Archive for March, 2015|Monthly archive page

Can We Please Just Call It What It Is?

Monday, March 30th, 2015

One of the things I miss about childhood is a naïve belief that adults are inherently good, that they’re only interested in doing the right thing whenever possible, and that our elected officials actually have our best interests at heart. Do you remember when we used to believe that? Those were good times, innocent times, because we didn’t know any better. Then we hit puberty and wanted to know more about how the world worked so we could have sex. That kind of ruined it for us. Well, that and figuring out the world is full of adults who resemble many of the peers we grew up with who were assholes.

Those Wily Little Chinese Vulcans

Thursday, March 26th, 2015

I’ve made several comments over the years—and even last Monday—referring to my husband and little brother as being Chinese Vulcans. I do this because…well, it’s true. They are the logical intellectuals, are finicky, don’t often display emotions, are mildly annoyed when white people do, are seriously annoyed when proven wrong by their own methodologies, only mate properly once every seven years, and are endlessly amazed their husbands can remember to breathe on their own without being reminded. Above all else, though, they make me laugh.

When Things Start To Build Up On You

Monday, March 23rd, 2015

Some weeks are better than others. Last week wasn’t one of them. I think it was a combination of everything building up from three months of taking on too much and not giving myself a break. My thought process behind not giving myself a break is that if my mother can handle all the stress she has, especially with dad, then I should be able to handle everything thrown at me. It seemed like a sound strategy, but I was mistaken. Sorely mistaken. I noticed there was an issue last week when it felt like somebody was pushing on my front, somebody on my back, and then someone had me in an icy grip.

Figuring Out Where It All Goes

Thursday, March 19th, 2015

Tax season is the one time my husband doesn’t seem to mind how little I make in royalties. Why? Because now that we can file jointly, it’s like he’s being acknowledged by the world—or at least the United States government—that he is supporting me. I think it makes him feel a little better knowing someone else sees it his way, too. It also doesn’t hurt that he now gets money back because of me instead of owing. That’s actually the source of his good mood during tax season. It’s been in filing jointly now that we’ve really taken a close look at what protections we do and don’t have in place for each other, though. It’s not pretty.

One Person’s Perception Is Another Author’s Folly

Monday, March 16th, 2015

Perception is a fickle thing. I perceive a great many bad movies from the 1980s as being very good, yet others have the exact opposite reaction. I perceive my husband’s Grandmonster to be the source of much evil in the world, only he loves her. Readers perceive authors as all getting along, yet we don’t. We perceive ourselves as likeable, and then someone comes forward and informs us we aren’t. I try to be and I know my fellow authors try to be, too, but we aren’t going to be able to please every perception out there and that can be a tough lesson to learn. Heck, I was unfriended on Facebook a couple of weeks ago by someone for using two words. Yes. Two words.

Dear Author, Here’s What You Need To Do To Please Us…

Thursday, March 12th, 2015

Two author friends received an e-mail this past week from a reader who explained to them that their sales were down because their latest novels dealt with ‘depressing’ subjects. One story referenced WWII and the other having to do with health care. Obviously, the polite thing we’re taught to do is, if we respond at all, thank the reader for their feedback and say we hope they’ll like the next one better. That’s the PC way of us saying “We’ll think about it.” Ironically, the RWA (Romance Writers of America) took some heat this week for suggesting how authors should act in order to please readers and continue to sell books, too. I know, one was about writing and the other about interaction, so are they connected. Actually, yes.

Buying A Book Based On Its Title, Not Its Cover

Monday, March 9th, 2015

I remember my father taking me to see a horror comedy back in 1986 titled House. It was a fun little film, only we arrived at the theater and dad remarked “What’s next? A movie called Doorknob?” Okay, snarky as it may have been, he may have had a point. The same might be said about books. As a reader, I notice titles and a title will interest me if I don’t know who the author is. As a writer, I task myself with coming up with a title that will hopefully make someone look twice.

Who Needs Wikipedia When I Have Grandmapedia?

Thursday, March 5th, 2015

There’s a stereotype about grandmothers we’re fed from a very early age. You know the one I mean, right? Older women with tightly bunned hair, granny glasses, likes to bake a lot and coo over the grandchildren while spoiling them, yet also doling out wisdom that’ll mean something significant later on in life? Yeah, that one. And I have to admit it makes for a pretty picture. It just isn’t realistic. My own grandmother surprises me not just because she can bake like nobody’s business, but because she’s a walking social knowledge base and I would LOVE to create an app based on her. I’d call it Grandmapedia.

Leonard Nimoy: The Part Of Him That Belonged To Us

Monday, March 2nd, 2015

Actor Leonard Nimoy was laid to rest yesterday. I guess that’s the thing with living legends; they eventually really do pass away. Someone, I don’t remember who, stated it best online, the gist of it being “every science fiction geek’s favorite grandfather passed away”. That may, on the surface, seem like an odd thing to say, yet there is truth to it. Leonard Nimoy was a husband, a father, a son, a brother, a grandfather, an actor, a friend, a director, an author, a photographer, and an icon. His personal life was his own, but his public life was there for us. He accepted that as much as he belonged to his family, part of him belonged to us, too.