Kirsten Saell

on bargains...

2011-03-10T06:49:00.000-08:00

So New Guy sent me a link to this podcast yesterday and insisted I give it a listen. If you all aren't familiar with Radiolab, it's a cool program where the hosts pick an overarching theme and explore it through interviewing ordinary people and discussing their experiences.

The theme of this particular episode was "What do you do when you want something, and the person putting obstacles in your way is YOU? How do you get around yourself?" They interviewed a woman who found a novel way to convince herself to quit smoking, and a doctor who'd managed to make a bargain with himself (a threat, actually) in order to push through his writer's block and get his book on migraines written. He gave himself a deadline that was a DEADline, if you get me, and managed to finish ahead of schedule.

I don't know how effective these strategies would be for everyone, but I've made myself a huge threat, and New Guy is prepared to hold me to it. Considering the nature of the bargain--finish a project within the next 40 days, or else--I'm hoping the motivation will work. If it doesn't...I don't even want to think about it. It's nothing dangerous or damaging--more in line with the retarded things they get people to do on Fear Factor--but I still don't want to do it. :P

So.

Today, I pick my project and get my ass in gear. And in forty days, come hell or high water, it will be ready to send to my editor. Or else.

the Meaning of the Day

2011-02-13T20:42:00.000-08:00

Valentine's day is all about romance. And maybe that's why I've never really been that into it as a holiday.

Flowers. Chocolate. A fancy dinner. A night of dancing, a tub full of hot water and bubbles with candles all around, a bed strewn with rose petals. Maybe a new necklace, or a ring. The grand gesture, the ROMANCE.

Except that love isn't about the grand gesture, it's a hand brushing your shoulder as he walks by your chair, it's a cup of coffee you bring him in the morning, it's him scraping your windshield before he leaves for work so you won't have to do it in an hour. It's a glass of orange juice and some medicine delivered to your night table when you're sick. It's a thousand tiny gestures that add up, to let you know you're loved and appreciated every day of the year.

And I'm not saying that flowers and chocolate are meaningless, it's just that without those small gestures that happen all the time, well...a bouquet and a card aren't going to make up for anything.

I'm going to spend my Valentine's Day writing and waiting tables. The guy and I are going to have Chinese when I get off work. Might not sound like anything special, but it's my kinda Valentine's Day...

A happy one to you all. :)

Shhhhhh!!!

2011-02-10T20:48:00.000-08:00

...I'm writing. More words today than I've written in the last six months. I might not be "back" as yet, but it's something...

That is all.

Piracy...the issue that will not die...

2011-02-08T08:52:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post is LONG

Every once in a while, the huge, ugly, flatulent elephant-in-the-room of ebook piracy raises its trunk and trumpets, splitting eardrums far and wide, and showering those unfortunate enough to be standing too close in a nearly invisible mist of elephant snot (eww!). And for the last week, there's been a lot of discussion going on about piracy and its effect on readers and writers--not the least of which is Astatalk's startling recent announcement, presumably in reaction to a bombardment of infringement complaints to their ISP, that fiction uploads are now banned from their site. Followed almost immediately by their claims that shutting down pirate sites like Astatalk will do nothing but hurt authors' sales... Hmmm...

This post, by author Tiffany Clare, raised some hackles, that's for sure. Dear Author linked to it, as well as to another, more prosaic post on book piracy by Tobias Buckell, and the umbrage in the comment thread flew fast and thick. A day later, Azteclady put up her own post on piracy--one that expresses for the most part how I feel about things, which is somewhere in between Tiffany Clare's understandably extreme views on the problem, and Tobias Buckell's more moderate, "meh, whatever" stance.

While I'm no longer mired in the futile outrage that plagues most new authors like Ms. Clare (and myself, not so long ago), I don't tend to agree with Buckell that piracy of books is an essentially effect-neutral issue. Though I'm intelligent enough to concede that not every illegal download = a sale lost, and therefore $2 not in my pocket that should be in there, I DO NOT buy into his assertion that all illegal downloaders fall into three basic categories: 1) content collectors who will never read your book, but get a kick out of hoarding tens of thousands of books they have no interest in reading just to say they have them, 2) paying-super-fans-in-the-making, who'll illegally download to sample your work, and who, if they like it, will go on to legally purchase your next book, and your next, and your next, and 3) people in less privileged parts of the world, who through economic disparity between our world and theirs, simply CANNOT legally acquire a book that essentially costs them a week's pay.

In the first case, you haven't lost a sale, because the downloader would never have purchased your book in the first place--hell, he's not even going to read it. In the second, you stand to make MORE sales than you would have otherwise, once those downloaders sample your work for free and discover you're worth their dime. In the third, not only aren't you losing a sale, but the very act of piracy is portrayed as encouraging literacy and is seen as a charitable act toward the less fortunate (and I have to say, this is a category of illegal downloaders I find it very hard to resent).

But I think there are other categories of illegal downloaders:

The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter: I've wrangled with this type before. They download illegally, they read what they download, and they view having to pay for it as an injustice of the first order. They see no value in the "gate-keeping" service publishers provide (having never been paid to read slush, one would presume), nor any value in paid-for editing, marketing and distribution. They believe a world without copyright will be a wondrous Utopia filled with beautiful stories that are free for everyone to enjoy--stories that were somehow transformed from raw manuscripts into shining examples of quality fiction through the dogged, though unpaid, labor of enthusiasts who do their part out of the sheer joy of the work.

The problem is, editing, marketing, and distribution ARE work, and often less than joyful. Ask any editor. Hell, ask any self-published author. And no one likes to work for nothing, even when they enjoy what they do. Likewise, writing itself is work, and it's work that for most doesn't even amount to minimum wage.

I'm a single mom. I've been solely financially responsible for myself and my three kids for more than two years. I work 20-30 hours per week waiting tables, and have a half-duplex in BC I rent out for less than market value because the tenant is so reliable. My kids and I live comfortably, though very modestly (IMO, the best way to raise a child is poor, hungry and desperate, lol). The royalties from my four published books represent, on average, a mere 10-15% of my monthly income. I earn five times as much waiting tables in a 20 hour work week as my four books bring me in the same amount of time.

Very few authors are looking to get rich from their writing. Even if it's a dream (OMG, I could quit my job, hire a maid, and get to have an actual, you know...life and stuff, woot!), most of us have at least one toe of one foot planted in the soil of reality, and understand the unlikelihood of us earning a cushy living, let alone millions, from writing fiction.

But here's the thing: We still want to get paid for our work.

First, writing costs money. You need a computer (the days of tapping away on a second-hand Smith-Corona are long gone). You (arguably) need a website, and that requires hosting, which costs. You need an internet connection. Even if you're self-publishing, you'd be advised to have a professional editor look over your manuscript...unless you're perfect, like me, and your words are pure gold the moment they materialize on the screen, heh.

Second, and perhaps more importantly, writing costs time. Time with your butt in chair, hands on keyboard. Time I could be putting toward any number of other things--cleaning my bathroom, playing cards with my kids, cutting the grass, or earning $20-30/hour at my day job. Time I could be spending in the pursuit of leisure activities, like watching movies, reading other people's books, mooching dinner and beers off my parents, going out to play pool, or just sitting on my ass, staring into the middle distance and thinking back on the good old days before I had kids and a house and bills to pay, that long-ago time when being bored was a BAD thing, rather than a rare and beautiful occasion when, holy shit, there's nothing that requires my immediate attention for the next ten minutes.

I'm a creative person at heart. I will always make up stories. I started in my early teens, in the twenty minutes every night before I fell asleep--imagining characters of my own creation acting out scenes behind my closed eyelids. Daydreaming. But if it hadn't been for the possibility of eventual publication (and money), I might never, at age 15, have started writing those stories down. And once I got married and had kids, and a house to look after, and a job, and bills to pay...well, everyone has to prioritize, right? We have to decide what's most important to us, and what's least, and what falls in between. And if there'd been no potential to ever earn anything from my writing, well, writing would have been at the very, very, very bottom of my list of priorities. I'd have gone back to daydreaming, enacting my stories in my own head, and forgoing the time and effort involved in putting them on paper.

And my responsibilities and burdens have only increased since I split with my ex-husband. It's hard to find the time and energy to even daydream, let alone write. Today, the mere potential of eventual earnings wouldn't be enough to convince me to invest any time in it. If I wasn't already earning money from my writing, if it hadn't already been demonstrated that I can write a publishable novel and sell it to a publisher and make some dough, well...

Writing is something I will always enjoy doing. But it's something I can and do spend time on only because I can earn money from it. And for my publisher, publishing my books is something they do because they can earn money from it. My editor picks through manuscripts until they're as close to perfect as she can get them, because she can earn money from it. Everyone involved in the process is motivated by money to some degree or another, no matter how much they enjoy what they do.

The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter will insist that in the brave new world of no intellectual property rights, there will still be tons of great stories out there, even if no one makes any money on them. But none of those stories would be mine, because I'd rather be a financially comfortable full-time waitress than a starving part-time waitress/writer. Most authors are regular people with regular jobs and bills to pay and a few little people who look like them depending on their income for things like diapers and school supplies and braces. And yeah, maybe some would keep writing if there was no earning potential in it--but they'd write less, because they'd have less time to write. And some of those would write one or two books for the personal validation and feedback they'd get out of doing it, and then get distracted by all the other things they could be and should be investing their time in, rather than this silly writing business that doesn't and won't ever earn them anything but a feeling of accomplishment and a pat on the back.

The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter will insist that in this brave new Utopia, there would be other ways authors could monetize their work--like merchandising or movie rights. But those alternate revenue steams are also dependent on copyright. Without copyright, anyone could profit off exploiting my story or characters in any way they wanted, and wouldn't have to pay me one dime. The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter will insist that a "tip jar" on an author's website would bring in plenty of money, the way an open guitar case attracts coins for a busker from passersby. But there's something very different about standing and enjoying a few songs on a street corner, and then walking away while the musician watches without throwing in a coin, and downloading a book for free. An author can't SEE you reading and enjoying his book. An author can't SEE you not throwing in those few quarters. And frankly, for many people, as long as no one SEES them behaving like a turd-ass, they feel perfectly fine in doing so. There are lots of people who would "tip" an author whose work they'd enjoyed. But there are also lots and lots and lots of people who wouldn't.

The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter is loathe to acknowledge the role profit plays in any creative endeavor, from the invention of the light bulb, to the creation of software programs like Windows, to writing fiction. The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter believes rightly that necessity is the mother of invention, but he refuses to acknowledge that potential wealth is its semen-providing father. The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter believes that fame and social status are enough to keep creative types creating and putting their work out there--and for some that may be true. There's a reason why, when my guy talks about me to his friends, he tells them I'm an author or a writer or a novelist, rather than a waitress, even though I spend way more time and earn way more money serving food than I do writing books. It's social cred, for sure. But social cred doesn't pay your phone bill, does it?

There's nothing that will convince The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter that his vision of a copyright-free paradise is misguided in any way. Even if his wish came true--copyright was abolished--and all that resulted was one giant, hideous pile of slush rather than sunshine, lollipops and high-quality, cost-free fiction galore, he'd insist that unforeseen forces had interfered with what would otherwise have been a golden age of fiction. So debating copyright with him is about as amusing as talking socio-economics with a gang of upper-middle-class born, teenage, quasi-communist, wannabe-street-kid, preach-socialism-from-the-cradle-of-privilege activists. Talking to people who base their philosophy on a world they wished existed but never can, rather than a better permutation of the world that is, well, it's essentially like talking to a brick wall.

So since there's nothing that will convince The Anti-Copyright Freedom Fighter to change his ways, we'll move onto the next category of illegal downloaders I've encountered.

The Super-Fan Who Still Won't Pay: She loves your books. She gushes about them to all who'll listen. She read your first and second titles and was so impressed, she's been lauding you all over the forum. Then she posts her request: "Hey guys! I adore this author! You should read her, she's fantastic! But I can't find her third book on the torrent site where I got her first two--anyone here have it to upload?"

This downloader stumbled on a pirate site one day, saw craploads of books she wanted to read, all available for nothing, and never looked back. Her very first post went along the lines of, "OMG, you have Nora Roberts' latest??!! So cool! I've been wanting that one for months! And to think I used to actually PAY for her books! I'm so grateful to have found you guys!"

The community felt warm and welcoming. And she got some serious warm fuzzies from uploading books from her own computer, and "sharing" all her favorite reads with her new friends. She believes them when they tell her it isn't stealing. And they're right--it isn't stealing.

But it isn't sharing, either. Sharing requires that you give up something in order to give something to someone else. When you share a cookie with someone, you no longer get to eat the whole cookie, do you? When you share a physical book, you have to hand it over to the other person and trust that they'll give it back when they're done. What she's doing isn't sharing--it's copying and distributing. Illegally. She doesn't have to give up one damn thing in order to get the good feeling of providing something of value to others. She didn't put in any of the work needed to create the book (hell, she might not have even paid for it), she doesn't own the rights to distribute the work, but she'll happily give it away to 4000 of her closest buddies, soak up their praise and gratitude, and in doing so, cut the content producer right out of the equation. She's trampled on the authors' right to decide where and how to make their books available to readers. She's taken something of value that someone else owns, given it away for nothing, and gets a shit-ton of backslapping in return. She's become the hero, and the author is forgotten. And no matter how much she adores your writing, she won't pay you one thin dime for it.

She understands that it's illegal to do what she's doing. She may even understand that it hurts authors--emotionally if not fiscally. But she doesn't care, as long as she gets what she wants...for free.

But there may be a way to reach some of these downloaders. A year or more ago, I stumbled into a blog discussion on the "feminization" of science fiction. The guy who wrote the OP insisted it was part of a feminist political agenda to girly-up everything that used to be just for the boys. A commenter--one known for his penchant for wearing only designer clothes, so presumably not on his last nickel--chimed in to say the latest Star Trek was an awesome movie. He'd ripped it off the net and watched it three times. Shit, why don't they make more movies like THAT? To which I replied, "Well, boys, you have your answer right there. Young men like those movies, but young men don't like to, you know, actually pay to watch them. They rip stuff off the net instead. So movie studios make sure that all their films will appeal to the ladies in some way or another--because women drag their boyfriends to the damn theater, and that's the only way studios have a hope in hell of earning back their $300 million in production costs. Want more movies made just for you? PAY for the movies you want to watch."

Producers get paid to produce. Consumers pay to consume. That's the way commerce works--even when that commerce involves creative content. And if readers want books they like--especially ones that are not quite mainstream--they need to pay for them if they want more of that sweet, sweet content.

Authors' careers are made by the sales they make, and they're likewise broken by the sales they DON'T make. Sometimes the difference between a second contract and the effective end of a career is as little as a few thousand copies. And no amount of pointing to a pirate site and saying, "I have a readership in the tens of thousands who adore my books--look at them discussing me all over the forum and singing my praises!" will do an author any good. Because just as there's no way to prove that those readers AREN'T members of Buckell's second category of downloaders--those paying-super-fans-in-the-making--there's no way to prove to your publisher that any of them ARE. All the publisher sees is a reader base that would rather illegally download your book than pay for it.

Which brings me to the downloaders I feel can be turned around, if only everyone can just stay calm, state their case, and try not to sling mud or be judgmental.

The I Didn't Realize: Believe it or not, there are people out there who simply have no idea how publishing even works, who have no notion of how squeaky the profit margins in the industry are. Who just don't realize that if you're not Stephen King of Nora Roberts or JK Rowling, chances are you don't earn--and might never earn--a comfortable living from your books. I encounter these people all the time--customers and coworkers and acquaintances who express astonishment that, "What the heck? You have four books published? What are you doing still slinging hash?"

Movies like "Stranger than Fiction" portray authors as some mythical upper/outer economic class of people who are so financially valuable to publishers that they have "handlers" and "assistants" who are paid to babysit them while they work. People envision things like book tours, which are pretty much non-existent unless you're one of Oprah's darlings. The common assumption is that books are big money, when in reality, 80% of traditionally published books already LOSE money for the publisher, and are subsidized by the profits earned through the big name workhorses in the stable. The prevailing wisdom is that artists often starve, even after they've been discovered, but writers stop starving the moment they get a contract.

The general sentiment is that publishers have bottomless pockets, and their wallets can take any number of hits and none of it will ever trickle down to the lowest person on the profit totem pole--the newb or midlist author. But a little time on Holly Lisle's website certainly cured me of any ideas of getting filthy rich off my books. She's a successful, midlist author who had 14 books in print and earning steadily for her before she felt it was safe to quit her day job. And the digital publishing industry is so unstable--between fly-by-night publishers, piracy, and the big industry boys stirring up the waters and fucking with everything--that I don't know if I'd ever feel safe to quit mine.

And when you consider that profits from authors like Nora Roberts are what allow big publishers to take chances on untried newbs, and keep taking chances on them even after their first attempts didn't do as well as projected...well, all of a sudden piracy doesn't feel so harmless, even if you're only illegally downloading one of LaNora's books, does it?

The I Didn't Realize has no idea that most authors have to forcibly wedge time to write in between the job that gives them a stable income, household chores, kids and a million other things their mother-in-law thinks would be a better use of their time. Like dusting the tops of doors and making the beds and stuff. And because the I Didn't Realize isn't actually stealing, and because the I Didn't Realize doesn't realize how tenuous an author's career can be, it's hard to see that illegally downloading does any real damage.

Illegal downloading is not the same as theft. It's less obviously harmful, but more insidious in its potential to do lasting damage, because it ISN'T theft. It's like jumping the turnstile and riding the subway for free. People can justify it so easily because the subway is going that way anyway, and as long as they're not taking a seat away from a paying rider, what's the problem? Except that on the digital subway, there's an unlimited number of seats, so no matter how many people ride for free they're never taking a seat from someone who's paid their fare. Until, of course, there are no seats at all, because hardly anyone's been paying for the ride, and the transit authority can no longer justify the conductor's salary or the price of fuel.

This is the very real fear authors have regarding piracy. Because the more people do it, and justify it, the easier it is for others to rationalize joining in. Especially when so many people out there are I Didn't Realizes.

It's the I Didn't Realizes who need to be educated and encouraged to support their favorite authors, to vote with their wallets, to reward the people who produce the books they love so writers can keep writing them, and publishers will keep publishing them. Because that's what we all want, isn't it? For the authors we love to keep giving us great books to read. And for me as a reader, my part in that equation is to purchase those books as much as I can, or get them from a library that purchased them, or buy a used copy that will fall apart eventually and have to be--you guessed it--purchased again at some point if it's to be read again.

As I've said elsewhere, creative work is not the same as "regular" work, even when that regular work requires skill and training. Writing fiction, or designing buildings, furniture or clothes, or painting, or sculpting, or writing/performing songs is not the same as being a pilot, or a receptionist, or a waitress, or a nurse, or a mechanic, or a drywaller, or a crane operator, or an accountant, or the guy who screws caps on tubes of toothpaste in a factory. Creative work has--or should have--a different perceived value than other kinds of labor, both to the creator and to the consumer. Because any mechanic can adjust your timing chain, but nobody but me can write MY books. Every book, every song, every painting, every sculpture ever produced is something unique that was generated essentially out of nothing, through the determination, imagination, and craft of the people involved. If I quit my day job, they'd just hire another waitress. Ribs and drinks would be delivered to customers, dirty dishes would get cleared away. But if I don't write my books, no one else will ever write them, because no one else can. They just won't exist, because they're my creations.

Because of this, the 10-15% of my income that I earn through writing means much more to me than the other 85-90% I get from other sources. That 10-15% is HUGE, because I earned it producing something no one else in the world could ever, or will ever, produce--books that came out of my imagination, books where every single sentence was of my creation. And this is why I feel it's so difficult for most authors to do as Buckell advises and simply divorce emotion from a cold, logical analysis of the economic effects of piracy. Because though there's no reliable way to quantify what pirating may or may not cost me, there's no escaping the feeling that it costs me something, even if that something is essentially unknowable. Even if that something is only control over how and where and for how much my work is distributed. Even if that something is just the right to say, "My book is worth $4, and if you want to read it you should pay that, or get it from the library, or get it second hand so that I know someone, at some point, paid for that copy of it."

People who pirate my books are in essence demonstrating to me that my work is worth nothing to them, even when they enjoy reading it, even when they rave about it. They're telling me that I should not have a say in how my work is distributed. Their constant congratulating of each other is like telling me that their role--as uploaders of my books--is as worthy of recognition among their peers as, or more worthy than, my role as the person who actually wrote them.

And that...well, it's discouraging. And it's also discouraging to realize that the number of downloads of one of my books from a single pirate site is often greater than the number of copies of ALL my books that have ever been legally purchased.

I have excerpts posted on my website to give readers a taste of my style, and there are reviews of my books that are easily found around the internet. Anyone who wants to sample my writing can do so legally, and if they decide that the size and quality of that sample isn't enough to justify them risking the price of a Starbucks latte on the actual book...well, I suppose that's fair enough. I've heard lots of downloaders insist what Buckell insists--that most of them are paying-super-fans-in-the-making--but I've seen plenty of evidence that even people who've read and adored my books, hell, who are panting for them, are often unwilling to pay for the next one if they can get it for free.

I've heard the DRM argument, and the geographical restrictions argument, and the price-point argument--all of which are valid, but none of which can be applied to my publisher's books, which are DRM-free from their own storefront, available to purchasers worldwide, downloadable infinitely and in multiple formats for one price, and priced more than reasonably. Those are some of the reasons I chose the publisher I did--I wanted to make it as easy and inexpensive as possible for people to purchase and enjoy my books. And yet people still pirate them. Lots of people. Not just citizens of Third World countries who couldn't otherwise afford them, but people from North America and Europe who easily can. Not just people who tried me out and said, "meh," but people who think I'm the cat's pajamas.

So I don't know what's to be done to fix the problem. I just know that for an author, it's very, very hard not to take it personally. And the only tactic I think will have any bearing on anyone is to calmly and clearly state our positions, as authors who want more time to devote to writing, not less, and more opportunities to convince publishers to take on our work and get it out there, not fewer.

Anyway, that's my take on the subject. :)

Life's been pretty sweet

2011-02-04T12:16:00.000-08:00

Okay, it hasn't been all sweet, by any stretch of the imagination. But the good has mostly outweighed the bad of late. It has been really busy, though, which is no excuse for not blogging, but it's all I've got, so there you go.

My personal life has been kind of all over the place. The divorce drama has not died...it's merely mutated into something less costly in the financial sense, but more frustrating and disheartening than ever. This latest to-do (and no, I'm not going to elaborate in public, but it's probably even worse than what your imagination can conjure) has made me wonder, yet again, how some people can be terrified of marriage because it's a "serious commitment", but will often think nothing of having a child with that person they're too chicken to marry. You want to be stuck dealing with someone for the rest of your life, no matter how much you'd like to never see or think of him again? Have a dang child with him. Marriage is easy to get out of--especially these days. Kids are forever. Oy.

My job is going well. I like almost all the people there, and there's so little of the bullshit that went on at my previous job. It's fewer hours than the breakfast place, and I therefore have less money piling up under the mattress, but I still have plenty to get by, and enough to even exercise a little largess here and there. Likewise, the kids are all right. Steady as we go, onwards and upwards, and all that.

My royalty checks are still nice and big(gish), though they'd be bigger if I had more books out, for sure. Working on that. :)

I've been seeing someone fairly steadily since mid-November. It's been bumpy, but somehow we've managed to hang in there this long. He's...well, he's funny and brilliant and kind and honest and sweet. And a little weird--perhaps just weird enough to appreciate my own particular weirdness. And he's pushing me to write, and I think I need that kind of kick in the pants to launch myself full-on back into the habit at this point. So if I have a new book contract in the next month or so, you'll all know who to thank.

I'm still largely ignoring housework, and most of the writing I've been doing has been in emails to friends rather than fiction, or comments on blogs. I've been trying to stir up enough interest to join in on some discussions going on in the online romance community, but lately there hasn't been much posted around the neighborhood that arouses my passions, so to speak. Anybody feel like posting something outrageous enough that I can't resist jumping in, please do so. I'd appreciate it. :)

So there's the update. Still alive, cautiously optimistic about my life, but still dealing with stuff I'd rather wash my hands of. Gonna try to blog more, if I can think of anything to say that won't bore you all to tears, lol.

Hugs.

Christmas mayhem...

2010-12-22T22:14:00.000-08:00

Well, my family, as wonderful as they are, have managed to put a crimp in my typically last-nanosecond (hey, the tree only went up yesterday, haha) preparations for the big event. Because my sister's son and stepsons will be celebrating on Christmas Day with their "other" families (oh, divorce, how you complicate matters), our family celebration--complete with turkey dinner and at least a portion of the gift-unwrapping--will be done Christmas Eve. This means I have ONE DAY to finish all the shopping and wrapping, instead of two. And I work at 5 on the 23rd, wheeeeee! Should be a fun day. :)

I haven't even counted the gifts I've managed to get for each kid (they should each have an equal number of presents under the tree, even if I have to wrap socks and underwear, dammit), so I'm not sure who I even have to buy for in the morning. But I did manage to get a few things I need for myself to wrap and put under the tree, so the kids won't feel I've been completely left out on the big day. (I'm usually ruthless about denying myself material things, but hey, it's freaking Christmas and I could use some nice, 300 thread count, 100% combed Egyptian cotton sheets, so what the heck. Hang the expense.)

This will be my first Christmas here in Edmonton in over a decade, and I can't freaking wait. But as much as I like having family around, the weather has been brutal. I think temps have averaged out at about -15C for the last six weeks or so, and my car is covered in crud and salt from the roads. Lugging stuff in from the car to the house leaves me hypothermic, my fingers stinging from the cold, even through gloves. Lugging it back to the car, all wrapped and nice, just to lug it into my parents' condo won't be fun, either. But it will be worth it. :)

Frankly, a turkey dinner cooked by someone else, with the dishes going into someone else's dishwasher? I can't even imagine what that's like. And we're having ham at my sister's on Christmas Day, too, even if we'll be three kids short. Two evenings of wine and comfort food, family and Christmas spirit, and no mess in my house...that's freaking priceless.

Next year is soon enough for me to have everyone over to my house. I still have renoes to finish in order to make this place liveable (oy), and I'll hopefully be in a better position to dictate days off with my employer by then. And maybe next year I won't leave everything to the last possible moment, too. But I don't think so, lol.

busy busy busy

2010-12-05T11:08:00.000-08:00

So I was out all morning yesterday, but my amazing 15-y/o daughter fielded the delivery confirmation call from Leon's, gave the guy directions to the house, reviewed the invoice, and had her older brother sign for the bunk beds that arrived while I wasn't here. (Yet somehow she can't manage to throw her granola bar wrappers in the trash, even when the trash can is 4 inches from the table where she's left the pile of wrappers. Hmmm.....)

So now I will spend my day moving furniture, lugging the rest of the scrap from the wet bar out onto the back patio (to be carted away in the spring when the condo board brings back the "big bin"), and putting the boys' bed together. And working at 5, as usual.

Also spent my morning sorting out my money, trying to figure out how to juggle bills and stuff from my 4 bank accounts at 3 different banks (necessary, between rental income, debt payment and my US income, but annoying and a little confusing to keep track of, all the same).

My daughter's computer finally died the other day, so now I not only need a new one for my oldest (his planned x-mas gift, to replace the one he's outgrown), I need to look into a laptop for her if I ever want to get 5 minutes on my own computer again. So Christmas will be a little more pricey than I'd thought--but still essentially workable.

My sofa looks awesome, and I managed to fit it into the available space without having to rearrange everything in the room, which is cool. And it had a little bit of damage on the upholstery, so I called and they gave me a 15% discount on it--preferable to having another one delivered, and then having my kids end up doing the same amount of damage in the space of a week, no? Nicest thing about it is the lack of squabbling over couch space, though I'm sure they'll find something else to pick at each other about soon enough, lol.

Now that the wet bar is out of the way, the amount of space downstairs is HUGE. At least compared to what it was. The old sofa should fit there perfectly, and I'm planning a built-in computer desk that will serve all the kids. It should be a nice place for them to hang out when it's done (drywalled and painted)--less like a squat in a condemned building and more like an actual, you know, room. And finishing it will up the value of my sister's place, which will make me feel better about her giving me a break on the rent.

I'm getting lots of shifts at work--more than I really want or need--but at the same time, I do need to get a pot together for Christmas, so I'm letting that slide a bit. It's going to be busy over the next few weeks, but I'll manage. :)

too much to do...

2010-11-29T07:55:00.000-08:00

It's been a while since I blogged, and I thought I better let you all know I'm still alive.

So here's the update: still alive. Might want to ask me again in ten minutes, just to make sure.

I changed jobs not too long ago--just after returning from what I hope is my last trip back to the soggy reaches of North Vancouver Island for a while--trading in my gig at the 24-hour egg and pancake house for a less hour-intensive job at a rib joint. I like it much better--I still work mostly evenings, and it's still 5 days a week, but the shifts are shorter and the politics are a bit less obtrusive and frustrating. The money's not quite as good, but it's still plenty, and a fair trade-off for having an average of 3 hours more every day to get other shit done.

I've been dating a fair bit, too. It's been hit or miss for a while now, though at the moment things seem to be more hit than miss. Fingers crossed and all that.

I've been undoing some of the renovations done by the guy who lived here before my sister bought the place. The guy didn't actually finish anything, his taste is abysmal (think appalling 1980s nouveau-riche), and his workmanship shoddy at best yet built to last--half of it's still bare plywood, none of the joints meet properly, nothing's level or square, but the 9000 nails he used has made demolition positively grueling. Nothing like getting it all wrong AND making it next to impossible to change, right? It's been fun...NOT.

I went out furniture shopping a couple weeks ago, and bought myself a sectional sofa and some bunk beds for my boys. The sofa arrives tomorrow, and I have to spend today before work figuring out how the hell it's going to fit in my tiny living room, heh. Wish me luck--full-sized sectional in a condo-sized living room? Oy.

My 40th birthday came and went without any huge, hideous emotional crisis. Sure, it ain't great to be officially middle-aged, but it's not so bad when you neither look nor feel it.

I've been kicking around the idea of really resuming the writing thing in the New Year. Looking at it like a job, rather than an avenue for self-expression and a little extra income. I should really be doing that right now, but there's too much to do with the holidays coming, and all the upheaval of rearranging my house. We'll see.

But that's my life as of Nov. 29, 2010. Pretty boring, really. Aren't you glad I filled you in?

new story

2010-10-27T14:55:00.001-07:00

Okay, it's not ten thousand words in one of my many WIPs, but at least it's SOMETHING. I've posted a new short story on my website--a very short one (just a little over 1000 words)--that I wrote today when I was supposed to be vacuuming my living room (sorry, mom).

It's a little more...intense than most of the other stuff I've written. So I'm going to post a little disclaimer about the content. It's not only dirty, it's kind of uh..."caveman" and might not be everyone's thing. I'm not expecting that it will upset most people, but survivors of sexual assault might find it triggering. Just sayin'.

Coming out...

2010-10-11T10:36:00.000-07:00

It's National Coming Out Day in the US (Turkey Day for us Canucks), and I thought I'd post something more relevant than "Happy Thankgiving!"

For me, coming out as a bisexual was kind of easy. My parents have always been supportive and accepting (even of the stupid things I do), my sisters, kids and extended family are pretty liberal-minded, and frankly, half the strangers I encounter would probably suspect I dig women, anyway (the short hair and comfortable shoes give me away, lol). There was no drama in me going from closeted admirer of girls to open admirer of girls, no cutting me from any wills, no shunning or freak-outs (at least not where I could see them), and if there was any Othering or bigotry going on in regard to my being attracted to both men and women, well, most if it hasn't been directed at me so much as the concept of bisexuality, and what I've encountered has come from within the GLBT community at least as frequently as from the wider population.

Coming out was easy-peasy, all things considered. Gotta love Canada and our progressive ways of thinking.

But I've recently had kind of a light-bulb moment in regard to my gender identity. I've always considered myself a bit queer in that regard. Kind of an amalgam of male and female squashed together in my psyche and heart and not exactly getting along most of the time. My sexual feelings for men have always been very yin, and my sexual feelings for women have always been rather yang, so to speak. And like Lianon, the protagonist of some of my books, I've always felt like the trappings of femininity--jewellery, dresses, floral prints, long hair, lipstick, high heels, pretty much anything girly--are not just a costume when I wear them, but a misrepresentation and an undermining of who I am.

So there I was at [insert franchise name here], picking up an application, and I'm looking at the servers--all of them in tight, short, low-cut dresses, heels, and tarted up to look like "Escort Barbie"--and I'm thinking, "I can't work here! Shit, even if I could trick myself out to look like a 20 y/o hooker (and I probably could), I'd feel ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. I'd feel like I was wearing a sandwich board that said, 'I'm pretending to be something I'm not!'"

More than that, I'd feel weak. And oddly sexless, if you'll believe. I love being a woman--wouldn't trade it for anything--but my femininity is best expressed through a masculine screen. I show off my female curves, but wear clothes that emphasize my female body from within a masculine context. My hair is short, but pixyish--if it looked butch on me I'd find another style. I wear make-up that emphasizes the femininity of my face, but in an understated way.

I feel my strongest and sexiest and most sensual and most confident in that uniform. And yet, I've always been left with the feeling, insidious and disheartening, that this being, this...ME, is somehow not a proper woman.

It comes from a lot of different places. From my (soon to be ex) husband, who told me that my short hair made me look like a man (it doesn't, but long hair is a strong enough icon of femininity that it mattered to him). From men on dating sites who ask if there are any pictures of me with long hair, or wearing a dress. From men who tell me I'm hot, but man, if I only put on a tight skirt and heels, I'd stop traffic. From lovers who've purchased lacy lingerie for me and then complained when I didn't wear it. From men in bars who look at me with open admiration and desire, then hit on the less attractive girl in the lacy purple camisole with the teased hair and ballet flats. Even from well-meaning friends on shopping trips who pick out floral-print, empire-wasted tops for me to try on.

The implication has always been that what I am at my core--and what I love most about myself--is somehow defective. It's like a black person constantly confronted with people who say, "If you can present as a little more...ah...white, you're hired," or, "I love you, and because I love you I'm willing to accept that you're not a blue-eyed blonde--you don't mind if I imagine I'm fucking Jennifer Aniston when we do it, do you?" or, "you'd look a lot more attractive if you de-emphasized your African features."

In the past, I've sought out very masculine men for relationships, because they make me feel feminine in comparison. I've resisted relationships with women because of my fear that my masculinity will take over somehow, and I'd lose sight of my femaleness altogether. And I didn't even really realize I was doing it.

Until I walked into IFNH and saw those botox girls in their stilettoes and little black dresses, and thought of the one man who didn't make me feel like I was not a "real woman". It was a brief relationship, but one that helped me learn all kinds of things about who I am and what I want. And what I want is for a man to tell me, with his words, with his actions, with his eyes: "You turn me on." Full stop. None of this, "You turn me on, but you'd turn me on even more if you put on this frilly bit of something and some thigh-highs. I know it makes you feel silly and inadequate, but it would make you more attractive to me."

That man told me things like, "I love your hair, OMG, short hair on a woman just does something to me." "Those paint-stained jeans are the sexiest thing I've ever seen you in." "You're so hot, you're like a stalking cat, lean and strong and so fucking sexy." He even called me "hyper-feminine" once. Who knew! He never once asked me to wear a skirt, or if I owned anything lacy. Never once implied, through word or look or action, that he might be more attracted to me if I presented myself in a more feminine way. He wouldn't have changed a single thing about how I express who I am at my core.

And for that, I'd like to thank him here. And I'd like to come out to everyone as ME, unusual, a little queer, somewhat extraordinary, but at my essence, a real woman.

my bad...

2010-09-14T06:48:00.000-07:00

The other day I got a letter from a self-proclaimed fan of my work, gently (very gently) scolding me for not writing more. Telling me that he and my other "adoring fans" had waited patiently for my next book long enough. He was effusive enough in his praise for my work that I hardly recognized it for the admonishment it was, and honestly, it made me feel really flattered to know there are people out there who enjoy my work enough that they're getting frustrated waiting for me to release another title.

And it didn't get my back up at all, because he's right. I do need to get to it. Word-counts on my works in progress have moved little enough that it's not worth the bother of even updating my word-meters.

I keep telling myself (and the rest of you) that I simply don't have time to write, but that isn't it. I have time, lots of it, because my kids are pretty self-sufficient and I don't particularly care about keeping my house gorgeous (and haven't been doing it in any case, as anyone who tries to navigate across the legos and assorted detritus on my living room floor would tell you). Sure, I've been working a lot, and dealing with some serious logistical crap in regard to changing provinces, but I've got 4 hours a day with nothing that NEEDS to fit into it.

I just haven't been in the right frame of mind to do it.

I've been through an emotional ringer a few times since November over relationships that didn't work out the way I wanted. Black moments galore since February, but no climax to counter them, no sweet denoument into the land of happily ever after. My love life, it has not been romance of late. It's been lit-fic of the worst kind--the kind where unrequited love stays unrequited, where the hero gets screwed over by circumstances, the villain (or villainess) is victorious, and the heroine ends up alone yet again.

Add to that the fact that I spent my last year in BC angsting about even surviving, staring into a future where I'd indefinitely be making my mortgage payments with my credit card (actually, not indefinitely, because it would max out eventually, heh), where no matter how many thousands of dollars I handed to my lawyer he couldn't seem to help me, and struggling with the understanding that moving with my kids under the circumstances could have serious legal repercussions.

And when I'd finally concluded I had no choice but to relocate or be completely and irretrievably ruined by the status quo, and had put the process in motion, my stepson died. Right in the middle of that already difficult transition, a sweet, loving, soft-hearted kid I could only have felt closer to had he lived with us full time, just...gone.

And even now that things are less stressful; now that I've mostly weathered the loss of my stepson; now that I've accepted that me moving at what turned out to be the worst possible time for everyone--and the terrible pain it caused others--was simply unavoidable; now that my kids and I have the help and support we need from my family; now that I'm not scrambling to make my bills or facing decisions like "will it be milk or bread, because I can't afford both"; now that my divorce is finally looking like it will be over and done with and might not send me to the poorhouse after all ... well, there are other worries moving in to replace all that.

My divorce may be almost dealt with, but in order to settle it, I'm taking on a huge amount of risk. In a couple years I might have a nice sum of money to spend on tuition for my kids. But if property values don't recover in the hideously depressed community where my house sits, or if I can't keep it rented out, all I may end up with is a shit-ton of regret, more debt, and three kids who aren't going to college after all.

I'm staring ahead two months toward my 40th birthday, and feeling like I've wasted a lot of my life on nothing special. On struggling and putting up with things, instead of living. And it's been hard to put myself in the shoes of characters who do more than just struggle to make it from one day to the next, who fight for what they want--happiness, love, a feeling of belonging--and get it because it's what they deserve. What everyone deserves, when you think about it.

But you know what? That's no excuse. None of it is, really. I told someone I love recently that you get the life you choose, and it's true. Sure, outside circumstances have their way with us, but it's up to us to choose how we react to them, whether we opt to just settle for what the universe dishes out, or whether we work around the situation, or climb over it, or bulldoze through it.

I told someone else I loved recently that for my last year in BC I felt like a rat in a maze, wandering around looking for a way out that would be easy and uncompicated, but the only way out was blocked by lawyers with baseball bats, so eventually I had to kick a hole in the wall. It was difficult and costly in so many ways, but it was worth it.

And I can sit here and angst about everything I'm still dealing with and get nothing real accomplished, or I can put all of that angst aside. If there's nothing I can do about it, there's no point in worrying, is there? Just get on with things, put one foot in front of the next, one word on the page after another. Accept that even though things still kind of stink in some parts of my life, they stink a lot prettier than they did a year ago.

Words on the page, in life and in fiction. And I might not have that god-like power over the universe in real life that I get to exercise in my writing, but I still get to write some of my own story.

And maybe it's time to rev up that bulldozer. I think I'm done with kicking holes in things, though. My foot still hurts from the last time, lol.

I am not quite dead yet...

2010-08-14T15:02:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's been forever since I blogged. And forever (okay, a little more than a year) since I released a book. And incidents of my misbehavior in other people's internet houses--heck, I'll admit I can make a pest of myself at times--have dwindled to almost nothing. Sad, I know.

Work, sleep, dishes, bills, kids, laundry, shopping, nagging my divorce lawyer, wrestling with bureaucracies...that's my life these days. Nothing much exciting happening, and no time for anything but the mundane.

Then I stumbled on this post today, over at EREC, which indicates that on a per-title basis, erotic romance ebook sales have pretty much "flattened out". This jives with the traditional wisdom that ebooks often sprint out of the gate, garnering the majority of sales in the first month--often the first day--they're available, then fizzle.

But you wouldn't know it to look at my royalty statements. I haven't released a book in over a year--haven't sent anything to my editor since March of 2009, in fact, when I shot off my finished manuscript of The Chancellor's Bride. And yet over the last several months, my royalty statements have seen a serious upswing. My statement for July '10 was topped only by that of July of last year, the month The Chancellor's Bride (my sole foray into m/m/f) released. And though almost half of my last cheque was from sales of that title, the other half consisted of sales of my first two--Crossing Swords and Healer's Touch (both m/f with f/f), which released wayyyy the heck back in March '08 and August '08 respectively.

In fact, Crossing Swords sold more copies last month (or my royalties for last month reflected more sales, because not all vendors do their accounting on a monthly basis) than it did in its month of release. And Healer's Touch did the same--more sales on this statement than in its first month on the market. And the vast majority of those sales are coming from Amazon.

Now granted, the numbers are still pretty small compared to those of other Samhain authors. That f/f tag in the content warning still repels a lot of readers. But Amazon has a larger customer base than MBaM, for sure, and I always had the feeling my brand of f/f books might turn out to be slow-starters. The Chancellor's Bride has a readership that is vast and avid, but already very well-served in the market, and it's followed the traditional pattern of most erotic romance ebooks--the first ten days of sales were great, then the next month...not so much. The readership had moved on to the latest batch of 100+ m/m and m/m/f books that were new and shiny and exciting and ready for action, and promptly forgot about my little book.

But f/f books (even in the context of a m/f romance) have to get in front of the eyes of a readership that is both small and elusive (and pretty damn picky, too, the way I am when I read f/f). That readership is not necessarily going to be well-represented among those early adopters of erotic romance ebooks--the women who turned to the internet for the content they craved (largely super-dirty het romance and m/m). Women who would NOT be repelled by that slash-tag in the warning weren't likely to be hanging out in their thousands at MBaM just waiting for the one title in 100 or 1000 that gives them what they want. But a growing number of them apparently own Kindles, or have a Kindle app on their iPhones.

It seems between decent reviews, solid word of mouth, availability on Amazon and the mainstreaming of the Kindle, my books are finding their readership. It may always be a small segment of a more mainstream one, and that's okay with me. F/f in whatever context is what I love to write, and I'm good at it. And I've said it before: I'd rather be a big fish in the small girl-on-girl pond than a small fish in the vast m/m ocean. I still feel the same way. I'd rather be one of a very few who write f/f with a bi/bi-curious slant--and do it well--than one of countless hundreds or thousands who write het and m/m. Because as the market for f/f makes the transition to ebooks, readers won't have to sift through thousands of titles to take a chance on one of mine, will they? And if they discover they like the way I write it, my name will be on a very short list of authors, and easily remembered.

And I'll take a moment to express here and now how grateful I am that my publisher has a decent contract with entities like Amazon, and offers some of the most author-friendly terms of any epublisher regarding second-party sales. Because sales are awesome, but only if they earn you some scratch, baby.

:)

my feet, they hurt...

2010-06-21T08:18:00.000-07:00

OMG, I worked 12 hours on Saturday. In new shoes. My old ones--which I've been wearing to work for three years--are at the shoe-repair getting new soles. Yes, they're so comfy, I'm paying to fix them. And honestly? The uppers are still in really good shape considering the odometer reading on them. But for the last three shifts, I've been forced to wear a new pair I bought--same brand, different style, and just...ow. And I was still stuck in those torture devices yesterday.

And last night, well, it being Father's Day, we got hit with a late rush. My manager (much though I adore him) was shortsighted enough to send the hostess home at 5 because it was dead, and then we got slammed at 6. The parking lot was full, and between two servers we did $1800 in sales, about 3/4 of it between 6 and 8.

On the bright side, my awesome manager (whom I have dubbed "Superguy") cleans tables, runs food, fetches drinks, seats people, takes payment, and generally does whatever it takes to help us out. And afterward, he took a few minutes to tell me how much he likes the way I work--said he really likes that even when it's busy I don't show my stress to the customers, I'm always still smiling and joking with them.

And when my last table--an old lady and her handicapped son (who were admittedly a major PITA), got up to leave, he told me she ALWAY complains and demands a discount every time because she's unhappy with the food or the service or SOMETHING.

I said, "well, she was a pain, but she didn't complain about anything to ME." He laughed and said, "Hah, you can take payment, you'll see," and hid in the kitchen (the bastage). The other server bursts out laughing and says, "Yeah, you take payment, haha," and hurries off to pretend to be busy elsewhere. And the old lady just hands me the bill and her money, says, "Hey, lovely lady, thanks for everything. It was wonderful," and leaves.

Apparently, that's the first time she hasn't had a laundry list of grievances when she gets up to the till. Hah! Take that! Superguy was stunned. The other waitress just stood there and gaped.

Of course, now this means Superguy is probably going to seat all the problem customers in my section, sigh. But bring it on. I can take it.

getting settled...

2010-05-22T06:20:00.001-07:00

Well, it's official, and I can now come right out and announce to you all that I've moved from the dismal, depressing rainforests of coastal BC to the alternately frigid and scorching wastelands of central Alberta. Despite the vagaries of the climate here (mosquitoes, how I loathe you), and the fact that I now have to contend with actual traffic (where I was before, well, we didn't even have a four-way stop sign in town, and if there was a single car within sight on the highway, I was cursing about having to deal with jerks who don't know how to drive), I am so very pleased with the move, because:

1) my parents are here, and they're the most pitch-inny parents ever. They help with the kids, with the housework, with the shopping, with lugging heavy stuff, with reminding me to do important things (I'm a chronic forgetter). They offer to take the kids places like McDonalds or the mall. If I need someone to stay overnight with them, or pick them up from school because I'm delayed at work, well, all I need to do is phone. I have promised myself I will not abuse this privilege, but it's soooooo tempting. Plus, they love me and they're nice to me and they're the kind of parents you can actually talk to about stuff without feeling judged. Mom and dad, you are totally, totally blammo.

2) my sister is here. I don't see her as often as I see my parents, because she has her own blended family to take care of, but the two of us installed a new toilet in the downstairs bathroom the other day and it went perfectly. Go team! I'm renting a townhouse she owns, and she's letting me have it at a huge discount to help me out, because that's what sisters do. And it's just really nice to be able to hang with her and talk to her about...sister things. Sis, you're some serious awesome.

3) I'll get to see my other sister (and her awesome hubby and kids) more often. They live way the eff across the country, but they certainly come out here more often than they ever managed to make their way to the sopping, isolated reaches of Middleofnowhereland, BC. She's also totally blammo, IMO, but I expect she knows that, lol. Can't wait to see her!

4) Sunday family dinners. I often hear people bemoaning such obligations as the big weekly or monthly family get-together, and sure, my own family is far from perfect. But after 16 years away from "home", I now revel in the assorted kookiness (my uncle still asks me what I learned in school today when I walk in the door, heh) that is my extended family. In a couple of months, I hope to have my house sorted out enough to host a dinner of my own, yay!

5) my kids get to go to schools that offer things like actual computer graphics courses (with computers that run more recent versions of Windows than 98), IB programs, and advance placement. When they're done high school, they might even get to go to college, too, because there are several within public transit distance--had we stayed where we were, they'd have had to live on campus, which we'd never be able to afford.

6) there is fast food. One of my friends from back in Middleofnowhereland, BC told me once, "I would kill a thousand cows for one bucket of KFC," and well...yeah. But now I don't have to kill any cows, or drive two hours to get my fix of the Colonel's eleven herbs and spices, or the drugs he puts in it to make you "crave it fortnightly"*. I can just drive three minutes and I'm elbows-deep in a bucket of original recipe, yay! And if I have pizza delivered, it doesn't cost me the shirt on my back, either.

7) there is work. Oh, there is lots of it. And it's lucrative. Even when business is slow, I'm earning what I earned on a typical "good night" at my old job. When it's busy? Double that. Or triple it. And if, heaven forefend, I decide I don't like this job? There's another one just down the block.

8) there are big box stores. Walmart, Canadian Tire, Home Depot, Superstore, OMG Ikea. And freaking Costco. There are two Costcos I can shop at--one five minutes away from my home, and another just a few blocks from work. And malls with actual clothing stores, not just those crappy discount chains or the ubiquitous small town boutique where a pair of jeans will cost you your firstborn son.

9) dating options. In an isolated town of only 3000, well, the women hang onto their men because they know 99% of the local single guys of an appropriate age are likely gay (closeted or not), players, assholes, or weirdoes with more guns and dogs than teeth. Here, there are lots of single men, hence lots of women who think the grass is greener and ditch the good ones because they slurp their soup, or won't buy them a new flatscreen TV, or don't earn $100k/year or whatever. And yeah, I'm sure there are plenty of closeted gays, assholes, players and weirdoes, but hey, at least the pool is bigger.

10) I get to wear sunglasses. In fact, I have to wear sunglasses, because there is this thing in the sky (maybe you've heard of it? It's big and yellow and I've been told not to look directly at it) and it comes out more than every 15 days or so. Even in the winter!

11) no provincial sales tax (or more recently, the dreaded and much-maligned "BC Harmonized Sales Tax"). This makes everything from gas to shoes to light bulbs cheaper than they are where I used to live. And the fact that I'm now in an urban area instead of way the heck in the sticks, well, I didn't quite realize how much more we paid for things like milk and bread just because we lived so far from anywhere big. My grocery bills will likely be $2-300/month less just because of the move.

12) competition. From gas stations to cable/phone/internet providors to food stores to restaurants to schools, there are no monopolies here. That means better service for less money in almost every instance.

Yeah, it was hard saying goodbye to my friends (because they're some of the best people ever), and I was even saddened at the thought of never going back to sling chow mein at my old job (as thankless and frustrating as it often was). There were things about living in a small town that I absolutely adored. But I'm still so freaking happy with this move, and the kids seem to be settling in fine. There are things they miss about their old home, but there are things they love about where we are now, too, and the adjustment has gone even smoother than I could have hoped.

I just long for the day when the novelty of the escalator at the mall eventually wears off. I feel kind of like a tool taking Blammo up and down that thing several times just for fun whenever we go, even if I secretly find it kind of fun myself...

*from "So I Married an Axe Murderer", and still one of my favorite lines from any Mike Meyers movie. It's funny because it's true.

been a crazy couple of weeks...

2010-05-02T08:19:00.001-07:00

My life, it has been a little....squirrely for the last bit, hence I haven't been around much. But lo and behold, the Purolator lady came with another box of books for me--for my May print release and sole foray into hot guy on guy on girl action, The Chancellor's Bride. I'd post a pic like usual, but I can't find my camera. At the moment, I can't put my hands on my toothbrush. I THINK I might know where it is, but we'll see...

Anyhow, if any of you would like to leave a comment here, I'll have my 7 y/o random number generator, Blammo, choose one lucky person to win a free copy.

And if you can come up with any suggestions as to where I might find my toothbrush (I've already looked in the deep freezer, heh), I'd be much obliged. And if you lead me to that elusive instrument of dental hygiene, you get a free copy, too!

Two bedrooms (sort of) down....

2010-04-05T17:35:00.001-07:00

Wahoo! The master bedroom is finished. And I mean finished--not one more thing left to do in there. Despite some difficulty getting the queen boxspring upstairs (we had to take it outside, around back of the house, and haul it up onto the balcony and in through the balcony doors because our inside stairway has an inconvenient bend in it, grr...), the bed's now in there, plus two nice antiquey dressers, an old steamer trunk of my grandmother's for a night table, and a lovely bench for the foot of the bed. Blammo will bunk with me on a little mat on the floor until we move, and when it's time to show the house his blankets will go in my bench, and the mat will go in the closet.

Other than a handful of pink stains that won't go away, the carpet looks nice. It didn't smell too great in there at first--after sitting wet for a week, well, there was a swamp-like redolence even after it had mostly dried--but I bought some baking soda carpet stuff and it stinks real pretty now (overpowering wildflowers, oy, but better than the reek of a bog in early spring).

The downstairs bedroom ceiling is now repaired. We'd been suffering from drippy ceiling-butthole syndrome from a leak in the tub drain upstairs, and I had to cut a piece out so the plumber could work. I managed to apply spackle in roughly the same pattern as the godawful popcorn on the rest of the ceiling, and now we just need to paint it all. The walls are done, the furniture's in, and I've even stuck a stereo in there so it looks like a typical teenager's room (only without any posters of Megan Fox or Marilyn Manson or whoever, because the kid who puts even one hole in any of these walls is the kid who will find himself gruesomely murdered by multiple thumbtack stab-wounds and then buried under the astilbes in the yard).

The hole in my daughter's bedroom wall is now mostly fixed (one more pass with sandpaper and drywall compound and no one will ever suspect that the plumber broke half the pipes while trying to replace the tub faucet), and tomorrow we start sanding and priming over the big, colorful flowers she and I painted on her walls a few years back.

In addition, my mom spent much of today weeding my mess of a garden. Due to the lack of an actual "winter" here, the weeds grow year-round, and every spring you have to break the land from a wilderness state like a bloody pilgrim. She got maybe half of the job done during the five hours of sun we had this morning and early afternoon (we're back to rain again now, and for the next week, according to the Weather Channel).

Dad drove out onto a logging road to dump the yard waste (not the bags, though, of course), and tomorrow we'll borrow my friend's truck to haul all the recycling and old carpet and broken hoses and crappy old furniture and dry garbage that was cluttering up the carport to the dump/recycling depot.

Next on the agenda: finding curtain tracks for the closets (I'm not spending a fortune on doors for the kids' closets), and then hemming the $6 queen size sheets I bought into curtains for them. I also have to call the local guy who owns the little baby back-hoe that will fit through my gate, so he can deal with the drainage problem in the backyard, and send my papers into the nearest EI branch so they can start processing my claim.

Oh, and call my lawyer to find out what the eff is going on with the clusterfuck that is my divorce negotiation. Busy busy busy...

Augh!!!!

2010-03-31T10:25:00.001-07:00

Okay, for someone who thought she'd removed one of the stressful things in her life (I've taken a doctor-recommended leave from my day job--my last day was Sunday), today is shaping up to be one of those days where my head goes all explodey and showers bits of skull and brain matter all over the place.

I made an appointment for a pro carpet cleaner to come do these hideous carpets this morning. Last night, Firstborn and I lugged all the dressers, desks and assorted stuff out of the upstairs bedrooms, and this morning I finished up by removing my daughter's bed. All this stuff (more furniture than should reasonably even be in two bedrooms, really) is now piled in the middle of my living room, (and kitchen and dining room), which is also full of assorted toys (legos and bionicles everywhere, OMG). It's quarter past ten and I'm wondering where the guy is, so I phone. He's fucking sick in bed. Can't even get up. But couldn't call last night to let me know he was really sick and had to cancel, apparently. Aughhhhh!!!!!

There is no other pro carpet cleaning outfit in town, and the people in the next town aren't answering their phone. "We're probably out cleaning someone's carpet" the message says.

To add insult to injury, my parents arrive tonight. Yes, tonight. And Firstborn has been sleeping on the sofabed downstairs (where my parents sleep when they visit), and Blammo has been sleeping on the couch in the living room. The couch is now buried under a mound of bedroom stuff, and the boys' beds are stacked in the family room, which leaves no floorspace for "camping out" there and so basically, there's only two usable beds in the house--the sofabed and my bed. And two extra people looking to sleep here tonight.

I suppose I could leave a message at the other place, but I have a feeling I'll be waiting all day to hear back, only to be told no, they can't come out. So now I'm stuck renting a Rug Doctor and hoping beyond hope that it works 100x better than the home-model Bissell my friend loaned me.

I swear, I could kill something right now. Like, kill, kill, kill.

On top of that, my ex's lawyer has missed yet another deadline (Monday), and MY lawyer, courteous, non-litigious guy that he is, is going to phone his office to double-check that no response is forthcoming before he sets a date for a case conference. Dude, am I going to be married to this guy forever, or what?

I think I need a drink. It's gotta be past noon somewhere in the world, right? I mean, screw the whole 5 o'clock saying--as long as it's afternoon, it's fine, right? Right?

ETA: Okay, so I rented a Rug Doctor, and yeah, they're a LOT better than the home-model I was using. Way more suction, and the brushes? Holy cow, you can hardly hold onto the thing, those babies are shaking so hard. I'm 1/3 of the way done the big, huge room, and it looks good so far, and the carpet doesn't go "squoosh" when I walk on it, either. So I'm hoping that the blammo suction that's pulled all that moisture out, well, maybe it's pulling more crap out too, and I won't end up with ugly brown patches as it dries. I may go over it twice, just to be sure. Oh, and it might even be dry enough to put some of the stuff back by tomorrow.

AND, I had some bacon-wrapped chestnuts (my toaster still works since the power surge, it just doesn't get quite as hot as it did), and I'm having a glass of wine, too. Just a little one.

AND my mom phoned to say they'll be here early--like dinner time--and did I want her to get me a bucket of KFC on the way up? Holy hell, yeah! Nice, salty, greasy, KFC smothered in a gallon of KFC gravy? And that way, dinner's taken care of too! So I'm feeling better. Yay!

ETA II: So I'm 2/3 done the big room, and the brushes stop brushing. Ack! I felt the top of the machine, and it's really hot, so maybe it just needs a rest? I hope? If not, I'll have to return it and get another one. Bluh.

you know you should shampoo your carpets more often when...

2010-03-23T16:24:00.000-07:00

...it's the fourth pass on the "heavy traffic" setting and the waste water you're pouring down the drain is still dark brown sludge. Bluh.

I borrowed my friend's Bissel to do the former boys' bedroom, which is really the master bedroom, and I'm absolutely amazed (and revolted) at how much crud can build up in a carpet in a kid's bedroom, even when you vacuum fairly regularly. The more I think about it, the more disgusting wall to wall carpet seems to me. I suppose it might get cleaner faster if I was using some harsh, heavy duty, stinky chemical solution, but I went with an all-natural product because I don't need to spend the next few weeks in a VOC-induced stupor, thanks.

Thanking my lucky stars the carpet is a glue-down--no underlay to collect mud during the shampooing process, only to reimpregnate the carpet with filth as the fibers dry and wick the dirty moisture up. Before I installed laminate in the living room, I made the mistake of shampooing the carpet before my inlaws came to visit. There was one patch I went to town on every day for over a week--kept looking clean, then ten minutes later I'd turn around and holy crap, the dirt's back. I eventually gave up, and had to deal with having them judge my housekeeping skills by the ugly brown stain on the floor in front of the sofa.

If, when I move, there is any amount of wall to wall in my new place, I'm totally investing in a steam cleaner. I'll do the whole floor every month or two, just to not have to look at the filth in the waste reservoir.

On the bright side, with the exception of two small stains (from strawberry-flavored fruit roll-ups, I think), the spots are coming out. I pre-treated them with a spot remover--Folex--which comes in a very lacklustre spray bottle that was virtually invisible next to all the TV-familiar brands on the shelf. But reading the label--no petro-chemicals, no VOCs, no obnoxious scents--won me over. And it worked really well. Smells like...well, like nothing, which is good for someone with chemical sensitivities.

And if you all are as grossed out as I am by the thought of kids playing legos on a floor completely saturated with filth, all I gotta say is moderately unsanitary conditions build healthy immune systems. My kids? Their immune systems must be super-human--but then I figured as much when the Swine Flu visited our house and didn't even cramp their styles. My coworker, who practically lives in rubber gloves and bleaches her whole house weekly? She and her kids were down for three weeks.

Yup, it's Sophistry, but it works for me.

what the...

2010-03-22T10:18:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I just brushed my hideously shedding dog, and the pile of hair I got was bigger than the dog. And yet she still has hair on her body. In fact, she looks no smaller and no less fluffy than she did before I brushed her. WTF? How is this possible?

In other news, due to two power surges yesterday, my toaster oven is...uh, toast. Wonder if I can find an el-cheapo one at the local bargain store? If not, that's the end of my bacon-wrapped chestnut addiction for a while. But at least the fridge (my beautiful new fridge, OMG), which issued some seriously disgruntled noises when the lights flickered, seems to have recovered and is chugging along nicely.

In other other news, next Sunday is my last night of work at the local Chinese joint--doctor's orders. And strangely enough, a lot of old, favorite customers, some of whom hadn't been in in over a year, came in to eat last night. It was like revisiting my past or something. Surreal, and kind of sad, but at least with one less thing to angst and stress and obsess about, I won't end up committed anytime soon. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully... Heh.

I've been plodding along on the upgrades to the house, while at the same time trying to tame the heinous mess my kids leave in their wake--which is all the more heinous because it's migrated from the bedrooms I'm working on right into the middle of my living room.

Oh, and I posted a new story on my website. It's been on my hard drive for a few months, but I was feeling lazy and unmotivated and signing into my webhost is just SUCH a bother, lol. Standard disclaimer applies: it's dirty (like you all didn't already know that). And Mom? Don't look.

argh...

2010-03-18T19:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, the little, teeny-tiny cracks forming in the paint on my bedroom walls? Well, they were everywhere, scattered patches of little hairline cracks all over the place. So I tried touching them up, and nope. Still there. Shitty, crappy, cheap builder's paint--three damn coats to cover the blue in the room, and then it's all for nothing anyway.

So today I went and bought a 5 gallon bucket of Sico paint (hang the expense), tinted to a really nice buff off-white. I primed over the worst patches, and then threw one coat of the new stuff on and yay! Looks damn fine. Just one more wall to do tomorrow, and then I can shampoo the carpet and start moving my furniture in there (it's the master, but Firstborn and Blammo were sharing it). Then, while there's no furniture in the downstairs bedroom, I'll patch the ceiling, paint that sucker, and then finish the walls.

I'm going to grab one of my daughter's dressers to put in the master bedroom, move her computer and desk downstairs, and then I'll have enough free space to paint in her room too. Then the stairwell, kitchen, living room and bathroom (including the bathroom ceiling).

Then I have closet doors to install, baseboards to nail in, tiles to grout, light fixtures to change, laminate flooring to trim out, toilet seats to replace...

Oy. Every time I think I'm almost done, I realize how much I have left to do. Bloody hell.

And I haven't even begun to think about dealing with the yard--which is in an advanced state of "naturalization" and if something isn't done about the drainage problem soon the government will declare it a protected bogland and I'll be screwed. Where's a big strong man with a back-hoe when you need him?

Think I'll leave the gardening to my mom when she comes. She lurrrrrves weeding. Really, she does. It gives her the warm fuzzies. Fresh air and sunshine and back to nature and all that. Honest. And ever since she moved into a condo, she hasn't been able to slake her demented garden-lust. So I'm doing her a favor, really, when you think about it.

And I think my dad has been jonesing to try out that power washer he bought me a couple years ago. 3000 psi? Subaru engine? A nozzle that can cut through solid granite? Boo-yah! Gotta keep an eye on him, though, or he'll start taking pot-shots at passing teenagers just for giggles. Not that I'd mind...dang whippersnappers always throwing their Slushie cups and Red Bull cans on my lawn.

Yup. Busy as heck and stressed out of my mind, but at least I'm accomplishing things. I'll post pictures as the rooms get done, just so you all can see how awesome I am.

Getting busy...

2010-03-16T09:17:00.000-07:00

Not writing, so much, though I have been trying to find an hour or two every day to devote to finishing my many stalled WIPs. We'll see how that works out, heh. My editor hasn't heard from me in so long, she's probably gone through all seven stages of loss and accepted I'm gone for good. I can imagine seeing something from me in her inbox at this point would be as likely to induce severe myocardial infarction as pleasant surprise.

Mostly I've been trying to get my house in order--cleaning, washing walls, patching drywall, painting, getting the plumbing sorted out (the guys who built this place were clearly stoned, and according to my plumber, not overly concerned with legalities, either), getting ready to fork over some serious cash to deal with the drainage problems in the backyard, and summoning the will to trim out my laminate floor and grout my tiles.

In a week or two when the weather turns, I'll call my parents (otherwise known as the Fifth Elite Domestic Viking Brigade) in to help me haul a shit-ton of stuff to the dump and thrift store, get the lawn, flower beds and rock walls looking nice, and help my kids prioritize their belongings into two piles: 1) can't bear to part with this, and 2) pitch that shit in the dumpster.

Then it's time to stage the place and hopefully unload it before BC's Harmonized Sales Tax (11% on house sales and realtor commissions? yikes!) and new mortgage regulations for first time buyers (possible 20% down payment? double yikes!) get together in an orgy of fiduciary devastation and send property values plummeting.

So no, I won't be around the internets much, either here or elsewhere. Not that that isn't much of a change from the status quo, mind you. It's just that instead of moping, obsessing and contemplating the gruesome demise of the men in my life (except for my plumber, who has proved himself both useful and not a turd-ass), I'll be actually doing something constructive.

And if any of you all know how to slap paint on a wall or use a nail-set, you're welcome to come over and help me out. I have beer and sandwiches. :)

I am NOT in the mood...

2010-02-14T14:27:00.000-08:00

CAUTION! Downer post ahead:

Ever read in the news about that family whose house burned down Christmas Eve, three days after someone broke in and stole all their kids' presents?

Ever hear about the guy who won millions in the lottery only to have his wife leave him and a con artist filch him for every penny two months before he dies of terminal cancer?

Ever imagine the sound of a phone ringing on death row delivering a pardon from the governor, two minutes after the executioner pushed the plunger?

Ever see that episode of King of the Hill, where Peggy leaps from the airplane yelling, "I feel so freakin' alive!" just before her chute malfunctions and she hits the ground at terminal velocity?

That's what this Valentine's Day feels like for me. And granted, it would feel like that even if it weren't Valentine's Day, but the irony of the day is almost enough to make me start writing depressing litfic about nice guys who finish last (or not at all), and villains who get cookies instead of comeuppances.

When I think about all the good deeds I've been depositing into my Karma account for the last year or more, and the steaming rain of shit I've received as a return on my investment, I can't help but wonder if maybe--just maybe--I've been prepaying the consequences for that one really, really, really bad thing I'll be able to do and get away with. And frankly, there's no shortage of ideas in my morbidly creative mind as to what that really bad thing will be, nor a shortage of candidates vying to be its recipient, heh.

I'm currently trying to write the prequel to The Chancellor's Bride, the story of Collin and Harral's first meeting. It's a story of one man placing all his trust in the hands of another, taking that huge leap and just knowing the man he loves won't let him plummet and end up a proverbial pancake on the sidewalk. And even as I write it, every fiber of my being is screaming, "Don't be an idiot! WTF, are you crazy??!! He is not going to catch you! You're setting yourself up for an ironic tragedy!" Which tells me I may not be in the right headspace to be working on this particular WIP, lol.

I'm pretty sure this feeling will go away eventually, but maybe I should concentrate my efforts on Lianon and Rhianna's story for now.

In the interim, I'll just say this: If you have a Y chromosome, I reserve the right to hate you for no reason. Not that I WILL hate you, I just reserve the right to. So be warned.

And because I don't begrudge others the joy they find on this day or any other, I'll give you all a heartfelt Happy Valentine's Day. I really do mean it. Unless you have a Y chromosome...

Blue collar guys...

2010-02-11T09:24:00.001-08:00

Don't know where this post came from, but it's something I've been pondering of late as I do my best to hurl myself back into the sexual marketplace.

I don't know about you all, but there's just something about a blue collar guy that turns me on. Say what you want about a well-groomed man in a Hugo Boss suit and expensive shoes--for me, there's nothing sexier than a man with a little dirt under his nails, a man with forearms defined by weilding nailguns, screwdrivers, sawzalls, wrenches, a man who knows how to assemble a carburetor or fiddle with a timing chain, rewire a house, solder a copper pipe or fit the perfect mortise and tenon.

Maybe it derives from my youthful days as designated coffee-fetcher and flashlight-holder for my heavy-duty mechanic dad as he worked on the cars? Mechanic by trade, he was handy in myriad ways. I remember him finishing our basement from bare concrete and naked ceiling beams--he did all the plumbing, wiring, carpentry and tiling himself (with a little "help" from us kids), and I'll admit I picked up a certain flair for creative profanity from him as I got older and he guarded his tongue less.

Maybe it comes from the occasional trip to pick him up at work with my mom--the teenaged me waiting in a lunchroom where every inch of wall and half the ceiling was plastered with posters of naked women, indelibly associating sex with the smells of diesel fuel and motor oil in my already half-way bent mind.

Maybe it's because a man who's good with his hands when it comes to laying tile or installing a bathtub faucet or cutting the perfect dovetail joint makes me think he'll be good with his hands when it comes to...other things? Maybe the roughness of sweat and physical work translates into visions of roughness and sweat in other contexts in my subconscious?

Whatever the reason, seeing a man with a streak of black on his forehead, a dozen little cuts and scars on his hands, grime permanently imprinted into the whorls on the pads of his fingers, and flecks of paint or silicone caulk on his t-shirt just...does it for me. Holy hell, does it ever.

A blue collar guy doesn't need the body of an Adonis to impress me (although the ubiquitous plumber butt-crack is maybe not the hottest thing ever, heh), he doesn't need a face like David Boreanaz or Clive Owen or Brad Pitt. All he needs is to be reasonably attractive and have the ability to take something that's broken and fix it, or take something that's nothing but a pile of raw materials and build it, and I'm drooling. Drooling, I tell you.

How about you guys? Any of you ever get the hots for your mechanic, or want to jump the bones of the guy who came to install kitchen cabinets?

The sky is not falling...

2010-02-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

...or is it?

With all the general panic about Macmillan moving to an agency model for book sales, I thought I'd toss my two cents into the debate.

Go. Read. Feel better. Or don't, I guess, if you're convinced I'm full of hooey.

I resolve...

2009-12-31T22:41:00.000-08:00

Well, it's that night. And to paraphrase Queen Elizabeth's sentiments on the year Windsor Castle burned, 2009 is not a year I will look back upon with fondness. To put it bluntly, it rather stunk up the place. But all the crap I've been dealing with for the last year is soon to be done with. There are good things ahead for me and my family, and I plan on making the most of them by resolving:

To never again settle for less than I deserve.

To try to provide the best possible future for my kids.

To write more and angst less.

To not give a shit about what someone thinks of me unless they've shown me why I should care.

To play more.

To procrastinate less.

To reach for the things I want.

For all of you, if you had a great 2009, I hope 2010 is even better. And if your 2009 smelled like something a trucker left in the gas station bathroom after an all you can eat taco buffet like mine did, well, things can only get better right?

Right? Hellllloo.... Anyone? I'm right, aren't I? *ahem*

I got everything I wanted!

2009-12-25T12:22:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I didn't want much, but well, that's the way I roll. Call me what you will--minimalist, frugal, a cheap date--it just doesn't take a whole lot to make me happy. Some time off work, the love of friends and family, the sight of three kids exhausted from an unbridled orgy of unwrapping, the smell of a turkey roasting, a few pairs of jeans with an inseam that won't leave me looking like I'm waiting for a flood....

Okay, so I really wanted complete peace in my house for 24 hours and didn't get it. What parent of more than one child does? And so I really wished I could be with all the people I love more than anything. What child of wonderful parents doesn't? But all in all, a good Christmas morning, with prospects for a great Christmas night. Hell, even the dog is in the spirit--I cooked a prime rib a couple nights ago, and she's gnawing on a meaty bone as I write this. The kids are up to their armpits in loot, and I'm two ounces into my first glass of wine of the day. My friend and her little boy and his daddy are due to arrive in just a few hours, and we all plan to gorge ourselves on the traditional seasonal victuals.

The stress of a couple days ago? Gone. This doesn't mean I got everything on my list done, mind you. But the deadline has come and gone, and I'm not about to sweat it anymore. It's freaking Christmas.

A merry one to you all! :)

Excuse me while I...

2009-12-23T08:06:00.001-08:00

...indulge in a much needed, quasi-public panic attack.

My ability to delude myself into believing Christmas was still days and days away, still plenty of time, don't sweat it, it will all get done? Well, it abandoned me at about 8:30 last night. I suppose it had to happen sometime. I mean, I may have some mad denial skillz, but time and Santa wait for no man (or dirty book writing procrastinator). And right now, the fat man's red-velvet covered butt is about to squash me but good.

Still to do:

Wrap about 40 presents. Separate the stocking stuffers into piles.

Purchase two more presents (OMG, how could I have thought I was actually DONE?)

Buy a turkey with my IGA Turkey Bucks, plus potatoes, a loaf of good bread, veggies

Dig up my cattle prod and make my kids clean and toddler-proof the family room so my friend's half-demon hellspawn will be unable to blow up the house Christmas Day

Locate my HazMat suit and clean the upstairs bathroom

Work my last shift until the New Year

Get bank stuff in the mail to my lawyer

Bake a couple loaves of Christmas bread (optional, but if I don't, boy will my best friend be annoyed when she shows up with my bottle of homemade Irish cream and I have nothing to give her)

Swallow half a bottle of Tylenol with codeine so my head doesn't go all explody

Find SOMEPLACE in my cluttered little house to stow 60 bottles of wine

Drink 30 bottles of wine to make room

Yup. There are benefits to being a last minute kind of person, but right now I'm having a hard time remembering what they are. Still, it wouldn't be the holidays if I wasn't curled up into a ball in the corner, shivering and sweating and screaming "I want my mom!" and praying for it to just be over. I hope when the men in white coats come for me, they'll be gentle. It is the holidays, after all, and we could all use a little good will this time of year...

Winnah, winnah, chicken dinnah!

2009-12-21T18:07:00.000-08:00

Actually, we're having pork roast tonight, but whatever.

I asked my random number generator--otherwise known as Blammo, my third-born--to pick a number between 1 and 7. Fully embracing the role, he beeped, rattled, hummed, started emitting smoke, and then hollered "5!"

Which means flchen1, you get a platter of bland, rubbery veal, served up inside the thrilling plot of my first published book, Crossing Swords. I have your email, and will send ASAP (as soon as plausible, which means tonight, if I don't have a maternal lobotomy moment). Congratulations!

Contest at the Cafe!

2009-12-17T13:44:00.001-08:00

I'm doing an impromptu contest over at Samhaincafe today, but any of you regular readers want to enter, go ahead and leave a comment here. Winner gets a digital copy of their choice of one of my four Samhain books. :)

ETA: Contest open until Sunday, 8:00 pm Pacific.

AWOL

2009-12-03T21:37:00.000-08:00

Okay, just a small update for you all. I've been kind of incommunicado these days. I have a shit-ton of stuff to deal with, most of it less than pleasant, and haven't had the energy or the right mind-set for writing or blogging or even having long, convoluted email conversations with my online friends.

But, never fear. None of this is anything that a battalion of family law attorneys, a couple cases of beer judiciously applied and some primal scream therapy can't fix.

On the bright side--just so I don't close on a down note--I got my hair cut and it looks totally blammo. :P

Holding Pattern

2009-11-10T22:07:00.000-08:00

Yup, that's my life these days. I'm...not in a funk, precisely, but I am feeling very introspective these days. I have a birthday coming up on Saturday (39--OMG, I'm staring down the gaping maw of 40, holy hell), I'm trying not very successfully to wrangle my ex to sit down with me and negotiate our divorce, Christmas and New Year's is coming, so it's kind of a weird time. A time for navel-gazing and figuring things out--what I want for me and the kids, how to get there, all that crap.

Of course, that means I haven't been around much at all--not in any of my usual haunts on these here intertubes. I have been lurking a bit, but not posting much at all. Haven't been doing much at all in the real world either (other than surviving 10 days of my kids having swine flu and various personal irritations like postage mix-ups and fixing scratches in my laminate flooring with a brown pencil crayon and stuff).

In other news, my van is making a horrible noise that three mechanics have told me is likely the flex plate for the torque convertor. For all of you mechanically uninclined folks, that most likely means a $100 part and $800 labor. In other words, they have to pull either the engine or the transmission to replace one little part. But one of the delights of living in a small, close-knit community is that people don't like to see people like me get the shaft. An acquaintance has offered to do the work for free, because I'm a single mom and he knows my finances are tight. So I'm going to bake him a couple of authentic Danish Kringles and dedicate a story to him, and talk him up to everyone in town. I think I almost cried when he offered to do it, and it just makes me feel so good to be living in a place like this.

In other other news, my buddy's trailer is being repoed. Not the bad news you might assume. She doesn't own it anymore but her name can't be removed from the mortgage, so a repo means she can start rebuilding her credit that much sooner. On top of that, as a thank you to me for all the help I've given her in her recent troubles, she gave me her kitchen appliances. We swapped out my 30 year old fridge and stove for her 5 year old ones (and OMG, her oven is a conventional/convection combo--and it's self-cleaning!), and for the first time in my entire life I have a dishwasher. I put it through its inaugural run tonight, and I am so freaking stoked. The Saell family rockets into the 1970s! Yay!

On the not so bright side, my muse is silent. I have three WIPs on the go and none of them are calling me. I was thinking of doing a short erotica piece to get my groove back, so we'll see. I need to write something to dedicate to my philanthropic mechanic. :)

Okay, when I disappear, I really disappear

2009-10-28T16:41:00.000-07:00

Yes, it has been a while. More than two weeks, in fact, since I last blogged.

Can't say I even have a good excuse. I've been putzing around the net, lurking but not commenting, ignoring my writing, not doing much housework, just generally being a bum. I think it's likely the weather getting to me as it always does when the days finally start getting dark and short.

In addition, H1N1 has hit my house. My oldest came down with a fever, aches, joint stiffness and a cough on Wednesday, my daughter--always prone to extreme gastrointestinal distress--started bazooka barfing on Saturday morning, and Blammo got me up at 4 Monday morning with vomiting and headache. He had a nasty, phlegmy cough that made him sound like Tom Waits, a fever of 102 and a stuffy nose when we got up this morning. I took the day off work so I can keep a close eye on him. Unfortunately, whenever I give him enough Tylenol to bring his fever down and dampen the headache, he stops acting sick and starts acting like a regular, hyper kid who's cooped up indoors. Oy.

So far I have not succumbed, but usually once Blammo gets something, I'm next. I'll update in a day or two to let you know.

Good news is, it seems to be mild in all three cases. Firstborn was back to school yesterday--he still had a bit of a gucky throat, but wasn't even coughing anymore. Daughter is perfectly functional, but still symptomatic enough that I'll keep her home one more day. And Blammo is possibly the least miserable sick kid in the universe. No lying around and moaning for him. A shame, really. There's nothing like a mean virus to take the edge off a kid.

I am hoping to buckle down and get some real work done soon. I've just been...sorting out some stuff in my head, and I think I've mostly figured it out. Word meters should be maxing out fairly soon.

I know, famous last words... :P

Excerpt Monday

2009-10-12T01:06:00.001-07:00

It's that time again. This month, I dredged up something from under the proverbial bed, the prologue of a novel I started years ago. The story is set in the same world as Crossing Swords--but about 300 years before the events in my published books.

I plan on dusting the cobwebs off of this one fairly soon and giving it the attention it deserves. The story deserves to be told. If only there were more hours in the day...

So, it's been a while...

2009-10-03T12:07:00.000-07:00

...and just so you all can stop worrying, yes, I'm still alive.

I've been in a bit of a holding pattern the last few weeks. School's started, but I'm not back in my groove yet. I managed to bang out about a thousand words on The Mermaid's Curse yesterday (celebrate the little victories, heh), but my house is still a mess. My grass is not cut. My filing is still waiting to be done.

Mostly, I've been indulging my internet addiction. Not blogging so much myself (although I did a couple posts on LVLM if you want to take a look), just misbehaving in other people's houses as it were. My one comfort in that is that the addiction cycles on and off, so I know it won't last much longer. And part of me is happy to just do nothing. After the summer I had, I need to recharge. Just...have some time without anyone needing anything from me. My poor kids. Their mother is running on empty. I'm just glad they're mostly self-sufficient--as long as I keep them in Froot Loops, Mini Wheats, oranges, grapes, frozen pizzas, a couple home-cooked meals a week, and they can find a clean pair of pants in the mountain of unfolded laundry in my room, they're okay.

I've also been sick with the plague for the last several days and took three shifts off work (two of those were extra, so it's not so big a loss, really), and the time alone was...beautiful. I got hardly anything done and don't feel guilty at all.

In other news, my youngest, Blammo, has taken a bizarre interest in vegetables, and has developed the ability to belch on command. Daughter is almost taller than I am and can no longer borrow my shoes because her feet are bigger than mine (which means she'll likely grow up to be an Amazon). Firstborn has apparently discovered an attraction to the opposite sex. I know this because he now showers every day without being asked, asked me to get him some whitening toothpaste, and has started scrubbing his acne. I'm worried.

In other, other news, I received galleys for Chancellor's Bride the other day. It's due out in print in May, yay! Unfortunately, I have nothing to put under the "Coming Soon" heading at the front of the book. :( Which means I really need to get working on my...stuff. Soon.

If any of you all have a whip handy, feel free to ply it. I can take it.

That's it.

people are weird....

2009-09-17T12:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I stuck a tracker on my website about a month ago, and now I can indulge my inner voyeur without getting myself arrested. This has, however, introduced me to a whole new world of bizarre and questionable Google search terms and the (I would expect) bizarre and questionable people behind them.

Most are pretty reasonable and applicable:

touching inside panties soaking

girls derty nickers with damp patch in [not mom-safe]

in side my knickers (not sure how these two hit my site, since I don't think I've ever used "knickers" in my fiction...)

steel between her legs

sitting across the office she parted her legs and showed me her [ahem] (have to credit this one--a complete sentence and every word spelled correctly)

he lightly touched her [ahem] with his tongue (again, astonishingly literate)

[coughcough] me through my panties

tear my pant with your teeth

romance thrust breasts hands (bwahaha! Why bother with filler words, let's cut to the chase, shall we?)

But other search terms give me mental images that I will never be able to scrub away, such as:

smell mom panties (oh, ewww)

.....or the one that made my eyebrows hit my hairline:

snake in my [place where no self-respecting snake would willingly go] (do I really need to comment further?)

So what do these people do when they get to my website? An astonishing number of them, even the aforementioned snake fetishist, spend between 20 minutes and a couple hours poking around, reading my free samples and looking at my bio.

Now, I've read some interesting books and seen some cool shows based on people who can read others' thoughts, and as a kid, I always figured it would be cool to have that ability. But looking at those last two search terms, I'm thinking I probably don't really want to know what's going on in people's heads. All things considered, I might just stop looking at my tracker and invest in a telescope and see what kind of normal, everyday shenanigans the people across the street get up to...

Excerpt Monday!

2009-09-14T00:03:00.000-07:00

It's Excerpt Monday again, and I'm posting the first chapter of the f/f/m fairy tale menage I was insane enough to start writing last week. It's based on The Little Mermaid, but has a few twists. First, the merpeople are pretty much a bunch of elitist jerks. Second, the Sea Witch isn't evil, just...justifiably bitchy. Third, she wants in on the HEA.

Go ahead and read if you dare. :D

Another review for Chancellor's Bride

2009-09-12T11:25:00.000-07:00

BookUtopiaMom just gave The Chancellor's Bride 7 1/2 stars out of 10 over at Uniquely Pleasurable. Here's a snippet:

"Right away, the sensuality of the prose in this novel grabs the reader by the lapels and refuses to let go.....The brief prologue immerses you in both erotic and intelligent imagery, establishing a high standard for the rest of the story to meet. It continues in that vein throughout the novel, and in actuality, is probably one of its strongest assets. Even when I had questions and doubts about motivations, I could always rely on the author’s voice to compensate for it."

This is a bit of a mixed review, the kind that's extremely helpful to me, pointing out a lack of clarity regarding one character's motivations that I know has bothered a few other readers.

Just shows me that while I am certain that my characters' motivations and conflicts make sense, I need to work a little harder to convey those things to the reader, who is less well-acquainted with my world and its denizens than I am. And that I shouldn't rely so heavily on my voice to carry the reader past those points of doubt or confusion.

But I'm absolutely jazzed that despite the stated flaws, she still found it a "lush, seductive read", and would give other books by me a go. Now I just have to try to finish Collin and Harral's prequel (which will be short, I hope, though I know myself well enough to not promise that), or get another m/m(/f) to start calling to me. Because I did absolutely love writing this one.

:)

Just needed to say...

2009-09-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

...something I don't say often enough, but that I think about lot, and never more so than the last couple of months.

Mom? Dad? Thanks.

Thanks for being you guys and not someone else. Thanks for raising me right, for teaching me that people matter more than money, that what you do is more important than what other people think of you. Thanks for showing me what it is to own your mistakes, to have the balls to admit when those mistakes have fucked things up for other people, and to have the decency to try to correct them when you can.

Thanks for being there when I need you, no matter how stupid I've been. Thanks for helping me clean up my shit, even when I have no one but myself to blame for the mess. Thanks for helping me be a better parent to my kids, and a better friend to those who are important to me. Thanks for listening to me bitch, and for telling me to shut up when I've bitched long enough.

Thanks for teaching me that having a clean house is less important than having happy children. Thanks for teaching me that I don't have to put up with anybody's crap, and I shouldn't make other people put up with mine. Thanks for showing me that being happy is more important than having money, but that there ain't nothing wrong with having a little money, either.

Thanks for being an anchor in my life, for encouraging me to be independent enough to stand on my own, but unafraid to ask for help when I need it. Thanks for being proud of me, even though I didn't become a doctor or a lawyer or an architect or a computer programmer because I'd rather write smut and sling hash for a living.

I don't know if I will ever be able to express how lucky I feel to have you guys as parents. All I can say is thanks.

Just thanks.

I haz a dumb

2009-09-07T02:19:00.001-07:00

Yes, I am stupid. Why, you ask (or not, as the case may be, since I may only be confirming what you already suspected)?

Because I started a new project.

Yes, with two projects already on the go, screaming to be finished and submitted to two separate editors at two separate publishers, I started a new one. If any of you are feeling the urge to dish out a good, sound spanking, now would be the time.

Of course, it's not my fault.

I blame Laurie M. Rauch, Samhain's new exec editor. She's the one who posted the open call for fairy tale-themed hot romance. She's the one who got me thinking about that most Scandinavian of fairy tales, The Little Mermaid. She's the one who put the idea of fairy tale, mermaid menage in my head. And now that dang sea witch will not leave me alone! She wants to tell her side of the story, and she wants in on the HEA, too.

I'm aiming this for Samhain's Red Hot Fairy Tale antho, but if it doesn't make the cut, I'll be subbing it elsewhere or posting it as a free read on my site. I've been writing for one day and I'm already 3600 words in.

This will be a short project--25k or less. We'll see how well I stick to that.

Hugs.

Winnahz!!

2009-09-05T22:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've been trying to hold out for more entries (which, as it happens, allows me to indulge my own laziness, which is one of those indulgences I hate to deny myself), but methinks it's time to announce the winners of the two contests I've been ignoring for the last month or more.

Sigh. I am so bad.

So without further ado, the winner of my Bound by Steel poetry contest is:

M.A.

and, because I only had two entries, and I couldn't decide which I liked more,

Tarsilla gets one too!

And the winner of my Chancellor's Bride cheesy pick-up line contest is:

jenniferleeland

for her stunningly succinct entry, "Wanna fuck?"

As usual, if you could email me at kirstensaell(AT)yahoo(DOT)com with your info, I'll send your books as quickly as possible. Thanks for entering, and hope you enjoy them. And as always, feel free to let me know what you think, even if you think I suck rotten lemons or something. Feedback--even negative--is a good thing. :)

My sister told me to do it...

2009-08-31T23:30:00.000-07:00

...blog, that is.

Being that we live on opposite ends of the second largest country in the world, she stays caught up on all the goings on in my life by reading this here edifying and edumicational blog. Being that I am one of those sneaky, crafty types, I have a tracker on this thing and am proud to say she visits just about every day, and has lamented of late that I don't post enough.

Well guess what? My life, it is boring. So boring I can't even come up with a half-way amusing analogy for how very boring it is.

To prove my point, here's a list of some of the highlights of my day:

1) Went to pee and noticed, to my dismay and chagrin, that an hour in a haz-mat suit with a bucket of bleach was not quite equal to the pervasive smell of "small boy, bad aim" around the toilet. Made a mental note to spend another hour de-peeifying the upstairs bathroom.

2) Answered the door in my jim-jams with sleep-goongas still clinging to my eyelashes to tell the dad of the little girl who is in love with Blammo that she wasn't in my house and I had no idea where she was. A half hour later, still in a state of dishabille, answered door again and repeated said conversation.

3) Cattle-prodded Daughter into washing the first sinkful of dishes. Forgot to cattle-prod Firstborn into doing the rest. Jeez that boy knows how to avoid work...

4) Took Blammo out to buy school supplies and also got shystered into buying a Push-Pop, two Kit-Kat bars to share with the other kids, and a box of Fudgecicles. Managed not to cave in when he wanted a Dragon Webkinz pet. Considered changing his online moniker from "Blammo" to "Iwanna", but deemed it too girlie.

5) Went out to help the little girl who is in love with Blammo get down out of the maple tree in the churchyard across the street.

6) Made trouble online by wagging my opinions in people's faces. Take that!

7) Cooked steak for dinner. Then decided after a couple of bites that I didn't really feel like steak, so filled up on garlic toast and corn on the cob instead.

8) Told the ringing phone to eff off, then answered it anyway. Agreed to send the kids back to their dad's for another overnight visit tomorrow, yay!

9) Told the ringing phone to eff off, then answered it anyway. Told the survey-taker that I'm just the babysitter and therefore not old enough to do his stupid survey. Gave him a better time to call--when I know I won't be home, bwahahaha!

10) Opened the file for Vessel, read it from the beginning, was suitably impressed by my awesomeness but then crapped out on continuing. I'm not quite there yet. Tomorrow afternoon, I think, is soon enough to pick it back up again. Decided to go read some back issues of Dan Savage's sex advice column at Straight.com instead. *Holy crapping damn that dude is funny.

So there you go. An average day off for Kirsten Saell. I tell ya, it's a thrill a minute. For those of you still awake, I solemnly vow not to do another of these posts again. Sis, I think from now on I'll confine myself to posting about barfing kids, gushing scalp wounds, assorted vermin and other crises that make for more riveting reading. But never fear, the season of gigantic, hand-size spiders and Norwalk is almost upon us, so I'll soon have plenty to blog about. :)

*Mom, I don't think you'd appreciate Mr. Savage's sense of humor, or his sense of...anything, really, so don't look. Just don't.

Head on over!

2009-08-28T08:54:00.000-07:00

To Victoria Janssen's, where I'm guestblogging on writing f/f(/m) for a female readership. Don't forget to let me know if you think I'm all confused or full of hooey. :)

Guest blogging at Victoria J's

2009-08-27T16:16:00.001-07:00

Victoria Janssen, fellow girl-on-girl avenger and totally blammo author of Harlequin Spice books like this:

And THIS (OMG, holy crapping damn this cover is HOT!!!):

...has been kind enough to invite me to guest blog over in her neck of the woods. Topic du jour: Writing f/f and f/f/m for the female gaze--a subject very dear to me and one that doesn't get addressed enough. The post goes live tomorrow (Friday, August 28), and I hope you all will come by to check it out and share your thoughts on how you think authors get it right, and how you think they get it so very, very wrong.

In other news, I spent the day moving kitchen stuff and shopping with my friend, trying to get her properly set up in her new digs. And miracle of miracles, the ex phoned to say he'd like the kids this weekend. He's been working 12 hour shifts, 7 days a week for about a month, so they've seen him for all of one afternoon since my friend and her kid moved in here the last week of July.

So guess what? I have the whole house to myself for two whole days. I ought to be able to get everything clean that fell to chaos over the last five weeks, watch some porn, and have the time and privacy to drill that hole in my skull to let the pressure out. Now where did I put the masonary bits...?

Hugs. :)

Update, the second

2009-08-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

Well, my bud and her hellspaw--I mean, little boy--will be moving out. In a matter of days. I'd do a happy dance, but I'm too exhausted. Plus, I'm saving my strength to help her move, because despite my aversion to lugging heavy objects, I'm prepared to go that extra mile to get rid of h--I mean, help a friend in need.

This means that very soon my muse will rise from the ashes of stress and dirty dishes like some bloated, overweight Pheonix, glutted with scenes I've practically memorized but haven't had the time or a space of calm to put to paper.

This has happened before when things get stressful and busy here, and the ensuing episode of muse-barfing may not be pretty, but often proves to be hugely productive. Expect large jumps in my wordmeters.

In other news, the creepy crawlies of last week are gone. Unfortunately, an infestation of fruit flies has emerged to replace them. I've got a small bowl of rice wine vinegar on my kitchen counter, nearly black with their dead bodies. Also, a few larger ones impaled on bamboo skewers and displayed in prominent places as a warning to others. Too bad the little suckers are too dumb to choose another house to set up camp in, and opt instead to perish by the hundreds in my acrid, culinary pool of death. Die, arthropod scum, DIE!!

Ahh, the joys of summer.

In still more news, my royalty statement from July--which reflects a mere ten days of MBaM sales for The Chancellor's Bride--is almost three times the size of the largest of my previous statements, proving that two guys and a chick really do it for readers. I'll have to think more on this, and see if there are any more m/m/f stories lurking in the dark, evil recesses of my smutwriter's brain.

This does not mean, however, that I plan to abandon the hot girl-on-girl action anytime soon. Setting aside the dubious nature of metaphors that employ seafood and lady parts, I'd rather be a big fish in the small f/f pond than a small one in the vast guy-on-guy ocean. Money's nice, but it ain't everything.

Hugs. :)

All ur head are belong to us!!

2009-08-17T01:13:00.000-07:00

So the rotten little girl was at my house when I got home from work Friday night.

Not IN the house, mind you, because she's not allowed. But she was standing outside the downstairs window with a Gamecube controller, playing Smash Bros with my three kids. My buddy (who's living with me until the end of the month) wasn't aware my daughter and her "friend" were playing fast and loose with the letter of the law, but had been wondering why the dog was growling and barking the whole time I was gone (George used to belong to my bud when she lived three houses down from rotten little girl, who made a habit of taunting and harassing the poor thing--the dog absolutley detests her).

This girl is absolutely the worst kind of influence. At only 11 years old, she's already manipulative and sneaky, and her parents just do not keep track of her. She'll knock on your door at 7 AM on a Saturday, and not go home until after 11 at night--and they don't even worry. They don't wonder where she is or what she's doing, or even whether she's eaten. They once phoned at around midnight wondering if I might know where she was. They didn't seem distraught. The mother told me "Oh, I know she's probably just sleeping over at a friend's house." WTF?

And she has lice. Ugh. I have a friend who works at the elementary school. She told me she spent the whole school year having the girl and her sister shower at school (they don't at home), and trying in vain to get rid of the damn things. But without the cooperation of the parents, it's a losing battle. And it's now been six weeks of summer vacation. Six weeks since the last treatment. I can only imagine the level of infestation at this point.

And guess who now has the little bastards crawling around in their hair? My damn kids. There were no nits to speak of (that I could see), but Blammo, especially, is crawling with the little buggers.

So guess how I get to spend my days off? Scrubbing my kids' heads with extra-strength Denorex (apparently salicylic acid works well), and washing all the bedding in hot water. I am overjoyed, as you can probably tell.

I rinsed them all with vinegar tonight, combed through their hair and picked out all the adults I could find. By the time I was done, it was almost midnight.

All I can say is, "Some people's kids..."

Sigh.

First review's in

2009-08-15T00:38:00.000-07:00

The Chancellor's Bride scored with Katie Seely at ParaNormal Romance. Though reviews on that site tend to be brief, I'm damn happy with this bit:

"A scorching hot love triangle!"

And this bit:

"I highly recommend this book, but please remember to keep a fan handy. You're going to need it."

Heck, if that isn't enough to tempt a couple of people to enter my poor, neglected, past-its-prime pick-up line contest, I don't know what will. :D

August Excerpt Monday!

2009-08-10T01:43:00.000-07:00

Time for yet another Excerpt Monday. This week, for lack of anything more timely, it's a snippet from my recent Samhain release, The Chancellor's Bride (m/m/f polyamorous erotic fantasy romance), which is selling like whoa and like damn at MBaM (but could always do better *ahem*).

And miracle of miracles, this excerpt is actually clean enough for my mom to read (if she were so inclined), but hopefully intriguing enough to, uh...intrigue you all. Yeah, so I used "intrigue" twice in the same sentence. It's late. Go ahead and sue me, I dare ya.

Hope you guys enjoy it. If you do, and you want a copy for nothing but a cheesy pick-up line, allow me to direct you to my currently stagnating cheesy pick-up line contest. Because the stagnant cheese is getting a little ripe--as stagnant cheese will--and all I need is a few more entries and I can wrap that baby up. :)

In other news, I am not in the nuthouse just yet. Ask me again in a week.

update!!!

2009-08-04T19:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, due to forest fires in our area creeping close to the power lines that service all of north Vancouver Island, they may be shutting off the power within the hour to minimize the risk to firefighters. It could stay out for as little as six hours, and it could be out for up to four days.

So if no one sees me around for a bit, don't worry too much. I'm just here in my dark house with four horrible children and nothing to entertain them but bickering. Maybe I'll have them fight to the death. Not only will they be entertained, but there will be less of them...

:)

Today's the day...

2009-08-04T10:34:00.000-07:00

Bound by Steel releases in print! Yay!

To celebrate, I decree a contest! I'm giving away a copy or two, signed by moi and shipped (knowing my tendencies to procrastinate and forget stuff) within a month of announcing winners.

For this contest, I want you all to compose a haiku, limerick or free form poem based on the following blurb:

A night of brutality destroyed her innocence…can the love of two people heal her wounded spirit?

“I’ve been thinking about Kaela…”

There they are—the words that lead Gil to suspect his wife Lianon is falling in love with Kaela, the beautiful, traumatized young woman they rescued from certain death six months ago. Gil has no idea how to compete with a woman for his wife’s affections, and part of him ceases to care as Kaela begins to work her way under his skin.

Kaela’s sweet innocence fills a chasm in Lianon’s soul she hadn’t even realized was there. As she gently helps Kaela rebuild her shattered confidence, Lianon begins to believe healing the young woman’s wounded spirit could be the key to wholeness for all three of them. If Gil agrees to follow her lead and help Kaela discover her own feminine power.

But even as they all succumb to their growing desire, Gil and Lianon are drawn against their will back into the intrigues and vendettas of Belthalas’ elite. With Lianon’s life at stake, Gil must weave a dangerous path between one adversary’s ambition and another’s lust for vengeance.
Success will save Lianon…but could cost them Kaela.

Product Warnings
This title includes explicit sex, including f/f, m/m, m/f/f, anal sex; bad language; questionable politics; violence; stringy, overcooked lamb; a dog with a major drool problem; and one seriously well-deserved comeuppance.

Haiku example:

Help! What do I do?
Wife's hot for the housekeeper.
What the heck--I'm in.

Limerick example:

A couple named Gil and Lianon
Adored one another, until anon
Kaela watched their lovemaking
And after partaking
Required a bigger bed to slumber on.

All right, pretty lame, but I'm sure you all can do better. Do your best, do your worst, gimme lolcatspeak if you like. It's all good. Winner gets a signed copy.

I'm not going to post a deadline just yet, but I expect to announce a winner within a week or two, depending on how many entries I get.

:)

ETA: CONTEST CLOSED, WINNER ANNOUNCED

Is it bleeding?

2009-08-01T12:51:00.000-07:00

Hehe, there I am enjoying my first coffee of the day, and the front door bangs open. Howling skirls up the stairs as Blammo charges inside and starts wailing "Mom, I hurt myself!" I turn in my chair to see him coming up the stairs, the entire front half of his hair saturated and bright red, blood covering half his face and dripping from his chin and nose.

"What did you do?" I ask as I usher him into the kitchen and grab a tea towel to soak with cold water and press it onto his...whatever is bleeding.

"I slipped at the park," he wails, "and hit my head on a rock!"

My buddy is hopping from one foot to the other, looking panicky, then decides she'll deal with the trail of blood on the floor and stairs.

"You're okay, dude," I tell Blammo, pressing the towel hard onto his head.

"Is it bleeding?" he asks.

The kid is literally covered in blood and he asks if it's bleeding. Um, okaaaay. "Yeah, dude, it's bleeding quite a bit, but it's probably just a little owie. Scalp wounds tend to bleed a lot, even if they're small."

After ten minutes of swabbing and trying to see through his trademark Saell thick hair, I still can't see the wound clearly, so I get him into the bathroom and get a tub running. "Hey, dude, you need to hold the towel so I can get your shirt off." I look at the blood all over his shirt, the size of the neck-hole and the size of his head, and decide, "I'm going to cut it off."

"CUT WHAT OFF??!!" he howls.

"Your shirt, dude," I laugh.

"Oh."

After about five minutes of pouring water over his head, I see an abraded patch about an inch in diameter, and two tiny perforations maybe a millimeter long. Through which, he bled a half a gallon of blood. And it's still seeping a bit. Stupid scalp wounds. But he won't need stitches. He's now playing World of Warcraft with a teatowel pinned turban-style around his crown, with a baggie of frozen corn tucked inside.

And the little bugger has been milking it for all it's worth--"Mom, I want some juice. Mom, I want some Dibbs. Mom, I can't reach my grapes. Mom, can you help me sit up? Mom, I wanted my salami rolled up, not flat." Oy.

Oh well. He's fine, if a bit whiny. But that was my morning. Wheeee!

:)

OMG help me

2009-07-31T14:24:00.000-07:00

Well, we're well into week two of my buddy and her three-year-old demon spawn staying at my house, and not surprisingly, nothing is getting accomplished. My word-meters are stagnant, emails in my inbox go unanswered and there are still 842, 560 dirty dishes in the sink. Every time I go to work, I think to myself, "I don't want to be here, but god help me, I do not want to go home." On top of which, she won't be able to move out for another week or so. Oy. My liver ought to give me a medal for not descending into full-on alcoholism at this point.

But lo, it is a long weekend, and the little guy's dad is going to take him for three nights. Angels are singing right now, I can hear a whole choir of them in my head as I type this.

Does this mean I'll be able to get my house clean or my WIPs written or anything productive done between now and Monday? Probably not. But I will make myself at least start an article for Victoria Janssen's blog--we're tentatively scheduled for August 28th, which is later than I'd like, but I did leave it til the very last second of the very last minute so I'm not about to complain. It also gives me more time to procrastinate, and my therapist says my self-esteem benefits from concentrating my efforts on what I do best, so procrastinate I shall.

For article ideas, I'm thinking "Writing F/F for Fun and No Profit", lol. Or how about "F/F/M: Two Hot Babes Seein' to Mah Manly Needs"?

Um, no.

I think my topic of discussion will be "F/F/M: Not Just a Straight Guy's Fantasy". Coming on the heels of Bound by Steel's print release (August 4th, BTW), and in light of my EC-aimed project, Vessel, I think it's topical, at least for me. I only hope I can do the subject some justice, especially since my brain no work so good right now.

I also have to arrange for some promo for next Wednesday (the 5th) to do at the Samhaincafe, and plan a contest or something for a print copy of BbS.

And I know most of you all have not entered my (admittedly half-assed and hurried) pick-up line contest for The Chancellor's Bride (still holding at #6 on Samhain's bestseller list), which is something that will have to change, because I absolutely refuse to announce a winner when there are only three qualifying entries. So get to it! I mean it. I'd say all the cool kids are doing it, but clearly most of the cool kids have other things to do.

And that's about all the coherence my brain can manage today--which does not bode well for my performance at work tonight, but oh well. They love me there, even when I mess up every two seconds and can't string an understandable sentence together.

Hugs. And if I don't blog again for a while, it will be because I've been committed--perhaps voluntarily. Maybe in the nuthouse, I'd get five minutes in the bathroom without all hell breaking loose on the other side of the door. A girl can dream...

Oooooh, purty.....

2009-07-25T14:09:00.000-07:00

Just lookit what the Purolator lady brung me yesterday afternoon! My buddy was there with me in the driveway when the van pulled up, so we got to open the box together, and she oohed and ahhhhed over how gorgeous this cover is.

This book is longer than my first two, as well, and it feels nice and thick and heavy.

Of course, I'll be giving away a signed copy or two as the official release day nears, and I'm also hoping to do a guest post on Victoria Janssen's blog (if I can think of something remotely relevant and entertaining to write about, that is).

The next couple weeks, I may not be around here as much as I'd like. My friend and her three-year-old are staying with me for now. We're hoping to get her old place cleaned up and ready for her to move back in next week--that means steam cleaning carpets and scrubbing stuff with bleach and moving furniture. But having a three-year-old who sprung straight from Satan's loins in my house has taken a blunt object to my muse and left it a mangled mass of bloody pulp on the floor. On top of that, my ex is unemployed, and can't afford to take our kids as much as I'd (and they'd) like. So it's a full house this summer.

Just five more weeks. Just five more weeks. Just five more weeks...

if it doesn't rain...

2009-07-21T09:37:00.001-07:00

I'm currently on the road on an emergency trip to help a friend, and won't be around until late tonight. And it's release day. Oy.

As far as The Chancellor's Bride goes, how about you all think up some goofy pick-up lines two men would use to woo a reluctant woman into their bed? Make them funny. Make them lolcat. Whatever. Leave as many as you like in the comments. Winner gets a copy.

No time for more--gotta check out and hit the ground running. Next stop, Canadian border. In four hours...

Oy.

ETA: I'm home, got in late last night. Will be around off and on today because I have to work. Oh, and I already got an email from a reader telling me how much they loved the book--how's that for fast? I'm pretty stoked. Hugs. :)

ETA: CONTEST CLOSED, WINNER ANNOUNCED

News, all good

2009-07-16T13:22:00.000-07:00

Thing one: This morning around 6 AM, I woke from a disturbing dream and wasn't able to get back to sleep right away. I relish moments like that, moments when I have nothing to do but let my mind wander where it will, turning over rocks to see what kinds of things it will find underneath.

Well, this morning it found the resolution to Lianon and Rhianna's second black moment. The story's been stalled for a while (which was okay, since it gave me time to work on Vessel), because once the two heroines had come to realize they were in love with each other and wanted to be together, I just wasn't sure how to get them from declaration to the HEA. Theirs is a complicated story and there are just so many obstacles between them and any kind of happy future, I was stymied by the problem of removing them all.

But as I lay there this morning, a scene just came to me--not a scene between Lianon and Rhianna. One between Lianon and the Kurgan, Samulo. A sweet, sad, wrenching scene that lays Lianon's heart bare and shows her Kurgan mentor/lover for the unbearably honorable, unutterably generous man he is. It shows just how deeply and perfectly two people can love each other, even when things between them are at their ending. I cried and cried, and I'm getting a little teary even now as I write this.

So. I've revised the wordcount on my word-meter, got 1.5k written, and I know where I'm going, so finishing this thing is only a matter of getting the time to do it.

Thing two: I received my final books for Chancellor's Bride from Samhain today. That means contests which means free books for a few lucky readers. The official release is Tuesday next, and I'm starting to get really excited. So keep your eyes open in the next day or two or three for a contest post.

:)

f/f vs. lesbian

2009-07-14T16:35:00.000-07:00

I posted a rather long and rambling post on LVLM today on the question of whether lesbian romance is synonymous with f/f romance. Part diatribe, part stream-of-conscsiousness, part genre analysis, it explores many of the reasons I believe the two genres aren't simply six of one, half a dozen of the other.

Any of you all want to go check it out, please do! It's even mom-safe. And leave a comment--even if you think I'm full of hooey. I'd really like to hear opinions, even those that differ from mine.

Excerpt Monday July

2009-07-13T00:54:00.000-07:00

It's time for Excerpt Monday once again, when authors post odds and sods from their published work, upcoming releases and works in progress. As promised, I've prepared a little taste of Vessel, my new f/f/m fantasy romance, for you all.

This story is completely unrelated to all my other work, set in a different made-up-by-me universe with characters I'm already starting to adore. I'm planning to submit it to Ellora's Cave, and I'm crossing my fingers that they'll like it. It would be totally blammo to be one of the first authors in a long while to place a book with them that features some of the hot girl-on-girl(-on-guy) action.

And dang, is this book gonna have loads of that. This will be a true f/f/m polyamorous romance, similar to Bound by Steel. All three characters get in on the bed stuff, and all three get to share the happily ever after. The story's 18 ooo words in and almost writing itself. The complications, they abound. The ironies, they are suitably...ironic. The thwarted love, it is soon to be requited and then some. All that good stuff.

And fortunately for my mom, this particular excerpt is PG. Yup, mom's got the green light to go have a peek. Sorry to disappoint the rest of you. :P

New Project!

2009-07-04T15:45:00.000-07:00

Okay, I've mostly resisted bragging all over blogland about Ellora's Cave inviting me to submit my work to them (direct to their EIC, no less), based on their reading of Crossing Swords and Bound by Steel. All question of modesty aside (because I have none), I was keeping fairly mum because I wasn't sure I had a project to send them. It's been my intention from the start to keep all my Emissaries-related books at Samhain (unless I manage to flog them to Tor or something--hey, hope springs eternal, right?), and since I've always set my stories in the universe of the Emissaries, well, I was kind of stymied.

I wasn't sure I was up to building another world. Thousands of years of history and mythology, religion and politics, cultures and customs? Oy.

But pretty much everything I've ever written has evolved from a handful of characters and a single scene, and a week ago, three characters popped into my head. Ralameis Antiog, a princess raised in a glittering palace where men rule and women are silent, forced into a political marriage with fierce tribal prince, Yavarro Singael. Harsh and ambitious, the finger-bones of his enemies woven through a hundred braids of his hair, he scares the living bejabbers out of her. Between them stands his vessel, Roucana, the shield upon whom each blow meant for him must fall, his will made flesh, obedient in all things. His vessel happens to be a woman. She also happens to be in love with him.

As you can see from the new wordmeter below and to the right, I'm already more than 5000 words in, and things are about to get complicated between the prince, his new bride and his vessel. Bad decisions will be made, feelings will be hurt, the heart's innermost longings will be laid bare.

And yes, there will be plenty of hot girl-on-girl-on-guy sexx0ring. Because with EC now considering dipping its toes back into the girl-on-girl pool, despite the fact that they told me I could send them whatever I liked, well, I'm the stubborn type. I know m/m/f BDSM would likely be received better, but being contrary by nature, it will be one man and two strong women from me, and all the bondage will be on the inside.

I'll be posting an excerpt from this WIP on Excerpt Monday, which is in just a week. Considering how my stomach was all tight and tingly playing out the scene in my head, I have some hope it will be both hot and heart-wrenching.

Hugs

Summer Reading Trail: July

2009-06-30T23:29:00.000-07:00

From the Trail Head at VoireyLinger.com:

Follow this trail and discover great new writers this summer. These free reads include short stories, serial installments, deleted scenes and book excerpts from published and unpublished authors. This trail will run from the beginning of June through the end of September, and stops will be updated on the first of every month, so you can enjoy a summer of reading. You are encouraged to explore authors' websites and blogs, to take a moment to leave them a comment and to bookmark sites and visit often.

My own contribution to the July Trail is a brief erotic scene (m/m, f/f(/m)) connected to my upcoming release, The Chancellor's Bride. This particular scene does not appear in the novel--in fact, this will be the only place you'll be able to read it until (unless?) I get my butt in gear and write the rest of the story.

From the moment I wrote Collin and Harral's characters in Bound by Steel, I was determined to give them their own story, and that's what I did in The Chancellor's Bride. But when C's B begins, Col and Harral are already an established couple. Part of me still wanted to explore the very beginning of their relationship, that initial spark that drew them to one another. I wrote their first meeting a few months ago with the intention of posting it as a free read as release day approached. The July Trail gave me a great opportunity to do that.

Hope you all enjoy! And don't forget to follow the trail and read more stuff by some great writers!

Ahhhh....

2009-06-30T20:32:00.000-07:00

So despite a delay caused by my inability to convince the ferry service to transport my children on a boat full of combustibles and toxic chemicals, I managed to get the little...uh...treasures off to their dad's for a Canada Day that will hopefully be filled with lots of laughs, togetherness and roasted marshmallows, and a minimum of bickering, fire-pit mishaps, and firecracker-mangled body parts.

This means that I....wait for it....HAVE THE HOUSE TO MYSELF FOR TWO AND A HALF DAYS!!111!!!111!

WOOT!

Odd thing is, I hardly know what to do with myself. I've already tidied the living room; got the kitchen mostly in order; went on a quest with my dog-catcher buddy to catch a stray husky (it eluded us, the sneaky devil); collected the laundry from all over the house (literally--there was a pair of dirty socks in the deep freeze. Don't ask); got the garbage ready to go out to the curb tomorrow; walked my dog with her new jabby collar that prevents her from strangling herself while simultaneously crushing the bones of my hands; eaten pizza (frozen, but still not bad); poured myself a Caesar; spent an hour looking at stuff on the internet I wouldn't want my mom to know about; watched some TV; did some editing; and now I'm watching Futurama (the episode with the anchovies) and doing this blog post. And coming to a realization that has shaken me to my very core.

I actually *gasp* miss my kids.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm overjoyed to see the rotten little cubs leave the den to go hang with papa bear for a few days. But it is hard to adjust to the lack of noise, arguing, mayhem and general distraction they create. But I swear, as god is my witness, I will not waste this time alone. I will write. I will fold nine loads of clean clothes and *shudder* put them away. I will vacuum and dust, without having to worry about a pack of young'uns following me around undoing all my good work. I will stay up as late as I want reading dirty books. I will dance around my house in my underpants if the spirit takes me.

Cue bagpipes and a gut-wrenching close-up of Mel Gibson's face as you scream one single, inspiring word with me: FREEDOM!!!

That is all.

My Own Private Hell...

2009-06-26T08:57:00.001-07:00

...begins today.

Yup, today is the official start of Summer Vacation. Altogether more than 9 weeks of glorious togetherness for me and my horrible children.

Oh, the bickering! Oh, the boredom! Oh, the unceasing demands for popsicles and change for the convenience store! Oh, the futility of trying to get Firstborn out of his jim-jams and into clothes every day!

I go into each summer with a vague sense of dread, the joy of not having to get up in the morning for more than two months tempered by the realization that my kids are now mine to deal with. This dread is usually amplified by the impending arrival of my stepsons, and often the older one's girlfriend and various buddies who also come out for a couple weeks.

Between my recent separation from my soon-to-be ex, and school issues with the boys, they won't be coming out this summer. I'm bummed, because I love them and miss them, but at the same time, I'm relieved that my first summer as a single parent won't be complicated by fourteen+ hour round trips to pick them up at the airport, finding room for them to sleep in my tiny house, and dealing with all the mayhem that accompanies their visits.

And now that my youngest has decided he doesn't hate the water, I'll be able to send him and his sister to the pool on nice days (nice being defined as warmer than freezing with winds slightly less than hurricane force), and the park IS just across the street. Firstborn will likely plug in the moment he gets up this morning, and stay attached to his computer for the full nine weeks. If he thought he could get away with it, he'd get a feeding tube and a catheter to pee through so he'd never have to get up. I console myself with the fact that he's doing actual, real constructive stuff on there--he's got an animation hobby and some of his scenes are pretty damn good. He's as obsessively fastidious with it as I am with my writing, and as lazy about everything else in life...like mother, like son.

But still, I am now outnumbered in my own personal fiefdom, and after a week or two of freedom, the serfs, they get restless. Time to hide the pitchforks.

Dudes, it's a Special Day, Apparently

2009-06-23T12:47:00.000-07:00

Fanatasy/SciFi Writers Day, that is. So proclaims Sharron Lee, and who am I to argue? Fantasy is the genre that first aroused true booklust in me. It's also what led me to want to write.

I'm giving a nod to just a few authors because you'd all be shocked--shocked, I tell you--to know how poorly read I am in what I claim as my favorite genre. I'd just like to thank them for giving me hours upon hours upon hundreds of hours of pleasure over the years.

J.R.R. Tolkien--well, no duh, really. Despite the occasional difficulty I had with his lofty prose (hey, I was like 9 or something), the moment I closed The Return of the King, I picked up Fellowship and read the whole shebang all over again.

Brent Weeks--my newest auto-buy author. The first book of his Shadows trilogy was an Orbit $1 special not long ago, and I picked it up from Sony. Three chapters in, I went and bought the other two at full price, and DAMN, it was awesome. No sex to speak of, but incredible nonetheless.

David Gemmell--can't really think of anyone who's written more fantasy novels, and though I didn't love every single one of them, there wasn't a DNF in the lot. From his futuristic/post-apocalyptic gunslinger Jon Shannow to his interpretation of Alexander the Great's story, to his latest (and last, sadly) Troy series, I gobbled them up like candy. Good thing my boss had pretty much every single one in paperback, sitting in a box in his closet. I spent six months back in 2005 reading nothing but Gemmell. And doing pretty much nothing but reading, heh.

George R.R. Martin--A Song of Ice and Fire. Dark, unpleasant, often leaving me with a vague nausea at how his characters treat other human beings, but so well written, I could not stop reading. Come on, George, how much longer must I wait for the next one? Do I have to beg? Send cookies? What?

Stephen R. Donaldson--this might seem strange, but I really did not love either of his most well-known fantasy series. I got through the first Chronicles of Thomas Covenant, and it was good (not reread good, but I did like his unlikable hero quite a lot), but the second one? Ugh. He totally redeemed himself, however, when he wrote the Gap Series. Science Fiction is hit or miss with me, and boy, did this one nail it. It has all the horrible, hideous, self-serving cruelty of humanity at its absolute worst, tempered with moments of perfect, unflinching self-sacrifice. The good guys (or what passes for them, heh) win, and the fact that their battle is fought at such huge personal cost to them only makes their victory sweeter. And he's damn good at making you feel for a character who does unforgivable things.

Guy Gavriel Kay--I've always wanted to write, but his Tigana is the book that made me want to be a writer. And every book he's written since then has only made me fall in more deeply in love with his work. I've reread every single one of them, some more than five times. He makes me cry, he makes me care, and his prose is so heartwrenchingly beautiful at times, he made me fall head over heels in love with the English language. Which is doubly amazing, since if I recall correctly, his first language is actually French.

That's my shortlist. And as I look it over, I'm noticing there are no women authors up there. Can't help but wonder what that means...

So how about you all? Who are your absolute favorite Fantasy/SciFi writers?

Another Contest!

2009-06-17T12:01:00.000-07:00

I'm over at the SamhainCafe today, posting some excerpts for my print release, Healer's Touch, and decided to run another contest. Because I'm just that magnanimous. :) This is a special, extra contest in honor of SamhainCafe's print promo day, but anyone can enter.

Same prize--a signed copy of Healer's Touch.

Same rules--come up with a caption for the cover (extra points for translating it into lolcatspeak), the funnier the better. And this time, just for fun, I'm going to pick the most lewd, sexually groan-worthy one of the bunch. So do your worst--and dirtiest. Enter as often as you like.

Here's the blurb once more for inspiration:

She’s determined to break his eight centuries of celibacy—at any cost!

Darjhian healer Aru has been in exile for eight hundred years, barred from the Deathless Land and parted from his wife. Now fallen from grace and no longer immortal, he can never return to her.

Yet he cleaves to his marriage vow and holds himself apart from everyone—especially Viera, the former prostitute whose sexual energy provides the power needed for his healing work. She presents a temptation he must constantly hold at bay if he’s to keep to his vow.

Viera isn’t interested in fighting temptation. She wants Aru. He wants her. What could be simpler? After three frustrating months working with him, her need for him has reached the breaking point. He claims he can never touch a woman again, but Viera isn’t the type to take no for an answer.

Over four glorious nights, she shows Aru everything he’s denied himself for eight centuries. But a shadow hangs over their passion. Aru is keeping secrets about the nature of his mortality. And now he faces a terrible choice…

Break Viera’s heart, or risk destroying her with the knowledge of what he truly is.

Product Warnings

This title contains: graphic sex, including anal sex, f/f and m/f/f; bad language; inappropriate use of a kitchen work surface; flagrant tickling of ivory; and a wagon-load of good, old-fashioned voyeurism.

All right, already!

2009-06-16T16:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, okay, you all can stop nagging. Oh, wait, my mistake. That was my conscience nagging, telling me I've been a lazy, unorganized, neglectful lump.

I promised a winner, and a winner you shall have, even if it kills me--which it might, and won't you all feel horrible then.

And, contrary to what some of you will have expected, it was one of the clean entries that tickled my funny bone the most. Yeah, I'm in an odd mood these days, so sue me.

So the winner of the lolcat contest thingie and proud owner of a copy of Healer's Touch embellished with my John Hancock (hehe, I said "cock", hey, I haven't changed that much), is Tarl, for this G-rated yet apt caption:

Yew got Lytning bug in yer hairs. I gets it for yu!

I'm sorry, but it was too cute, and too perfect. And I know what you guys are thinking--all those orifices and penis jokes, and this is the one I pick? Next thing you know, I'll start writing Young Adult or Sweet Romance, and when that happens, the men in white coats can't be far behind.

Congrats, Tarl! Well played! If you'd send along your mailing info to kirstensaell(at)yahoo(dot)com, I'll have your book dispatched forthwith. :)

Excerpt Monday!

2009-06-15T07:56:00.001-07:00

It's once again time for Excerpt Monday, folks. This month, I've posted a steamy bit from The Chancellor's Bride, so if you all want a sneak peak, go look.

For some more steamy excerpts, try:

Evie Byrne, Historical Romance (R)
Aislinn Kerry, Paranormal (R)
Kim Knox, Erotic- Sci-fi Suspense (R)
Ella Drake, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)
Annie Nicholas, Sci-Fi Romance (NC 17)

Or go tp the Excerpt Monday site!

I promised a contest...

2009-06-03T14:06:00.000-07:00

...and a contest ye shall have.

In honor of the print release of my second book, Healer's Touch (40% sex/volume), I am asking, nay, demanding you all come up with some brilliant diamonds of lolcatesque wit in my "Caption that Cover" contest. And no, I did not steal this idea from the Smart Bitches' post of yesterday--allow me to direct your attention to exhibit A, my comment timestamped 9:26 AM, May 27. Hah! In their faces! In fact, I bet those Bitches have been lurking around here and stole the idea from me! But I'll get them, don't you worry. And when I do--

*ahem*

As I was saying, I want lolcatspeak, and I want funny. And I know you all can deliver it. Enter as many captions as you like, and the winner will get a signed copy of the title in question.

Here's the blurb, for your edification:

She’s determined to break his eight centuries of celibacy—at any cost!

Darjhian healer Aru has been in exile for eight hundred years, barred from the Deathless Land and parted from his wife. Now fallen from grace and no longer immortal, he can never return to her.

Deadline for entries is Wednesday the 10th at 11:59 PM.

Howsh it goin, you guysh?

2009-05-27T08:16:00.000-07:00

I am stoned.

My injured neck and shoulder finally sent me to the doctor yesterday, and after commenting that he'd never seen two shoulders quite so uneven (my left has been riding about two inches higher than my right for the last week), and prodding my strained muscles and tendons, he told me to take two weeks off work and gave me a blammo prescription for cyclobenzaprine. He also recommended I see the chiropractor--we have a guy who comes to town once a week, and the first six visits are covered by medical.

Of course, there's no way I can afford to take two weeks off work, but I am taking a couple of days. Carrying trays of drinks and heavy plates of food in my left hand had me in agony over the last five shifts, to the point that after three or four hours my shoulder and my ear were trying to make sweet, savage love with each other. Even on Robaxacet, within ten minutes of starting a shift, I was lurching around like Quasimodo, complete with pained grimace and inarticulate grunts.

The cyclobenzaprine works much better than the Robax, but holy crapweasels, does it ever knock me on my ass. I took my first one last night at 5, and by 7 I was zonked on the couch, a puddle of drool forming on my pillow. I'm hoping that the side-effects will calm down between now and Friday, since my boss is stuck covering for me at work and I can't imagine he'll be having fun working a Friday night by himself.

This will also stall my writing for a bit--despite the perfect ergonomics of my La-Z-Boy/laptop setup, doing between 1 and 3k a day for the last little while hasn't been helping me get better. So I'm just going to take it easy and try to keep it under 1k a day. Although I refuse to take a total hiatus--I'm on a roll and could lapse into writer's block at any moment, so I have to forge ahead while I can.

The annoying thing is, I didn't even do anything to deserve this. Just about everyone has asked (with mandatory eyebrow waggle) what exactly I was doing when I threw my neck out.

Um, sleeping. Alone. I went to bed fine last Tuesday night, and Wednesday morning I couldn't turn my head. Which really, really sucks. I mean, if I'm going to injure myself in bed, I'd at least like to have earned it. But no, apparently sleeping is a high-risk physical activity for me.

Jeez, I feel old.

Ooooh, Lookit What I Got!

2009-05-25T14:47:00.000-07:00

Normally when the doorbell rings, it's the local Jehovah's Witness out to save my soul, or the obnoxious neighbor kid who won't go away until you apply your hint with a sledgehammer and a barrage of rotten produce, or a kindly passing pedestrian letting me know that my brake lights are stuck on again. But this morning, it was the Purolator lady with a basket of goodies for me. Yay!

As she handed over the box, she grinned and asked, "More books?" How's that for living in a small town--everyone knows everybody else's business, and they're often just as excited as you are when awesome things arrive.

Have to say, I'm as stoked as I was the first time. I'm wondering if it's ever something you get used to--holding your own book in your hands. As much as I love ebooks, as much as I hold to the belief that they're just as "real" as print books, there's something very...tangible about paper and ink. And the knowledge that now my work is accessible to the 90+% of the population that prefers print to digital doesn't hurt, either.

I will, of course, be putting one or two signed copies up for grabs as release day nears, and will think of something suitably mortifying for you all to do to qualify. I'm sure you won't disappoint me, either.

Just so you know, I haven't sniffed these books yet. I've been on muscle relaxants all week since I put my neck out on Tuesday, and I'm worried the fumes from the ink will interact with the drugs. Best to play it safe. :)

Procrastinating...

2009-05-19T09:30:00.000-07:00

...is harder work than you might think.

My kids went to their dad's on Sunday and, Monday being Victoria Day here in Canuckyland, they stayed there overnight. This meant I had the entire house to myself for over 24 hours. My boss, realizing the rareness of this occurrance (on par with a planetary alignment or the day my daughter says no to cake), offered me the night off work, too, so I had nowhere to go, nothing to do.

Woot! So what's a writer to do with 24 uninterrupted hours but sink into the La-Z-Boy with the laptop and write some blammo smut?

Apparently plenty.

I spent all day Sunday cleaning my house. Living room, kitchen, family room, bathroom, a week's worth of clean laundry finally folded (but not put away yet--baby steps, people). Oddly, I'm a little disappointed in myself. I take a certain pride in my ability to maintain the stereotypical facade of the absent-minded, slovenly, obsessive writer. On any normal day, my house could be falling down around me, and I'd rather be bloghopping, writing or engaging in lengthy email discussions about books.

But never fear. I haven't quite gone over to the dark side yet.

In between these uncustomary bursts of domestic activity, I managed to read the entirety of Ann Aguirre's Grimspace (yes, I'm the last person on the planet to read it, but I've now remedied that), and enjoyed it so much I purchased the second in the series from Sony before I went to bed so I could start it first thing Monday morning. Monday, I did nothing but sit on my ass and gobble up all of Wanderlust in one orgy of sci-fi gluttony before the kids walked back in the door at 3:00. And I had pizza delivered for dinner because the last thing I felt like doing was cooking.

After dinner, smut time, right? Uh, no.

Despite the fact that Lianon and Rhianna have been trying everything short of semaphore to get my attention back where it belongs, I spent the evening tinkering with the beginning of my giant, huge, epic fantasy WIP from ages long past (ten years ago, to be exact), the wellspring of all my current books. I'd originally written it in MSWorks, and saved it in individual chapter files, and I'd been dreading the Herculean task of taking each one and going through them, paragraph by paragraph, to modify the formatting and copy them into one file. As I went, I began to read, and got sucked in.

Not by the awesomeness, but by the suckage.

Much as I love the story itself, some of those scenes... *shudder* Oh, the horrors of my then-newbie mistakes! POV inconsistencies galore. Clunky dialogue riddled with "As you know, Bob" exchanges and a dismaying lack of contractions. Infodumping that would shame even Robert Jordan. Redundant redundancies that are appallingly redundant.

"What was I thinking with those funky dialogue tags?" I expostulated to myself. "And the redundancies? And what's with all the telling? Where's the subtext? Do my readers need to have every little thing explained to them? Are they idiots? And the fade-to-black sex scenes? Sheesh, is one orgasm too much to ask? Also, the redundancies, what's up with them?"

In desperation, I opened some of the later chapters and was much reassured that my writing has improved over time. But damn, that thing is going to need some work.

One day, I'll be up to performing the radical surgery that will make that puppy ready for submission. One day, I will conquer it. But not today.

Today, my friends, is for smut. Hot girl-on-girl smut. Nothing will stand in my way, dammit.

Lianon and Rhianna, here I come...

Cover Art Squee!!

2009-05-12T19:29:00.001-07:00

Well, here it is, in all its nekkid glory: the cover for my July release from Samhain, The Chancellor's Bride. If there's one thing that can be said for historical fantasy, it's that stock photos with, you know, clothes suitable to the period are hard to come by, resulting in an abundance of cover heroes and heroines strutting around in their birthday suits. And you won't hear me complaining about it, either...

Those of you who have read Bound by Steel may recognize the two lovely gentlemen in the blurb below--Chancellor Collin and his lover-cum-manservant, Harral. The moment I wrote their characters, I knew I had to give them their own story--and a woman they could both love to bits.

Her love for two men could save their future. Her secrets could destroy them all.

Recently re-elected Chancellor Collin sur-Gaerig is a rising star on the political scene, and everyone expects he’ll soon be rewarded with an estate and title. He also has a dirty little secret: he’s in love with his manservant, Harral. If anyone—especially the wife he’s expected to take—discovers their affair, all his aspirations will go up in smoke.

The mysterious woman he finds lying half-dead in the street is strong, beautiful, independent…and aroused when she catches him and Harral in a compromising position. As Aelis worms her way past their closely guarded defenses and into their bed, they realize she’s the perfect match for both of them.

But Aelis has a secret of her own, an ex-lover’s blackmail scheme that could get them all killed. To save the men she’s come to love, she’s willing to sacrifice her own happiness, maybe even her life.

Collin’s not about to let that happen. For the first time in his life, he’s willing to risk it all in order to have it all. Even if it means he could lose the man he’s loved for years—and the woman they both want to love forever.

Warning: This book contains explicit sex, including m/m and m/m/f; violence; bad language; financial irregularities; uneaten dessert; gratuitous invocation of various deities; and breakfast-table hijinks you’re not likely to witness at your neighborhood IHOP.

For those of you scandalized by the idea of a dessert going to waste, I'm just going to apologize and say the plot demanded it. I can't be held responsible. The muse made me do it.

If you all would like to read an excerpt, I have one up here--and it should be safe even for my mom to read. I'll be posting some steamier stuff as the release date gets closer, along with the obligatory contest wherein I demand commenters say embarrassing things in lolcatspeak for a chance to win a copy.

For now, I'm just going to sit back and stare at the unbelievably sexy curve of that woman's spine, and ponder how a man's armpit can get me all hot and bothered...

Excerpt Monday!

2009-05-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

It's Excerpt Monday again, that day when a bunch of us share links to excerpts from contracted work, released books or WIPs. Everyone who's playing this month will be posting five links to excerpts by other authors. My own is to a snippet from the work in progress you can see in my sidebar. I've picked 5 authors who all write similar genres with similar heat levels.

Kirsten Saell, Erotic Romance/Fantasy (NC-17)

Ella Drake Erotic Paranormal Romance (NC-17)

Ainslinn Kerry, Paramornal Romance (R)

Elise Logan, Paranormal/contemporary (R)

Vivienne Westlake, Historical Erotica (R)

Kate Willoughby Fantasy/Paranormal Erotic Romance (NC-17)

Want more? The Excerpt Monday site has a buttload of links to a ton of talented authors. Yay!

Happy Monday everyone!

Happy...yeah, whatever :)

2009-05-10T21:41:00.000-07:00

Other than Blammo, my youngest, barging in on me in the middle of my morning pee because he couldn't wait to shout "Happy Mothers' Day!" and hand me my marigolds (awww...), today has been pretty much like any other Sunday.

When I asked the kids last night if they wanted to do anything special today, or did they want to go to their dad's like usual, Firstborn replied with a grin, "What better Mothers' Day gift than a few hours to yourself without your horrible children?" Always knew he was smarter than he looks.

Considering I had to work (the only time I've ever had the holiday off was when I was 7 1/2 months pregnant with Blammo, the baby who thought he was an elephant) and could therefore not plan anything special like pizza or dinner out or what have you, I agreed, a few hours alone in the house would be very nice.

Wanting to mark the occasion, I refused to do any chores at all today, other than a single load of laundry (needed a shirt for work) and a brief stop at the grocery store. Once I dropped the kids off at the boat, I turned into an amoeba and didn't move until 4:30 other than to periodically extend a pseudopod and engulf some food or coffee.

Work was tolerable--customers were extra generous, which is not surprising when you are served by a mother on what's supposed to be her special day. My boss made me a huge pile of ginger fried shredded beef for dinner, and when I got home the kids were back and getting along.

All in all, a good day. I've never been the sentimental type--I forget my own birthday half the time, and only make a big deal out of Christmas because it's an excuse to shop and eat turkey. A little time to myself, and a little time being a mother, that's cool with me. :)

Hope you all had a good day, whether that meant breakfast in bed or seafood brunch or dinner out or a plastic cup full of marigolds delivered to you mid-pee. It's all good. Happy Moms' Day!

Rumors of My Demise

2009-04-28T09:24:00.000-07:00

...have been greatly exaggerated.

Yes, I know, it's been a week and a half since I last blogged, but you'll be pleased to know I haven't been killed, arrested or committed to a mental institution (not for lack of trying, though--three squares a day, all the valium you can eat, and no kids hollering at you? I'll take it!).

I've been spending the last while ignoring my backyard, despite several days of sun, but today I have vowed to cut the six or eight inches of winter growth off my lawn and maybe weed the front flower bed. I even bought gas for my lawn mower this morning as an act of good faith. I've also been fighting the bi-annual war of attrition with my walking hair factory. My new dog, George, may be less than half the size of the late, lamented Slip, but she generates fur like it's going out of style. Another week, and I'll have enough raw materials to build a whole new dog--better, stronger, faster than the old one, and hopefully quieter too.

I finally got my taxes filed, too. All right, I brought them to the magical tax lady, who also brews wine for me, and she did them for me. And due to the fact that I'm now making money off my writing, and can claim all kinds of expenses I'd never even thought I could claim, I'm getting money back. Not a lot, but considering the fact that had I done my own return this year I probably would have ended up owing, I'm overjoyed. Gotta love a woman who can conjure money out of thin air and keep you supplied in booze. :)

I've also been jumping in and getting all up close and personal in several online discussions of f/f love and eroticism in the romance genre, which, considering my WIP, is a subject that looms large in my mind at the moment. Last week, it seemed there was a new post every other day dealing with the issue, and in a rare departure from the norm, they've pretty much managed to maintain a civil and respectful tone with nary a "girl parts are icky" to be found. My blogging buddy, Leah, will be posting a link round-up on LVLM in the next day or two, including some cool posts from a year or two ago that anyone interested in female bisexuality and the fluidity of attraction and arousal might find useful.

I've also been plugging along with Lianon and Rhianna's story, adding 1000+ words/day. It's now sitting at almost the halfway point (unless I decide to up the final word count, which could very well happen, considering it's taken more than 17000 words just to get Lianon's hand up Rhianna's skirt. I know, for the queen of Page One Sex, this may seem unusual, but I think it works. At least I hope it does. Granted, there is sex before that--but it's not between the hero[ine] and the heroine).

I am, however, in a bit of a quandary regarding the title of this tome. The story, which involves Lianon leaving a fulfilling but fairly casual m/f relationship to pursue another woman, will end in her giving up the business of hired thuggery in favor of a more mundane lifestyle. Several titles have come to mind, but liberally laced with puntastic cheese and lame double entendres, they're right up there with Two Scabbards, One Sword (the cheesetacular working title of Bound by Steel).

Giving Up the Sword? Um, maybe not.

Sheathing the Sword? Yikes.

Sword and Satin? Blurgh.

Anyway, if any of you all have some ideas that don't involve thinly veiled phallic/vaginal symbolism, I'd be much obliged if you'd suggest them in the comments. :)

A teeny update

2009-04-16T09:19:00.000-07:00

First off, I'm in the midst of second round edits on Chancellor's Bride, and I've come to a shameful realization. I am addicted to adverbs. No, not the standard -ly adverbs that are the bane of so many writers' existence. Nope, I'm a slave to "up", "down", and "back". I also seem to have an unhealthy attachment to the word "so" in all its forms. Luckily, my editor Bethany is there with a huge vial of verbal methodone to help me kick the habit, and I think my writing is a lot stronger for her ruthless but fair application of the dreaded red pen.

Second, I just got the cover art comp for C'sB, and damn! I can't show you all until Crissy approves the final version, but holy crapweasels, it is smokin'! I can't gush enough about Mandy Roth AKA Natalie Winters, who also did the cover for Bound by Steel. That woman definitely knows sexy.

Third, I am currently kind of stymied concerning the tagline for the book--the one or two sentences that encapsulate the story. I hammered one out that wasn't precisely spectacular, and the blurb editor came back with a second option that I'm also not in love with. I mean, it's good, but I don't want to marry it or anything. Perhaps I should come up with a few possibilities and let you guys vote for which one you like best, or even make suggestions on how to improve it? I could make a contest out of it or something...

Lastly, I had a nice IM chat with Bethany last night, and was reminded yet again that she's the absolute best, most amazingly supportive editor evah!!!1! I honestly could not ask for anyone more enthusiastic about my work, and the fact that she's been willing to take chances on stuff other editors might not touch with a ten-foot pole just makes me feel so very fortunate to have her. And all I have to do to keep her happy is not kill off any small, furry animals. So I just want to give her a shout-out here: Bethany Morgan, you're my hero. :)

Excerpt Monday!

2009-04-13T09:50:00.000-07:00

It's excerpt Monday at Romance Divas, where promo-minded Divas have provided links to snippets from WIPs, contracted works and soon-to-be-released books. I posted the link to my own Chancellor's Bride--and FYI, I've also put up three new excerpts for works in progress on the Free Reads page of my website, if you all are interested in what I'm working on.

Go. Read. Have some fun.

Butterfly Swords by Jeannie Lin (with poll)
Cami’s First Kiss by Bria Quinlan
Excerpt Monday by Mel B (silentdreamer)
A Halloween Novella by Vivienne Westlake
Monday Excerpt by Maureen McCarrie
Monday Excerpt by Crista McHugh
Another Time, Another Place by T. Sue Versteeg
Monday Excerpt by Kinsey Holly
Del Fantasma by Becca Sheridan-Furrow
The Chancellor’s Bride by Kirsten Saell (Excerpt rating: PG, Site Rating: NC-17)
Scenting Cinnamon by Ella Drake (Rating: NC-17)
Asking for It by Kate Willoughby (Rating: PG-13)
21st Century Courtesan by Eden Bradley (Rating: Adult)
Excerpt Monday by Evie Byrne (Excerpt rating: PG, Site Rating: NC-17)
A Run for the Money by Gina Ardito
The Scroll Thief by R.F. Long
Resisting Kane by Stephanie Adkins
Inheritance by Lynne Chandler
The Encounter by Rose London (Rating: Adult)
Dying Embers by B.E. Sanderson
More than Magic by Babette James
First in the Soulguard series by Amber Gilchrist

Something Smells Rank

2009-04-12T16:37:00.000-07:00

...and it's Amazon.

Well, proving once again that even the irresistible marketing force that is Amazon is prone to hubris and hypocrisy equal to any soulless government bureaucracy, Amazon's PTB have rejiggered their sales ranking system to exclude what it deems "adult content".

By Amazon's definition, "adult content" = books on parenting for gays and lesbians, YA fiction with sex or gay characters, erotica, GLBT romance (even the sweet variety), dozens of Aphrodisia and HQ Blaze novels (and mine, I would assume), and Lady Chatterly's Lover.

By Amazon's definition, "all-ages content" = Mein Kampf, books on dogfighting, Playboy: Wet and Wild Complete Collection, Playboy: The Complete Centerfolds, graphic novels depicting incest orgies, the memoirs of porn stars, and American Psycho.

Clearly, their first concern is the moral well-being of the children. We must think of the children!

Why is this a problem, you ask? Because Amazon's sales ranking system and search engine are symbiotic. Exclusion from the sales ranking means your book will not turn up on the search engine--or in those stupid emails they're still sending me (after buying ONE book from them) suggesting that because I bought Stacia Kane's Personal Demons, I might like every other urban fantasy ever written. It's the brick and mortar equivalent of a bookstore removing your book from the shelves and making readers go to customer service to request it by name.

It also means (oh, the irony) that when gay and lesbian parents looking for info on raising kids enter the keywords "homosexual" and "parenting" into the search engine, it will spit out A Parent’s Guide to Preventing Homosexuality.

I'd laugh if it wasn't so stupid.

But there are things that can be done. You can sign a petition here.

You can write a nasty email addressed to ecr@amazon.com or phone them at 1-800-201-7575.

And the Smart Bitches have a cunning (and winningly bitchtastic) plan to mess with Amazon's Google presence. All you gotta do is stick this link: Amazon Rank somewhere conspicuous and encourage people to click on it. A lot. As the number of clicks increases, that post will creep up the Google ranking, and eventually, when people google Amazon Rank, they'll be directed first to the awesome new definition the SBs have come up with.

So, go on, have at them. Do your worst.

Ooooh, shiny!

2009-04-11T14:33:00.001-07:00

My new website, that is. After many trials and tribulations (which almost culminated in me seeing just how many billion pieces I could smash my new Vista-powered laptop into when it flat-out refused to unzip a zipped folder) I have built a new Wordpress website.

Well, actually, Elle Media designed it. And my fellow Diva and new favorite person evah, Jeannie Lin, whose book Butterfly Swords recently finaled in RWA's Golden Heart contest, went into the bowels of my webhost's FTP and actually got it up where it's supposed to be. Suffice to say, I now dream of Jeannie with the dark brown hair, her slender, gracefully tapered fingers stroking her keyboard and lovingly caressing my website into submission--much more effective than my standard bash-with-hammer-see-what-falls-out method.

This new site is not as graphics-heavy as the old one (not many nekkid pictures for y'all, sorry), but it will be super-amazingly easy to update. My old sitebuilder required me to have a huge program installed on my computer, to make any changes on that computer, then save them, then publish them to the project, then log onto my host and upload the altered file. I had to do this whether making a whole new page, or changing one typo.

Plus, there was no way to update from another computer, unless I wanted to go in and rewrite code onsite--and you can probably imagine how THAT would have turned out. Not long ago, I added a page (my Purple Panties story *ahem*), and it made all the content on my Kaemon & Egraen story pages disappear. I couldn't even figure out what had happened, let alone how to fix it.

Now, I can log on from anywhere, and make whatever changes I want in about three minutes, yay!

So with this new, easy-peasy to update site, what can you all expect? More news. More free reads. More ME! Hooray!

What, me worry?

2009-04-01T13:31:00.000-07:00

Okay, so about 11:30 last night, I formatted my manuscript, tossed off a quick email and hit "send". And felt like I was gonna puke my guts out. Not only has this book put me through a meat grinder, but I was anticipating a wait of up to a month before I heard a yea or nay--and I wasn't looking forward to it AT ALL.

So imagine my surprise when I looked in my inbox around 10 this morning to find an enthusiastic email from my editor. She loved it, and wanted to know if a July release date was cool with me. Of course, that would mean we'd have to blast through edits in less than a month, but between us, that is totally doable. Once I confirmed it was not an April Fool's Day joke (hey, I'm paranoid, so sue me), I happily accepted. Contract arrived less than an hour later, and we're set to get this puppy done by the end of the month.

Of course, that means I won't be working on Lianon and Rhianna's story for a while. But on the bright side, you all won't have long to wait to read The Chancellor's Bride. Yay! :)

About freaking time!

2009-03-28T15:00:00.001-07:00

The Chancellor's Bride is now done--69 000 words of spectacular (I hope!) m/m/f action, all tied up in a nice, fantasy romance bow. All I need to do now is sit on it for a few days, give it one more look-see, and then send it in to my editor.

But DAMN, this is a long time coming. It feels like this book has taken forEVER. I started it last summer and had initially estimated I could finish by the end of October--my editor, Bethany, even dangled a January release date in front of my nose if I could get it in by then. When Halloween came and went and I was barely half-done, I promised her the end of January. Then, a few weeks ago, I emailed her to say I only had a few thousand words left, and it should be done anytime.

Even those last few thousand words have been agony.

Holy crapping damn, this book has put me through a wringer. Part of me wonders if it's the fact that there are two heroes. My feelings about men have been a tad cool since my separation in September, and I've been distracted by thoughts of a new project--an f/f novella that will be a prequel to Crossing Swords.

Kids, yeah; work, yeah; housework, yeah yeah yeah--they're all great excuses for putting off doing what I'm supposed to, which is working on making writing a career. That ain't gonna happen if it takes me three-quarters of a year to write a relatively short novel. So as soon as this one is in the post, I'm buckling down and getting that prequel onto my hard drive. No more excuses, no more whining (and no more male heroes to put a damper on my creativity, heh. At least, not for a while). I'm planning between 30 and 50k for it, so it shouldn't take me long (famous last words, I know), and because the hero* is my favorite character ever, Lianon al-Sylphae, I'm hoping the words will continue to flow effortlessly.

In honor of this new project, I'm posting a new word-meter in my sidebar so you can all nag me when I deserve it. Please, don't be gentle--if my slacker ways are allowed to continue unchecked, I'm going to end up one of those writers who put out a book every two years, and none of us want that. So crack the whip, baby. I can take it. :)

*Yes, hero. Lianon may be a woman, but she is definitely NOT your typical romance heroine. She's even inspired me to write (hopefully in time to make the Samhellion newsletter deadline) an article on romance and the female hero. If you all have any suggestions of female heroes you've encountered in romances you've read, I'd be much obliged if you'd mention them in the comments.

Hugs.

Read an Ebook Week

2009-03-12T21:25:00.001-07:00

More than a day late, and a few bucks short, I'm here to remind you folks that it's Read an Ebook Week. Now, for me, pretty much every week is Read an Ebook Week, but for some of y'all, not so much (which is why I picked a publisher who also does print).

I'm not going to bore you all by sermonizing on why ebooks are totally blammo. If you're here, even if you're the type who swears you'll give up print books when someone pries them from your cold, dead fingers, you can probably list many of the benefits of digital books. What I am going to do is tell you to head over to ShannonC's website and check out her author interviews here, here and here. Being the glutton for punishment *ahem*, I mean dedicated ebook fan and supportive buddy that she is, she asked me to participate, as well, and my interview will be up tomorrow. For any of you who haven't yet given my books a go, she'll be giving away one of mine to one lucky commentor, yay!

You might also note that she mentions Crossing Swords in her romance book meme, as one book she wished she had written. I don't think I could find a better compliment anywere. Thanks, babe. :)

Cheers.

ETA: My interview is up. :)

There. I blogged. Happy now, Seeley? :P

Kill me now...

2009-02-26T13:46:00.000-08:00

After a week of barfalicious togetherness, I was all set to send my herd of brats to school today. Because no matter how much I love them, a week of whining, moaning, vomiting, hacking, nose-blowing, feverish quality time is enough for any mother.

The alarm went off at 7:30, I lurched up the stairs. Looked at my coffee-maker. Looked at it some more. Poured myself some iced tea and washed down a handful of pills. Then I stumbled back downstairs and crawled back into bed.

I feel like I've been hit by a truck. Fever, joint and muscle aches, chills. Only good thing is my cough seems to have improved and I'm not walking around with a wadded kleenex shoved up each nostril. But holy crapping damn, my body HURTS all over. No way could I have stayed upright long enough to get my monsters to school. Driving? Not a freaking chance. Only reason my fingers are obeying me so I can type this is because I've just had another handful of T-1s.

Does this make me a bad mom? I don't care. One more day off school will not doom them to failure come report card time.

For me, I'm just gonna go lie in the middle of the street and hope some kindly passing motorist runs me over. Blurgh.

Vomitrocious!

2009-02-23T11:55:00.001-08:00

Norwalk, that most vile of viral stalkers, has infiltrated my happy home. As always seems to be the case, my 13 y/o daughter was the first of its victims. She'd been planning a sleepover with two friends Saturday night, but when she curled up in a fetal position at 8:00 PM, insisting she felt like she was dying, I was forced to drive her disappointed buddies home. What followed was a puke-fest of epic proportions. I tell you, that girl barfs like a howler monkey--animals on the other side of the jungle run for cover at the noise she makes.

Blurgh.

Right now, she's stretched out on a row of kitchen chairs in my living room, drinking gatorade and watching women giving birth on TLC, while my 14 y/o son languishes on the sofa. If he isn't sick, he's faking it well--most notably by his lack of protest at having to watch women giving birth on TLC.

And me? I've managed not to succumb--yet. Mostly due to scrubbing myself from head to toe with lye and a wire brush every time I've had to come within three feet of my kids. Unfortunately, I did manage to acquire some hideous sinus thing this weekend that had me feeling serously bagged by Sunday evening.

But the weekend wasn't ALL bad. On the dubiously bright side, I discovered at work on Saturday night that one of my regular customers had a print copy of Crossing Swords. His wife bought it for him for Valentine's Day (awwww), and when I cringed and said, "But...but, you aren't actually reading it, are you?" he grinned and replied, "I'm on chapter five and enjoying it so far. Boy, that's some imagination you've got! Can I get it signed?"

Which is kinda embarrassing, and yet kinda cool as well. And it makes me wonder if what will bring more men over to romance is not an engaging subplot or tons of action, but the kind of graphic, blunt, no-holds-barred sex to be found in erotic romance. Although I'm sure the bloodbath at the end of Crossing Swords probably helps it appeal to a male readership, too.

And when the guy's brother gave me THE LOOK, complete with eyebrow waggle, and asked if my book was based on "personal experience", I just smiled and replied "Of course! I mean, you can't write convincingly about how it feels to slit a man's carotid artery and windpipe, or what it's like to drag your sword out from between someone's ribs unless you've actually...what? Ohhhh, you mean the sex? Nah, I don't do any of that."

I'm guessing in the next few weeks, I'll be signing a copy for him, too. Which is okay. If I'm running out of people I can look in the eye in this town, I at least want to feel like I've earned it. :D

Romance's Impossible Standard

2009-02-18T18:54:00.001-08:00

I was swirling around The Toilet Bowl (aka, Mrs. Giggles' blog) today, and found a post there about romance heroines that really resonated with me. For those of you with clickthruaphobia, the gist of it was: Why do we demand effortless perfection in our heroines? Why must a romance heroine be (naturally) large-busted, (naturally) slim yet curvy, and (naturally, effortlessly) gorgeous? Why is a heroine villified if she (god forbid!) gets breast implants to have that large bust, or (heaven forefend!) diets to achieve that perfect body, or (gasp!) wears make up to enhance her beauty?

Well, the indoctrination starts early, my friends. You can see it in Disney movies like Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, Cinderella: there's the heroine, perfect and pristine in her natural beauty and purity (even when she's dressed like a shlump), while the villainess is a heavily made-up, corset-wearing, updo-sporting nasty. And the villainess--even the fat, ugly Sea Witch, Ursula--comes off as more clever, overtly powerul, even sexual, than the sweet, innocent, gullible heroine, who triumphs not by wit or fortitude, but a combination of luck, blind faith and deus ex machina. It's no wonder that the villainess usually seems (to me, anyway) more complex, meaty and interesting as a character, while the heroine often has all the dynamic flavor and compelling texture of a Twinkie.

We're bombarded all through our childhood with the idea that for females, innocence and simplicity (even to the point of stupidity--I mean, the apple is freaking poisoned, duh) is good. Whereas a woman comfortable in her sexuality is evil. A woman who cares about how she looks is evil. A smart woman who knows what she wants and sets out to get it is--you guessed it--evil. A little lipstick, a push-up bra and a take-charge attitude can take a potential heroine from virtue to vice in less than 60 seconds.

But the times, they are a-changing. In romance novels these days, we increasingly demand a heroine who is smart, beautiful, sexy and competent, yet the moment the heroine appears to be aware of the fact that she's smart, beautiful, sexy and competent, she loses her lustre in the eyes of many readers. We're mired in that uneasy null-space between a woman's traditional role and women's liberation. Torn between the madonna and the whore.

One author's comment on Mrs. Giggles' post indicated that for her, the answer lies in m/m romance. That men are simply more dynamic, more powerful, more interesting (and hotter) romantic protagonists than women. Which leads me to ask: Why must we turn to men for characters that engage us? If it's possible to write a strong, complex and intiguing male, why is it so much less possible to write those same qualities into a female character?

I've written many heroines in my twenty-odd years of writing:

The six-foot-tall warrior/slave who lives for vengeance.
The coltish, breech-clad tomboy bastard.
The tavern girl who's lost count of the number of men she's been with.
The whore with the red-painted lips, who loves everything to do with sex.
The cross-dressing, unabashedly bisexual killer for hire with a death wish.
The daughter of a goddess who isn't afraid to use sex to get what she wants.
The traumatized rape victim who learns to love her body again.
The high-class rent girl with a financial plan that will get her off her back.
The queen who marries a man half her age and enjoys every second in their marriage bed.
The courtesan who sleeps her way to a chance at revenge.
The bisexual metallurgist who uses her psychic gifts for voyeurism.
Her lesbian companion who isn't past inviting a man into their bed to please her lover.
The child sexual abuse survivor and freedom fighter who is willing to die for her cause.
And four guilt-ridden immortals who ambush one poor sap into a polyamorous marriage.

These women are all beautiful, though not always (or even usually) traditionally so. Some are aware of their beauty, some aren't, and some don't much care one way or the other. Only two are virgins at the beginning of their stories (and none by the end, heh). They are all sexy, honorable, flawed, strong, intelligent, vulnerable, determined, complex women who are every bit as dynamic as any man.

There is beauty to be found in simplicity--if you're talking about a lamp or a vase or a china pattern. Sweetness is all very nice, but too much of it makes my teeth hurt. I'm not interested in Snow White. She bores the everloving crap out of me. Cinderella's passivity and martyrdom doesn't impress me--it makes me want to smack her upside the head. But the answer, for me, is not to stop writing women altogether. It's to write the kind of women I'd like to know, the kind of women I can respect.

Even if they wear lipstick.

Romance and Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T14:35:00.000-08:00

I've always been kind of indifferent to Valentine's Day. Part of it is my general lack of sentimentality for "special" days--especially those arbitrated by the greeting card and floral industries. Part stems from a (now ended) 15-year marriage to a man with similar deficiencies regarding overt demontrations of romantic feeling, which enabled me in my continuing ambivalence toward the hearts/flowers/candy trappings of V-day. To me, Valentine's day means little more than a busier-than-usual night at work. Simply put, I'm just not a member of the day's target demographic.

Don't get me wrong. I have a strong romantic streak. I do write romance, after all (even if there is a surplus of hot sexx0ring in it). Even way back when I was writing straight fantasy, my characters had a habit of falling hard for one another and I was all too happy to oblige them. But romance, to me, is less about dinner under candlelight, slow dancing (unless you're talking the horizontal variety, heh) and a dozen red roses, than it is about simply being with someone you love. Snuggles on the couch while watching a good action movie (I don't really do rom-com, either, lol), a pair of arms surrounding you while you stand at the sink washing dishes, a kiss when you need it, or even when you don't. If you don't have those things, no amount of flowers and heart-shaped chocolates once a year is ever going to make up for them.

I'll be spending this Valentine's Day without anyone special to share it with. That's cool, though. As I told my buddy Leah, my heart has everything it needs right now--kids, friends, family and a general happiness with my life and the person I've become. There's no shortage of love in my life, even if the romantic side of things is currently on pause.

I hope you all have a great Valentine's Day, whether you adore the assorted accouterments of the day, or are indifferent to them. Whether you're one half of a couple or in between relationships or a confirmed single. Love is love, and chocolates--even ones that aren't heart-shaped--still taste pretty darn good.

And for all of you who could use a laugh, I stole this from JenB's blog:

Happy V-Day! *mwah!*

My new dog is a freak...

2009-02-08T11:54:00.000-08:00

...so she fits right in around here.

Last week, my family adopted a friend's dog--a 3 y/o papillon/bichon frise/border collie cross. Just the right size (not small enough to be yippy, not big enough to hog the bed), not too bright but well-behaved, and cute as a button. My kids love her already, and so far she hasn't bit anyone, no matter how much they might deserve it. Thought I would post a couple of pics:

Here we have George about to get a nasty surprise from my 6 y/o son, Blammo. Note her benignly oblivious expression even as a hockey-mask-wearing, machete-wielding maniac bent on mayhem creeps up behind her. As I said, not too bright.

After her close call, she understandably felt the need to suck on her bunny for a while. She was separated from her mother at just 3 or 4 weeks old. Never having been properly weaned, she still feels the urge to suck, so we have a couple of stuffed bunnies she can go to town on. She'll suck them for half an hour sometimes, and fall asleep with the thing in her mouth. Cute and disgusting at the same time.

Ugh, looking at that picture, I can't help but note the hideously untidy state of my house. But never fear. Soon as I win the lottery, I plan to hire a maid. Until then, I'm content to live in total disarray.

Winnah!!!

2009-02-02T20:41:00.000-08:00

All right, I applied the most random and scientific method available to me (asking my 6 y/o to pick a number between 1 and 23).

He said 12. Well, first he said 50, then he said 12.

And that means the lucky recipient of a signed copy of this baby right here----------->

is Tiah!!!

Tiah, if you'd be so kind as to email me with your info, I will shoot your copy off to you ASAP (as soon as plausible, which for me, could be a week or two). My addie is kirstensaell(AT)yahoo(DOT)com.

Thanks to everyone for commenting and sharing their thoughts on a little down-home, wholesome, old-fashioned revenging.

Hugs and smooches. *mwah!*

Inspired...

2009-01-29T23:08:00.000-08:00

...by an intriguing but questionable conversation with...someone who shall remain nameless *ahem*, I have penned a new short story and posted it on my website under the dubious title of Purple Panties**. It is entirely, completely, thoroughly not my usual thing, but it kinda wrote itself in a few frenetic hours and I feel much better now.

You see? This is what happens when I talk to people. *sigh*

And y'all, comments are still open in my revenge-o-rama contest. You've got 'til tomorrow night to enter, so do it!

**And mom, just in case you don't pay attention to the tags, I'm gonna bold it here: Don't look, mom.

It's the big day!!! (and a contest, too)

2009-01-27T12:31:00.000-08:00

...and I've been doing pretty much nothing.

Okay, not true. I finished a short story I started last night--a 3000 word contemp erotica written in the present tense and first/second person POV. Totally not my thing, but I was... inspired. *ahem* I'll post it later in the week once I've polished it up.

I've also been wracking my brain for contest ideas. I so wanted to come up with something silly for you all to do to qualify, but then this post at Dear Author got me thinking about revenge and whether it's a trope that's attractive on a woman. I mean, revenge--like a crisp, white dress shirt--almost always looks good on a man. Considering some of the themes in Crossing Swords, I kinda thought the discussion was applicable.

So here's what you all have to do for your big chance to win a signed copy of my very first published book: Just tell me in the comments what you love/hate about revenge plots in romance. It can be a simple as"ZOMG, I love them!" or "I hate them because men are jerks," (and frankly you won't get much argument from me on the second one, these days, heh), or a detailed analysis of what kinds of plots work for you and which don't. Just gimme something. Anything.

Deadline is Friday, Jan 30, winner announced by Monday.

Just do it. You know you want to.

Just a couple of things...

2009-01-26T09:13:00.000-08:00

Today is your last chance to get in on Amy's contest over at Romance Book Wyrm and have a chance to win one of these babies.

And believe me, they're even more gawgeous in person than they are on a screen.

Tomorrow is the big day for Crossing Swords. Out of the nest it goes to either fly or plummet. I'll be at SamhainCafe on the 28th, posting excerpts and generally making a pest of myself (yeah, what else is new?), although I'll also be working, so if anyone sees my boss coming, the signal is the call of a screech owl, followed by hollering "tippy-toe" three times. I'm thinking I'll probably do a bit of a contest myself, although I'll have to think up some fun and embarrassing things to make you all do to qualify. Hmmm....

Also, I've finished proofing my galley copy of Healer's Touch (only two real errors that I could find, and just a few other things to change. Yes, my editor and I are just that good. LOL). It's scheduled to release in print the third week of June, woot! AND, just Wednesday (the day I wrestled my dryer into submission and made it my bitch, I ROCK!!), I opened my email and found the galley for Bound by Steel. It's scheduled to hit print in August. So it's gonna be one happy summer for me, yay!

Also, FYI, the word-meter down aways and to the right-------> is a lying liar, and I'm too lazy to beat the truth out of it, so I'll just update you all here. Chancellor's Bride is currently sitting at 56 500 words, and I've rejiggered the estimated word count when complete to about 65k. So it's nearly 85% done. Perhaps it will even be finished in time to get under contract before my galley for BbS is due, so it can make it onto the Coming Soon page. Although, as I've discovered with this book in particular, holding my breath is kind of bad for my health.

So that's it for now. I'll see you all back here tomorrow, when I will hopefully hear the delightful flutter of little, baby wings, rather than the whistle-thud-kaboom of a falling bomb. :D

Hot Pimping Action at AmyC's

2009-01-22T10:45:00.000-08:00

AmyC, the best pimp a working girl *ahem*, I mean author, could ask for, is holding a contest at her blog, Romance Book Wyrm, and she's giving away a print copy of Crossing Swords.

If you want to win that bad boy, head on over there and leave a comment.

Do it. You know you want to. :)

Blogging at LVLM

2009-01-15T21:31:00.000-08:00

I blogged today at LVLM on the relative scarcity of hot girl-on-girl action in erotic romance--which strikes me as odd considering the popularity of shows like The L-Word, and songs like Katy Perry's "I Kissed a Girl". If you are fond of a bit of f/f smoochie-smoochie (and if you like my books, I'm guessing you are), pop on by and leave your thoughts in the comments.

Just do it. You know you want to. :)

Dudes!

2009-01-11T23:47:00.000-08:00

Angela James, editor extraordinaire, is coming to Romance Divas for a 3 day class on Epublishing! Come join us Jan 13-15 and ask her anything.

Everything You Ever Needed to Know About Epublishing (and some things you didn't know you should know)

Why doesn't epublishing offer advances? What are some of the pros and cons of publishing my manuscript via epublishing? How do I research publishers? Can I really make money in epublishing? What exactly is POD? Can you give me a snappy comeback for people who say that epublishing isn't real publishing? Epublishing has evolved and grown, especially in the last 5 years, but with growth comes pitfalls and problems, and trusting an epublisher with your baby might seem like a risky proposition. We'll cover the basics of epublishing, from choosing an epublisher and contract details to methods of ebook and print distribution to reasons why you might not want to epublish your manuscript.

Bio:

In 2005, Angela James joined Samhain Publishing, Ltd, a small press company focusing on digital publishing, as its executive editor, where she has played an instrumental role in building the company from the ground up. In her executive position at Samhain, Angela is responsible for managing the publisher's editorial services division. Her responsibilities include the management of editorial staff, quality oversight, networking and marketing efforts at regional, national and international writing conferences to promote the electronic publishing industry as well as Samhain.

In addition to her administrative duties, Angela continues to edit more than 50 authors including national bestselling authors Lucy Monroe, Lilith Saintcrow and Deidre Knight.

Guest Author at LVLM

2009-01-07T22:08:00.000-08:00

Dudes! Author and fellow Samhellion Anne Rainey is over at Loving Venus- Loving Mars, talking about her new Samhain release, Burn.

It's all about the hot girl-on-girl-on-guy action, plus there's a $10 Amazon GC up for grabs, too! Head on over and leave a comment for a chance to win.

Just do it. Doooooo eeeeet!!!11!

O.M.G.

2009-01-06T11:25:00.001-08:00

Lookit!

I'd say more, but I'm dizzy from sniffing the ink. Mmmmm....

Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye...

2009-01-05T16:15:00.000-08:00

Only thing worse than having to say goodbye is knowing you could have avoided it.

Pyometra.

If you have a female dog and you're not planning to breed her, please have her spayed. I wish I had.

Sexual Journey? I am so there....

2009-01-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

JANUARY 16th and 17th, 2009

Come participate in a Romance Divas workshop with an in depth look at the way successful Erotic authors have created a story that's not only HOT but also meaningful. This workshop will be held in the Diva's Secrets Steamy section which requires special permission. Please contact an administrator HERE when you have created an account. There are no requirements other than your statement that you are over 18. This is for readers and authors alike so come and join us.

Well, I'm game. How 'bout the rest of you?

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T14:58:00.000-08:00

All right, it's more than half a day late and many many many dollars short, but I'm saying it anyway. And to celebrate, I'm changing up my blog. Don't know if I'm in love with the template I picked, but I am too lazy and inept to seriously customize this thing, so it will have to do. I have visions in my head of awesome graphics and gorgeous colors but they all look like gobbledegook when expressed in HTML, so forget it.

I'm also supposed to be cleaning my house right now (it's a New Year's Day tradition), but I just don't feel like it. I hit the internet instead of the bottle last night, but still ended up with something of a hangover. Internet hangovers differ from alcohol induced ones in that there is less nausea but a bigger headache.

So I'm relaxing, trying to collect my thoughts before I write my mandatory daily wordcount for January (500 words a day ought to be doable even for me, right?). If I stick to that, I'll have Chancellor's Bride in my editor's hand by the end of the month, and then it's on to something new--that is, something I started sometime in the last year or two, but only let myself write a few thousand words of. I think I might try that f/f romance idea I've been kicking around. Not a lesbian romance, mind you, an f/f romance--there's a difference that's hard to put into words, like the difference between Gibson's London Dry Gin and Tanqueray (I'm always up for a booze analogy the day after a party).

I know many people make New Year's Resolutions. I've always seen them as pointless set-ups for feelings of failure, and the prevailing sentiment among my acquaintances seems to bear this out. Therefore, in the spirit of self-validation and optimism, I'm making some realistic resolutions for the coming year. In 2009 I resolve to:

Keep drinking when I feel like it
Clean my house less (totally doable)
Be more content with what I have
Put on ten pounds (heck, I may even exceed my goal here)
Smile more

If you all have any resolutions, feel free to share in the comments. Realistic ones only, please.

:)

One more Squee for 2008

2008-12-29T10:12:00.000-08:00

AmyC has some more nice things to say about my writing, this time in a combined review of Crossing Swords and Bound by Steel. Here's a bit of what she wrote:

The depth of the relationship between Gil, Lianon and Kaela was extremely well thought out and very satisfying. The plot, the characters, their relatioships and interactions were wonderful, making both Crossing Swords and Bound by Steel highly engaging reads.

Mmmmmmm yummy, now that's good review!

Of course, now I have to get off my lazy butt and finish Chancellor's Bride. :)

Oooh! Oooh!

2008-12-25T13:50:00.000-08:00

In the "Squee" column, just lookit what I got! I knew I was getting it, I'm even the one who wrapped it, and I'm still all excited.

*Victorian tinsel strategically placed to obscure my mild-mannered alter ego.

You know, one thing I love about Samhain is that they have so many titles available from MBaM in SONY pdf. Including mine, heehee! AND even if you've already bought them in a different format, you can go back to your bookshelf and get them in SONY. Yay for my TBR pile!

In the "Total bummer, I haz sad" column, my dog started peeing all over the house yesterday. I'm hoping it's just a bladder infection, but whatever it is, the vet won't be back in his office until Tuesday. So if Slip doesn't like cranberry juice, she's just gonna have to stay in that cage for the next several days. Poor dog...

If it isn't a bladder infection, I don't know what we're gonna do about it. Heroic measures are out of the question for us. But as big a pain as she is, I'm not quite ready to send her off to that big old dog-hair covered couch in the sky...

But adding to the "Squee" column, my kids haven't gotten into a single argument so far today. We didn't forget to go to the liquor store yesterday when it was still open. I made $150 in 6 hours at work on Christmas Eve, our turkey is smelling totally blammo, and I have ten scratch and win Bingos to get through before supper. Oh, and I'm two glasses down, so I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy, too.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Hugs and big ol' sloppy kisses for all of you!

I feel like a kid again...

2008-12-24T23:49:00.000-08:00

...Christmas just does that for me. Not the getting, but the giving, the stuffing of stockings and piling of loot under the tree. The kids shaking parcels and trying to figure out what on earth is inside them before ripping them apart and holding that treasured whatever-it-is aloft and doing a victory dance...

The turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes with a gallon of gravy, and an excuse to drink before noon, dammit! Being with family when we're all half-cut and laughing at just about anything.

I love Christmas. Love it.

Whatever holiday all of you all are celebrating, have a great one!

XOXOXOX

An Early Christmas Squeeeeeee...

2008-12-23T18:19:00.000-08:00

Lookie what I found!

(Actually, AmyC emailed me yesterday to give me a heads up that she was really enjoying Healer's Touch, and I've been pretty damn stoked ever since.)

Behold, yon snippet:

This was truly an erotic romance, not merely explicit scenes. With the voyeurism so prominent throughout, it plays on your senses. The book is not riddled with explitive words, but has scenes that are highly charged regarding the nature of them, rather than the blunt usage of nouns describing anatomy.

Without a doubt, I am a fan of Ms. Saell and will continue to follow her work as it's published. Her compelling prose will grip you and sink under your skin.

And this is doubly awesome since I believe Healer's Touch is the reviewer's first foray into the realm of hot girl-on-girl action in her steamy romance. I'm totally thrilled that she liked it so much, and I'm all pinned and needled over the fact that she's reading Crossing Swords as we speak.

I tell ya, there is nothing cooler than to find out someone really connected with something you wrote. If you could package that feeling, it's all I'd want under the tree this year.

Well, that and a Sony...