a combination of horror and confusion."Cinderella?"      "It'sa princess party. So you better have Cinderella in that van of yours."      "It'snot my van. And, no, I don't have Cinderella hiding under the backseat." Hegave her a no-harm-no-foul sort of shrug. "Let me call Jane."      Stephaniewaved her cell phone at him. "What do you suppose I've been doing for the lasthour? "      "Okay,okay. She's probably... let me go back to the shop see what I can do."      Heturned to get back into the van. Stephanie gave his cape a tug. "You are notleaving. You can't leave. There are twenty five children terrorizing my sister'shouse and you have got to stop them."
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