Ute Carbone's Blog, page 56
November 2, 2011
Thirteen Reasons to Love Electricity
So Today, I'd like to do a tribute to electrical power.
Thirteen reasons to love electricity:
1. You can take a shower without getting hypothermia.
2. You don't have to read with a flashlight taped to your forehead.
3. One pair of socks will do you.
4. You and your significant other don't have to act out scenes from Law and Order SVU unless you really, really want to.
5. You won't feel like an idiot every time you flip a light switch
6. You don't have to drive to Barnes and Noble to check your e-mail.
7. You don't have to eat hot dogs and marshmallows every night because they're the only thing you can cook in the fireplace.
8. You don't have to wear a hat because you haven't washed your hair in a week.
9. No more setting the milk out on the deck and hoping the opossums don't find out about it.
10. The coffee maker works!!!
11.No more driving around town all night just to stay warm.
12. It's much easier to write with mittens off.
13. You can link in and do Thursday thirteen.
Do you love electricity? Add your reasons here!
Check out more Thursday lists at Thursday Thirteen
Why Read Women's Fiction?
Here's Darian's take on why you might like to read women's fiction:
Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden "…Memoirs gradually unfolds to reveal the courage, love, daring, and hope of an intensely human — and, it turns out, surprisingly modern — woman."
The Help by Kathryn Stockett"…In a page-turner that brings new resonance to the moral issues involved, she spins a story of social awakening as seen from both sides of the American racial divide."
Something Blue by Emily Griffin"Highly entertaining . . . Despite a happy ending, Giffin raises thorny questions. A long friendship can (like marriage) turn claustrophobic or abusive. Is infidelity the solution? And why are pretty girls so easily taken in by scheming Plain Janes?"
How to make an American Quilt by Whitney Otto"An extraordinary and moving reading experience, How to make an American quilt is an exploration of women of yesterday and today, who join together in a uniquely female experience. As they gather year after year, their stories, their wisdom, their lives, form the pattern from which all of us draw warmth and comfort for ourselves."
These reviews span from The Boston Globe to New York Times. Almost all of us will recognize these titles, have read them, or seen the love for these books bring our favorite stories to the big screen and touch the nation. What do all of these titles have in common? They're women's fiction.
There are many misconceptions about women's fiction, one being that it is some sort of hybrid; Sex and the City meets chic lit meets romance novels, it's a blanket term people throw around without really knowing what they're covering. But the clearest definition of women's fiction is this: it's fiction for women readers. Meaning, fiction for all of us, fiction about all of us.
So why read this genre that all too often accidently gets dumped into genres we might not wander to? Because they're books that are relatable to all of us on some scale, grand or small. All of the women in these stories are us or parts of our life, in some form. They're flawed, beautiful, ordinary, the wallflower, weak yet strong, blinded by love or push their love to the side for the sake of someone else. They break molds, they fill molds perfectly. They are the smile we paint on during the day, and the quiet tear we shed in the darkness. They are what we hope to become, they are our secret dream, they are what we fear to become. They are the victim and the clumsy hero. They are everyday women.
Reading women's fiction is the same reason I write women's fiction; because I love love but hate the perfect hero. Because I love a character that I can relate to, flaws and all. Because I love stories that feel real, and stories that make me feel. Because I love stories that imitate life in realistic yet entertaining ways - that life is messy and complicated, not always what you expected but still the best ride of you'll ever go on. Because being a mom, wife, daughter, lover, friend, being a woman is hard – and the most rewarding challenge we will ever face.
The books I mentioned at the beginning are best selling books, so much so that they were all turned into movies to touch an entirely different kind of audience. They're not chic lit, romance, or drama's, they're women's fiction. And they're bestsellers for a reason; they're all stories with real women inside them. Like the very women who bought these books.
Why read women's fiction? Because they're books about you, about me, about your mom, your friend, the boss you hate, and the co-worker you love to ignore. They're stories that unravel our lives, the lives of women we see every day, our failures and growth. Revealing a whole new woman and world we never expected to find from the seemingly ordinary woman on the surface. They're written about us, for us, tailored to things we think about, whether we say them out loud or not. They do for readers what we as women do every day; make you feel, think, fight, try, grow, and love. Women's fiction shows the complexity and beauty, of us.
Darian Wilk is the author of Love Unfinished, released in October, and blogger at Crazy Lady with a Pen. Please visit her website to read more about her debut novel, or enter the current giveaway. Love Unfinished is available through Darian's website, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords.
October 29, 2011
Sweet Saturday
For more snippets, spooky and not, visit Sweet Saturday Samples
Chapter 1 Nikki
I did not blow up the Mona Lisa. Not only did I not blow up the Mona Lisa- an old leaker of a boat whose blowing up could be construed as a favor to the aptly named Rusty Cook- I did not blow up any part of Rusty's marina. My brothers will, of course, say otherwise. They had quite the laugh at my expense over coffee at Ella's Place. Rusty had been on the lookout for a boat for me. A good fishing vessel, I'd told him. And a cheap one, because God only knew how much money I'd be able to squeeze out of the Massachusetts Bay Commission for the research grant proposal I'd spent three long months laboring to produce. It had taken a lot of gumption and crow-eating to get to a place where I could consider buying a boat. The head of the commission was Ned Anderson. Ned, a brilliant shark researcher in his own right, had tumbled a long way: to full time administrator of a bullshit state commission. Though to hear Ned say it, it wasn't a tumble but a reward for all the years he'd spent roughing it on a California channel island- an island that only had electricity every other day- in order to unlock the mystery of white shark feeding behavior. I had spent five years on that island with Ned. We were married at the time.
P-town Queen: Coming to Champagne Books Blueberry Truth available now from etopia press
October 25, 2011
The Online All the Time Blues
It began with the release of my first book in August. (Inserting shameless plug here- Blueberry Truth, available via Etopia Press and all fine e-book distributors. 5.99. Download instantly!) The brave new world of e-book publishing has been a boon to writers like me, newbies who'd like to be given a chance to break into the wild and wacky world of authorship. Unlike self-publishing, small presses give a writer the support of editors, cover artists and distribution. And some marketing, too. But because they are small and have limited budgets, most e-book publishers expect writers to do a lot of stumping on their own. You've got to get your name out there, you've got to let the reading public know you have a book out (Blueberry Truth, 5.99) and that there will be more books to come (P-town Queen coming in June 2012) and more still in the works. I'm a marketing neophyte. Before this summer, I knew next to nothing about guest blogging and book review sites. I didn't know a blog hop from a sock hop. I'm learning, though. I've got a website, a blog, a Facebook fan page and a growing list of followers on Twitter. I'm on Good Reads, Manic Readers, and Amazon Authors. I check in with the writers at SheWrites and Litopia. I like being connected. It's been a joy to meet other writers online and to hear what readers are reading. I check in as often as I can. I'm addicted. I'm worried that if I don't slow down, I may start shouting "hashtag am writing" and "status update" in my sleep. I may start forgetting to brush my teeth. I've heard it's a common malady among first-time authors. The antidote is simple: Don't think you have to be on every social site. Find what works best for you. And for the love of all that's holy, unplug once in while. So this is what I'm going to do. For at least a few hours a day, I'm going to shut the laptop down. I'm going to go for a walk in the park. I'm going to pick up my pen and write. Just write. One sentence, then another. I'm going to start right now. Right after I check my e-mail and update my Facebook status.
October 21, 2011
Sweet Saturday Samples
Check out all of the samples at:Sweet Saturday Samples
Here at school, we're having a summer bash. There's watermelon, lawn games, and face painting. When the governor's wife stopped by a few months ago, we managed to impress her with our hard work and dedication. So much so, the governor's office has donated a bouncy bounce for our bash.The bouncy is a huge hit. Simon has found something he likes better than swings. I let him spend most of the afternoon bouncing, but it's bus time now. "Mom will be waiting." I've already got Jared at the ready. I'm pretty sure Simon's going to pitch a fit. Sure enough, we have to go in after him. And here's another change in Blue. A month ago, she would have pitched right along with him. Now she stands and waits for me to finish. Jared and I manage to escort Simon to his bus. It's hot, and I'm already thinking Blue and I will stop at Schlossman's on the way home for cold cokes. I'm about to bring this up to Blue when Chandra finds me and asks if I've got a minute.Chandra and I go up to my empty classroom. Jared has agreed to wait with Blue. I can see her from the window. She's on the swings, pumping her legs hard and laughing with Jared, looking so much like any happy little girl that I tear up."She's doing well.""We have our moments. But, yes, she's doing great. With a little luck, she might be ready for a regular school come fall." In the wildest and most hopeful of my dreams, we send her to St. Mark's, Mac and I sign adoption papers, and she's ours. These are things I don't voice aloud. Not even to Mac."I hate to admit this, but I was wrong. You and Mac are the best thing that's ever happened to that child.""She's worth it." A creepy premonition follows. And I know without Chandra saying anything. I know. "Her mother." I'm afraid of the possibility."She's back."I watch Blue jump from the swing, a blur of little girl. I'm always amazed at the elasticity in the kids I teach, at how they're able to come back, time and again, from the worst of circumstances. It's one of the reasons I stay here. Of course, they can never be entirely fixed. Some scars never go away. All of them strong, though. They manage to go on. Blue Crowley is strongest of the strong. For months, I've watched her climb out of darkness. I've listened to her cry for her mother. I've listened and waited and watched. And just when there's a respite, just when it seems she might be able to move on, it gets all turned upside down."We can't tell Blue.""Beanie.""No, Chandra. Look at her. We can't send her back there. We can't. It isn't fair.""Blue's mother wants another chance. It's her kid.""She gave birth to her. So what? When Blue wakes up at 2 a.m. so paralyzed by fear she can't move, I'm the one who goes to her. I'm the one who lays in bed with her until she goes back to sleep."Chandra watches out the window, not looking at me. "Knowing that doesn't change the facts. Blue has a right to her mother. And Blue's mother has a right to her child.""No. She has no right. She threw that right away when she left Blue to be abused. She discarded her kid, treated her like some beat-up old recliner. And now she wants her back? No.""She's cleaned up her act. Five months of rehab. She's clean. She's trying, Beanie. We have to help her. You'd agree with me if this weren't about Blue. You know you would."I have no answer. Because this isn't about some other kid. This is about Blue. My Blue. I don't want to give her up. My Blue. Though she would give me up in a second. She'd leave me for her mother, no questions asked. That's what hurts the most. "How long?""I don't know. DSS is still doing intake. She's going to fight for her, Beanie. You should know that."Her words start to sink in. I have to let go, and I don't have a chance.
Blueberry Truth is available through Etopia Press, at Amazon and through most other e-book distributors.
October 17, 2011
Public Readings
But I like reading in public. Sure, it's nerve wracking and it can be disheartening if only two people show, but it also allows you to connect in new ways with your readers. When I was writing poetry, readings were very much a part of the process. It was a quick check on poems- you can tell from the audiences reaction whether you have them hooked or whether they'd rather be out in the rain, even without the umbrella.
September 30, 2011
Book Buzz
http://www.ibookbuzz.com/Vote-for-Next-Book.html
September 11, 2011
Blog Day
September 6, 2011
Q&A Today
http://biblioparadise.wordpress.com/2...
August 5, 2011
Blueberry Truth is here!!!!
Blueberry Truth is now available from Etopia Press!
Beanie MacKenzie and her husband Mac have led perfect lives, with perfect families and perfect jobs they both love, he a leading cardiologist, she a teacher at a school for troubled children. Now they have the perfect home, a big house on a quiet Albany street, just perfect for raising a big family. Only the babies they've been trying so hard to conceive just won't come.
Stressed in her marriage and fearing she may never bear children, Beanie throws herself into her work, surrounded by society's throwaways. Enter Beanie's new student, seven-year-old Blueberry Truth Crowley, a fiercely independent child whose life had been anything but perfect. Abused, neglected, and mistrustful of everyone around her, Truth throws a monkey wrench into the perfect order of Beanie's classroom--and into her very life--challenging Beanie's notions of motherhood, commitment, and family. But their unlikely bond may be just the thing to teach them both about love.
Excerpt
Floyd walks into class wearing a lime-green Hawaiian shirt. "Wow, Floyd," I say. "Nice shirt, kid."
His smile is nearly as blinding as his clothes. "My brother got me three." He holds up three fingers. The shirts probably fell off the back of a truck, but I won't say anything about that.
The rest of the kids filter in one by one. Todd's hair has started to grow back; the little blond fuzz makes him look like a baby chick. Elena can't stop talking about her new baby niece. And Simon stands near the door on one leg with his head cocked to the side. I ask what he's doing.
"I'm Snoopy."
We settle in, nine kids humming along during reading. Nine kids doing math without a hitch. I glance at Dot, helping Keisha with math problems, and she glances back and raises an eyebrow. It's nearly lunchtime, and I know she's thinking what I'm thinking: this can't last. Turns out, the first incident after vacation happens without much of a bang when Sister Mike pops her head into my very peaceful room and asks if she might have a word.
Sister's office is the size of a broom closet and has her desk and two chairs squeezed into the space. Usually, there's one kid or another doing time in one of the chairs. But not today, and Sister invites me to sit, her broad dark face beaming with a beatific look that can only mean trouble. "I know you already have nine children in your classroom, Beanie."
This is the conversation I've been dreading. State regulations allow a maximum of ten kids in a class like mine, the ratio being five to one with Dot, my assistant. This doesn't take into account that Todd likes to wander off, Eddie has psychotic episodes, and Simon and Ray Ray are autistic. Every kid in my room would benefit from one-on-one. Sister knows this. She's been very careful about guarding my students and keeping class size at nine. A tenth child isn't illegal, but it should be.
"It's an emergency. I don't want to, but I have no choice."
I sigh and lean back in the chair.
"She's too old for Anna's room, and Terry has ten in his group already."
"A little girl?"
"Blueberry Truth Crowley. Called Truth." Sister hands me a thin folder. "She's been assigned to Chandra. Sounds like she's going to need a lot."
All of my kids need a lot. Most of them have incident notes and individualized education plans the size of the Manhattan phone book. "This won't tell me much."
"True," she says as I page through. "She doesn't have an IEP yet."
"She was in a regular classroom?"
"Up until before vacation. She was having some difficulty. She's been to eight schools in three years, so I imagine she's fallen between the cracks." Sister folds her hands together as though she's about to pray. "On Saturday, she assaulted her uncle with a baseball bat. Broke his nose while he slept. The uncle claims she tried to kill him. He may press charges."
Kids get sent to this school for all sorts of reasons. I've had children in my class who set fires, children who ran away from home, and children who were taken out of abusive or neglectful homes. But I've never had a kid who attempted murder.
