I wasn’t going to say anything until after my move, because my computer is about to be boxed up, which means I won’t be available online, but I know there are quite a few people who’ve been waiting and waiting … the e-book is available for download on the Seventh Window website.
The palm tree cover is new and temporary. The wonderful cover Aman Chaudhary did for me will be back shortly. If you’d prefer not to wait until then, go ahead and download the palm trees. We’ll hook you up with a new download once the old cover is available. If you don't see the format you prefer, let us know. We're already working on the Kindle edition as well.
I’m going to think up a few give-aways while I move, so check back in about two weeks for your chance to win a few FREE downloads of THE PROTECTOR in its e-book format.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Moving made easier
I’m by no means an expert on moving, but I’ve sure done it a few times. Cross-Atlantic once. Cross-Pacific three times. Within the continental US, too. Here’s my no. 1 tip: ORGANIZE.
Look through everyone’s closet. Get rid of everything you haven’t worn within the last 12 months. Think of how you get dressed in the morning and then toss that shirt that you never pick, because it doesn’t go with anything. It won’t fit any better in the new house. Get rid of your skinny clothes; if you lose whatever weight you’re working to lose, treat yourself to a few new jeans. Look closely at all your junk (and I mean that in a loving way), pick it up and touch it. Do you really want to have to unpack that?!
Group things together. Take all the photos and art off all your walls and put them in one area together. Collect all the books in one pile. Keep your electronics in one spot, this includes all the cables and connectors and surge protectors and remotes and batteries. Instead of having everyone’s radio alarm clock in four different boxes, let them be packed in just one box. If like-things are grouped together, they also get packed together, which makes finding them so much easier later on.
LABEL THE BOXES. No, no, don’t worry about the moving people (if you have any) labeling your stuff. You need to make sure YOU know exactly what’s in every box, where it came from or where it’s going in the new house. Write it on the box yourself. We had a mover once who seemed to write down each item as it went in the box, only at the new destination did we realize when we looked at the boxes that we couldn’t decipher his handwriting. Labels are super important, because you don’t want to have to search through a dozen boxes to find the one thing you need/want right away. They also make unpacking smoother, because you can prioritize.
Think ahead. Make a checklist. Write stuff down. Keep things in a safe place, so they don’t accidentally get boxed-up. Don’t assume anything. Movers pack anything they can get their hands on. If there’s something you want left out (your toothbrush, wallet, embarrassing sex toys etc), put it in a spare bathroom marked DO NOT PACK THIS ROOM. We had our trash boxed up once. I figured the movers would know not to pack a trash can with obvious trash in it. Nope. It got boxed and shipped and unpacked at the new location. Ew.
Relax. Most things will get to the new location. Some thing always gets lost and somehow stuff from two moves ago will show up unexpectedly.
Look through everyone’s closet. Get rid of everything you haven’t worn within the last 12 months. Think of how you get dressed in the morning and then toss that shirt that you never pick, because it doesn’t go with anything. It won’t fit any better in the new house. Get rid of your skinny clothes; if you lose whatever weight you’re working to lose, treat yourself to a few new jeans. Look closely at all your junk (and I mean that in a loving way), pick it up and touch it. Do you really want to have to unpack that?!
Group things together. Take all the photos and art off all your walls and put them in one area together. Collect all the books in one pile. Keep your electronics in one spot, this includes all the cables and connectors and surge protectors and remotes and batteries. Instead of having everyone’s radio alarm clock in four different boxes, let them be packed in just one box. If like-things are grouped together, they also get packed together, which makes finding them so much easier later on.
LABEL THE BOXES. No, no, don’t worry about the moving people (if you have any) labeling your stuff. You need to make sure YOU know exactly what’s in every box, where it came from or where it’s going in the new house. Write it on the box yourself. We had a mover once who seemed to write down each item as it went in the box, only at the new destination did we realize when we looked at the boxes that we couldn’t decipher his handwriting. Labels are super important, because you don’t want to have to search through a dozen boxes to find the one thing you need/want right away. They also make unpacking smoother, because you can prioritize.
Think ahead. Make a checklist. Write stuff down. Keep things in a safe place, so they don’t accidentally get boxed-up. Don’t assume anything. Movers pack anything they can get their hands on. If there’s something you want left out (your toothbrush, wallet, embarrassing sex toys etc), put it in a spare bathroom marked DO NOT PACK THIS ROOM. We had our trash boxed up once. I figured the movers would know not to pack a trash can with obvious trash in it. Nope. It got boxed and shipped and unpacked at the new location. Ew.
Relax. Most things will get to the new location. Some thing always gets lost and somehow stuff from two moves ago will show up unexpectedly.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
My Lambda Literary Awards adventure
It’s been a week now since my adventure in New York, and that means it’s high time I tell you about it. First, just in case you haven’t heard or seen, I didn’t win the Lambda Literary Award for Gay Romance. Bummer. (Check out the winners here.)The very first time I got excited about the Lammies was the day Ken Harrison, my publisher, called to let me know that THE PROTECTOR had made the finalist’s list. How awesome was that?! The second time I got really excited was the day I received my ticket in the mail. But the big excitement didn’t happen until I slipped into my red gown and walked into the lobby of the W – The Tuscany, waiting for the car to take me to the Proshansky Auditorium. I was so nervous I forgot to put lipstick on!
So there I was, no lipstick, in my beautiful red dress, horribly nervous. I don’t think I’ve ever been that nervous. I was shaking I was so nervous. Of course, it really didn’t help that I didn’t know anybody at the reception. Walking into a room full of strangers is a nerve-wrecking thing all on its on. Walking into the Lammies …
But I met some awesome people right away. Joseph Lund and his partner. Ruth Perkinson and her family, who made sure I didn’t feel too lonely, standing all by myself. Thank you. Josie Gordon and her partner Jen. Charles Flowers.
Once Ken Harrison joined me, the two of us having a glass of wine to calm our nerves, the party started looking up. It’s so much easier dealing with a group of complete strangers when there’s someone at your side. We shouldered our way through the many groups of talking people and at one point I introduced myself to a complete stranger! Remember I’m shy and introverted :-)
We spoke shortly with Drew Ferguson, met Laura Baumbach and Victor Banis (I wish I’d had more time to chat with Victor) and circled the room hoping to catch up with Larry Duplechan.
We met Larry and his husband Gregg. I assured Larry I thought he was going to win our category. And I wasn’t just saying that. He paid me the greatest compliment. He said he’d thought I was a man. Now there’s only a certain number of times a woman in a red gown (even without lipstick) is thrilled to hear she’d been mistaken for a man, trust me. But how awesome is it that a gay man read my book and didn’t spot the fact that its writer was a heterosexual woman right off?
Neil Plakcy joined our conversation and it was awesome to finally meet him in person. Thanks again, Neil, for blurbing my book and not laughing at me when I first approached you, thinking you were completely, utterly out of my league.
Back to the Lammies, which in my limited experience felt like the Oscars. At this point I had no real expectations about winning or losing. I knew I had done a good job, but I also knew the other authors had great books. It was all up to the judges and their taste this year. I had a solid 1-out-of-3 chance of winning.
Once inside and seated, I was dying of nerves. I was terrified, let me tell you. The idea of having to get up on stage to accept an award and give a short thank-you speech was truly horrifying. I was so nervous, in fact, that I didn’t want to win. There was just no way I wanted to go up on that stage.
Next time I watch the Oscars and see the winners tremble, seemingly unable to form coherent sentences … I totally know what that feels like. I can sympathize with the overwhelming terror/joy/surprise.
I was so relieved when Felice Picano who commented on THE PROTECTER’s awesome cover announced Larry Duplechan as the winner of Gay Romance. Ohmigod was I relieved! Honest. I wasn’t disappointed or bummed; I was relieved and happy as hell to have missed out on the whole going on stage thing. Whew.
Would I have loved to have gotten the award? Yes, absolutely. But was I bummed? Nope. It’s been a week now and I’m still feeling very honored to have made the shortlist of finalists with my first book. I’m incredibly grateful to my readers and the Lammy judges and super proud, but mostly I’m still relieved that I didn’t have to go on stage :-)
I’ll be better prepared the next time. Heck, I might even wear lipstick then.
Some other nice people I met that night: Scott Heim who won for Gay Fiction and used to live in Kansas. Scott Sherman whose debut won Gay Mystery. Anthony Bidulka (ohmigod!). John who writes as Jospeh Pittman. I said a brief Hello to Nicole Kimberling before she won LGBT Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Horror, because we both wore a red dress in a sea of darkly-dressed people.
Other odds and ends: Working on a full-sized laptop on an itty bitty plane ... interesting. I basically had the keyboard tucked under my chin. I thought long and hard about taking the laptop, but I figured I could use the downtime, also known as waiting in the airport, to get some actual work done. It wasn’t until the guy in the seat next to me turned on his laptop and I saw a cute picture of a small kid plastered across his screen that I realized I would power up to a naked guy on my desktop. Oops. (And yep, I totally fired that machine up.)
There are young women in New York City walking around with their dogs in the crook of their arms. How they balance on those heels with a canine drapped over their arms …
There are attendants in the FAO Schwarz bathrooms. If you’re feeling nauseous and faint, possibly a left-over from all those nerves from the night before (not the drinking, because you only had one drink), you might not want to seek out an FAO Schwarz bathroom. Spending the day walking the halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art might not be ideal either.
Observing a traditional Aoteraroan greeting—forehead and nose pressed together, breath exchanged—made me homesick for Hawaii, but attending Matariki New York 2009 was way cool. Matariki was a celebration of Pacific Island diversity, featuring music, dance and poetry from New Zealand (Aotearoa) and the Cook Islands. The Kahurangi Maori Dance Theatre performance was OUTSTANDING.
Laura Baumbach (right) and I, courtesy of the wonderful Neil Plakcy
Friday, April 24, 2009
Castle
I always forget to watch this crime show starring Nathan Fillion on Monday nights. Usually it’s not until Tuesday when I secretly sneak in to delete all the weekend kid shows that I realize, “hey, there’s an episode of Castle on here.”
I missed the premier episode, so I’m not sure why Nathan Fillion’s character is acting like a pseudo-profiler. I get that he’s a writer and hanging out. I like his character. I like his mother and daughter. But every week I wonder, “when does he write?”
When does he write?
And why is he so instrumental when it comes to solving crime? How was crime solved before he decided to get real-life experience and camp out at the police station? How did that lady cop make it to Detective if she needs Castle to interpret the clues for her?
I can’t remember her name and that says a lot about her character. I can tell you, though, that she owns the same shirt in a number of colors and wears it OFTEN. She also has a red coat I love, but I can’t remember her name. Now I’m a bit disturbed by my noticing her clothes, because I am so not into clothes at all. Apparently I can’t be bothered with what she has to say or offer, so I pay closer attention to her outfits. That definitely says something about her character on the show.
What makes me watch on Tuesdays or Wednesday, whenever I have time or feel the need to procrastinate, is simply the presence of a writer. Every week I watch, hoping for some insight. But when does he write?
I missed the premier episode, so I’m not sure why Nathan Fillion’s character is acting like a pseudo-profiler. I get that he’s a writer and hanging out. I like his character. I like his mother and daughter. But every week I wonder, “when does he write?”
When does he write?
And why is he so instrumental when it comes to solving crime? How was crime solved before he decided to get real-life experience and camp out at the police station? How did that lady cop make it to Detective if she needs Castle to interpret the clues for her?
I can’t remember her name and that says a lot about her character. I can tell you, though, that she owns the same shirt in a number of colors and wears it OFTEN. She also has a red coat I love, but I can’t remember her name. Now I’m a bit disturbed by my noticing her clothes, because I am so not into clothes at all. Apparently I can’t be bothered with what she has to say or offer, so I pay closer attention to her outfits. That definitely says something about her character on the show.
What makes me watch on Tuesdays or Wednesday, whenever I have time or feel the need to procrastinate, is simply the presence of a writer. Every week I watch, hoping for some insight. But when does he write?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Pirates in my future?
Did you follow the Somali piracy story and successful rescue of Capt. R. Phillips? I certainly did. This wasn’t the first time an incident of piracy made the news, but I wager most people don’t know how common and widespread the problem of piracy really is.
I’m not sure if the statistic is still correct, but some years ago the South China Sea was the most dangerous in terms of piracy. The BBC had some reports on this that I still have in my research folder.
Before I started working on THE STALKER, I looked at piracy as an issue for Mason and Soren to deal with. Some of my friends and readers said that the idea sounded really interesting, especially since it would prominently feature the Sprite. Good news, I haven’t given up on the idea. In fact, I think it sounds really interesting, too. I’m afraid, though, I’d have to do some serious damage to the Sprite—think fireball and explosion—and I’m not ready to do that yet. So don’t expect to come across pirates after reading THE STALKER.
Another subject matter I find immensely interesting is the white slave trafficking issue. I haven’t done any research beyond regular news watching, but I have a hunch that trafficking might play a role in one of the next books (quite possibly book 3).
I’d also like to send Mason and Soren to Sweden. To visit relatives and attend a family function, like a wedding or funeral. My friend Christiana who lives in Germany regularly visits Sweden. I’ll have to bug her for details about the land of Pippi Langstrumpf and Michel von Loenneberga (two of Astrid Lindgren’s characters) and Nils Holgersson (Selma Lagerloef’s creation). I imagine that book won’t feature explosions, but lots of great food and a number of visits to the sauna (though, the sauna’s originally from Finland).
Personally, I prefer the steam room over the sauna, but either is wonderfully relaxing.
I’m not sure if the statistic is still correct, but some years ago the South China Sea was the most dangerous in terms of piracy. The BBC had some reports on this that I still have in my research folder.
Before I started working on THE STALKER, I looked at piracy as an issue for Mason and Soren to deal with. Some of my friends and readers said that the idea sounded really interesting, especially since it would prominently feature the Sprite. Good news, I haven’t given up on the idea. In fact, I think it sounds really interesting, too. I’m afraid, though, I’d have to do some serious damage to the Sprite—think fireball and explosion—and I’m not ready to do that yet. So don’t expect to come across pirates after reading THE STALKER.
Another subject matter I find immensely interesting is the white slave trafficking issue. I haven’t done any research beyond regular news watching, but I have a hunch that trafficking might play a role in one of the next books (quite possibly book 3).
I’d also like to send Mason and Soren to Sweden. To visit relatives and attend a family function, like a wedding or funeral. My friend Christiana who lives in Germany regularly visits Sweden. I’ll have to bug her for details about the land of Pippi Langstrumpf and Michel von Loenneberga (two of Astrid Lindgren’s characters) and Nils Holgersson (Selma Lagerloef’s creation). I imagine that book won’t feature explosions, but lots of great food and a number of visits to the sauna (though, the sauna’s originally from Finland).
Personally, I prefer the steam room over the sauna, but either is wonderfully relaxing.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
THE PROTECTOR is an amazon.com victim
When I first learned of amazon.com removing the sales rankings from a large number of glbt books, I felt safe and complacent. After all, the books that lost their rankings were apparently adult-themed. In my eyes, THE PROTECTOR is anything but adult. None of my eleven tags include the words “sex” or “erotic” or “erotica” or “adult.” Boy, was I wrong: The “adult” label wasn’t more than a badly-conceived smokescreen and THE PROTECTOR had indeed been victimized.
How these books that lost their ranks are/were targeted is still a mystery. Tags don’t seem to be the problem. None of my tags indicate whether or not there is any adult (sexual?) content. Friends report that their heterosexually-erotic books are just fine, but their non-erotic gay novels are affected. One small publisher that I heard of had all their books “de-ranked.” Some authors report that only the print versions of their books lost their sales rankings, whereas their Kindle versions are still ranked. Other authors who have different editions of one book with different publishers (think backlist) noticed that only some of their editions lost their sales rankings.
I’m by no means an expert on amazon rankings, but they are important to the search feature that goes with the site. The search and browse features themselves were never all that great (I sure as heck had trouble finding what I was looking for), but they are nevertheless important. In the scheme of things sales rankings are far more important to authors and publishers than readers, because they are tools to gauge publicity efforts, for example.
But unless readers specifically search for author or title, they might not find THE PROTECTOR now.
I don’t care if amazon.com is a private enterprise and as such has the right to sell or not sell whatever they want (within legal limits, of course). All I know is, it looks like my book is actively being treated differently—negatively—than other books, according to amazon.com itself based on its content, and that’s discrimination as far as I am concerned.
If you have an opinion on this, feel free to let amazon.com and the rest of the world know. Blog. E-mail. Fax. Phone. Boycott.
How these books that lost their ranks are/were targeted is still a mystery. Tags don’t seem to be the problem. None of my tags indicate whether or not there is any adult (sexual?) content. Friends report that their heterosexually-erotic books are just fine, but their non-erotic gay novels are affected. One small publisher that I heard of had all their books “de-ranked.” Some authors report that only the print versions of their books lost their sales rankings, whereas their Kindle versions are still ranked. Other authors who have different editions of one book with different publishers (think backlist) noticed that only some of their editions lost their sales rankings.
I’m by no means an expert on amazon rankings, but they are important to the search feature that goes with the site. The search and browse features themselves were never all that great (I sure as heck had trouble finding what I was looking for), but they are nevertheless important. In the scheme of things sales rankings are far more important to authors and publishers than readers, because they are tools to gauge publicity efforts, for example.
But unless readers specifically search for author or title, they might not find THE PROTECTOR now.
I don’t care if amazon.com is a private enterprise and as such has the right to sell or not sell whatever they want (within legal limits, of course). All I know is, it looks like my book is actively being treated differently—negatively—than other books, according to amazon.com itself based on its content, and that’s discrimination as far as I am concerned.
If you have an opinion on this, feel free to let amazon.com and the rest of the world know. Blog. E-mail. Fax. Phone. Boycott.
Guam Premier Outlets Security Guard Fights Off Machete Attack With Steel Chair
Written by Phillip Leon Guerrero, Pacific News Center - Guam, Saipan, CNMI, Asia-Pacific
Tuesday, 14 October 2008 05:58
Guam - A security guard in the Guam Premier Outlets used a steel chair to subdue a man chasing him throughout GPO’s food court after hours. Guam Police Department spokesperson Officer Allan Guzman says G4S Security, which services the outlet, removed the man from the building when he refused to leave after he was informed it was closing.
He came back armed with a machete just as the guard was locking the food court doors. The suspect then chased the him around the court. The security officer was able to throw the metal chair at the man, and hold him until other security personnel and Police arrived.
The suspect received minor injuries. He was treated by GFD Medics at the scene. 21-year old F.H. Sbbas of Tamuning was arrested for aggravated assault and public drunkenness. He was booked and confined.
***
Wow. I love it when real life and fiction collide. The chapter I'm struggling with, or gave up on, includes a knife fight outside the mall. I think I'm going to give the guy a bigger knife now. "Machete" sounds so much more menacing. Hmm. I think my struggle with this chapter might be over. Maybe all I needed was a bigger weapon and a little inspiration in the form of this real life incident.
Tuesday, 14 October 2008 05:58
Guam - A security guard in the Guam Premier Outlets used a steel chair to subdue a man chasing him throughout GPO’s food court after hours. Guam Police Department spokesperson Officer Allan Guzman says G4S Security, which services the outlet, removed the man from the building when he refused to leave after he was informed it was closing.
He came back armed with a machete just as the guard was locking the food court doors. The suspect then chased the him around the court. The security officer was able to throw the metal chair at the man, and hold him until other security personnel and Police arrived.
The suspect received minor injuries. He was treated by GFD Medics at the scene. 21-year old F.H. Sbbas of Tamuning was arrested for aggravated assault and public drunkenness. He was booked and confined.
***
Wow. I love it when real life and fiction collide. The chapter I'm struggling with, or gave up on, includes a knife fight outside the mall. I think I'm going to give the guy a bigger knife now. "Machete" sounds so much more menacing. Hmm. I think my struggle with this chapter might be over. Maybe all I needed was a bigger weapon and a little inspiration in the form of this real life incident.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Yay!
When my wonderful publisher Ken Harrison asked me to write about how awesome it feels to be a finalist for the 21st Annual Lambda Literary Awards, I immediately agreed. I’ve now had some time to get used to the idea that a number of writers, booksellers, librarians, and journalists—according to the official Lambda Literary Foundation website—thought my debut novel THE PROTECTOR deserved to compete against books written by Laura Baumbach, Josh Lanyon and Larry Duplechan, who’s the very opposite of a debut author.
Holy cow! I imagine this is what it feels like to be nominated for an Oscar. Or ace the Olympic try-outs. It feels like getting into graduate school or looking at your newborn for the very first time.
I’m so thrilled and so proud, I’m positively glowing. I’m all “it’s so awesome to just have been nominated I won’t even mind losing.”
I was pretty good about repressing any pre-announcement jitters. I didn’t once visit the Lambda site to check if maybe, just maybe Charles Flowers posted the list two weeks early. In fact, I’d completely forgotten about the Lammies until last Friday when I suddenly realized why March 15 was circled on my calendar. Then I became nervous. To make matters worse I had plans for Sunday and wouldn’t be able to check my e-mail every ten minutes (which would have been okay had the announcement come before 8 a.m. Central time).
Instead, I was at the grocery store when Ken called. My excited outcry at the good news probably scared off some patrons *g*
Receiving congratulatory e-mails from friends and fans and readers before I even had a chance to see the nominations for myself was totally exciting. I mean I’m supposed to be excited, I have a personal stake in this, but it seemed other people were just as happy and thrilled as I was. How cool.
Well, you’re probably getting the idea that sometimes even writers have trouble finding the right words. So I really want to say just one thing: THANKS to all those people who believed in me and supported me. You guys rock!
Holy cow! I imagine this is what it feels like to be nominated for an Oscar. Or ace the Olympic try-outs. It feels like getting into graduate school or looking at your newborn for the very first time.
I’m so thrilled and so proud, I’m positively glowing. I’m all “it’s so awesome to just have been nominated I won’t even mind losing.”
I was pretty good about repressing any pre-announcement jitters. I didn’t once visit the Lambda site to check if maybe, just maybe Charles Flowers posted the list two weeks early. In fact, I’d completely forgotten about the Lammies until last Friday when I suddenly realized why March 15 was circled on my calendar. Then I became nervous. To make matters worse I had plans for Sunday and wouldn’t be able to check my e-mail every ten minutes (which would have been okay had the announcement come before 8 a.m. Central time).
Instead, I was at the grocery store when Ken called. My excited outcry at the good news probably scared off some patrons *g*
Receiving congratulatory e-mails from friends and fans and readers before I even had a chance to see the nominations for myself was totally exciting. I mean I’m supposed to be excited, I have a personal stake in this, but it seemed other people were just as happy and thrilled as I was. How cool.
Well, you’re probably getting the idea that sometimes even writers have trouble finding the right words. So I really want to say just one thing: THANKS to all those people who believed in me and supported me. You guys rock!
Monday, March 16, 2009
the 21st Annual Lambda Literary Awards
Friends, readers and fans, I have the most awesomest news to share: My gay romantic suspense novel THE PROTECTOR just became nominated for the 21st Annual Lambda Literary Awards.
I am beyond excited right now.
THANKS for reading and e-mailing and reminding me that I have fans who enjoy what I do and who know it's okay to e-mail in suggestions and challenges. THANKS. I wouldn't be here today without your continued support.
Mahalo
I am beyond excited right now.
THANKS for reading and e-mailing and reminding me that I have fans who enjoy what I do and who know it's okay to e-mail in suggestions and challenges. THANKS. I wouldn't be here today without your continued support.
Mahalo
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
5-star review
I’m psyched. Rainbow Reviews had a look at THE PROTECTOR and gave it 5 stars. How totally awesome it that?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Because Josh asked so nicely ... here an additional 25 random facts:
1. I cannot wait for Supernatural to start on the CW tonight. It’s one of the few shows on TV I absolutely love.
2. I wouldn’t mind being left-handed.
3. I want to learn sign-language.
4. I started learning Japanese when we lived in Japan, but didn’t continue once we came back to the U.S.
5. I’d move back to Japan in a heartbeat. I love Japan even more than Hawaii.
6. And I truly love Hawaii. I miss Hawaii (aloha, Debby; I miss the SinC chapter, too).
7. Like Josh, who tagged me, I don’t do horror movies.
8. I like researching a new novel better than actually writing the new novel.
9. I have horoscopes and personality profiles for all my major characters.
10. I’m a procrastinator.
11. I don’t have stick-to-it-ness.
12. I love being a Pisces.
13. I hate conflict (see #14). I can’t stand negative people or negative energy; it sucks the spirit/life right out of me and I don’t have any extra energy to spare.
14. I have fibromyalgia (you know, like that lady in the Lyrica commercial on TV) and suffer from chronic fatigue (which is why I don’t have energy to spare on negative things, see #13).
15. I wear a 39R shoe :-)
16. I wear my watch on the right wrist.
17. I’m so not vain; I’ve been known to leave the house without ever having looked in the mirror.
18. I don’t like vegetables. Or food in general. I dislike cooking.
19. I love books. I love reading.
20. I can’t stand American Idol.
21. It is my dream to win an Oscar (but I’m not actually doing anything to work on that).
22. I would love to just take the whole family and move somewhere for a year where we help the community (you know, like Africa or China and South America).
23. I think not having sex before marriage is a mistake.
24. I can’t hold a grudge (see #13-14 for possible explanation).
25. I think people who don’t know who to drive a car with a manual transmission don’t really know how to drive a car; all they do is steer (must be the German driver in me).
2. I wouldn’t mind being left-handed.
3. I want to learn sign-language.
4. I started learning Japanese when we lived in Japan, but didn’t continue once we came back to the U.S.
5. I’d move back to Japan in a heartbeat. I love Japan even more than Hawaii.
6. And I truly love Hawaii. I miss Hawaii (aloha, Debby; I miss the SinC chapter, too).
7. Like Josh, who tagged me, I don’t do horror movies.
8. I like researching a new novel better than actually writing the new novel.
9. I have horoscopes and personality profiles for all my major characters.
10. I’m a procrastinator.
11. I don’t have stick-to-it-ness.
12. I love being a Pisces.
13. I hate conflict (see #14). I can’t stand negative people or negative energy; it sucks the spirit/life right out of me and I don’t have any extra energy to spare.
14. I have fibromyalgia (you know, like that lady in the Lyrica commercial on TV) and suffer from chronic fatigue (which is why I don’t have energy to spare on negative things, see #13).
15. I wear a 39R shoe :-)
16. I wear my watch on the right wrist.
17. I’m so not vain; I’ve been known to leave the house without ever having looked in the mirror.
18. I don’t like vegetables. Or food in general. I dislike cooking.
19. I love books. I love reading.
20. I can’t stand American Idol.
21. It is my dream to win an Oscar (but I’m not actually doing anything to work on that).
22. I would love to just take the whole family and move somewhere for a year where we help the community (you know, like Africa or China and South America).
23. I think not having sex before marriage is a mistake.
24. I can’t hold a grudge (see #13-14 for possible explanation).
25. I think people who don’t know who to drive a car with a manual transmission don’t really know how to drive a car; all they do is steer (must be the German driver in me).
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Sixteen random facts about me
1. I didn’t make my daily writing goal today (does this exercise count?).
2. I’m afraid of heights.
3. I love peas.
4. I’m a night owl (I’m a true moon-ruled Pisces).
5. I was born on a Thursday.
6. I have four tattoos.
7. I believe in reincarnation and karma (I’m a fan of Buddhism).
8. I married my first and only boyfriend.
9. We met during the holidays twenty years ago, Thanksgiving & Christmas 1988.
10. I wish I had an Irish accent.
11. I was an exchange student.
12. I love redheads and freckles (I married a freckled redhead).
13. I love math.
14. I’m contemplating getting my Ph.D.
15. I’m certain I have adult-onset ADD.
16. I love horses and horseback riding, but I’m not leasing or sharing board right now.
2. I’m afraid of heights.
3. I love peas.
4. I’m a night owl (I’m a true moon-ruled Pisces).
5. I was born on a Thursday.
6. I have four tattoos.
7. I believe in reincarnation and karma (I’m a fan of Buddhism).
8. I married my first and only boyfriend.
9. We met during the holidays twenty years ago, Thanksgiving & Christmas 1988.
10. I wish I had an Irish accent.
11. I was an exchange student.
12. I love redheads and freckles (I married a freckled redhead).
13. I love math.
14. I’m contemplating getting my Ph.D.
15. I’m certain I have adult-onset ADD.
16. I love horses and horseback riding, but I’m not leasing or sharing board right now.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Goals, resolutions and such
In no particular order:
- finish THE STALKER by March
- finish Riley’s and Ever’s story by April or earlier
- write Finn’s and Peyton’s stand-alone novel by the end of the year
- travel to Chicago to get passport and visit bestest friend in the world
- travel to Germany to visit family over the summer
- do silly things once a week (ask kids for help)
- become a Lambda Literary Awards finalist and travel to NYC to celebrate
- win a Lambda Literary Award
- sell out second edition of THE PROTECTOR
- sell even more e-book versions of THE PROTECTOR
- learn how to play the violin
- eat healthier
- read more with kids
- speak German with kids so they can actually communicate with their grandparents and great-grandparents
- write grandmother more often (at least once a month)
- phone or e-mail far-away friends more often (reply to e-mails in timely fashion)
- watch less TV
- play outside more often
- stop thinking depression is a personal flaw
- nourish creativity
2009
Best wishes for a wildly successful new year. May it bring you peace, happiness and the fulfillment of dreams.
Viel Glück, Erfolg und alles erdenklich Gute im Neuen Jahr.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
“Paper, Scissors, Death”
I hate to admit it, but I’m reluctant to try out new authors. I love reading, but I don’t have a lot of time to read, so I stick to authors and books I know I’m going to enjoy. Occasionally, though, I leave my comfort zone for something new and different. And, boy, did that pay off the last time I did it.
I discovered Joanna Campbell Slan and her fiction debut Paper, Scissors, Death at the Manhattan Mystery Conclave a few weeks ago. I saw Joanna speak about her pet character, Gracie, and I was intrigued. So I bought her book. I had no idea what to expect from a Scrap-N-Craft mystery.
I’m not into arts and crafts. I don’t like scrapbooking. I have absolutely no visual talent and even less desire to work on anything that involves glue or sticky tape. Add to that my unfortunate dislike of first-person POV and Joanna’s book was in a tight spot. But I read it, and I loved it. In fact, I adore it.
I liked that Kiki, the cozy sleuth, had no idea what she was doing. Yes, she knew she needed to find the killer of her husband, but she had other more pressing issues to deal with first: without money or resources, she needed a job, a home, some safety in a life that was crashing down around her. Not model tall or model thin, she felt like a very real person thrust into a bad situation. She did her best, and I liked the way she rallied after each setback. Her friends, Dodie and Mert, were delightful in their no-nonsense approach to life. Detective Chad Detweiler received bonus points for cooking and gently pursuing a relationship with Kiki. (I’m so glad to hear that he’ll stick around for the next book in this series.)
Yes, Kiki used her scrapbooking knowledge to figure out the mystery behind her husband’s murder, but I didn’t have to know a thing about arts and crafts to follow along. I had an interesting glimpse into a foreign world, and I enjoyed the tour. Joanna did a great job of making me feel comfortable, explaining things and not making me feel like the clueless crafter that I am. Hey, for a moment I even wondered if I could work one of those beginner kits Kiki put together for her scrapbooking students :-)
I can absolutely recommend this book to anyone who’s looking for a cozy mystery.
I discovered Joanna Campbell Slan and her fiction debut Paper, Scissors, Death at the Manhattan Mystery Conclave a few weeks ago. I saw Joanna speak about her pet character, Gracie, and I was intrigued. So I bought her book. I had no idea what to expect from a Scrap-N-Craft mystery.
I’m not into arts and crafts. I don’t like scrapbooking. I have absolutely no visual talent and even less desire to work on anything that involves glue or sticky tape. Add to that my unfortunate dislike of first-person POV and Joanna’s book was in a tight spot. But I read it, and I loved it. In fact, I adore it.
I liked that Kiki, the cozy sleuth, had no idea what she was doing. Yes, she knew she needed to find the killer of her husband, but she had other more pressing issues to deal with first: without money or resources, she needed a job, a home, some safety in a life that was crashing down around her. Not model tall or model thin, she felt like a very real person thrust into a bad situation. She did her best, and I liked the way she rallied after each setback. Her friends, Dodie and Mert, were delightful in their no-nonsense approach to life. Detective Chad Detweiler received bonus points for cooking and gently pursuing a relationship with Kiki. (I’m so glad to hear that he’ll stick around for the next book in this series.)
Yes, Kiki used her scrapbooking knowledge to figure out the mystery behind her husband’s murder, but I didn’t have to know a thing about arts and crafts to follow along. I had an interesting glimpse into a foreign world, and I enjoyed the tour. Joanna did a great job of making me feel comfortable, explaining things and not making me feel like the clueless crafter that I am. Hey, for a moment I even wondered if I could work one of those beginner kits Kiki put together for her scrapbooking students :-)
I can absolutely recommend this book to anyone who’s looking for a cozy mystery.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Homophobia at its best
I’m heartbroken.
My little guy had a playdate with his very best friend scheduled for later this week. Today I received an e-mail telling me that the playdate is off. His friend’s mom followed the link in my e-mail signature and discovered that we have vastly different outlooks on life and the world we live in. She wrote a very polite e-mail saying, among other things, that she wasn’t going to interfere in our son’s friendship, but that she didn’t want my little guy at her house.
Ouch.
Now how do you tell a five-year-old that he’s become the victim of homophobia?
My little guy had a playdate with his very best friend scheduled for later this week. Today I received an e-mail telling me that the playdate is off. His friend’s mom followed the link in my e-mail signature and discovered that we have vastly different outlooks on life and the world we live in. She wrote a very polite e-mail saying, among other things, that she wasn’t going to interfere in our son’s friendship, but that she didn’t want my little guy at her house.
Ouch.
Now how do you tell a five-year-old that he’s become the victim of homophobia?
Sunday, November 09, 2008
"One Silent Night"
Last night I devoured the new Sherrilyn Kenyon, “One Silent Night.” I’m a great fan of her Dark-Hunter universe, in particular her Weres, but we haven’t seen those in a while. Still, this new book has a few of my other favorites in it: Nick. I love Nick Gautier. In the past, he needed a good slap upside the head, and he really, really needed to stop whining, but he’s still one of my all-time favorites. He has such potential and, boy, this new complication in his life (I’m talking about p.305) has all the makings of an awesome story. Urian. Don’t I love the tortured ones the most? Ash. But I have to admit I enjoyed him better when he was single. Just goes to show, I prefer the tortured ones.
I enjoyed this book. I’m a great fan … but … I would rather wait longer for a new book to come out than read one that feels rushed or underdeveloped. The rushed feeling wasn’t as prevalent in this one as in the last few (Acheron not included), but it was there, in the missing fluff and details. The build-up of conflict and tension is still there, but the steep angle at which it traditionally rises towards the dramatic conclusion feels far reduced. As if Sherrilyn only allowed herself one paragraph to deal with each emotion, hurdle, new clue, character, complication or whatever. What’s missing is depth.
I don’t think it helps that there are so many characters. Yes, this is a book about war, which necessitates a large cast, but I don’t think I’m meant to consult my notes to see who’s who, how they’re related and where they came from. The problem is that all these characters vie for my attention and steal time from the protagonists.
As a writer I can appreciate the need for and the benefit of a large cast, but as a reader I feel like secondary supporting characters are dangerously close to becoming “deus ex machina” devices whose only purpose in the book is to quickly unravel a complication the protagonist doesn’t have the time to deal with. I know Sherrilyn can do better than to have a character show up in the last chapter, stay two pages and save the day all under the guise of “surprise, we had this up our sleeve all along.”
That, of course, is the great benefit of having a large cast: there’s always someone useful up your sleeve.
All in all, I’m still a fan :-) and I enjoyed this book. I was thrilled to come across Nick again. I hope he’s done whining and back on his way to being the smart ass who never took no crap from Ash.
Now, when do we hear from Aimee and her wolf?
I enjoyed this book. I’m a great fan … but … I would rather wait longer for a new book to come out than read one that feels rushed or underdeveloped. The rushed feeling wasn’t as prevalent in this one as in the last few (Acheron not included), but it was there, in the missing fluff and details. The build-up of conflict and tension is still there, but the steep angle at which it traditionally rises towards the dramatic conclusion feels far reduced. As if Sherrilyn only allowed herself one paragraph to deal with each emotion, hurdle, new clue, character, complication or whatever. What’s missing is depth.
I don’t think it helps that there are so many characters. Yes, this is a book about war, which necessitates a large cast, but I don’t think I’m meant to consult my notes to see who’s who, how they’re related and where they came from. The problem is that all these characters vie for my attention and steal time from the protagonists.
As a writer I can appreciate the need for and the benefit of a large cast, but as a reader I feel like secondary supporting characters are dangerously close to becoming “deus ex machina” devices whose only purpose in the book is to quickly unravel a complication the protagonist doesn’t have the time to deal with. I know Sherrilyn can do better than to have a character show up in the last chapter, stay two pages and save the day all under the guise of “surprise, we had this up our sleeve all along.”
That, of course, is the great benefit of having a large cast: there’s always someone useful up your sleeve.
All in all, I’m still a fan :-) and I enjoyed this book. I was thrilled to come across Nick again. I hope he’s done whining and back on his way to being the smart ass who never took no crap from Ash.
Now, when do we hear from Aimee and her wolf?
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Remember this? ...
Remember THE STALKER?
I decided to share the first chapter again. I mailed it out earlier. If there should have been one in your mailbox but there wasn't, please let me know and I'll make sure to update my mailing list.
As always, I welcome beta readers. Let me know if there's something you like or dislike. Writing is a lonely business and feedback is always welcome, especially if there's something that doesn't quite work and makes you scratch your head.
Happy Halloween.
***
THE STALKER
1.
Mason Ward’s cell phone buzzed to life on the built-in shelf next to his bed. Instantly awake, Mason grabbed it before it could wake the young man sleeping next to him. “Ward,” he grumbled. He didn’t have to be polite; according to his phone’s display it was 4:30 in the morning.
Silence greeted him.
Mason disconnected and dropped back onto his pillow. The air drifting in through the open ports over the bed was thick with the scent of Pacific and the relative chill of December. He inhaled deeply, resigned to the fact that he was now awake. Damn crank calls. He knew if he scrolled through his incoming calls, he’d find a local number that would eventually turn out to be a payphone. He hadn’t kept track of the first few calls, had barely even registered the hang-ups, but a half dozen or so calls later he knew the drill.
In no particular hurry to leave the bed, Mason rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. His lover slept on his stomach, face turned the other way. Mason knew Soren was naked under the rumpled sheet, but all he saw was a sliver of pale shoulder and a tousled mop of red hair. Slowly, so as not to disturb Soren’s sleep, Mason pulled the sheet down. His knuckles grazed his lover’s skin. The sheet out of his way, Mason splayed his hand across the small of Soren’s back. He loved the sight of his large, darkly tanned hand against Soren’s pale skin, the redhead’s body warm and smooth, the muscle underneath it firm.
Soren didn’t stir.
Mason ducked his head and pushed his nose into Soren’s hair. Too vain to let the sun bleach his glorious copper-colored hair, Soren often wore a baseball cap, but where his hair wasn’t protected—there was too much of it too long to fit—it was streaked with golden highlights. Mason loved the hair. His own close cropped, he appreciated the effort Soren took.
Phone call long forgotten, Mason inhaled a day and night’s worth of sweat and pushed his nose past the hair, until his lips grazed an ear, until his mouth found the column of a throat.
His hand slid under the sheet pooled over Soren’s hip. Like the rest of him, Soren’s cock was warm and lean. Mason let his hand slide down the shaft of Soren’s cock, brushed his knuckles past Soren’s balls. His palm traveled across the sensitive skin of Soren’s inner thigh and the redhead responded the way Mason had hoped, reflexively spreading his legs a tad wider.
When he looked up, Mason was greeted with the sight of a green eye glinting at him from under a tangle of hair. “Hmm,” he murmured, “good morning.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Mason chuckled. So much for the libido of youth. Of course, Soren had only just joined him in bed an hour or so ago. His bartending schedule already differed from Mason’s work hours, but the holiday season had them barely even in bed together these days.
Before Mason could change Soren’s mind about pre-dawn sex, his phone vibrated to life again. He cursed and snatched it up off the shelf. If he weren’t on call 24/7, he wouldn’t have answered. “Yes?”
Silence.
Mason bit back a second curse, caught Soren grinning from ear to ear, and slid out of bed. He pulled on his workout clothes, left the stateroom and headed to the galley where he dropped his phone on the counter. In the fridge, under the container of fruit salad he’d prepared the evening before, he found two bar napkins and a scrap of paper with phone numbers on it. He dropped the trophies on the counter next to his phone and went about his usual morning routine.
He hadn’t been an Army Ranger in five years, but he still exercised like one. Pushups. Situps. Chinups. Then the run. He walked down the long pier that separated his 58-foot trawler, The Sea Sprite, from dry land, hung a right out of the marina’s gate and headed south on Route 2, past Nimitz Beach Park. It was too early and too dark still for anyone else to be on the road. Even the roving bands of wild pig that usually foraged in the underbrush to either side of the road were still sleeping.
But the exercise didn’t have its usual calming effect on Mason. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his crank calls than the wish to annoy him. He returned to the marina drenched in sweat and no closer to figuring out his problem.
The Sea Sprite had a bathroom, of course, but Mason preferred to shower in the marina’s men’s locker room. It had taken him, his friend Ben and the cabinetmaker two years to gut, restore and reconfigure his trawler to Mason’s needs, but there was only so much room on a boat and he hadn’t allocated much to his bathroom. As much as he loved living on his boat—a lifestyle he’d chosen with some purpose—it was far more practical for him to use the facilities the marina offered. And so he kept toiletries and a set of work clothes in his assigned locker.
By the time he stepped out of the shower, he had a short mental list of people who hated his guts enough to get up at 4:30 in the morning and call him. He slung a towel around his hips and dragged another over his short hair. He pulled on a black pair of briefs and drew black cargo pants up over his hips, then opened the locker room door to let the steam and hot air escape into the early morning. He turned back and went to grab his black polo shirt from his locker, when a feminine voice intruded on his privacy.
“I bet even your sheets are black.”
Mason turned to find a young woman standing in the door. She was a foot shorter than his six-four, with square, bony shoulders and sharp-edged clavicles that were in stark contrast to the full roundness of her ample breasts. Her sun-bleached hair hung in a loose ponytail down her back. Her yellow tank top and jean shorts left more exposed than they covered. She leaned back against the open door that clearly said Men’s on it and smiled.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Mason’s brusque manner didn’t faze her, if anything her smile widened. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder. “Hi. I’m kinda new here and I have no idea where anything is. Where do I go for a good cup of coffee around here?”
Mason thought of the man sleeping in his bed. Soren would know down to the yard where the nearest coffee shop was. Soren would also get a kick out of this girl coming on to Mason.
“There’s a gas station with a convenience store up the road.”
“Not what I had in mind, but it’ll do.” She gave him a pretty pout. “I’m Halley. Like the comet. I’m on The Pacific Sun.” She jerked her chin in the directions of the piers.
Mason knew the boat. The 32-foot Pearson Vanguard was a classic little sailboat, but sadly unused these days. He wasn’t sure but he thought he’d heard that she was for sale.
“Mrs. Maria said I could stay on it, her, for a few days. You know, until after the holidays, and I can get into the dorms.”
Mason arched his dark brows. He didn’t think the barely-dressed Halley and the retired Catholic School teacher Maria San Nicholas moved in the same circles. This girl wouldn’t be the first squatter the marina had seen.
His skepticism must have been apparent, because Halley quickly added, “I’m studying to become a Spanish teacher. Did you know she taught High School Spanish for twenty-five years?”
He’d had an idea. “You’re at the U of G?”
“Sophomore.” Halley beamed and reached for her ponytail again. “I guess I better get going. I really need that coffee. Nice meeting you, Mason.” She gave him a little wave and trotted off.
Mason caught her use of his first name and shook his head. He’d give her a couple of days to figure out he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend. In the meantime, he’d give Mrs. San Nicholas a call to check out Halley’s story.
He returned to The Sea Sprite to find a cup of steaming brown rice tea and a note scrawled on the back of one of the bar napkins next to his phone. Call work ASAP. The tea made him smile. The note made him cringe.
He snatched up his phone, hit speed dial, and took the steps that led down from the galley to the narrow companionway that he followed to the bow of the Sprite. He gently pushed the door to the master stateroom open to see if his lover was still awake, but Soren was sleeping again, sprawled across green, pinstriped sheets.
When Lourdes Nakamura, Mason’s nightshift supervisor, answered her phone, Mason stepped back into the dark companionway. “You called?”
“Boss. We’ve got trouble.”
Mason groaned and dragged a hand through his hair. It was barely even Monday and already his day didn’t look so good “What’s up?”
“Graffiti. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Graffiti didn’t sound like something Lourdes couldn’t handle. The ex-Marine had been a bouncer in some of Guam’s rowdiest nightclubs before Mason had offered her a job on his staff. She was as capable as they came. Mason frowned.
“It’s all over the mall. And when I say all over, I mean all over. Check your phone, I’ve sent pictures.”
Mason thumbed through his phone’s menu and called up incoming files. “Christ.”
“So not the first word that came to my mind,” Lourdes admitted, a wry tone to her voice.
Mason felt like the Sea Sprite was suddenly pitching and rolling under his feet. He reached out a hand to steady himself as he scrolled through the files in his phone with the other. His stomach sank with each consecutive picture. Lourdes hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said “all over.” What little undecorated surface of the Tumon Bay Mall there had been was now covered with the rainbow-colored words “Pickle Kisser” next to the very grotesque rendering of a penis.
“I got the call around 4:30. I sent the mobile guys to check it out. It’s not just the mall. It’s all over the library on O’Brian Drive, the Tamuning post office, John F. Kennedy High School, and up and down Skinner Plaza. It’s not a random prank, is it?”
“No.” Mason wished it was, but he didn’t believe in coincidences of that magnitude. He stared at his phone, absently noting that each act of vandalism must have been committed by a different person. The slur was the same in every picture, but the handwriting was different, some words printed, some cursive, letters slanted left or right, some capitalized, some not. The penis spray-painted next to the words looked similar in each picture, though, as if the artists had worked from a template.
Mason went over the last few weeks of his life, trying to remember anything he might have done to provoke the wrath/contempt of a man he hadn’t seen in five years. He’d heard his fair share of whispered “fag” or “faggot,” but he’d never heard anyone else call him “pickle kisser” before or after Captain Tom Krukowski, the man who’d ended his military career.
But what reason would Krukowski have to come after him all these years later? The way he saw it, Mason had all the right in the world to carry a grudge. Krukowski’s witch hunt had almost cost him an honorable discharge from the military. Only timing had saved what very little had remained of his good name.
“Boss? You’re awfully quiet over there.”
“Just thinking.” Mason’s short list of enemies hadn’t even included Krukowski. Thirty minutes ago the man hadn’t been more than a distant, bad memory. Now he was what he had never wanted to be: the focus of Mason’s attention.
“Can you think while you drive?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Bring air freshener. Your life just got flushed down the toilet. The cops are here.”
***
I decided to share the first chapter again. I mailed it out earlier. If there should have been one in your mailbox but there wasn't, please let me know and I'll make sure to update my mailing list.
As always, I welcome beta readers. Let me know if there's something you like or dislike. Writing is a lonely business and feedback is always welcome, especially if there's something that doesn't quite work and makes you scratch your head.
Happy Halloween.
***
THE STALKER
1.
Mason Ward’s cell phone buzzed to life on the built-in shelf next to his bed. Instantly awake, Mason grabbed it before it could wake the young man sleeping next to him. “Ward,” he grumbled. He didn’t have to be polite; according to his phone’s display it was 4:30 in the morning.
Silence greeted him.
Mason disconnected and dropped back onto his pillow. The air drifting in through the open ports over the bed was thick with the scent of Pacific and the relative chill of December. He inhaled deeply, resigned to the fact that he was now awake. Damn crank calls. He knew if he scrolled through his incoming calls, he’d find a local number that would eventually turn out to be a payphone. He hadn’t kept track of the first few calls, had barely even registered the hang-ups, but a half dozen or so calls later he knew the drill.
In no particular hurry to leave the bed, Mason rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow. His lover slept on his stomach, face turned the other way. Mason knew Soren was naked under the rumpled sheet, but all he saw was a sliver of pale shoulder and a tousled mop of red hair. Slowly, so as not to disturb Soren’s sleep, Mason pulled the sheet down. His knuckles grazed his lover’s skin. The sheet out of his way, Mason splayed his hand across the small of Soren’s back. He loved the sight of his large, darkly tanned hand against Soren’s pale skin, the redhead’s body warm and smooth, the muscle underneath it firm.
Soren didn’t stir.
Mason ducked his head and pushed his nose into Soren’s hair. Too vain to let the sun bleach his glorious copper-colored hair, Soren often wore a baseball cap, but where his hair wasn’t protected—there was too much of it too long to fit—it was streaked with golden highlights. Mason loved the hair. His own close cropped, he appreciated the effort Soren took.
Phone call long forgotten, Mason inhaled a day and night’s worth of sweat and pushed his nose past the hair, until his lips grazed an ear, until his mouth found the column of a throat.
His hand slid under the sheet pooled over Soren’s hip. Like the rest of him, Soren’s cock was warm and lean. Mason let his hand slide down the shaft of Soren’s cock, brushed his knuckles past Soren’s balls. His palm traveled across the sensitive skin of Soren’s inner thigh and the redhead responded the way Mason had hoped, reflexively spreading his legs a tad wider.
When he looked up, Mason was greeted with the sight of a green eye glinting at him from under a tangle of hair. “Hmm,” he murmured, “good morning.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
Mason chuckled. So much for the libido of youth. Of course, Soren had only just joined him in bed an hour or so ago. His bartending schedule already differed from Mason’s work hours, but the holiday season had them barely even in bed together these days.
Before Mason could change Soren’s mind about pre-dawn sex, his phone vibrated to life again. He cursed and snatched it up off the shelf. If he weren’t on call 24/7, he wouldn’t have answered. “Yes?”
Silence.
Mason bit back a second curse, caught Soren grinning from ear to ear, and slid out of bed. He pulled on his workout clothes, left the stateroom and headed to the galley where he dropped his phone on the counter. In the fridge, under the container of fruit salad he’d prepared the evening before, he found two bar napkins and a scrap of paper with phone numbers on it. He dropped the trophies on the counter next to his phone and went about his usual morning routine.
He hadn’t been an Army Ranger in five years, but he still exercised like one. Pushups. Situps. Chinups. Then the run. He walked down the long pier that separated his 58-foot trawler, The Sea Sprite, from dry land, hung a right out of the marina’s gate and headed south on Route 2, past Nimitz Beach Park. It was too early and too dark still for anyone else to be on the road. Even the roving bands of wild pig that usually foraged in the underbrush to either side of the road were still sleeping.
But the exercise didn’t have its usual calming effect on Mason. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his crank calls than the wish to annoy him. He returned to the marina drenched in sweat and no closer to figuring out his problem.
The Sea Sprite had a bathroom, of course, but Mason preferred to shower in the marina’s men’s locker room. It had taken him, his friend Ben and the cabinetmaker two years to gut, restore and reconfigure his trawler to Mason’s needs, but there was only so much room on a boat and he hadn’t allocated much to his bathroom. As much as he loved living on his boat—a lifestyle he’d chosen with some purpose—it was far more practical for him to use the facilities the marina offered. And so he kept toiletries and a set of work clothes in his assigned locker.
By the time he stepped out of the shower, he had a short mental list of people who hated his guts enough to get up at 4:30 in the morning and call him. He slung a towel around his hips and dragged another over his short hair. He pulled on a black pair of briefs and drew black cargo pants up over his hips, then opened the locker room door to let the steam and hot air escape into the early morning. He turned back and went to grab his black polo shirt from his locker, when a feminine voice intruded on his privacy.
“I bet even your sheets are black.”
Mason turned to find a young woman standing in the door. She was a foot shorter than his six-four, with square, bony shoulders and sharp-edged clavicles that were in stark contrast to the full roundness of her ample breasts. Her sun-bleached hair hung in a loose ponytail down her back. Her yellow tank top and jean shorts left more exposed than they covered. She leaned back against the open door that clearly said Men’s on it and smiled.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
Mason’s brusque manner didn’t faze her, if anything her smile widened. She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder. “Hi. I’m kinda new here and I have no idea where anything is. Where do I go for a good cup of coffee around here?”
Mason thought of the man sleeping in his bed. Soren would know down to the yard where the nearest coffee shop was. Soren would also get a kick out of this girl coming on to Mason.
“There’s a gas station with a convenience store up the road.”
“Not what I had in mind, but it’ll do.” She gave him a pretty pout. “I’m Halley. Like the comet. I’m on The Pacific Sun.” She jerked her chin in the directions of the piers.
Mason knew the boat. The 32-foot Pearson Vanguard was a classic little sailboat, but sadly unused these days. He wasn’t sure but he thought he’d heard that she was for sale.
“Mrs. Maria said I could stay on it, her, for a few days. You know, until after the holidays, and I can get into the dorms.”
Mason arched his dark brows. He didn’t think the barely-dressed Halley and the retired Catholic School teacher Maria San Nicholas moved in the same circles. This girl wouldn’t be the first squatter the marina had seen.
His skepticism must have been apparent, because Halley quickly added, “I’m studying to become a Spanish teacher. Did you know she taught High School Spanish for twenty-five years?”
He’d had an idea. “You’re at the U of G?”
“Sophomore.” Halley beamed and reached for her ponytail again. “I guess I better get going. I really need that coffee. Nice meeting you, Mason.” She gave him a little wave and trotted off.
Mason caught her use of his first name and shook his head. He’d give her a couple of days to figure out he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend. In the meantime, he’d give Mrs. San Nicholas a call to check out Halley’s story.
He returned to The Sea Sprite to find a cup of steaming brown rice tea and a note scrawled on the back of one of the bar napkins next to his phone. Call work ASAP. The tea made him smile. The note made him cringe.
He snatched up his phone, hit speed dial, and took the steps that led down from the galley to the narrow companionway that he followed to the bow of the Sprite. He gently pushed the door to the master stateroom open to see if his lover was still awake, but Soren was sleeping again, sprawled across green, pinstriped sheets.
When Lourdes Nakamura, Mason’s nightshift supervisor, answered her phone, Mason stepped back into the dark companionway. “You called?”
“Boss. We’ve got trouble.”
Mason groaned and dragged a hand through his hair. It was barely even Monday and already his day didn’t look so good “What’s up?”
“Graffiti. Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Graffiti didn’t sound like something Lourdes couldn’t handle. The ex-Marine had been a bouncer in some of Guam’s rowdiest nightclubs before Mason had offered her a job on his staff. She was as capable as they came. Mason frowned.
“It’s all over the mall. And when I say all over, I mean all over. Check your phone, I’ve sent pictures.”
Mason thumbed through his phone’s menu and called up incoming files. “Christ.”
“So not the first word that came to my mind,” Lourdes admitted, a wry tone to her voice.
Mason felt like the Sea Sprite was suddenly pitching and rolling under his feet. He reached out a hand to steady himself as he scrolled through the files in his phone with the other. His stomach sank with each consecutive picture. Lourdes hadn’t exaggerated when she’d said “all over.” What little undecorated surface of the Tumon Bay Mall there had been was now covered with the rainbow-colored words “Pickle Kisser” next to the very grotesque rendering of a penis.
“I got the call around 4:30. I sent the mobile guys to check it out. It’s not just the mall. It’s all over the library on O’Brian Drive, the Tamuning post office, John F. Kennedy High School, and up and down Skinner Plaza. It’s not a random prank, is it?”
“No.” Mason wished it was, but he didn’t believe in coincidences of that magnitude. He stared at his phone, absently noting that each act of vandalism must have been committed by a different person. The slur was the same in every picture, but the handwriting was different, some words printed, some cursive, letters slanted left or right, some capitalized, some not. The penis spray-painted next to the words looked similar in each picture, though, as if the artists had worked from a template.
Mason went over the last few weeks of his life, trying to remember anything he might have done to provoke the wrath/contempt of a man he hadn’t seen in five years. He’d heard his fair share of whispered “fag” or “faggot,” but he’d never heard anyone else call him “pickle kisser” before or after Captain Tom Krukowski, the man who’d ended his military career.
But what reason would Krukowski have to come after him all these years later? The way he saw it, Mason had all the right in the world to carry a grudge. Krukowski’s witch hunt had almost cost him an honorable discharge from the military. Only timing had saved what very little had remained of his good name.
“Boss? You’re awfully quiet over there.”
“Just thinking.” Mason’s short list of enemies hadn’t even included Krukowski. Thirty minutes ago the man hadn’t been more than a distant, bad memory. Now he was what he had never wanted to be: the focus of Mason’s attention.
“Can you think while you drive?”
“I’m on my way.”
“Bring air freshener. Your life just got flushed down the toilet. The cops are here.”
***
Friday, October 24, 2008
Yours truly at the Great Manhattan Mystery Conclave
I just received my program for the 5th annual Great Manhattan Mystery Conclave (Oct 31 – Nov 02, 08) here in Manhattan, KS, and there it was, my name in black and white. How exciting is that? Not only is it my first conference, but it’s my first public appearance, complete with author signing and panel.
If you’re a reader, writer or fan and you live in the area, please feel free to stop by the Holiday Inn at 17th & Anderson Avenue. I’ll be there Friday night and most of the weekend. If you already have a copy of The Protector, it’s okay to bring it with you for me to sign. If not, there are some copies available for purchase. Author signings are on Friday, Oct 31, 5:30-6:30 pm, and at Saturday, Nov 1, 5-5:45 pm and after the banquet, 8-10pm.
Naturally, I know exactly how this is going to go down. I will show up on Friday at the gala reception looking ten pounds lighter and five years younger. I’ll be at a table with witty, clever writers whose books I’ve read. At least one of the people attending the reception will have read my book and gush over my beautiful, tropic setting, while absolutely adoring the sexy cover of the book. He or she will have their dog-eared copy ready for me to sign. I’ll take a few photos (looking ten pounds lighter and five years younger). I’ll have a great time and not worry at all about the panel I’m sitting on on Saturday morning. The panel itself will be well attended. My co-panelist, Norm Ledgin, and I will have the crowd spellbound. There will be plenty of audience questions and generous interest in our take on “Why We Write Mysteries.” The rest of the weekend will be filled with intelligent conversation, humor, the occasional great insight and adoring fans at the author signings.
In truth, I’ll probably look about the same I do right now (at least five years younger) and no one will whip out wallet-sized photos of their last vacation on Guam. The panel will be just fine. I’m going to be horribly nervous, wondering if I shouldn’t have invested in prescription strength deodorant versus the regular strength, but only the people in the front row will notice my nervous tick. Most of the people stopping by my table during the author signing will not have read my book or any other gay fiction. I’ll have the great opportunity to introduce and represent a new genre to these readers. A few might even be intrigued enough to give this new author a try.
You bet I’m going to spend all my spare time between now and then practicing my clever one-sentence pitch. If you’re an author and you thought writing a one-paragraph description of your novel in a query letter is difficult, try coming up with an interesting one-liner.
Wish me luck :-)
If you’re a reader, writer or fan and you live in the area, please feel free to stop by the Holiday Inn at 17th & Anderson Avenue. I’ll be there Friday night and most of the weekend. If you already have a copy of The Protector, it’s okay to bring it with you for me to sign. If not, there are some copies available for purchase. Author signings are on Friday, Oct 31, 5:30-6:30 pm, and at Saturday, Nov 1, 5-5:45 pm and after the banquet, 8-10pm.
Naturally, I know exactly how this is going to go down. I will show up on Friday at the gala reception looking ten pounds lighter and five years younger. I’ll be at a table with witty, clever writers whose books I’ve read. At least one of the people attending the reception will have read my book and gush over my beautiful, tropic setting, while absolutely adoring the sexy cover of the book. He or she will have their dog-eared copy ready for me to sign. I’ll take a few photos (looking ten pounds lighter and five years younger). I’ll have a great time and not worry at all about the panel I’m sitting on on Saturday morning. The panel itself will be well attended. My co-panelist, Norm Ledgin, and I will have the crowd spellbound. There will be plenty of audience questions and generous interest in our take on “Why We Write Mysteries.” The rest of the weekend will be filled with intelligent conversation, humor, the occasional great insight and adoring fans at the author signings.
In truth, I’ll probably look about the same I do right now (at least five years younger) and no one will whip out wallet-sized photos of their last vacation on Guam. The panel will be just fine. I’m going to be horribly nervous, wondering if I shouldn’t have invested in prescription strength deodorant versus the regular strength, but only the people in the front row will notice my nervous tick. Most of the people stopping by my table during the author signing will not have read my book or any other gay fiction. I’ll have the great opportunity to introduce and represent a new genre to these readers. A few might even be intrigued enough to give this new author a try.
You bet I’m going to spend all my spare time between now and then practicing my clever one-sentence pitch. If you’re an author and you thought writing a one-paragraph description of your novel in a query letter is difficult, try coming up with an interesting one-liner.
Wish me luck :-)
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Holy Smokes
I watched the two-hour premier of Crusoe last night. Talk about slashable TV, holy smokes. I loved it. The show wasn’t on my to-watch list, but I had a lazy evening and, boy, am I glad that I tuned in. I don’t think it’s the best new show of the season, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s the most fun/slashy to watch. Most noteworthy: the absence of women. I mean we’re talking deserted island here and two men devoted to each other. It can’t get much better than that.
On a sidenote: I had to read Robinson Crusoe in school and I don’t remember him having been married at all. But hey, the TV people had to get a female character in there somehow :-)
On a sidenote: I had to read Robinson Crusoe in school and I don’t remember him having been married at all. But hey, the TV people had to get a female character in there somehow :-)
Thursday, October 16, 2008
“Why I Write Mysteries” (part 2)
Yesterday I admitted to liking the chase better than the puzzle. Sure thing, ask anyone who knows me. My monkey mind doesn’t have the patience it takes to solve puzzles, play chess or tinker with things. So that’s why I chose suspense over traditional mysteries. But why this genre to begin with?
I like the relative freedom and flexibility of it. Within the very broad constraints that come with the mystery/suspense genre, I can pretty much do whatever I want. I can keep the plot simple or make it complicated. I can have a happy or sad ending. I don’t have to catch and convict my villain. I can let him live to perpetrate another, more heinous crime two books down the road. Indeed, I can have two books down the road, i.e. I can write a series (definite benefit, in my eyes). I can go into the villain’s head and have a look at his motivations and thought processes or I can surprise my readers with a traditional approach and not reveal anything until the very end. I can focus on the technical aspects of the crime itself or the people surrounding it. I don’t even need to have an actual crime. A threat is all it takes.
I have a lot of options and choices and that made this genre appear less formulaic than others (and this is a personal prejudice, not value judgment). In fact, I could see myself breaking a lot of the rules and still producing a viable product that sells, whereas I felt other genres would be far less forgiving.
Above all, though, I really liked the idea of writing a series, of revisiting with the same characters and setting again and again. I didn’t want to immerse myself in my character’s lives only to “abandom” them after a few short months and move on to the next set. I’m more of a long-term commitment kind of girl (and yep, I’ve been married 15 years now).
So why do I write mysteries?
- I have a healthy appreciation for bad guys and what makes them tick.
- I like the chase and the ensuing adventure.
- I appreciate the flexibility and freedom that comes with the genre.
Oh, and I’m too much of a wuss for horror, don’t personally care for aliens or space travel, and don’t really have the vocabulary for magical worlds :-)
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
“Why I Write Mysteries” (part 1)
I will attend the 5th annual Great Manhattan Mystery Conclave (Manhattan, KS) at the end of this month. My first conference, yay :-) I was even offered a spot on one of the panels. Then I realized yesterday that a) the end of the month is nearer than I thought and b) I need to prepare. If my information is still correct I’m sharing the panel with a few other writers new to the mystery genre. Subject of our panel: Why I Write Mysteries.
In all truthfulness and for the sake of accuracy: I don’t write mysteries. I write suspense.
The difference can be difficult to explain. I like to think of a mystery as a story in which some significant crime, usually a murder, has occurred. It is the protagonist’s job to find out who did the murdering and why and then catch the perp. It’s very reactive, in a way.
When I think suspense I think of the protagonist having to keep something from happening. It’s less about solving a puzzle from the past and more about preventing a future crime and saving the day in the process.
You can see how that can get complicated :-) The lines that separate the genres are fluid and often crossed.
I can’t say I sat down one day and decided to write in the mystery/suspense field. Rather I wrote and wrote and tried out different genres and eventually realized that all my half-finished efforts had something in common: villains and the need to foil their plans or escape their clutches. For me, it was never about catching the bad guy, it was always about staying ahead of him. My hero’s main goal is to stay alive not to solve the how and why of things (that’s what his friends do off stage). And that’s why I write suspense, not traditional mysteries.
In all truthfulness and for the sake of accuracy: I don’t write mysteries. I write suspense.
The difference can be difficult to explain. I like to think of a mystery as a story in which some significant crime, usually a murder, has occurred. It is the protagonist’s job to find out who did the murdering and why and then catch the perp. It’s very reactive, in a way.
When I think suspense I think of the protagonist having to keep something from happening. It’s less about solving a puzzle from the past and more about preventing a future crime and saving the day in the process.
You can see how that can get complicated :-) The lines that separate the genres are fluid and often crossed.
I can’t say I sat down one day and decided to write in the mystery/suspense field. Rather I wrote and wrote and tried out different genres and eventually realized that all my half-finished efforts had something in common: villains and the need to foil their plans or escape their clutches. For me, it was never about catching the bad guy, it was always about staying ahead of him. My hero’s main goal is to stay alive not to solve the how and why of things (that’s what his friends do off stage). And that’s why I write suspense, not traditional mysteries.
Misconception of the Day
Some of my students wrote a letter to a school for the deaf today. There was a short discussion about whether or not their teacher would have to translate our letter into sign language so the deaf kids would understand.
I am happy to report that I dispelled that particular myth: Deaf people read plain old regular English. They write plain old regular English. The oral deaf speak regular plain old English [“speak” as in “use their voice or talk”].
There’s another common myth for you: Deaf people are NOT mute. Some may choose not to use their voice, but that doesn’t mean they are incapable of talking. It’s a choice and a perfectly reasonable one at that.
Not all deaf people read lips.
Not all blind people read Braille.
I am happy to report that I dispelled that particular myth: Deaf people read plain old regular English. They write plain old regular English. The oral deaf speak regular plain old English [“speak” as in “use their voice or talk”].
There’s another common myth for you: Deaf people are NOT mute. Some may choose not to use their voice, but that doesn’t mean they are incapable of talking. It’s a choice and a perfectly reasonable one at that.
Not all deaf people read lips.
Not all blind people read Braille.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Updates and upgrades
I’ve updated my website. Whoohoo. Go ahead, have a look.
I’d like to think of myself as savvy when it comes to the Internet, but I have no clue, none whatsoever, when it comes to websites. I’m at the mercy of tech support. I think I did a pretty good job, if I may say so myself. I’m not 100% happy yet, but I can certainly live with the results for now.
I’ve also joined Facebook. I’d love to give you a link, but I haven’t figured that one out yet. Whenever I link, I end up sending people to my personal sign-in page and that’s not where I want to send you. Any thoughts?
Also, I refreshed my information on MySpace.
I’d like to think of myself as savvy when it comes to the Internet, but I have no clue, none whatsoever, when it comes to websites. I’m at the mercy of tech support. I think I did a pretty good job, if I may say so myself. I’m not 100% happy yet, but I can certainly live with the results for now.
I’ve also joined Facebook. I’d love to give you a link, but I haven’t figured that one out yet. Whenever I link, I end up sending people to my personal sign-in page and that’s not where I want to send you. Any thoughts?
Also, I refreshed my information on MySpace.
"Death of a Pirate King"
I finished reading Josh Lanyon’s latest Adrien English mystery, Death of a Pirate King, and I LOVED the book (thanks, Ella, for pestering me to make time to read).
I’m a big fan of Adrien. It was good to see his harder side – no pun intended – but I don’t get the fan talk about his fear of commitment. Last I checked “fear of commitment” meant avoidance of long-term relationships. Didn’t Adrien just spent two years with Guy? They clearly had a committed, monogamous relationship. A comfortable, satisfying relationship. But there’s a difference between “good relationship” and “rest of your life relationship.” Guy just wasn’t the one and Adrien knew that. And, come on, do you really want Adrien to end up with Guy?
Will he ever end up with Jake? Maybe. Maybe not. Jake has his own issues. I do wonder how much of a knee-jerk reaction Jake’s coming out was. (By the way, that man has serious commitment issues and he married, which just goes to show that marrying or hanging on to a comfortable relationship has nothing to do with true commitment of the heart.)
Anyway, I loved the book and I recommend it to any fan of gay mysteries or good writing (even those, like myself, who do not generally enjoy the first-person point of view).
I’m a big fan of Adrien. It was good to see his harder side – no pun intended – but I don’t get the fan talk about his fear of commitment. Last I checked “fear of commitment” meant avoidance of long-term relationships. Didn’t Adrien just spent two years with Guy? They clearly had a committed, monogamous relationship. A comfortable, satisfying relationship. But there’s a difference between “good relationship” and “rest of your life relationship.” Guy just wasn’t the one and Adrien knew that. And, come on, do you really want Adrien to end up with Guy?
Will he ever end up with Jake? Maybe. Maybe not. Jake has his own issues. I do wonder how much of a knee-jerk reaction Jake’s coming out was. (By the way, that man has serious commitment issues and he married, which just goes to show that marrying or hanging on to a comfortable relationship has nothing to do with true commitment of the heart.)
Anyway, I loved the book and I recommend it to any fan of gay mysteries or good writing (even those, like myself, who do not generally enjoy the first-person point of view).
Monday, September 29, 2008
Relationships are a mystery to me, too
So I went to the mall last weekend to get the latest Cindy Gerard [got it, read it, loved it]. As I am wont to do I looked to see if the store carried my book. They didn’t. In fact, this is a conversation I had with one of the clerks:
Me: I couldn’t help noticing that you don’t have a Gay/Lesbian Fiction section, do you?
Clerk: No. But those kinds of books are in with Relationships.
Me: Really? Even the mysteries?
Clerk: [blank look]
She was so completely baffled that I didn’t press the issue. Poor woman. I think I might have done something irreversible to her view of the literary world. Gay and lesbian mysteries? Who would have thought?
Me: I couldn’t help noticing that you don’t have a Gay/Lesbian Fiction section, do you?
Clerk: No. But those kinds of books are in with Relationships.
Me: Really? Even the mysteries?
Clerk: [blank look]
She was so completely baffled that I didn’t press the issue. Poor woman. I think I might have done something irreversible to her view of the literary world. Gay and lesbian mysteries? Who would have thought?
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
Ready, set, go
I’m back at work on THE STALKER.
I started last night by reading over the few chapters and scenes I have already. I like what I have—it’s a first draft, of course, so it’s not perfect, but I’m just so very glad that this story is finally coming together for me. I’ve been working on it forever. I worked on it long before I started writing on it. And I gave up writing it twice. Some of you know, because you’ve read both those drafts … :-)
Good things come in threes, right?
Make sure to drop me an e-mail/comment if you’d like to be in my group of beta readers. I love beta readers. I like comments and feedback during that first round of writing. Sometimes I’m not sure of something and readers just love it and sometimes I’m pretty sure I did something well and readers hate it. I’d much rather rewrite and rethink in the beginning stages, trust me.
I’m not just back at work on THE STALKER, I’m also back at work in real life. I started working a regular, full-time job in education last month. This does two things to/for my writing: 1) severely limits my writing time and 2) focuses my efforts to get the most out of that limited time.
These are the same conditions I wrote THE PROTECTOR under, so I’m not worried. It seems I actually get more done having less time on my hands.
There’s plenty to do:
- Write at least one chapter of THE STALKER a week
- Overhaul my website or find someone to do it for me (I’m having issues with my site provider and the technical aspect of the website, ugh)
- Feed family, cats, fish, and lizard regularly
- Watch at least some of the new shows on TV
- Read each of the new Cindy Gerard books coming before Christmas
- Keep up with web groups and return e-mails in a timely fashion
Friday, August 01, 2008
Toto, we’re in Kansas
We’ve arrived. After weeks of living out of a suitcase and bedding down in five different places, we’re ready to move into our new home next week. I can’t wait. I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’m sick of eating out. I’m actually craving healthy food and that’s almost disturbing. Also, I gained five pounds (I had an official weigh-in of sorts this week), which really isn’t that bad considering my diet the last few weeks.
Thus far, I like Kansas. Yes, you’ve read that right, I like Kansas. It’s been a bit hot for my taste – in the 100s every day – and we’ve survived our first Tornado watch, but I can’t see much wrong with this place (yet). The gas is cheaper, the grass is greener, and they have three bookstores in town that I know of (boy, I’ve done a ton of reading since we left Hawaii). It’s really not all that flat around here either; we’re surrounded by the rolling Flint Hills and plenty of trees.
Once we move into our new house next week and a working Internet connection is established I’ll be back to a productive routine in no time. I promise I’ll answer e-mails and friend requests in a timely manner.
To those of you who’ve bought The Protector and wrote to tell me how much you’ve enjoyed reading the book, THANK YOU. I appreciate the chance you took on a debut author and I love that you found the time to drop me a line.
To those of you who asked about the next book (in the series), THANK YOU. As you may or may not know, I started working on the next book before my move, but my efforts stalled. Boy, I completely underestimated the complexity of this move. For some reason it was far more complicated to move back on the mainland than it was to move to Japan and Hawaii. I’ll be back to work on the next book once all the moving boxes are unpacked and the computer is hooked up (or at the end of next week).
I’m also in the process of finishing up my first ever Vampire-Shapeshifter short (remember Riley, the deaf weasel?).
Oh, I almost forgot, back in New York, I had lunch with Laura Baumbach. Thanks again, Laura. I had the greatest time, and hey, I hadn’t eaten at an Olive Garden in eight years. Laura is a great conversationalist, and I’m such a fan. Now I just have to wow her with my sexy vampire short.
Back to my just as sexy sophomore effort, THE STALKER. I received a few e-mails asking about The Dickens Challenge and where the chapters went that I had posted. If you’re interested in reading along as I write (at your own risk), please drop me a line with your e-mail address and I’ll make sure to included you in my list of beta readers. Keep in mind, though, that you’ll be reading a first draft, your favorite scene might not survive the final editing process and won’t see the inside of the finished book.
Ideally, I’d love to see THE STALKER in stores right after Christmas and the New Year, some time in January or February. Not for some nefarious reason, but just because Mason and Soren survive their first holidays together in this book.
Realistically, though, I’m a slow writer and there’s still plenty of work to be done once the book is written and Christmas is only 146 days away.
And there’s so much more reading to be done this year, too. I love reading. I’m a reader before I’m a writer. I can’t wait for BREAKING DAWN, the feverishly anticipated fourth installment in Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga. And the movie in December!
And of course, I can’t wait to get my hands on ACHERON by Sherrilyn Kenyon. I love her Darkhunter universe. I’m especially partial to her Werehunters, and I’m wondering how long it will take her to incorporate a badass, leather-wearing were-weasel into one of her books.
I’m also highly anticipating the arrival of the men of Black’s Ops, Inc. Cindy Gerard’s new series will debut in October 08, November 08 and January 09.
And when does TRUEBLOOD start on HBO? We don’t have HBO that I know of, but I’d love to see the new series based on Charlaine Harris’s Sookie books.
Boy, I’ll be busy this year. Don’t forget to drop me a line with your e-mail address and I’ll keep you in the loop about upcoming chapters and the occasional personal appearance at the Coffeeshop Writers, a group of greatly talented ladies who’ve invited me to stop by and have a cup of coffee with them.
Thus far, I like Kansas. Yes, you’ve read that right, I like Kansas. It’s been a bit hot for my taste – in the 100s every day – and we’ve survived our first Tornado watch, but I can’t see much wrong with this place (yet). The gas is cheaper, the grass is greener, and they have three bookstores in town that I know of (boy, I’ve done a ton of reading since we left Hawaii). It’s really not all that flat around here either; we’re surrounded by the rolling Flint Hills and plenty of trees.
Once we move into our new house next week and a working Internet connection is established I’ll be back to a productive routine in no time. I promise I’ll answer e-mails and friend requests in a timely manner.
To those of you who’ve bought The Protector and wrote to tell me how much you’ve enjoyed reading the book, THANK YOU. I appreciate the chance you took on a debut author and I love that you found the time to drop me a line.
To those of you who asked about the next book (in the series), THANK YOU. As you may or may not know, I started working on the next book before my move, but my efforts stalled. Boy, I completely underestimated the complexity of this move. For some reason it was far more complicated to move back on the mainland than it was to move to Japan and Hawaii. I’ll be back to work on the next book once all the moving boxes are unpacked and the computer is hooked up (or at the end of next week).
I’m also in the process of finishing up my first ever Vampire-Shapeshifter short (remember Riley, the deaf weasel?).
Oh, I almost forgot, back in New York, I had lunch with Laura Baumbach. Thanks again, Laura. I had the greatest time, and hey, I hadn’t eaten at an Olive Garden in eight years. Laura is a great conversationalist, and I’m such a fan. Now I just have to wow her with my sexy vampire short.
Back to my just as sexy sophomore effort, THE STALKER. I received a few e-mails asking about The Dickens Challenge and where the chapters went that I had posted. If you’re interested in reading along as I write (at your own risk), please drop me a line with your e-mail address and I’ll make sure to included you in my list of beta readers. Keep in mind, though, that you’ll be reading a first draft, your favorite scene might not survive the final editing process and won’t see the inside of the finished book.
Ideally, I’d love to see THE STALKER in stores right after Christmas and the New Year, some time in January or February. Not for some nefarious reason, but just because Mason and Soren survive their first holidays together in this book.
Realistically, though, I’m a slow writer and there’s still plenty of work to be done once the book is written and Christmas is only 146 days away.
And there’s so much more reading to be done this year, too. I love reading. I’m a reader before I’m a writer. I can’t wait for BREAKING DAWN, the feverishly anticipated fourth installment in Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga. And the movie in December!
And of course, I can’t wait to get my hands on ACHERON by Sherrilyn Kenyon. I love her Darkhunter universe. I’m especially partial to her Werehunters, and I’m wondering how long it will take her to incorporate a badass, leather-wearing were-weasel into one of her books.
I’m also highly anticipating the arrival of the men of Black’s Ops, Inc. Cindy Gerard’s new series will debut in October 08, November 08 and January 09.
And when does TRUEBLOOD start on HBO? We don’t have HBO that I know of, but I’d love to see the new series based on Charlaine Harris’s Sookie books.
Boy, I’ll be busy this year. Don’t forget to drop me a line with your e-mail address and I’ll keep you in the loop about upcoming chapters and the occasional personal appearance at the Coffeeshop Writers, a group of greatly talented ladies who’ve invited me to stop by and have a cup of coffee with them.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Out of touch
Dear readers, fans and friends. As you may or may not know I’m in the process of moving from lovely, sunny Hawaii to the American heartland, which is why I’ve been so slow in returning mails and posting news. Please bear with me. Come August we should be settled in and starting our new routines in Kansas. Until then …
Friday, May 02, 2008
Interviewed!
I’ve been interviewed. The always fun Neil Plakcy, author of Mahu, Mahu Surfer, and Mahu Fire, mystery novels set in Hawaii, has a roundtable interview on gaywired.com. Check it out here:
http://www.gaywired.com/Article.cfm?Section=67&ID=18819
It was very interesting to see what the other ladies had to say. I'm humbled to be in their company.
http://www.gaywired.com/Article.cfm?Section=67&ID=18819
It was very interesting to see what the other ladies had to say. I'm humbled to be in their company.
I’ve been tagged
Thanks, Debby (Type M For Murder, http://typem4murder.blogspot.com).
The idea is to reach for the nearest book, turn to page 123, find the 5th sentence, and then post the next 3 sentences on your blog or website or wherever. Sure thing. Only, I’m in the middle of organizing my “library” and I’m surrounded by all my books. The nearest pile is an eclectic mix of Tom Clancy, Nora Roberts, Dean James, and Anne Rice. The topmost book, though, is Lost & Found by Jayne Ann Krentz. I’m very sorry, Jayne, but I can’t remember the book at all. It must have been good, because it’s in my library.
Here page 123, 6th sentence and on:
“Another case displayed gleaming sixteenth-century boxes made of chiseled steel damascened with gold. They had been produced by the same master craftsmen who had forged swords and armor. Jewelry boxes etched and nielloed in impossibly convoluted motifs and studded with semiprecious stones were arranged on the shelves above the balcony level.”
Oi. I have no idea what damascened or nielloed are (well, I can figure it out from the context, but they’re certainly not words I’d ever use.)
That was fun. And I’m curious about the book now. I might have to reread it. Not that I have any time, because I’m in the middle of preparing our move.
We’ve finally received our orders. Yay. It took us several hours and a lot of hand-wringing, but we’ve received our flight arrangements as well. Flying with a pet is a complicated issue—especially in the summer. Luckily, we’re only flying at night, so heat won’t be an issue (I hope).
In case you’re curious how to get from Hawaii to Kansas: fly from Honolulu to Chicago, drive to upstate NY to rest with relatives for a little while, drive back to Chicago, then fly to KS. And if you’d like to have your own car back, travel to 670 miles east to St. Louis and pick it up there…
Oh, and I’m tagging the entire gang at GWR (gaywritersreader at yahoo groups) and everyone who reads this. I’m sure one or two of you have a book with a page 123 :-)
The idea is to reach for the nearest book, turn to page 123, find the 5th sentence, and then post the next 3 sentences on your blog or website or wherever. Sure thing. Only, I’m in the middle of organizing my “library” and I’m surrounded by all my books. The nearest pile is an eclectic mix of Tom Clancy, Nora Roberts, Dean James, and Anne Rice. The topmost book, though, is Lost & Found by Jayne Ann Krentz. I’m very sorry, Jayne, but I can’t remember the book at all. It must have been good, because it’s in my library.
Here page 123, 6th sentence and on:
“Another case displayed gleaming sixteenth-century boxes made of chiseled steel damascened with gold. They had been produced by the same master craftsmen who had forged swords and armor. Jewelry boxes etched and nielloed in impossibly convoluted motifs and studded with semiprecious stones were arranged on the shelves above the balcony level.”
Oi. I have no idea what damascened or nielloed are (well, I can figure it out from the context, but they’re certainly not words I’d ever use.)
That was fun. And I’m curious about the book now. I might have to reread it. Not that I have any time, because I’m in the middle of preparing our move.
We’ve finally received our orders. Yay. It took us several hours and a lot of hand-wringing, but we’ve received our flight arrangements as well. Flying with a pet is a complicated issue—especially in the summer. Luckily, we’re only flying at night, so heat won’t be an issue (I hope).
In case you’re curious how to get from Hawaii to Kansas: fly from Honolulu to Chicago, drive to upstate NY to rest with relatives for a little while, drive back to Chicago, then fly to KS. And if you’d like to have your own car back, travel to 670 miles east to St. Louis and pick it up there…
Oh, and I’m tagging the entire gang at GWR (gaywritersreader at yahoo groups) and everyone who reads this. I’m sure one or two of you have a book with a page 123 :-)
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Are you kidding me?
I’m finally at peace with the whole no-orders-yet deal and then had to ruin it all by looking up the passport renewal information at the German Consulate’s website. Since March 2008, all passport applicants are required to show up in person. No exceptions. Great! Just great. The consulate I’d have to visit is located in San Francisco, CA.
I have to travel 2400 miles or 3900 km to get a passport!? That’s five hours in an airplane!
I have to travel 2400 miles or 3900 km to get a passport!? That’s five hours in an airplane!
Thursday, April 24, 2008
New York here I come
Life is good this week. I found out another 192 books were ordered, amazon.com still loves me, the good people of Boston enjoy reading, and I might have a book signing in New York City (how super cool is that?)
I immediately went out to get a haircut, which I didn’t like. Then straightened my hair, which I liked even less. Had my teeth professionally cleaned and checked (no cavities, yay!) and went back to get more hair chopped off. Incidentally, the kids had their teeth checked and their hair cut, too. (Of course all of those were appointments I booked some time ago, but it’s more fun to pretend they’re all connected to my good news.)
My firstborn, bless her heart, was absolutely, positively terrified of her dentist. She’ll have to go to a specialist who can sedate her. Poor baby. I’m not sure why she’s so afraid, she’s never had a bad experience that I know of, though, she complains of her dentist being sassy (i.e. the woman tells her what to do, which doesn’t go over so well).
I wrote some more angry vampire and watched that Marlee Matlin movie on TV Sunday night. Oh, the TV died on us last week, but we convinced it to hold on another fifty days or so. I’m anxious about our move, because we still have no official paperwork and there is a lot to be done, but I’m nearing the point where terror turns into numbness.
How awesome is that about a possible book signing in New York City? I need an outfit. My wardrobe consists of shorts and T-shirts and Birkenstock sandals. I’m all Hawaiian casual. What does one wear in New York City in the summer? Do I need shoes? Or a purse? Can I get an intervention from those two people on What Not To Wear?
In two weeks or so, the husband and I are going to a romantic luau. I told my good friend Andrea who immediately called one of those cosmetic stores that does make-up and set me up with an appointment. I haven’t worn make-up in two years. I wear make-up once a year: for the Army Christmas Ball. And last year we didn’t go to the ball. When I say I wear make-up, I mean I brush on some powder, swipe on mascara and dab on lipstick. Voila!
Stacy and Clinton, I need help, because I might have a book signing in New York City!
I immediately went out to get a haircut, which I didn’t like. Then straightened my hair, which I liked even less. Had my teeth professionally cleaned and checked (no cavities, yay!) and went back to get more hair chopped off. Incidentally, the kids had their teeth checked and their hair cut, too. (Of course all of those were appointments I booked some time ago, but it’s more fun to pretend they’re all connected to my good news.)
My firstborn, bless her heart, was absolutely, positively terrified of her dentist. She’ll have to go to a specialist who can sedate her. Poor baby. I’m not sure why she’s so afraid, she’s never had a bad experience that I know of, though, she complains of her dentist being sassy (i.e. the woman tells her what to do, which doesn’t go over so well).
I wrote some more angry vampire and watched that Marlee Matlin movie on TV Sunday night. Oh, the TV died on us last week, but we convinced it to hold on another fifty days or so. I’m anxious about our move, because we still have no official paperwork and there is a lot to be done, but I’m nearing the point where terror turns into numbness.
How awesome is that about a possible book signing in New York City? I need an outfit. My wardrobe consists of shorts and T-shirts and Birkenstock sandals. I’m all Hawaiian casual. What does one wear in New York City in the summer? Do I need shoes? Or a purse? Can I get an intervention from those two people on What Not To Wear?
In two weeks or so, the husband and I are going to a romantic luau. I told my good friend Andrea who immediately called one of those cosmetic stores that does make-up and set me up with an appointment. I haven’t worn make-up in two years. I wear make-up once a year: for the Army Christmas Ball. And last year we didn’t go to the ball. When I say I wear make-up, I mean I brush on some powder, swipe on mascara and dab on lipstick. Voila!
Stacy and Clinton, I need help, because I might have a book signing in New York City!
Friday, April 18, 2008
Saturday, April 05, 2008
the therianthrope
Riley is his human form looks remarkably like Alex Lundqvist, the Swedish supermodel. In his animal form, Riley is a stoat (or short-tailed weasel) and in ermine (i.e. in the white winter fur).
Monday, March 24, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
The weasel familiar
Life works in mysterious ways. When Riley, the deaf weasel familiar, was “born,” I knew almost nothing about familiars. The vast majority of urban fantasies I’ve read dealt with large animals such as werewolves or werecats, which was partly why I decided on a much smaller animal (it’s my contrary nature).
I've since learned that the weasel has a bad reputation, but what surprised me the most was the basic notion of the weasel as the power animal of silent observation.
“Sly and stealthy, with keen observation skills.”
“Weasel medicine can teach you to find out secrets through the power of silent observation.”
“Most weasel people are loners, graceful, solitary, and silent.”
I will post a lot more about Riley as I'm getting to know him better. He's by far the most interesting and most challenging character I've ever worked with. Like many hearing people, I take my speech and the noises around me for granted. I have a few notions about life as a deaf person, but no real clue what it’s actually like. Riley is a wonderful ambassador, giving us a chance to discover life through his eyes and from his point of view.
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Introducing: Riley
This little guy is Riley.Riley is a stoat a.k.a. a short-tailed weasel. He’s a familiar (you know, like a witch’s black cat). He also has profound sensorineural deafness (he’s completely deaf), which makes him a challenge to write, because there is no dialogue in the traditional sense. Not that that bothers Riley in the least, he’s a very opinionated young man and has plenty to say.
Riley stole all my time the last two weeks. I learned about the differences between stoats and weasels and spent hours looking at sign language clips on youtube. Riley uses American Sign Language (ASL), but I found a British Sign Language (BSL) video I really love. Click here. Watch it at least once with the sound muted.
Also, when you're over there on youtube, check out Keith Wann; he's very funny.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
THE STALKER 5 (Dickens Challenge)
My last public chapter:
5.
Halley didn’t understand why people would dream all their lives about living on a boat. The Pacific Sun was pretty enough from the outside, but hardly the size of a walk-in closet on the inside. Speaking of closets, there weren’t any. Since all she had was a suitcase full of clothes, she was okay with the drawer under the one narrow bunk, but it was a tight fit.
Halley pushed aside the tank tops she’d tossed on her bunk earlier and flopped down on the thin mattress. Despite the westerly tradewinds, it was hot and humid, so much so her hair was either a frizzy mop or a sorry, lank mess. Still, she preferred the privacy of her sweltering cabin to the sunbaked deck where anyone within earshot could overhear the conversation she was about to have.
She eyed the cell phone in her hand with reluctance. She really needed to call home and check in with her mother, but she didn’t look forward to their talk. There would be tears, and Halley hated it when her mother cried. She just hoped her sister wasn’t around to answer the phone.
“Hello. Hello?”
Halley suppressed a sigh. Of course, her sister would answer the phone. She’d probably been at their mother’s house since Halley’s somewhat clandestine departure (with her sister’s passport).
“Jess, it’s Halley.”
“Where are you? Mom has been crying all day. I can’t keep coming over here, you know.”
“I told you I was going on a trip over the holidays.”
“Right.”
“Can I talk to mom now?”
“Where are you?”
“Guam.”
“What in God’s name are you doing on Guam? You know how hard it is for mom this time of year. Does this have anything to do with that man?”
“Tell mom I called.” Halley disconnected before her sister had a chance to lecture her. They didn’t see eye to eye on this. Of course, Halley knew how her mother struggled, how she grieved for her husband. Halley had been there when her mother had found the lifeless body of her husband, his head an unrecognizable, bloody mess from the large caliber bullet he’d used to escape his shame. She could still hear her mother’s anguished wails.
And she’d been there every day since, watching her mother’s will to live slip away bit by bit, her pain and spirit dulled by medication, weeping for hours and days. In all fairness, Jessica who had her own family to take of had done her best in the beginning, but eventually her visits became less and less frequent, admitting to Halley that their mother’s depression was too difficult for her to witness.
Then the package had arrived. A small mailer from Guam, addressed to her father, souvenirs inside. The vacationing soldier must not have known that his former supervisor had taken his life the year before. Halley had locked herself away in her closet to open the small box. She’d never looked past the folded newspaper page on top. On it a name and picture. Mason Ward.
She’d shown Jess the article. The paper had glorified his heroism as if he could ever be more than a has-been who’d never washed out of the military for his cowardly lies. Jess hadn’t understood, but Halley knew that it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Mason Ward had taken a bullet on the first anniversary of her father’s death. She’d known right then and there what she needed to do. For her mother’s piece of mind and her father’s honor.
Jess didn’t understand, because she hadn’t seen the spark of life in their mother’s eyes when Halley had promised to bring the man who’d caused their father’s suicide to justice, to expose him once and for all for what he was.
5.
Halley didn’t understand why people would dream all their lives about living on a boat. The Pacific Sun was pretty enough from the outside, but hardly the size of a walk-in closet on the inside. Speaking of closets, there weren’t any. Since all she had was a suitcase full of clothes, she was okay with the drawer under the one narrow bunk, but it was a tight fit.
Halley pushed aside the tank tops she’d tossed on her bunk earlier and flopped down on the thin mattress. Despite the westerly tradewinds, it was hot and humid, so much so her hair was either a frizzy mop or a sorry, lank mess. Still, she preferred the privacy of her sweltering cabin to the sunbaked deck where anyone within earshot could overhear the conversation she was about to have.
She eyed the cell phone in her hand with reluctance. She really needed to call home and check in with her mother, but she didn’t look forward to their talk. There would be tears, and Halley hated it when her mother cried. She just hoped her sister wasn’t around to answer the phone.
“Hello. Hello?”
Halley suppressed a sigh. Of course, her sister would answer the phone. She’d probably been at their mother’s house since Halley’s somewhat clandestine departure (with her sister’s passport).
“Jess, it’s Halley.”
“Where are you? Mom has been crying all day. I can’t keep coming over here, you know.”
“I told you I was going on a trip over the holidays.”
“Right.”
“Can I talk to mom now?”
“Where are you?”
“Guam.”
“What in God’s name are you doing on Guam? You know how hard it is for mom this time of year. Does this have anything to do with that man?”
“Tell mom I called.” Halley disconnected before her sister had a chance to lecture her. They didn’t see eye to eye on this. Of course, Halley knew how her mother struggled, how she grieved for her husband. Halley had been there when her mother had found the lifeless body of her husband, his head an unrecognizable, bloody mess from the large caliber bullet he’d used to escape his shame. She could still hear her mother’s anguished wails.
And she’d been there every day since, watching her mother’s will to live slip away bit by bit, her pain and spirit dulled by medication, weeping for hours and days. In all fairness, Jessica who had her own family to take of had done her best in the beginning, but eventually her visits became less and less frequent, admitting to Halley that their mother’s depression was too difficult for her to witness.
Then the package had arrived. A small mailer from Guam, addressed to her father, souvenirs inside. The vacationing soldier must not have known that his former supervisor had taken his life the year before. Halley had locked herself away in her closet to open the small box. She’d never looked past the folded newspaper page on top. On it a name and picture. Mason Ward.
She’d shown Jess the article. The paper had glorified his heroism as if he could ever be more than a has-been who’d never washed out of the military for his cowardly lies. Jess hadn’t understood, but Halley knew that it couldn’t have been a coincidence that Mason Ward had taken a bullet on the first anniversary of her father’s death. She’d known right then and there what she needed to do. For her mother’s piece of mind and her father’s honor.
Jess didn’t understand, because she hadn’t seen the spark of life in their mother’s eyes when Halley had promised to bring the man who’d caused their father’s suicide to justice, to expose him once and for all for what he was.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Ugh ...
I’m struggling.
As you may or may not know, I’ve been struggling with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome for well over a decade now. It comes and goes. It flares up. The most debilitating symptom for me as a writer is the brain fog that accompanies a flare-up.
Brain fog is a mental fatigue that makes it difficult to process information. It impairs concentration, memory, and word retrieval. According to wikipedia, brain fog “is so named because the sufferer can feel like a cloud literally surrounds him or her that reduces the speed at which things can be recognized or clearly seen.”
Ayep.
Add physical lack of energy to this mental sluggishness and drowsiness and there’s very little wonder depression is one of the side effects people have to deal with.
So I’m in a funk, and I’m struggling with it. I know these flare-ups don’t last, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with. And honestly, after two weeks of moping around the house, I’m sick of it. I want my brain back.
Check out these links for more on fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue:
CFIDS Association of America
Fibromyalgia Network
National Fibromyalgia Association
As you may or may not know, I’ve been struggling with fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome for well over a decade now. It comes and goes. It flares up. The most debilitating symptom for me as a writer is the brain fog that accompanies a flare-up.
Brain fog is a mental fatigue that makes it difficult to process information. It impairs concentration, memory, and word retrieval. According to wikipedia, brain fog “is so named because the sufferer can feel like a cloud literally surrounds him or her that reduces the speed at which things can be recognized or clearly seen.”
Ayep.
Add physical lack of energy to this mental sluggishness and drowsiness and there’s very little wonder depression is one of the side effects people have to deal with.
So I’m in a funk, and I’m struggling with it. I know these flare-ups don’t last, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with. And honestly, after two weeks of moping around the house, I’m sick of it. I want my brain back.
Check out these links for more on fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue:
CFIDS Association of America
Fibromyalgia Network
National Fibromyalgia Association
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
THE STALKER update
I'll have one more chapter to post (later today), then I'm taking the first draft of this WIP private (it'll continue on the Dickens Forum, though). If you'd like to know how it continues, drop me a line and I'll keep you in the loop. Otherwise, look for the finished novel in paperback possibly some time in 2009 (or later).
Our days are numbered
The countdown is on: 135 days left on Hawaii. Thinking about our move to Kansas prompted me to come up with yet another list:
What I’ll miss:
- rainbows and double rainbows
- watching newly hatched geckos emerge from my closet for the first very time and knowing they’ll drive the cats nuts (until they grow big and fat and the cats can catch them)
- my kids being in the racial minority on the playground and in school
- swimming with green sea turtles and watching whales and dolphins from the beach
- coming across a hula or Tahitian dance practice at the community park
- the weather and lack of seasons
What I’m looking forward to:
- twice as much square footage for half the rent
- Dunkin Donuts (I haven’t had a good donut since we left for Japan seven years ago)
- Target, Kohl’s and other retailers like that (anything other than Walmart)
- chain restaurants like Fridays or Applebees or even Olive Garden
- independent bookstores
- not paying $7 for a jug of milk (don’t get me started on the price of gas)
What I’m not looking forward to:
- the 15-month DEPLOYMENT
- homogenized communities
- four seasons + the flu season
- tornados
- religion (The Bible Belt)
- trying to find a new babysitter
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