Liv Rancourt's Blog, page 39

Kirkland Cemetary

As my Facebook status says, I had a choice today. My son had a football game and was required to be there an hour early. That meant I had an hour to kill. My choice was to spend the time watching the boys warm up, or walk over to the graveyard across the street.

Yeah, it didn’t take long to make that decision.

 I  took some pictures while I was there. Now, I’m not a great photographer, and my cell phone camera is pretty basic, but I was pleased with how these came out.

We were northeast of Seattle in Kirkland, WA, a town that was founded in the 1880s The oldest markers I saw were from 1900 – 1905, although there may have been older ones that I didn’t get to.

 You can see how dry things are. It’s been over 50 days since we had any rain.  The Slug People of Seattle are a little dismayed by this. Politely. Assuming we can all agree on things.

These last two photos are from a line-up of tchotckes that were along the back fence. There were fake flowers, angels, fairies, and other assorted things that must have been left on the graves and moved by the groundskeepers to mow, or maybe when they decided they were too shabby to leave. 

Our Lady of the Ivy

Despite being surrounded on all four sides by busy roads, it felt like someone turned the volume down as soon as I walked through the gates. So peaceful. Kinda gives me hope for the future.

Peace,

Liv

Personal Jesus…

I can hear you from here: Oh Lordie, she’s gettin’ religious again.

Not exactly.

See, when I first moved back to Seattle from Honolulu in 1987, I lived in a real funky apartment above the Paramount Theater . The theater’s in the middle of downtown Seattle, and at the time it didn’t have a call-up system for the apartment dwellers, so when people came to visit me, they had to throw stones at my 3rd floor window to get my attention.

Like I said, funky.

Imagine it without the parking lot and chain-link fence. Hey, it’s public domain…you get the idea, anyway.

 

When I first moved in, the apartment manager was painting the unit next door with the stereo blaring, and after about 20 minutes, I noticed something about the music he was listening to. It was a whole cassette tape of different versions of the same song. The guy apparently had a Phil Spector obsession, and we spent an hour or so that afternoon listening to many many many interpretations of River Deep, Mountain High.

Yep, that’s what I thought, too.

So fast-forward 25 or so years, to this morning, in fact. I was driving the daughter to school, and the radio DJ said the next song they were going to play had been covered by Marilyn Manson & Johnny Cash.

Really? What song would possibly work for that kind of treatment?

It’s Personal Jesus by the Depeche Mode. And, for your listening pleasure,I’ve got links to all three versions. Take a listen to each, and then in the comments, let me know which one you think works best.

Here’s the original:

 

Here’s Marilyn…

 

And hhheeerree’s Johnny…(couldn’t resist)…

Peace & giggles,

Liv

 

And the w*nner is….

I don’t know about you guys, but I had a lot of fun with the Romancing the Hop blog hop over the weekend. Which was a good thing, because I had the “opportunity” to spend most of the weekend at my day job. So no barbeque, beach  trip, Bumbershoot, birthday parties or other shenanigans for me. Instead, I kept an eye on the blog hop, and was thrilled with all the new visitors that stopped by.  The big winners were announced on Carrie Ann’s blog (check out the list HERE), but there were some winners here at livrancourt.com, too.  Here’s a list – I’ve emailed the winners directly, so if you see your name on the list but haven’t heard from me, let me know in the comments.

Copy of Heat Wave: JeanMP

Copy of Something Borrowed, Something Blue:  Cora Ramos

$5 Amazon gift card: Yazmin

$5 Amazon gift card: SherriS

So there you have it! I hope you all had a great Labor Day weekend, and for those visitors who stopped by the blog for the first time, y’all come back now, ya hear?!

Peace,

Liv

 

 

Hot Pursuit…with…Jillian Chantal

Today I get to congratulate a friend and fellow writer Jillian Chantal! Yay! It’s release day the-day-before-release day for Hot Pursuit, in which she does the one thing she promised not to do:

She wrote about a lawyer.

But you know what? It looks like she had an awful lot of fun doing it. Keep going for some more info about the book – and make sure to check out the excerpt at the end!

Peace,

Liv

Many thanks to Liv for letting me drop by today to talk a bit about my new release with Ellora’s Cave in the Blush line.  The story is called Hot Pursuit and it truly is a chase across the globe.

 

I’m a lawyer in the day job and I swore I’d never write a story with a lawyer as the protagonist since we attorneys as a whole are pretty darned boring.

 

Well, so much for never. My friend, Rita V. suggested that I start a story with an all female law firm where the associates keep falling in love with the clients and leave. Good googly moogly, her idea set me off on a crazy journey that started out in New York City with a lawyer named Evangeline Fleet who I wasn’t quite sure was likeable and ended up running me all over the planet while I learned to love the woman. It really was super fun to write and is nothing at all like what I think Rita envisioned by the time I got my heroine off the last airplane.

 

I’m one of those people who like a lot going on in my reading material and therefore I love to put a lot of action in my own stories. I hope the readers will like this adventure that Evangeline embarks on with a sexy Interpol agent hot on her trail.

 

 

BLURB:

 

Blush sensuality level: This is a sensual romance (may have explicit love scenes, but not erotic in frequency or type).

 

Racing across the globe to help a client isn’t part of corporate lawyer Evangeline Fleet’s normal legal services, but this is no ordinary client. She’s the beloved daughter of an old family friend. In her efforts to save the girl, Evangeline gets in over her head when sexy Interpol agent Cecil Waugh enters the picture in hot pursuit of her client. He follows the lawyer on an international chase fromNew York CitytoRio de Janeirowhere they forget their differences for a moment and fall into bed together. Before the sheets can even cool Evangeline makes a daring escape, leaving behind her lover.

 

Relentless in his quest to find Evangeline’s client, Cecil continues the chase acrossEurope. But it soon becomes unclear who his main target is—Evangeline’s charge, or the spitfire of a woman herself. Only time will tell how hot this pursuit will become.

 

Book video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1m1Ek3-nhX4&feature=youtu.be

 

EXCERPT:

 

An Excerpt From: HOT PURSUIT

Copyright © JILLIAN CHANTAL, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

Barbara buzzed Evangeline’s office. Van was on the floor on her ab cruncher, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a sports bra. “Hang on, I’m across the room,” she yelled in the direction of the speaker. She rose, walked to her desk and picked up the headset. “Yeah. What? It’d better be a Federal judge or something. You know it’s my workout time.” She tapped her toe, impatient to get back to her exercise.

“Not a judge but an Interpol agent. On the phone. He insisted I interrupt you.”

“Barb, who do you work for? Me or that guy?”

“You.”

“Well, then. What’re you going to tell him?”

“That you can’t be interrupted?”

“See, that was easy, yeah?”

“Yeah, boss. Should I get his number?”

“Tell him I’ll call him back in thirty minutes. What’s his name?”

“Cecil Waugh.”

Van doubled over in laughter and held on to her stomach. “Oh God, what would a Cecil Waugh look like? A nerd in taped-up horn-rimmed glasses with his pants belted under his armpits and a pen protector in his shirt pocket?”

“You’re terrible.” Barbara snickered.

“And you love me for it.” Van laughed.

“Yeah, right. I’ll tell him you’ll call back.”

“Thanks.” Van hung up and finished her workout. She took a quick shower in her private bathroom. She dried her hair, curling under the ends of her pageboy cut and put on a red merino-wool pantsuit for the depositions she had scheduled for later in the morning. The suit was double breasted with three large buttons on an asymmetrical bodice. She slid on her red patent-leather stiletto pumps with the pointy toes, the ones she called her Wicked Witch of Manhattan shoes. She wanted to look especially tough since the lawyer on the other side was fromMiamiand had a reputation as a real asshole. She thought she might need to use the pointed toes on his butt. Kick some ass, as it were.

Van nodded at herself in the mirror. Yep, the red is the right choice. Makes me feel more powerful. And it doesn’t hurt that it looks good on me. She grinned over her vanity, pinned on a white topaz broach, flattened the collar of the suit jacket and walked to her desk, ready for the day’s challenges.

Before she could take her seat, her phone buzzed again and Barbara said, “That Waugh guy—”

Van yelled into the speaker, “What? The nerd with the pocket protector on the phone again? He sure is an impatient little nerd, isn’t he?”

“Er. Not exactly, boss—”

Van’s door burst open and banged backward on the jamb. A gorgeous man with dark hair hanging over his brow, dressed in khakis and a polo shirt that showed off his toned biceps, strode into her office. There was no sign of a pocket protector anywhere on the man. He said, “Cecil Waugh, Interpol.” He thrust his hand toward her as if to shake hers.

Ignoring his hand, furious that he’d come into her office uninvited, gorgeous or not, she said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Barging in here?”

He dropped his outstretched hand to his side. “You didn’t call me back like your secretary said you would. I have a witness on the lam and you know where she is. I’m not a patient man, so I came over here to get some answers. Nerd that I am.” His gaze raked over her body with a sneer and he added, “Your secretary said you were too busy to come to the phone when I rang up earlier. Was that a lie? To avoid my call so you could keep hiding your client? Is obstructing justice a hobby with you?”

“You rude son of a bitch. I’m not sure you have any authority in this country and you certainly have none here in my place of business. I have no obligation whatsoever to tell you anything. I definitely have no obligation to take or return your call. I suggest you leave before I call security.” She sat in her chair and reached toward the phone.

“Look, I’m sorry I barged in but there’s some urgency to the situation. I’m not trying to be rude but I need to speak to Senoia Griffin. Now.”

She glared at him. Held his stare for a full twenty seconds. Then, not breaking eye contact, she picked up the phone, pushed a button and said, “Leo, I need you in my office right now. I have an intruder.”

Cecil said, “All right, all right, damn, I’ll go. Call off your security dog. But this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’ll be back with a warrant. Soon.” He turned to walk out, stopped and looked back. He looked her up and down for the second time then turned toward the door.

She gasped at the audacity of the sneer he’d had on his face as his gaze raked over her. “Lots of luck with that warrant, buster. You’re in New Yorknow. I think you’ll find that people here have rights. Now get out of here, you jerk.”

He stalked out of her office, the door slammed behind him, so hard it rattled in the frame. Again.

She got up and walked out into the secretarial area. Barbara stood there looking at the suite door and Van said, “Not so much a nerd, huh?”

Barbara shook her head. “I know I’m wet. God, what a man.”

 

 

BUY LINK: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10324-hot-pursuit.aspx

 

Visit me on the web: www.Jillianchantal.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianChantal

Facebook:  http://www.facebook.com/#!/jillian.chantal

 

 

 

It’s HERE! Romancing The Hop!!!

In gearing up for the Romancing the Hop blog-hop, I did some reading about why the romance genre works so well. I think it’s popularity is due to two main reasons: a good romance allows for a little safe fantasy where the heroine always gets her man, and the stories follow a template that’s understood by almost everyone on a very deep level.

And in case you hadn’t noticed, the romance genre IS popular. Here are some numbers that I pulled from the Romance Writers of America website:

Romance fiction: $1.358 billion in estimated revenue for 2010. That compares with:

Religion/inspirational: $759 million
Mystery: $682 million
Science fiction/fantasy: $559 million
Classic literary fiction: $455 million

That’s a lot of books. The genre has proven to be recession-proof (Washington Post) and has been thrown into overdrive by the popularity of e-books (NY Times). Romance novels might not get much respect as literature – that’s another whole blog post –  but it’s hard to argue with the numbers.

People – well, mostly women, because 90% of romance readers are women – love romances.

Why?

I think there are a couple of things going on. To put it simply, the heroine gets her man, and that’s tremendously satisfying. The hero starts out with lots of rough edges. He’s a bad boy, and it’s the love of a good woman that tames him. And what woman hasn’t dreamed of doing that? Romance novels give the reader a chance to live out her fantasies.

Without ever cheating on her (real-life) partner.

The caricature of the romance heroine is the helpless beauty waiting around to be rescued by the gallant hero. Not so much, really, especially these days. These heroines have always been an independent breed – they’ve had to be, to appeal to the Bad Boys they were attracted to.

We plunk these new role models into an established template, the kind of thing that goes as  far back as fairy tales like Cinderella. Now there’s a proto-romance for you.  The hero and the heroine meet and are instantly attracted to each other, obstacles arise and are overcome, and they live happily ever after.

It doesn’t matter that we know how it’s going to end. In fact, that certainty is part of the appeal. What’s important is that we’re living out a fantasy in a way that feels right. And having a whole lot of fun doing it.

Thanks for checking out my blog. The list of all Romancing the Hop bloggers is HERE. The more blogs you visit, the more chances you’ll have to win. Don’t forget to comment when you visit and you’ll have the chance to win one of the three grand prizes:

#1 A Kindle Fire or Nook

#2 A $130 Amazon gift card

#3 A HUGE swag basket

And I’ll be giving away a copy of Heat Wave, a copy of Something Borrowed, Something Blue, and two $5 Amazon gift cards too! So visit and comment and win!!!  You’ve seen my reasons for why romance is popular, now why does it work for you?

And to celebrate the spirit of the hop, here’s another little snippet from my new short story, Honolulu City Lights. It’s in the anthology “Heat Wave”, available at Still Moments Publishing, Amazon, Smashwords.

Katie’s gone out dancing with her roommate Meli, with some pretty unexpected results…

The night had reached a messy point. From what I could see, Meli and Dave were slow dancing to MC Hammer, which was pretty lame. I couldn’t free myself from a guy who was so self-absorbed I doubted he’d remember my name. And there was a good chance Mr. Trouble was breathing the same air I was. It was almost enough to make me wish I could have twenty or thirty pounds back just so they’d all leave me alone.

Right about the time I was about ready to melt from a combination of the humidity and self-pity, when Meli and Dave came back to the table. “Where’s the bathroom in this place?” I asked as soon as Meli was close enough to hear me.

“Up by the dance floor. You want me to come with you?”

“That’d be good.”

Meli gave Dave a kiss, which made Dan look up at me expectantly. My stomach gave a don’t-you-dare warning. I spun on my heel and nearly swan-dived onto the table next to ours. Meli grabbed the back of my dress and pulled me upright. “Hey, lo-lo, watch out.”

I tried to laugh it off. Composing myself as best I could, I followed Meli to the restroom.

Meli headed past the bar, in the general direction of the dance floor. I started to hang back when I realized we’d be walking right past the DJ booth. It was glassed-in down to about waist level, with a door on the side closest to the bar. Several women had pulled barstools on either side of the door and were talking to the DJ through the windows. Our present route would take us right past them.

I quickly analyzed the situation and decided the possibility of seeing Jack was better than the reality of sitting with Dan. Keeping my head down, I cut through the crowd as quickly as I could. I’d almost made it past the door to the DJ booth, when it popped open and a hand grabbed my shoulder.

“Hey Shave Ice.” It was Jack. I almost fell off my heels. He caught me so I didn’t end up on my butt. “Guess who’s come out to play?”

“What did you just call me?” In my heels I was close to his eye level, which meant he wasn’t quite six-feet tall. His arm stayed wrapped around my waist, though for some reason it didn’t feel like a bad thing.

Jack grinned, his dimples carving up his cheeks and his light blue eyes glowing. “Shave Ice, ‘cause you’re sweet, but sooo cold.” He faked a shiver as he spoke.

“Shut up.” I took a swat at his arm, which just made him pull me closer. His shaggy hair fell into his face, and I automatically reached up and brushed it back. What was I thinking? It was all I could do not to melt against him, just so I’d know if his chest was as hard as it looked. I settled for resting my hands on his biceps.

“Well, you’re in a good mood tonight. I’m not sure I knew you could smile.” He was solid under my hands, and I could imagine the eyes of all the women around us burning holes in my back.

I had to laugh at myself, embarrassed to have earned the nickname “Shave Ice.”

His fingers slid across my ribs as he took a step back. “Don’t move. I gotta go catch the next song.”

There was no way I was going to stand around and let his fan club jump me, so as soon as he left, I made a run for the bathroom.

 

 

 

Of Short Stories and Housekeeping…

Today’s a good day. The sun is shining…okay, whenever there’s a big enough break in the clouds, it’s shining, but still… And SMP has released Heat Wave, a short story anthology that includes Honolulu City Lights, which is basically a love note to one of my favorite places on earth. The story asks this timeless question:

Blue eyes + dimples + a hot surfer’s body = TROUBLE.

Doesn’t it?

Here’s a little sample…

I stepped off the elevator carrying a white Styrofoam cup of frozen yogurt and smiled at my neighbor Darla out in the hall.

“Hey lady,” Darla said in her smoker’s rasp.

“Hey Darla.” I juggled my backpack and fished out my keys. Our building was surrounded by residential neighborhoods. From our fifteenth floor unit, we gazed over the tops of palm trees and red-roofed houses to the aqua ribbon of ocean at the edge of the world. Or that’s how it felt.

“You need a nice young man to take you to dinner.”

“Nope.” I glanced over my shoulder at her and laughed. “You do.”

Darla laughed too, a sound as wrinkled and leathery as her skin. She owned an extensive collection of old cotton bathing suits in graphic block prints and neon colored flowers. Straight from the sixties, they had built-in skirts, bullet boobs, and wide shoulder straps. She seldom wore anything else. Today’s choice had sunshine yellow hibiscus blossoms on a green background.

“Oh, I’ve done my time.” Darla punctuated her thought with a loose cough. “Miss Bitty and Stinker keep me busy enough.”

Miss Bitty and Stinker were cats. In my mind, they were the finishing touches on a perfect nightmare. In my ugliest fantasies, I ended up like Darla, living alone, dressing crazy, and talking to my cats all day. I wouldn’t be Meli’s roommate forever. Then what? It’s not like I had much hope of getting married. I’d had no practice with men. Seventy pounds ago it wasn’t an issue. Now, at size eight and with Meli coaching from the sidelines, it might be.

Our apartment was fairly standard. There was a short entry hall with a galley kitchen on the right and two bedrooms on the left. The kitchen was separated from the living room area by a waist-high counter. Two bar stools on the living room side to allow visitors to sit and watch the cook, if we ever cooked. We were more into Lean Cuisine frozen dinners.

Across the living room was a sliding glass door leading to the lanai. Our carpet was beige, the walls were beige, and our furniture was made from a pale polished wood. If it weren’t for the forest green couch and bright coral flowered pillows, the place would have resembled a bowl of oatmeal.

I plopped onto the couch and dug my spoon into the frozen yogurt, quickly shuffling exchanges in my head. Weight Watchers would prefer I wrote everything down and I would…later. Hula Girl, our dancing doll, was in her usual spot standing next to the TV. Flipping a switch made her hips swing and her grass skirt swish while the music box played The Hukilau Song. The rest of the time she listened to my problems and gave me advice about diet and exercise and stuff. Okay, so I talked to a plastic doll. Everyone’s got their little eccentricities.

Today she was quiet until I remembered Jack, carving the curl of a wave, his shoulders and chest broad and sun-kissed over a pair of those ubiquitous baggie shorts all surfers wore.

She smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

“What? I barely know him.”

Hula Girl just grinned at me.

Thank goodness Meli wasn’t home from work yet. If she knew I talked to a doll, I’d never hear the end of it.

Available from Still Moments Publishing, Amazon, and Smashwords.

 

And if you’re still with me, I just wanted to put in a plug for next weekend’s blog hop. Romancing the Hop has over 200 romance-themed writers participating, with the opportunity to win an amazing array of prizes, up to and including a Kindle Fire or Nook tablet,  a $130 Amazon gift card, and a large swag gift pack (see photo below). I’ll be tossing in a copy of Heat Wave and a copy of Something Borrowed, Something Blue, as well as a couple $5 Amazon gifties. So check back this weekend for some romantic blogging fun.

Peace,

Liv

Lots of Blog Hop Prizes!

 

Of Short Stories & Housekeeping…

Today’s a good day. The sun is shining…okay, whenever there’s a big enough break in the clouds, it’s shining, but still… And SMP has released Heat Wave, a short story anthology that includes Honolulu City Lights, which is basically a love note to one of my favorite places on earth. The story asks this timeless question:

Blue eyes + dimples + a hot surfer’s body = TROUBLE.

Doesn’t it?

Here’s a little sample…

I stepped off the elevator carrying a white Styrofoam cup of frozen yogurt and smiled at my neighbor Darla out in the hall.

“Hey lady,” Darla said in her smoker’s rasp.

“Hey Darla.” I juggled my backpack and fished out my keys. Our building was surrounded by residential neighborhoods. From our fifteenth floor unit, we gazed over the tops of palm trees and red-roofed houses to the aqua ribbon of ocean at the edge of the world. Or that’s how it felt.

“You need a nice young man to take you to dinner.”

“Nope.” I glanced over my shoulder at her and laughed. “You do.”

Darla laughed too, a sound as wrinkled and leathery as her skin. She owned an extensive collection of old cotton bathing suits in graphic block prints and neon colored flowers. Straight from the sixties, they had built-in skirts, bullet boobs, and wide shoulder straps. She seldom wore anything else. Today’s choice had sunshine yellow hibiscus blossoms on a green background.

“Oh, I’ve done my time.” Darla punctuated her thought with a loose cough. “Miss Bitty and Stinker keep me busy enough.”

Miss Bitty and Stinker were cats. In my mind, they were the finishing touches on a perfect nightmare. In my ugliest fantasies, I ended up like Darla, living alone, dressing crazy, and talking to my cats all day. I wouldn’t be Meli’s roommate forever. Then what? It’s not like I had much hope of getting married. I’d had no practice with men. Seventy pounds ago it wasn’t an issue. Now, at size eight and with Meli coaching from the sidelines, it might be.

Our apartment was fairly standard. There was a short entry hall with a galley kitchen on the right and two bedrooms on the left. The kitchen was separated from the living room area by a waist-high counter. Two bar stools on the living room side to allow visitors to sit and watch the cook, if we ever cooked. We were more into Lean Cuisine frozen dinners.

Across the living room was a sliding glass door leading to the lanai. Our carpet was beige, the walls were beige, and our furniture was made from a pale polished wood. If it weren’t for the forest green couch and bright coral flowered pillows, the place would have resembled a bowl of oatmeal.

I plopped onto the couch and dug my spoon into the frozen yogurt, quickly shuffling exchanges in my head. Weight Watchers would prefer I wrote everything down and I would…later. Hula Girl, our dancing doll, was in her usual spot standing next to the TV. Flipping a switch made her hips swing and her grass skirt swish while the music box played The Hukilau Song. The rest of the time she listened to my problems and gave me advice about diet and exercise and stuff. Okay, so I talked to a plastic doll. Everyone’s got their little eccentricities.

Today she was quiet until I remembered Jack, carving the curl of a wave, his shoulders and chest broad and sun-kissed over a pair of those ubiquitous baggie shorts all surfers wore.

She smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

“What? I barely know him.”

Hula Girl just grinned at me.

Thank goodness Meli wasn’t home from work yet. If she knew I talked to a doll, I’d never hear the end of it.

Available from Still Moments Publishing, Amazon, and Smashwords.

 

And if you’re still with me, I just wanted to put in a plug for next weekend’s blog hop. Romancing the Hop has over 200 romance-themed writers participating, with the opportunity to win an amazing array of prizes, up to and including a Kindle Fire or Nook tablet,  a $130 Amazon gift card, and a large swag gift pack (see photo below). I’ll be tossing in a copy of Heat Wave and a copy of Something Borrowed, Something Blue, as well as a couple $5 Amazon gifties. So check back this weekend for some romantic blogging fun.

Peace,

Liv

 

 

The Lazy Gardner’s Garden in Fall

Subtitle: The Lazy Blogger’s Nearly-Text-Free Post

Did I mention I love my garden? Okay, so you probably have to pretend you’re Indiana Jones, whacking back the tall grasses with your machete to get up and down my front walkway, but that makes it fun. If you dig around a bit, you find all kinds of little moments. You just have to know where to look.

I ran around with my phone-camera today and snapped pics of some of those moments. I hope you enjoy them!

The view from my back door: phlox, vintage roses, and Himalayan honeysuckle.

Close-up of the vintage rose – whose name I’ve forgotten – and the Himalayan honeysuckle, taken on my back porch. The whole yard smells like phlox & roses.

The first aster Ruby Morn to bloom, along with some Baby Blanket roses.

Coral phygelius and Japanese anemone.

The hydrangea that lives at the bottom of the front stairs. The blossoms turn a deeper red over time.

One Lovely Blog

The other day I was so pleased to see that WANABlogger Ellen Gregory nominated me for the One Lovely Blog award. She did it in the context of a post listing her seven all-time favorite fantasy reads, which has totally added to my TBR pile.  The game is, you link to the person who nominated you, list seven things about yourself, then nominate other bloggers for the award.

In the spirit of Ellen’s post, I thought  it would be fun to list my seven all-time favorite vampire novels. For a while I kept an eye on Charlaine Harris’s website, where one of her discussion threads had to do with really good books about vampires, and I regularly read her suggestions. Because of that, my Top 7 list pulls from novels written over the last thirty years. I know you’re dying to see what I’ve come up with…

Disclaimer…I tried to stick with books/series where the vampire was either the main character or one of them. Sadly, that didn’t include many of my favorite vampires, like Thomas (Harry Dresden’s half brother, who I totally want to meet some day), Steven (Mercy Thompson’s friend and yes, I’d like to meet him too), and Lord Akeldama (Alexis Tarabotti’s friend, who’d be fun to have cocktails with). These characters are all well worth reading about…

#7 Wicked As They Come by Delilah Dawson. Steampunk and Criminy. Yum. This is a recent release with a unique take on the vampire myth.

#6 Dead Witch Walking by Kim Harrison. You can’t put together a list of vampire novels without including Ivy, and some might argue that this book should be higher up on my list.  It’s at #6 because Ivy doesn’t really come into her own till later in the series, and I don’t think Kisten’s in this one at all, or maybe he’s just a passing mention. The Hollows series is pretty much a must-read in the world of paranormal fiction, though. Just sayin’…

#5 Halfway To The Grave by Jeaniene Frost. I recently blogged about how much I loved this book HERE. It rocks, and Bones reminds me of Spike. Do you need another reason to read this one?

#4 Those Who Hunt The Night by Barbara Hambly. First and foremost, Barbara Hambly knows how to tell a story, whether it’s vampires or early 19th century New Orleans in her fabulous Benjamin January mysteries. Those Who Hunt The Night was first released in 1990, so it predates the “vampire as love machine” fad. Her vampire, Don Simon, is seductively creepy, with an emphasis on mysterious. There are no naughty bits, but even so it’s a solid contributor to the vampire genre. She wrote a sequel in the 90′s, and then just a couple years ago the 3rd book came out. When I looked on Amazon for the link for this post, I saw there’s a couple more in the series. Yay!

#3 The Vampire Lestat by Ann Rice. I don’t know if it was a mistake or not, but I read this book before I read Interview With A Vampire, and as a result have always thought Louise was a bit of a whiner. I also think this book shows how much Ms. Rice LOVES words, and playing with words, and spinning them into glittery threads and taking us into a world that’s way more fun that the one we’re stuck with. I didn’t enjoy Queen Of The Damned (well, it was okay, just lots of words telling a weaker story), but Lestat and Interview are pretty much essential reading if you claim to be into vampire fiction.

#2 Fledgling by Octavia Butler. This is a complicated book, with as much to say about race, bigotry, and what it means to be an outsider as it does about vampires. There are moments that make me uncomfortable in ways that few other works of fiction accomplish, and Ms. Butler’s writing is as strong as any other author I know. Reading her work always inspires me to be a better writer, and this book inspires me with the possibilities for what a vampire novel can be.

#1 Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris. I read this book in one sitting, and then said to myself, “I wanna DO that.” This book about Sookie, the telepathic waitress to falls in love with Vampire Bill, is imho, the pinnacle of the current vampire fiction fad. It’s the book that inspired Season 1 of the HBO series True Blood, which has taken vampires into the stratosphere. The book has a strong plot, clever characters, and a love story to die for. Heh. If you haven’t read it, you’re really missing out.

#1 Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series by Laurell K. Hamilton. Um, oops. Yeah, I got two #1′s. So sue me. The Anita Blake series is 21 books long, and I’ve read every one. The stories change dramatically over the course of the books (particularly the adult content), but they reflect the development of Anita’s character, and at the end of the day, she’s still going to shoot first and apologize never if someone she loves is in trouble. Anita is arguably the first true urban fantasy heroine, and some of the elements first presented by Ms. Hamilton have become pretty standard in the genre (special paranormal task force, kick axx main character, human hate groups). And as much as I like Jean-Claude, it’s her minor vampire characters that I really like. Wicked and Truth, anybody?

So there you have a list of 7 – okay, 8 – really good vampire novels. If you think I missed something important, leave me a comment – and you’ll get extra points if I haven’t already read it. Heck, extra points AND a copy of my own vampire novella, A Vampire’s Deadly Delight. So try to stump me, and good luck!

Peace, Liv

Oh, and here are seven bloggers who I’m tagging for the next round of the One Lovely Blog award: Jami Gray, Jillian Chantal, W. Lynn Chantale, Emmie Mears, Kristin McFarland, Shannon O’Brien, and Christine Hughes. Give them some love by checking out there blogs, okay?

 

Who was Marilyn Monroe?

Recently I connected with a lovely and enthusiastic writer, Athena Brady. She’s done a cool post on Marilyn Monroe, and was willing to allow me to share it with all of you. Read on – there’s a lot more to Marilyn than I ever realized. Thanks, Athena, for sharing her story.

Peace,

Liv

A snapshot of Marilyn Monroe, a dumb blonde or an insightful, intelligent, spiritual, young victim?

I watched a TV programme on Channel 4 a short while ago, (10pm, 4 Aug 2012) entitled ‘Marilyn Monroe: The Last Sessions’. I found it to be bewitching and could not drag myself away from the TV screen. I have heard things over the years and often felt Marilyn was manipulated and misunderstood. However, this programme was a real eye opener for me for I think I glimpsed the real Marilyn, the one that has been hidden for so long. So, armed with my curiosity and admiration, I researched a little deeper and this is what I found. Here’s a link to my original post.

Marilyn’s mother Gladys was married three times. Gladys had Bernice and her brother Robert, with “Jap” Baker. Both were born in Los Angeles County, California. Jap kidnapped Bernice and her brother after Gladys divorced him. Bernice grew up in Kentucky, and married Paris Miracle on October 7, 1938 and their only child, Mona Rae, was born on July 18, 1939. Meanwhile, Gladys, after a short time in Kentucky, returned to Los Angeles where she married a second time and eventually gave birth to Marilyn Monroe on 1st June 1926. The child was known then as Norma Jeane Mortenson.

Due to her mother’s mental illness, financial difficulties and subsequent admission to the local State Hospital, Norma Jeane went to stay with foster parents Ida and Albert Bolender when she was a small girl. One day her mother Gladys visited, dragged Ida outside in her yard and locked her out of the house. She then bundled a kicking and screaming Norma Jeane into an army rucksack zipped it up and walked out of the house with her. Ida escaped and dragged a screaming Norma Jeane back into the house. In 1933, when Norma Jeane was 7 years old, Gladys brought a house and took Norma Jeane to live with her.

Just a few months later, she witnessed her mother being removed forcibly to the State Hospital. Norma Jeane was made a ward of the state and went to live with her mother’s best friend Grace Mc Kee. Grace loved the movies and Jean Harlow. She told Norma Jeane she would be a star one day. In 1935 Grace married Doc and she placed Norma Jeane in an orphanage. There were several couples interested in adopting her; but this could not happen as her mother would not sign the adoption papers. In 1937, at 11 years old, she moved back in with Grace and Doc but after Doc’s repeated attempts to sexually abuse her she was moved out soon after. Grace sent her to her Great Aunt Olive Brunings, whose son allegedly tried to sexually abuse her also.

In 1942, at age 16, Norma Jeane went back to live with Grace and Doc, and while attending high school met her first husband Jim Dougherty. Grace decided to move to Virginia and asked a local family to adopt Norma Jeane. Her mother Gladys would not agree, so Grace asked Jim’s mother to persuade him to marry her. After initial reluctance he agreed to prevent her returning to care.

 

 

Marilyn’s Career

In 1943 the Second World War broke out and Jim went to work in the Merchant Navy. Whilst working in a munitions factory, Norma Jeane (aged 17) was noticed by a photographer, who advised her to join a modelling agency. She did, and as they were looking for fair-haired models, she dyed her brown hair to blonde.

In 1946 (age 20) she was signed up with Twentieth Century Fox, and the rest is history. She won many awards as you can see below.

1951 Henrietta Award: The Best Young Box Office Personality
1952 Photoplay Award: Fastest Rising Star of 1952
1952 Photoplay Award: Special Award
1952 Look American Magazine Achievement Award: Most Promising Female Newcomer of 1952
1953 Golden Globe Henrietta Award: World Film Favorite Female.
1953 Sweetheart of the Month (Playboy)
1953 Photoplay Award: Most Popular Female Star
1954 Photoplay Award for Best Actress: for Gentlemen Prefer Blondes and How to Marry a Millionaire
1956 BAFTA Film Award nomination: Best Foreign Actress for The Seven Year Itch
1956 Golden Globe nomination: Best Motion Picture Actress in Comedy or Musical for Bus Stop
1958 BAFTA Film Award nomination: Best Foreign Actress for The Prince and the Showgirl
1958 David di Donatello Award (Italian): Best Foreign Actress for The Prince and the Showgirl
1959 Crystal Star Award (French): Best Foreign Actress for The Prince and the Showgirl
1960 Golden Globe, Best Motion Picture Actress in Comedy or Musical for Some Like It Hot
1962 Golden Globe, World Film Favorite: Female
Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame 6104 Hollywood Blvd.

1999 she was ranked as the sixth greatest female star of all time by the American Film Institute in their list AFI’s 100 Years…100 Stars

Norma Jeane had no idea she had a sister until she was 19 years old, when she received a letter from Gladys. They met for the first time in 1944. Bernice worked for many years at the University of Florida and she wrote a book about Norma Jeane.

My Sister Marilyn, Miracle, Bernice Baker and Mona Rae Baker. Publisher: Algonquin Books, an imprint of Workman Publishing Co.. First edition (1994). Hardcover: 238 pages ISBN 1-56512-070-1

Marilyn married 3 times in all. Her second husband was Joe Di Maggio who, it is alleged in the TV programme, was a controlling, manipulative man who physically abused Marilyn. Her third husband was Arthur Miller, a playwright. During her lifetime, Marilyn had two miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy. Tony Curtis stated he was the father of one of her miscarried children. She was rumoured to have had affairs with Tony Curtis, Marlon Brando and both John and Robert Kennedy.

Marilyn spent a large part of her life in therapy. Her most talked-about therapist was Ralph S Greenson, who I have no doubt, crossed many professional boundaries. He often saw Marilyn in his own home, where she stayed on occasion and lived as an adopted family member. Thus, he created dependence upon him instead of independence. It is alleged that this relationship contributed to her death at age 36 years.

The official report claimed suicide but there are numerous conspiracy theories surrounding her death. Some say she was politically dangerous, due to her relationships with the Kennedy brothers and alleged relationships with known communists. They suggest that an American Government Agency had her killed.

She was found by her therapist Ralph Greenson, who reported her death. The tapes of her meetings with him released after her death appear to provide evidence of the dysfunctional and totally unprofessional relationship she had with Greenson. It could be suggested that he was obsessed with her and jealous of her relationships with other men. He installed a housekeeper in her home to watch her and report back to him. Marilyn saw him as the father she never had but how did he see her? Did his jealousy and possessiveness overtake him? Greenson died in 1979 and his papers are housed in a special collection in UCLA. The documents relating to Marilyn are sealed until 2039. I wonder why?

Marilyn was no doubt a troubled young woman. Who wouldn’t be with her history? Some of the comments she gave about the men in her life were both insightful and telling.

Marilyn on Joe Dougherty

‘My marriage didn’t make me sad but it didn’t make me happy either. My husband and I hardly spoke to each other. This wasn’t because we were angry but because we had nothing to say. I was dying of boredom.’

Marilyn on men in general

‘The problem is they want to go to bed with Marilyn Munroe but they wake up with Norma Jeane. Marilyn doesn’t exist but Norma Jeane is real’

 

Was Marilyn the stereotypical dumb blonde or someone who saw things that others didn’t? Did the things she saw make her sad and depressed? The thing with both beautiful and plain women is that most people just see the shell. They don’t see beyond the outside packaging. Unfortunately, this is a sad trait of our society. I suggest that Marilyn wanted to be seen as the person she was, Norma Jeane the woman. A person who could think for herself but who was always being put down. One of her co actors once said to her

‘You don’t need to try hard. Just smile and look pretty’

Some of the happiest photographs and footage, I have seen of Marilyn were from the time she spent in New York. She was anonymous there.  She could walk around and just be herself. She associated with writers and married one. She seemed happiest in an intellectual group. She felt at home with them.

Marilyn’s last years were plagued with reports of her unreliability and drug abuse. If you watch the programme, and I recommend you do, you can make up your own mind. It is evident that she was disappearing visually bit by bit by the photographs and footage available. Her smiles seem fake, her body thin and gaunt, and her general disappointment in the world can be seen in her eyes. Her last public appearance was on May 19th 1962 were she famously sang ‘Happy Birthday Mr President’. It was on that evening she gave her final press interview.

Patricia Newcomb, her friend and secretary, stated that she pleaded with reporters to repeat her words.

‘What I really want to say is that the world really needs a real feeling of kinship. Everybody, Stars, Labourers, Negros, Jews, Arabs, we are all brothers. Please don’t make me a joke. End the interview with what I believe.’

Marilyn was great friends with Ella Fitzgerald who stated after her death.

‘I owe Marilyn a real debt… it was because of her that I played the Mocambo, a very popular nightclub in the 1950s. Marilyn personally called the owner of the club and told him she wanted me booked immediately; and if he would do it she would take a table at the front every night, which she did.’

What do you think? Was she killed, or did she kill herself? What are your thoughts on Marilyn the woman?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marilyn_Monroe

http://shine.yahoo.com/healthy-living/marilyn-monroe-was-more-mentally-ill-than-we-knew-520110.html

You can find Athena Brady online on her blog, on Twitter, or on the WANATribe homepage.