Using Description

Just a little post for those interested in writing techniques.
I love a good descriptive passage in a book, but they're hard to write. Some are too long and lose the reader's concentration. Some are too short and leave the reader unsatisfied. Some of my favorite writers are character writers who give concise descriptions.
Agatha Christie gave us a pompous, curious, intelligent little detective with a ridiculous mustache and a soft heart. Hercule Poirot is a complete character, his picture springing to mind thanks to details that Ms. Christie was careful to give us in small doses. His shiny shoes, his pursed lips, his flicking dust off his coat all give us the image of someone fastidious.

And some writers use adjectives like paint, making deep, vibrant, and rich passages:

"It was raining when Rahel came back to Ayemenem. Slanting silver ropes slammed into loose earth, plowing it up like gunfire. The old house on the hill wore its steep, gabled roof pulled over its ears like a low hat. The walls, streaked with moss, had grown soft, and bulged a little with dampness that seeped up from the ground. The wild, overgrown garden was full of the whisper and scurry of small lives. In the undergrowth a rat snake rubbed itself against a glistening stone. Hopeful yellow bullfrogs cruised the scummy pond for mates. A drenched mongoose flashed across the leaf-strewn driveway. " (Excerpt from 'The God of Small Things' by Arundhati Roy)

And yet, you can overload on details. Description is hard to get just right. Even now my editor sometimes circles things with a red pen and says, 'unnecessary!' So I cut it out. It's easy to get carried away with description. Often, a few well chosen words can say more than a whole page of description. It's easy to get bogged down. Here is a passage from a book I'm working on. It's a fantasy, and has an enchanted unicorn in it. A young man is trying to catch the unicorn. He's never seen one before.

First, I set the scene:

The first sign of the unicorn glade were tiny, pale green ferns curled like baby fists in the shelter of ledge and root. Snow sifted through the branches, but it didn’t reach the ground. Instead, it turned to small droplets of water. Underfoot, the frozen ground suddenly thawed and became mossy. As Sylvain advanced, he spotted bare branches sprouting green leaves. Soon, overhead, there was a canopy of dappled greenery and sunlight.

Then I show the hero and what he's feeling:

A balmy breeze tickled Sylvain’s nose and his horse arched its neck and whickered. In a patch of sunlight, water sparkled. Something moved, reminding Sylvain of a white curtain blowing suddenly in the breeze on a hot, summer day. He was a small boy again, sitting in his room early in the morning, with no worries, his only thoughts about what he would do that day; pick blackberries, wade in the stream, catch butterflies in his new net. For a second the world seemed to tremble, poised upon the knife-blade of his memories. He glimpsed the quick movement again, but he was too slow to catch it. He heard no sound, but scented a faint whiff of lily of the valley. He dismounted, looping the reins over his arm. The air grew warmer. “Leonie?” he called softly. “Are you there?”

Then I describe what Sylvain sees:

The unicorn stepped out from behind a pine tree. Each step was as light as a falling feather. For a moment Sylvain felt blinded, dazzled, and he could not take in the whole creature at once. Instead he saw her in flashes; a tall, spiraled horn the color of sea-foam, shy eyes that darkened or grew pale as she turned her narrow head, a mane and tail as fine as silk floss, a coat like frosted white velvet, and strong, nervous legs. A unicorn. He hardly dared draw a breath.
“Why are you here?” The words sounded in his mind. Her voice. Leonie’s voice.
The unicorn only stared at him with eyes as deep as the ocean.

Maybe five or six sentences each time. All of it description, but about different things.
The setting, the character's feelings, and the unicorn.

I've been reading chapters from the slush pile this weekend, and one thing that jumps out at me is when the author uses too much description or when description is unnecessary. One went as far as to name the make of the car (in parenthesis) in the middle of a chase scene. If you're writing a tense chase scene, don't break off to tell what kind of car the hero is driving. Or the color. Instead, see the scene from the hero's eyes. Feel it with his whole body. Is the steering wheel vibrating with speed? Is the engine screaming? Does he catch a whiff of burnt rubber as he slams on the brakes, his seatbelt digging into his chest? Probably all of the above. But don't write - 'He stepped on the gas and his car (a light blue 1986 Thunderbird) took off with a roar.'
Don't write, 'Jessica Olander thought that the whole things was just silly. She tossed her silky blond hair out of her eyes and peered at the map with a sea-green gaze.' If you're in the characters POV (point of view) she's not going to think her own hair is silky or her is gaze sea- green. Don't describe the character whose POV you're in. (Unless the character is staring in a mirror, but mostly that device is over-used, or if you do use it, make it intrinsic to the story.) Both mistakes (but not exactly the ones above) were in one of the submissions I read yesterday, and although I thought the idea was terrific, the writing told me that the author needed to work on his craft a little more. Working on description is important. It's a small effort to make, but well worth it.

Bee Afraid.

I've been reading about disappearing bees lately, and it worries me.
I found this online after reading an article in the New York Times.
(part of an interview - to read the rest go here:
http://www.earthfiles.com/news/news.cfm?ID=1214&category=Environment )

WHAT HAPPENS IF ALL THE HONEY BEES DISAPPEAR?

First of all, a third of the food supply in the United States – and actually the world – a third of the food supply is directly related to the honey bee: fruits, vegetables, nuts, just a lot\ of stuff that we eat, that we’re accustomed to have every day, the honey bee is directly responsible for it. And then, there is probably another 30% of what we consume that honey bees are indirectly responsible for. Take the milk we drink. The cows have to have hay. They’ve got to eat clover and alfalfa to produce milk. And if you go back and listen to what (Albert) Einstein told us – he said if the honey bees disappeared off the face of the Earth, within four years, all life would be gone. Even the wildlife depends on plants pollinated by the honey bees for berries and so on. So, it’s not just humans not being able to get apples and carrots. We’re talking about a real big, serious problem!

WHEN YOU TALKED WITH THE PEOPLE IN THE GOVERNMENT AND THEY SAID THE HONEY BEES WERE LIKE A CANARY DOWN IN THE COAL MINE WARNING THAT IF THE BIRD DIED, THEN THE MINERS MIGHT DIE – WHAT DID THE GOVERNMENT PEOPLE SAY THAT THEY THOUGHT MIGHT BE THE PROBLEM?

They really don’t know. That was in the preliminary stages, but that’s the first time in my 40 some years of beekeeping that anybody had ever said that to me. I mean that was something I’d never heard before.

WHAT YOU MEAN IS THAT OUR ENTIRE FOOD SUPPLY, NOT ONLY IN THIS COUNTRY, BUT ALSO IN OTHER PARTS OF THE WORLD, COULD BE THREATENED AS THE HONEY BEES AND OTHER BEES ARE THREATENED BY WHATEVER IS KILLING THEM?

Yes, that’s exactly right.

Chasing Auguste

The weather report said rain all day, so at 8:30 am, when the sky was still clear blue, I put the dogs on their leashes and headed out for a long walk. When we got to the fields on the top of the ridge, I took the leashes off and let them run. Rusty, who never much liked running, stayed nearby and snuffled in the hedges and grass. Auguste took off in huge, delighted circles, staying always in sight, but as far away as he could without actually disappearing. We walked through the stone fields, crossed a stream in the bottom of a narrow ravine, and then headed across the big fields towards the back road to the village. We were alone. Auguste runs like a dachshund -with ears flying and butt bouncing because of his ridiculously short legs. He bounced up the path, then startled a meadow lark. Auguste loves to chase birds. It's absurd and futile, but he works himself into a frenzy over birds. The lark darted off to the side and Auguste launched himself off the slightly raised path and into a ploughed field. He landed in the mud and was stuck for a few moments, then managed to thrash over to a field of winter wheat and he was off - away, running with his ears flying and his tail whirling and his barks getting fainter as he headed over the rise.
"Auguste!" I cried, and of course started running across the field after him. "Auguste you silly dog, come back here! Leave the birds alone! You're supposed to hunt badgers! Come back here, you mustached wiener!" As I ran across the field, now sloping down so I was going quite fast, my yellow boots flashing in the morning sun, I vaguely noted we were approaching the dairy farm. I caught up with Auguste, still yelling things about birds, badgers, and wieners, (in French, of course - I would pick today to scream at my dog in French.) and put his leash on. And looked up.
The farmer, his son, and his two grandsons were standing in the doorway staring at me.
I straightened up, tried for a dignified expression, and waved. "Bonjour," I said.
A throat cleared. The two boys huddled to their grand dad, their eyes round. The father's mouth twitched, and he gave a half a nod.
I tromped out of their field, onto the road, and noted that I was covered in mud, Auguste was covered in mud, and Rusty was still about a hundred yards behind us, trotting in her loopy, floppy style, her tail wagging, her mouth open like she was laughing at me.
I waited up for her, put her leash on, and went back home where I hosed myself and the dogs off before going inside. (Why do dogs always wait until they are inside the house before shaking off?)
My husband says not to worry - the villagers already think I'm eccentric. I can just imagine what the dairy farmer and his family think now, after watching me fly down their hill after Auguste, calling him a mustached wiener.

Both Sides Now

I've been busy reading submissions.

Our new publishing company is developing nicely. We finished drawing up the contract and showed it to a few authors who pronounced it "very reasonable". The website is set up and the shopping cart is in order. We've ordered ISBNs for the books, and our editor is already excited about the books already on her list.
I'm looking for proofreaders now. Anyone interested in proofreading and getting not-yet published books for free can contact me.
:-)
It's funny being on the other side of the submissions process.
Usually I'm the one writing the query letters and submitting chapters. Every time I hit the "send" button and see my submission go, my heart flutters, so I know what the authors feel like when they send me their 'babies'.
Luckily I'm not in acquisitions, but I do read the YA submissions and I can read others if I want, although right now I'm in charge of the YA, fantasy, and science fiction part of the submissions.
Here is what I've learned so far:

You can tell a great deal from just the query letter.

You can't tell very much from the synopsis, and the first three pages are usually enough to go on.

I really, really don't like synopsies that don't tell the ending of the book. It's not a blurb, it's a synopsis. I need to have the whole story!

Out of ten queries:
I've requested the first three chapters for 4 out of the 10 queries I've read.
From these, I've requested 2 fulls.
I sent the 2 other 'first three chapters' to our editor to see if she's willing to work with the author. (One maybe, one no.)
I've rejected 4 out of 10 queries after just reading the synopsis and first three pages.
Out of 10 queries, we have 1 definite yes.
1 out of 10.
2 fulls pending.

This is another thing I've learned. You're not as excited about reading when you 'HAVE' to read. That's why finding a great book is such a thrill.
It's not easy to see the diamond in the rough. That's the hard part.
So far I hope I haven't missed any diamonds.

At any rate, being on this side of the submissions process has made me look at agents, editors, and publishers differently. There is simply no way I can be on the internet all day, no way I can intercept mail all day, and no way I can read all the submissions at once. And you don't want me to! You want me to be relaxed, in a good mood, and in a quiet place before I open your query. Otherwise I can't give it the attention it deserves.
The query was sent with a fluttering heart and has hopes pinned to it, so unless the time is right and I HAVE time, I won't read it, even if it means letting it sit in my files for a week while I get other things out of the way. I want to be able to see the diamonds in the rough, as well as those that already sparkle.
I wonder if all agents, publishers, and editors feel like this?

Rainy day news

I woke up to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. Gusts of wind made the shutters rattle. I grabbed a coffee and worked out with Gilad - my personal trainer.

I should add he's on a DVD and he works out on a beach with a steel drum band. A great way to start the day.

My daughter came down and criticised my style. Then my son came down, took one look at my red, sweaty face, and decided that he had work to do up in his room.

Afterward I took a shower, caught up with e-mails and news, and then took the day off. My daughter and I went out to lunch and went to a movie (Charlotte's Web - very sweet) and then we went shopping. Euro-Dif had a 60% off sale - I got flower-power curtains for my kitchen, a striped tablecloth to match, and my daughter got a tee-shirt and a jean skirt. The kitchen is now Kitch, as my daughter says, with the red, orange, pink and blue flowered curtains (daisies, of course!) and the same colored striped catch-all on the counter.

It is still dark and rainy out, and the curtains make the room look brighter.

Another bright spot is Auguste in his head scarf. My daughter put it on him, and I couldn't resist taking his picture!

Have a Great weekend!

What I miss most in winter

I miss summer nights - sitting in the garden with candles lit, talking with my sister and daughter, feeling the warm air growing cooler, and watching the sky turn electric blue.

The word is scrotum.

The word is scrotum. Not balls, not baby-bean bags, not nut bags, not nuts, not even the pope's figs. But according to the fuss about 'The Higher Power of Lucky', an author writing for children should not use such a word. OK, I can sort of see that if it were a rhyming book aimed at tiny tots. "Jack be nimble, Jack leapt over the totem. Jack misjudged its height and Jack banged his scrotum."
But for kids ages 7 and up, I can't imagine where the problem is, unless the children are raised by Puritan Victorians and tend to faint when confronted with words representing body parts or functions, such as thigh and burp. Librarians have been suggesting boycotting the book. Parents have been up in arms. Letters to the editor have been flooding the publisher.
I think that there is a serious disconnect in reality here.
By the age of 4, most children have witnessed at least two hundred and fifty murders on the television, some of which are in cartoon form. They have witnessed rape and drug abuse, alcoholism and prostitution. (And murders. Let's not forget how blasé TV is about portraying someone getting shot.) As a matter of fact, I don't think you can watch television and not see someone get killed.
So, children can watch murder but they can't read the word scrotum?
Where is reality in this?
What is this teaching kids?
It's teaching them that it's perfectly acceptable to take a gun and run rampage in the streets shooting other people. In fact, they will probably become famous and get a million dollar book deal if they don't shoot themselves first. It teaches them that the gangs are cool, and drive by shooting is all right. Murdering another human being does not raise eyebrows.
But it's teaching them that parts of their own bodies are something to be ashamed about. Fifty percent of the world's population has scrotum. Are they all going to be embarrassed about having scrotum but proud to own a gun, which kills other human beings?
Wouldn't it be nice to live in a world where having a gun is something horribly embarrassing and having scrotum was perfectly normal?
Where, on TV, children can watch shows without a single murder, and maybe hear the word scrotum mentioned a few times. Maybe even the words breast, solar plexis, clavicle, malleolus, and scapula while we're at it.

How to make a Splash at book conferences

Having been to many conferences, I have (from experience) seen with (my own eyes) what makes for a big Splash. So if you want to make a Big Splash (from herein known as BS) you should do as these authors have done:

1) Hassle agents in the bathroom about submissions - slide the darn thing right under the door of their stall if they insist on acting coy.

2) Carry a huge (800 page) manuscript around and beg people to read it. Better still if you can carry two of these around - put them in canvas bags and make sure the pages are all numbered correctly.

3) Make sure your clothes for the conference are eye-catching. Sequins, lots of bare skin, feather boas (all authors walk around with feather boas) and a huge hat and/or jewelry will set you apart.

4) Wear a long neckace with clips and put all your cards and bookmarks on it. Pull them off and hand them to Everyone you meet. Make sure your nametag has flashy lights.

5) When you put your cards and bookmarks on the promo tables, make sure to sweep everyone else's promo shit aside. I mean, Really, the nerve of them.

6) Chase after the male models screaming 'I want your BABY!'

7) Don't forget to tell everyone that Your book is the only good one out there - the rest is just trash.

8) Hang out at the bar & drink cosmos until your see triple, and make sure you flirt with everyone. People go to conferences to flirt.

If you do all these things, I promise that people will be talking about your BS for years to come.

A Book Blog

A Book Blog

2 reviewers give their impressions of books they've read in short blurbs. If you ever wanted to find a good book to read, but didn't know where to go to look, check this blog out. Books galore of every genre!

http://www.reviewers-choice.com/Spinoff/book_blog5.htm

A funny little naked guy

I never really noticed him. He was on the side of an ancient building in a nearby village. He's been up on the wall, playing with himself, for about five centuries now.

There are lots of small details that, when you see them, suddenly cast things in a different light. This old house suddenly becomes mysterious. Why did someone put that carving there? Was he an imp? Something like a gargoyle, meant to keep the evil spirits away? The house becomes fixed in time. It's now the house built in the middle ages. The wood came from trees that grew in the fourteenth century. The man that carved that statue would never believe what sights the statue would see, perched up on the wall overlooking the church square.

Just below him is a bar / cafe, where people sit outside on sunny days and sip their coffee and their beer. To his right is the church, and although it hasn't changed much since it was built, the cars parked around it are nothing like the transportation the woodcarver knew. Airplanes fly overhead.

Will he still be there five hundred years from now? And if so, I wonder what he'll see?

Church in the Evening

Have a wonderful St. Valentine's Day!

Worst query letter bloopers

I've written many, many professional letters. Query letters are the hardest. They are hard to compose, and hard to hone, and hard to get just right. (Is there a perfect query letter?)
There may not be a perfect query letter - but we know that there are lots of imperfect ones.
Like the one I wrote stating...
"I'd like to send my novel for possible repersentation..."
Repersentation? I saw that after I hit the 'send' button, of course.
There are worse mistakes. Over at Miss Snark's blog a writer admitted to mispelling his first name. He said he'd carefully gone over the whole letter a hundred times....and mispelled his first name. (Sincerely yours, Boob)
Once I sent off a query and realized I hadn't put the title of the book anywhere, and another time I cheerfully wrote "Thank you for your kid attention."
Another person (again from Miss Snark's blog) wrote as his opening line: "I am sure you are very busty but hope you will..."
Or this one I sent off just recently: "It was perviously published..."
I would have thought spell check would have caught that one. LOL.

Groovy Tuesday

A Few Questions about my WIP, asked by Lolo and answered here:

What am I working on?
The road to Eternity. It's about a third of the way done, and I'm taking a break here and getting my thoughts together. Sometimes, when I run into a bit of a slow-down, I stop and write a quick blurb to get myself back into the story. Or I think about just the moment I'm trying to capture (like right now, with my hero.) A slow down is when I can see where the story has to go, but I'm not exactly sure how to get it there. Something is missing, and I need to find it. One of my characters is from the sixties - grew up on a commune - & is feeling a bit lost suddenly projected into 2001. Things have changed so quickly since then. He stepped from Woodstock, where he was dying from an overdose of heroin, into a troop of demi gods, nymphs, fauns, and humans, led by Zeus on the road to Eternity. Now Zeus is missing and he's in 2001 - and my character's mission is to find Zeus before the makhais (a bunch of low-life demons) find him and kill him.

How do I research my stories?
I'm a Greek Myth buff - I think (honest) I'm pretty knowledgable about them. My dad & mom gave me a huge book on Greek Myths for my birthday when I was 11, and I still have it. I've read the Illiad and the Odysee (do NOT mind my crappy spelling please. Dyslexics 'R US.) And I have the internet at my fingertips. I alos know a lot about the Nordic pantheon, and there are Nordic gods mixed in here too.
What about Woodstock? Well, I'm listening to Judy Blue Eyes performed by Crosby Stills Nash & Young in Woodstock. If you go onto the internet there is the whole program there, hour by hour, day by day, so I don't have the Who singing in the evening, when they actually started around 3 a.m. and continued until after sunrise. I'm writing a fantasy tale, but what's important are the details. I love mixing fact and fiction, walking that fine line between make-believe and reality. (Sometimes I feel like that's where I live, but that's another story, lol.)

What kind of story is this?
Well, it's probably close to an urban fantasy, and it's one of those 'for all ages' books. (I might push it more YA, come to think of it. But then again, I don't actually write FOR any age group - I'd rather write just for me right now. When the book is finished (probably after spring break if I can get enough writing days in) I'll look at it again and see what group of readers I'm aiming at. Right now I think that if you liked Ariel by Steven R. Boyett (and if you haven't read this book say to you, what are you waiting for?) or Kris Reisz's Tripping to Somewhere, you'll probably get a kick out of the one I'm writing. It's a mixture of myth and reality, a roadtrip theme through time and space...

Does it bother me to have books similar to mine?
Well, yes and no. Yes because we all want to be completely original, fresh, and new - and no, because I think it was Homer who said that all plots in literature had already been taken, and the only difference was the dressing. Was it Homer? Wouldn't he have said the toga? Maybe it was Shakespere.

Are you out of the slow-down yet?
Not quite. I'm jotting down ideas. On the pad next to me are:
??
Clio's Memory
A kidnapping
Loki's Choice
???
The question marks are the part I'm trying to work out.
Good thing I have yoga tonight. I will meditate with tying myself into a pretzel.

Wind and Rain

On top of the hill... The Washing Shed...

This past week has been a mixture of storms and sunny moments. Hailstorms, thunderstorms, windstorms and rainstorms washed upon us. In between there were bright spots of watery sunlight and the dogs ran about and splashed in the mud.

One blustery day we took a walk to the top of the hill and along the fields in the back of the village, then we went to the washing shed in the bottom of the valley to rinse the mud off the dogs and our boots. I can't tell you how muddy the house is - I have two mops, one standing by each door, so that when anyone comes in, I can clean up the footprints!

Since the workers are still doing the roof, the road just outside the house and the walkway to our front door is muddy, and the mess of tiles and boards and scafolding is not a pretty sight! You can see why I'd prefer to go on long walks than look out the window and see this all day!

This weekend I also discovered you can never put too much garlic in a dish. I baked chicken breasts with a massive amount of garlic, some soy sauce, some lemon juice, a dash of worsesteshire sauce (can's spell that lol!) , and about 2 cups of chicken bouillon. Had it over Chinese noodles and green beans. The kids & hubby LOVED it. It's now in my recipe book. Remember - LOTS of garlic.

The scaffolding mess outside. I can't wait 'till it's done!

Happy Birthday Julie!

Happy Birthday to my Sister Julie!!

Julie is my little sister, and no matter how old we get, she'll always be fifteen months younger than me. I miss her SO much. We used to be this close (holds up hand with fingers twisted together.) We always shared a room. When I left home, it was like cutting off part of my body and leaving it behind. (Good thing she liked to travel, and she would come visit me in Europe).
She and I are completely different. She's very serious and I can't do serious unless I'm actually crying about something. She's nice - I'm really not nice. She's got a dimple, and I've always been really jealous of that dimple. She went as far as to give her dimple to her son - really it's the cutest dimple you ever saw. She's also the perfect person. As a child, she never got scolded and never got into trouble. I swear - she had this little halo above her head, and everyone saw it. (It's still there, honest. I bet Lee and Nick see it all the time, right?) She never got into trouble or did anything stupid...except this one time. (Big Grin Here.)

It was the last day of school, the day I graduated highschool, she and I went to a bar downtown and got PLASTERED. We honestly never drank. (I always get sick when I drink, and Julie is, well, serious, lol) But that was a Special day. No more School ever for me EVAH. So we hit Sparkys on the waterfront and ordered screwdrivers until we couldn't see straight. And then we had a problem - how to get home. Without our mom knowing just how PLASTERED we were. After discussing it very...seriously, we decided to ask our gym teacher to give us a lift home. (This is NOT something I'd suggest anyone do, because my gym teacher was celebrating the end of the year, and his fiancé had just dumped him, so he had been in the bar drinking for longer than Julie and I & he was really in bad shape.) But, he agreed to drive us home - whereverthehellthat was.
I ended up shifting for him, and since I was PLASTERED we drove home in Second gear all the way - which was probably the safest thing to do.
"Over there!" Julie yelled, when we saw our road. The gym teacher drove the car to the side of the road and let us out. Then he waved goodbye and drove on. Unfortunately he forgot to turn back to the road so he went into a ditch. It wasn't very deep, and the car stalled, so he just waved out the window and passed out. Julie and I started walking back to the house.
About halfway there, I thought I heard a car coming behind us. "Off the road sister!" I yelled, and shoved her into the grass. And I jumped after her. Unfortunately, it was a very small verge over a rather steep cliff, and we fell down it. About ten feet, I'd say. We landed in a heap. We looked up to the road where there were no cars passing. "Thanks a lot, Jenn," she said.
"Watch that last step!" I joked.
We managed to get back up and stagger to the house. Our back stairs were cement. They went straight then zigged to the right.
Just before we headed down, Julie said to me "Watch that last step!" in a really sarcastic voice. Well, I got going down them, missed the step and the zig to the right, and cracked my chin on the wall. Julie says the reason I don't remember the rest is because I was knocked out, just like a boxer who got an uppercut to the chin. I went down like a ton of...Bricks. I still have the scar on my chin.
She got me to bed and the next day we both had the worst headaches. I had to go to work & was in sheer misery all day long, and I haven't gotten Plastered since the day I graduated high school.
Julie was a good influence on me most of the time. She really did try to talk me out of all the idiotic things I did as a teenager. She was my Jimminy Cricket.
And I'm writing this story for her on her birthday! (It's the only one where she does something stupid - honest, the rest of the time she was PERFECT!)
I LOVE YA SIS!!!

Zee Best Creeps in the World!

My brother called crepes 'creeps', and that's how I always think of them. They're fun to eat, easy to make, and kids love them. (So do grown-ups, lol)

I have several crepe recipes - but this one tops them all.

Andrea's Splendiferous Crepe Recipe!

4 Eggs

2 Cups flour

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 whole lemon or orange rind, grated.

2 soup spoons of mazola oil (corn oil or any veggie oil without a strong taste - no peanut or olive oil, for example)

Enough milk to make the batter velvety. (not too thick, like pancake batter, but not watery either.)

Put eggs, vanilla, rind and milk in mixer, then add slowly flour & oil.

Pan has to be HOT!

A spray oil is handy to make crepes.

I can't tell you haw to cook them, because my husband or son does this. I cannot cook a crepe. t's easy - you pour in a bit of batter and swirl it around so that it covers the bottom of the pan. When the batter starts looking dry in the middle, flip it over. Serve with: (one at a time, lol)

Nutella

Strawberry jam

butter and sugar

Maple syrup

Orange marmelade and Grand Marnier

Sliced bananas

Hot chocolate sauce

Cooked apples and Applejack brandy

Cinnamon and sugar

...

And here is the photo of me at the dinner party last week. I had my mouth full of desert, and of course, that's when the camera pops out and someone yells 'Cheese!'

Dinner was rack of lamb with truffle sauce, eggplant soufflées, porcini mushroom and foie gras terrine, and desert was a tiramisu! (recipe follows)

This, according to the great God of the Internet, is Sophia Lauren's very own Tiramisu recipe.

EGGS, 3 separated
SUGAR, 5 tablespoons
MASCARPONE CHEESE, 6 ounces
LADYFINGERS, 1 large package (approximately 36)
ORANGE LIQUEUR, 1 cup
ESPRESSO COFFEE, 1 cup
BITTER CHOCOLATE, 2 ounces, grated
UNSWEETENED COCOA POWDER, 1/2 cup, or 2 ounces grated bittersweet chocolate
Directions
Combine egg yolks and sugar in a medium-sized bowl and beat well.
In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks.
In a third, larger bowl, combine the egg yolk mixture with the mascarpone, then fold in the egg whites to produce a creamy mixture.
Arrange a tight layer of ladyfingers in a 9-by-12-inch serving dish.
Using a spoon, drizzle about half the liqueur and half the espresso over the ladyfingers.
Cover the ladyfingers with the mascarpone mixture and the grated chocolate, and dust it with a little more than half the cocoa.
Cover the filling with a second layer of ladyfingers and drizzle with the remaining liqueur and espresso.
Place the dish in the refrigerator for at least 12 hours (the Tiramisu can be made 24 hours in advance).
Top with the remaining cocoa before serving.

Bon Apetite!

Rainbows

As I was driving home this evening I saw this beautiful rainbow.

I spent the day in Paris doing marketing research and then I had lunch with 2 American friends. We went to a sushi bar with the little plates going around on a conveyer belt. You sit and grab whatever you fancy. It's quite fun, but it's a good way to eat too much. I never thought I'd be stuffed with sushi, lol.

For tea we had crepes à la Andrea - she gave me the recipe and they are Fabulous. :-) Unfortunately I don't have time to post the recipe right now because I have to go pick up my son at the train station. But I'll post it tomorrow for my 'drool war' with Daisy Dexter Dobbs.

Racism in Publishing

Here is a post from Karen Scott - while reading her blog I discovered something that shocked me - in the US, books are separated by race. Yes, I'm afraid it's ture. Several people said that books in their bookstores (such as Borders) are segregated. Black authors and black characters on something called an AA shelf. Evern romance books are kept apart from 'white' romance books.
I will admit I never noticed this. Mostly because I buy my books from either Amazon or a very small bookstore near my mom's house in NY. I was really shocked when I heard this. My husband was shocked when he heard this. He's French. Does this shock anyone else?
At any rate, here is Karen's post - if anyone can help her out, please do!

Racism In Publishing, How Does It Affect You?

Are you an African American author who’s been published for at least one year? If so Karen Scott wants to hear from you.

She’s conducting a survey based on the racism within the publishing industry, and whether or not it’s as prevalent as some believe. She’s looking for black or African American authors who have been published for at least one year.


She would like to know about your specific experiences within the industry thus far. She wants to know how AA authors feel about the current shelving policies, and niche marketing. She wants to know who you feel is to blame for the problems that you face. She also wants your suggestions on how things can be improved upon.


In all, there are twenty questions in the survey, and all that she asks is that people be as honest as possible. Confidentiality is assured if requested, but for the findings to yield more weight, she would request that she be granted permission to directly quote from the answers given by the authors.


She’s hoping to poll at least 100 AA authors, in an effort to ensure that a fair representation is achieved.


If enough authors agree to partcipate, (and depending on the findings) the results may well be sent to representatives within media and press. No promises that Oprah will hear about it, but all efforts will be made to get the message out.


If there are AA authors out there interested in participating in this poll, please e-mail Karen at hairylemony @ gmail. com (without the spaces) with the subject header ‘Please send me the survey'.


The deadline for the survey to be completed and returned to Karen is March 1st 2007

Calderwood Books

Aspiring writers welcome - established writers too!
Submissions are open!

www.calderwoodbooks.com

Confessions of a murder mystery writer

Day One
I finished the book yesterday. It looked pretty good for having been taken apart and put back together halfway through. I was afraid of holes, you know, holes in the plot.
But everything holds together.
I sent it to my beta reader. She'll probably tear it apart again. This is normal. She's a tough dame with a red pen and eyes like laser beams.
The story is about Rachel Martin, a woman who is a crime scene expert. When the story opens she's working with the F.B.I., with a guy who she's been in love with since she was a kid. She's a mess though. She has no confidence in herself anymore. See, she got married and moved to England, and then she lost her husband and infant son in a car accident. She's devestated. She thinks she could have saved them. After all, she's psychic. So how come she sees things that can help other people, but not herself? She tries to keep her psychic abilities a secret, because she doesn't believe in them. Even after the dreams, and even after finding the lost boy. She still doesn't trust her powers.
Stan Wheeler is her boss, and he has a couple secrets himself. He knows Rachel is special, so he creates a new division for her. She has this incredible talent - she can find lost children. But right after they start working together, a girl disappears. And they find out that she's the third in a series. Every year for three years now, a girl vanishes on the same date, at the same time.
So there's the premise.
Rachel finds out who the kidnapper is, but she has no proof - only her dreams. And she knows that the kidnapper has decided to destroy her completely. She has to find proof before it's too late. Because the people she loves are in danger.
There's a bunch of interesting secondary characters and I did something different for this book. I used the POV's of Rachel and of her partner, Chris Winter. But I didn't use Stan's POV. I have my reasons.
Anyhow, it's at my beta reader, and I sent out one query to one agent so far. We'll see what happens.

Syllogisms

Just as I finished my blog post I must have hit a wrong key, and suddenly I'm looking at the log-in page, and my post (of course) had disappeared.
SO, I go to the kitchen, make a pot of boiling water for tea, and pretend my tea-bag is Blogger (or my keyboard - darn old thing) and I poured the water on the teabag and listened as it screamed.
Well, of course it didn't scream, but I have a wild imagination.
I suppose most writers...all writers...have a wild imagination. It can even be a syllogism.
All creative people have wild imaginations.
Writers are creative people.
Therefore, Writers have wild imaginations.

I was teaching my daughter about syllogisms. It's a reasoning presented in three parts: major, minor, and conclusion. It can be true or false. It was her vocabulary word of the day yesterday.
Syllogism: A kind of logical argument in which one proposition (the conclusion) is inferred from two others (the premises) of a certain form.

Every syllogism is a sequence of three propositions such that the first two imply the third, the conclusion.
Here is an example of a true syllogism:
All men are mortal.
All philosophers are men.
Therefore, all philosophers are mortal.
Easy, right?
Well, what about:

The more Swiss cheese you have, the more holes you have.
The more holes you have, the less Swiss cheese you have.
The more Swiss cheese you have, the less Swiss cheese you have.

This is the syllogism the French love to quote to kids just learning about this logic. It's kind of funny. And has nothing to do with the post I lost or wild imagination. Unless you want to imagine that syllogims have been around for ages. Aristotle is thought to have developed the concept. The word syllogism comes from the Greek words 'sun' and 'talk'. Was this because the ancient Greeks would stand in the marketplace and discuss philosophy? Or does it come from the three phases of the sun: dawn, noon, dusk?
If you want to get a little complicated, Aristotle noted five basic rules governing the validity of categorical syllogisms: The middle term must be distributed at least once (a term is said to be distributed when it refers to all members of the denoted class, as in all x are y and no x is y); a term distributed in the conclusion must be distributed in the premise in which it occurs; two negative premises imply no valid conclusion; if one premise is negative, then the conclusion must be negative; and two affirmatives imply an affirmative. Phew!

I have come across blog posts said to be written by dogs. From this I can create a syllogism:

All blog posters are people. (major premise - I think we can all agree here...)
Some blogs are posted by dogs. (minor premise. Haven't you ever come across a blog written by a dog?)
Therefore, some dogs are people. (Logical conclusion, right?)
LOL.
If you want to have some more brain twisters, go here to read about the paradox of the heap of sand. It's quite interesting.

confessions of a chocoholic

OK, I confess. I'm addicted to chocolate.
I went shopping to buy a pizza for my son, to take it to the firehouse where he's on duty today. While in the store I walked past the chocolate aisle.

(Important: Don't read any further if, like me, you love chocolate. Or at least put something over your keyboard so you don't ruin it with drool...)

I usually avoid the chocolate section in my store, but today, a woman was blocking the aisle and I had to use the next one over, and before I knew it, I was in front of a whole shelf of chocolate. My eyes immediately found the familiar red and gold package from Cote d'Or, my favorite brand. And, oh no; they had the one I love...Milk chocolate with toasted pecans caramalized with with sea-salted butter.
My hand reached of its own accord, and then I saw the white chocolate with the whole hazelnuts, and then a dark chocolate bar with wild cherry caught my eye. I hesitated. White chocolate with hazelnuts and nougatine? Milk chocolate with caramelized pecans and a touch of sea-salt? Dark chocolate with wild cherry bits? There was also the classic dark chocolate and marmelade orange peel, or the...no, no! It had to be the milk chocolate and pecan.
I snatched it off the shelf and, before I could swipe more bars into my shopping cart, I dashed to the check-out counter.

Then I went to the firehouse to deliver the pizza to my son.
He saw my shopping bag. "You have some chocolate," he said, his eyes shining.
What can I say? I love my son more than chocolate. I smiled bravely and took it out of the bag. "For you," I said.
He gave me a crooked grin and broke it in half. "We can share," he said.
Now that's a nice kid.
And guess what I'm eating right now?
Hmmmmm.
I love chocolate!

How scary can you get?

This, to me, is truly terrifying.

Poor kids.

https://www.abeka.com/ProductInfo/67024.html

https://www.abeka.com/ProductInfo/25836.html

https://www.abeka.com/ProductInfo/52574.html

https://www.abeka.com/ProductInfo/55220.html


God help them.

Breakfast

The kitchen early in the morning.

Mornings around here have always been kind of strange. We never got that 'the whole family sitting around the breakfast table' thing. At first, my husband got up at 5 a.m. and went to work. My sons were next, getting up at 6 and leaving the house by 7 for their bus. At 7 I got up and took care of the baby.

Now the baby is in junior high school, my sons are in college, and my husband doesn't have to get up early any more. So now my son gets up first, then I get up and drive him to the train station for his train to Paris, then I go home and wake up my daughter. By 8 a.m. the housework is done, and I can sit down with a cup of coffee and blog. But at 8:50 I jump up and rush out the door to get to the gym. (Class at 9!) And that's what mornings are like here!

More morning stuff:

My daughter likes to eat a Finnish breakfast. That is: cucumbers, a slice of cheese, and a slice of ham on toast with a mug of hot chocolate. My breakfast is a handful of dates, a slice of cheese, and an orange. My husband likes a yogurt and toast, and my son loves cereal and an apple.

The French are not big breakfast eaters. Mostly they eat leftover baguette, (toasted, with jam) and hot chocolate or coffee. All French tables have a bowl of apples and small oranges called 'clementine's'.

Here's the Finnish breakfast, with the bowl of apples and clementines.

Sunday, Sunday

It's Sunday morning and dawn is nowhere in sight. I got up early to take my son to the fire department where he's on duty today.
I'm dropping my daughter at the pony club in a couple hours. She has to get her horse ready for the show. I'll go and see her this afternoon. Horse shows are completely different beasts than polo games. A polo game lasts an hour, for one thing. A horse show lasts all day too - but when your daughter goes into the ring, you better not blink or you'll miss something. It lasts less than two minutes. Gallop, gallop, jump, jump, jump...and that's it! (Well, there are 12 jumps or so, and maybe I'm exagerating, but I'm used to watching polo, lol.

Well, the weather has gone back to mild here. It must be in the sixties this morning. The air is so mild it felt like spring when I stepped out of the house. And here I was afraid I'd have to scrape my windshield. I've only done it once this year.

I promised I'd finish my mystery book this weekend, so I better stop blogging and get to work. I will be writing and driving around today - but not both at the same time.
:-)

International Holocaust Remembrance Day

Today is the third International Holocaust Remembrance Day.
Please spare a thought for the millions of people who were persecuted and killed in the name of their race and religion.
May it never happen again - for anyone.

Afterburn by S.L. VIEL

S.L. Viel, better known as Paperback Writer for blog hoppers, very kindly offered one of her books to me from one of her many contests. I was thrilled - I'm an avid reader, but books are rarely on my budget. I used to review for Midwest Book Reviews and for A Romance Review, which was where I got most of my reading material. But I stopped when I started writing, mostly because I was starting to review friend's books and I realized I'd always be a bit biased.
I don't know S.L. Viel personally, and this is the first book of hers I've read. (And my reviewing skills are more than rusty.) But I'll try to do the book (and author) credit.
But before I write the review, I'd just like to say that 'Afterburn' is not like anything I've read before, so I can't compare it to another book. It's science fiction, set in the far future, and most of the characters are not even humanoid. I love science fiction, but I read mostly techno fiction or space operas, and I can't recall ever reading any book where the main characters were not humans. (Except in books where animals were talking, of course.)
I'm going to be brutally honest - I could not identify with the porpoise-like characters. I enjoyed their story, but I could never get the image of a sleek tuna out of my mind as I read about them. They were fascinating, and I LIKED reading about them. But they were always fish. However, Ms. Viel, perhaps with readers like me in mind, added several human characters who were all very captivating.
Anyway, here is the review:
S.L. Viel's 'Afterburn' is not like anything I've read before. On a world where anything is biologically and scientifically possible, different species meet, interact, and fall in love. Set against the backdrop of peace talks, the story focuses on several interwoven storylines, mostly concentrating on a race of ocean-living, space-faring aquatic creatures, and several earthlings. The conflict comes from political and scientific intrigue, with one of the most interesting monster creations I've ever read about - the mogshrike. Action abounds, with outer space fights, rescue missions, and exploration. The characters are all vivid and fascinating. I took the book everywhere with me once I'd started reading it. I read it mostly in short bursts, because it's written in a series of short, intense chapters. This worked for me - my attention span is not the greatest, and these past few days have been hectic, so it was the perfect book to carry with me (to the hospital, to the pony club, to the theater group conference that usually puts me to sleep - this time I read!) What I didn't like was probably what other readers love - cliff-hanging chapter endings. My son's 'Goose-Bumps' books had them. each chapter ended in a cliff hanger that made you turn the pages. 'Afterburn' has that sort of page-turning appeal. But as there were many different threads, the chapters didn't actually follow the action, so I admit to skimming backwards and frontwards to read in the order I wanted. This is because I'm very linear, and has nothing to do with my enjoyment of the story. I simply picked one thread I wanted to follow, and read it to the end, then grabbed another one. To Ms. Viel's credit, all the threads got wrapped up nicely in the end!
I loved the world building - I love descriptions, so more descriptions would have been welcome. Again, I'm not every reader, so I can see where some readers prefer to get on with the action. (Loads of that here!) I was fascinated by all the different species in the book. In short, I was sorry to see the story end, and will definitely be picking up more of Ms. Viel's work.

Thanks Erin!

The Lumberjack Song is now stuck in my head, and I'm apt to start singing whenever I catch sight of my hat. LOL. Quite funny though. And not as bad as some songs that have been stuck in my head. It's bitter cold here - the ground is covered in a pale sprinkle of frost and the ground is like stone.


I think my geraniums are finally dead. I left them out because of the warm weather, but the temperature dropped suddenly.


(You can tell my life is insanely exciting, lol)


Yesterday I was at the hospital all morning (my daughter had a mole removed - nothing serious - everything is perfect now) and today I am planning on finishing my mystery novel. That is, if I can get some peace and quiet. My husband and son are here today, and it's hard to work with them in the house.


My husband has lots of work to do on the computer for his blurb work for 'Seasons'. Yes, one of his jobs is writing the blurbs about the shows that are on television. He's good with blurbs. How lucky is that? I'm pretty good with blurbs too, actually. When he first started his job, I was the one who taught him how to take the synopsis of the show and make it into an announcer's blurb. I do the same thing with my books, since I usually have to write the blurbs for them. I think I've written blurbs for all but two of my books - My Medallion books.


Sunday my daughter has her last horse show of the winter - she's excited because she's already qualified to be in the finals. She's had two clear rounds out of three. I much prefer a polo game. You can sit and chat and watch it (it lasts almost an hour). With the jumping, if you blink, you miss it!

I think this is a funny picture - it looks like the pony is sort of hanging in the air!

Snow?

Snow?
Well, no snow today. I would have looked perfectly ridiculous with my lumberjack hat so I kept it in the closet.
There was a tiny sprinkle of white on the ground, like powdered sugar on a donut - but not enough to get excited about, and as soon as the sun rose it melted like...snow.
So I didn't go for a huge walk, I did lots of housework instead and wrote 2 chapters on my new book.
I'm stalled on my suspense book. I'll tell you why (maybe you've gone through the same thing?) I just don't know if it's any good! I wrote it all the way up to the last chapter or two - and stopped. I was going to hand it in to my agent, (she asked for it after looking at the proposal I drew up) but when she terminated our contract, I just lost interest in it. Is that normal? I suppose the best thing will be to put it away and not think about it, but the characters are all FURIOUS with me.
Chris's mother is lying in a pool of blood in the kitchen - is she dead? Is she just injured? Who hit her on the head? And Chris is drugged and helpless, lying in a narrow bed with a psycopath staring at him...
Rachel just found out who her father really is, and she's torn between elation and grief. She just discovered Chris's mother, and now she's terrified something has happened to Chris. (She's right...)
Stan is in a meeting with his boss. He doesn't know yet that Rachel has decided not to quit - he thinks he's lost her. And he knows now that the three missing girls will never, ever be found...and it's destroying him. How can he bring closure to their parents?

And I'm just sitting here ignoring my characters' enraged screams and teeth gnashing, writing in my blog, starting a new book, and thinking I must be crazy. Are all authors nuts?

Snow at last!

Okay, I admit, I'm like a little kid when it snows. I wait for it every single winter with foot-tapping impatience and then when it gets here I shiver in front of the radiator and wait until spring comes. LOL
But tomorrow they ('they' you know - 'the ones who know') anyway, THEY say is will snow.
So I've gotten my boots out of the attic, and found my scarf and my Canadian lumberjack hat. I am ready for the snow now. Tomorrow, when it comes, I will put on my boots, my hat, and my scarf and go outside. (And I promise I'll even put on pants, a sweater, and a coat...)
I will go for a walk in the woods with my dogs, and I'll take some pictures to show you all Montchauvet in the snow - which is so much more charming than Montchauvet in the pouring rain and mud, which is what we've had so far this year.
What's really nice is that a lot of the neighbors have left their Christmas decorations up in a vain atempt to add some seasonal cheer to the rotten weather, so with the snow, it will Finally look like Christmas. (On Christmas day we were all walking around in shorts...well, just about.)
Viva la Snow!
(Looking out the window. Nope, no snow yet!!)

Happy Birthday Twins!

Today is my twins BIRTHDAY! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TWINS!!!
I can't believe it was 21 years ago already that you both decided to come into this world three months ahead of schedule!! I think they have learned to be patient now...

I was scanning the web today, looking for things to put in my press kit, when I came across an interveiw I did ages ago for Literary Potpourri, when my Alexander book first came out. The magazine editor, Beverly Jackson, asked me about finding a publisher. This is what I replied.

Jackson: Do you think you've created a new genre? This doesn't really fit sci-fi or magical realism or mainstream novels, does it? Did you have any trouble finding a publisher? Did the publishing world understand what you were up to? I notice the book is published in Australia.

Macaire: I can imagine Homer trying to sell his Iliad to a modern publisher, and it's more or less what happened with me and the agents and publishers I approached.

Homer: "Describe my book's genre? Well, it speaks of war, so it could be an adventure, but it has a love story between Hector and his wife…oh yes, and it has paranormal elements, there's Cassandra, she sees the future. There are religious factors, the gods and goddesses are always appearing and there is a definite historical slant, after all, it's about the siege of Troy, but there is quite a bit of humor. What do you think?"

Publisher: "I'm sorry, it doesn't fit our publishing needs right now. It's well written, but doesn't match any category. We wish you the best of luck with another publisher."

Homer: "I have another one too, this one is called 'The Odyssey' and I think it could be classified as a travelogue." He hesitates. "Adventure travel with elements of romance and the paranormal."

Publisher: "Send in the first three chapters and a synopsis. We'll get back to you in about a year. But don't get your hopes up. History books are not selling, series are out of the question for an unknown, cross-genre is not acceptable for traditional publishers and you haven't been published before."

I waited four years before finding a publisher. Most editors loved the story, but no one wanted to take a chance on something so radically different than what is 'out there'. I had a problem with the fact that Alexander had more than one wife, that he was bisexual, and that Ashley is not faithful to Alexander. She falls in love with Plexis, and Plexis is in love with Alexander, and the whole story sort of overwhelmed some people. One person sent back my manuscript with 'I can't handle this!' in big red letters. That was a low point, but I never got upset about it. I love this series, and to tell the absolute truth, even if it hadn't been published, I still would have been content. I truly love to read these books, and that, to me, is why I wrote them. Because they are fun to read and to entertain. Even if it's only myself."

Well, I'm glad I found that, because it's true that I am glad I wrote these books, I love re-reading them, and I definitely feel like I've accomplished something wonderful whenever I do read them.

I have queried one agent about the series, and I also sent a query to one publisher. I contacted an editor who loved my work, but she says her publishing company only accepts unpublished books. (I was crushed - it wasn't published all the way. Just the first three books in the series. Does that count?)

Anyhow...(that's my word for the day: Anyhow) I am finishing up my suspense novel (I keep saying that but it's getting to the end, I promise!) and I'm starting a new sci-fi novel. I also started a contemporary romantic comedy (and I know, I'm mispelling everything, but I have to go make dinner!) so I have lots of projects.

Oh, and we're calling the publishing company Triptych, I think.

What do you think?

Lazy Sunday

It's very quiet around here. The dogs are sleeping. My son is on duty at the fire department. My daughter is at a horse show in Normandy with her friend. My husband is at the polo club. And I finished cleaning the house, finished formating a book, and am looking over some contracts and trying to decide what to do with my projects.
Everyone says (to an author) "Keep writing!" What they don't tell you is the amount of time you spend promoting: updating your website, writing blurbs, keeping abreast of publishing news, and blogs. They don't tell you what to do when a publisher folds and you get your rights back - how do you market a book that's already been published? Most publishers won't touch it. *sigh* They don't tell you what to do with a project that's been to a couple editors and that's come back to you. They don't tell you what to do when you know your book is a good fit for a publisher, but you can't contact anyone there because they won't accept unagented queries.
What you are supposed to do is this:
Write your query letter. Give it your best shot. Send it out following the agent/publisher/editor's guidelines. Wait for a month, 2 months, 3 months...Once I waited almost a year before hearing back from a submission.
In the meantime, in between time...Ain't we got fun?
In the meantime, we're supposed to keep writing.
So, I write.
But I'm starting to wonder if it wouldn't be better to do something more constructive with my time. If I spent as much time ironing as I did writing, we'd have the neatest clothes in town. If I spent as much time cleaning my house, we'de be in House Beautiful. If I spent as much time in the garden, we'd be in House and Garden, lol.
I suppose my children would love to have my undivided attention.
Not.
Or my husband? He'd go nuts.
My dogs? They mostly sleep. If I kept waking them up they would be cross.
I could draw. (I already do that.) I could learn to knit, take up jogging, take up chicken farming, double my tutoring load, get a job as a translator?
Actually, I think I'm going to go into the publishing end of the business with a friend and see where that goes. She's an editor and a reviewer, she wants a reader, cover artist, and a website designer. I love designing covers and websites, and reading is lots of fun.
Well, it's an idea.
And in the meantime, in between time, I'm still writing.
:-)

Poetry

One of the boys I'm tutoring has to learn a new poem every month. He has to learn it by heart and recite it in front of the class. The children have a choice between 4 poems every month - I have to admit that this boy always chooses the shortest one, lol.
This month he chose a poem about winter. It's quite lovely, and goes like this (translated of course)

First Frost

Winter is coming, killer of the poor people.
Like a cruel baron sending his sergeants ahead as a warning, frost, white fingers of ice and a harsh wind.
We hear the children's loud breath as they run with their hands on their faces, their feet hitting the hard ground.
Even the dogs, unable to scent, flee like arrows...
But how lovely the first frost!
The window whipped by the cold outside,
sparkles beneath delicate crystals
and shimmers beneath the mother of pearl-like micas,
Whose design blooms like arced acanthus leaves on the panes.
The trees wear crackling silk.
The sky has the thin look of pale old silver.

I have a hard time translating poetry, and I'm trying to give the general idea of the peice. It really is quite lovely.
Well, the boys have arrived so I better go see what homework they have to do!

Master of the Universe!

I spent four days struggling to master the formating for the Siren's newsletter, and I finally did it. It was such a thrill to see it finally uploaded online and looking decent. For so many days I'd stared at missing text, huge blank spots, uneven lines, and different sized fonts that I thought I'd go mad. I wanted to throw my computer out the window. I wanted to jump out the window. I literally sat at the computer and and screamed out of sheer frustration. (Well, yelled very loudly.) (Actually I swore in a rather louder than usual voice after making sure my kids were nowhere in hearing and the window was closed.)
But now it is done, the newsletter formatted and it looks GOOD. Ha! I did it.
Here is the link:
http://www.sensualromances.com/NewsletterJan07.html
It works.
And I have to thank my friend Katherine Kingston who has been formating this newsletter for the past two years, and whose task I have now taken over. Kathrine, you deserve a medal.

On the bright side - my daughters lice seem to have been irradicated. No more nits. And the English lesson with the preschoolers went fine - one of the little boys showed up in full pirate regalia including plastic sword. I managed to get it away from him and we sang 'Ten little Indians" and he wanted to sing ten little pirates, so we did that too.
My son was on duty today and I went to the fire department and hung around waiting for him to get back from a 'mission'.

It's January, which means that it's 'the galette du roi' time. That's a sort of flaky pastry with sweet almond filling, and in the cake is a little china figurine. They used to use a big dried beans, or 'feve', which is why the French call it a 'feve' but it's really a little glass figure (can be just about anything - animal, person, cartoon character...) and the person that gets it in his peice of cake is king or queen, and gets to wear a flashy cardboard crown. It's a cute tradition, and it lasts all month, although the real reason for the cake is the Epiphany.
What happens is you cut the cake while the youngest person at the table hides beneath the table, and you put each slice on a plate and ask 'who's this for?' and the child beneath the table calls out names, and that's how you divide up the cake. If there are no children, then you cut up the cake. But you're expected to wear the crown no matter how old you are.
The other day my husband got the 'feve', and he put the crown on. He got up and went outside to take the dogs out right after dinner, and forgot the take the crown off. He was walking around with the camoflage jacket I got in the states for him to go hunting, his red flannel pyjama bottoms my sister gave him for Christmas, and his gold crown.
The neighbors have taken to giving me sympathetic looks.
I wonder why?

Flied Lice

There is one thing about France that will probably surprise you - it is rife with lice. They are everywhere, and cross every social, racial, and economic boundry. As the French as fond of saying, "Lice are not snobs."
The first time my twins caught lice was when we lived in Bordeaux. We lived in Margaux, actually, right in the center of the wine-making region. Our house was the west wing of a chateau - we were the west wing, the cellars were in the right wing, and the chateau was in the middle. I used to say we had the best view - we had a view of the chateau. There were two charming girls in the chateau who, every morning, went to with a chauffeur to a private school in Bordeaux while I drove my twins to the local public school. The girls, after school, came to my house and played with the twins. One day, I noticed that one of them had lice. I checked my sons. They had lice too. In fact, everyone did. The nice thing about lice is that they share easily. The bad thing about them is that they are tough critters and it takes a dedicated treatment to get rid of them.
Who had them first? The private school or the public school? Actually, as both the Directors said in apologetic tones, "Zee lice are every year in zee school." All schools.
I was aghast. When I was a child in rural NY state, a strange nurse would come twice a year and walk with her heavy shoes up the rows as we sat, heads bowed, hands folded, waiting while she stopped and peered at our scalps, tilting our heads so she could see behind our ears and necks where the lice like to lay their nits. And if, by chance, a child had lice, it was a momentous event. The child was sent home, and all the other kids laughed and called him/or her 'Booger head' or worse. Having lice in the US was worse than having your father in prison. You were ostrasized.
The French were horrified when I told them this. Lice treatments are sold in every grocery store with the shampoo section. The bottles are pink and purple, and called pretty names like 'Marie Rose'. There are 'natural' sprays to help keep the lice away made from lavender oil, and there are a plethoria of shampoos and creams destined to wipe out the infestation. Because that's what it is. You never have a louse. You have lice.
And that's what my daughter has.
It (They) came from her school. Her friend Justine's mother called me and told me she was treating Justine. Or maybe it came from my friend's daughter - she went to the south of France and stayed with a woman in a manor house, and the woman's daughter had lice that she'd caught from school, most likely, and this woman's daughter spent the night at our house. Or it could be from the pony club. My daughter tried on a helmet the other day. At any rate, we have bought a pretty pink bottle of 'Marie Rose', and I'm borrowing a nit comb from my neighbor (most everyone has at least one nit comb, but I admit to losing mine. We haven't had lice in the house for years. This is the first time, actually, since we lived in London. Oh, yes, there were lice in England too. I bought lice shampoo in Harrods one day. My sister in law bet me they wouldn't have any, but I told her "They have Everything in Harrods." I was right.
There is a protocol to lice, as there is a protocol to everything in France. One calls the people who are frequent visiters and tells them, and one calls the school and tells the Director. One warns ones child not to share bonnets and scarves in the wintertime. Then you do your best to iradicate the creatures. You wash the sheets, the pillowcases (every day during the treatment) and you wash the sweaters, hats, and since my daughter has a parka with a hood - that gets washed too. I tell the people whose children come for English lessons. They just shrug, and we chat about lice and how hard it is to get rid of them.
Everyone is fatalistic when it comes to lice in France.
As they French love to say, "C'est la vie."

Happy Birthday, Mr. King

Happy Birthday, Mr. King.
I wonder what you would think if you woke up from your eternal sleep and came to the country you fought so hard to improve. Would you be glad at the progress it has made? There has been some. Equality is now a matter of law, and it's slowly becoming fact as well. Although if you look at what happened in New Orleans, you would doubt any progress had been made. Black people still make up the largest proportion of the poor and incarcerated population. More black children are struggling in school and struggling to get a college education. High paying jobs still go to white men. Some black people have made inroads, like you did, into prejudice and poverty. I'm thinking you might like to sit down with a certain Oprah Winfrey and talk about what has been done, and what can be done. You'd get a kick out of seeing people like Spike Lee and reading books by Toni Morrison. Your heart would rejoice because the lines are being blurred, and more and more black people are attaining what you strove so hard to offer them: equality. Respect. Justice. But the road must look uphill, rocky, and long to you still.And what about your views on the war? You were passionately against Vietnam, calling it an act of aggression, and stating that the United States was the most dangerous, destructive country in the world. You would feel that time stood still if you came back today. The US is still attacking other countries. They attack, while claiming to defend themselves. You would see through the lies, because you always did see through the lies. And you would be devastated for each of the soldiers that died. I can feel your pain. And you would speak against it. You would make fiery speeches and unite thousands behind you. You would raise your fists to the sky and cry out, "It is no longer a choice, my friends, between violence and nonviolence. It is either nonviolence or nonexistence."And you would be right.Even now, the president of the united states is throwing more men and weapons into a war that he started, a war that is filling his coffers and those of his cronies with billions of dollars in profits, while more sons of America die in a faraway country whose only crime was to be sitting on immense oil reserves. (Canada, you're next...after Iran I mean.)So I hesitate to invite you back for a look at the world on this day - your birthday. Perhaps it will be better to wait a few years, wait until the black people of America have truly found equality - in the way they are paid, housed, educated, doctored, and judged. Wait until this quagmire of a war is finished - though it may end in ashes. If the US decides to attack other countries, then I cannot blame them for fighting back. I can't blame the Iraqis for fighting back. They never asked for an invasion. They never asked for help. They never asked to be carpet bombed, to have their schools and hospitals destroyed, to have over half a million people killed. So, you would be too sad to see this mess. You would rant, and hardly anyone would raise their eyes from their television screens to listen. You would shudder, and think that maybe it's a good thing, after all, that this is all happening over your dead body.But I miss you. I miss your passion and your goodness, and your belief in nonviolent protesting. So I'm adding mine. I promise to protest inequality when I see it, to protest the war - any war - All wars, because they are an abomination. I promise to protest against hatred and against discrimination.Happy Birthday Mr. King. I wish I could offer you a better one.

--Martin Luther King, Jr. (1929 - 1968)

Nobel Peace prize - 1964

Books by Martin Luther King, Jr.:

Stride toward freedom; the Montgomery story (1958)
The Measure of a Man (1959)
Strength to Love (1963)
Why We Can't Wait (1964)
Where do we go from here: Chaos or community? (1967)
The Trumpet of Conscience (1968)
A Testament of Hope : The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. (1986)
The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr. by Martin Luther King Jr. and Clayborne Carson (1998)

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness. Only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate. Only love can do that." - Martin Luther King, Jr.

A Door Closes, A Window Opens...

A door closes and a window opens...and I feel like jumping out of it.

No, not at all.
I'm discovering how resiliant I am and I'm enjoying the feeling of bouncing back. My agent is cutting back her work load and only working part time, so she's letting me out of our contract. She doesn't feel she has the time to devote to my project. She submitted it to 4 publishers and she very kindly sent their comments along with her letter - and it did raise my spirits to see that the book was well recieved. One editor wants more of my work, "Please, please, please send more of her work!" she wrote. Well, that's a perk. It's also frustrating because I wouldn't dream of contacting her myself, which means I have to find a new agent now. I have four projects for sale. One is my "Time for Alexander" series. One is "The Promise". One is "Jack's Back". And one is "A Charm for A Unicorn", a YA fantasy. They are all different genres, so I'm not even sure that one agent would take them all. I've decided I might query several different agents with one project - so start with 4 agents and go from there. I liked my agent, she was a very nice person and fun to work with - always enthusiastic and helpful, so I'll miss her. And I wish her well with her own projects. I'm guessing she's working part time now to pursue some other interest.
People do change professions. I was a salesgirl, a model, then I was a mother (the hardest job so far!) a journalist, and an author. I've been a freelance artist since I left school, and I've done odd jobs like selling pizza on a corner, making jewelry, working in a toy fair, translating, grooming horses, website design, and tutor. I've taken a course on how to teach English to preschool children, and I do that once a week. I write, but I don't have to write. I just love to write. I've done so many things in my life that writing just seemed a natual extension of the experiences I've had.
I could be a groom, a translator, a cartoonist, or teach French etiquette. I've met kings, rajahs, princes and princesses. I've played polo and sailed on a sailboat that won the Rolex Cup. I've raised three children, and that's what counts the most for me. I have good friends, and that counts too. And a wonderful family - and for that I feel absolutely blessed.
So when this door closed and I got my project back and some of my hopes vanished like smoke, I squared my shoulders and, (like the Pollyanna I admit I am), I thought of all the good things I have, all the fun things I've done, my friends and family...and I looked out the window that just opened and I saw a huge, vast world just waiting for me.
And I started writing my query letters, because I'm sort of an impatient, stubborn person too, lol.

More on the roof.

The workers took ten tons off the building by taking out the whole first floor. The foreman was astounded - he'd predicted six tons, not ten. I went in and looked at the beams. They were bowed and some had huge cracks in them. All had been shifted from their original placement. I guess I'm lucky the whole thing never collapsed on my head!

They've put a metal beam in place of the old wooden main beam. A pity - it's not as picturesque as the wooden ones. But it won't break, lol.

Yesterday was full of surprises. The workers set fire to something in the building, the electricity shorted out, there was a while when I didn't know if I should call the fire department or my electrician. Neither were necessary - the workers put out the fire and fixed the electricity. But I didn't get much done. I had been working on my WIP, but put it aside out of fear of another black-out.

Auguste, my dachshund, loves going and getting in the workers' way. I have shut him in the house today, because they are tiling the roof and both the front and back gates are wide open. Auguste is heartbroken. His new friends won't play with him anymore. The workers keep asking me if he's a hunting dog. They much admire dogs that are useful, and think that pets are a flamboyant waste of space. I explain that Auguste and Rusty are part of the family. They sleep in the house, they get spoiled, and they sometimes hunt with my husband. I wouldn't call them hunting dogs. I'd call Auguste a lap dog, and Rusty aspires to win the world record for sleeping and snoring.

It's Wednesday...

...Which happens every seven days, so it's not all that exciting.
I fiddled with my Jennifer Site yesterday, put up a new header that my son Alex fixed up for me, and changed it to a more sci-fi looking site.
Tara Marie posted a review of Angels on Crusade and I wanted to say Thank You! It's really a nice review - she's not a sci-fi fan, but she gave it a very balanced and fair reading and I really appreciate it. You know how people are always saying that they want other people to start taking such and such a genre seriously? Well, it's nice when someone admits that a genre is not their 'thing', but they read it anyway and have something good to say about it. That's what I call an open mind. (and it's funny because I loved how she called one character's death gruesome - Yes! It's gruesome - it's someone's death, and I think that if you find it horrid, then I did it right, lol).
Kate Rothwell has kindly linked to my blog so I'm linking back. She had a contest and I didn't win it, but I had fun trying. Scroll down a few posts and check it out, and make sure you are not drinking anything as you read the responses. I will not be responsible for any ruined keyboards.
Well, my students will be here any minute (for their English lesson - I teach pre-schoolers English, which is a lot of fun.) We sing songs, play with puppets, and learn the colors, counting, the alphabet, and 'head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes...' LOL. That is their favorite song. Today's lesson is family members and so I've printed up papers with a blank frame, with 'This is my Mother', (Father, Sister, Brother) on them. The kids will draw their Mother (father, sister, brother) in the frame.
:-)
The weather here is still abnormally warm. It's rainy, but I've got the windows open to air out the rooms. The workers have come and are breaking down the roof in the buildings contigent to our house, (where I usually keep my freezer and my dryer, bikes and garbage bins) So there is dust everywhere. I keep sneezing. (The workers are not here yet this morning. Maybe I'll go and take some photos so I can show you what's going on.) Here is my house (on the right) and the outbuilding (front and center) with the new roof tiles waiting in neat piles.

And here we are looking up at the roof. The workers took out the first floor and left the beams. The floor (with the dirt, tiles, and such) weighed over five tons.
Now the workers will shore up the beams, redo the roof - and leave the building as it is. It's not going to be a liveable space, I'm afraid.

Have Great Wednesday!

Vacation is Over

It's SOOOooooo over, lol.
So today I went to the gym and my muscles are Not thanking me. We worked out with weights for an hour and believe me - I am going to be SORE tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to another gym class - I did, after all, make a small New Year's resolution - keep working out. And drop the bread from my diet. Oy, it will be Hard - I live in France - country of Zee Vonderful Baguette.
At least there is still coffee. And chocolate. Within reason. LOL.
So this is now my breakfast: (no bread or cereal) a slice of mild cheese, a handful of dates, a plain yogurt & some honey, and COFFEE.
Today my son lost my extra car key, so now we only have one key. This is a pain, because we juggle between the two keys - he takes the car early in the morning and leaves it at the train station, and I go pick it up later. Now that we only have one key, I have to get up and drive him to the station at the ungodly hour of 6:15. I don't wake up officially until 7:00, so this should be interesting. Note to self - make sure coffee is all set to go for the morning.
Someone just reviewed one of my books -actually I got three reviews this week, but this one (and I haven't even seen it yet) is from a romance reading woman who blogs and posts reviews on her blog, so it's not an 'official' review. She wrote to me and said she liked the book, found it refreshing and gritty - but warned me that the review wasn't glowing - did I still want her to post it? I thought it was incredibly sweet of her to ask. And I replied that I didn't write books to get glowing reviews (although it's nice to get them) and I was fine with her posting any sort of review she liked - it was her opinion, after all. I'm really thick skinned.
But it got me thinking. A lot of reviewers are afraid to speak their mind for fear of being castigated by A) the author, or B) the author's fan club. I've seen it happen and it isn't pretty. I've been a reviewer so I know how much work goes into a review, and I don't take kindly to authors complaints in public. In private, I figure you can say what you want. But a reviewer's opinion is simply an opinion, and you can't expect everyone to love the same thing. I sent this person the book as a gift, and she read my book and offered to post a review on her blog, and even if it's not glowing, I'm happy she cared enough to A) read the book and B) blog about it. Even if she is going to blog about what she didn't like about it - that's fine with me. Everyone is entitled to their opinions! Right? I might even learn something I didn't know about my own writing.
Other news:
And I'm waiting for my second round of edits for 'Merlin's Song' - my editor told me they would be arriving on the 12th.
Today's my mom's birthday and she has a terrible cold. Happy Birthday Mom, and lots of aspirin, hot soup, and lemon tea for you!
My son has decided to leave Ohio and move to NY, and he's trying to transfer his credits and enroll in another college. Paperwork and legwork. Good luck Alex!
My other son is taking his 'partials' which are the French equivalent of mid-term exams for university students. I wish him luck too - he has a long week ahead of him!

It's raining Again

It's raining...Again!
I can't believe it's January. The weather is so mild my forsythia is still popping out flowers - the idiot. I keep telling it that it's mid winter, and any little blossom will get frozen, but yellow flowers still appear on the branches. I wonder if it will be flowering in the spring. My daughter and he friend went outside to walk the dogs, and her friend fell and sprained her ankle. It's always worse when it's somone else's child. Mine don't seem to get into scrapes, but I've had to drive several of their pals to the emergency room for stitches or plasters. One girl fell and snapped her front tooth right off, which was probably the worst thing that happened. Another time we took the kids and their friends to a miniature golf course - and of course it's the friend who gets whacked on the head with the club (not even by anyone we knew - the kid went to another hole to see what was going on.) And each time I was frantic with worry and wishing it had been my kid instead! If it was my kid, I wouldn't feel so awful - like I was supposed to watch them every second, because my kids know that I'm a very 'hands off' mom, who has always let them go on hikes, ride bikes, climb trees - alone. I usually wave as they set off, (with the dogs in tow) and wait for them to come home. So I tend to do the same for their friends. "Sure, go out and walk the dogs - see you in a while." And then here they come five minutes later, the friend with scraped hands and a swollen ankle. (off to check - I made her sit and put ice on it - yes, still swollen but not turning blue or anything.)
I'm such a bad mother that I forget to have my son's stitches out last week. Yesterday he asked me when he should have them out and I'd Completely Forgotten he'd had 3 stitches! (he had a mole removed) No big deal - so I forgot. If there's no huge cast, you can be sure I'll forget. So I took him to see my friend Catherine this morning (a nurse) and she snipped them out and laughed at me for worrying. But I can't help it - as a bad mother I must always worry that my neglect is going to make my kids A) Hate me or B)Become Independant. In the best of worlds it would be B, but I'm always worried about A.
I'm a bad mother because I am sitting here blogging instead of hovering over the poor girl's ankle, but as she's laughing with my daughter, I can be forgiven for thinking she's all right. She keeps breaking off to cry out dramatically "Ow, My Ankle!" but I think that is just theatrics, and since she's been enrolled for three years in a row in drama class, I tend not to take her very seriously. (Just an aside here - why do most poeple take actors so seriously? They are Actors! They dramatize, they excel in theatrics, they are HAMS. Just as I don't take my children very seriously - "Mom, he killed me!" - so I don't take actors seriously either.)
I am not, however, as bad as my husband's aunt, who didn't pay attention to her daughters cries that her arm hurt. TEN days later she finally took her to the doctor who diagnosed a broken collar bone. The child was about twelve. Her Husband was a Surgeon. This is the mother who had a spaniel who growled when her daughter approached her. She would snap at her daughter - "Can't you see you're upsetting the dog?" Now there was a woman with motherly instincts.
I like my husband's aunt, but if I'd been her daughter, I think the dog would have mysteriously died of poison...But then again, maybe not. Maybe the mother would have...Oh, I am getting seriously off subject here.
I was saying that the weather is incredibly warm for the season, and that I was a terrible mother, which isn't totally unrelated. If we turn it into a metaphor for the earth and humans (as being caretakers for the earth) you can agree that we've done a pretty awful job of taking care of the earth, and if things start heating up, you can be sure it's out own fault. What happens when kids rebel? What happens when the earth rebels?

5 Reasons to Love living in Montchauvet

5 reasons to love where I live:

There are two egg farms. I can trot down the street and get fresh eggs whenever I want.

The restaurant across the street makes gourmet food to die for...And it's very reasonably priced.

There are hiking trails all around, and they are all very different and very beautiful.

There is a really great 36 hole golf course a quarter mile away.

There is a wonderful mix of people in the village - Parisians who only come for vacation, farmers who have been here for generations, people of all trades, lots of artistic people, and a villege fête comitee that really knows how to throw great parties!

New Years traditions in France

There aren't really many New Year traditions in France except one: on the stroke of midnight, everyone gets on the phone and calls friends and family. (Before cell phones there was always a log jam in front of the phone as people jostled for position.) Now, as soon as everyone is done kissing every other person in the house (another French tradition - the smoochie on the cheekie) they grab their cell phones and start dialling.
The phone calling spree lasts for several days afterwards. This is why: the French do not send Christmas cards. They prefer to call.
It's nice, but odd to be calling people at midnight. No one is ever sleeping (or admits to be sleeping!) Everyone expects the call. Nowadays, there are the instant messages too - and "Happy New Year!" was flying around the phone screens. My husband made a list of everyone he wanted to call and spent three days on the phone.
I sent my traditional Christmas cards out, including e-cards that I really think are terrific. Just think: No trees were killed to make an e-card. No jet plane fuel was burned sending it over the ocean. No cars and trucks were started in order to deliver it. E-cards are instant, disposable, and non-polluting. The spirit of Christmas and the New Year lives on in virtual pixels.
(and in disembodied voices over the phone...)

New Year Resolutions

Everyone seems to be posting New Year resolutions, but I haven't made any - except to exercise more and I do that every year.
Maybe I should look for more resolutions to make my life better, but to tell the truth, there's not much else I want. I have a wonderful family, terrific friends, good health, and a roof that doesn't leak. I have a computer that only crashes a little, a washing machine that only leaks a bit, and a car that makes strange noises but gets me where I need to go. I have two dogs that are fun to take on walks, and a beautiful area to walk around in.
So, this year I decided that I'd spend more time outside walking around with my dogs getting more exercise, but other than that, I'm quite content.

Nothing much is going on here today. The village is quiet after a raucous New Year's Eve party over at the restaurant across the street. We came home from our (small but nice) party at 2 a.m. and heard the music blaring as we drove up the hill. As we parked and opened the door, the music deafened us. They were really rockn' in the resto! My daughter was tickled to hear a very silly song last night at our party. It was Quite rude, and had us all laughing hysterically. It was a song you sang and it had gestures, and was all about the Bedouin's daughter, a banana, and a donkey...and no, you do not want to know! LOL. We were woken up early by the church bells (as usual) and my hubby brought me a cup of coffee in bed (I could hardly open my eyes, lol) and he's napping now, my son is studying for his exams, and my daughter is writing a book about a horse named 'Pitou'. The weather is getting colder - which is good because yesterday it was balmy and rainy. At least the cold means dryer weather here. Well, we're off to take a walk now with the dogs!

I hope everyone has a wonderful, prosperous, and healthy New Year 2007!
Best wishes and lots of hugs,
Sam