West of Mars -- the Meet and Greet

Missed Me?

2009-05-12T12:14:00.003-04:00

Have you really spent the past six months wondering where I am? Have you even noticed that your routine dose of Trevor Wolff has tapered to nothing?

There's a VERY easy fix for that. Come on over to West of Mars. Pick up the feed. See what you've missed. It's all there now, including (soon) Win a Book. And more on the horizon.

If you've already picked up the feed, make sure you've gotten the Deadly Metal Hatchet fiction I posted on Sunday. If you haven't, you'll need to update your feed once again; we switched WordPress platforms and that seems to have changed the feed.

Don't by shy. Trevor certainly isn't!

We've moved!

2008-12-10T12:11:00.004-05:00

Thanks to the help of some good people who work for Google and the inspiration of a good friend and some slick talk by the Tour Manager, I can get in here and tell you that to avoid this happening again, we've moved to a new home.

It's still partially constructed as I write this and still needs some tweaks. But it's home.

Come join me there.

Fiction Outtake: Cranberries (The Early Days)

2008-11-29T22:25:00.000-05:00

Patterson didn't mind that they'd left early. The after-dinner entertainment had been the same for years now: the men gathered around the television, the women in the kitchen, cleaning up and gossiping, the kids who were too young to do either dispersing to the basement or another round of football in the yard.

Mitchell, for all his love of baseball, loathed watching football. And Trevor's lewd comments about the sport had been immediately unwelcome.

Frankly, Patterson had been glad to have an excuse to leave. He wasn't much of a football lover, himself, and family togetherness had its limits when there was so much in your life you couldn't discuss.

He pulled the Bronco into its spot on the side of the driveway and sat for a moment. Trevor, in the back seat, had gotten awfully quiet. Too quiet.

Mitchell, beside him, hopped out of the Bronco like he didn't have a care in the world. Like leaving early wasn't a big deal. To the boy, it probably hadn't been. Spending the day with the family had been okay at first, with the annual flag football game and the cousins to catch up with. But if you kept Mitchell away from his guitar too long, he started to get twitchy. Once that happened, the cousins decided he was weird. Adding Trevor to the mix hadn't helped, but leaving that one at home had never crossed Patterson's mind. Trevor was part of the family now, no matter how hard he worked at reminding them all that he wasn't.

Trevor followed Mitchell out of the Bronco, but didn't wait by the back door with the younger boy. Instead, Trevor stared at the sky.

"Did you ever wonder," he said to Patterson, his face turned upward.

"I wondered what's bothering you tonight."

Trevor shoved his hands into the pockets of the leather vest he'd consented to wear over his denim jacket. He hunched his shoulders.

Patterson had a few guesses. But it was best if the boy talked without prompts.

Suddenly, the hands were out of the pockets, the shoulders were down, and the boy had spun to face his guardian. "Do you have any fucking clue what it's like to watch that table get cleared and hear everyone laugh that everyone forgot about the cranberries and this and that and everything else? Do you have any fucking clue how lucky you are to even have a fucking family?"

"Yes," Patterson said. "And not just because this is a holiday of gratitude, either."

Mitchell wandered closer, but stayed safely behind Trevor.

"Do you know what my Thanksgivings used to be like?" Trevor went on, his face turning red in the starlight. "Do you know what we'd have for dinner?"

"No," Patterson said. "Tell me."

Trevor just shook his head, like the words wouldn't come. Mitchell sat down in the grass and folded his legs Indian-style. He began playing with his shoelaces.

Trevor pulled his cigarettes out of the chest pocket of the denim jacket. "Some years, it was us sitting around the table, watching him drink a bottle of JD. One year, he beat Mom with the bird she'd brought home and then made her cook it and stood there while we ate it. I puked it back up about an hour later." He snorted. "And don't forget the year there was no food because Mom couldn't get a hold of his paycheck and he stole hers and drank 'em both."

Mitchell shook his head and visibly swallowed. Patterson just listened. He'd been witness to scenes like this, although not at the Wolff household. It didn't matter; the tragedy was still the same. The fact that he'd been able to make a difference in this young man's life couldn't even begin to make up for the families he hadn't been able to help so directly.

"Happy fucking birthday, Trevor," Trevor said, sniffing hard and rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his denim jacket. "They usually forgot. And there's the Voss family," he said, gesturing expansively, "with a birthday cake and apologies for being a week late."

Patterson looked at Mitchell; he felt the boy watching him. He'd managed to shelter Mitchell from the worst of Trevor's stories; this couldn't be easy.

Mitchell was imploring his father to make it stop. To help him know what to say or do.

Patterson pursed his lips and gave the barest shake to his head.

"And all that fucking food that everyone forgot to eat," Trevor said.

"We didn't forget," Mitchell said. "No one likes the cranberries. So Aunt Paula leaves 'em on the table because we're supposed to have cranberries. She's probably shoving them back in the container she uses every year, and she'll throw it in the freezer until next year. They'll make it to the table, probably still frozen, and then when we clear, everyone will joke about forgetting to eat them when the truth is, no one wants 'em."

"Think that's funny?" Trevor whirled and bent over to look at Mitchell, who shrugged.

"I think cranberries are okay," Mitchell said.

Patterson had to bite his lip to keep from smiling.

Trevor cocked his head, considering.

Mitchell started pulling at the grass.

"So you're saying I'm a cranberry?" Trevor asked at last.

Mitchell made a sound sort of like one of Trevor's indignant snorts. "No," the boy said. "You're an ass who's keeping me from my guitar. C'mon. Let's go make music."

Patterson moved to unlock the front door, wondering if a parent could be more proud of his son. It wasn't likely.

Want to know more about who these folk are? All the info you need is at West of Mars. Go check it out.

Susan Speaks: I Need (another) New Chest

2008-11-26T21:51:00.001-05:00

If you turned all these blog awards into medals and pinned them on me, I'm short enough to be all covered up by them. Possibly head to toe by this point.

Guess you guys agree that the medals are better looking than I am (You think I forgot to put my picture on The Demo Tapes?) 'cause I've got a heap more to acknowledge.

Maybe a mountain is more like it.

Let's start with the always awesome Alice Audrey. Don't let Chelle get a look at this award; we all know how she is with typos.

The award is the Kreativ Blogger award and misspelled or not, this still makes me smile. I'm doing my best to be creative and make this blog into something so totally unique, you can't stop talking about it. Seems my efforts are paying off.

I've missed my old friend Marcia at MeeAugraphie. And crumb, but I can't find the post that gave me something or other. But go visit Marcia. She's amazing.

Another new friend is Daisy Bookworm. Again, I found her through EntreCard. I've been finding more than just increased hits and rankings via EntreCard. I've found a whole slew of cool folk. Daisy's a great example of the quality blogger I wouldn't have found otherwise. She's given me the I Love Your Blog Award.

(Trevor's telling me to remind you to use protection when you love my blog... I think he doesn't want any more baby blogs running around. Win a Book takes up enough of my time as it is!)

Now.

Here is an award that came out of left field. Given who it came from, I'm truly, truly honored. I mean, there are published authors I've made friends with (Hello, Amy! Wylie! Shelley! Lisa! Christine!), and there are published authors who I really respect (Hello Lauren! Megan! Anya! Ann!) but am too intimidated by to have a friendship with them (yet), but LA Day falls somewhere between them. Not quite a friend yet not scary in her success, either. But highly, highly respected.

She also loves my blog. It's mutual, believe me. I want a sidebar full of book titles like LA Day has. I wouldn't mind the naked men on the book covers, either, but they'd have to all be Mitchell or Daniel. We love Trevor, but it ain't for that bod of his...

***
It began with Ann. Ann of Fractured Fiction, who I must have broken somehow because she hasn't been blogging regularly since we met at the Romantic Times Convention last year. Ann, can I fix you, please? I miss your posts!

Anyway, Ann gave me the Lemonade Stand. She gave it to Wylie, who also gave it to me.

So now I have two lemonade stands!

Is this because of Trevor's ability to make figurative lemonade out of anything? I don't know. All I know is that I'm immensely flattered.

Wylie gave it to Thomma Lyn, who turned around and gave it to ...

Me.

I swear, one of the best things about these awards is seeing the company you guys put me in. Sometimes, I get down and depressed. Most of you are publishing books and I'm not! Yet you don't care. You hold me up with the some of the best of the best of the blogging writers.

Ultimately, these are silly little awards, given to make each other feel good. I like that idea and that attitude; it's so nice to see this sort of kindness in a world that's often snarky and mean.

Yet it's that comment I just made, that you guys hold me with the best of the best, that tells you why this means so much to me. You don't care about things like who publishes my books, or if I get an advance against royalties, or that people who self-publish, as I've done with The Demo Tapes, clearly aren't good enough to be published by the better publishers out there.

You care about this world I've created. You help inspire it and you help push me to new heights, creatively and in terms of my writing ability.

So... let me share some of the people who make MY day better and brighter:

Gautami deserves an award and lots of notice for resurrecting the Monday Poetry Train. Come jump aboard with us.

I've mentioned my friend L^2 before, but have you seen her CafePress store? Don't be surprised if you see one of her notecards tucked inside any copy of The Demo Tapes that you buy from me. L is one of the coolest people out there. If you haven't seen her blog yet, you are missing out. This is one talented photographer.

I've made a new friend, Koe, at The Half-Life of Linoleum. What a great blog name, huh?

I was digging this blog, but when she created this post, that sealed the deal. She threw up an unfinished poem and then added to it throughout the day/week until it became what I've just linked to. But Koe added ... the comments from the comment trail. She told me she'd like to do it again. I hope she does. Stick her in your reader and keep commenting!

There are neat book bloggers out there, and you writers ought to take note (there are lots more neat book bloggers over at Win a Book! Why aren't you making friends???). One of my absolute favorites is Dawn, at She is Too Fond of Books. And then there's Anna, whose Diary of an Eccentric is one of my favorite blog names to joke about. Come read Win a Book to see why. And, of course, Serena, of Savvy Verse and Wit.

I've had the distinct pleasure of chatting with these three ladies lately, and they are as wonderful as their blogs are. I'm so glad to have you guys in my circle. Even if you hate my own fiction, I'll still be a fan of you three. Just... not quite as rabidly so.

Have I mentioned J. Kaye lately? Breeni?

My world lately has changed shape, and in a good way. A lot of that is directly due to Breeni, who has decided to throw her considerable passion and efficiency into promoting The Demo Tapes. Beyond me, though, Breeni is every bit as passionate about books as I am -- as any of us are, really -- and is one of the biggest champions for not caring WHO publishes a book. For Breeni, it's about the quality between the covers.

May we all learn to be so publisher-blind.

I can't leave here without one last award. My favorite, and the one you ALL should be giving me. The rock star award!!! What a better award to hand out to a woman who writes about rock stars and the people who orbit them.

It came from April, at My Life as a Mother and Single Parent. We've only just met, me and April, but from the first time I saw one of her blogs (she has a few), I really dug her attitude. This woman has a zest for life that rivals Trevor's. I hope we're in for a long friendship.

She loved my post about the loss of Pittsburgh legend PittGirl. I worked pretty hard on that post, trying to make it as perfect as I could. Thanks to April, I succeeded, although I'm curious what PittGirl herself thinks of it... In the constant flow of my dreams is one where PittGirl reads my post and decides to come back... as a fictional character.

On I dream.

Come join me.

Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Gearing up for Musical Hanukkah Celebration Year 3

2008-11-23T18:22:00.000-05:00

It only took ole Chelle here two years to figure it out, but when there's a message taped to her phone, waitin' for her in the morning, and when that message don't say nothin' but "Be at your phone at seven, your time, Wednesday," it means one thing and one thing only.

Time to talk up this year's Musical Hanukkah Celebration over in Riverview.

Yeah, yeah. I know. We don't live nowhere near Riverview. We be two time zones over and at least a thousand miles away. So what's Chelle doin' talkin' this thing up?

You boys and girls who're regulars know the answer to that. The Musical Hanukkah Celebration is the baby of the one and only ShapeShifter. And that means fat ole Chelle gets the skinny from the luscious Mitchell Voss himself. He's probably the only man who could tell Chelle when to get herself by a telephone. He's worth it every time.

Except, luscious Mitchell Voss… he ain't the best with the hellos. Know what Chelle hears when she answers the phone? "We've got our best charity yet for this thing."

No Hello? Where's the How Ya Doing, Chelle?

"It's the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation. Stable. Been around awhile. Famous 'cause of some movie I never saw. And we're moving into the Rocket Theater this time, too," Mr. Luscious said. "It's bigger. The stage is bigger and it holds more people. The backstage area's nicer, too, so we can have a few more guest stars. We're pulling out the stops this year. And wait until you see the t-shirt. We're making more of those, too. People want to buy 'em online and help support the cause. Since it's such a good cause, we're all for that."

There you go, boys and girls. We get t-shirts this year if we ain't gonna make the trek to Riverview. And why would we? We got us some great weather this time of year. Gettin' on an airplane might cost so much, you gotta sell your favorite band t-shirt on eBay, and that's before you get to the airport and they call for a cavity search. No, boys and girls. Let's stay put. There's a great local scene here y'all should be explorin'. Chelle's got a rundown of who to go see later on this week.

That don't mean you shouldn't buy those t-shirts when word gets out that you can. Any donation's sure to make those little kids happy and grateful. It's all about bringin' music to the kids, remember that. A kid who plays the flute now might turn out to be tomorrow's Mitchell Voss. We ain't gonna know until that kid gets the chance to make some precious music.

For now, you heard it here and you heard it first: ShapeShifter's Musical Hanukkah Celebration. Gettin' bigger, getting' better and with t-shirts for all, not just the folk who make it inside. Gotta love that. Chelle sure does.

If you're new around here, this whole Musical Hanukkah Celebration thing has got to seem as though it's from left field. Click here to read the beginnings.

While the characters in this piece aren't real, the Mr. Holland's Opus Foundation is. Profits on the upcoming t-shirts and The Demo Tapes will go toward this great effort to keep our kids musical. There will be more details and hoopla to come, I promise. And a lot more fiction, too, building up to this fun event.

You may ask why I'm blurring the line between real life and fiction like this. The answer's easy: Today's clarinet player might be tomorrow's million-selling lead singer. Every child all deserves that dream.

Susan Speaks: Face Value

2008-11-19T18:23:00.000-05:00

Usually, if I'm cranky, I channel my fictional character, Trevor. Heck, the other day, one of my online friends was having a hard time with her mother, and Trevor wrote her this gorgeous balm for her wounded soul. It was great therapy for me. And, I hope, for her. The Tour Manager dug it, too.

What you don't know about me is that in real life, I'm cranky. I'm bitchy. I'm self-centered (as all good writers are supposed to be … or so goes the cliche). I'm frazzled, overwhelmed, and drowning in this life I've created. In fact, other than my friend Bridget, I'd be surprised if most of the people (if not all) who I see in my daily, offline life have nice things to say about me. Hell, there are people I've only known online who think I'm nothing but the worst kind of bitch.

So maybe this forthcoming rant won't surprise you guys. You're smart people and you know that no one can be as perpetually cheery as I try to be on these pages.

Here's what set me off. One of the local writers I know told me over a year ago about this local, anonymous blogger named PittGirl. "She's hysterical," Annette told me.

It took me about two seconds to see the truth of that. And the deeper content swirling under the surface.

Because she was anonymous, PittGirl felt free to rant about the city. The city's government. The rich and beautiful. PittGirl wasn't afraid to talk about how bad the Pirates are. Every week, she posted the funniest pictures of the Steelers and gave them the best captions, dialogue that had me howling until the cats got scared. I didn't always agree with her, but she always made me think about whatever she was talking about. I'd be out with the Tour Manager and suddenly, I'd say, "Oh, did I tell you what PittGirl said today? Man, it was brilliant."

And did I mention the pictures of shirtless Penguins? Oh, my. That woman provided better eye candy than the numerous romance authors who post Man Meat Mondays.

Yesterday, PittGirl closed up shop. Apparently, someone found out her true identity. The floodgates had been opened, and PittGirl had a choice to make.

She chose real life.

I hate this. I can't tell you how much I hate this. Even earlier this week (or was it last week?), PittGirl had posted a reminder that if her identity was discovered, she faced being fired from her day job. And yet some dunderhead had to go and pry anyway.

For what? For some bit of useless knowledge?

Look.

It doesn't matter who is behind the person who became PittGirl. Maybe it was David Conrad, one of her self-united husbands. Maybe it was Ken Rice, a local TV anchor and someone who was long rumored to be PittGirl. Those two men (interesting that I can think of only men when PittGirl was pretty obviously a woman) are who they are… David Conrad and Ken Rice. An actor and a TV newsman.

Likewise, PittGirl was PittGirl.

I mean, heck. When did Marcia Brady stop being Marcia Brady and start being Maureen McCormick? For me, she hasn't. If I find the Bradys on TV, I'm not looking at Maureen McCormick. I'm looking at Marcia Brady. I don't need to know any more about her. She's Marcia. She's got a mom, two sisters, three brothers, a step-father, and a housekeeper who's having a thing with the butcher. End of story. What more do I need to know?

Part of the strength of a good character is that they do not exist in real life. They are larger than life because if they were real, they'd be too large to be contained. Could someone real have the freedom to skewer some of the city's most powerful people the way PittGirl did when details of a society divorce became known?

Hell, no. If she tried, she'd be sued for defamation of character.

And that's exactly why anonymous characters like PittGirl -- and Miss Snark for us writers, and Fake Steve Jobs for you tech heads -- are so important. They use their smokescreen to say the things we are thinking. Or maybe the things we ought to be thinking. Miss Snark could shoot idiots with a clue gun. She wasn't real. Readers knew that they were not in jeopardy of walking down a street and feeling a hard thunk!, only to find they'd been the unwitting recipient of a clue. No matter how badly that clue is needed, it simply isn't going to happen. The clue gun exists in a fictional world.

If someone -- like, say, literary agent Janet Reid, whose prickly online persona is often held as proof that she was Miss Snark -- were to offer to shoot you with something like a clue gun, someone else would feel threatened. Hell, I know how creeped out I was for months after someone said to me, "I have a knife in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it." That was his opening salvo, too. He went on from there. He claimed he was joking.

Tell that to my nightmares, buddy.

I've heard it said that we Pittsburghers take people at face value. Maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time believing that someone out there (especially someone apparently in Pittsburgh) would want to dig deeper. What's wrong with face value? What's wrong with fantasy and mystique?

Why did PittGirl have to become a real person? She was perfect as she was, hating pigeons and giving Steelers such horrid nicknames that you couldn't help but laugh. (Baby Cici Donna? Skippy Skeeve?)

I'm a writer. I miss Miss Snark but that was an end I saw coming. She'd simply run out of things to teach us.

But PittGirl… in a city like this one, a city that's constantly evolving and changing, that's trying so desperately to move forward (*ahem*), we needed her. We needed her as she was: a fictional woman who could point out the good and the bad that fills our Golden Triangle. Through her, I felt a pride in Pittsburgh that I haven't felt in a long time, and I adore this place. Her love of the city came through in every post, and I'd be surprised if mine wasn't the only outlook she altered.

Pittsburgh is poorer for her loss. She made this often grey landscape brighter.

I hope the dunderhead who needed to know so desperately who she was can look at him- or herself in the mirror today. Because, dunderhead, you ruined a very very good thing for an awful lot of us.

Maybe you're the one we should be calling Skippy Skeeve.

Susan's Book Talk: In my Hands...

2008-11-18T12:51:00.001-05:00

Well, boys, girls and groupies of all sizes, shapes, and genders.

In my hands is what I think is going to be the final version of The Demo Tapes. You've asked and I'm about to deliver... Wow. This is scary and exhilarating all at once. Sort of like I imagine how I'd feel if I were allowed to be the first person to try out a new roller coaster... with a blindfold.

No, maybe not. Blindfolds take the fun out of it, no matter what Trevor says. We're talking roller coasters here, folks. And books. MY book.

Since this is mine, thanks to the good folks at Lulu, I get to make the rules. One of which is that you'll be able to buy The Demo Tapes from me. You'll be able to buy them through Lulu. You might be able to buy them through Amazon, but I'll only earn 66 cents per copy once Amazon gets their cut, and that doesn't leave me much to pay off my (limited) expenses and still have enough profit to donate to charity.

What I need to know right now (Yes, this instant!) is ... would you like an autographed copy? The only way to get one is to get it directly through me for a million reasons, one of which is that this book is being produced Print on Demand, so until someone places an order, there's nothing for me to sign.

Tell me in the comments. Lay it all out; I have comment mod only only to get rid of the spammers who leave links to obnoxious spam sites.

Here's the back cover copy:

A band's demo tape is intended to introduce listeners to their music. Likewise, this collection of short pieces allows readers into the fictional world of Trevor Wolff and his band, ShapeShifter.

Originally published online between April 2006 and March 2007, The Demo Tapes: Year 1 brings together the moments that parallel -- but never encounter -- Susan Helene Gottfried's debut novel, Trevor's Song. Arranged chronologically and with introductions to each, this is a must-have volume for anyone who's ever wanted to hang with a rock band.

As Frigga asked, the book is priced at $9.98 and there will be shipping costs involved. I need to figure them out yet (think three bucks for US addresses, tops). And yes, PayPal is a FINE form of payment.

More details on all this to come. Stay tuned.

Roadie Poet: Stranger

2008-11-15T09:31:00.001-05:00

Got home just now.
The start of a month off the road.
I need sleep
Clean clothes
Good food.

In that order.

My key fits in the lock.
Everything inside looks the same:
Shelf for mail
The dent in the bannister from when I kicked it with a steel-toed boot.

Don't ask.

In the living room
In front of the TV
In the recliner I bought Mom with my first tour's pay
Isn't Mom.

It's some guy.
In blue plaid flannel pants.
Black socks.
Brown slippers with no backs.
Not a lot of hair.
Glasses.

I look into the kitchen.
There's Mom's cookbooks
Mom's pots
Mom's teapot.
No Mom.

Just this guy.

"Hey," he says to me.
"You must be RP."

"Who're you?" I say to him.
"Does Mom know you're here?"

He laughs.
Stands up.
Shoves his hand at me.

I stare at it.

Mom shows up then.
Dressed in a flimsy robe.
Surprised to see me.
Her second kid.

Like I'm forgettable.

She gives me food.
Takes my laundry.
Sends me to bed.

In that order.
I don't complain.
I needed all three.
Especially sleep.

I'm awake.
Never thought I'd need earplugs at home.

Maybe
I can find
A tour
That'll keep me busy
For a month.

I don't really need
Sleep
Food
Or clothes.
In any order.

Aww, man! Poor RP; his mom's got a boyfriend! There's more to this saga, so stay tuned. In the meantime, why not check out other friends who've done some Sunday Scribblings?

Susan's Music Talk: How Thinking Affects Heart Rates

2008-11-12T19:25:00.000-05:00

So check out this article I came across today. It says that:

Listening to stressful or disturbing music can be bad for the heart, according to a new study.

An American investigation found that genres like heavy metal narrowed arteries and made people more anxious, where as “joyful” music improved blood flow.

John Denver-style country music was found to be the most uplifting.

Okay, sure. Pounding drums and throbbing bass and screaming guitars require thicker skin. I can see that.

But John Denver?

Ever seen me twitch when that man's music comes on? No offense; a lot of it is good stuff. But... I'm a metal head for a reason, folks. It speaks to me. Hell, it soothes me.

(remind me to tell you about the time I was pregnant with #1 and went to the OB right after listening to Ride the Lightning and my heart rate was so LOW, the Tour Manager asked how I was managing to be upright. "I'm mellow," I told him. And I was.)

Okay, so fine. Whatever. Heavy metal = bad.

Read on, grasshopper:

The study asked the 10 healthy, non-smoking volunteers to avoid listening to their favourite music to minimise "emotional desensitisation”.

Then, after two weeks, when they listened to music they liked “they would get an extra boost of whatever emotion was being generated," Dr Miller said.

The results found that volunteers' arteries opened 26% wider on average during music they liked but narrowed by 6% when “anxious” music was played.

Now wait a minute. Wait one cotton-picking minute here.

Notice how we're not talking about genre anymore, but about what the listener finds enjoyable?

Think we have a scientist who's making the assumption that no one likes heavy metal, and that everyone on the planet finds metal "anxious" (whatever the hell that means)? Think we have some BIAS going on, boys and girls?

Think.

Don't let the headline pull you in. Read the details.

Think.

(I saw this study posted here, at BraveWords.com. They quote the source as this place, although I think there ought to be somewhere else... like where the study was originally published.)

Two Months Later...

2008-11-10T21:02:00.001-05:00

Those of you who pick my feed up have seen this get accidentally posted a few times now. Damn Google and their continued insistence on my being a spam blog. Trust me, a fix is in the works.

You'd think I'd just post this already for real, but I keep waiting for the Tour Manager to do my graphics for me. We've been swamped, trying to get the Demo Tapes out to you (so much for my projected target of October 1...), so you can imagine that a simple thing like graphics has taken a back seat. Somehow, I don't think you guys mind all that much.

Anyway, I've been stockpiling these awards since back in September. Ready?

Let's start at the beginning:

Julia at Julia's Book Corner. She was kind enough to give me the super commentator award. I know I am commenting on many of your blogs less than I used to (see above about time...), but when I do comment, I'm trying to make sure you know that I'm not just typing letters and hoping they make words. Silence from me, btw, doesn't mean I'm not here. Just that I'm in a quiet mood. I have been lately, and I'm not sure why.

Breeni loves my blog, which is great because I love hers. In fact, I hung out there a few times during October. Did you notice?

Shauney loves my blog, too. Shauney is an old friend from back before my blogging days, when I hung around a really cool book lover's community. More on that below; right now, it's all about awards.

Especially because I've been handed this one a THIRD time this go-around. Three, folks. Wow.

Florinda, at The 3 R's: Reading, 'Riting, and Randomness, also saw fit to pass this along. Florinda and I met years ago through BookCrossing when we exchanged books. Years later, she recognized me. Because, you know, I have a distinctive name and how many other women run around bragging about being from West of Mars?

Lisa, at Minds Alive on the Shelves, also gave me this award, but more for Win a Book than this joint. Still, I'll acknowledge it here while I'm on a roll. Besides, Lisa doesn't live that far from me (or you, Spy) and so she's worth mentioning here. She says she often comes out this way, so let's see if we ever meet in person. Could be scary; I'm SO much better here on the blog.

The cool gang over at Booklorn (who just got added to my reader for handing out this award!) ALSO gave this one to Win a Book. Even on the days lately when I've been overwhelmed and have really relied on Breeni and Bridget to post things for me, having the Win a Book blog has been a great source of FUN. Yes, it's a ton of work. Yes, it's a ton of energy that maybe ought to be spent on my fiction. But I've met so many cool people through Win a Book that it's all worth it. Keep those e-mails coming to the handy-dandy Win a Book e-mail, gang. There's a community being built over there, just as there is one here. Join them both.

On to another award... (I said I was feeling loved!)

Carol over at She Lives and Bass-ically Speaking. Man, I love Carol. I want to be Carol's real-life friend. She comes across as so steady and cool; she'd be a very good influence on flighty and emotional you-know-who.

This is that Portuguese Award that makes me wish I knew Portuguese. The Proximidade Award.

Here's the stuff that comes with it:

This is a very cool Portuguese Award and it means this blog invests in and believes that blogging makes us close. Proximidade translated to English means vicinity, or neighbourhood.

Here is the statement I am supposed to post...

"They all are charmed with the blogs, where in the majority of its aims are to show the marvels and to do friendship; there are persons who are not interested when we give them a prize and then they help to cut these bows; do we want that they are cut or that they propagate? Then let’s try to give more attention to them! So with this prize we must deliver it to 8 bloggers that in turn must make the same thing and put this text."

Yeah. I don't know about that deliver it to 8 bloggers thing, but the rest sure sounds good.

My new friends over at The Virtual Dime Museum honored me before I could honor them. This is one of those blogs I love to stop by every day and linger over. There's always something new and neat here.

And wow. I am very overwhelmed by all this (and I think I've missed an award or two; if I have, please let me know!). I wish I could tell you how much I appreciate it, but I'm lousy at this sort of thing. Thanks seems inadequate when I think of how much you guys impact my own self-worth (which, because I'm a writer is always a hairy thing) in a good way. When my real life blows up, I know that I've always got you guys and this place to hang onto. Probably because you don't have to deal with my artistic temperament (ahem) the way people in my face do.

So... if all of these cool award-granters aren't enough in terms of cool people for you to meet, I've got some more, of course.

There is my friend Carmi, over at Written, Inc. Carmi's actually inspired a character you guys haven't met yet (but will, I promise. Know how I've been a little more absent lately? This is why.), and when I am inspired by who you are, rather than something you say, that is high praise. Needless to say, Shaun is a good guy. You'll like him when you meet him.

Anyway, this is about Carmi. The post I've linked to struck me as something so utterly gorgeous, it took my breath away. And yet, this is business as usual for him; he's the host of thematic photographs, he runs cool caption contests... his range of topics is varied and while you never know what's on his mind from day to day, one thing remains steady: his photography.

Now, enough Carmi. On to the sister blog of The Virtual Dime Museum, Kitchen Retro. Again, I love to sit and read these retro sites; there's so much to be learned. It's such a neat look at who our society was -- and how we've changed.

More history? Really? I like history? When it's this cool, yes, I do. The site is The Modern Historian and I love to see what happened on this date. You should, too.

Another new favorite is Dirty Shanks. These snarky greeting cards make me spit water all over my keyboard on a daily basis. My keys have never been so clean. (You'd think I'd learn, huh?)

Laughing has been a priority lately because I'm feeling so swamped with everything. Another of my favorite stops, thanks to Bunnygirl and Thomma Lyn, is It's Lovely! I'll Take it! Yeah, okay, some of these real estate listings make me realize what a spoiled, sheltered princess I am. Some of them depress me. But mostly, they make me howl. The Tour Manager and I spent hours a week or so ago, going through the site. I'm sure their site meter loved us. (As mine loves you!)

Believe it or not, but I've actually been finding more cool blogs -- but sadly, some of them don't have their feeds on. So, gentle reader, I am asking humbly that you check your feed. Is it on? Does it work? I know I'm not the only blogger out there who won't read a blog unless it's through her reader. (Well, other than those EntreCard people, but that's another creature)

I'll be back with more, I'm sure. In the meantime, I hope you meet some new friends.

The Origin of Mabel

2008-11-08T20:31:00.000-05:00

Many of you regulars may remember Mabel. Here's how the legend began:

It wasn't supposed to be a big deal. Just a cheap guitar that could take some abuse, something up to life on the road. Take abuse, it did. It got knocked, bumped, dropped. But in the end, not even the inflatable ones could handle being stepped on.

Just like that, Mabel's life came to an end.

Mitchell couldn't believe how much he missed the stupid thing. He moped. He whined. He made the band threaten to leave him at a rest stop.

It was Daniel and Eric who came to the rescue, of course.

And Mabel the second was born.

The idea for this began with this week's 100-word challenge: Resurrection. It continued with this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: change.

To read more about Mabel, check out this link. She's appeared in other spots, too. If you'd like to read them, search the blog by using her name. They'll pop right up. Have fun and remember to leave comments so I know where you've been!

BTT: Presents

2008-11-06T14:34:00.000-05:00

This week's Booking Through Thursday asks us:

What, if any, memorable or special book have you ever gotten as a present? Birthday or otherwise. What made it so notable? The person who gave it? The book itself? The “gift aura?”

With few exceptions, people don't give me books for presents. Maybe it's the 500+ stack that refuses to shrink, no matter how fast I read, that scares them off. Maybe it's that many of those 500+ come from RABCKs -- Random Acts of BookCrossing Kindness. That's when a fellow BookCrosser decides to look up my address and pop a book in the mail to me, just because. As someone who loves to do this, herself, I love getting RABCKs in return.

There's one book that sticks out immediately. That's The Plucker, an illustrated novel by Brom. Yep, one name. Brom. Awkward at first, it takes on a beauty of its own after a bit, doesn't it? Brom.

So does the man's art.

Anyway, the Tour Manager bought me a copy of The Plucker last year for my birthday. Horrible wife that I am, I haven't read it yet. I'm waiting, you see, for a day where I can curl up with something I can get lost inside, where I can lose all the pressures I've been facing lately, trying to get The Demo Tapes done -- along with everything else that my ambition is dictating.

I think, truth be told, I'd rather have a gorgeous new pen (I prefer rollerballs) or an account at Roberta Weissburg's and time to devote to having her make me a gorgeous new dress coat. Or time to play with the washable suede pants I've recently discovered. Or... Yeah, you get the idea. Time and money for this rock and roll writer's rock and roll wardrobe.

Which, of course, explains why I'm wearing a too-big pair of Levi's and a t-shirt from WPTS-FM, the radio station where I had so damn much fun on Sunday afternoons...

Susan Speaks: While You're on a Roll

2008-11-04T20:38:00.000-05:00

So you went and voted today. I'm pretty certain you waited in line longer than I did: the kids and I pretty much walked right on up.

Now, though, you've juiced up those voting fingers (hey, we've got the touch screens here now. Fancy living, West of Mars) and ... what are you going to do?

Well, vote for me!

It's all Breeni's fault. She was nominated for a Weblog award and turned around and nominated me.

There are really good people in the same category. I see a number of blogs I know from my Win a Book blog, and of course, there's Breeni. To be honest, I'll be glad if I don't finish dead last, but ... every now and then, it's fun to think about being first.

Check it out. Nominate someone, even if it's not me. You've got this voting thing down pat now, right? Exercise your choice and your rights some more!

Fiction Outtake: Needing Candy (The Early Days)

2008-10-31T13:19:00.001-04:00

Warning: This outtake contains lots of foul language and men in women's clothing. Happy Halloween!

"Trevor, you may not go trick-or-treating!"

"Aww, Mom, why not?"

Mitchell dove for the safety of his room. If Ma wasn't going to let Trevor out of the house in spandex pants and a vest, she sure as shit wasn't going to let him out. Not with his hair spray painted orange and while he was wearing one of Amy's old bras. Aim would kill him when she saw him in her only long skirt, too. Hopefully she'd stay up at school tonight and hit up those stupid frat house parties she'd been raving about. As if he'd go to college, let alone join a fucking fraternity.

Trevor showed up a minute later, looking glum. "Mom threatened to barricade the door."

"Did you ask if we can hand out the candy?"

Trev shook his head. "She's on to that trick, dude."

"So let's fuck with her and really hand out the candy."

"What are you going to do about your hair?"

Mitchell shrugged. "We've got a gig tonight, right?"

"And no candy to throw during it." Trevor sat down on the bed and dropped his chin into his hand.

"Eric'll cover for us."

Trevor sat up and snapped his head around. He narrowed his eyes at Mitchell, who raised his eyebrows in surprise at the extreme reaction and waited. "What happened to pulling our own weight?" the bass player demanded. He jumped up and started waving his arms around, occasionally pointing at Mitchell. "We're a band and we rely on each other but that doesn't mean we slack off. It means we all work our asses off to be the best fucking band we can be. That doesn't mean you sit on your pampered ass and wait for Eric to show up with the fucking candy. That means you use my escape route out that window of yours and we go fucking trick-or-treat so we have something to give our fans, dumbfuck!"

"Not in a skirt," Mitchell said calmly, picking at a fold. Really, he thought, these things weren't so bad, once you got used to them. It was sort of free inside there, not all caught up inside a denim casing like a sausage or something.

Trevor jumped up and down, his eyes screwed shut, his motorcycle boots thunking on the floor. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Fuck off. I'm the one giving a fuck around here."

"No," Mitchell said, sitting up and adjusting the bra. They'd stuffed it with socks, of course, although Trevor had sniggered and suggested using underwear. It didn't matter what was in there; Mitchell now had a much better idea of why they called them knockers. "It's not about whether or not I give a fuck. It's about how long we have to wait to pull off my plan."

"Oh, a plan," Trevor said with an exaggerated sniff and wag of his head.

Mitchell stared at the ceiling and asked whoever was hanging out up there
for some patience. "Yes, a plan, you dumbass," he said. "It's simple. We hand out candy. One to the kids, one to us. By the time we need to split, we're set."

"And how are you planning on getting that past Mom? You know she won't go for it."

"It's simple. Either we take it, or we eat it. Remember what happened last time you hit a sugar high?"

"Fuckhead."

Mitchell laughed. He stood up and held his arms out. "So tell me. Do my boots go with the skirt?"

For more Scandalous happenings, check out this week's Sunday Scribblings. And, as always, I invite you back to my website where you can learn more about Trevor and Mitchell and where you can gain easy access to see more of them in action.

Susan's Music Talk and Cool Shit

2008-10-29T20:27:00.001-04:00

Now, it stands to reason that anyone who grew up the way I did loves great music. That I love to throb with music. (Oh, shut up, you gutter brains!)

When I was little, my sister played the flute and piccolo. She'd practice for hours. Thus, music is something that's always been a part of me, something I miss when it's not around and like many musicians, something I hear in the oddest of places.

Too bad I can't play it worth a damn.

So of course I fell in love with the absolute brilliance that is Apocalyptica. A four-man cello band from Finland who got their start playing Metallica??

Man, that start was only the tip of the iceberg for those boys. I can not, listen to the song Burn from their newest album without humming and thrumming along. Sheer brilliance. Sometimes, depending on where I am and how sunk into listening I am, it brings tears to my eyes. (That link'll take you to a live version)

That's why, when #1 brought home a note from the school orchestra teacher inviting the kids to a free concert by cello rock group CelloFourte, I figured they'd have to call the cops to get me out of that auditorium. Live music? Good live music? I am so there.

Turns out it wasn't an issue. Heck, with that large number of kids from third grade on up, the powers that be at the school were probably quite glad to see us parents sprinkled in among the students.

CelloFourte only played for an hour, which was about right for those of us with younger kids. #1 sat a row in front of me with three of his friends, transfixed. Me, I fought the urge to go stand up somewhere. It's been way too long since I've seen live music and the sound of those cellos... oh, man. Soulful. Different from Apocalyptica, and different is good. These three men and one woman can certainly put their own stamp on the cello rock genre.

Afterward, #1 and his friend wanted copies of the newest CelloFourte CD. And this is when the Pittsburgh connection kicked in.

Turns out that the very coolly named Tate (uhh, he'd be the cello player in the band) works for a friend of mine. And when he's not doing that, he's playing with a band you might have heard of... Skillet.

My jaw dropped. Skillet? The same Skillet I hear (not often enough) on Squizz? The same Skillet who does the amazingly moving The Last Night?

Tate, dude, we gotta be friends. My living room makes a great practice space, ya know...

Susan's Book Talk: WAY overdue!

2008-10-28T10:55:00.001-04:00

I can't believe I haven't done a Book Talk since August, when I raved about The Kommandant's Girl. Granted, my reading's (regrettably) slowed since then, as I've had other things in the works and all of us adjusting to the new school year.

I've been reading great books, though. In fact, of the 14 I've read, there have been only 2 that I haven't finished. That's a pretty good ratio.

I'm not going to go through all 12 that I finished. I don't want to bore you -- I want to point you to the great reads. There have been plenty.

Let's start with George and the Virgin. This was my first romance written by Lisa Cach, and it's easy to see what everyone is raving about when they talk about Ms. Cach. I really liked the heroine, but even more, it's a good reminder of what can happen when our lives are ruled by fears.

Sweet Man is Gone is Peggy Ehrhart's fiction debut and a definite don't miss. I reviewed it over at Front Street Reviews -- look under mysteries. I've also swapped a few e-mails with Ms. Ehrhart and she's wonderful.

For a long time now, I'd heard mixed reviews of both War for the Oaks (Emma Bull's classic) and Parable of the Sower (Octavia E. Butler's classic), and had been dragging my heels about reading both of them. It was time to suck it up (see my comment about George and the Virgin for that lesson on being ruled by fear). I'm glad I did. Both books are incredible. Both have very dark visions of society, which is fine. I like a good dystopic society. Parable is perhaps the darkest book I've ever read. Oaks shows the power of music.

I reviewed Parable for Breeni. Check it out.

Time to change gears and finally take the plunge and read a book by Lauren Dane! I've been reading her blog for years and I like her. I won a copy of Making Chase in a contest held at her blog and while it took me a little bit longer than I'd intended to get around to reading it, it was worth the wait. Ms. Dane creates wonderfully real, complex characters. She's about to have a few new books released by a major publisher; look for them.

To tie the romance and the alternate society together, I finally picked up my very-badly-treated copy of Stray (really, the person who sent it shouldn't have, despite the vague rules at PaperbackSwap. This poor book can't be sent back out again -- and before you suggest it might be ME who treated it so badly, I challenge you to ask Bridget, who borrows all my books. She'll tell you how gentle I am with a book. She's been known to ask if the copy I'm handing her is the one I read.). Rachel Vincent's debut is another book I've heard negative things about. With one minor exception, I disagree. Read what I thought over at Breeni's. (It made me feel good to see the comments, where someone says they'd steered away because of the negative talk, but I'd changed their mind.)

And last night, I finished a humdinger. I've read Anita Diamant's The Red Tent. I've read Good Harbor (a book which continues to resonate with me, years later). I've even read some of her nonfiction books "about contemporary Jewish practice," as her bio describes them. The Last Days of Dogtown trumps them all.

The friend who'd handed me her copy said "Eh," as she handed it to me, but I loved this series of interlocking stories that collectively tell the tale of a small New England town (that actually existed, according to the back cover) as it breathes its last. Well-drawn characters it's impossible not to care for make this another book that'll stay with me a long time.

So there you go. Seven books -- that's half of what I've read in the past two months. I'm on a roll. I hope it continues; it's much easier to tear myself away from the screen (and impending burn out) when there's a good novel waiting on the couch for me.

Seven Braggy Things

2008-10-25T21:27:00.000-04:00

My new bud, Beaded Tail, tagged me for that seven things meme. The last time I did it, Trevor took over. (Read it here.) Okay, he does a lot of my memes for me. He did this one, too.

Given that the Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is all about bragging, it seems natural to let Trevor do this one, too. No one loves to brag like Trevor Fucking Wolff.

But... I like being as unpredictable as my Trevor. And I got lots to brag about.

So I'm stuffing Trevor back into the tour bus and taking a rare spin at this blogging about myself stuff. (Although I suspect I do it more than I'm willing to admit! Do I?)

Know why?

Because I'm about to give you guys something many of you have asked for. Nope, not the novel you've been longing for. Not quite yet.

I've been playing with this idea for a year and a half now. I was advised to hold off doing it by a literary agent who offered representation ... and then disappeared.

Sometimes, things happen for the best. 'Cause there's not a person involved in the big business of books who'd tell you that what I'm doing has ANY commercial value. Let's prove them wrong.

What I've done is taken ALL the ShapeShifter fiction (minus anything Chelle wrote) from my blog's first year. I've organized it into chronological order, like you've asked for. I've edited each piece, more than once.

And I've uploaded it to Lulu.com.

Nope, you can't buy it YET. Know why?

The first copy I made had some odd layout issues. And the font was too small. And it needed another edit.

The second copy I made had two Tables of Contents.

And you know what? I have a whole new, healthy appreciation for people who do this stuff for a living. Sheesh, we've learned a lot, the Tour Manager and me.

It'll be soon, though. As soon as I let the Tour Manager have the laptop back so he can finish whatever tech stuff it is he's got to do. Believe me, I'll let you know.

Now, because I'm doing this myself, that means I don't get any free copies that'll show up on my doorstep for people to promo and review, like most authors get. And while most of you groupies deserve your own free copy, you might change your mind when I spring this fact on you:

Most of my expenses after profits will go to various charities, hopefully a different one every three months.

I say "most" simply so I have some wiggle room. If I say "I'm giving ALL my profits to charity," I won't feel right about holding back money for expenses I know are upcoming. I'm not doing this to make a profit. I'm doing this for these reasons:

1. I have something you guys have said you want.

2. No one else seems overly willing to help me get it to you ("No one else" meaning any of the people in publishing I've approached over the years, except for the one agent who went poof.)

3. I can.

4. I've always wanted to be a great philanthropist. Growing up in the shadow of Andrew Carnegie will do that to you, I suppose. Or all those lessons from the rabbis about the importance of tzedakah -- charity -- sunk in. You pick.

5. I'm curious to know how many copies of this little book I'll sell.

6. It's not always easy to search a blog's archives. This way, you'll have at least a third (or so) of the ShapeShifter fiction that'll be easier to refer back to.

7. I have lots more outtakes we can do this with... Year 2 wrapped up last April, and we're in the middle of year 3 now.

So... there you go. Much better than listening to me rave about how actor Shemar Moore was featured in this month's Bicycling Magazine, right?

(btw, this is only the beginning... look for some fun stuff to wear and a few other surprises in the next few months, given the speed at which the Tour Manager and I move lately. If you have an idea for a t-shirt, give a holler! I'm sure we can work something out...)

BTT: Coupling

2008-10-23T07:50:00.000-04:00

At first glance, this week's Booking Through Thursday is a great question:

“Name a favorite literary couple and tell me why they are a favorite. If you cannot choose just one, that is okay too. Name as many as you like–sometimes narrowing down a list can be extremely difficult and painful. Or maybe that’s just me.”

Well, of course my favorite couple is Mitchell and Kerri. That goes without saying. I created them. (And wait until you see the couple I'm working on now!)

But then I began to think a little more deeply about the books I've read lately. Know what?

I can't name any relatively recent couples.

There are a bunch of triangles -- and I like triangles -- roaming around out there. Colleen Gleason's got Max and Sebastian. I haven't read Stephanie Meyer, but it sounds like there's a triangle with Edward and some other dude.

Notice something else? Those are both series I've just named.

There hasn't been a great epic novel in a long time -- epic like Gone with the Wind epic. Those are the novels that let us really get to know a couple, to allow us readers to spend enough time with them that they become alive. So now we need the series novels to make that happen.

Except...

A lot of the series I've been reading -- Kim Harrison comes to mind, as does Rachel Vincent, although I'm not current on either series (and what does that tell you about how frequently books are being pumped out lately?) -- don't have couples in them, per se. They feature women and men and yeah, there's some attraction and chemistry, but the characters don't couple off. Not permanently, and at least not up through the books I have gotten to (so many series...).

Yet then there's Queen Betsy, and Sookie Stackhouse... (Although again, I'm far from being current on either series)

Another exception to this rule that isn't holding up worth a dedication page: Jennifer Estep's Bigtime series. These three novels all feature the classic romance formula: boy and girl meet, boy and girl make the long-term commitment. Boy and girl also return in the other books in the series, albeit in limited roles, so that we readers can revisit old friends. (But not, you'll note, continue to get to know them)

But as for couples like Rhett and Scarlett, I just don't think we're seeing as many of them anymore. Society's changed. Our wants as readers have changed.

Or have they?

Fiction Outtake: Rusty's Place (Trevor's Song Era)

2008-10-19T22:01:00.000-04:00

So this was it, Trevor thought as he followed Mitchell off the elevator and down the narrow, dark hallway. This was the other love shack, the one Mitchell bonked Rusty in when he wasn't doing her in his own place. Trevor wasn't so sure he wanted to go in. Hell, he wasn't sure why Mitchell wanted in Rusty, but the big idiot had never been the smartest thing around when it came to girls.

At least the door to Rusty's place was cool: floor to ceiling and on these rollers that made a great noise when Mitchell pulled it open. It looked old and industrial and was almost as interesting as his place.

The first thing Trevor noticed was the space. Huge. Empty. A few ugly couches, a few lights set around them like he'd seen at photo shoots the band had been on. And a drafting desk, white, facing the couches.

A couple of mismatched throw rugs on the floor. Rusty's bike by the door, and hooks for keys and shit. Not hooks, he realized as he looked closer. Carabiners. They made stealing her keys pretty fucking hard, the way they were rigged, there. It was almost a good idea.

Behind the drafting desk, he saw a couple of stools, one of which held Her Rustiness. Her shadow fell behind her on one of those screens for privacy that had some soothing nature scene painted on it. That must be her living space back there, but damn if Trevor could see any of it. Damn if Trevor wanted to see it.

He hated to admit it, but the whole place added up to some sort of artsy style. A little too serious to be a student's digs but at the same time it was obvious she wasn't on easy street. If this wasn't Rusty's place, he might even have been able to respect the person who lived here.

"Hey, you're here," she said from behind that drafting desk. She lifted her head and pierced him with those damn eyes of hers. Trevor still didn't understand how Mitchell had found a girl who had the famous Voss eyes.

"Yep," Mitchell said, crossing the couch area and going over to Rusty. He put his hands on her waist and kissed her like he was trying to crawl down her throat. All of him, not just his tongue.

Trevor looked around, wondering where the bathroom was. Just in case bad judgment got the better of him and he decided not to yak on her floor. Watching her clean up that mess would be sublime -- assuming Mitchell didn't make him do it himself, which the idiot would probably do. After all, Rusty might get her precious self dirty or something.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It hadn't hit him; it couldn't be Mitchell. That meant…

He jumped again, away from Rusty this time. He gave her a quick once-over: paint-covered sweatpants that used to be grey and a sorta snug but not tight t-shirt. He couldn't deny she had a good shape. Even worse, the paint streaks brought that out.

That she was barefoot didn't surprise him. Mitchell would have to fall for someone who hated clothes as much as he did. It was that simple, until you got to the eyes. That was just fucking freaky.

"Hi, Trev," she said like he hadn't just handed out this insult by getting away from her touch. Sometimes, he thought she was clueless, but then he looked in those eyes and knew better. The Queen of Polite, that's what he ought to call her. Maybe he would -- except Rusty fit so much better. And it pissed her off.

Trevor realized he had no cranky comeback for her. Nothing about the lack of walls helping make sure she didn't get lost. Nothing about the high ceilings or those couches. Nothing.

Mitchell growled and stuck an elbow in his ribs. Trevor glared at him and reached for his cigarettes.

"Let's get rolling," Mitchell said.

"I need to change," Rusty said. She vanished behind the stupid screen.

"You can't change enough," Trevor told her and placed an unlit cigarette in its usual place at the corner of his mouth.

"How did I know you'd say that?" she asked. It was weird, talking to her like this. He couldn't see her but nothing was muffling her voice. It was like talking to someone who was invisible. Then again, life would be better if she wasn't there at all.

"Maybe you're a fucking clairvoyant or something."

"Maybe I'm just smart," she said, coming around the screen all dressed in jeans and another t-shirt, this one without paint on it. "We ready?" She held her arm out. Mitchell grabbed it and wound it around his waist.

Trevor tried not to gag. "I'm readier than you'll ever know," he said.
"Good thing," she said as Mitchell took a swipe at the back of Trevor's head. It wasn't hard; just enough to remind him to watch himself. Like he'd do anything else here in Rusty's lair. If she'd used it to snag Mitchell, there was no telling what she'd do to him.

So you've met Trevor, Mitchell, and Kerri over the past week. Now you get to see them in action, as part of the Sunday Scribblings prompt.

I don't know about this one. For those of you who're regulars, I'm going to drive you NUTS when I say this: it feels like it belongs right inside of Trevor's Song. Sorry, but it's true.

Stay tuned for news on how to help get that book into your hands. There's a lot brewing behind the scenes here. And yes, you'll like it all.

Fast Facts: Kerri Voss

2008-10-17T15:02:00.001-04:00

In my fictional world, there are lots of triangles. One of them will only be seen when you finally get to read Trevor's Song.

One of the other triangles involves Trevor, Mitchell, and Mitchell's wife, Kerri. You've already met the boys here and here. So now it's time for the girl.

1. Kerri Voss left her hometown of Pittsburgh because she'd been accepted at the very picky Riverview Art Academy. Kerri was going to be an artist.

2. Although Kerri liked to turn her radio to KRVR when she worked, she couldn't have identified a single member of ShapeShifter even after the day she noticed the hot blonde in a leather biker jacket looking over the tomatoes in her favorite grocery store. And even then, it took a few weeks -- and a driver's license -- before she realized the hot blonde wasn't a struggling musician like he'd initially led her to believe.

3. Even though ShapeShifter fans are introduced to Mitchell's wife in a variety of ways (she'll play tech during his shows and help him switch guitars, and bands always need artwork, don't they? T-shirts, album covers, website design...), Kerri won't talk about her pre-Mitchell life, except to say she went to Riverview Art. Anything before that strangely doesn't exist.

4. Trevor's nicknamed her Rusty. Gotta read Trevor's Song to find out why. But in typical Trevor fashion, there's more than one easy reason.

5. The physical: she's about five-nine, which plays nicely with Mitchell's six-one. She's got a willowy, dancer build although she was too busy pulling pranks to do something as serious as dance. And she's got that deep red hair that fades to brown with age -- unless it's, as Trevor suspects, enhanced. Or is it?

Although Kerri doesn't have a huge role in this outtake, it's still one of my favorites. And it'll show you a bit of this triangle in action.

Fast Facts: Mitchell Voss

2008-10-14T21:32:00.000-04:00

If you missed the other day's post, I'm offering a few quick notes about the main characters who run around this joint like they're real people. To many of us, they are.

I did Trevor first, of course. No, wait. We're talking about Trevor, so let me rephrase. I did not DO Trevor. I wrote about him. He's not real, remember. A real person can only fantasize. But then, so does Trevor. And so does his best friend.

Anyway, that brings us to...

Mitchell Voss.

1. Let's start with the physical: six-one. Keeps fit by spending so many hours in swimming pools, his silvery-blonde hair turns green. Hazel eyes that look right through Trevor and annoy him to no end.

2. Trevor's the closest thing he's got to a brother. He's actually got two older sisters. One's a doctor and lives nearby. The other is a mom and lives out of Riverview.

3. A large part of the ShapeShifter dynamic is the Frick and Frack, Heckle and Jeckle, Lucy and Ethel that goes on between Mitchell and Trevor. It's been this way since Mitchell dreamed of a band and Trevor decided to make it happen.

4. It's rare to find Mitchell without a guitar in hand. The man oozes music and for better or for worse, there's not much more to him than music. But does there need to be more?

5. Many of my long-time groupies have come to love Mitchell more than Trevor. He's moody, sensitive, and the calm in the face of Trevor's storm. He's also completely devoted to his wife, Kerri, in ways that all us married women wish our husbands really, truly were like. No matter how great our husbands.

(okay, now. Who was this post REALLY about? I told you that Trevor rules the roost around here!)

Want more Mitchell?

This link will take you to one of my favorite Year 2 outtakes.

This link will take you to his bio page. Like with Trevor's page, there are lots of links for you to have fun with. Focus on those, not the bio. Looks like I need to rewrite it. Yikes!

Fast Facts: Trevor Wolff

2008-10-12T07:42:00.002-04:00

There have been a number of new faces around these parts lately. In an attempt to bring you up to speed and help you understand all the fuss and hoopla, here are some fast facts about the (fictional) man known to many as Trevor Wolff.

1. He stands five foot ten. Really. Truly.

2. He weighs about 120. Soaking Wet.
Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but not by much. Trevor's one of those skinny guys, almost scrawny, with the flat, hollowed-out chest and a little tuft of chest hair dead-center over the breast bone.

3. His nose has been broken more times than he can count. It's ugly, misshapen, and has a hook in it. But it works and he'll take it.

4. When it comes to being a member of ShapeShifter, his value isn't in his bass playing. Far from it, in fact. In some circles, Trevor is known as the luckiest no-talent on the planet. Some say even hard work can't save him. But the band is Trevor's vision of Mitchell's dream, and no one can imagine a Trevor-less ShapeShifter.

5. Here at the Meet and Greet, Trevor often rules the roost -- no small feat for a fictional character. As we get closer to the annual Musical Hanukkah Celebration that ShapeShifter throws every year, you'll be seeing more of him again.

I know you groupies will be pleased.

Want to know more? Want to see Trevor in action? Use this link to be taken to his bio page. At the bottom of the page -- well, taking up most of it these days -- are a bunch of links. Click yourself into Trevor nirvana.

Pam Fiction: Pregnant Women

2008-10-09T20:49:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I know I'm not the smartest girl who ever walked the Earth. I mean, if I couldn't figure that out in school, then maybe I am too stupid to live, like those rich bitches used to say I was.

But I'm not. Know how I know that? It's because I know something that a bunch of smarties at some university back East had to study for years to figure out. I'm a health professional. Them, they're eggheads. That's how I got to know this so much faster.

Pregnant women who exercise have less depression.

Like I didn't know that? Hello?

I can totally see it on the faces of my pregger students. How they walk in all achy and complaining and maybe sorry they've done this to themselves but of course they can't admit that. I watch them careful 'cause, you know, they're pregnant and all. As class goes on, those aches go away. Their bodies gear up and get in the groove. I see their faces relax. Their hunched shoulders drop. They smile. By the time they leave, it's all good and being pregnant is the best thing in the world.

It's simple. Exercise makes you feel good. It makes you feel like your body's under your control. I've never been pregnant but my students say that sometimes, their body feels out of control. That it's doing all these things and they can't stop it and they can barely watch because some of it's ugly. Their body knows what to do and it goes and does it and the heck with what their brain wants!

This is why I do what I do. I never feel as good or as alive or as sexy or anything as I do after I've worked out. I don't feel dumb when it's me up there leading the class. I'm not dumb when they come to me and ask why something hurts.

And I'm sure not dumb when I know that exercise makes pregnant women less depressed.

Now if only Mitchell Voss would see how not dumb I am. And that I'm only with Trevor until Mitchell notices. I mean, how much closer does a girl have to get? Hello? I'm right here with your best friend, buddy! Open your eyes. I'm waiting.

With Yom Kippur ending, pregnancy and kids are on my mind (see this post for why) and ... well, I felt like it.

If you'd like more of Pam, click here.

Susan's Fashion File: The Promised Cool Shit

2008-10-06T22:50:00.000-04:00

The cool thing about EntreCard is that I'm meeting some extremely cool artists who use their blogs to advertise their Etsy shop and their handmade goods. (And frequently, the handmade goodies of others, too.) I found a great bracelet from The Beaded Tail that I've added to the stack on my right forearm. It looks perfect.

The bad thing about Etsy is finding this. I don't wear a lot of rings, usually just my bridal set and either a pinky ring that began life as my baby ring or else my Mommy ring. But that? I'd make an exception. Whoo boy, that's for me.

The price is great, too. I can't say as much for the next line of clothing I found. Remember how we thought $67 for a hoodie was too much money?

Then do not -- DO NOT, I say click on this link for Yellowman clothing.

Yeah. You're as sorry as I am.

Hey, Yellowman people? Total Skull people? If you'll be so kind as to send me some clothes, I'll go have an author picture taken in them. The Tour Manager and I are revamping my website; we'll make the picture look good. We'll give you credit. Lots of it.

C'mon... publicity for the cost of a shirt. You know you want to!

Susan's Inside Writing: The Banned Book

2008-10-05T09:00:00.000-04:00

I really shouldn't be surprised at the demand to find out what the banned book in the previous outtake was.

And okay, you caught me. There is a book in mind. The book that inspired this whole outtake, in fact.

I don't remember the entire story, as I've done my best to block out most of my high school years (despite running into a former classmate yesterday on her way to her wedding), but here's what I do recall:

It was senior year. One of the most popular teachers was the wrestling coach, who taught two classes for seniors: government, which was for the higher-thinking students, and survival skills, which was for the kids who weren't going to college. It was a class about how to get a car loan, how to manage a credit card... you know. Survival skills.

I took government and loved the teacher. Loved his style: energetic, demanding, and never ever humiliating. If you fell asleep in his class, he didn't make a big deal of it. He just handed you a detention slip on your way out the door. (although I remember him giving one to Gorgeous Jimmy during class. Woke the poor guy up, too, when that paper slid under his arm.)

So I took survival skills the next semester, even though it was "beneath" me, everyone said. Like learning how to be financially responsible is beneath ANYone? (Nope, not going to get all political here. Sorry.)

Anyway, it was this teacher who told me that our school district had banned ONE book in district history. ONE. And he had a copy of it. If I didn't tell anyone, he'd slip it to me and let me read it on the QT, at home. I wasn't allowed to tell anyone where I'd gotten it, how I'd heard of it, or anything.

I should feel bad about breaking this confidence, but it's been almost 20 years. (Yep, I'm that old) It's also something I've -- clearly -- never forgotten. The whole experience had this much impact on me. It's one of my few good memories of high school.

The book was Johnny Got His Gun. Here's how Powells.com describes it:

Johnny Got His Gun holds a place as one of the classic antiwar novels. First published in 1939, Dalton Trumbo's story of a young American soldier terribly maimed in World War I — he "survives" armless, legless, and faceless, but with mind intact — was an immediate bestseller. This fiercely moving novel was a rallying point for many Americans who came of age during World War II, and it became perhaps the most popular novel of protest during the Vietnam era.

Let me tell you, if I hadn't been anti-war before reading this book, there's no way you can put it down and still be anti-war. It WAS disturbing, and that was the reason it had been banned (I believe that the school actually used to teach it, which is something I think SHOULD be done with controversial books. Informed minds and all...). It was also excruciating to read. I mean, there's little dialogue 'cause the main character has no face. There's no action 'cause the guy can't exactly walk around with no legs.

This story doesn't end here, though. You music fans may recognize the book title. It inspired a rather famous song (and a band's first music video, which set the entire world of videos on its ear and ushered in the Golden Era of Hetfield.). Yup, around the time I was reading Johnny Got His Gun, so were a couple of guys who played in a band you might have heard of: Metallica. The song? One.

You know, I've never been able to listen to One comfortably. It brings back memories of sitting on my mom's couch with that book, thinking all these angry thoughts about how stupid war is, and how powerless I was to change the world and get rid of war. It brings back memories of that excruciating reading experience.

Hard as it was, it changed me.

And for that, I'd like to thank that wrestling coach-cum-teacher.

Fiction Outtake: Banned Books (The Early Years)

2008-10-04T09:29:00.001-04:00

Trevor stifled his smile and handed the list to Mr. Bautista. The English teacher gave it a quick glance and handed it back. "I know you hate me, but trying to get me fired is pushing it. Even for you."

"No one's gonna fire your ass. These are just books."

"Books which I'm forbidden to teach to my students."

"You said the whole point of this was for us to teach you something. So I'm gonna teach you why it's stupid to want to ban all these books."

Mr. Bautista stood up, looking down at his desk. He pursed his lips.

Trevor waited, curious. He'd either wind up in detention again or else he'd be doing a book report on Huck Finn. Either option was fine with him.

"I hate it when you put me in these positions," the English teacher said heavily. He looked up, and for a second there, Trevor identified with the look on the guy's face. "But I have to uphold the school's ban. Why not Tom Sawyer? It and Huck go together like best friends."

"Tom Sawyer doesn't put people's panties in a bunch."

Mr. Bautista held up a hand. "Language, Trevor. Restate that, please."

"It doesn't piss people off?"

He got one of those looks that told him he was trying to kid a kidder and it wasn't welcome.

"People don't object to it," he said in his most dramatic, sullen way. He even scuffed at the floor. No one seemed to care. Times like this, he really hated the English teacher. The guy almost never played along the way he was supposed to.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do," Mr. Bautista said. "You want to stir your classmates up and try to rally them to make a stand. You're right to want to do so. In some parts of the country, you'd be brave to be trying this because some parents would call to have you expelled for even showing me this list."

"This isn't some parts of the country," Trevor said. "This is Riverview, the city that tolerates everything and everyone. So what's so wrong with a stupid book?"

"Some people feel that books give students the wrong ideas."

"I'm not some people," Trevor said.

"Then you need to stand up and be heard. All of you," Mr. Bautista said, leaning to the side so he could see the class lined up behind Trevor. "Why are you letting nameless, faceless people dictate what you can and can't read? Who said those people are the morality police? Why are you willing to let them define which ideas are right and which are wrong?"

Trevor's classmates squirmed uncomfortably. It was up to Trevor, of course, to answer.

"You know, we all show up for the Gay Parade and love it. But we can't read a book with a guy named Nigger Jim in it? That's his name. What's the big deal?"

"I don't make the rules, Trevor. In this case, I don't even agree with them, but if I want to pay off my car, I've got to follow them."

"Don't you ever get tired of being a sheep?"

"Of course I do. When I was your age," Mr. Bautista gestured again at the class, "I wanted to read every banned book, too. So I did -- outside of the classroom, where no one could stop me. And you're right, Trevor. Once I read them, I realized they were no big deal. Except for one thing."

He held up a finger and every kid in the classroom, including Trevor, leaned forward to hear what their teacher had to say. "Those books were what made me fall in love with literature. They're what made me want to be a teacher. If you want to read these books outside of school and put together a discussion group at someone's house, please do! Expand your worlds, your brains. Read the books that were banned and the ones that weren't. Learn all you can about literature and then come back and tell me if you've learned to agree about the pointlessness of banning books. All it does is make every single last one of you want to read them!"

Trevor squirmed. No wonder he didn't like this guy; he got to all Trevor's great rants before he could do it himself.

"Look," Mr. Bautista said, "I'll make you a deal, Trevor. You do the report on Tom Sawyer. Focus on Tom and Becky and their relationship--"

"I'm not reading some sappy love story!"

"Read the book and see for yourself what I'm talking about." Mr. Bautista leaned forward and dropped his voice so no one else in line behind Trevor could hear. "If you do that, I'll share a book of my own with you. It's one I could get fired for even telling you the title of, the school board is that uptight about it."

Trevor's eyes sparkled. If it was that forbidden, it was for him, all right.

"Deal?" Mr. Bautista said, leaning back and nodding at the next few kids in line.

"Deal," Trevor said, nodding firmly.

Mr. Bautista pointed at the door. Trevor gave him a wild look. "What'd I do now?"

"It's not what you did, Trevor. It's what you're about to do. Go down to the library and get yourself a copy of Tom Sawyer while I okay everyone else's picks."

He hoped the nerdy kids all wanted Tom Sawyer. He couldn't wait to see their faces when he got up and made his report. That meant he had to put them to shame.

Those losers? It shouldn't be hard, he decided and headed off to the library, letting short little Carolyn take that final step up to Mr. Bautista's desk, her list trembling.

Trevor wondered if that was because she wanted to read Lady Chatterly's Lover. The quiet girls like Carolyn, they liked that racy stuff. She'd probably get to do it, too. That one hadn't been banned.

Trevor knew that. Trevor knew every last book that had been banned; he'd memorized the lists.

He could hardly wait to see which one Mr. Bautista was going to slip him. It better be good.

I know you want to know more about the mystery book. While I don't answer the question directly, here's a response that ought to satisfy anyway.

Susan Speaks: I've Escaped!

2008-10-02T15:22:00.000-04:00

I'm so sick of Blogger refusing to acknowledge that I'm not a spammer (I've filled out their "take another look and convince yourself I'm right" form six times now. SIX.) that I've escaped and gone to visit other spots on the Web.

First off is a visit to my good friend Breeni. She decided to do a bunch of Halloween-themed books and like the usual non-traditional thinker that I am, I stumbled onto something pretty horrific. Go check it out.

And secondly is an interview I did with J. Kaye at her Book Blog. It started to be about my Win a Book blog, but I mentioned something that I probably should have shared with you guys first. And that's that I've got a neat little book coming your way. Go read all about Win a Book (and add it to your reader!) -- and my neat little book. After all, you guys asked for it.

There will, of course, be more about it soon. A LOT more. Breeni's so excited about it, she's decided to be my publicist. I hope you guys share her excitement.

So that's the news. I'll resume my mantle of Queen of the Not Spam Blog soon; Trevor needs to have his say about Banned Book Week, don't you think?

(oh, and do I have some cool shit to share!)

Susan's Featured New Release: Cat and Mouse

2008-10-01T07:51:00.000-04:00

Since it's October first, we're not going to mourn the loss of my favorite temporary XM Radio station. Nope. Not gonna do it.

Instead, we're going to focus on the good and exciting. Today, that means a new release from my writer bud, Shelley Munro.

The book is called Cat and Mouse. Here's a blurb from Shelley's website:

Every woman has sexual needs. Lana Sinclair, feline shapeshifter and widow, is more than ready for a fun night with a likeminded male. Hot lovin’ is compulsory because she’s determined to scratch the itch that’s driving her crazy. This time, career-girl Lana is picking a malleable male who won’t try to corral her into the housewife role.

Fellow shifter Duncan Ross is the perfect candidate. The cowboy follows the rodeo circuit and is only in Middlemarch for the bull riding. One night of mutual seduction, slick, naked bodies and pleasure then he’ll be on his way.

Duncan is astonished when Lana propositions him, but no one could ever call him stupid. He’s always desired Lana and now that she’s ready for sex, he’s all action. It’s time to lasso the woman of his dreams with some sweet lovin’ and charm, a sexy massage and ropes spliced together with addictive pleasure. He’ll seduce her to his way of thinking—a permanent arrangement. This is one go-round Duncan is determined to win.

Woo! Sounds like a good one, Shelley! (If you're over 18, you can read an excerpt by following that same link listed above.)

And since this is a Featured New Release, I HAD to ask the question:

What song makes you think of this book.

Here's what Shelley said:

When I think of Cat and Mouse I think of the Garth Brooks' song Rodeo. In Cat and Mouse the tables are turned because my heroine wants one night with the hero. She doesn't want the bother of having him around all the time and is happy for him to travel the rodeo circuit unlike the woman in the song. Duncan, however, has other ideas and he's a sneaky feline shifter. Lana doesn't know what's hit her...

Here's a link to YouTube and a video of Rodeo. Man, that opening riff is addictive...

Check out Cat and Mouse and think of Garth as you do...

Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Behold Me

2008-09-28T11:20:00.002-04:00

Now, if you know Chelle LaFleur like you supposed to know Chelle LaFleur, you know all too well what sort of ShapeShifter fan I am. I am sayin' right here and now that I could go head to head with any other ShapeShifter fan out there and beat 'em when it comes to trivia. And that any other fan bit? It includes their own Mommas and Poppas. Maybe even the boys, themselves.

So I don't know what local townie Bradley thinks he's doin'. Oh, no, not the gettin' married part. That's the part that makes sense. So do all the wedding plans, with the flowers and the cake and fire hall and the decorations and all that.

Where it all falls apart is where he looks at me and says, "Hey, Chelle, what do you think about us using Behold Me as our first dance song?"

Okay, now. No one's exactly lining up to marry ol' Chelle's fat self here, so maybe I'm a little bit out of touch with what's hot in the world of weddin's these days. Maybe I am. I'll say that up front. But last time I checked, you was supposed to pick a slow song, something that gives a man and a woman reason to snuggle up in each others' arms while everyone watches and coos about how cute you are. Behold Me is no slow song. So Bradley, what's your plan, boy? You and your beautiful bride gonna hold hands and lead the head banging? You really think Great-Grandma's gonna get what you two be doin'? Won't she fall out of her wheelchair if she tries to follow along?

Now, Chelle here sees another problem entirely with this plan of Bradley's. And that problem's the meanin' of the song. Behold Me isn't some sappy plea from the outcast high school girl who wants to get herself noticed by the quarterback. Oh, no, sir-ree. Behold Me's about more substantial stuff.

Just to make sure Chelle was hearin' things right, I went right to the source. My main man, Mitchell Voss.

Now, you all know about Mitchell Voss. They call him a dragon, and for good reason. So Chelle here wasn't exactly expectin' to hear laughter when she told Voss what was up.

"They want to what?" he asked and nope, there weren't no laughin' going on. At least, I don't think that noise was laughin'. Count me in that group who thinks that boy don't know how to laugh.

I told that handsome man I was callin' him to see if the song's about what I'm thinkin' it's about. And like I said, ol' Chelle may be fat and slow, but no one knows ShapeShifter better.

"Behold Me is a song about a homeless guy who wants to be noticed and seen. Maybe helped," Voss said. "There's nothing romantic about it. I mean, s---, this is ShapeShifter we're talking about. We don't do romance.

"On the other hand," he said, "more power to this couple if the song holds that much meaning for them. Maybe one of them was homeless. Who knows? It's not the song I'd pick and no, Chelle, don't ask. I'm not telling you a damn thing about my life."

Boys and girls, lemme tell you somethin'. When Mitchell Voss married that pretty little artist of his, do you know who the first media person he called was? Do you know how many dreams of Chelle LaFleur's got trashed with that phone call to that first rock reporter? And that boy thinks he ain't gonna tell me a "damn thing" about his life?

Seems that Bradley's pulling a Mitchell Voss on me, too. Chelle picked up the phone and tracked that boy down, but if he knows why he and his lady picked Behold Me for their first dance, he ain't sayin'. Whatever.

You heard it first and you heard it here, right outta the horse's lips. Behold Me's a song about homeless people, not the adorin' gaze of lust.

Once again this week, I had a million ideas when I saw this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: wedding. I thought of letting Pam dream about her wedding to Mitchell. Lyric was going to put together special wedding baskets in the store. I even played with ideas for Roadie Poet and Deadly Metal Hatchet.

In the end this won. Hope you like.

For more Chelle, use this link.

For more Mitchell, use this link.

For more ShapeShifter, use this link.

BTT: Well, that was different!

2008-09-25T15:51:00.000-04:00

I like this week's Booking Through Thursday question. Here it is:

What was the most unusual (for you) book you ever read? Either because the book itself was completely from out in left field somewhere, or was a genre you never read, or was the only book available on a long flight… whatever? What (not counting school textbooks, though literature read for classes counts) was furthest outside your usual comfort zone/familiar territory?

And, did you like it? Did it stretch your boundaries? Did you shut it with a shudder the instant you were done? Did it make you think? Have nightmares? Kick off a new obsession?

You know what? I can't answer that so easily.

I've got two degrees in English and while I like to laugh and brag about having managed to avoid many of the classics, I've also read things that, at the time, stretched my boundaries.

Moby Dick and the Scarlet Letter. Two classics (and possibly what turned me off the entire genre of classics) that convinced me that I could read the damn things out loud and still not retain much of anything that I read.

In college, it was old texts like Beowulf, which I loved. That opened the door to Grendel, which was brilliant. (No, I have not yet seen the movies.) Those were all good experiences, but did they turn me into raving fangirls?? Nope.

Fast forward to grad school. Experimental writers like David Bowman's Let the Dog Drive (a book still on my shelf). Carole Maso. Kathy Acker. Metafiction. Interesting, but not for me.

And literary writers, too. Anne Panning, who was a classmate. Susan Sontag. E. Annie Proulx. Sadly, like the metafiction and experimental stuff, it didn't do much for me. It's nicely written literature, sure. But not what jazzes me.

And despite how difficult most Latin American literature is, some of it is so achingly beautiful that it makes me cry. One Hundred Years of Solitude. The House of the Spirits.

But some of it? Ick. I may still have a copy of The Aleph on my shelf but that's more because after all I went through to get it, I'm not parting with it so fast.

Now, as an out-of-school writer and mom, I read whatever makes me happy. Right now, it's Edwidge Danticat's The Dew Breaker. And a SciFi by Gregory Benford. I like to read all sorts of different things, not just the same old, same old.

Part of the fun of participating in sites that blog about books, be they blogs by authors or blogs by book lovers, is exposing myself to new stuff. The nice thing about a book you don't like is that you can close it and give it away.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Sorry for the lack of buy links over to Powells.com. The kids got home from school as I was composing this and I need to go hang with them. If any of these titles grab you, head on over to your nearest independent bookstore -- even if it's an online one -- and pick up your own copy.

Awards and awards and ... more awards?

2008-09-23T20:22:00.000-04:00

I know I've mentioned here before how much I have come to adore Winter.

It seems the feeling is mutual, because she's now given me the Beary Best Award.

Here are the rules:

1. The Beary Best Award is given to those people who we want to know we care… just because
2. See rule #1

Don’t forget that the bear award should link back to Dawg. If you need the code click here.

On the other end of the spectrum is Toni, from It Is Nap Time. Not that I don't love her, but that she doesn't show up in my comment trail nearly as often as Winter does. Comments, though, don't indicate who's reading or else I wouldn't be on Toni's mind.

She's given me the Kick-Ass Blogger award, which might be like the Rockin' Wench blogger award Rhian gave me back when she was still around (how I miss Rhian). Regardless, it's always nice to see that you guys love me.

Next on the list is the awesome Maunie, who I mostly know because we're both Blue Ribbon Bloggers together.

She's created a new award, and I'm special enough to be one of the first people who gets to paste it on her blog. Check it here: It's the Purr-fect Blog award. Wow. Man, that makes me feel good, especially on those dark nights when throwing in the towel seems like the world's best idea.

I've made a new friend, too. Dori, who blogs From a Yellow House in England. Dori's cool; if you haven't met her yet, please do. She's given me the Gold Card, the BFF Gold Card to be more specific. We're new friends, so this is also special.

So... let me pass these babies on...

... but for a change, my mind draws a blank. Completely.

Ouch.

If you ever need inspiration, check out Frigga's two blogs: Any Apples and Through Frigga's Eyes. This woman has a talent with the camera.

So does Janet, at Fond of Snape.

A new friend is over at Writing to Survive. Want to read some fabulous writing? Here's your place to do it.

More good writing can be found both at Alice Audrey's place and at the Romance Roundtable. (and not just because Alice posts links to my own stuff at the Roundtable.)

... and yet more great writing. Penelope Anne, aka Sassy Mama Bear. She's got multiple blogs, but here's her writing blog.

Into reading fiction (other than mine) online? Check out Steal Tomorrow, my friend Ann's serial. If you get hooked on the thrice-weekly posts and need to read more, you can buy a copy of the book and be a know-it-all.

And for some really achingly beautiful poetry, try Black Tie and Sneakers. With a blog name like that, you know it's up my alley.

So there you go. New faces, new friends. Pick your award and display it proudly. In the meantime, this is apparently only part one of this post... part two will show up ... uh... one day. I promise!

100 Words: Yearning

2008-09-21T16:00:00.000-04:00

Maybe if she wasn't who she was, she wouldn't understand it so utterly. Maybe she wouldn't smile when she woke up to find her arm being chorded, her hip being strummed.

She did understand it, though. She had similar pulls: to draw, to sketch. To make a piece of paper come alive with an image. His music, her art… together, they were a team whose creations couldn't intersect. It was a team of space-giving and passion-nurturing, of speaking a language few could hear.

He said she was his muse. She knew he was hers.

Who knew where they could go?

Wow. Here it is, all these years after I created Mitchell, Kerri, Trevor and the fictional city of Riverview, USA.

This is the root of what I was trying to create, the Mitchell-Kerri dynamic. Somehow Trevor snuck in there and upstaged them, but when you get down to it, this is where it all began.

The 100 word prompt this week at Velvet Verbosity's blog is yearning.

I do, however, still yearn to bring you a book. Stay tuned.

Lyric Fiction: The Invitation

2008-09-19T21:20:00.002-04:00

The envelope was the opposite of engraved. The letters were raised, and they were shiny. And dark blue. The whole thing was totally out of her league. It was nothing like Lyric had ever seen, and Lyric considered herself pretty worldly at thirteen.

"Is there one for me, too?" Allegra asked, reaching for the rest of the mail.

"No," Lyric said, staring glassy-eyed at the envelope. It was addressed to Miss Lyric Maker. It looked fancy, classy. And someone had sent it to her.

"Do you think it's a joke?"

Lyric turned the envelope over. It was heavy in her hand, like the paper was really expensive. Melody had shown them fancy paper like this once. Lyric couldn't remember why they were in a store that sold it, but they had been, and Melody had picked it up and let the girls touch it. The saleslady had frowned at them like they weren't good enough to be touching such expensive stuff. Lyric had thrown her a defiant look and really felt the paper. Even under her fingertips, it had been weighty. And smooth, like ice.

The return address on the back was also blue and shiny and raised. It had a name Lyric recognized. Schwartz.

"It's from Slippy."

"Oh," Allegra said. "No wonder I didn't get one." She turned away and flipped through the rest of the mail.

Lyric shrugged and tried to slide her finger under the flap, wanting to open it as gracefully and carefully as paper this rich deserved.

"I don't know why you like her," Allegra said. "She's strange."

"She's just quiet. Once you get her talking, she's really funny." Lyric slid the pages out. There was a reply envelope, in the same lush cream color and with the same raised blue letters. It even had a stamp already on it. Tucked under the envelope's flap was the reply card. It matched the envelopes, and it invited her to a special dinner dance. There were lines where she could pick if she wanted steak, chicken, or a special vegetarian meal.

"What is this?" Lyric asked, handing the reply card to Allegra. Her twin looked at it and shrugged.

There was a bigger piece of paper, too. One with a piece of tissue paper covering it. Lyric took away the tissue paper and looked at the paper underneath. A silver piece of paper had been glued between two pieces of the cream: one bigger and one smaller. The smaller one had writing on it, inviting Lyric to the Bat Mitzvah of Tziporah Hadassah Schwartz.

"Ooh," Allegra said. "Religion. Think Mom'll let you go?"

"Go where, girls?" Melody said, walking through the door. Her purse swung on her wrist and she wore oversized Jackie Kennedy sunglasses. And a plastic rain bonnet over her bottle blonde hair even though it wasn't raining. It completed the look, so it was necessary.

Allegra snatched the invitation and ran over to Melody with it. "A Bat Mitzvah?" Melody asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards. "They invited someone from our family to a religious event? Are they aware of who we are?"

"Slippy's been telling me about it," Lyric said. "She's been studying for almost a year and she gets to read from this sacred book. She says it's a big deal. I'm glad she wants me to see it."

And then it came. The question neither twin had wanted to face. "Why you, honey? They're not," Melody paused and turned her head so she could give Lyric a sidelong look, "going to make fun of my princess, are they?"

"I don't think so, Mom. Slippy and I are … well, we're not friends. But we talk. And she's nice. I like her."

"Do you think they know who you are?"

"Mom," Allegra said, "how could they address an envelope to Lyric Maker and not know who she is? C'mon. Everyone on the planet knows who we are."

"I want to go," Lyric said quietly. "I like Slippy, and maybe this is a chance to show them that the Maker girls aren't all trashy sex people. That we're respectable, just like everyone else."

"To a religious event!" Melody screeched, her hand to her chest and her eyes wide, like this was the most outrageous thing she'd ever heard.

"Why not?" Lyric said, ignoring the show. If she got sucked in, she'd forget what she wanted, and then Mom would win and Lyric wouldn't get to see Slippy doing this chanting thing she'd been talking about. Lyric had too many questions to miss out on being there. Would Slippy fall into a trance? Would something majestic happen? What did a … what was the sort of place where this was happening?

Lyric took the invitation back and read it again. Temple Beth El. It sounded harmless enough. She even knew where it was.

"You're sure?" Melody asked.

Lyric nodded. "You're always saying that if people would take the time to get to know us, they'd realize there's more here than porn flicks." She held the invitation up. "Here's the chance to show them." She looked at the words again, the fancy, shiny blue letters, the cream paper, the muted silver middle layer. It screamed of taste and class and all those other things that the Maker girls were supposed to be missing. "Maybe Slippy and her mom will take us shopping, Mom. Show us what to wear to Temple Beth El?"

"Temple Beth El?" Allegra said, tilting Lyric's hand so she could read the invitation upside down. "What's an El?"

"Who's Beth?" Melody asked.

"I bet Harmony will wish there's a Temple Harmony El," Allegra said.

The three of them looked at each other and started to laugh.

"We've got a lot to learn," Melody said. "Let's get busy."

"How?" Lyric asked.

Melody plucked the invitation out of Lyric's hands. "We start by calling this Tziporah's mother and explaining that you'd love to come, but we don't know the customs and would she be kind enough to help out."

"Her family's pretty religious, Mom," Allegra said.

"Not so religious that they are leaving Lyric out. That's a start," Melody said.

"They might try to convert you," Allegra told Lyric, who shrugged. "What'll you do if they try?"

"Listen and learn," Melody said. "And come back home and tell us everything!"

Usually, posts involving Melody and her girls have to do with the fact that Melody Maker is not a music magazine but a famous porn star. This week's Sunday Scribblings Prompt took my thoughts in a different direction. I sort of like it, particularly Temple Harmony El. And Tziporah's nickname of Slippy.

Follow this link to learn more about Lyric and her family.

Giving You... Black Wolf on Tour

2008-09-19T12:44:00.003-04:00

This is a sticky post. Please scroll down for the good stuff!

It's a good thing that what you post in the Internet is there forever. I'd meant to give this book away to celebrate the posting of my review of it over at Front Street Reviews, where all of my book reviews find a home.

So it's a belated celebration, but one nonetheless.

You, too, can read Magnolia Belle's Black Wolf on Tour. You can even read MY copy of it.

Here are the rules:
1. Contest open world-wide. Hand delivery to Mars, since I'm West of you.
2. Contest open to past winners.
3. Leave a comment WITH CONTACT INFORMATION.
4. You have until Thursday the 18th of September.
5. Winner will be announced via a random drawing on 19 September. Watch this post for the update.

That's it. I reserve the right to disqualify you if you're a jerk, a spammer, or otherwise unpleasant in a non-Trevor Wolff-ish way.

h/t to Janicu, who figured out that this is the permalink to my review.

Congratulations to Janel, who is our winner! (and thanks to #2, who picked the winner)

Tagged, Trevor's it?

2008-09-16T12:11:00.000-04:00

My good friend Julia over at A Piece of My Mind tagged me for the Tag, You're It! meme. Except... she asked some of the boys to do it.

The timing of this fits nicely. I've got something in the works that'll allow you all to bring at least a piece of Trevor into your homes... stay tuned for that. But in the meantime, let me hand things over to our favorite bass player.

Six unspectacular quirks? What the fuck?

First off, nothing, and I mean nothing about Trevor Wolff is unspectacular. Got that? Total package. It's all spectacular. Come closer and see for yourself if you have to.

Probably the only thing in my life that could maybe sort of be unspectacular is Rusty. She's Mitchell's wife, but I'm stuck with her. I did my best to make sure that didn't happen. Trevor Wolff doesn't fail often, but when I do, fireworks go off. But don't tell Rusty I said that 'cause she'll start telling me all about the fireworks she sees when she and Mitchell go at it and that'll just make me puke. I fucking hate puking.

Look close. I told you six things in there. Don't hurt yourself, though. It'd suck if you were too hurt to come close and see how spectacular I am.

Calling All Roadie Poet Fans!

2008-09-15T13:03:00.000-04:00

Check out THIS poem.

Doesn't it remind you of our favorite Poet?

More from me in bit... be sure you've seen Twist, okay?

100 Words: Twist (Pre-Trevor's Song Era)

2008-09-12T11:03:00.001-04:00

There had to be something fucked up about it. Normal people didn't come off stage and crave ice cream, but then again, Trevor Wolff wasn't normal people.

Not mere ice cream. Soft serve. Or softish old-fashioned, the kind that demands constant attention and a tongue pushing it down to the bottom of the cone and wiping up what spills over the sides and down over your hands…

Mitchell liked to drag a willing girl into the shower But Trevor, he liked to wait. To make that trip and choose which you felt like: vanilla or chocolate. Or some of each.

Methinks there's more than one twist going on here, but I'm not entirely certain. You decide.

If you're new to Trevor and Mitchell, well, what took you so long to get here? Come hang out with everyone's favorite fictional band! Click on the boys' names to be taken to a character sketch page that'll tell you all you need to know and even give you extra links to see them in action.

This short piece was written for Velvet Verbosity's 100 word challenge. Come join in; it's a great writing exercise.

Susan Speaks: Being nominated is all the fun

2008-09-08T12:18:00.000-04:00

Back in May, I did something that made me immediately loathed by some of the big-name book blogs and some authors out there: I gathered up a team and launched a blog devoted to listing contests involving books.

It doesn't sound like the sort of thing that would invoke derision from the very people I'm seeking to talk about. I mean, isn't it a good thing when people talk about you?

But, apparently, there are people out there who are basically contest groupies. They enter everything. And there are the people who win the books and then turn around and sell them on eBay.

During the three years I spent working on a fan convention for my favorite real band (and you regulars know who that band is), I heard more than once about this same type of person. It seems they're not unique to the book world. So while I marvel that people would act this way with a book, it's not my first exposure to this sort of person. No matter where we go and what we do, there will always be the shady few among us.

I almost gave up Win a Book after the first week, demoralized when I was told that an author holds contests to give away books to her devoted following, not to gain new fans. My dear friend Breeni talked me into keeping with it, and our following grew by leaps and bounds -- but not among the authors so much as among the men and women who devote their blogs to talking about the books they've read. And yes, the books they are giving away. In fact, if you mention their contest on your blog, they'll give you an extra entry.

This community of book bloggers is strong but, perhaps, often overlooked. To help combat that, My Friend Amy declared September 15 through 19 to be Book Blogger Appreciation Week. And in conjunction with this week, she asked for nominations in a number of categories. When all was said and done with that step, she realized that popular demand had created a new category: Most Altruistic Blog. And Win a Book was one of the nominees.

I'm always pleased to be thought of by others. But to be included in this particular category? It fits, and it fits nicely, I think. Whenever I drop by someone's blog to tell them I've posted their contest at Win a Book, I usually tell them there's no need to enter me. I'm doing this to help spread the word about the book, the author, the blogger... I'm not doing this to win books. (The exception to this "no need to enter me" rule is if a book is on my wishlist)

Since that rocky first week, I've found other authors who are willing to have us post about their giveaways. I also post links to guest blog posts by authors whose names frequently pop up, as well as links to interviews. I like to post about sales and deals. I love to hear that I've turned people on to books.

Look. I'm a writer. I know all too well how hard this game of publishing is. There are things going on in the publishing industry that I loathe. Win a Book is just one way that I'm trying to make a difference and make things better for all of us writers.

Yep. Altruistic.

Maybe that's why I don't care if Win a Book wins in its category. I'd be thrilled if it does, but for now, it's enough to know that I am making a difference. Hopefully that's only the beginning.

Now, it's your turn to make a difference. Go on over to My Friend Amy's and vote, will you, please? Even if you don't vote for Win a Book. But there are a lot of great blogs nominated in a lot of great categories. Raise your voices and make a difference.

Use this link.

Fiction Outtake: The Time After Dinner (The Early Days)

2008-09-07T07:57:00.001-04:00

It's not necessary, but it may help if you visit The Time Before Dinner. This is a sequel of sorts. You should be able to catch on to the basic idea if you're too lazy to go look, though.

When Mitchell got up after dinner and left the house, Trevor knew exactly where he was going -- and why. He figured he'd give the idiot a while to get his head together, but Amy started bugging him, grabbing at his forearm and being so fucking whiny that Trevor left the house to track down Mitchell sooner than he wanted to.

Sure enough, Mitchell was in their spot by the river, chewing on a piece of grass and staring at nothing. He was all stretched out, his legs crossed at the ankle, the hand that wasn't playing with the grass in his mouth tucked up behind his head.

He looked like Huck Finn. He even had his shoes off.

Trevor sat down beside him and stared at the river. It was barely moving today. Even the air was still. "Yeah?" Trevor asked. "So?"

"So what?"

With a curl in his upper lip, Trevor mimicked Mitchell. Like the idiot didn't know what this was all about. "I go to all that trouble to find you a girl who's willing to take on your virginal ass and that's all you can say to me?"

"Uhh… thanks?"

Trevor grabbed the grass and yanked it out of Mitchell's mouth.

Mitchell yelped and sat up, fingers hovering over his lip. "Fuckhead!"

"That didn't hurt, you baby." He made a show of looking Mitchell up and down. "It's a fucking miracle I was able to find someone for you, and this shit is exactly why."

Mitchell turned away and didn't say anything.

Trevor let him stew. He lit up a cigarette and waited.

"So," he said when Mitchell relaxed a hair, "did you last longer than thirty seconds?"

"Fucker."

Trevor crowed, the cigarette dangling off his lower lip as he laughed. "You didn't, did you! I fucking knew it!"

"I lasted," Mitchell growled.

"One day. Two miracles. Think Hell's about to freeze over?"

Mitchell took a swipe at the back of Trevor's head. Trevor just grinned.

"How'd you do it?" he asked when Mitchell stopped growling. "Multiplication tables?"

"Chords. I talked myself through two different Rat Catcher songs."

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

"You're there with a girl for the first fucking time ever and all you can do is play your fucking guitar?"

"It worked, didn't it? Two Rat Catcher songs… that's, like, ten minutes!"

"You stupid fuck. You've got a girl. Don't you know what that means?"

"I do now, yeah."

Trevor wanted to smear Mitchell's grin into the riverbank. "No! No, no, no!" He jumped up and pulled his cigarette off his lip. It felt like it tore and for a second, he could see a piece of grass hanging out of Mitchell's mouth. But only for a second; he had more important things to set the stupid ass straight about.

Mitchell was looking at him, his elbows hooked around his knees.

He took that as permission to rant. "Girls are soft. They smell good. They're curvy and fun to touch. They squirm. And, oh fuck, the sounds they make. You didn't notice any of that, did you?"

"Yeah. Of course!"

"Then what the fuck did you need to play your stupid-assed guitar for?"

"'Cause if I hadn't, you'd be sitting here yelling at me for being too fast and not stopping to appreciate her the right way. Why'd you come out here, anyway? Nothing I do is ever right yet you never shut up about what a perfect person I am. It can't be both ways, know that?"

Mitchell was on his feet now. His eyes had turned that dark blue that Trevor knew meant danger, and his face was red.

Trevor took a step back. Maybe Mitchell had been smart enough to figure this girl stuff out on his own. But on the other hand, maybe he hadn't been.

"And you should just stay outta my sex life anyway!" Mitchell yelled.

"If I did that, you wouldn't have one!"

He knew the fist to his gut was coming. It felt good when it landed, taking some of his breath away and doubling him over not quite in half. Instinct made him want to cover his head, but this was Mitchell, and it ended there. He wasn't Hank; he knew when to stop.

Too bad I don't, Trevor thought as his breath came back and he straightened up. "You should be thanking me."

"For the girl? Yeah, sure, whatever. For showing up here and putting on your high-and-mighty act? No fucking way. Take it with you and leave me the fuck alone already." Mitchell sat down, his back to Trevor. He was probably staring off at the river, but his back was shaking.

Trevor went and sat beside him. "Okay, I'm done being a dick now."

"Good."

"Was it?" He nudged Mitchell with his elbow and watched as the guy fought with himself. It was more fun to stay pissed, Trevor knew that. Smart people got out of the way when Mitchell was pissed.

Trevor wasn't smart. He was also Mitchell's best friend. He knew if he waited, he'd get it.

"Yeah, it was good," the big idiot finally said. He let out a deep breath and nodded. "It was good."

Public Service Announcement:

2008-09-06T07:31:00.000-04:00

If you've been trying to reach me via mail, or to visit the website, you may have noticed... things are wonky.

The Tour Manager's been working on our server and while he's managed to do a bypass so I can get to the Web, I can't get to my mail.

If things bounce, wait until tomorrow (Sunday) and then resend.

In the meantime, I'm working on a doozy of an outtake for you guys... stay tuned...

Booking Through Thursday: Peer Pressure

2008-09-04T09:51:00.000-04:00

Kudos to my friend JM for asking this week's Booking Through Thursday question:

I was looking through books yesterday at the shops and saw all the Twilight books, which I know basically nothing about. What I do know is that I’m beginning to feel like I’m the *only* person who knows nothing about them.

Despite being almost broke and trying to save money, I almost bought the expensive book (Australian book prices are often completely nutty) just because I felt the need to be ‘up’ on what everyone else was reading.

Have you ever felt pressured to read something because ‘everyone else’ was reading it? Have you ever given in and read the book(s) in question or do you resist? If you are a reviewer, etc, do you feel it’s your duty to keep up on current trends?

Of course I've felt pressure to read something because everyone else is. Not just the best-sellers, either. Laurell K. Hamilton comes immediately to mind; I had to find out what was going on with this Anita Blake chick.

MaryJanice Davidson (who is an absolute doll) is another. Charlaine Harris. Carrie Vaughn.

The LKH is the only one that disappointed, and then not until the third or fourth Anita book that I read (out of order, but that wasn't my issue with the series).

(yeah, I noticed, too, that they are all paranormals. Shows you what my online peer group is into, huh?)

There have been few best-sellers that haven't disappointed in one way or another. The Kite Runner bothered me with its brutality (and now my book club talked me into reading A Thousand Splendid Suns, which I absolutely do not want to read because I hear it's even more brutal). Even The Secret Life of Bees let me down; I'd read that plot before. I'm expecting more of the same from The Time-Traveller's Wife (which is near the top of Mt. TBR) and the good old DaVinci Code, which is still buried in the mountain.

Now, as for that last question... as a reviewer, do I feel compelled to follow the trends?

Absolutely not. In fact, I feel compelled to buck the trends and find gems that may have been overlooked. You can read all of my reviews over at Front Street Reviews, including my most recent one, for a book called Black Wolf on Tour.

After all, if everyone is talking about the same ten or twenty books, how is anyone going to hear about the thousands (literally) that are being overshadowed?

As a writer and a reader, it's my quest to bring attention to those oft-overlooked books.

Susan's Featured New Release: Jinx

2008-09-02T11:10:00.000-04:00

I had so much fun talking music with Christine D'Abo (here's the link if you missed it) that I'd like to make this a regular feature.

Just as it felt natural to feature Christine, it feels natural to feature my next author: the way cool Jennifer Estep. I met her when I won a copy of Karma Girl somewhere online. I immediately offered to review it at Front Street Reviews -- the first of three reviews I've since written about her books.

Let's face it. I'm an Estep Junkie. The woman could probably write greeting cards and I'd buy them.

Like I said, featuring her today, on the day that her third book in the Bigtime series, Jinx, is released, feels natural.

So I dropped her a note: What song (new or old) best describes how you view Jinx?

Here's what she said:

The song that makes me think about Jinx is "Under The Gun" by The Killers. The first lines of the song make me think of my main character, Bella Bulluci, since she:

A) Wears a small charm shaped like a pair of wings
B) Dresses up like an angel (with a halo) for a costume party in the book
C) Her house is full of angel- and halo-themed stuff
D) She's "under the gun" in a number of ways, fighting her feelings for the hero and trying to steer clear of ubervillains and all the other craziness that takes place in Bigtime.

The song starts out like this: She's got her halo and wings, hidden under his eye. But she's an angel for sure, she just can't stop telling lies ...

It's just a fast-paced song that I enjoy. I love The Killers, and this song is on "Sawdust," which I think is their best album so far.

Here's a link to a vid that includes the lyrics. Check it out. Read along. Think about Bella and the angel motif.

But mostly, make sure you buy the book. Let this song play in the background as you read it.

And while you're shopping, pick up the other two Bigtime books, too. They're light, they're fun, and they're worth your time.

Sunday Best: Cool Sh*t

2008-08-31T07:51:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know. I put the asterik in there... makes me sick, too, but every now and then, you gotta conform.

Anyway, I've been meaning to bring these two things to your attention for too long now. Long enough that I'm tired of The Tour Manager closing my Firefox window and the open tabs along with it. And it's Sunday. Seems like a good time to bring you a Sunday Best.

First off, we have a very cute set of cookie cutter and six cookie recipes from the folks at Punk Rock Kitchen. While this is sort of pink and definitely missing the biting social commentary that characterizes punk rock, it's still a lot of fun. I'd definitely give this as a birthday present to the younger set.

And next, this is something I'd totally like to track down and get for myself. It's a new graphic novel (and you guys know how I love my graphic novels *coughJoannSfarcough*) about an all-girl rock band, the Apocalipstix. The book was actually released in July, so it only took a month to cross my radar. Not bad, but really. They could have sent me a review copy and I'd be telling you all to go on over to Front Street Reviews and read what I thought of it.

So there ya go. Some cool shit for a US Labor Day weekend. Make it a good one; it's the unofficial end of summer. I'm going to miss summer around here. Sort of.

DMH Fiction: Somewhere

2008-08-28T21:03:00.000-04:00

"Where are we?" Scott asked, looking over Fozzy's shoulder. He pushed up his glasses even though they didn't need it.

Fozzy shrugged. "Somewhere."

"Is that somewhere near where we're supposed to be?"

Fozzy shrugged. "It's somewhere in the mountains. Are we supposed to be in the mountains?"

Lido handed Scott the map. "Are there mountains in Texas?"

"No," Scott said, wanting to grab handfuls of hair and tug until his scalp hurt. He wanted The Hatchet to come out of its blankets and chop down the mountains and get them to Texas. "We have a problem. We need to be in Texas in an hour."

"This isn't Texas," Fozzy said.

"No shit, Sherlock," Lido said. "I told you to take that right."

"We have an hour before we have to load in, and we're staring at the frickin mountains!" Scott leaned back in the seat and kicked, hoping he caught Fozzy in the butt. Idiot. How many times had he said, "Go East. Due East. We're in Arizona, so there's no way we can miss Texas"? How frickin dumb was the guy, and who the hell had stuffed him in the back seat where he wouldn't be able to see well so he could catch this mistake earlier?

"So what do we do?" Lido asked. Scott could see the panic creeping into the guy's eyes, hear it in his voice.

"Like I know?" Scott shot back. "If you'd followed the stupid map…" He grabbed it out of Lido's hand and looked at it.

No wonder. Lido had been holding it upside-down.

"I guess," Scott said, taking the deepest breath he could manage in the mountains' thin air, "we turn around and go home. And hope like hell someone'll hire us again once word about this gets out. You know it will."

"There's no way?" Fozzy asked.

"Dude, we don't even frickin know where we are!"

"Gimme that map," Fozzy said. Once it was in his hand, he carried it back to the trailer Lido's dad had loaned them for the quick trip to Texas. The Hatchet was in there, sleeping.

Scott seethed while Fozzy waited for The Hatchet to do its thing. Lido hung
his head, lit a cigarette, and tried to look cool.

Gecko just sat and stared at his hands, folded in his lap.

Scott wished he could be more like Gecko. Nothing bothered Gecko.

Including the confetti Fozzy brought back up to the front.

"Good work," Scott said. "Now how do we get home?"

For every ShapeShifter in the world, there's more than one Deadly Metal Hatchet. Hapless but well-intentioned. Talentless but with a great marketing gimmick. And hoping to make it big.

Explore more Deadly Metal Hatchet here. And be sure to leave a comment so I can return your visit, eh?

If you need a Trevor fix, there's one I posted right below this one... Come on... you know you do!

Fiction Outtake: Bored on the Bus (Trevor's Song Era)

2008-08-27T21:26:00.000-04:00

They'd been on the bus for what felt like weeks. So long that they were way overdue for a day off inside of an actual hotel room -- and every single member of ShapeShifter was grossed out by the thought of how excited they were about something as sterile and isolated as a hotel room. But at this point, with only the bus or the inside of the venue to look at, a hotel seemed like the ultimate luxury.

During these stretches, it wasn't unusual for no one to talk. No one had anything to say, really. Not when you were spending exactly every waking minute with each other. Not when you'd done this dance for years.

Mitchell didn't even have much to say to Kerri, which was pretty pathetic considering they were still newlyweds. She didn't seem to care, except that she was as bored as the rest of them. So bored that she had squished herself on the couch beside him, her chin on his upraised knee. Instead of drawing, she was playing idly with the hair on his leg. He knew she wouldn't be doing it if he'd put his jeans back on, but when all you were doing was sitting on a bus, why bother with pants?

He could only take so much of Kerri's petting and stroking. It wasn't hot, it wasn't comforting. It was just damn annoying.

He lifted his leg and straightened it, moving gently so he didn't startle her onto the floor or hurt her. "Woman," he growled, "my leg is not a guitar. If you want to strum something, go find one."

With a shrug, Kerri stood up.

"What are you doing?" He knew he flailed as he sat up, but he didn't care. She'd been supposed to stop petting him, not do … whatever.

"Getting a guitar," she said carelessly, and disappeared into the bunks.

Eric and Daniel chuckled as Mitchell groaned, but Trevor nodded. "That'll teach your dumb ass," the bass player said and lit a cigarette. "You know she can't resist a challenge. Even an easy one like that."

"At least it'll give us something to do," Daniel said as Kerri came back carrying Mabel.

She sat down at the other end of Trevor's couch, facing Mitchell, and put the guitar properly on her right leg. Then she shook out her hair and straightened her back, looking to the table at Eric. Mitchell noticed how pointedly she ignored him. He tried to keep his latest groan inaudible; it would only egg her on.

"So. What do I do now?" she asked Eric, a too-bright smile plastered to her face.

Mitchell wanted to cover his own face with his hands. Anything to keep from watching this. But he couldn't look away.

"You need a pick," Eric said.

Kerri handed the guitar to Trevor, who took it with a sneer. She stood up, watching Mitchell as if she expected him to do something.

"What?" he asked as she stared down at him. Fuck, but he hated it when she smiled like that. All smug and full of herself -- and about to make him the butt of some joke, he was sure. Anyone with a shred of common sense would get up and leave before it happened, but he was stuck there, both by his own inertia and some sick need to be present.

Kerri bent down so she could reach across him, making sure she brushed her breast against his face. She dug in the change pocket of his jeans.

He refused to so much as breathe until she came up with one of the eight million or so picks they'd had made for this tour. He told himself not to panic; he still had two others in there. And maybe she'd give it back. Or, even better, make him come looking for it.

She smirked at him as she reseated herself and took Mabel back from Trevor.

"Okay," she said to Eric, "now what?"

Trevor leaned forward as Eric motioned Mitchell out of the way so he could sit across from Kerri and give her instructions. She made a show of not knowing how to hold the pick or how to use it.

Her performance set Mitchell's teeth on edge. And that was before she struck a note.

"What about my face?" she asked when Eric told her she was ready to move on to the next step.

"What about it?" Eric asked.

"Not even Asshole there can play guitar with his face," Trevor said, jerking his chin at Mitchell, who growled. Kerri didn't need to know about the time he'd tried. Hell, Mitchell wasn't srue Trevor knew about it.

Kerri took a deep, exaggerated breath. "I know that," she said. "But to watch the three of you, in order to play guitar, you also have to make faces. Like this," she said, puckering up like she'd eaten a lemon. "Or this," she said, opening her mouth and widening her eyes.

Daniel laughed.

"Oh, you're not much better, you know," Kerri said, pointing the pick at him. She stuck her tongue into her cheek and, again, let her jaw drop open.

Mitchell bit back a smile, but Eric didn't bother hiding it. Her faces were poor imitations of theirs, but they got the point across. Daniel pretended he didn't care, and Trevor was pretending he wasn't paying attention, even though his eyes flicked back and forth. He was, like always, too full of himself to give in and have a good time, especially because it was Kerri at the root of it all. Trevor couldn't stand it when she pulled shit like this -- because he wanted to be the one at the center of it.

"You know what's going to happen now?" Daniel asked, picking up Eric's cigarettes and fiddling with the pack. "We're going to get on stage tonight and obsess about our faces."

That was entirely too true.

Mitchell told himself he shouldn't care. Guitar players were supposed to make faces; the girls in the crowd ate it up. The guys thought it was the path to coolness -- and a lot of them practiced their faces more than they did their guitars even though the more you played, the more natural the faces turned. It was all part of rock and roll.

Besides, he told himself as Kerri tried to stand up, only to discover the hard way that guitars had straps for a specific reason, if this got inside his head too bad, he'd divorce the wench.

But in the meantime, at least he wasn't bored.

Has it been too long since we've had an outtake just for the fun or it, or WHAT?

If you're new around here, the best way to figure out what's up is to head over to my main website and poke around. Or click on each character's name above; that'll take you to their character sketch page on the website. You can read about everyone, or click on some of the links at the bottom of the page and be taken back here to the blog for more of the gang in action.

Susan's Inside Writing: How I Met My...

2008-08-24T20:30:00.000-04:00

The Sunday Scribblings Prompt this week is How I Met My.... I immediately thought of one of the most important instances in my fictional world: when Mitchell and Kerri met.

BUT, I've got a life. And that life demanded that I join the Cub Scouts and the rest of my family (still-infected finger and all) for a weekend up in Cook Forest State Park. Camping. Which means the only writing I did was in my head. I did a lot of writing last night; every time I closed my eyes, I was back on that damn canoe.

Mitchell and Kerri will have to wait until later in the week. For now, it's all about the old stuff.

I have posted two great stories in this vein here on the blog. Both have their great qualities and it's hard to choose one to talk about first.

Check out Chelle LaFleur's post that started out to be about a local musician named Jock LaFeet and became, instead, about Chelle's introduction to four guys driving around the country in Dad's Ford Bronco. Four guys who call themselves ShapeShifter.

Read it here -- and laugh with me about how Chelle's voice has evolved into something I now adore. Hope you do, too.

Whoops. A third introduction crept into my awareness. (Read on for the second; I'm out of order for the moment.) The first time ShapeShifter runs into Deadly Metal Hatchet. I miss DMH. Do you? If you're not sure, here it is: Deadly Metal Hatchet Intro.

Last -- but most definitely not least -- is THE big one. The one that this entire blog (and my current body of fiction) revolves around.

The day Trevor and Mitchell first meet. Read it here, if you haven't seen it yet. Or in a cleaned up form, as a downloadable .pdf, go here.

"How I met..." stories are important in writing fiction. Without them, your characters have no history. That makes it harder to create the all-important backstory that makes them come alive.

Now, if someone can explain why the river came alive behind my closed eyes last night, I'd appreciate it. That's one "How I met" experience that I could live without. It better think twice if it thinks it's welcome to return tonight...

Susan's Book Talk: My Friend Christine D'Abo

2008-08-22T09:07:00.001-04:00

Many of you who hang out here know that I've made friends with a group of writers I call the Eroti-chicks. They are a great group of women who write romances, often erotic in nature, for many of the e-publishers. I'm acquaintances with a few who've made the leap to print (like Lauren Dane, whose copy of Making Chase that I won in a contest a while back finally arrived. Yippee!) and to big publishing houses.

Now, let's focus in one of my eroti-chick friends, shall we? Today's focus is on the lovely Christine D'Abo, whose friendship toward me has touched me both personally and as a writer.

Christine's got a new book out today, folks. It's called Primal Elements, and I know you want to read it.

Here's the blurb:

The last thing Jenna Robins wants for her thirtieth birthday is a trip to
the Perfect Match dating service, but she is given little choice from her
group of friends. What she doesn’t expect is to be “matched” with Ben
Hawthorn, her arrogant and handsome, ex-boss. Her opinion of Ben hasn’t
softened much since he sabotaged her research project by pulling the funding
at the last minute seven years ago.

But after a night of passion and the discovery of an alien artifact, Ben and
Jenna are forced to come to terms with their past relationship as the device
draws them closer together physically and emotionally. They must rely on
each other if they are to survive an attack from an old foe, and the force
of their own attraction.

Sounds good, huh?

Well, I thought so, too. So much so that I was inspired to ask Christine what song most makes her think of her book. I mean, heck. I write about music and rock stars, right? Let's talk about books in the guise of music.

Here's what she said:

I think the song that fits their relationship the best is Someday by
Nickelback. Their relationship seven years fell apart, things were said
and done that pulled them apart. Now they've been put together again and
want to make it work.

So. There ya go.

Christine's new book, and the song that goes with it.

You know you want it.

Susan's Book Talk: The Kommandant's Girl

2008-08-20T17:11:00.000-04:00

For every clunker I find for my book club, I manage to find some absolute keepers, too. This month, we read The Kommandant's Girl, Pam Jenoff's debut novel. Here's a blurb, taken from the author's website:

Nineteen year-old Emma Bau has only been married for three weeks when the Nazis invade her native Poland. After her husband, Jacob, is forced to disappear underground as part of the resistance movement, Emma soon finds herself imprisoned in the ghetto with her parents. There she meets one of the resistance leaders and with his help, she is able to escape the ghetto and live under an assumed, non-Jewish identity.

Emma’s already precarious situation is complicated by her introduction to Kommandant Georg Richwalder, a high-ranking Nazi official who insists that Emma come to work for him as his assistant. In this position, Emma has the opportunity to provide information to the resistance movement and potentially help her still-imprisoned parents. To do so, however, she must become perilously close to the Kommandant, a troubled man with a dark secret whose romantic intentions are clear. Emma makes the difficult decision to become involved with the Kommandant and, as their relationship intensifies, she is forced to acknowledge her own undeniable feelings for him. Desperately, Emma wrestles with questions of loyalty and duty until at last she is able to locate information sought by the resistance movement regarding the Nazi liquidation of the ghetto. Spurred by this information, the resistance undertakes the fateful bombing of a Nazi café, unleashing a chain of events that will change Emma’s life, and the lives of those she loves, forever.

Based in part on actual events, The Kommandant's Girl is a compelling tale of love and courage in a dangerous and desperate time. Unique in voice and evocative in historical detail, the novel’s widespread appeal stems not only from its eternally popular subjects of World War II and the Holocaust, but also from its timeless themes of hope, struggle and defiance in the face of overwhelming odds.

Okay, how do I even begin to tell you guys about this book? Here are some thought fragments:

Utterly impossible to put down
Compelling
The sort of book you get lost in
Impossible to keep from identifying with Emma/Anna

See a trend here? I'm writing this before tonight's meeting, but the members of the book club I've spoken with thus far have all spoken highly of this book. They've all agreed it's the good kind of fast read: the kind that sucks you in and you just want to read and read and read until it's over. And then, dammit, you want more.

Best of all, part of the central conflict of this book is one that leads to such great discussions: if you were Emma (or Jacob), what would you do? How would you view Emma's actions?

The ending is open. We don't get to find out what happens to Emma, although the story of Lukasz, the rabbi's son who the resistance passes off as Anna's cousin, would make for a compelling story in its own right. Again, this will also make great discussion at the meeting tonight.

I've mentioned before that my book club tends to veer away from the Holocaust; when you get a group of Jewish women together, you're bound to have someone whose ties cut a little too close to this period in history. But like A Thread of Grace, this is one book I'm glad we chose to read.

There is a follow-up that was just released in April. Called The Diplomat's Wife, it's the story of Marta, a secondary character in this book. I've already got it on my wishlist, even though from the summaries I've read, many of the themes parallel this book's. We shall see...

In the meantime, don't miss this one. I'm actually giving it to my vet tech next week, or I'd do a giveaway with it. Truly, I loved this book.

Susan's Fashion File: Business Attire

2008-08-18T21:38:00.000-04:00

I'm going to pick on my fellow writer friend, Amy Ruttan, here. But only for a moment. And only because of the numerous people who've asked me why I don't join RWA, she's the only regular reader I know of. (Feel free to correct me on this subject)

Now, let me start off by saying that while I feel that only recognizing certain publishers is counter-productive to everyone -- and let's not open that argument here; that's not what this post is about -- that's not my reason for not joining RWA. To be honest, I think there are a lot of reasons why this organization would be good for me.

But the local meetings are SO far away that I can get to another state or two faster than I can get there. And the local meetings -- at least the last time I checked, over a year and a half ago -- were all day on a Saturday. I don't want to miss out on that much family time. Not to mention how angry my cats will get with me for being gone that long.

Yeah, that's a pretty good reason to keep my distance. After all, isn't part of the reason we join these things to be able to talk in person to other writers?

Well, there's Nationals, everyone argues. What a great time Nationals is. I have to go. I'm missing out.

Yeah, okay, sure. After the great experience I had at Romantic Times last April, I can totally believe that.

Except for one thing.

You see, to me, this is what one wears when one gets dressed up and wants to put a good face on for the world to see. Pull on my washable suede pants, add a pair of Doc Martens, or maybe my $2 slip-on tennies with the skull-and-crossbones insignia all over them and ... you get the idea.

Needless to say, I'd get thrown out on my skulls. Nevermind that every single person on the planet says to wear what you're comfortable in, especially if you're going to make pitches. Nevermind that I write about rock and roll for a reason (that reason being this is who I am).

Nope, boys and girls. It's all about the dress code. I don't pass muster, and I have no real desire to play dress up and pretend to be someone I'm not.

Take me or leave me. But do it as I am.

(btw, for you Eagle-eyed groupies and casual link-clickers, yes, that IS the very smoking Rob Zombie in that hoodie I so covet. And for the record, I'm not buying it. If it were a pullover it'd be mine. Hear that, Rob???? Wanna pass that along to your wife, please, since it's her clothing line we're discussing here?)

(and is it any coincidence that now that I'm trying out EntreCard, Blogger thinks I'm a spam blog? Didn't think so.)

Susan's Music Talk: Mandatorily Here

2008-08-17T13:23:00.000-04:00

I won't bore you with the chain of events, but suffice it to say I'm taking an antibiotic that's just making me want to make like Mitchell, in this outtake. (He's so much fun to pick on!)

So I spent yesterday on the couch with the Olympics on and the laptop sucking me in. That means that today's the first day I've been able to fire up my XM Online and listen to the temporary Metallica channel.

I was right when I said sitting here would be easy and getting up to go to the bathroom would be hard. I'm also a bit concerned that there's soon going to be food caked everywhere on my desk and carpet... you get the idea.

If you're not as addicted as I am, you might want to check this out. I got an e-mail from Sneak Attack Media, telling me about this cool indie flick they're showing online. It's called Dig! and I can hardly wait to sit and watch it, myself.

Once October comes, and my all-Metallica XM channel is no more.

Of course.

100 Words: Corn

2008-08-15T13:59:00.003-04:00

Amy wanted corn. It was her turn to make dinner. Mitchell had volunteered to buy corn. "It's summertime," he'd said, then promised he would throw it on the grill. Mitchell liked grilled corn and Amy hated cooking. It worked all around.

Problem was, it was still early in the summer. The corn wasn't ripe. And Amy wasn't telling what else she was making, which made it hard to guess what else to buy.

There were packages of corn in the freezer, already shucked. That seemed wrong; everyone knew corn was better fresh.

But Amy wanted corn. She'd better appreciate this.

I wish I had a relationship with my sisters like Mitchell has with Amy. For more of their antics, see The Time Before Dinner, Naked, and Baking Cookies.

Notice how much I wind up writing about food? I wonder what a psychiatrist would say about me and this tendency of mine... No, on second thought, I don't.

More food: Soy Sauce 1, Soy Sauce 2, and Val's Cake.

If you want to know more about Mitchell and Amy, click on their names and you can take the magic ride back to their bio pages. At the bottom of those pages are more links for you, if these weren't enough.

Susan's Music Talk: Chair Magnetic

2008-08-11T19:59:00.003-04:00

I should have put the pieces together when my XM Radio was flooded with Metallica as we drove from here to points around Virginia, and back home again. I mean, I know how the Big Publicity Machine cranks up right before a band has a new CD to release. It's fun to watch, particularly if you like the band.

And you guys know I like my Metallica. Okay, the last album, St. Anger. Let's talk about that in one sentence: DOESN'T LIVE UP TO POTENTIAL. (sheesh, do I have report cards from when I was a kid that says the same thing. Am I in good company, or what?)

I'm hopeful that the new album won't have this problem. I'd have to threaten to get on the case of the guy who I often think of as the inspiration for Roadie Poet, but he has nothing to do with the music Metallica makes. That would be a waste of my time. Not to mention his; I like him too much to do that to him.

Besides, I'm going to be rather busy come this Saturday, 16 August. I got word today that XM Radio is launching a Mandatory Metallica channel (51 for those of you whose eyes just lit up like mine did). It'll run the whole way until 30 September, by which point I expect I might be all Metallica-ed out. Maybe. I mean, heck, why not? It's not like they're coming to my (lame) city before the end of January.

Writers often talk about "bum glue" (which is a phrase I hate because I hate the word bum when we're talking about the good old tuchas. I mean, really. Why use bum when there's this great Yiddish word to use instead??). Tuchas glue... that's what we often need to make ourselves sit down and write.

Anyone want to place bets on how much I'll get done with 45 days of Metallica, a definite stimulant to my muse, blaring away in here?

Scary thought, I know. Especially because the real question is how many bathroom breaks I'll deny myself 'cause I just can't tear myself away from the one millionth listening of Master of Puppets...

Roadie Poet: Ask

2008-08-09T12:57:00.001-04:00

There's a code out here
On the road.

You do your job.
You hang out.
Laugh.
Joke.
Keep it light as long as you can.

You got here 'cause you're good.
You know your shit.
No need to ask for instructions.

Like a robot, you do what you gotta do.
Don't think about how mechanical it gets by tour's end.
Just do.
Think about what you're doing.
Pay attention;
One fuck-up can hurt the stars.

They're worth millions.
You don't hurt them.
No matter how much you want to
'cause they treat you like you're
Subhuman.

And whatever you do,
You never
Ever
Stop and ask them

Anything.

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is ask. Once again, I had too many ideas to choose from, so don't be surprised if more fiction based around this theme surfaces in the future.

If you're visiting from Scribblings, please leave a comment so I make sure to visit you in return. Thanks for coming by!

If you're new to the Roadie Poet, click on the link in his name right there, and it'll take you to a biography page, and links to his earlier poems.

Susan's Author Spotlight: Carole Nelson Douglas

2008-08-09T07:40:00.002-04:00

Congratulations to Claudia, who won a great package of excerpts! Stay tuned for more full-length reads.

In my never-ending quest to tell you about the books I've read that I simply adore, I'm back with one I knew I'd love even before I picked it up. And it's got a great story behind it, too, as all great books should.

It started at the 2008 Romantic Times Convention in April. I was picking up all the free excerpts I could find (note to authors: free excerpts = new readers!) and reading them before I'd shut off the NHL playoffs in the background and the light beside my bed. I went through a bunch that were okay, a bunch that were good, and a few that were downright horrible.

And then I picked up this little book from Juno Press, featuring Carole Nelson Douglas on one side and Maria Lima on the other. As fate would have it, I started reading the Carole Nelson Douglas book first.

I finished it up the next morning before heading back to the Hilton from Hell to see if I could help the Mystery Chicks set up the breakfast they were sponsoring. I figured they were the same women I'd hung out with the night before -- cool women like Hank Phillippi Ryan, and funny women like Lori Avocato -- wait. I met her at breakfast. Didn't I? And the woman I look to as a steadying presence, Nancy Martin.

Anyway, there was Carole Nelson Douglas in among this group of women. I went as fangirl as Susan can get and gushed about how I'd just read the excerpt and was hooked.

Let me tell you, Carole Nelson Douglas is an amazing woman. She's clever, she's funny, she's smart, and she's figured out how to survive in this business. Not to mention she's got this amazing old-world style that I envy. When my good friend Ann mentioned her Midnight Louie mystery series, I recognized the name immediately. I'd be surprised if you don't.

Luck was totally on my side in this scenario, because as a thanks for helping out, Ann and I were allowed to raid the freebie table. So we did. And there among the freebies was the first in Carole Nelson Douglas' new series, Dancing with Werewolves. (Uhh, that's the name of the book, not the series, which seems to have the boring name of Delilah Street, Paranormal Investigator. Accurate, but not as stylish as I know Carole can get.)

Reading it was quite the treat. After reading the synopsis in the excerpt of Brimstone Kiss, I felt like I knew what was going on. But it still felt fresh and new and had me totally engaged -- so much so that more than once, I woke up early to keep reading.

In a nutshell, Delilah Street sees herself on TV. That's not unusual since Delilah is a TV reporter, but ... this Delilah. She's dead. Maggoty. Nasty and haunting.

A chain of events sets Delilah -- now no longer Delilah Street, TV reporter, but Delilah Street, paranormal investigator -- on the path of this dead doppelganger. Enter a man named Ric, another man named Nightwine (who eats living things), a weirdo named Cocaine, or Snow, or... and enough magic to set David Copperfield on edge.

Yet it works. The magic, the vamps, the werewolves, the Cine-Sims... Douglas manages to weave the familiar with the fresh in such a way that the world makes perfect sense and yet is totally foreign, without the reader feeling lost. In fact, I sort of wish Cine-Sims were real...

I want to share this goodness with you, but there's no way I'm parting with my copy, which Carole so kindly autographed for me. Even if she hadn't, there's still no way.

So... I'll part with my copy of the excerpt, and throw in a second from Juno Books, as well. That means you'll get two volumes with three excerpts in them:

Brimstone Kiss, by Carole Nelson Douglas
Blood Bargain, by Maria Lima
Seaborn, by Chris Howard

The other two are good, but this new Delilah Street series? Tops it all. And then some. (but you may not agree, which is why I'm going to let you find out for yourself!)

And what the heck. I've got lots to give away over here, so I'll throw in other stuff, too. I've got a bunch more excerpts, and I STILL maintain that there isn't a better way to check out a new author than through excerpts. So I'll make you a cute little package; you know you want it!

To enter your name, leave a comment here. Be sure to leave me a way to reach you, or you can't win. I'll pick a winner on . This is open to anyone in the world, even if you've won here before. And all the other usual rules that reign when I run a contest.

I'm out of town (or am I just hiding?), so I'll pick a winner on Saturday, August 9. Like usual, the winner will be picked by my kids, so don't yell at me if you don't win. You guys know me: if there was a way to let you all win, I'd gladly do that.

Booking Through Thursday: Other Worlds

2008-08-07T11:06:00.002-04:00

Oh, how can I NOT answer this week's Booking Through Thursday? It's perfect for me!

Ready?

Are there any particular worlds in books where you’d like to live?

Or where you certainly would NOT want to live?

What about authors? If you were a character, who would you trust to write your life?

C'mon... you know the answer to this. I'd live in Riverview, USA, of course! I think I'd be Kerri, only I'm not as cool as she is, so maybe we'll have to create a character like her best friend or someone else who's equally inside the world of ShapeShifter -- and everyone else, like Boomer and Pam, who aren't exactly part of ShapeShifter's world, and Lyric, who is part, but in a different sort of way. (How's THAT for a run-on?)

Come to think of it, part of the privilege of being the creator is that I DO fit into the worlds of all these characters (and the others I haven't mentioned yet today, like Springer). They are diverse people who do things that don't always revolve around the band, and I can't imagine any one person being involved with all the characters I have created (many of whom I have yet to share with you guys. Oh, September can't come fast enough!).

Which means that if I were a character, I'd want me to write about myself. Which sort of hints at a memoir, but I generally hate to read those, so maybe we should approach this from the incestual viewpoint of metafiction. I'm not sure.

This last concept has made my brain hurt. I think I'm glad I'm real.

Not a regular? Check out the links; they will take you to bio pages of all these characters I've mentioned. At the bottom of those pages, if you're so inclined, you can click on links that'll take you back here to the blog, and you can read the fiction I've created for all these people. Have fun!

Susan Speaks: Award Season!

2008-08-06T05:27:00.000-04:00

Yep, it's that time of year again when you guys make me feel the warm fuzzies. You know, it's hard to write scenes with Trevor in them when I've got the warm fuzzies. Trevor, as most of you know, is diametrically opposed to the warm fuzzies. (Between you and me, I think Trevor's terrified of the warm fuzzies, but I don't think any of you groupies are surprised by that.)

There are a ton of awards that have been directed not just at this blog, but at my Win a Book blog, too. Let me recap for you:

Allessandra at her place has given Win a Book the Brillante Award. She thanks us for helping her win new reads.

My dear friend Bob-kat has given me the SuperCommentor award. I think all you guys know how hard I try to say something of meaning, so this felt very good, indeed. Read what she had to say here.

More of that Brillante Award. My dear, dear friend Bunnygirl sent this one my way, and coming from her, that's high praise. Once school starts for my kids, don't be surprised if you hear more adventures of Susan and Bunnygirl...

Win a Book was actually awarded two more awards, but as they rolled in when I was about to roll off to Cub Scout Camp, I sent them to Breeni and asked her to acknowledge them on behalf of the WaB team.

I'd pass these along because I've met even more cool people of late and am dying to acknowledge them, but I'm also about to pop back out of town for another week. (Or I'm already there. You decide.) Once the summer travels are over and life settles down into a pre-school and kids' birthday hubbub, I'll see what I can do to make sure you know of the coolness that's been entering my life.

Awards or no, know I'm grateful to all of you for hanging out with me. And Trevor. And the rest of the fictional folk who populate this place. I may be busy doing semi-interesting things right now, but it won't last. The fictional gang are still more interesting than I am. That's not going to change; it's why I'm a writer.

Susan's Author News: Jade Lee

2008-08-05T08:03:00.000-04:00

I met Jade Lee at Romantic Times last April and loved her. What energy. What verve. And so darn smart and quick and totally together...

Really, she's the sort you want to be like.

So when I saw this article about her, I had to spread the word. If it's true that her book is going to be turned into a graphic novel... whoo-whee. What fun that will be. I can't wait.

More when I know it.

Susan's Book Talk: Vlad Taltos

2008-08-02T07:54:00.001-04:00

It was a few years ago now that I first encountered Steven Brust via Cowboy Feng's Space Bar and Grille. I loved it; there's this hipness to it that never makes the reader feel like the narrator is too hip for you. Instead, you're part of the happenings.

Brust has a fantastic narrative voice.

But if I liked that one, I wasn't prepared for what Jhereg did to me. Or what Yendi did, now that I've finished it.

These books are really hard to explain. For one, they're science fiction, so they're set in an alternate reality that's intriguing as hell. (And must have taken Brust years to create; you guys commend me on my vision, but it's nothing next to Steven Brust.)

All I can say is, "Go read it and see."

My copy of Jhereg is long traded away, sad to say. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with Yendi yet, as I'm still away (or am I?) and thinking about books other than my own is low on my priority list right now.

Stay tuned. There will probably be more when I read Teckla. It's also sitting here, waiting for me. After that, while there are more in the series, they aren't in my house yet.

Must... fix... that...

So much for thinking about books being low on my priority list...

Fiction Outtake: Trevor's Bike (The Early Days)

2008-07-28T14:37:00.003-04:00

Dreams generally weren't welcome in Trevor Wolff's world. Why bother, when they so rarely came true?

Okay, the dream about the band had, but that was mostly due to Mitchell's refusal to give up. It had nothing to do with the magic of dreams, how you wake up and suddenly, one day, there it is. Whatever you'd wanted, waiting for you like on a silver platter. Nope, Mitchell had refused to rely on luck and dreams and all that other fairy shit. He'd buckled down and spent hours on the band's logo, the band's music, his own guitar, and even bass lessons for Trevor.

Not that Trevor was any closer to being good than he'd been on that first day when Mitchell had first put a bass in his hands. But whatever. He was in a band and who cared if he sucked? He looked good up there.

That was how dreams come true -- when you let yourself dream them.

The dream about the Vincent wasn't likely to come true through hard work. Vincents were rare. They cost a lot of money if they were in great shape. Sometimes, the falling apart ones cost a lot of money, too. ShapeShifter might have started to bring in the bucks, but Trevor still wasn't flush enough to pay those prices. Getting his hands on a Vincent wasn't a dream worth letting himself dream about.

Until the phone rang. "Hey, uhh, yeah. This is Ray, over at Hammer, Wrench, and Torque. This Trevor?"

He almost didn't answer; he was too busy grabbing at the cigarette that had fallen off his lip when he'd heard Wrench's voice. "Yeah," he finally said, trying to sound cool while he brushed ashes off his jeans and immediately began playing with the newly burned fibers.

"We wanted to let you know that someone dropped off the frame of a Vincent today. Looks like a D-series Shadow. You interested?"

Trevor's heart leaped out of his chest. He knew that feeling, all right -- but he'd never known it to feel so good.

"You might want to take a look before you say yes or no," Hammer said.

"I'll be there as soon as I can be," Trevor said. He'd have to call Mitchell and convince him to put down the guitar long enough to play chauffeur. It shouldn't be hard; Amy was home for a visit and that probably meant she was torturing the big idiot to no end. Not that he didn't deserve it, but Trevor needed a ride more than Mitchell needed what he deserved.

"Think hard, man," Hammer warned. "It may not be what you want, but if you've got the patience, it can be."

That alone was enough for Trevor. Even if it was a piece of steel that had been hammered flat, he wanted the bike.

No one knew better than Trevor Wolff what it was like to need some work. Or what the payoff was once someone who cared showed some patience.

Ahh. Trevor's back; I know you guys have missed him. I have, too.

Not sure what the fuss is about? Click on Trevor's name and it'll take you to his bio page. At the bottom are all sorts of links that will take you back to other posts here at the Meet and Greet that Trevor's starred in. There are a lot, so get a fresh cup of coffee and have fun!

100 Words Prompt: Pillars

2008-07-26T17:04:00.004-04:00

Sixteen flagpoles stand outside the dining hall in two rows: three and thirteen. Five hundred campers gather by the thirteen, hustling to get there first and earn the honors. The other three, they're for the staff. Full uniform. Attention, marching, parade rest. Ceremony. You know the drill.

Those flagpoles aren't merely for flags. They're the first ceremony for many of the Scouts, and the gathering spot used by all. While not in the center of camp, they are its centerpiece, the pillar from which all else spins out. Find those flagpoles, and you have found your way back to camp.

Funny how the Velvet Verbosity prompt this week is pillars, which works really well with my latest experience at Cub Scout Camp.

Yep, I'm back. Got some sleep after being awakened yesterday morning by a raccoon in my tent and nope, I didn't get a look at him. I just think it was kinda cool that he was there. #1 comes home with the Tour Manager tomorrow; I can't wait to hear what happened after I left.

Oh, and I am a left-handed archer. In case you care.

Fiction Outtake: Key Lime Pie (Trevor's Song era)

2008-07-22T17:16:00.007-04:00

No Thirteen this week, as I'm off to Cub Scout Camp again this summer. As a treat, I thought I'd show you what you guys inspired, based on your responses to this Thirteen I wrote back in May. Hope you like it; there may be more to follow if you do.

Eric didn't notice it until he was on his way back to sound check. He'd just taken a bathroom break that had been long enough to make his tech feel like part of the band instead of the stand-in for the real guitarist. Stupid touring; it got to him like this every few weeks, it seemed. It got to all of them, but he swore, he got it the worst.

He stopped by the deli tray to grab a slice of turkey. That's when he noticed it, sitting on the end of the table like it didn't need to be kept cold or anything.

Mitchell was not going to be happy about it.

Eric wasn't quite out of the dressing room when the rest of the guys pushed through the door.

"Nice of you to come back," Trevor told him with one of his usual sneers. "I thought you were a member of ShapeShifter."

"I didn't really want the guy puking on stage," Mitchell told the bass player. Eric tried to get a feel for the guy's mood. Sometimes, sound check went well and mellowed Mitchell out. Sometimes, it totally sucked and the guy was a dragon. Right now, he was talkative.

"Remember what happened when that one roadie puked?" Mitchell asked. "How fucking bad it smelled? And it lasted until the end of the tour, too. No, Eric, you did the right thing, ducking out on us. We wrote a new song," the band leader said.

Eric smiled wanly and flopped down on the couch. Mitchell was in a good enough mood. Maybe he wouldn't hurt someone when he noticed it.

… or then again, maybe he would, Eric thought when Mitchell growled, "What the fuck is that?"

Eric sat up to look.

Mitchell stood in front of it, breathing so hard, his nostrils flared. "Get someone in here who can explain this," he said.

Since the four of them were alone at the moment, Daniel jumped to do it.

"Just use it for an ashtray," Trevor said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and reaching to lead by example.

Mitchell strong-armed him out of the way.

"Well, fuck you, too," Trevor said.

"Not until we get some fucking answers," Mitchell growled. He hadn't taken his eyes off it. Eric wasn't sure he would, even though it was pretty obvious the thing wasn't going to move by itself.

Daniel came back. "They're going to find someone," he said and stood on his toes to peek over Mitchell's shoulder, as if he needed to be shielded from it. "At least this one's not green."

Mitchell growled more loudly. Daniel backed off. Even Trevor took a step back.

A few minutes passed with no one really knowing what to do. All four of them kept throwing glances at it, like they expected it to get up and come after them or something. Maybe melt, Eric decided, picking up a can of Coke from a bus tray full of melting ice. If that ice was melting, there was no way the non-green thing was in good shape.

Not like any of them would be dumb enough to eat it.

"There's a problem?" The mousy man who led Charlie, the band's tour manager, into the dressing room had seven strands of hair left at the front of his head. They'd been pulled back into a ponytail and they made the guy instantly memorable.

Charlie peeked over Mitchell's shoulder. "Whoa. That's some bad vibes." He turned to the mousy guy. "That a key lime pie?"

Mousy guy nodded. "My wife made it. She said she read in a magazine that you guys like key lime pies."

From across the room, Eric could hear Mitchell breathing. Hard. He closed his eyes and hoped the guy wasn't about to explode.

"Take it out of here," Mitchell said. It wasn't a request.

"But my wife…"

"Take it!"

"What'll I tell her?" The guy's eyes were darting everywhere, like he was about to panic.

Mitchell picked up the pie and pressed it firmly into the guy's chest. "Tell her you hope it doesn't stain. And tell her she needs to be more careful about what she reads because we fucking hate key lime pie."

He let go. Half the pie fell to the floor. The other half stuck to the guy's shirt.

"Oh," the guy said in such a small voice, it was almost a squeak.

Eric stood up. "Look," he said, "thank your wife for the pie, but explain to her that she read an article written by a reporter who has a problem with us ever since Trevor puked on him after eating a key lime pie that some fan had made."

"But my wife…"

Daniel put a hand on the guy's shoulder, looking with distaste at the custard smeared on his shirt, "Was wrong, and you got off light. We're the band. This pie was a violation of our concert rider and we could pull even more of a prima donna routine and make you very unhappy. You got off light. Hell, Charlie, give the guy a free t-shirt to wear and then call JR. We don't do shows with this joker anymore."

The mousy guy paled. "But…"

Mitchell started to laugh. "You're the promoter and you fucked up this royally? Dude, you're done. Go fucking sell real estate or something." He jerked his head toward the door and Charlie sprang into action, escorting the mousy promoter dude out of the dressing room.

Trevor and Daniel laughed. Even Mitchell relaxed enough to smile.

"The best laid plans…" Eric said and decided that pie or no, he needed to return to the bathroom.

Ahh, yes. Sometimes, it sucks to be in a band. If you're new to ShapeShifter, or if you want to read more, click on the links in each band member's name. That'll take you to that person's bio page. Once you've read the bio and gotten a bit of a background on them, you can follow the links at the bottom to read more of their adventures.

Not sure where to start?

Here are a few of my favorite ShapeShifter adventures on the road:

Backstage Party
Bean Dip #1
Bean Dip #2
Green Hair Week -- The Concert (You may need to read the whole series to really get it, but it's fun.)

If you need me for anything, I'll be back in a few days. The Tour Manager will hold the fort down while I'm gone.

Susan's Inside Writing: The 100 Words Prompt

2008-07-20T10:57:00.001-04:00

Every time I try to write something for this week's prompt, what I wind up with is too long. This is leading to the pleasant swelling of scenes I intend to post on this blog, treasures saved up for a day when inspiration runs low. But it's also leading to the unpleasant problem of not having anything worthwhile this week. Since I took last week off, I really want to be able to play along this week, especially since I'll be out of town for the next two weeks, which will make playing hard, as I'll have no Net access…

Susan Speaks: Laugh with Me

2008-07-18T20:37:00.003-04:00

Really. Once you get on my bad side, there's not a lot of hope for you.

Which is why I had to point out that the Pittsburgh Hilton is having a bit of trouble paying their workers.

This Hilton, I've learned, is actually a franchise hotel. Its owners claim to be digging themselves out of the financial hole they got themselves into. But the hotel still bears the Hilton name and a franchise or not, it's still the Hilton company who looks bad. 'Cause you can't tell me that the other three Hilton-named hotels I've had crappy experiences in were franchises, too. If so, then the Hiltons really ought to consider who they're letting buy in. I meant it when I said I was done staying at anything bearing the Hilton name.

I know that every single person at the Romantic Times Convention here in Pittsburgh with me are joining me in an impassioned eye roll, snicker, and even, perhaps, a shudder of horror at the memories of that place.

Thursday Thirteen -- Taking Your Suggestions

2008-07-16T19:48:00.002-04:00

A story in Thirteen parts

1. A few weeks ago, I posted about this website I'd found that listed fake bands. Seemed to me that ShapeShifter should be on there, but the site hadn't been updated in almost a year.

That goddess Winter went and contacted the dude, who said he's still collecting band names (but it helps if he's heard of them) but isn't planning an update anytime soon.

Well.

2. Many of you suggested that I make my own list of fake bands. Trevor won't let me do that, though. Most of you guys know him. He may be fictional, but he's an original, and he demands that the people around him be brave enough to be original, too.

3. I'd already been playing with this idea beforehand, so I went and made the time and ... check it out. A list of Rock and Roll fiction. Yeah, you know. Not just bands, but books about bands.

4. I began by making a list of what's on my shelves. Then I added in titles I'd run into in other places online. That added up to a long list.

5. As I kept looking around, I found more. You know how it is when you're looking for a purple car. Suddenly, most of the cars on the road are purple.

6. You may have heard of some of these books, like Reservation Blues, by Sherman Alexie. Or Roddy Doyle's The Commitments.

7. Maybe you've only heard of some of the authors, like Jay McInerney, who wrote Bright Lights, Big City.

8. The best-known might be Nick Hornby's High Fidelity.

9. Lots of these books were written by people with music industry experience (like me). Check out my favorites, Don Bruns and David Hiltbrand.

10. Nope, I haven't read all of them yet. Yes, I intend to! And no, I won't tell which I've read and which I haven't. (Well, okay, except for the above two. Sort of.) Some have been talked about on this blog, but you'll have to go find them...

11. That means you should read them, too, and form your OWN opinion. I hear lots of complaints about cliches -- do you see any? If so, where? (seriously. I want to know.)

12. If you know of any titles I'm missing, you know how to contact me. I'd like this list to be as complete as humanly possible.

13. All the buy links on my blog and website go to Powells. There are lots of reasons for this, but the least is that I get a cut if you buy anything. My plan with that piece of the action is to return it to you via giveaways. I'd love to start doing that, you know...

See the list!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

Susan Speaks: Here, There, and Everywhere

2008-07-14T08:32:00.003-04:00

As Lisa noticed, no Poetry Train from me. I was sort of hoping I wouldn't get to this point until next week, but here I am.

Here's the deal. Like most writers at certain points, it's time to step aside and deal with...

1. a short story I'm working on for submission. Yes, me, who was begged in graduate school to stop writing short stories because I'm so bad at them. It's time to see if I've learned a thing or two, writing outtakes.

2. A project I've had in the wings for a long time now. After talking to some really cool people about it, I think I'm going to go ahead.

3. Straightening out the agent thing. This is one of those things that's surprised me with how it's played out. In April, I approached an agent with a proposal for Trevor's Song. She was enthusiastic but wanted to discuss it further. She said the next day. I figured the next week, and I cleared my calendar.

Needless to say, I'm still waiting, and it's been three and a half months. Phone calls aren't being returned. Nor is e-mail. I'm thinking so much for that proposal and it's time to do what Trevor would.

4. Some other projects I've been wanting to get to.

5. Finishing up the novel-in-progress. Man, I've been drafting it forever. It's taken WAY too long, but not because of the blog.

and then there's the personal stuff.

1. I am absolutely ADDICTED to the Tour de France. Addicted, I tell you.

2. I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened, but the conditions in my gym have deteriorated to the point where I had a full-blown asthma attack while doing a program that shouldn't have had me breathing hard. It's my first attack in five years. I've been making noises for two months now to the Tour Manager that this was inevitable. I've skipped working out some days to avoid reaching this point. It can't be avoided any longer. Time to switch, most likely to the mondo snooty, cliquish, expensive place that's sadly the only option.

3. It's that time of year again! I am taking #1 to Cub Scout Camp again this year! If the idea of me in a snooty, cliquish, expensive health club isn't enough to make you snort your Frosted Flakes out your nose, this ought to be. Me in a metal-frame tent with an oil cloth over it, a platform supporting it, and two cots (with mattresses) inside. Not to mention the latrine at campsite.

Now, stop laughing. I absolutely adore it.

4. After camp comes vacation. We'll be staying in a very lovely looking B&B, and then moving to a cabin in a National Park. Yep, a return to the idea of going from the snooty to the rustic. I'm still loving it.

I'll be here, off and on. Make sure you've got me in your reader, but stop back anyway 'cause my blog stats could use the love. The better my blog stats, the better my bragging rights about you guys to people who'll come through in their ambition to get Trevor into print. Think of it that way.

See ya at some point I have yet to figure out...

Susan's Inside Writing: Old Friends

2008-07-12T15:44:00.003-04:00

The prompt this week at Sunday Scribblings is My Oldest Friend.

I've never been one to hold on to friends forever. The fact that the Tour Manager has been in my life as much as he has is, in and of itself, amazing. Yet we weren't friends until about thirteen years ago. Or maybe we were; who can really tell among all that teenage angst and jockeying for popularity and the right crowd?

I suppose it makes sense, then, that this is an issue that I see within my fictional band, ShapeShifter. The four men who make up the band are friends onstage and off. It all began when a shy kid named Mitchell Voss met the outlandish abused outcast, Trevor Wolff. (You can read this episode here on the blog or here as a cleaned-up, downloadable .pdf file. Your pick.)

Trevor had a vision. Mitchell had a guitar. ShapeShifter was born.

(This is one of my favorite posts about the two of them.)

In due time, Eric and Daniel were brought into the fold. Yes, this was the band's original lineup and yes, it's the lineup in the band's adventures here on the blog. It's also part of the crux of Trevor's Song, my on-the-market novel that this blog was originally designed to support.

There are other relationships lurking in my fiction. Daniel has had the same girlfriend since he was sixteen. Her name is Val and you can meet her here and here, among other places (click on her name to find them). I love playing with Val because she's so different from our other long-term woman in the place, Mitchell's love, Kerri. One of these days, I'll do even more with the Daniel-Val relationship. Daniel and Val have grown up together; their relationship is complex, a little bit twisted and maybe even a little bit tragic. Yet they endure.

There are other relationships bubbling around my fictional world, too. Music writer Chelle LaFleur has a crush on Mitchell (and who in her right mind doesn't? He's a dashing, romantic sort of guy with charisma out the very cute wazoo) -- and has since she first saw them driving into town in his dad's Ford Bronco with a U-Haul on back. Read about it here -- and marvel with me at how Chelle's voice has evolved.

Notice how much of this revolves around Mitchell? That's what being loyal to the cool people does for you, and one of the coolest people around is Lyric. Read about her first encounters with Mitchell here -- and watch for more to come. I've got them stashed aside for the right time to spring them on you.

I suspect that as this thing grows, as we get closer to getting Trevor's Song into some form of print, there will be more characters who are friends of the core crew around here. New friends, old friends -- friends are where it's at.

Says the woman who sits behind her computer all day, with only a cat for company...

(did you buy that last line?)

Thursday Thirteen -- Susan's Book Talk

2008-07-09T18:20:00.001-04:00

Lately, I've taken to posting about authors whose new releases cross my radar. There are plenty of them, of course -- and I'm always looking for more.

Since my latest update has thirteen authors with new releases (or re-releases), I figured I'd let the band party for another week and remind you of the good stuff that's already out there. Buying a book in the first 90 days of its release is a great way to support your favorite author (followed only by buying up everything else they've published in the past).

Here you go:

Thirteen Book Blips on Susan's Radar

1. Anna J. Evans
Wicked Witch of the West Village
Devil Take Me

2. RG Alexander
Who Needs Another Superhero?

3. Carrie Alexander
Nobody's Hero

4. Donica Covey
Tides of Maryna's Love

5. Dakota Cassidy
Accidentally Dead

6. Amy Wallen
MoonPies and Movie Stars is now out in paper!

7. Christina Dodd
Into the Shadow

8. Shelley Munro
Price of Love

9. Jennifer Estep
Karma Girl has been re-released in the mass-market-size format

10. Elin Hilderbrand
A Summer Affair

11. Lorelei James
Tied up, Tied Down

12. Stephanie Kuehnert
I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone

13. Vanessa Jaye
Felicity Stripped Bare

Let me know if you've encountered anything great, rave-worthy, or just worth talking about. Yes, feed my small book problem!

** A lack of link in the book title simply means you can't buy it via Powells. It's no statement of quality.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Susan's Book Talk: How Many Makes a Trend?

2008-07-08T14:38:00.006-04:00

Maybe it's a byproduct of that Thursday Thirteen I did about the Fake Bands site (which, according to its owner, won't be updated anytime soon). Maybe it's because I took the advice of many of you groupies and am working on my own listing of books about rock and roll. Maybe it's just because something's in the air.

BUT.

All of a sudden, I'm hearing about all these books that are coming out/have been released relatively recently that focus on ... what else? Rock and roll in some form.

First is Sheila Copeland's Diamond Revelation. This came out last November; I only found it because I'm that far behind in my print copies of Publishers Weekly.

Then came my dear resource Winter (which is better than a friend), telling me about Kathy Love's Vampire Band. I'm waiting for these books to show up in my PO Box so I can check them out.

More lately is Jeri Smith-Ready and her latest release, Wicked Game.

And last, Stephanie Kuehnert's I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone.

Yep, they're all on this Rock and Roll Fiction page I'm working on for the website. Don't worry if you don't click through and buy them now. You'll be able to once I finish with the new webpage.

Seems like a trend, huh? We've got vamp bands, young adult books about how girls relate to music, "an insider's view of the music industry, replete with money, materialism, jealousy, deception, sex, and cold hearted ambition" (says Publisher's Weekly).

So where's the book about the bass player who finds his life turned upside down the day after his best friend and partner-in-crime goes out and lands a date with a girl all by his lonesome?

Sometimes, when you step back and ponder if your view of things is correct, patience is a virtue that sucks big toes. Ya know? Even when you know the circumstances behind the delays, even when you agree that yes, there should be delays in this case...

I've never been patient. Ever. I keep telling myself that this is what I'm supposed to be learning right now: patience. It'll happen when the time is right, and I probably won't know when the time is right, no matter how much I want it to be right spanking now.

But, on a happy side, there's four or five books for all of us to read while we wait. One thing I hear over and over again is that books about rock stars don't sell.

There's four (or five, depending on how many of the Kathy Love books you pick up) chances to prove that credo wrong.

Let's go for it.

Springer Fiction: Encountering Eric

2008-07-06T20:02:00.003-04:00

It was nothing more than wishful thinking. Springer knew that. He knew that affording anything more than a new D string was out of the question. But he couldn't help himself. He had to stop in at Guitars by Gus and see what was new. Even a guy like him was allowed to dream.

Good thing dreaming was free. Since scrambling to put all that money together for the ShapeShifter Musical Hanukkah Celebration last December, Springer had been broke. His car insurance had come due, and since he had a job, Dad had made him cough up the cash for it.

"Son, you don't pay rent," Dad had pointed out.

Springer kept his mouth shut and handed over fifty bucks from his pay each week. That left him with just enough to fill his gas tank, although lately that hadn't been so easy, either. Springer had made his girl do some of the driving, but she hadn't been happy about it, and she let him know it.

Doing shit with her hadn't been happening much lately. Springer didn't want to think too much about that. He didn't want to think about much -- he just wanted to drop into Guitars by Gus and dream a little.

The shop was buzzing when he walked in. No one noticed him come through the door, which wasn't normal. Usually, you walked in and Gus himself or one of his kids was there to say hi. Today, no one.

That's because people were packed in. It was like someone was giving a clinic, one everyone else in town had known about, probably because they stopped in more often than once every few months.

Springer craned his neck, trying to see who was the cause of all the excitement.

No go.

He turned around and read the flyers taped to the front door, trying to read signs that weren't facing him. If there was anything there about a clinic today, he couldn't see it. Maybe it had been taken down.

Three people came in behind him, pushing Springer into the line to meet whoever it was. He tried eavesdropping on the conversations around him to find out who it was, but all he could hear was, "I brung this so he can sign it!"

As Springer got closer to the front of the line, one of Gus' sons shoved an oversize cardboard cover of the latest ShapeShifter album in his hands. "Here. You'll need this."

Springer stared at it in shock. No way. No fucking way. There was just no fucking way on this planet that he'd chanced into an in-store signing with someone from ShapeShifter. If only it was Eric… if only he could tell him what getting on stage with him at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration had meant. If only…

If only Springer's luck didn't suck. Seriously about that no fucking way bit. By the time he'd get up there, it'd turn out to be the other two. Or the drummer. Or Eric would get up and leave right before Springer could make eye contact with him or…

And then it was his turn, and it was Eric and …

Springer's mouth went dry. He tried swirling his tongue around in his mouth. Nothing.

Eric was looking at him. Hard. "I've seen you around somewhere…" the guitar god said.

Springer nodded and tried for words as he set the cover flat down on the table between them. "Musical…"

"Musical? Like South Pacific?"

Springer shook his head and held his hands up in Air Guitar position.

Eric nodded. "You won a jam with us at the Musical Hanukkah Celebration."

Springer nodded and just like that, the saliva returned to his mouth. So did the words. "That was so fucking cool to do. Man, if I could win it again next year, my life would be set, know that?"

Part of him stared in terror as his mouth kept flapping, spilling the worst case of the runs Springer'd had since the time he ate that bad bean burrito.

Eric was good about it, nodding and signing the cover flat Springer had set down, then flipping it over and writing something else.

Until he handed it back and made a motion with his head that Springer should step aside, the words kept coming. For all Springer knew, he was telling the guy about the time he lost his virginity. Or the stories his mom liked to torture him with, all about his potty training. Or …

Before he knew what had happened, Springer was out on the street, still babbling. That part of his brain that hadn't turned to mush was screaming at him, as angry as a brain could be.

He'd blown it. He'd been right there with Eric and hadn't said a single one of those things he'd needed to tell the man.

When he got back to his car and tossed the cover flat on the passenger side, too disgusted with himself to care about it, the words on back caught his eye. "See ya at the next Celebration."

Springer sat in the car and hugged himself. Maybe he wasn't such a fuck-up after all.

Haven't met Springer yet? I created him last winter, for the Second Annual Musical Hanukkah Celebration. (This link will take you to the genesis of the idea) Be sure to stop in for this year's fun. In the meantime, click on his name, or on ShapeShifter's, or Eric's and learn more about this fictional band who rules Springer's world.

Byline: Chelle LaFleur -- Deadlines

2008-07-03T14:50:00.002-04:00

Lots of you come up to me and try to keep me from leavin' shows when I got to. I try to be nice and all, but boys and girls, Chelle's got a deadline here. If she don't hit that deadline over at The Trumpet, her review don't make the paper. Capiche? And since the whole reason Chelle's got a job is to review bands for The Trumpet, if she don't make her deadlines, she don't get a paycheck.

You heard it first and you heard it here: Let Chelle make like Cinderella and get to the paper on time.

Another attempt at Velvet Verbosity's 100 word challenge! This one wrote itself, but I still like the first one better. If you've never met Chelle before, click on her name and check out her bio page, which includes links to more of her journalistic endeavors.

Booking Through Thursday: Holiday

2008-07-03T12:36:00.004-04:00

Because a long holiday weekend should make for a good stretch of reading time, this week's BTT is simple: What are you reading?

Well.

On my nightstand, I have a copy of Carole Nelson Douglas' Dancing with Werewolves. This is totally going to be the next book I rave about. LOVING it.

Downstairs (yes, that's how I divvy up my reading 'cause if I don't, a book is never on the right floor when I need it and yes, I'm too lazy to fix that numerous times a day, or when in my PJs for the night), I just started the Preston/Child creation Brimstone.

I need to put it down and read Kabbalah: A Love Story for my book club, which meets on Wednesday, though. Who, me? Putting it off to the last minute? Nah.

If you're not a BTTer, go on and tell me: what are YOU reading right now?

Thursday Thirteen -- July Fourth Fun

2008-07-02T20:03:00.000-04:00

Before we get to the fun, please be sure to stop over at the Midnight Moon Cafe today and wish Tempest a happy birthday!

Now, onto business:

Thirteen ShapeShifter July 4 stories

1. When the band was in their struggling, pre-record deal days, they played a local show at Decade. Ten people showed up. Ten people left around 8:30 to get a good view of the fireworks in Riverview Park. The show started at 8.

2. The year they signed their record deal, ShapeShifter was invited to play the big Riverview Park festivities. Until one of the city councilmen heard their music and went on record as saying, "I don't care if there's a Voss in the band. That garbage isn't polluting my July Fourth."

3. A year or two after that, the band tried to play a bigger show. Again, no one bought tickets. They got paid their guarantee, but it didn't feel much like a holiday.

4. Now, the band knows: either be in Europe where the Fourth isn't a holiday at all and people will come out in droves to see you, or take the week off.

5. Mitchell prefers taking the week off. This is because he's got a small love affair going with his grill. And what better holiday is there for grilling than the Fourth?

6. I'm sure many of you are expecting to hear how Trevor likes to go wild with the fireworks on the Fourth. Except… he doesn't. After all, everyone does fireworks on the Fourth and his name is Trevor Wolff, thankyouverymuch. He's not everybody.

7. Daniel, however, has no such qualms. If they make it, he's tried it. Usually using the back yard of Mitchell's parents as his launching pad.

8. He spends a lot of time making nice to the neighbors. It's not totally necessary, but Sonya and Patterson insist on it. They're big on doing the right thing, especially after those small fires that Daniel's experiments started…

9. Mitchell tried using sparklers as lights so he could see the steaks on the grill. It wasn't one of his better ideas. He got so busy trying to see what he was doing, he burned his fingers.

10. Guitar players plus burned fingers does NOT equal a good idea in anyone's book. Except maybe for Kerri and Amy's. But then, when those two get together, whatever happens usually finds Mitchell bearing the brunt of it.

11. Like the flowered apron that Amy managed to not only get over his head, but knotted so well that Mitchell finally took a steak knife to it in order to escape.

12. Of course, when you get four guys in a band together and add beer and a relaxed environment, you get one thing… a jam session.

13. All four guys get to apologize to the neighbors in the morning, including their friend the city councilman. Yeah, the one who didn't want ShapeShifterly garbage polluting his July Fourth.

Want more? Need some background? Click on the links in the peoples' names above and you'll be transported to their bio page at my main website. If you click on the name of the town, you'll find out why #2 caused some waves...

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Fiction Outtake: Foot Pedals (the Early Days)

2008-06-29T21:47:00.003-04:00

It all began the day Mitchell bought the pedals for his guitar.

"You plug it in, right?" he asked Trevor, who looked up from an inspection of the match he'd just used to light a joint.

Trevor shrugged.

Mitchell stuck the plug into the hole on his guitar. The power cord went into
the outlet. "That's all, right?"

Trevor shrugged.

Mitchell tried a note. Nothing. He stepped on the pedals. Nothing.

"What the fuck?"

Trevor took a drag off the joint and gave Mitchell one of those raised-eyebrow looks that meant he was echoing the question. "Ask Gus," the bass player said once he'd exhaled. "He sold you the fucking thing. He shoulda showed you how to make it work."

Mitchell pulled his head into his shoulders. "I told him I'd read the manual if I needed help."

"So why don't you?"

"Gus kept it. He told me to figure it out on my own."

Trevor nodded slowly. It reminded Mitchell of those wise men in those bad movies Trevor always liked to watch. "So go figure and leave me the fuck alone already."

Mitchell shook his head and turned back to the new pedal. Gus was right. The best way to master something like this was to fart around with it until you understood it.

Still… it had to have a power switch or something.

Didn't it?

Ahh, my boys. If you're new to Trevor and Mitchell, click on their names to learn more about them and to maybe even read a few other outtakes they star in. You know you want to.

If you're not new to Trevor and Mitchell, why not poke around some anyway? Refresh your memory, find something new. There's plenty in my archives, you know.

Susan's Inside Writing: Vision

2008-06-28T20:14:00.003-04:00

I love this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt. It's ripe with possibility.

Vision

Do I write about how Scott from Deadly Metal Hatchet wears glasses? Things Chelle observes in her role as a rock and roll reporter for the fictional Trumpet newspaper? What about Roadie Poet? What's in his vision these days besides a friend named Hambone and a girlfriend he calls More?

I could just post the outtake I have ready to go on Sunday night (so if you're reading this after Sunday, be sure to check it out). It's all about a vision Mitchell has. Or I could point you to an archived outtake, like this one. (For anyone familiar with my archives, it's the Flags outtake.)

But when you get right down to it, this blog and everything on it best represents my vision. My vision of my fictional world, my vision of what it's like to share it with readers, my vision of what it means to be a writer in 2008. Yes, I'm dying to bring you Trevor's Song, the novel. No, I can't even begin to tell you how much richer your reading experience will be because you hang out here with me. Or even stop in and visit from time to time, as many of you do.

I can tell you how much richer my own writing and my own vision for my fiction has become. Because I've got this place and because I've got readers, I'm constantly pushing myself to dig deeper into this fictional city of Riverview, USA. Not to mention the things I push myself to discover about these characters you read about here. Yes, even the ones you don't seem to love nearly as much as you love Trevor and Mitchell.

One thing really strikes me in all this: when I began to envision my fake band ShapeShifter (the fake band bit is a reference to my Thursday Thirteen this week and ooh, it hurts to think of these guys as fake. Fictional, sure. Fake? Not so much.), it was Mitchell and Kerri I created first. Trevor has become the proverbial secondary character who insisted on ... well, not just his own book, but really running the show.

Yet look at this. Who do you guys relate to the most? Who are your favorites? Trevor, Mitchell, and Roadie Poet (with Chelle running a close second and probably Lyric right there with her, if you knew her better).

They are all men.

I wish I could tell you about the rejection letters I've gotten from literary agents who ask me who'd want to read a book about a man. That's the reason some of them cite for why they don't want to work with me. They tell me that men don't read as many books as women, and that Trevor's Song can't possibly appeal to women.

Yet Trevor has become the man you can't help but love. You want more of him and frankly, I don't blame you. Trevor breaks the rules, and he does so in a manner that irritates a lot of people because he flaunts those rules he's busy breaking. He blows marijuana smoke in the faces of the school principals while Mitchell hides in a bathroom stall, afraid of what'll happen once he's caught and has to face his father. He's the bad boy with a soft side that everyone but him acknowledges.

I am eager to share my vision with you. I've often been vocal about the idea to collect the outtakes I've written and self-publish a little volume of them, for no reason other than to let you have some Trevor and Mitchell to hold into your hands. I'm holding off on that for now for reasons I don't want to get into, but know that it's something that I just may have to pull a Trevor and do for you. Flaunt the rules, do things my way, on my own terms...

Yeah, that's part of my vision for myself and for you, my readers. There's plenty more, of course, so stay tuned for it.

Susan's Book Talk: It's been a Big Week

2008-06-27T19:12:00.003-04:00

I'd been all celebratory when I decided to write up this post. After eight days away on business, the Tour Manager was headed home. Then he called to say he'd been held hostage on the plane AT THE GATE for an hour.

Poof! There went my shiny mood.

Anyway, so many of you responded that I should start my own website for fake bands that I'm going to. Sort of. It's going to be a page on my main site that'll feature books about rock and roll. I've got about sixty (maybe more) listed already. If you have suggestions, leave 'em in the comments or drop me an e-mail.

Huge thanks once again to Winter for doing not only my awesome ShapeShifter logo but for doing a bit of investigating on that front.

Anyway. Back to the books. This was a big week for news of releases to cross my path. Ready for what I've found?

Beth Williamson: Hell for Leather

Joely Sue Burkhart: Beautiful Death

Gena Showalter: The Darkest Pleasure

Lauren Dane: Making Chase (now in print!)

Melanie Atkins: Voodoo Bones

Vivian Zabel: Midnight Hours

Phyllis Campbell: Danger in Her Arms (now in print!)

and last but perhaps most longingly by me (because I'm missing her release party!)
Kathryn Miller Haynes: The Winter of her Discontent

Busy week, huh? Congratulations to all my author buds on their new releases. May your sales be huge and your advance earned out soon. And may the Tour Manager actually get off that plane and be back West of Mars.

Thursday Thirteen -- Susan's Scary Brain

2008-06-25T19:50:00.000-04:00

Thirteen Things I Think

So most of you guys are familiar with the fiction I create here at this blog (as opposed to my other blog, Win a Book, which is mostly about contests to win books. For now.). What you don't get to see too terribly often is the warped way in which my mind works through things.

I thought I'd change that up for you today, knowing fully well that you very well may run screaming into the night, terrified of what really lurks here. At the very least, I expect many of you to beg for more fiction in the future.

1. I found this site, FakeBands.com.

2. I decided that I aspire to have my fake bands, ShapeShifter and Deadly Metal Hatchet (and all that will follow) listed there. ShapeShifter first, of course. They're better known. They're more musically talented.

3. One downside is that this site is pretty out of date; the last update was almost a year ago. And there aren't any bloggers represented. Of course, that could be because of the date of the last update. A year is a long time in the world of technology. Or it could be that I truly am this unique. Which means I deserve a spot of my own, here, there and everywhere.

4. Many of my friends pointed out that even though ShapeShifter exists only on a blog for now, there is a book waiting to be published. That means that I'm more than just a blogger.

5. More than one friend has commented that ShapeShifter seems more real than certain real bands. That's not just a compliment to me, but for this Fake Bands site, it's got to be a plus.

6. Looking at some of the other bands listed there, I wonder if The Barbarian Brothers or Stevie Faith or Jizm have fans who feel that way. (The Cheetah Girls might, but it's possible they're the only ones. Or are you going, "Who?")

7. Maybe I'd get too much notice for ShapeShifter if they are included. According to All Music Guide, there already are a few real bands named ShapeShifter. Some are even making music today.

8. I think that automatically means I can't be included on FakeBands. I'm not sure. I still think my band should be.

9. After all, part of me thinks that yeah, okay. Say another one of these Shape Shifter bands (or Shapeshifter, but still not spelled identically to my band) gets mad and sues me. Think of all that publicity I'd get for myself!

10. Lawsuits are hassles best avoided, but in this case, it could be fun. After all, my ShapeShifter doesn't make electronic and reggae and whatever else. They're a rock band. Maybe they have a blonde lead singer like Mitchell, but so does Motley Crue, Poison, and Warrant. None of whom are the least bit like ShapeShifter, who wore jeans and leather in the 80s, not spandex.

Nor are they like other four-member rock bands. Look at U2. Compare Trevor to Bono. Whoa. Hope that didn't blow your mind too thoroughly. Or is that a snicker I hear?

11. Part of me wonders if I'm too late in my ambition. The Fake Bands folk have already compiled all of this into a book. At best, I'd only make it into the second edition. Does Trevor Wolff do seconds? I suppose if she's pretty enough...

12. And really. If this were such a great thing to be part of, why did it take me over two years of blogging to discover it? Or am I having sour grapes? It's possible. The Net is huge. Which is, of course, part of the problem when it comes to making my fake band a household name.

13. I'm on the fence here. To be immortalized with Tijuana Tokyo, or not to be. That is the question. Opinions?

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

ShapeShifter unveiled!

2008-06-24T11:19:00.000-04:00

I can't even begin to thank my friend Winter enough. She volunteered to take my rough idea of the ShapeShifter logo and was able to turn it into something amazing and incredible. Please stop by Winter's place and rave about what she's done for me. And if you have ideas of a special pressie as a way of saying thanks, I'm all ears.

One question before I spend the day staring in rapture at it (again): Do you think it'll help my chances of being listed here? I mean, is that site tailor-made for me, or WHAT? You know I aspire to be there.

Fiction Outtake: Protection (just before Trevor's Song era)

2008-06-22T20:55:00.005-04:00

I found this new prompt site, Velvet Verbosity, which challenges you to be inspired by a one-word prompt, but to make your inspiration fit into 100 words. No more, no less. This week's word: Protection.

Yeah. I thought the same thing.

"It's time," ShapeShifter's manager said. "You need to protect yourselves."

"Sounds like it's the girls who need to be protected from us."

"Either way. You're at the point in your career where you need to be careful. Paternity suits might be only nine months away."

No one smiled. Trevor didn't smirk. It wasn't funny. This was about contracts and rules and following them, three things Trevor particularly hated. This was about growing up, which was one of those things Trevor had vowed to never do.

"If we have to, we have to," Mitchell said. He wasn't happy about it, either.

To learn more about ShapeShifter, Trevor, and Mitchell, follow these links. You'll be taken to their bio pages, and from there, you can read more of their fictional hijinks.

Giving You... Bobbie Faye!

2008-06-22T09:56:00.003-04:00

As promised in my most recent Book Talk post (missed it? You should fix that), I have a spare copy of Toni McGee Causey's debut novel, Bobbie Faye's Very (very very very) Bad Day. Autographed.

You want to read this. You need to read this. You'll never have a bad day again once you read this because compared to a Bobbie Faye day, you're small potatoes.

I promise.

Leave me a comment between now and next Sunday, June 22, and I'll pick a winner. All the usual rules apply: anyone on the planet, previous winners okay, you must be cool, I'll let the kids pick a number and the person who left that comment number wins.

One more thing, though. Since Bobbie Faye has a bad day, what's the worst you can come up with? Tell me in the comments; just saying, "enter me" isn't enough. You gotta work for it 'cause baby, you're still not working half as hard as Bobbie Faye does.

Thanks for the linkage! To Suey at It's All About Books and to myself at Win a Book.

Edited to add: congratulations to Tracy at BookroomReviews for winning this copy! Hopefully she'll read and review it there, too. This really is one of those books that deserves wider attention.

BTT: Flavor

2008-06-19T16:25:00.004-04:00

Booking Through Thursday has regained its stride, I'd say.

Think about your favorite authors, your favorite books . . . what is it about them that makes you love them above all the other authors you’ve read? The stories? The characters? The way they appear to relish the taste of words on the tongue? The way they’re unafraid to show the nitty-gritty of life? How they sweep you off to a new, distant place? What is it about those books and authors that makes them resonate with you in ways that other, perfectly good books and authors do not?

I think any of you groupies around here will know my answer: it's all about character. If you asked me to describe that eternal classic Flowers in the Attic, I'd tell you about the evil grandmother, the panty-waist mom, the curious kids who were a bit too smart for their own good. Maybe I'd mention the air that hung over the whole book, dark, dank, and malodorously ugly. But I'd definitely talk about each character's personality.

Same for just about any other book I read. Heck, I just finished The Rapture of Canaan and found myself thinking more about the character of Ninah and what a catalyst for change she is, versus her grandfather, around whom the society revolves. Really, the story's about a community in flux, but not to me. It's about how Ninah puts them there.

Now, to get a bit more personal...

If you're not a groupie but just dropping by to visit, you should know that I'm a writer, and that one of the things that keep my regulars coming back to read the fiction that I post here is ... yes, you guessed it. The emotional investment that all of these guys (and myself, of course!) have developed to my character, Trevor Wolff.

Here on the blog, I love to write about moments, outtakes I call them because they aren't long enough to be a short story and they aren't as fully contained as a good flash fiction ought to be. I pick these moments from the years leading up to Trevor's Song, my novel awaiting publication, from the time around when the book is set, and I've even done one or two others that are set after the time period of the book.

Everyone comes back, time and again, week after week, to see what Trevor's up to this time. Even if my readers can't relate directly to Trevor, they key into him in very astute ways. They see that his gruffness is just a cover, that he's smarter than he pretends to be, and that he's a hell of a people person -- in his own way. And when he and Mitchell start playing off each other, it's better than George and Gracie or Lucy and Ricardo. (However, that sort of implies that the boys are gay, which they're not. In fact, in the book, they find themselves in a bit of a love triangle, with a redhead at the center of it. Sort of.)

As a reader and as a writer, it's all about character. The literary agent I'm still in discussions with has described Trevor's Song as a character study.

That ... umm, characterization ... of my work flatters me beyond words.

If you click on Trevor or Mitchell's names, you'll be taken to a page on my main website that gives you a quick character sketch. At the bottom of each page are links back here to the blog, direct links to different outtakes and Thursday Thirteen lists and other fun I've had with these two pretend men. Or you can go to the Free Downloads section of the site and do a tiny bit of reading in chronological order. Your choice, but I do invite you to poke around and become a groupie, too!

Thursday Thirteen -- Progress

2008-06-18T10:40:00.007-04:00

Thirteen Things for my Groupies

1. I've added a new download to the Free Downloads page of my website.

2. The new one is called Meeting Trevor.

3. You might have read it here, in a slightly different version. From the size of the comment trail, it looks like a lot of you have missed it.

4. I took some time and cleaned it up and edited it before letting it be a download.

5. That's because what goes on the blog is usually a first draft, or close enough to it to be called a first draft.

6. Part of the idea here is that the downloads will be easier to find, even though you can click on any character on their page at the website and find a list of blog posts that involves them.

7. Another bonus of the outtakes is that they will be in chronological order, which is something that currently doesn't exist anywhere. Some of you have asked for this. I'm happy to provide.

8. We'll try to remember to put a little "NEW" icon by the newest outtake when we post them.

9. For now, they'll all be set in the years before my novel, Trevor's Song, takes place. You'll get a unique look at the backstory that creates the book.

10. If Trevor's Song isn't published by the time I go through all my outtakes, I'll figure something out. Self-publish or write more outtakes are the two most obvious solutions!

11. A bonus to doing this is that if there's enough demand, I can collect the downloads into an actual book that you can buy and put on your shelves and give to friends. That's going to be entirely dependent on demand, however.

12. One thing that jazzes me is that when people ask if they can buy my book, I can say no, but they can read for free on my website.

13. Tell all your friends. Let's make them fall as deeply in love with Trevor and company as you are.

If you don't have a Groupie banner but want one, let me know!

Susan's Book Talk and Author Spotlight

2008-06-15T21:11:00.004-04:00

Let me first tell you who's up to what since my last report a whole two weeks ago...

LA Day, who is cool, has a new release at Ellora's Cave: Satin Seduction. And for you Fictionwise shoppers, her Undercover Pleasure Droid (which is a truly kick-ass title and I want it for myself) is now available there.

The awesome and smart Shelley Munro seems to have her name on two new releases, too: Lovers at Last and Midnight Treat, an anthology that's now available in print.

Beth Williamson, who I met at RT and thought was quite lovely and I'd like to be her friend, has an entry in the perfectly timed Sand, Sun, and Sex series. It's available in an e-book AND in print, for those who prefer to hold a book, not some sort of electronic device. Oh, yeah. It's called Marielle's Marshal.

And my dear friend Red Garnier has another new one. Color my Heart is its name. You know you can't resist.

Completely without intending to, I won a copy of the Nothing But Red anthology from Jessica Tudor, with whom I've been chatting all things Pittsburgh Penguins. This is an important book, one whose genesis just makes me sick. Let's all band together and make a difference in the world. A positive one.

And now... to make a difference in YOUR world, let me rave about Toni McGee Causey's Bobbie Faye's Very (very, very, very) Bad Day. I met Toni in an elevator at RT, where she showed off her Suck Me, Shuck Me t-shirt and raved about her book. She was on this incredible adrenaline high; I took to her immediately. Getting to know her a bit better at the Mystery Chix and a Dick breakfast that final morning before the book sale (hey, it was final for me!) was a treat. I hope to have lots more Toni goodness for you guys in the future. (Hey, Toni! Are you listening?)

Anyway. The book.

I mentioned in my last Book Talk that I was reading this and loving it. It only got better. Bobbie Faye is this woman who seems to be able to do nothing right, yet has as many fans as she has detractors. Think Stephanie Plum and her exploits and multiply it by a factor of ... a million. If it can go wrong, it does (except for maybe blisters. Maybe.) -- but somehow, Bobbie Faye finds a way out.

Not only does Causey write fantastic action sequences (that didn't make me squint as I tried to envision and understand what was happening. Ever notice how some do?), but the romantic male lead... okay, his name is Trevor, so I'm partial in the first place. He's a Trevor worthy of the name.

That was in April when I first met Toni. A few weeks ago, the second in the Bobbie Faye series came out, Bobbie Faye's (Kinda, sorta, not exactly) Family Jewels. I threw it on my wish lists at the book trading sites ... I'm not the only person at Paperback Swap who's a fan of Bobbie Faye, let me tell you. I'm #50 of 56 (at last check) in line for a copy.

Know what that means? Word's getting out, and fast. Check Toni and Bobbie Faye out and help spread the word, yourself. You know you want to.

You can thank me later.

(btw, stay tuned or scroll or something. I wound up with an extra copy of Very Bad Day and will be giving it away here in a second or two. See? I knew you wanted to!)

Fiction Outtake: Backstage with Jen

2008-06-13T21:14:00.002-04:00

I had my head down, which had to be the dumbest thing I've ever done. I'm supposed to walk at the back of the line and make sure there aren't any stragglers. I'm supposed to be helping out. That's part of my job, part of the price that goes with the perks of all these backstage gigs. I'm supposed to be working.

Work is what I was thinking about, too, which makes this even stupider. It's been on my mind lately. Is this what I want to spend my life doing? Seriously?

When I looked up, I'd walked to the usual meet-and-greet area, right outside the band's dressing room. Only, no one was there.

This is a problem. The backstage area in this Civic Center is huge. There were only about twenty people lined up for the meet-and-greet, and twenty people can barely fill one of the corners in here. Not to mention, they can be practically anywhere. I could spend the entire night hunting for them and still be looking when the last of the production trucks pull out.

Fortunately, before I could panic, a woman came out of the band's dressing room. She wasn't much taller than me, but she was wearing these amazingly high fuck-me heels. Skinny jeans that rode so low on her hips, I knew she couldn't bend over and keep them on. And the hair. Jet black and hanging loose, halfway down her back and teasing the back of her bustier, which, o of course, laced up the front and pushed her boobs halfway up to her chin.

I don't think I need to mention she had the nails and makeup to match.

I was staring at rock and roll royalty, only I had no idea who she was. About all I can tell you is that she was not crew. Nor was she your regular, run-of-the-mill groupie. Not with that air of belonging that she had.

She frowned at me and put the backs of her hands on those skinny little hips. I could almost see her hip bones. I didn't even want to try to compare them to mine. "Hmm," she said. "Looks like you're lost."

I nodded helplessly. There were no words for her. There were no words from me at all at that moment, which wasn't the smartest thing. I should have been introducing myself to her; I had every right to be … well, at the meet-and-greet, doing my job.

"Well," she said and turned, taking her hands off her hips and motioning me forward with one, "let's go. I'll take you over there."

There was no sigh that showed she didn't want to be responsible for me. No nothing. Just straight matter-of-fact, no big deal. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was easier than letting me be in the wrong place when the band came out. They might get a big laugh out of the record label rep who had to follow the band to get to where she belonged, or they might go ballistic that I wasn't in my place. They were, after all, the band. I worked for them, and this one in particular wasn't one you pissed off or fucked around with. Not if you want to hang on to your job.

And don't you think that us local reps forget that. Once we do, we're done.

"Hey Charlie," my guide called when we'd gone around two corners and stood in a huge open space that would soon be filled with roadies pushing road trunks to their specific trucks for the trip to the next town. "I found a lost soul for you."

"I was wondering where you'd gotten to, Jen," the band's tour manager said. I touched the girl's elbow in thanks and went to stand with Charlie.

"Thanks, Val," the tour manager called as the woman strutted off.

"Val?" I echoed. Something about the name struck a chord, but I couldn't place it.

"The drummer's girlfriend?" Charlie said, giving me a look that told me I should have known this. I probably should have; when I'd started as a record rep, I'd known everything about every band on our label. I'd probably even met this woman. Hell, I'd probably talked to her at one point. Maybe even known her name back then.

After awhile in this job, names and faces start to blend together. The troublemakers and the divas, those are the ones who stand out, followed by the cool ones. My guide would be one of them now, too. She was the exact person I'd dreamed of being when I'd taken this job.

I began handing out cover flats and talking to the guests as I pulled Sharpies out of my purse, getting everyone ready for the band's appearance. Just doing my job, basically. But part of my brain wondered if this was really what I wanted to be doing the rest of my life. I'd passed the point at which I could morph into rock royalty, like I'd once dreamed of being.

I guess the question was who was I, and who did I want to be now.

You groupies may recognize Charlie and Val (and the mention of Daniel, too), but this is really Jen's piece. I'm not sure who she is, not really, except that I CAN say she's not autobiographical, as the Tour Manager asked. And while I'd like to get to know her more, I'm not sure there's a novel in her. We'll have to wait and see.

BTT: Clubbing

2008-06-12T19:53:00.002-04:00

Gotta love this week's Booking Through Thursday:

Have you ever been a member of a book club? How did your group choose (or, if you haven’t been, what do you think is the best way to choose) the next book and who would lead discussion?

Do you feel more or less likely to appreciate books if you are obliged to read them for book groups rather than choosing them of your own free will? Does knowing they are going to be read as part of a group affect the reading experience?

Nope, never been a book club member. Sorry. I OWN my book club.

No, I didn't buy them. I don't run roughshod over them. They just like me so much that the job of leader is mine until I don't want it any more. We've been together for almost eight years now. I love my group.

As to the reading experience, we all try harder to finish something we don't like. There was one that the whole group hated. They won't let me live down the fact that they managed to finish it and I couldn't. Believe me, I tried. It just wasn't meant to be.

Our most recent book was so poorly written that it made me gag. I've got another whole post about that, so stay tuned. One of the women described it as "Susan versus everyone else" and while I can't say that's not entirely true, it's not entirely false, either. I doubt I would have finished it if it weren't a book club choice, but the story was ... well-intentioned. The bones of it were there, and that part was ... okay. It was supposed to be about a woman, the title character. Instead, it was the story of her husband and his struggle to be a good husband. Okay, fine. I can deal. Just call it something else, will you? Of course, that ruins the theme of the series...

And yes, I'll shut up and smile when we read the third in this particular series. Hopefully, the author has taken more time and gotten the writing up to where it was in the first book. We'll see...

One note that the BTT question didn't address: Yes, I feel terrible when something I brought to the group is a total dog. But when I suggest something like Disobedience or A Day of Small Beginnings or A Thread of Grace (okay, a non-member suggested that one and I pushed for it), it's that much sweeter.

Thursday Thirteen -- The Music Store

2008-06-11T19:00:00.002-04:00

Thirteen snappy comebacks (read on)

Leah Braemel had this story to tell, and it's so perfect, I had to share it.

In case you're too lazy to click the link (shame on you!), in a nutshell, the story goes like this: two guys shopping early morning in a guitar store. No one's around except this long-haired heathen, playing a guitar hooked up to a monstrous amp. An amp that's been turned to 11, at least. Maybe 14. In a guitar shop, not a concert hall.

For about half an hour, the shoppers do their best to shop, but Mr. Heathen-on-Guitar won't let up. He's got a full-on jam going.

But then, when he stops, one of Leah's guys yells, "Hey! Shut the fuck up!"

Oops. Turns out that Mr. Heathen-on-Guitar is a Mega Big Rock Star. You Ozzy fans might have heard of him and no, I'm not talking about Randy Rhoads. Think more current. Think who's playing with him currently.

Now, we have no way of knowing what the real Mr. Heathen-on-Guitar said or did, or if this is a story he even retells -- if he's cool, he does, complete with a chuckle at the chowderheads who didn't recognize him and a second chuckle at himself for not convincing the guys to buy the new guitar he was there to promote.

And since I've already taken great liberties with the retelling of this story, I think I'll take a few more.

What if Mr. Heathen-on-Guitar (isn't that a fine British name, sort of like Stratford-on-Avon?) had been ShapeShifter's Mitchell Voss? Or ShapeShifter's lead guitarist, Eric Wallace? Or even our favorite bad boy, Trevor Wolff (who'd never do this sort of thing because it involves playing in public without Mitchell covering his sorry musicianship, but he'd open his mouth and defend his best friend -- in typical Trevor style.), and don't forget our drummer, Daniel Sydor, too.

Here's what they might have said:
1. Eric: Hey, come check out my new guitar. I'll let you play it.

2. Eric: Oops. Sorry I'm so loud. Here, have some guitar picks.

3. Eric: Got anything you want me to autograph?

4. Mitchell: No.

5. Trevor: If you don't like the sound of a guitar, go home.

6. Trevor: Who the fuck died and made you the music police?

7. Mitchell: Why?

8. Daniel: Hey, I'm just the drummer. Don't look at me.

9. Trevor: I can tell them to make it louder.

10. Mitchell: Next you'll ask me to play fucking Freebird.

11. Trevor: Are you some Bettina Beverly* fan?

12. Mitchell: What? I can't hear you!

13. Trevor: We were here first. First come, first served doesn't only apply to me and my girls, you know.

* Bettina Beverly? Think Celine Dion, only Riverview style.

And now that you've had fun with me and the band, go thank Leah for inspiring me so nicely this week, okay? I know she'd appreciate meeting you.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Deadly Metal Hatchet Fiction: Fozzy's Skateboard

2008-06-09T07:54:00.003-04:00

So you came here, expecting to read about this fictional ShapeShifter band. Nope. Not today. I've been playing with this idea for the other band that's starting to test the waters here, and finally had the time/energy to get it down. If you're new to Deadly Metal Hatchet, they are a baby band -- as compared to ShapeShifter's world domination -- who are more about the Deadly Metal Hatchet, their gimmick, then they are about music. In a word, they suck. But they aren't letting that stop them.

Lido could only stare when Fozzy pulled it out of his road case. If it had been Scott or Gecko, he wouldn't have blinked or thought twice or anything like that. But this was Fozzy. He who hated having his picture taken, even when he was wearing jeans and long-sleeved shirts. Not that he had scars on his arm, but that was Fozzy for you. He'd almost died in a motorcycle accident; he was allowed to be weird about certain things.

"You for real?" Scott asked as Fozzy set it on the floor and put a foot on the deck, testing its stability.

"Yeah."

"But… Fozz…" Lido paused, not sure how to word this. Fozzy could be sensitive -- too freaking sensitive, as Scott would say -- about anything that might make any one of them bring up the motorcycle accident.

And, of course, Fozzy was glaring at him. Daring him to go there.

Lido could hear the Hatchet panting.

He held up his hands. "It's just not you, man. That's all."

Fozzy laughed that bitter, harsh laugh that made Lido cringe. It was the sound of the Hatchet and as much as Lido loved the band's gimmick, he hated when Fozzy tried to bring it into their lives like this.

"It's not me," Fozzy said and laughed again. "Like you'd fucking know."

Scott eased over so he was standing beside Lido, like he was getting ready in case Fozzy charged. Scott was really the only one who could defuse Fozzy when he got like this, but Lido wasn't so ready to hand the control over.

Without ideas of what to say next, Lido started to rethink that idea of control.

Fozzy moved his leg back and forth. The wheels made a cool sound.

"Do that again," Lido said, tilting his head to listen. When Fozzy did, he sang a few nonsense syllables along.

Scott patted Lido on the shoulder as Fozzy nodded and stepped up onto the skateboard. He wobbled immediately and jumped off -- and glared at Scott and Lido, as if he was expecting them to laugh at him.

Lido just shrugged. "Guess it takes practice."

"We've got plenty of time for that," Scott said, glancing at his watch as if it meant something. It didn't. Not really. Their tour manager would round them up when they needed to get ready to go on stage. All they had to do was find a way to kill the time between now and then.

"I know," Fozzy said. "That's why I did this." He tried the skateboard again and managed to stay on a hair longer.

Scott touched Lido's shoulder, telling him to stop staring and come along. In typical Fozzy fashion, the guy didn't want an audience.

It was enough to make you wonder why the guy had picked up the guitar in the first place. But then again, with Fozzy, most things made you wonder.

Like what you see? Want to know more about Deadly Metal Hatchet? There's not a lot yet, but if you follow this link (or the one above, the first time their name appears), it'll take you to their bio page, which links to more fiction about them. Happy reading and be sure to leave comments, even on the old posts!

Susan's Inside Writing: Nights

2008-06-07T21:14:00.000-04:00

By now, the devoted groupies of you should have caught on to the fun I've been having with certain writing prompts. Like this week's Sunday Scribblings.

The prompt this week, for those of you who didn't go visit it, is called "My nights." My nights anymore are boring. The Tour Manager puts the kids to bed and I dive for this here computer and begin trying to catch up on everything I didn't accomplish during the day: blogs, outtakes, and the current novel-length Work in Progress.

Yeah. Like I said, boring.

But, you lucky people you, I write about people who come alive at night. No, not vampires (although some would call KISS such).

I write about a rock band (well, two of them now that I've got Deadly Metal Hatchet) and the people who orbit them. That gives me lots of opportunities to write about the night.

I mean, when you're as big a band as ShapeShifter, you play at night. Even when you're participating in those day-long (or multi-day-long) concerts. You get to close the show. Like ShapeShifter did that one New Year's Eve. Or this night.

A good way to spend a night off is to go check out a new band.

The night doesn't end when a band leaves the stage. Oh, no. First, the band's gotta have a post-show meal. Or a party.

Sometimes, when a band is in its early days, roadies are hard to afford. That means the band has to do their own load-out after the show. This isn't always such a bad thing. After all, they might meet interesting people. Or field interesting propositions.

Nights are also good for dreams and serenades. Interesting things bubble out of your subconscious at night. And it's easy to be romantic at night.

Yeah, I'd rather spend my nights writing about the fictional rock band ShapeShifter and the people who orbit them. The possibilities of what can happen are endless, and I have yet to get tired of exploring, creating, and dreaming. Not to mention writing it all down and sharing it with you here.

Have fun exploring all these links to old posts. If you're not already a proud West of Mars groupie, hopefully I'll turn you into one. If you are already a groupie, stay tuned. New stuff is on the way.

BTT: Trends

2008-06-05T17:15:00.003-04:00

After a few weeks off with nothing to say about the question, Booking Through Thursday and I are back together.

Have your book-tastes changed over the years? More fiction? Less? Books that are darker and more serious? Lighter and more frivolous? Challenging? Easy? How-to books over novels? Mysteries over Romance?

Of course they've changed. I've changed.

Beyond that simple answer, though, is a bigger one: the Internet and, more specifically, online book trading and BookCrossing.

I've always had a hard time finding people who read the same stuff I do. Pittsburgh just scored very low on the scale of people who aren't sheep (or lemmings, take your pick), and so often, the people around me who read tend to pick up the latest Oprah book, or the latest Mary Higgins Clark or John Grisham... you get the point. The best sellers.

Once I began finding online book communities -- and am now building one of my own -- I'm finding myself exposed to so many genres, authors, books, and all the rest that it's mind-boggling. I mean, hey. The wishlist I maintain here at home has over 1400 books on it, and I've got a good thousand more to enter from my pre-online days. (mostly of the higher-brow variety, which is one reason I'm not super hard on the trail of those books)

It's refreshing to be involved with more than the literary set I was surrounded by during my grad school years. I like commercial fiction and have never made apologies about it. It's what I write.

And with the book trading sites and with the friends I've made with whom I pass books back and forth, I'm finding that I'm more open to new ideas, plots, genres, what have you.

Well, so long as it's fiction. Fiction has always been my true love; it's just the way I'm wired.

Thursday Thirteen #Awarded Dreaming

2008-06-04T18:15:00.000-04:00

The most excellent Alice Audrey awarded me the I Love You This Much award -- for Roadie Poet! He's got a groupie! (and yes, Trevor's jealous. After all, RP is crew. Trevor's band. We all know how much cooler it is to be band.)

I'm touched and flattered. And encouraged; I've been in a funk lately. I'm expecting a discussion about the Trevor man and it's been two months and I'm still waiting and going nuts as I wait. I hate to wait, but the reality is that sometimes, the best things in life are the ones that are the hardest to get. And I'm putting the time to best advantage -- I hope -- by working on another full-length work that I know you guys will dig, and then some.

At the same time, I'm MONTHS overdue in acknowledging this one:
... E is for Excellent!

Gwen, She Writes Poetry, and Marcia all think I'm pretty excellent.

I think you guys are, too.

SO. Ready for Thirteen things?

Thirteen Awards we all dream of winning. C'mon. Admit it. You do.

1. The Stanley Cup.
Okay, so it's on my mind. Go figure. Sue me. Whatever; just help root the Penguins on to an improbable victory. And no, their winning isn't the same as MY winning. *I* want to win it and hold it and hoist it over my head... Did you know I am a certified coach and that I used to play ice hockey? It was the last Stanley Cup craze in Pittsburgh that encouraged me to learn all that.

2. An Oscar. What can I say? Maybe I'm shallow, but I'd love to walk the red carpet and watch my band win. Yes, for a movie version of Trevor. Or something else I've created. I'm not terribly picky.

3. An Emmy. ShapeShifter hits your TV. Could be fun.

4. A Grammy. For writing the music behind ShapeShifter. Nevermind that I'm about as musical as a door, I've got a really good ear for what's hot and what'll be popular. Or so I learned during my years as a college radio DJ.

5. A Tony Award. Yep, for writing a musical.

6. The Nobel Prize. Not because I want to write heavy literature that changes the world (quite the contrary; I want to entertain the world), but because it's awarded for an entire body of work, and to win it, you have to get an entire body of work published. No small feat in today's day and age.

7. Best new writer. From anyone. From everyone. 'Cause, you know, it'll mean there's a book in your hands.

8. Community service awards. I have plans in mind. My good friend Bridget and I will be working on them over the summer. Stay tuned.

9. Induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Hey, why not? If there are songwriters in there (Lieber and Stoller come immediately to mind), there can be novelists, too. (What? You don't know who Lieber and Stoller are? Google them as you sing "Hound Dog," okay?)

10. How about an MTV Music Award? Or an American Music Award? Yeah, so what if they don't mean what they meant back in the late eighties, I still dreamed of winning them for something I'd written. Like that makes sense, I know. Music awards for writing. But this is me. I like breaking rules.

11. Maybe I'll start a new award. The Trevor Award. I'll be the first person to get it, and I'll give it to people who are rebels like me and Trev... hmmm.... that's not a bad idea...

12. Every blog award that's out there. Not because I'm greedy so much as because it's how I know you guys love what I do.

13. A published novel that you can buy in any bookstore and that gets reviewed in all sorts of great places. To nothing but praise, of course. What other reward could there be in life beyond the gratification of sharing your vision with the world? All that comes before in this list pales next to that.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

...and the winners are!

2008-06-03T10:28:00.003-04:00

Well, come ON. I've been a Penguin season ticket holder since before I had kids (and sat through a multiple overtime game while six months pregnant, too -- although we didn't stay until the end). How can I NOT gush about my Penguins this morning? I need to give props to the Red Wings, too. It wouldn't have been the amazing game it was if they hadn't played so bloody well.

Oops. Sorry. I know, that was Ryan Malone playing with bloody cotton sticking out of his freshly (in the second period) re-broken nose. His nose will look like Trevor's before too long if he keeps this up...

While we're talking hockey, my thoughts turn to Nova Scotia, where Sidney Crosby's from. And so is the winner of my excerpt collection. Yes, Julia, you pulled it out, too. I'll contact you for your address and get these out to you. I know you'll like them.

I'm going to leave you with that for now. I'm beat after last night, which makes me wonder how the players feel this morning...

Giving you... some excerpts

2008-06-03T01:12:00.000-04:00

As I make my way through the stack of goodies I brought home from the Romantic Times Conference, I'm starting to share things with you.

Today, it's a collection of excerpts from Wicked Writers Shayla Black, Shelley Bradley, Charlene Teglia, Cathryn Fox, Mackenzie McKade, Sylvia Day, SJ Day, and Sasha White. Many of these women you'll find roaming the blogosphere; just like I always say over at Win-a-Book (been there lately??), check their sites and blogs out. You never know what you'll find.

The second collection is an excerpt from the about-to-be-released novel, The Accidental Demon Slayer, by Angie Fox. This book is getting a lot of press, so I'm giving you a quick peek at the start of what looks like a lot of mayhem.

While the Wicked Excerpts is largely non-sexual, I'd like to restrict the winner to being over 18, just to be safe. It's pretty suggestive (and full of cool-sounding stuff). So... make sure that in the comments, you certify that you're 18. I'm gonna hold you to your claims (and investigate if necessary).

Like usual, if you'd like these two little excerpts, leave a comment here, with contact information and, if you're not a regular, a statement that you are, under penalty of law, over 18. The idea here is to share some neat fiction, not to get me the publicity for being arrested for distributing sexual material to minors. Although the publicity might not be so bad...

I'll close comments next Tuesday, June 3, and pick a winner then.

Susan's Book Talk: Book Binge!

2008-06-01T16:17:00.003-04:00

I decided that joining the Book Binge challenge was something I could easily accomplish. Despite the fact that school is letting out and the Penguins are in the Stanley Cup Finals (for how much longer, no one knows and I really fear for Game 6, but that's how life is. I loved my Pens when they sucked. I love them if they don't win the series.), I read like a demon.

Here's the list:

The Long Lavender Look -- John D. MacDonald
Nine Princes in Amber -- Roger Zelazny
Master -- Colette Gale (read my review at Front Street Reviews!)
H -- Elizabeth Shephard
The Rabbi's Cat 2 -- Joann Sfar (read my review at Front Street Reviews!)
Little Vampire Does Kung Fu -- Joann Sfar
Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress -- Dai Sijie
Rashi's Daughters II: Miriam -- Maggie Anton
The Island of Dr. Moreau -- HG Wells
Windfall -- Rachel Caine
Leave a Message for Willie -- Marcia Muller

Wow. Eleven books. Pretty good, but I'd been hoping to finish a certain ARC of a certain upcoming release of a certain series I love so much, I can hardly wait to sit down, crawl inside, and read some more of. Stay tuned for more about that, but it's possible that I like this place more than my own creation right now (probably because it's not my creation. You know how that goes).

Only one of these books disappointed me, and I'll have more about that later on. The rest I really dug, especially Little Vampire, which both my kids attached themselves to. The book says it's for kids 10 and over. My kids aren't ten. That hasn't stopped them yet.

Three of these books are still here in the house (H, Dr. Moreau, and Willie). If you'd like to read one of them, give a yell and I'll share my copy with you. Yes, they're all registered at BookCrossing. Why? Because it's fun to see where a book I've read ends up (and for how long, which is something I'm terribly guilty of).

Now, I must leave and go finish up that ARC 'cause I'm also in the middle of a cool mystery I'll tell you about when I finish it. And there's a lot of buzz right now about the way cool Toni McGee Causey, whose new book, Bobbie Faye's (Kinda, Sorta, Not Exactly) Family Jewels, has me excited to pick up the first in the series as my next read... I've got a copy to share, too, so stay tuned.

Other new releases on my radar:
Fox's Bride, by my bud Amy Ruttan.
A new Ellora's Cave release from Anna J. Evans
One Too Many by Marie-Nicole Ryan
Reilly's Promise by Christyne Butler

Maybe I ought to quit this writing gig and do nothing but read all day. And ride my bike, but that part's a given...

Pam Fiction: A Body Like Mine

2008-05-30T20:52:00.002-04:00

So Molly and I are out shopping and all when this girl comes up to me and asks if I work out at that chain gym. The thirty-minute workout place.

"No," I tell her.

"Oh," the girl says. She tells me that she's just started going there and she wants to look like me in a few weeks. That's what they promised.

I look the girl over. She's not fat, but she's soft. And round. Okay, maybe she's fat, but not a tub. But no way, no how is she going to look like me in a few weeks, no matter who promised.

I take a minute and explain I'm an exercise instructor and I've got my certifications and I go to advanced learning and I'm on the cutting edge of exercise. That's why I look like this and yes, I'm proud of it.

The girl says okay and that she hopes the thirty-minute place will make her look like that, too, even though I pretty much just told her that it won't.

Which means, I tell Molly when the girl goes, we've got to go check out these thirty-minute places and see exactly what they're selling.

So we do. We go in and the girl at the front desk -- who looks good but not great, like the place has paid off for her but she's not on my level. No way, no how -- asks if we usually come at a different time because we don't look familiar.

I explain to her that I'm an instructor at a few gyms in the area.

"Oh!" she says all perky, but then she gets all sad. "Sorry, but we're not hiring."

I try again. I tell her I've been hearing good things about this place and I'd like to see what it's like.

"Oh!" she says, all excited like she was a second ago. "You'll want to talk to our membership services!"

I explain again. I just want to talk to a fitness professional. You know: pro to pro.

That confuses her. I try to explain it again, but Molly jumps in. "Can you get whoever's in charge?"

So I get to talk to this Traci chick, who shows me what's going on. Omigod, I can't believe some people say this is exercise. All this weight equipment in a circle, and women moving their way around the circle. But they're not working, not the way the women in my classes work. They're going fast, which Traci tells me is the way to make it harder. But for people who are working harder, most of them don't have red faces. A lot of them are sweating, but there's more than a few who're chattering away like this is some coffee shop they're in. If my students did this, I'd ask if this was a social club or a workout. They'd say workout and wait for a break. But here, there's these women laughing and barely touching their machines for anything but balance. It's sad. I can see a few who are trying hard to focus and a few more who are in their zone, but the talkers, they're messing the whole place up. You'd think someone would ask them to get off the equipment while they talk. I do, when I go lift at any of my gyms.

When we leave, Molly asks me what I think of the place. I tell her the truth: it's great for people who've never worked out before and who need to get started. Or for people who want to pretend they're working out.

Molly says it takes all kinds, and she's right. I'll take the kinds who show up to sweat, the ones who put passion into their workouts. The ones who know that getting a body like mine means diet and hard exercise. That's how you get a body like mine.

When those talkers are ready to figure that out, I'll be at my gyms, teaching my classes. Just like always. After all, once you've got a body like this, you need to take care of it, right?

Ahh, Pam's quite the character, isn't she? A lot ditzy, not terribly smart and definitely full of herself. That's probably why she's not here more often. If you'd like to catch up on her past adventures as a ShapeShifter groupie, click here. That'll take you back to her character sketch page, and will link you from there to the fiction that's been posted here in the past.

Thursday Thirteen #Looking to Summer

2008-05-28T21:50:00.000-04:00

Thirteen Things ShapeShifter does on tour
One more week of school in the West of Mars school district. My thoughts have turned to summer (even though it's so cold I'm wearing a warm-up jacket. Hello? May? Where are you?). Last year around this time, I took a look at what the band does while on tour.

This year, they're taking a break from the extensive tour and appreciating the season. You can probably figure out who does what by now, but if not, it's still a good list. I'll be doing some of these, myself.

1. Playing or hanging at day-long music festivals.

2. Hanging in the hammock out back and playing guitar.

3. Sleeping late.

4. Back porches after sundown with a cold beer. And a cigarette.

5. Hanging at Daniel's pool. Yes, Mabel the Fifteenth tried to go swimming. Why do you ask?

6. Fighting over who gets to do the honors in front of the grill.

7. Going to Big Buck's and sitting outside on the patio, where it's cooler and
there's always a breeze off the river.

8. Girls in scanty clothing. Or, better yet, bikinis.

9. Wearing nothing but cut-off shorts, yourself.

10. Laying in that hammock without a guitar and dreaming.

11. The steamy heat of a club, whether you're playing or hanging.

12. Blasting your own music out your car windows as you tool around town, feeling cooler than you probably are.

13. Val's lemonade. Nothing better on a hot day.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Roadie Poet: Returns

2008-05-26T11:08:00.001-04:00

Don't realize it until we get inside.
Been here before.

Recognize the loading dock,
The room the crew showers in,
The way things look from the stage.
Out into darkness --
For now.

It'll get lit up later.

Hambone remembers this place, too.
We talk at dinner.
Bands we've been here with
Tours we've done
Crew we went with.

More sits and listens.
Tells me later
She can't wait until she's got these lists to make
When she's been around more.

I gotta tell her
Coming back to a familiar place
It feels good
But not as good
As home.

I'm not sure about this ending. Might be too cliched, so let me know what you think.

If you're new to Roadie Poet, welcome! If you've missed him, or want to revisit old poetry from our favorite crew member, click here. That'll take you to his profile page. All his poems are listed at the bottom of the page. Happy catching up!

Susan's Book Talk: Adventures from the Past week

2008-05-24T14:20:00.000-04:00

It seems like every week, I'm reading about newly released books. Remember, folks, it's good to buy a book as soon as it comes out. Don't be like me and drag your feet; those early sales numbers can (unfortunately) make or break a career.

Let's start with Daisy Dexter Dobbs. She had a new release over at Ellora's Cave -- and it's a big one! 120,000 words. Yipes, that's big. Given Daisy's track record, though, I'm sure it's good.

My good friend Amy Ruttan and her good friend Karen Erickson both have new books out, too. They are kicking off the new Ellora's Cave series, Oh Yum! Older women, younger men... sounds like fun.

Karen's new to me, but both she and Amy blog separately and with groups. Go check 'em out. Tell 'em I sent you. If they have excerpts up (like Daisy does), take the few minutes and read them. One thing I've learned lately is how useful excerpts really are.

In my own reading news, I caught up on a classic! This is monumental news because I generally loathe classics. So what did I read? The Island of Dr. Moreau, by HG Wells. I'll tell you now, I don't loathe science fiction classics.

Stay tuned for the outtakes spawned by Thursday's Thirteen (if you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out). And the winner of the Rabbi's Cat 2. Better enter soon if you want it!

Giving You... The Rabbi's Cat 2

2008-05-24T11:37:00.003-04:00

Edited to congratulate my friend Grace -- yes, Grace in Dubai -- for winning this awesome book! Yay, Grace!

Yes, that's right! You've heard me raving about Joann Sfar's brilliance long enough. Now is your chance to pick up your very own copy of The Rabbi's Cat 2, compliments of the good people at Pantheon Books.

This hardback book hasn't even been opened yet; you'll get to do the honors. (That means I haven't registered it at BookCrossing, either.)

How to enter:
Go visit my review at Front Street Reviews.

Leave a comment on this post with some sort of contact information between now and 24 May, 2008. Please be sure to tell me why you'd like to experience Joann Sfar and his famous cat. Random "Enter me!" comments aren't good enough anymore.

You can be anywhere on Planet Earth. You can have won before. Please don't sell it on eBay; if I think you have done so, I'll toss any future contest entries you make.

Yeah, I'm getting mean. But a book this special deserves special treatment.

Susan's TV Talk: Criminal Minds

2008-05-22T10:41:00.003-04:00

"Well, that blows."

Yes, friends, that's what I said to the Tour Manager at the conclusion of last night's season finale.

Ideas who was in that exploding black truck? I'd love to discuss it in the comments, so comment away and let's speculate ourselves silly!

Thursday Thirteen with Good Intentions

2008-05-21T16:36:00.005-04:00

Thirteen Good Intentions Gone Bad
What's the saying? The Road to Hell is paved with good intentions?

1. The time the video director pitched an idea that had the ShapeShifter boys dancing. DANCING.

2. The time Kerri went to pick up a package at the post office, only to find it had come $3.50 postage due because it had been wrapped wrong and she only had $2 on her. She refused the package, which had been one of those nice gestures on the part of someone else -- but not for $3.50.

3. The time the band found a key lime pie in their dressing room. It wasn't on their contracted tour rider; the promoter had thought it was a nice touch and got whiny when the band asked him to remove it. It didn't touch him nearly so nicely when Mitchell made him wear it.

4. The sound engineer in the recording studio who forgot to push PLAY.

5. From time to time, Kerri meets someone who expected Kerry Voss, male artist, and not Kerri Voss, female.

6. The time Eric was offered an endorsement deal for a new guitar -- but only if he'd never play his current ones again.

7. The new employee of the record label who had heard that Mitchell would be mean to her, so instead of asking him for lyrics for the new disc's booklet, she did her best to interpret what she heard.

8. The time Kerri was asked to create the art for an event whose cancellation no one told her about.

9. The time the band opened a box of new t-shirts, only to find that the silver ink was red, the shirt itself was orange, and the whole thing looked like bloody puke.

10. Let's not forget the newspaper reporter who tried to write a flattering article but confused ShapeShifter with … well, they're still trying to figure that one out. But according to this person, who may or may not have ever heard the band, ShapeShifter is Satanic. Glad someone forgot to inform the band of that…

11. A local crew member, coming up to Trevor from behind, thought he was a woman. In that person's defense, his hair was waist-length at the time and, from the back, he could be confused with a woman hippie… who wears biker boots and a chain connecting the wallet in his back pocket to a belt loop. And… well, you get the idea.

12. Someone filling in for Mitchell's tech once strung Mabel upside-down. It may have been a joke, but the joke was on him when Mitchell broke Mabel over the guy's back.

13. Often, at a backstage appearance, a guy will pull a CD (in the old days, a cassette tape -- remember those?) out of a pocket and ask Daniel to listen to his demo. Daniel's always willing -- but once, the guy had given him a ShapeShifter disc, and no contact information so Daniel could make the swap.

Hey, groupies! Other than #2, which just happened to me in real life today, would you like to see any of these turned into outtakes? Given time and interest, I just might do it for you. 'cause I love you guys and all.

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Susan's Author Spotlight: Sylvie Simmons

2008-05-19T16:37:00.005-04:00

You might have missed this -- and I hope you have -- but I've been whining to myself lately that I'm not doing enough to spread the word about my fellow writers. At the RT Convention, I'd come up with this idea to do an author spotlight, but I wasn't really sure how to implement it. My friends and I launched a cool contest blog, but it's not enough. I want to do more for the great writers out there.

So I owe a big chunk of credit to my friend Bridget, who's not a blogger but who is part of my at-home road crew. She keeps me sane, listens to me vent, makes me feel guilty for skipping the gym, and drops her kid at my house so she can shop in peace while I get uninterrupted writing time. She also took my idea of an author spotlight and gave me ideas how to make it work.

That left me with the dilemma of who to choose. Ugh, the possibilities. I couldn't choose, couldn't figure out a way TO choose.

Until about ten minutes ago. I was sitting on the couch, catching up on the Metallica Club's latest edition of their magazine, So What! I'd like this mag even if their editor, who's a cool dude with the cool name of Steffan, hadn't let me write a few pieces for it. I mean, hello? Metallica, people! Susan loves Metallica.

The main feature in this issue is an interview by renowned rock writer (Steffan's words, not mine) Sylvie Simmons. I've been working through the interview slowly, wishing I had an uninterrupted chunk of time to devote to it. Every time I scrape out a few minutes, I envision myself signing into the Metallica Club's bulletin boards and asking, "Am I the only one more jazzed about the fact that Sylvie Simmons did the interview than I am by the subject?"

I probably am.

Heck, *I'd* never heard of Sylvie Simmons until I heard about her 2004 collection of stories, Too Weird for Ziggy. It was one of those books I had to have. Right then. So I ran out and ordered it for myself. Yes, from a bookstore. (Those of you who know me well know what an avid book trader I am.) Yes, from an independent book store, which is another thing that's important to me.

I'm not a fan of stories, but Sylvie Simmons totally rocked them. She created characters -- some of whom make more than one appearance in this book -- who are darker, more depraved, more sick, more gross, more grotesque than mine. In short, they are rock and roll at its essence. I write rock-lite in comparison. (And no, Trevor's not insulted by that. Nor, for that matter, am I.)

The lead-off story, Pussy, has stayed with me all this time. It's haunting.

At one point, I tracked down Ms. Simmons and asked if there was more fiction in the works. There wasn't. Not at that moment, anyway. But she had a story in a collection called London Noir...

Which is now sitting on my Mountain of To Be Reads, otherwise known as Mt. TBR. (also known as my small book problem.) It's number 315 of 349, so it'll be awhile.

But in the meantime, go check out Too Weird for Ziggy. You'll quickly see why Sylvie Simmons deserves more attention and why I'm taking up a beautiful afternoon to rave about her. She's one of those writers who I ought to be focusing on.

And so, I am. Maybe one of these days, I'll finish up that magazine...