S.M. Johnson's Blog, page 27

Thursday Morning Coffee - Fury of Fire

Late coffee today, but sometimes isn't that the best kind? It means you got to sleep in, or at the very least didn't have to be up and at it in the wee hours.

Speaking of coffee, somebody in my family is trying to convince me to be an Organo Gold coffee distributor and sent me some samples with instructions to drink only Organo Gold for several days to see how I feel.

Health food coffee? Not a bad idea.

Yeah. Except what she sent me was (1) packet of Cafe latte; (1) packet of black coffee; (1) packet of hot cocoa, and (1) packet of green tea.

So let's just say... I don't drink tea, and I rarely drink hot cocoa - only in the late evening when I'm craving coffee but have to be to work early in the morning. And truth be told, I finally bought a canister of decaf for those nights, because I always prefer coffee over cocoa, and my blood sugar hates for me to drink cocoa. (Speaking of blood sugar, my diagnosis has been changed from "diabetic" to "hyperglycemic" - a HUGE yay for that! Only my labs from my original diagnosis in 2009 have been within the parameters of "diabetic" - with a bit of weight loss-gain-loss-gain and watching my carb intake, I have kept my blood sugar within the normal range - without medication - for three years!)

Anyway - we were analyzing coffee, weren't we?

So, let's count how many coffee packets I received. (1) cafe latte and (1) black coffee = (2).

Each packet makes 1 cup of coffee.

I cup = what, 8 ounces?

I have a fabulous NaNoWriMo coffee cup that holds 16 ounces of coffee, and I refill it a MINIMUM of 4 times a day. That's 64 ounces. (Read a tribute to the brown NaNoWriMo travel mug). Let me just say, upon reading this, that I am glad I have TWO of them. If you follow the link you can see the travel mug. I would post my own picture, but the uploader keeps turning it sideways, and that is really lame.

So anyway. Here is the determination: The only way I can drink Organo Gold coffee exclusively for several days is to buy a ton of it. And frankly, the latte didn't taste all that great, so I probably won't. Sorry family member who wants me to become a coffee distributor.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0069INUZE Okay, how about some lazy fiction?

By "lazy" - I mean I am going to post a link to a sample of Coreene Callahan's writing. A fun and whimsical interview is what enticed me to buy the book. Here is the Author attempting to interview her main character. This is just an awesome writing sample, and it sucked me right in.

I have started reading Fury of Fire, but only just, so I really can't write a review, or even offer much of an opinion yet. So far it looks like something readers of paranormal romance would enjoy.

There's an author interview here.

Have a great Thursday, darlings, and a great weekend!

I have to get cracking on writing some words so I can keep ahead of ya'll with A year of Sundays! The blog is catching up to me - dangnabbit, how did that happen?

Bloody Monday - Hamilton's Jean Claude

[image error] With so many vampires to choose from, it's hard to pick just one.
But just for a rocking good time, let's pick Jean Claude from the amazing Anita Blake series by Laurell K. Hamilton. (Marvel comics is doing something with the Anita Blake series, too - FYI)

Now - the first thing I have to admit is the last Anita Blake installment I read was "Flirt." There are three books after Flirt, but I am avoiding them at the moment because the next book is Bullet. And I got the feeling from Hamilton's tweets while writing Bullet that someone I care about a lot is going to die in that book, and I am scared.

Yes. I am scared to read a book.

If either werecat Jason or Nathanial died, well, I would be shattered. So anyway, let's just say that I'm not ready to face it yet, but one day I will rip the band-aid off. But not today.

Meanwhile, back at the (laz-e-boy chair) ranch... Let's talk more about Jean Claude, because he his sooo yummy.

Hamilton sets up what I think of at the original ardeur - that is, a vampire's ability to feed from the lust and sex of others. Whoa - how hot hot hot is that?

He'll make you feel all sexy and horny, and make you want him, and then your wanting of him increases his power. Damn, even better than blood, right?

But of course, the object of his ardeur is Anita - and she's not all that thrilled about being a dead guy's lover, so she has a terrible internal struggle, which she ultimately loses - and Blake fans were tickled for her to lose. Because come on, vampire fans, Jean Claude is exactly what we love in a vampire - cold, calculating, manipulative... and yet, somewhere in his cold heart he's actually quite attached to prickly little Anita Blake.

In the early parts of the series, the struggle between Anita and Jean Claude also pulled in Anita's love interest, werewolf Richard. Richard loves Anita and hates Jean Claude, but circumstance and Jean Claude's power combine to make Richard become Jean Claude's wolf to call, and Anita to become his human servent. Oooh, talk about evil, right? That Laurell K. Hamilton has no problem putting her beloved characters into really uncomfortable situations.

There's an extended push and pull between the three of them throughout the series - Richard and Jean Claude each at times issue Anita the ultimatum to choose one of them and forsake the other, but Anita stands firm. And the way their powers get combined and interwoven pretty much makes it impossible for Anita to choose without bringing harm to herself or someone she loves.

For a character who has some really firm physical boundaries (that would be Anita, folks) - she is forced to face the situations that make her uncomfortable and forced to grow into a person who accepts love, high regard, and physical affection. The physical affection part really comes forth when she become Namir-ra (female pack leader) to a pack of werecats, who experienced increased anxiety if their pack leader doesn't show them physical affection.

Jean Claude's powers (from Wikipedia):

Powers and Abilities of Jean Claude
Jean Claude is an incubus, and so gains power through sex and lust. After forging the triumvirate with Anita and Richard he becomes the sourde de sang of his own Bloodline. Like all vampires his powers grow stronger with age. His general master class abilities include:

Being able to disguise the perception of his true age (seeming older or younger as he chooses) to the senses of other vampires, as well as enhancing his beauty.

The ardeur, which allows him to gain power ("feed") from lust and sex. His first business, the strip club Guilty Pleasures, allows him to use the ardeur to his advantage. In Cerulean Sins Jean-Claude becomes sourde de sang of his own line when Belle-Morte is no longer able to use her own ardeur to feed from him.

Hypnosis, including using his voice, gaze, and aura to excite or calm humans, lycanthropes, and lesser vampires.

Calling wolves and werewolves.
Flight.

Controlling the magics of Anita and Richard and being able to shut them down.

Forming a triumvirate with his human servant, Anita, and his animal to call, Richard.

Superhuman strength, speed, healing, endurance, agility, and senses (able to smell a human's emotional state and night vision) far superior to those of younger, non-master vampires.
~

Mmm, yeah, Jean Claude is hot. Not mentioned above, but he can use his voice alone to set Anita's nerves on edge, and he has a certain laugh that sounds like breaking glass. That really stuck with me.

As a reader, I'm always a little amazed (and bummed out) when Anita resists him. I wouldn't even want to resist him. But of course, I'm not Anita. 
So... tell me - what do you love about Jean Claude?

A Year of Sundays, ch 9 pt 3

[image error] Chapter 9 - Sunday June 26
Part 3 of 3

Silas showed up at my house Sunday morning, just as I was at my wit's end trying to get Annabelle to move from the house to the truck. She was spending the day with Sam's mother, and was not very excited about it.

"I don't want to go to grandma's. It's boring there."

"I'm sorry it's boring. Bring a book. You promised you'd help her with the rummage sale, and you're going. The end."

Every year I thought raising my daughter would get easier. Every year it did not.

Silas raised an eyebrow at me and said, "Sobered up, yet, Sis?"

"Ha-ha," I said. "I should hope so. What are you doing here?"

"Isn't Sam doing something to your car today? I thought I was supposed to pick you up. We talked about it when Sam came to get you the other night."

I vaguely remembered something about that. Maybe. "Huh. I forgot. I'll have to remind him." And when I did, Sam groaned, because he'd forgotten, too. "New headlight," I reminded him. "And check out that awful squeaking belt noise. And an oil change would be nice. And a wash."

"You're funny," Sam said. "Give me your keys."

I rode with Silas to Mom's house. Or... Josie's house, I guess, because that's who lives there now. Josie and Jeremy. Silas still wasn't a hundred per cent comfortable with that.

Josie and Jeremy were in the kitchen making hamburger patties.

"We're going to grill again," Jeremy explained. "Special recipe hamburgers."

"That's special," Silas said.

"We watched a cooking show last night," Josie giggled. "So we learned all about grilling and backyard ambiance."

"You are so gay," Silas growled.

Jeremy laughed, "Yup. Out and proud. Just like you."

Silas growled again, without words this time.

"Grilling works for me," I said, "because I don't have to cook. I'll get the chairs out." I headed to the garage. Silas came to help.

"Man," he said, shaking his head. "Those two are like… in each other's pockets."

"Jealous?" I asked.

"Weirded out," he said. "God only knows what Jeremy is telling her."

"I'm sure it's fine," I said, because why wouldn't it be?

By the time we'd dragged all the chairs into the back yard and put the cushions on them, wiped down the outdoor tables, and put the cushions on the yard swing, Elizabeth and Eric arrived.

I passed out soda for Liz and wine coolers for everyone else, and we all settled.

"Is Sam coming?" Eric asked.

"Maybe later," I said. "He has to do some maintenance on my car."

Elizabeth asked, "So Jessamine, what's the story of the week?"

"Well," I said, "Silas came out at work."

"He did WHAT?" she looked horrified.

"Oh, I did not," Silas said, still grouching.

Melanie joined us then, and right behind her, and quite shocking to me, was Alex.

Alex from Friday night at Grandma's Saloon.

"You don't think coming out to your secretary is coming out at work?" I waved at Melanie and winked at Alex, although them being together didn't make any sense to me at all. "No beer?" Melanie asked, and grabbed a wine cooler.

"She said she wouldn't tell anyone," grumbled Silas.

"Yeah, right," I said. "She can't wait to tell everyone."

He groaned.

"You gave her permission to," I reminded him.

"Oh my God, everyone is going to know." Elizabeth was genuinely upset.

"I don't see what the big deal is," I said. "That's kind of the point, tell someone who will tell a bunch of people, and then you're out. No more hiding."

"I liked hiding. It was comfortable," Silas complained.

Melanie sat forward and said, "Oh bullshit. Hiding is for cowards."

"I'm not a coward," he refuted.

"Exactly," she said, and finished her cooler in one long swallow.

"God, do you have any filing I can do tomorrow?" I asked. "I'd love to see people's reactions as the news gets around."

"There won't be any reactions. They wouldn't dare."

"I hope you don't lose business," Elizabeth said.

"Liz," Eric said, "I'm not sure now is the time – "

"Well, I'm just saying," she cut him off, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Fuck it," Silas said, "Jeremy was going to out me one way or another. I figured Susan could handle it, and she'll handle anyone who doesn't. That's why I employ her – she takes care of things. I don't expect a single raised eyebrow or second look over the news. If I lose business, well, it's not like I need the money. I'm doing all right. There's no point in even trying to hide it when I'm constantly tripping over Jeremy. Who's going to look at him looking at me and not figure it out? I could introduce him as my nephew, but people will believe that for all of three seconds. I may build dreams, but I do live in reality."

Liz clapped her hands. "Very nice speech. You going to give that one when you win the Minnesota Architectural Award?" She closed her eyes, let out a long sigh, and shook her head, wearing her disapproval like a nun's mantle.

Melanie asked, "Why should you stress out more about it than Silas, Liz? It's not like it has any bearing on your daily life."

"I don't know," she answered. "But it really bothers me that people will know. I mean, we're Meyerhoffs. In Duluth. We don't breed gay people."

"Obviously we do," I said, thinking not just of Silas, but of Alex kissing me on Friday night.

After we left Grandma's, we somehow coaxed Sam into taking us to the Main Club, tow truck loaded with my car and all, where Alex and I did a little dancing and a lot more kissing. I dared not think of it much right this minute though, or I'd start blushing.

"It's not that big a deal, Liz," Eric soothed. "It doesn't reflect on you."

"Thank God gay people don't breed Meyerhoffs," Silas said, sighing, and for some reason that totally cracked everyone up.

"You guys should have been there," I said, laughing. "Silas was awesome. Susan asked him if Jeremy was like his nephew or something, and Silas told her he was his boy-toy. Man, the look on her face. Almost mirrored the look on yours, Liz, when Silas dropped his big news on everybody."

Melanie joined me in cracking up, and reached for another wine cooler. Alex, I noticed, was drinking soda. Slowly.

"Nice," Elizabeth said. "I need to let go and let God." She started doing deep breathing exercises. "Melanie, you could introduce your friend."

All in all, Liz really was handling this stuff pretty well. She even seemed to like Jeremy, now that he'd practically become a permanent fixture in the family.

"Sorry, arriving mid-discussion and all. This is Alex. We're friends from AA."

I shot Alex a look, and she flashed me a grin. "Sam and I know Alex," I said. "Nice to see you again."

Silas finally actually looked at her. "Oh, yeah. Hey. Didn't we meet just the other night, at Grandma's Saloon?"

"Yes, we did," Alex answered. "I didn't realize Mel and Jessie were sisters." She shook her head and laughed a little. "Duluth, man. Not even six degrees of separation. Too bad I missed the coming out part – that would have been fun."

"You know each other from AA," I said. "Are you supposed to share that information?"

Alex shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

Josie and Jeremy came out the back door of the house with a platter of hamburger patties and a stack of cheese.

"Ah, there's my boy-toy now, coming to feed me." Silas said, patting his stomach.

"Fuck off," Jeremy said, flicking a speck of raw hamburger in his direction.

Liz sighed. "Jo-Jo, did you call the doctor?" she asked.

"I did, yes. I can't get in to see him for a week. In the meantime, he called in prescription-strength Motrin and some kind of migraine med to try if I get a headache. He also wants me to keep a food and sleep journal."

"Do you need money for the prescription?" Silas asked, his eyes steady on her face.

"No, I have a flex dollars at the moment. Might as well use them."

"Who's paying the house bills, anyway?" I asked. Someone must be in charge of that."

"The estate lawyer," Silas said. "He's in charge for the year, said the mortgage and taxes are paid, and the utilities are on auto-pay. So no worries unless something breaks."

"So… I could stay here instead of going back to the dorms," Josie said slowly, "and save a lot of money."
"I thought you wanted to live in the dorms," I said, surprised.

"Well, you know, it was strongly encouraged for all freshmen, and it felt great getting out and being responsible for myself, and then it was habit. But now it's gotten pretty old. I'd love to live here this last year."

I nodded. "Well, see how the summer goes, but I don't have a problem with it if nobody else does."

Josie and Jeremy exchanged a look that overflowed with meaning. Jo-Jo looked like her eyes were watering.

"Let's shake it up next weekend," Josie said suddenly. "Let's circle the wagons at Fourth Fest, drink too much alcohol, spend way too much money on food, doze in the grass, and wake up in time for fireworks. Everybody comes. What do you think? It'll be like a celebration."

It sounded good to me, despite that Annabelle would be too hot and too thirsty and too bored. Maybe she was old enough to run the festival grounds on her own, especially if she ran into friends there. I'd have to talk it over with Sam – who was still slightly in the doghouse from last weekend when he didn't roll home until eight-thirty in the morning.

But that's a whole other topic.

Everyone agreed – we'd meet with our Sacred Sunday blankets and lawn chairs when the gates to the park opened Monday and have a Meyerhoff Family Fun day. Because pretty much whatever Josie wants, Josie gets.
~

Out of the Dungeon is FREE this weekend

        Click here to get Out of the Dungeon free for Kindle!


When reality interferes with fantasy...
[image error]
Club owner Roman has the perfect Master/slave relationship with his life-partner Jeff, and when they increase the eroticism of their play by bringing Dare into their bed, Roman has everything a man in his position could ever want.
~
But when Jeff is injured in an accident, there's no time for dungeon play. Traction is like non-consensual bondage, and Jeff calls "red."
~
You can take the Master out of the dungeon, but can you take the Dungeon Master out of Roman?
~While technically a sequel to Above the Dungeon, Out of the Dungeon is a fine stand-alone erotic read.

From the author:

If you read Above the Dungeon and wished to understand Roman a bit more, well, this is your lucky book! Out of the Dungeon is, in a sense, Roman's story. His past, his longings, his future. And if you've yet to read Above the Dungeon, Out of the Dungeon can be read and enjoyed as a stand-alone read. Enjoy.
I am celebrating that March came in like a lion and hoping it will be lamb-like from now on... maybe an early spring? I don't mind a good, rousing blizzard (especially when I don't have to go anywhere) but nothing makes me feel more cheerful than sunshine.

Happy Blizzard aftermath. How about a free read while we all recover from snow-shoveling?


Have a great weekend!


~SM

Thursday Morning Coffee - Snowed in on Leap Day...

Without coffee!

OMG. It was a crisis! I had to sip v-e-e-e-r-y  s-l-o-o-w-l-y while waiting for the power company technicians to do their thing, which, thankfully, they got done before the temperature in the house dropped below 60. I was getting nervous there for a while, but really - there's nothing wrong with snuggling into a fuzzy micro-fleece blankie and taking a long afternoon nap.

I also have my Kindle Touch loaded and charged (now that's thinking ahead) as well as the iPad, although with the modem and router down, the only internet access today was via iPhone. Which was all okay with me, because having a less-tech day is actually a bit refreshing.

Sprite, while initially tickled about having a snow day, developed hysterics when the power went out. "My technology is gone, oh, what am I going to do? I'm doing to d-i-i-i-e-e-e-e. What are we going to eat? We have no food! I'm going to s-t-a-a-a-r-v-e!" I understood Sprite's concern - she only eats about 4 things, macaroni and cheese and chicken strips being two of those, so indeed, the only option left to her was peanut butter and jelly or bologna and cheese sandwiches. Ahhh, the plight of the spoiled child.

Nonetheless, we did survive. It was questionable for a moment how many of us would survive, because the snotty tone and the dramatization got somewhat out of hand, but all is well now that the lights have come back on. And the Disney Channel, and the internet, and the... well, you know.

Exciting moment #1: the recycle bin tipped over and all the lovely lightweight things like cardboard and empty plastic bottles were skittering around the yard in 65 mpg swirling wind, but I caught them all, even when they gave me a run in my snow boots. (picture to the right absconded from Montgomery county site, it's not my county or my picture, but you get the idea).

I have lived here all my life, and never had a pair of Sorel boots until oh, maybe 3 years ago. I don't know what I was thinking - they are 100% worth the money (all of my Christmas money the year I bought them), and probably one of my most intelligent purchases. Ever. I needed them today, that's for sure.

Exciting moment #2: when I looked outside and noticed the man door to the man cave had blown open. Oh, this is not good. Particularly because just on the other side of that now-open door is the new pool table, and I'm not sure they're built to withstand snow drifts. Which is exactly what I found. A snow drift piling up against the pool table. 65 mpg swirling wind aimed directly at that door had actually shifted the door cock-eyed to the door frame, so the door actually would not close. Oh dear. At left - our actual pool table - and Sprite - in our actual man cave. Well, dad's man cave. We girls are allowed to visit, but whining and complaining has been banned (and so have magazines with titles such as "Ladies Home Journal" and "Redbook"), so if it's too smoky, cigar stinky, and dirty, buck it up or leave. Rules of the Man Cave. Yes, sir.

I am a resourceful chic. I looked around the cave and found some speaker wire hanging on a nail pounded into the garage wall. I tied it around the outside doorknob stretched it across the actual garage door opening - on the outside, because the garage door opening has been framed in to become a non-opening wall - and tied it to the bracket where we hang the electric bug zapper in the summer.

Easy-peasy? Um, no. But it held until a man-friend of the husband arrived to do a better job of it. Whew.

I'm a little sorry that I didn't take some pictures during the 65 mpg swirling crazy snow-wind. Of course, probably would have ruined my camera and the swirling snow-wind would look like a blurred out mess, because even with my eyes it looked like a blurred out mess.

This is what we got, between 6 am and 6 pm. And the thing of it is, it would have been NORMAL to be talking about a storm like this in November. In fact, typically our first big storm of the year here in northern WI would be before Thanksgiving. But this year had been really weird. THIS, on February 29th, is our first big storm. Which is crazy. Crazier still is that there are parts of the yard completely devoid of snow, and then there is the 6 foot drift around the shed, and the 3 foot drift up to the drivers side quarter panel of my car. And so while the pics aren't all that impressive, the huge randomly placed drifts actually are a lot cooler than they look.

We have turned into spoiled babies who don't want to deal with snow. I am so thankful that I have a few days off right now - because I have become a winter-weather pansy, (with the ink to prove it) and I'd have been in hysterics myself if I had to go driving around in this crazy weather. Ew, yuck. Stay home, people, just stay home. I found out late today that the City of Duluth closed, the banks closed, pretty much everything closed. I had no idea, being that I was cut off from the world. I did notice snow-routes were in effect when the semi-trucks starting going past the house all afternoon.

Anyway. I seem to be so chatty I almost forget this is a fiction blog. So let me go peruse the files and find some fiction for you fine folks to read with your morning coffee.

Okay, how about a little snippet, or what some might call a short-short. I have moments when I think I will develop this further when the other projects demanding my time are complete. What say you, darlings, yay or nay?



Bait and Catch We play this game of bait and catch. At least I know I'm playing it. I can only hope that she's playing with the same purpose. I dress and fix myself with particular care, attention given from head to toe – I am all girl, but not too girly to be dismissed.We make eyes at one another from across the room, track movements for an hour or more while we loosen up and get comfortable.I talk and laugh with my friends, same as she does, but it's all pretend, and when we lock gazes, I'm sure that we both know it.I brush my fingers lightly across the nape of her neck as I walk past on my way to the dance floor.For a minute I dance alone, eyes closed, letting my limbs and hips move to the music, refusing to allow myself to be self-conscious or shy. I dressed for this. I am beautiful. And I know she is watching, and my every move fuels her hunger.And yet, others join me first, dancing up to me with drinks held high, lips and smiles and eyes of strangers filling my sight. Hands that grab and twirl me, like a girly-girl, a lip-stick lesbian. Ha. They think I'm fake, pretend, and one of them even calls me a poser and a tease.And I catch a glimpse of her face as she stands up, jealous rage, because even though she doesn't want me, she wants me. And she definitely doesn't want anyone else to have me, touch me, capture my attention. Oh no, that won't be happening tonight.She circles me on the dance floor, not making any attempt to move to the music, and I circle away, making eyes at her, feeling my lips curve into a satisfied smile.She is predator, and I am prey. And that is just how I want it.The dance is the game, and the game is the dance, as she floats around me, in front of me, smoky eyes heavy-lidded, sensual, shooting messages into my center. Mine. My girl. And suddenly she stops in front of me, hands on my shoulders, and she laughs, and I laugh, too, before twisting away, watching her eyes over my shoulder as I turn."Catch me," I mouth to her, and she says out loud, "Oh, I will, baby. No doubt." And then she leaves the dance floor to finish her beer, order another.She's out of sight for maybe three minutes, and I miss her desperately. By the time she returns I am tired of flirting with others. I want her. I want to rest in her presence, lean into her arms.But then she's there, and she's close into my space, hips touching mine for a moment as arms reach and fingers brush, and she moves in ever closer, edging me toward the wall. I resist and try to move back center, but she blocks me, crowds me with her body until my ass hits the wall.And then she is on me, one hand behind my neck, fingers splayed into my hair, and for a second I see the sly smile at her lips, the satisfaction in her eyes, and then her mouth is on mine, our teeth clicking because I didn't accept her fast enough, and she's filling me, tasting me, sucking the breath out of me, and I can't breathe or think, only surrender. She pulls back for an instant, makes a noise like a purr, and takes me again, owning my every nerve, all of my senses. Her free hand is on my shoulder, fingers clinging, jabbing, then sliding over breast and down to hip, then curling around the curve of my ass, kneading and jerking my pelvis closer, holding me tight. And when she lets go I think there will be a moment of relief, but no, just a shift to the front, and her hand lands on my inner thigh, then glides up until it's between my legs, right there, pressing up hard, as if she wants to lift me right off my feet. And I am gone then, swooning into orgasm against the wall next to the dance floor, and I can't even hear the music anymore, just this tiny, high-pitched mewling noise that fills my ears, and I only realize that I'm the one making it when she lets me go. Oh my god. I'm hot and breathless and all I want in all the world is for her to do it again.~SM

Bloody Monday - The Wolf Gift

Okay, well, this won't happen too often, but since Anne Rice is my inspiration and the absolute Queen of Vampires, I'm going to set blood suckers aside this week to discuss The Wolf Gift.

I'd love it if ya'll reading it would come and play with me this week and share your thoughts.

Did you know that DeVante is a literary descendant of Louis, Lestat, and Armand?

I would mark my calendar and wait quite impatiently for the next Vampire Chronicle to be released, and on that day I'd hoof it up to Barnes and Noble and buy the hardcover for $26.95 + tax or whatever it was. And this, even, was back in the day when money was tight, and the price of a hardcover book was equal to a full tank of gas and then some. Oh, it was a luxury! And I treated it as such, clearing my schedule and snuggling with a couch blanket, sunflower seeds, and chocolate.

A new Anne Rice book was a gift.

I waited a year, sometimes two, for that new book; writers, and even Anne Rice, suffer the frailties of the human condition - illness, and sorrow, and heartbreaking loss. And these things change us, as they change everyone, and sometimes they slow us down.

So after what sometimes felt like a very long wait, I would devour the new book in 24 hours or less.

And then I would mourn the start of the next season of waiting.

My husband, who is a very realistic, "feet on the ground" sort of person, watched this process for two books, maybe three, and then he said, and I quote, "Why don't you write your own vampire book?"

(Famous last words and all of that).

What? What? But... I'm a poet. I'm not a writer of novels. And how could I possibly measure up to my own high literary standard?

And yet... I do have the "head in the clouds" quality - I'm the day dreamer, the wisher of wishes, the girl who loves to weave a great story.

I just hadn't done it on paper since I was a teenager.

The seed was planted and so it began to grow.

And it is hard to live up to my own literary standard. Sometimes I think I'm getting there, that I've created a vampire family that spans time, that has clever back-story not fully explored, that could outgrow its trilogy status and become a series... but I can't know these things at the outset.

What I know today is that I am holding The Wolf Gift in my hands, that it is 400 pages long, and that I have already read 200 of those pages. And that Anne Rice is still the master storyteller she was when I first discovered Interview with the Vampire.

I'm slipping into The Wolf Gift gently, tasting it one little bite at a time, and chewing slowly. I remember the experience of gobbling up the newest Rice novel, but I want this one to last longer than a day. I admire the simple cover, and how effortlessly Rice brings me into her newest world, how quickly she asks me to fall in love with Reuben, with Laura, and how easily I agree.

This, after reading something, somewhere, a quote attributed to Anne at the release of Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt, that said, "From now on I will write only for God."

My heart broke a little bit - not because I felt she was betraying her readers, not because of hypocrisy, not because I fall somewhere between being deist and atheist - but simply because I just don't find religion interesting. Which, perhaps, is merely a personal flaw.


I felt sad that the author I loved so well might become purely a Christian or religious writer, penning stories I had no wish to read.

And yet. To do justice to any story, a writer must follow where her heart goes, must capture and immerse herself into her questions, daydreams, and obsessions. And so I cannot criticize Anne for any part of her journey as a person or a writer.

But I've welcomed the chance to meet Reuben in The Wolf Gift, and it feels perfect - this is the writer-Rice that  blows me away.

I don't know if I will come to love Reuben as much as I love Lestat, but I'm willing to find out.

So... who else is reading The Wolf Gift, and what do you think?

A Year of Sundays, Ch 9 pt 2

Chapter 9 

Part 2 of 3
Susan raised her eyebrows at Jeremy, who said, "Silas, you've obviously had too much to drink, and now you've outed yourself at work. I thought you didn't want to do that?"
"Fuck it," Silas said, taking a sip of his drink.
"Cool, I can take off this too-flipping-hot shirt."  He did so, exposing the announcement on his t-shirt.
"I won't tell anyone," Susan said, blushing.
"Doesn't matter," Silas said. "He's going to out me from here to the Canadian border one way or another. Might as well start getting it over with."
Jeremy gave him a startled look and shook his head. 
"Oh come on," Silas said. "You're the one saying, 'How can you work with people who don't even know you? How can you stand it?' And you're the one wearing the screwball t-shirt."
"Well, nobody will hear it from me," Susan promised.
Silas grinned at her. "You're a good woman, Sue. It's not going to matter who says what – so long as my little pain in the ass here is around, people are going to figure it out. So again I say, fuck it."
"Might actually be good for business, you know," Jeremy suggested. "Creative gays are en vogue."
"Nope," Silas said. "The world is beyond thinking gay guys are cute. It's back to every day bigotry now."
"You don't know that," I said, although my words were like mush so I'm not sure any of them understood me.
Jeremy said, "Yeah, but... in a sense, that stuff served its purpose – a lot of people don't give a shit about gay or straight. Which is a lot more than I would've said when I was in high school. Even people your age are coming around."
"Well, thank you very much for that ray of sunshine. Want to show me the silver lining now?"
"You know what I mean."
"Yes, I do." Silas glared at his drink.
"Wait a minute," I said. "Some of us are okay."
"Jessie-mine, you are definitely not okay," Silas said, laughing. "Should we call a tow truck for you, or a cab?"
"I don't care," I said. "Call Sam. Call whoever you want. But listen, I don't care if someone's gay or straight. And it doesn't look like Susan cares. I mean, sure, she looks a little shell-shocked, but God, Silas, your being gay makes straight women cry themselves to sleep, so who can blame her for being surprised? You don't hate him for it, do you, Susan?"
"Only a little," she said, with a smile. "Once I cry myself to sleep, I'll be fine."
"See?" I said. "Whoa. Have to pee."
I slid off the high bar chair and barely caught myself when my knees buckled. "Whoops. Drunk. Still have to pee."
"Do you need help?" Susan asked.
"Nope," I said, "I got it." and pointed myself in the right direction. "Got it, gots it." I stumbled my way to the ladies room. I fell into a stall and it seemed to take an hour to unfasten my jeans. "Damn."
A voice floated to me through the door. "Do you need some help in there, Darlin'?"
It was a familiar voice, the voice of someone I knew I liked, but I couldn't place it for the life of me. Too drunk. Definitely too drunk.
"I'm too drunk to pee," I answered, and then started laughing. "Oh shit, I'm gonna wet myself."
The stall door pushed in and I started to fall, then braced myself with my face against the wall, half leaning against the toilet. "Shit, shit," I said, and leaned my forehead against the cool metal.
Strong, cool hands helped me upright. "Jessie, right?" she asked. "Do you remember me?"
I definitely knew that calm, beautiful voice.
It took some effort, but I focused my eyes on her face. "Alex? Oh my God. Where you been, Alex? Hashn't seen you in moths. Monthes. Forever." Alex was a friend of a friend, and I hadn't seen her in a long time.
"I haven't seen you either, baby. Here, let me help you with your jeans."
She got me unfastened and I shooed her out. "Okay, I got it. I got it."I got the job done, but man, buttoning up was just as complicated as unbuttoning. "Alex, you still here?"
"Yep."
Oh God. Was she waiting for me? I knew her, sort of. I had maybe a little crush on her along while back, and seeing her again, maybe I still had one.
I battled my way out of the stall, then leaned against the sink to look at her. "Hi," I said.        "Hi, yourself," she answered.
"Sorry, I never drink, but I'm juss, jess falling all over the place. Thanks for helping. You look beautiful. Haven't seen you in forever."
"I know. What have you been up to?" she asked.
"Oh just, you know. Stuff. My mom died, my brother came out. Crazy shit." I don't know what happened then, but I started to cry.
"Aww, sweetie," she said, and then her arms were around me, strong and tight, and it was more of a hold than a hug, and I leaned right into her, and it felt good.
And then she kissed me.
On the mouth.
I must have looked shocked, because she said, "I'm sorry. I've had a few too many, myself. Bad boundaries."
I got the giggles again, which was better than tears. "It's okay. I don't mind."
The bathroom door swung open just as Alex let me go. "Did you get lost, Jessie? Sam is here with a tow truck." Susan looked me up and down, and raised her eyebrows.
"I had a wardrobe malfie... malfu... problem. But we figured it out. Alex, come and meet my husband, Sam."
Alex greeted Sam with a familiar kiss to his cheek, helped me climb into the back seat of the truck, and then helped him select our musical journey home.
They talked over the music as I stared at them, bleary-eyed. They talked like they knew each other, like they were friends. And I couldn't figure out for the life of me how Sam and Alex would even know each other.

Thursday Morning Coffee

I chained myself to my desk (lazy boy chair) this week working on book stuff.

And I think I'm even getting better at this whole blog scheduling thing.

I'm impressed with myself, especially considering the weird day I've had.

How's that, you ask? Weird in what way?

Well. For starters... I watched 8 episodes of The Vampire Diaries today. It is unheard of for me to watch one television program in a day, much less EIGHT. I think Damon is my new vampire love. Mmm, Damon loves to be bad.

And he has certain expressions and attitudes that are wonderfully reminiscent of my all-time favorite TV heart-throb, Brian Kinney. Oh yeah. Color me addicted.

The reason I got to indulge in such visual stimulation is because I have been editing. And editing. And... well, you get the picture.

And yet, I'm not any more organized than I was when I started this edit two days ago. Oh, I have a novel's worth of words and pages, don't get me wrong - it's not a shortage of raw material that's the problem. The trouble is that I have lovely, wonderful, and near complete story arcs for all my favorite vamps - DeVante, Emily, Roderick, Daniel, Reed, Tony, Lily and Nick, the new guy.

Oooh, wanna see what Nick looks like?

He looks a little like this, but with eyeliner. Cuz I am silly that way. I don't know why. I wanted him to be exactly like a boy Roderick would totally fall for, because, of course, I am the evil god/author who is in charge. Well, who at least pretends to be in charge.

I have a few transitions to write, and maybe a half dozen more scenes, but then I can put this baby to bed, send to beta readers, edit some more, copy-edit, polish edit, blah blah blah, and nag Sven for a release date. Easy peasy lemon squeezy (yeah, I live with an 8 year old).

So yeah, as soon as I figure out what order to put all these pages into, I can tuck this one in. Unfortunately, at the moment, it's kicking my ass. But have no worries. This weekend I'll be pulling out the big guns: brightly colored index cards and the bulletin board.

It worked with the first novel, and it'll work with this one. And it's slightly more sophisticated than printing out the whole novel, laying the pages out end to end on the floor from the back door straight through to the master bedroom, and then "walking" through the book.

Believe me, I have done it both ways.

Let's see - other news... I received my pre-ordered hard-cover copy of The Wolf Gift by Anne Rice today, but of course, I could not allow myself to even crack it open on a full-writing day. No way. Because I know how that goes. Once I start, I cannot stop.

I trust Anne Rice to give me a story that I can sink my teeth into, whether she's writing about vampires, angels, or werewolves. In fact, I'm incredibly excited to discover her take on shape-shifters.

If there is one reader that I'm looking for, it's the one who totally gets me, and will trust me to lead them on a wonderful journey with every book I write, and who will forgive me the few that didn't quite do it for them. I am that reader for Rice. I know she can tell a story. I don't love everything she writes, but I love 95% of what she writes, and that earns a pre-order. I would love to hope for a quiet day at work tomorrow in which I can hang out and read, but that's asking for an awful lot. Perhaps I should be hoping I can't find those colored index cards - there's one way to procrastinate.

Okay. And now for Thursday Morning Fiction. Since I yammered on about so much other stuff, how about  Thursday Morning Poetry today? I'll offer two:


Love so much it hurts
If we never loved enough to hurt   then could we laugh until we cry?If we never take a risk   then all our ventures fall flat            (don't they?)I want to be safe and secureAnd I don't want to hurt you   and yetI want to love you so much it hurts.
~smj

Like Life
Walking, and among the dirt brown graya glintred gleam bright shinyand my heart hurts for a moment,then lifts,sudden sharp understanding.yeslife is like that.
~smj

Bloody Monday - Damon, Vampire Diaries

Ya'all are going to have to help me out here. Damon was nominated through blog comments, and I haven't read the books. Or watched the loosely based on the books television series. So I am basically writing in the dark, but I'm okay with that.

After a little research, however, I do think I am going to have to get myself some episodes of The Vampire diaries, because Damon is mmm... yummy!

Here's what wikipedia has to say about Damon:

[image error] • Damon Francesco Salvatore: (born October 31, 1487). Damon is Stefan's older brother who hates humans. He is shorter than Stefan but more powerful since he feeds off of human blood straight from the vein. Damon enjoys toying with Stefan and making him feel weak. He wants Elena the moment he sees her, just like Katherine Pierce, aka Katerina Petrova, but he has to work for her love, respect, and trust. Damon takes the form of a crow to spy on Elena. He has black hair, pale skin, disturbingly good looks, and black eyes. Elena eventually falls for him as well.

And about Elena, wiki says:


• Elena Marie Gilbert: (born July 4, 1974). She is the main character of the books. Elena is 17 and the most popular girl at Robert E. Lee High School. Elena is every boy's dream with pale golden hair so fair it almost seems to shimmer and creamy skin. Elena sees herself as a beauty, and is a little shocked and hurt that Stefan does not look her way in the beginning. Elena's best friends are Bonnie and Meredith. Caroline is a former friend turned enemy. Elena has a boyfriend, Matt, but breaks up with him because she mainly feels friendship for him. Elena has a little sister, Margaret, and lives with her Aunt Judith. When Elena and Stefan start to date, she realizes that their love may not last. She later also falls in love with Damon, Stefan's older brother.

And about Stephen, wiki says:

• Stefan Antonio Salvatore: (born November 5, 1492). Stefan is the mysterious new boy at Elena's high school. Stefan is of average height and dark, wavy hair and leaf green eyes. He initially does not give the other students the time of day and avoids Elena. Stefan also holds a secret: He's a vampire. However, he prefers to drink from animals instead of humans.

Yes, I do have a point in copying/pasting from wiki in my blog entry.

And my point is this: I already like Damon better than Stefan. I automatically like the vampire that drinks human blood better than the one who survives on the blood of animals. I like a dark and scary vampire, one who is really okay with being a vampire, or even, perhaps (omg, blasphemy alert) LIKES being a vampire. It's just one of my little things.

Sort similar to how I just don't care for vampires that go to high school. This is almost an immediate dislike for me. I mean, high school is like Hell. And that's coming from a person who didn't have a particularly difficult time in high school. I just straight up think that life without school is about a million per cent more enjoyable than life with school.

College was somewhat more pleasant, so I would be less inclined to pass on a book where the characters were in college. The high school bit, though, is almost an automatic pass for me. High school is an artificial environment. I mean, where else in life to you meet not just one person hiding who they really are, but three to eight HUNDRED people faking it, each and every agonizing day.

Ugh.

Again, I didn't have any particular trouble in high school. I wasn't "popular" but I wasn't bullied. The mean girls didn't bother me - probably because I didn't care about them all that much. I was a "Red Liner" (smoker), but I wasn't a "burner." I was briefly in the band, and then briefly on the speech team. In 10th grade I hung out with some seniors, and was a little at loose ends in 11th grade because my favorite people (for people, read "boys") had graduated. In 11th grade, one of my favorite people (read "boy") - committed suicide - and honestly, beyond that I hardly remember the rest of my time at that school, except for brief visits of one of those favorite "people" when he came to town to provide us with some drama and excitement. And now he's dead, too.

I guess what I'm trying to get across is that I wouldn't choose to re-live that time of my life, so for a vampire to spend eternity in high school is not a choice that I can understand or believe in. A vampire - man, a vampire can live anywhere and do anything that he wants to - he doesn't even necessarily need to embrace human morality.

So what makes writers set Vampire novels in high school, anyway? Well, I suppose to capture the YA readers, because high school is typically their reality. But isn't a 107 year old vampire stalking a nubile young high school virgin technically a pedophile? Food for thought, that.

And back to the subject at hand - Vampire Diaries. Damon. Yeah.

I'm YouTubing this Damon guy, and thinking, "Damn, high school setting or not, I just might have to catch up with the television version of Vampire Diaries, because this Damon is hot hot HOT. But please note: NONE of these people actually look or act like teenagers - because 25 is the new 16, didn't you know?




Check out this vid: Damon and Elena kiss The subtitles are in Italian, but the scene is in English. (Spoiler alert: apparently it wasn't *really* Elena but a doppleganger).


More Damon/Elena vid clip links: (links because embedding was disabled on these - sorry!)


Talking about the kiss


Arguing  


So tell me more about Damon! And feel free to nominate a vamp for Bloody Monday next week. 


(And Moonduster who commented on Feb 14, contact me because your nomination wins a free book).

A Year of Sundays ch 9 pt 1

Chapter 9 – Sunday June 26
This Sunday was as much about Friday as the actual Sunday. Maybe more.
My mother's last heart to heart with Silas had been painful to hear. I deserved to be uncomfortable about it, I know, for being the one who chose to eavesdrop, but still. I remembered laughing with Silas, and how easy it was to love him when we were kids. And how confusing it was later to be rebuffed, shut out of his room, and told to go away.
His music was too loud, his eyes too glassy, and his voice too angry, although it was probably when he was fifteen or so that he became completely unapproachable.
I know we girls tried – we loved our big brother, but we grew wary of him, never sure if our childish advances would earn a smile or a scathing word.
For the most part, Silas seemed to pretend we didn't exist. Silly little sisters, who couldn't possibly understand the effort a boy must put into growing to be a man.
He started college at eighteen, and the distance grew, even though on Sundays he tried to play nice. Well, the Sundays that he wasn't holed up with Dad in dad's office, that is. When Dad died, Silas joined the rest of us on Sundays, but he never had much to say.
When he did talk, he was smart-assed, sarcastic, and condescending, almost like we were bugs that he watched through a microscope. Or a television sitcom that he watched about a family he felt superior to.
But.
There's always a "but," or there wouldn't be a story.
These past few months he has been a little bit different. Quicker to smile, prone to rolling his eyes at some lame attempt at a joke, and he actually teased and wrestled with Annabelle once until she screamed, "Uncle, please!" giggling all the while. 
During Mom's illness, I'd often found him sitting on the bed next to her, rubbing her hand or brushing her hair. 
The tiny bits of engagement were a major improvement.  He seemed more relaxed and less prepared to lash out at the smallest perceived insult.
Maybe he even seemed... happy.
Mom wasn't the only one in the family to suspect Silas had met someone important.
And of course, now we all knew about Silas. And about Jeremy.
Something happened, though, when Jeremy moved in with Josie. Maybe his getting that close to Silas's people was a threat somehow, because Silas had cooled considerably toward him, which is a point I will explain in a little bit.
Anyway. On Friday I met Silas at his office to go over my exciting new book deal.
Silas and I pulled into the parking lot at the same time. I walked into the office about two steps behind Si.

Jeremy was sitting in the chair behind the desk.
Silas forgot I was even there. "What are you doing here?"
"I just came to ask if you want to go out tonight."
"Yeah, well. Don't. Come. To. My. Office."  Silas said it slowly, like he was talking to a person who's a little slow.
"Why the hell not?" Jeremy asked, scowling a little. It was a really cute scowl, kind of pouty and innocent.
"Because these people don't need to know anything about my life. This is a construction company you know, filled to the brim with boys who like girls. Jesus, Jeremy."
Jeremy flinched. "What? They don't know you're gay?" He grinned and mouthed an exaggerated, They don't know he's gay, to me, eyes widened in a parody of shock. Then he took off his long-sleeved denim shirt and pointed to his chest. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt with black lettering. It said, "Shh. Nobody knows I'm gay."
I shrugged and tried not to laugh. Jeremy must not realize that no one outside of the Twin Cities knew Silas was gay. No one but us and him.
Silas was glaring at Jeremy, "Put your shirt back on, you goofy little twink. I don't advertise my personal life here. It's none of their business."
"Come on, Silas," Jeremy said. "It's not 1998 anymore. What do you think would happen?"

"I could lose clients."
"I doubt it," the kid said. "Minnesota's pretty liberal."
"Duluth isn't." I said, pushing past Silas into the office and settling on a chair by the window. I suppose I could have been polite and circumspect and left them to have their argument in privacy, but hell with that.  Silas pulled the door shut and stalked toward the desk.
"God, you work with these people every day," Jeremy said, looking up at him. "And they don't even know who you are. How can you stand it?"
"I said it's none of their business," Silas said through clenched teeth.
Jeremy was shaking his head and laughing. There was a knock at the door.
Silas pointed a finger at Jeremy and gestured for him to spin the high-backed chair around. Jeremy complied. 
Another soft knock, and Silas answered, "Enter."  I almost giggled. 
It was his secretary. "Hey, Si," she said in greeting. "Alpha Crew finished framing in the house on Schultz Road."
"Yeah, thanks Susan, I was just there. You've met my sister, Jessie, right?"  he asked, gesturing to me.
"I have," she said. "Nice to see you again."  And to Silas, "I thought you were visiting Lismore Road this afternoon?"
"I was. But I stopped by Schulz on my way back. They're fast."
Susan agreed, Alpha Crew was very fast. "So anyway, some of us are stopping for drinks later to celebrate. You want to join us?"
"Not tonight, thanks." Silas said.
Jeremy spun around in the chair so Susan could see him. "You should go," he said, serious eyes on Silas. "Get to know your employees better. I'd go with you." At least he'd covered up the t-shirt again.
Susan didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, hi," she said. "I didn't see you. Of course any friend of Silas would be welcome. I'm Susan, Si's secretary."
"Susan," Silas said, in the kind of soft, patient tone some people get right before they do something irrational. "This is Jeremy."
"Nice to meet you," Jeremy said. "I bet it's not easy working for him."
God only knows what Susan was thinking. I felt a little sorry for her, because I'd worked for Silas, and it hadn't been pretty. But Susan never lost her footing. "It's all right," she said with a laugh. "He's the best in the industry this far north. And he pays the best, too, so we deal."
"Oh, I'm sure he is the best," Jeremy said, his face lit up with a grin. "Where will these drinks be consumed?"
"Grandma's, at 5:30."
"I'll do my best to get him there. With bells on."
Silas was looking positively aggravated. He said, "I'll have to check my calendar."
Susan laughed right out loud. "I'm your secretary, your calendar is clear tonight."
"We'll see," Silas said. "I'll consider it, if Jessie comes along to protect me."
And that was how we ended up at Grandma's Saloon by quarter after six, because, as I discovered, it's very difficult to dissuade Jeremy when he sets his mind on something.




Five and a half hours later, I was heading past tipsy and straight toward oblivion. The Alpha Crew had been great fun, but they headed off to livelier bars, or home to bed, depending on their family situations. When I focused my bleary eyes on Susan, I was amazed that she still seemed sober. We were sitting on stools around a high table, and I was clinging to the edge to keep myself from sliding to the floor. We'd all been quiet for a few minutes. I don't know about the rest of them, but I was assessing my ability to get off the bar stool, walk to the restroom, and do what needed doing. I decided maybe I'd try it later. I traced my fingertip along the table top, feeling the ridges in the old nicked up then polished wood.
"I'm curious about something, Silas," Susan said, with a sly smile. "You haven't been lighting out of the office at two pm on Fridays to burn up I-35."
"Ah, well, the situation in Minneapolis seems to have resolved itself.""I hope everything's okay."
"It was me, "Jeremy said. "My dad's not around, so Silas has been my... mentor."
"Oh?" Susan asked. "What happened to your dad?"
"I'm getting another round," Silas said with a scowl, and headed for the bar.
Jeremy watched him go with soft, dreamy eyes. Or at least that's what I saw. He gave Susan a wry smile. "Nothing happened to my dad. When I told him that I'm gay, he said if I didn't come around and embarrass him, he'd continue to pay for my education."
"That's terrible!"
Silas got fast service and returned to the table. He always gets fast service.  He set a drink in front of each of us, then a drink and a shot in front of himself. He downed the shot in one quick swallow.
Jeremy shrugged away Susan's sympathy. "It hasn't been too bad. At least I have Silas.""So you're like his little brother."
Silas made a snorting sound. "More like my boy-toy," he said, eyes glittering.