B.C. Sirrom's Blog: Accidental Author
January 2, 2013
2013 Books to look forward to
2013 Books To Look Forward To.
http://bcsirrom.wordpress.com/2013/01...
Free Google Calendar of 2013 Book Releases for my favorite paranormal romance authors:
Charlaine Harris
J. R. Ward
Patricia Briggs
Lynn Viehl
Jeaniene Frost
Alexandra Ivy
Sherrilyn Kenyon
http://bcsirrom.wordpress.com/2013/01...
Free Google Calendar of 2013 Book Releases for my favorite paranormal romance authors:
Charlaine Harris
J. R. Ward
Patricia Briggs
Lynn Viehl
Jeaniene Frost
Alexandra Ivy
Sherrilyn Kenyon
February 8, 2012
Streams and Threads
This is kind of a test. I am blogging here, but I've heard good things about WordPress. I feel like a spider getting caught in her own web. I post and cross reference then link. It feels like digital clutter. I suppose the media calls it 'having a presence on the web' or 'buzz'.
With some hesitation...I press 'publish'.
With some hesitation...I press 'publish'.
February 3, 2012
Body Farm Field Trip
In my day job, I am an architectural designer. My typical day is spent behind a computer screen...then there are days like today.
The new William Bass Anthropology building needs a slight renovation. I won't go in to the details as they are the private business of the Anthropology department. However, I will briefly describe my experience in the learning lab. (If you are not familiar with Dr. Bass, I recommend his book "Death's Acre".)
Firstly, I am given booties made of the fabric/paper used in hospitals. I am not sure if they are to protect the lab from me or me from the lab.
Since it is a new facility most of the 'residents' haven't been moved in. I am both glad and slightly disappointed. I have built up the trip in my mind. I expect to see bodies stashed under tables, stuffed in closets and hanging from the ceiling. In reality there are racks and racks of bone fragments. They are not 'bone' white as you might predict from the movies. They are brown. Nonthreatening in their earth-tone softness. I scan the trays and wonder how many will make one person. Oddly, the sight that holds me longest isn't the human remains. It is the half set of oral dentures...
I finish my meeting, then go to lunch.
The new William Bass Anthropology building needs a slight renovation. I won't go in to the details as they are the private business of the Anthropology department. However, I will briefly describe my experience in the learning lab. (If you are not familiar with Dr. Bass, I recommend his book "Death's Acre".)
Firstly, I am given booties made of the fabric/paper used in hospitals. I am not sure if they are to protect the lab from me or me from the lab.
Since it is a new facility most of the 'residents' haven't been moved in. I am both glad and slightly disappointed. I have built up the trip in my mind. I expect to see bodies stashed under tables, stuffed in closets and hanging from the ceiling. In reality there are racks and racks of bone fragments. They are not 'bone' white as you might predict from the movies. They are brown. Nonthreatening in their earth-tone softness. I scan the trays and wonder how many will make one person. Oddly, the sight that holds me longest isn't the human remains. It is the half set of oral dentures...
I finish my meeting, then go to lunch.
February 2, 2012
Bill Murray Day
Good morning on Groundhog Day! It is rainy and grey here in Tennessee but a pleasant 56 degrees.
I started a story that begins on Groundhog Day. For now it is call 'Jonah'. I posted it under my writing. It is still work-in-process, but please check it out. Here is an excerpt:
__________________________________
“Have a seat, or I might think you are rude.” She teased. Not in a hurry to go back out in the freezing night, he sat a careful distance away. He knew what he looked like. He was very tall, too skinny, and some thought menacing. His beard was uneven and tangled. His clothes were dirty underneath a green army jacket.
“I am Grace.” She held out her hand. He gave it one quick shake and stared down at the table. “No name, hun?” She was teasing again.
“My name doesn’t matter.” He needed to put distance between him and her kindness. Kindness was a slow, sweet poison in his world. “I am homeless, lady. You can’t save me. I don’t NEED to be saved.”
She didn’t react with shock or anger. “You look like a ‘John’ or maybe a ‘James’. Something old testament.”
He groaned, “Jonah, my name is Jonah.”
“Jonah.” She said with unexpected delight. “Perfect.”
He sighed and ate the muffin. He had met her type before. She’d lose interest eventually and quit trying to rescue the poor homeless man. He resolved to face the typical questions do-gooders ask. Questions like, “How long have you been on the streets? Do you have any family? Do have drug or alcohol problem?” But again she surprised him.
“Do you think the ground hog will see his shadow tomorrow?”
He swallowed his coffee too quickly and coughed, “I don’t know.”
“I hope he does?”
“Which is that? Short winter?”
“No, its supposed to mean six more weeks of winter, but the ground hog is only forty percent accurate.” She looked so serious, he had to hold back a grin. Then she exclaimed in discovery. “Maybe, we have it reversed. Did anyone ever ask the groundhog? Maybe if he sees his shadow it really means an early spring. Then the ground hog will be right sixty percent of the time.”
“I’m sure the ground hog would appreciate that.”
________________________________
I started a story that begins on Groundhog Day. For now it is call 'Jonah'. I posted it under my writing. It is still work-in-process, but please check it out. Here is an excerpt:
__________________________________
“Have a seat, or I might think you are rude.” She teased. Not in a hurry to go back out in the freezing night, he sat a careful distance away. He knew what he looked like. He was very tall, too skinny, and some thought menacing. His beard was uneven and tangled. His clothes were dirty underneath a green army jacket.
“I am Grace.” She held out her hand. He gave it one quick shake and stared down at the table. “No name, hun?” She was teasing again.
“My name doesn’t matter.” He needed to put distance between him and her kindness. Kindness was a slow, sweet poison in his world. “I am homeless, lady. You can’t save me. I don’t NEED to be saved.”
She didn’t react with shock or anger. “You look like a ‘John’ or maybe a ‘James’. Something old testament.”
He groaned, “Jonah, my name is Jonah.”
“Jonah.” She said with unexpected delight. “Perfect.”
He sighed and ate the muffin. He had met her type before. She’d lose interest eventually and quit trying to rescue the poor homeless man. He resolved to face the typical questions do-gooders ask. Questions like, “How long have you been on the streets? Do you have any family? Do have drug or alcohol problem?” But again she surprised him.
“Do you think the ground hog will see his shadow tomorrow?”
He swallowed his coffee too quickly and coughed, “I don’t know.”
“I hope he does?”
“Which is that? Short winter?”
“No, its supposed to mean six more weeks of winter, but the ground hog is only forty percent accurate.” She looked so serious, he had to hold back a grin. Then she exclaimed in discovery. “Maybe, we have it reversed. Did anyone ever ask the groundhog? Maybe if he sees his shadow it really means an early spring. Then the ground hog will be right sixty percent of the time.”
“I’m sure the ground hog would appreciate that.”
________________________________
January 31, 2012
A Raven Like a Wrinting Desk
Things never begin as you expect. I went to school to be a designer. I began writing as a way to relax. Grad school kept my mind busy, but I needed a way to unwind. So I wrote down the little stories I came up with in my overtaxed mind. Once I had a few chapters written, I posted them on 'Wattpad', a website of free reads and lots of fanfiction. However, soon I outgrew that site. Most of my 'fans' were teenagers and I was uncomfortable with them reading my stories.
I submitted my first completed story on a whim. I doubted it would ever be published, but it seemed a waste to let a finished novel sit unread.
With the debut of my first novel next month, I have been bouncing around the internet trying to promote it. I have followed every bit of advice from my publisher and fellow writers. I have set up so many profiles, I'm sure exactly who I am any more. It is as overwhelming as it is exciting. The thing I am most nervous about are the Reviewers. Yes, my family liked my story. Yes, I have a publisher so there is at least one unbiased opinion, but what will the Reviewers say?
Do I want commercial success? Sure. I am poor recent graduate. I want any way (within reason) to pay my bills. But I really, really want people to LIKE my book and not in the Facebook instant gratification way. I want the person reading my book to enjoy the experience, to remember the characters, and feel like reading my book is time well spent.
There is no unclicking the SUBMIT button, so now I wait.
I submitted my first completed story on a whim. I doubted it would ever be published, but it seemed a waste to let a finished novel sit unread.
With the debut of my first novel next month, I have been bouncing around the internet trying to promote it. I have followed every bit of advice from my publisher and fellow writers. I have set up so many profiles, I'm sure exactly who I am any more. It is as overwhelming as it is exciting. The thing I am most nervous about are the Reviewers. Yes, my family liked my story. Yes, I have a publisher so there is at least one unbiased opinion, but what will the Reviewers say?
Do I want commercial success? Sure. I am poor recent graduate. I want any way (within reason) to pay my bills. But I really, really want people to LIKE my book and not in the Facebook instant gratification way. I want the person reading my book to enjoy the experience, to remember the characters, and feel like reading my book is time well spent.
There is no unclicking the SUBMIT button, so now I wait.
Accidental Author
I haven't discovered the true nature of a blog, yet.
Am I supposed to tell you what I am think? Why would you care? I could post opinions, funny stories, or cool places I have gone on the internet. I s ...more
Am I supposed to tell you what I am think? Why would you care? I could post opinions, funny stories, or cool places I have gone on the internet. I s ...more
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