Eeeek!

The season of petroleum based products is upon me. Any of you who have visited me here at this blog for the past several years knows that I have a really bad allergy to petroleum. If petroleum touches my lips I end up with swollen, cracked and bleeding lips.

But it's this time of year that people slather the stuff on. Hand lotions, lip balms, all kinds of crap has petroleum/petrolatum in it. I have to read the ingredients on everything. Burts Bees lipbalm doesn't have petroleum in it, and it leaves you with a minty, tingly feeling.

Also, St. Ives doesn't have petroleum in it. I actually buy the other women in the office this hand lotion so that when they touch my invoices I won't end up with petroleum on my hands.

Anyway, petroleum is nasty shit. The body can't break it down. It's really a toxin. Everyone should avoid putting it on their skin. It's bad, bad, bad, BAD for you!

Okay, mini-rant over.

Shadowlight

Oh my. I know I've said I'm not buy another book until my To Be Read pile goes down. But ooooooh I want this one!

Paperback Writer's , AKA Lynn Viehl's, new one is out! Shadowlight!

Yummy. Cover.

She rocks! I gotta have it.

Sons of Anarchy

For somebody who likes the spooky stuff, I'm not much for graphic violence. Holy hell, this show can get pretty graphic. I've seen two episodes so far. The first featured a really horrible rape scene and another where an unfortunate fella got shot in the face. He stayed alive for a while. Ugh. I can't take stuff like that.

This is actually one of the reasons I couldn't watch The Sopranos. Not a ton of violence, but when it was there, it was really disturbing.

Odd. Considering that some of the scenes I myself write can be rather violent and graphic.

Anyway, I'll probably watch the show again. Pretty well-done and I like the characters.

It's early. I need coffee.

Thoughts on Character

I'm writing this while my little guy is running around, so in between keeping him from crawling onto the table and other surfaces and generally trying to prevent him from self-inflicted injury.

So if the post is disjointed, that's why. Anyway, I was thinking this morning about how dark the character in the new release, Burning Souls is, and compared her to other characters I've written. I don't know really where Mia came from. She just kinda stepped onto the page and took over.

This led me to wonder about how much of us is in the characters we write. The character I feel closest to is definitely Leah Ryan. Am I like her? Good question. I'd say maybe in my younger days I was more like her in terms of personality, but I've mellowed over the years.

In terms of experience? I'd say I knew people like the ones she knows, but I've never done the things she's done. Have I ever stolen a car? No. I've never broken into a car in my life. But I grew up with people like her. Am I as brave as she is? If I were under the gun, maybe. Hard to say. If I had split second decisions to make.

She has definite issues. Most of my characters do. But that is what endears them to me. That is what makes the interesting enough for me to want to discover their stories. I'm interested in people. In where they really live. What makes them who they are. I think we are where we've been, and you can't change that.

She had definite intimacy issues. I used to be like that. I could sabatoge a relationship in no time flat. But I've grown up and worked through most of my shit. I hope. Christ.

But the biggest difference between us is that she's cool. I'm a geek and a spaz. Almost no place I'd rather be than with my bespeckled nose in a book, researching something on the web or writing the latest story unfolding in my mind.

I tend to write about issues that really get me in some way. They set a fire under my ass. So the issues that propel Leah into action are the same ones that concern me. People can really piss me off. But she's a character from my imagination. That is where she lives.

There are bits of me in pretty much all my characters, I'd say.

I think that what makes a character interesting enough to want to finish a book is the crap they have to work through. External and internal. Motivation, goal, obstacles, Conflict, all that stuff. I like putting them through hell and watching them try to claw their way out of hades.

For the most part I think writers are observers. We observe and record in some way what we see. I think that my curiosity and desire to observe has actually put me in some dangerous situations. A couple of which I almost didn't come out. But I'm smarter now. I hope.

Having a toddler you love more than life does that to you. And a man is your best friend, who would do anything for you, who is genuinely warm and sweet, and funny as hell, and a step-son (for lack of a better term), that I'm crazy about. You kinda wanna stick around to be with them. You know?

Speaking of which. Toddler is on top of the table. Gotta git.

Anyone Have a Rock I Crawl Under?

Oh. My. God. I really am the biggest spaz on the planet. And the more nervous I am, the worse it gets.

I was asked for assistance today by somebody I quite like and respect, but I think managed to inadvertently insult him many times over in the space of about five minutes. Wow.

He was having trouble with the taillights of his gorgeous, shiny car (the make of which I won't mention as I'm not much for mentioning people's names or makes of cars on my blog, for some odd reason. Supersitious, I think.) and so asked me for assistance.

You need to understand. Gorgeous. Car. Fantastically expensive car.

I don't want to even breathe on this car, let alone get into it. I, the queen of causing chaos and mayhem pretty much anywhere I go. The woman who mashed in the side of a professor's car many moons ago ago (he was sweet and told the insurance company that he didn't know who hit him. I paid the deductible.)Okay. It was night time. I was working three jobs and taking full-time classes.

Still.

Anyway, me, who can cause damage without ever even trying to. Oh HELL.

Not a good situation for me. So . . .

I fell into the car. Fell. Into it.

Placed my foot on the clutch instead of the brake. Never driven a standard.

Couldn't figure out the proper way to get the left signal on. (Mind numb. In fantastically expesnive car that I don't want to damange.)

Fell OUT of the car (pretty much).

Then proceeded to tell him that his car was like a roller skate.

Tried to open the wrong door, which wouldn't open.

I think he would've had better help from the neighborhood tabby cat I've seen hanging around the building. Thank God the man has an excellent sense of humour. And I don't think I damaged the car.

Wow. I shouldn't be allowed out of the house until I finish the writing of this book. Christ on a cracker.

I'm still shaking my head right now. Wow.

Anyway, it's the weekend. I have marketing on the Hearts Afire book being released on the fifth. I've actually dropped a bit of cash on advertising for this one. First time I've done that. Eye on Romance does a really nice job of plugging books. I'm giving them a try.

Must prepare materials for the ad. Book cover. Both mine and Darragha's blurbs. Hmmm. What else?

Oh, must work on blog for Liquid Silver. Darragha and I are doing a Morning After blog on LSB's blog on Oct 6th. I have another blog entry to prepare for LSB sometime later in October, as well. I think the 18th but I'll have to re-check that.

I'm off to numb my complete and utter mortification at my own spazziness in triple chocolate fudge icecream. With peanut butter and hot fudge. Sugar-free, of course.

Woohoo!

Stuart's new book is out in the UK. He. Rocks. No other way to put it. Scares the hell out of me and makes me laugh my ass off at the same time. Yes. I dig the hell out of him.

And the release date for Burning Souls is Oct 5th. This release, as I've mentioned before, is actually two books in one. It's a duet that I'm proud to be a part of with Darragha Foster.

I'm stoked!

*Happy dance*

YEAAAAAHHH!!

Blitherings

Yikes! Crazy day! Mondays are my busiest day at work. Today was more so because situations beyond my control kept me from doing what I needed to get done. That was stressful. But I got 'er done anyway! That's an awesome feeling. The adrenaline rush that happens when you're under the gun and things just aren't going the way they're supposed to, but you push through it and you make it happen anyway.

Love that. I love my job. I love the people I work with. I think that's kind of a rare thing. It's nice to wake up every morning and like going to work.

Anyway, I do love an adrenaline rush. But I hate rollercoasters. I have no control over the thing. Not a big fan of that. Never did like them.

But I've done some crazy things in my life for that rush. Things I'm certain I wouldn't try again. When I think of all the times I've put myself in dangerous situations, it makes me kind of jittery. Feels kind of like a goose walking over your grave.

I can't even tell you how many close calls I've had. How many times I missed buying the farm by some bizarre miracle or twist of fate. Uncanny really. Times I'm sure my angels were with me.

Actually, when I think of what my guardian angel might be like, I have a very clear picture in my mind. It's a guy of about 17 years old, in worn jeans and a leather jacket. He has a head of awry sandy blond curls around his head.

Why?

I'll tell you. This is a guy I met when I was a kid. A friend of my older, wild sister, who came asking for her one day. I was playing outside, and he came rolling up on his motorcycle with the nicest smile I'd seen up until that point, and for many years later. He had soft blue eyes, and he asked me if I knew her. I told him I was her sister and she was gone to the store down the street, around the corner.

He pointed down the road at the intersection, and I nodded. He said he thought he knew where that store was. He thanked me and gave me that same smile, and I think my little heart did a flip-flop right then. I felt butterflies, and I gazed after him as he rode off. He took a left at that intersection and I never saw him again.

Moments later my friends and I were jarred by the sounds of screeching tires. I know there were other sounds but I don't remember what they were, except that I knew it wasn't good. My heart beat wildy in my chest at that moment. I think I knew what had happened, but I tried to talk myself out of it. Nothing bad could happen to a guy who smiled like that, who had such a sweet way about him.

It wasn't long after that the police came, asking us if we had seen a young guy on a motorcycle. I explained that I'd spoken with him about my sister. The cop kept asking me the same thing over and over and I remember feeling annoyed and wondering if the cop had hearing trouble or if he just didn't get things very quickly.

I don't remember anything else about that day, but years later I asked my sister about that young guy. I thought of him now and then and wondered, but never really wanted to know.

She said that he died. He was hit by a car while riding his motorcycle.

Not an uplifting story. But I think about being the last person to speak with him. The last person to see that wonderful smile. And when I think of my close calls, the ones I missed by nothing more than a whispered breath, I like to think he was with me.

Posting a new playlist :) Love these songs.

Gonna go on the elliptical so that, after the day I've had, I don't scream myself to sleep haha!

Break Even

I heard this in the car the other day and actually sat in the car and waited for it to finish before getting out. I loved it instantly. I had to know the name of the song and band. Of course I love them. Turns out they're an Irish band out of Dublin.

The sound tweaked something in the far reaches of my mind. There's a character back there trying to tell me their story, I think. He or she will show up eventually and then won't shut up until I write it down.

Here is the video.

Back to writing the current book for me, while baby sleeps.

Don't You Wanna?

A fella from work sent me this. I love it!

Sad

Patrick Swayze is gone. How sad is that?

What a beautiful, graceful actor. Wow.

This and That

I was draggin' this weekend with a cold. Just sucked the energy right out of me. My lil guy was all off his schedule, too, so he wouldn't nap when he was supposed to. Writing became a pipe dream. But I'll make it up this weekend, and hopefully a couple of nights this week.

I have to get some writing done or I end up with nightmares. I usually can go two weeks tops, but after a week the weird dreams start creeping in. Just bizarre stuff. Writing is the only way to get the garbage out. That and exercise. I've been hitting the elliptical pretty steadily and that always helps. I sleep a hell of a lot better, too.

Halloween decorations and costumes are out! LOVE. THEM. They always cheer me up. Good stuff. I need to pick up a few things for the yard. We have a skeleton we hang from one of the branches of the tree in the front yard. I think I'll get a few ghosts, too. They have some really cute ones at Walmart.

That skeleton usually hangs out there until almost Christmas. Festive, no? I'm not a Christmas person. I'd rather just skip it. Although the holiday will be much more fun with my little guy, I'm just not into it.

But Halloween! Different story.

Back to work for me!

Spaz

I'm a spaz to begin with. I really am. But I am soooooo much worse when I'm in the middle of writing a book. Holy hell.

When I'm geeking on a book, and I'm really deep into the story, part of my brain is always there. It's hard for non-writers to get this sometimes but I hear snatches of dialogue here and there. Scenes play out in my head. If there's a problem I need to figure out, that problem will stay with me, even haunting me in my dreams, until I figure it out. My eyes have snapped open, out of a dead sleep, and it'll be like, YES! That's it!

I love those moments.

But when I'm really into a story, like I am now, strange things happen. I might stutter a little. This is because part of my mind is working on the book while the other part is in the here and now. I've walked into things, people. I've put shirts on inside out or backwards. Thankfully I've never left for work like that.

Oddly, the Canadian accent comes back. I've been here 10 years and I mostly lost the accent within the first year. When I first got here, I was asked many times if I was from Ireland ("You sound like that actress from Touched by an Angel." I've never watched that show but I know the actress they were referring to), or England.

My mother-in-law at the time was asked who the British girl was answering the phone (they were out at the time).

Where I'm from, a small mining town in Northern Ontario, there are a lot of Irish, Scots and Brits in my end of town. Almost everyone's parents there are from Europe. We even had a little Italy. But my neck of the woods was very Celtic. So it would stand to reason that we would have a lilt. My father was from Northern Ireland. I was raised on the wrong side of the tracks. Literally. There are train tracks going through the town.

Anyway, my point is that I now have virtually no accent. At least that's what I'm told.

Except when I'm writing or really tired. For some bizarre reason, the accent comes back here and there when I'm deep into a story. I have no idea why this should be. Maybe because my guard is down?

Weird.

So I'm spazzing on this story and all my little oddities are coming out. I wonder if it's like this for other writers.

Wow. What a long, rambling blog post. I guess I'm tired. Baby was up at 5:20 and never went back to sleep, so yeah. Guess I'm whipped.

I'm in the process of creating another playlist but it's slow going. I'll post it on the side bar when I'm done.

Off to geek out.

Bonus Writing Session

My sitter had a sudden emergency and had to take a three day leave from watching my munchkin, so I'm home today. Luckily, we were able to break the week up so that Jeff watched him yesterday and Mimmi watched him Tues. Since today is my day and the munchkin is napping, I have a bonus writing session ahead of me.

Part of his nap has already been burned up by laundry and a shower, so I'm off to write like a maniac. I'll fix whatever sucks later.

Update: Got one scene written so far. I have Court TV on without the sound. It's just background stuff for me to look at while I'm kinda staring off into space, picturing what my characters are saying and doing.

But good Christ. Am I the only one who doesn't want to watch the news anymore? I used to go to the CNN page every day. You know what? I can't do it anymore. SO. DEPRESSING.

A man killed his wife with a chainsaw? WTF? Are you kidding me?

Were people always this twisted? Or are we just seeing more of it now because the media is everywhere these days? Did we just not know about this stuff before? Are we becoming a more violent nation or have we always been like this, but there just wasn't news coverage on it all?