Time for Alexander

(Advance apologies for a long post!)

This review and interview appeared in LitPot magazine, published by Beverly Jackson. Shaula Evans, editor, wrote the review.

'Time for Alexander' byJennifer Macaire

"It was with some trepidation that I opened "Time For Alexander"--the first novel (in a series to come) by Jennifer Macaire. My sources said it was about Alexander the Great and time travel--and since historical fiction and sci-fi genres were not my normal taste, I was hesitant. But knowing and trusting Ms. Macaire's skills, having read much of her short fiction, I pushed forward in curiosity, and am happy that I did.

This novel is as much fun as a Mardi Gras parade. It lopes across the terrain of romance novels, historical fiction, magical realism, and science fiction--costumed, its cheek poked out by a devilish tongue, spoofing the genres, never taking itself too seriously, and yet cleverly snaring it's reader in a gloriously intriguing plot about a young woman journalist who time-travels back through history to interview Alexander The Great.

What follows, after she awakes under a pomegranate tree, is a hilarious, mind-bending tale of a modern woman immersed in the ancient throes of sex, love, quite a bit of vino, war, death, and ever so much more. Using historical facts for a springboard, Ms. Macaire leaps into the waters of pure imagination, and creates a unique novel, the likes of which you're not likely to find anywhere.

Ashley, our journalist heroine, narrates with the certainty and casualness of a woman who knows who she is, and has all the heart and daring of her own to take on any great world conqueror. It's a downright hoot. Macaire deftly submerges Ashley in the kingdom's culture and mores with such credible logic that it makes reading the saga pure fun, with us rooting for the 'good guys' all the way.

In this literally epic writing project, Ms. Macaire deftly tackles the authorial challenges of historical research, cross-genre writing, and publishing an unconventional novel.

In the following conversation by email, she discusses her craft and the adventure of publishing Alexander with publisher Beverly Jackson and LitPot Book Review Editor Shaula Evans.

Jackson: Hi Jennifer. I really enjoyed your book! Evans: Jennifer, I wanted to let you know that I read the book start to finish in one sitting and I enjoyed it tremendously.

Macaire: I appreciate your kind words.

Jackson: How did you ever get the idea to write Time for Alexander? What prompted you?

Macaire: I know it sounds trite, but I'd just read a biography that left me frustrated. The professor admitted that most of what was written about Alexander was conjecture, and that no contemporary writings about him existed. I decided to write a quick sketch, just to see if I could get a bit of the essence of Alexander's story on paper.

I started writing a short story about a journalist who goes back in time to interview him, and Alexander just took over. His character seemed to come to life, and when he kidnapped the journalist, I knew I was going to have to make the short story into a novel.

Jackson: When I finished this book, I knew I wasn't finished with this story. This looks like it's going to be a series of books, am I right?

Evans: I wondered the same thing. What plans do you have for future books?

Macaire: The funny thing is, I only planned on one book, but Alexander had such a strong character that I couldn't fit him into any other plot than his own life, which was incredible enough as it is and took up four books. But I couldn't let him die in Babylon, so his time-traveling wife saves him, and they go to Gaul and then to the land of the Eaters of the Dead to search for the Thief of Souls.

The story is quite interesting, and a lot is based on time, on the possibility of changing the future and the idea that fate does or does not exist. The Greeks believed in fate, while Ashley, who comes from the future, does not believe in anything. She doesn't believe in any sort of Gods, so it's always a nuisance when Apollo talks to her. She's scientific and intellectual, and she can't 'relax' and let things happen.

I had a lot of fun making her interact with Alexander. They complement each other. In all, there are seven books in the series. All done, all final drafts. I'm waiting for the contract for the rest of them, but like anything else, it depends on the results of book one, I suppose. I can't imagine not publishing them, so I have a couple of options open right now. The best would be that they come out as soon as possible--I have several people threatening me if the other books don't appear. Soon.

Jackson: (laughs) Did you mean for this book to come out so funny and campy? You DO know it's fun and campy, right? Was this intentional?

Macaire: I wrote an introduction for the first draft where I said, "The history is solid but the book is fiction and walks that fine line between fantasy and reality." I also wrote, "I wanted this book to be fun, most of all." So of course I knew it was funny. There are some places in the book that still make me laugh aloud, and that's a good sign, considering I've read the book at least a hundred times just editing it.

Campy is a good word for the sort of humor I was aiming at. Actually, while writing I wasn't aiming at anything. It just felt right to take the book in that direction. It is a character-driven book, and Alexander is so larger-than-life that if there wasn't that element of absurdity it would not have worked. Plexis is actually the character that adds all the humor to the story, and I think he's always been my favorite.

Jackson: I liked that character too. I was astonished at some of the things I learned about their everyday lives, not your mundane Encyclopedia Britannica fare! How much research was necessary to write this?

Macaire: I have read at least three complete biographies of Alexander since high school. The last one was by an Italian professor who quoted many of Aristotle's letters, Darius's letters and contested the letters that were supposedly written by Alexander. He claimed that all Alexander's writings were destroyed and that everything written about him was conjuncture.

That certainly sparked my interest; it was a refreshing point of view, and it opened a vast window in the historical world that had largely been closed by writers such as Plutarch who has long been the 'last word' on Alexander.

Plutarch wrote Alexander's biography four hundred years after Alexander's death. Plutarch was Greek, and the Greeks were always a bit touchy on the subject of those upstart Macedonians - Philip and Alexander. No matter they'd certainly saved Greece from becoming a fief of Persia.

Then there are the modern historians; very serious, learned people, who always seemed to want to press Alexander into a modern mold. One book that both helped me and incensed me at the same time was 'In the Footsteps of Alexander the Great' by Michael Woods. He actually trekked across Asia, following Alexander's army. That, for me, was a Godsend. It took away having to research distances, time and geography, which were necessary for making Alexander's voyage 'real'. At the same time, Mr. Woods felt the need to be politically correct, and insisted in trying to find a 'reason' for Alexander's making war on all the tribes along the way. He also tried to compare Alexander's emotions and feelings to that of a modern man.

Mr. Wood's interpretation of Alexander didn't work for me, the same way that Mary Renault's books on Alexander did work--but had nothing to do with Alexander. I love her books, but I never got a feeling for Alexander as a human being, and I feel very strongly that he was human.

Evans: Is it historically correct in its details or did you take some poetic license?

Macaire: I did take poetic license, especially after Book Four, when Alexander is saved. But then again, some historians think Alexander didn't die, and that he was smuggled out of Babylon. The battles are all in context, the people around him (except for his time-traveling wife) existed, his movements (thanks to Mr. Woods) are exact, and the customs and even the toothpaste was heavily researched.

I used molded glass, because blown glass didn't exist back then, nor did paper. The Greeks were finicky about cleanliness, and the Egyptians were even worse. (Body odor was considered a sin) So there will be a few preconceptions about that time period that will surprise some. I got a kick out of finding out what they brushed their teeth with. Oh, and no stitches. They cauterized everything. That must have hurt.

Jackson: Are we going to find out what happens to Ashley? I'm dying to know if she gets her child back, if she lives out her life there, if she ever makes it back to modern day to tell the tale? You got me!

Macaire: Well, don't worry! Ashley lives to tell her tale, though she never goes back to her own time. She gets the chance though--remember when she mentions that someone had already been sent to interview Alexander? Well, he lies dying on his pallet, but Ashley meets the time--traveler, and he mistakes her for Roxanne. (Which does not please her.)

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?

Macaire: It fits everywhere in a sense. It is historical, and I convinced the Historical Novel Society to review the book. Romance reviewers loved it, although one romance magazine primly pointed out, that "because it was not a monogamous relationship, it could never be classified as 'Romance'", but added, "This book is fantastic!" Science fiction magazines have claimed it as their own, one saying "Ms. Macaire has used pure science fiction to take us on an incredible journey…"

So it's nice that everyone has found something to relate to in this book. But to tell the truth--I wasn't thinking about any of that when I wrote. I was just following the story as Alexander, Plexis and Ashley evolved. It is their story, and everything else sort of faded into the background. I never once thought about genre as I wrote, I never do.

Evans: What was your biggest literary goal with the novel?

Macaire: I had several goals. I wanted to pull off the challenge I'd set myself - to write a literary novel that would be accessible to everyone and fun to read. I wanted a 'I can't put it down!' book that would make people think, that would bring up subjects that were taboo such as love between men and infidelity and make them appear so natural that they became accepted by readers--as they were accepted in that time period.

But most of all, I wanted readers to experience a shift in their perception of life, and to learn from the book--whether it be about Alexander, ancient toothpaste or whatever!

Jackson: Did you have any trouble finding a publisher? Did the publishing world understand what you were up to?

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.

Evans: Since some of the Literary Potpourri readership consists of writers, can you share with us some insights with us into the process behind publishing the novel?

Macaire: I wrote the series in four years - there are seven books, each about 300 pages. I thought about having it as a trilogy - but try selling a nine hundred-page book when you're just starting out! I tried traditional publishers, but as I said above, they wouldn't take the chance. Most were extremely nice - all loved the book but were afraid it wouldn't sell. Agents were the worst - I tried 30 agents before deciding to represent the book myself. I chose Jacobyte in Australia for several reasons - I figured they would be less puritan than the American publishers and they had a good, eclectic selection. I read a few of their books before submitting to them, and I was thrilled when they offered to publish Time for Alexander. I had an agent look over the contract and she pronounced it all right. I designed the cover and those of the next six books using the same statue of Alexander the Great.

I am glad the book is finished, glad it's finally published but mostly glad that it's being read and appreciated. (note: When Jacobyte folded, I hung onto the novel, not sure what to do with it. For now, I decided to self publish with my own company, Calderwood Books.)

Jackson: What other kind of reading do you do? Do you read light or serious fiction?

Macaire: I read anything with words on it. Since I could put 'b' and 'a' together and get 'ba', I've been reading. My favorites are Tolkien, Ray Bradbury, Dorothy Dunnett, The Discworld series, Douglas Adams, Cold Mountain, Water Touching Stone, Amy Tan, James W. Hall, Robert Ferringo, The God of Small Things, Dreams of My Russian Summers…Well, I could go on for pages.

Evans: At what points does your own life or personality intersect with your characters?

Macaire: I don't know, really. I can say I was very involved with them as I wrote the book - I think Plexis is my favorite character, and I had the most fun developing his persona. Ashley was difficult because she was so cold and couldn't show her feelings in the beginning, so it was hard to make the reader like her.

In the first few drafts she came off as too standoffish, so I had to re-think her. I had to 'get into her skin' in order to bring her to life. She and I share a few traits; we don't have any prejudices and we're both shy about showing our feelings, but otherwise we're nothing alike!

Evans: What are you most excited about with this book?

Macaire:I am elated at the reception I've gotten. Because it was turned down by so many agents and publishers, I had begun to think A: It would never get published, and B: My book was somehow flawed.

Most rejections stated that the book was not right for the market, that historical fiction was not 'in' and that a book with the subjects I brought up would not sell. It is such a relief and a joy to find that readers react the way I hoped they would - So far I've gotten nothing but positive feedback.

Evans: Is there anything else you would like readers to know about the genesis of the book?

Macaire: The genesis was the easy part - I guess. Stopping was hard! I think I could have gone on and on. I'm looking forward to having the rest of the series come out. I won't give anything away, but I will say that Ashley saves Alexander in Babylon, and they travel north in search of the Thief of Souls, a real character in the mythology of ancient Gaul.

They also go to Rome, Carthage and the British Isles. Actually, looking back, I'm amazed. I'm also grateful for my family for putting up with me while I wrote. From my husband who didn't notice the dust or complain about the pile of laundry and my son Alex who gave me ideas, to Julia who was so good, and especially to Sebi - who would make dinner for all of us while I 'played on the computer!'

Jackson: What would you like to say to your readers and your potential new readers?

Macaire: I hope, of course, that they love my book! I realize it's not for everyone, but I do hope it entertains. I want my readers to know that I don't take myself seriously, but that I do take them seriously, and I feel an obligation to write as well as I possibly can. I think books have an obligation to entertain, to educate, to fascinate and to pose questions. I hope I've done all this, and if I have, then I'm pleased. I will admit to loving e-mail, and I will be glad to answer any questions anyone has about the books or characters.

(note: The rest of the Iskander series will be published by Calderwood Books, starting in January 2008 - as of this summer, one paperback publisher has requested a full)

§ § §

Jennifer Macaire is an American freelance writer/illustrator. She was born in Kingston, NY and lived in Samoa, California and the Virgin Islands before moving to France. She attended Parsons school of design for fine art, and Palm Beach Junior College for English literature. She worked for five years as a model for Elite. Married to a professional polo player, she has three children. After settling in France, she started writing full time and published short stories in such magazines as PKA's Advocate, The Bear Deluxe, Nuketown, Anotherealm, Linneaen Street, Inkspin, Mind Caviar (for the August 2002 launching) and the Vestal Review. One of her short stories was nominated for the Pushcart Prize.

North Star

Every day until September 23 I will present a book from our list at Calderwood!


Today we start with the first book we contracted, a fantasy written in Tolkien style called 'North Star'

The first thing that attracted me to this book was the writing style. Pier has a lyrical, visual style that captured my attention. It's a short novella (just under 100 pages) but it has plenty of action and emotion.

Blurb:
Her home destroyed, her family slaughtered, the centaur Riyya thought she would never be whole again but destiny intervened when a dying man came upon her refuge and she nursed him back to health.
Gaenor is looking for the answer to a mystery rooted in the forgotten history of the world, and he gives Riyya the purpose she so desperately needs. Together, they seek the truth behind a legend long forgotten.
As the mystery unravels and the existence of a mythical race of demigods is put to the test, the light of the North Star – the fulfiller of dreams - leads Riyya and Gaenor across the world and seals their destiny.

Excerpt from NORTH STAR
byPier Giorgio Pacifici

Look at the night sky, at the stars sparkling in the cloak of darkness, glittering jewels of fire and dreams; the tales, legends, omens and secrets they spell, laid bare for all to read. And to those who prefer otherwise, what are stars if not omens of hope and desire, of dreams yet unfulfilled, of a longing which stirs the soul? What are they, if not the spirits of the night, drops of bright silver that shine upon us, and comfort us, and give us hope that tomorrow will be a better day?

But of all those who watch at the stars with longing in their soul, thrice blessed are those whose eyes behold the shining North Star, creator of dreams, fulfiller of wishes, harbinger of hope, for they are the lifeblood of the world. For it is in dreams and desires that the power to change the world resides.

Greater miracles than magic could accomplish can take place under the benevolent gaze of the North Star, herald of the Ilelorn, for those who have the daring and the faith to believe that the Gods look upon the world they created with love. That even the ineluctable laws of the world can be broken, if one has sufficient desire, and even the most unlikely dreams and hopes can come true, if one but has the courage to try.

The Twin Worlds have changed, and much has been lost with the passing of the Ages; lore and knowledge that might never be recovered. But the North Star still shines serene in the velvet sky, beckoning to those who might be brave and faithful enough to follow its light, and there are still eyes which look to the night sky with longing and desire, which will follow the light of the North Star in search of their dreams…

-From "The Star of Fulfilled Dreams" by Miril Maidelin Tornorin

I write these words by the light of a candle, in a nameless inn on the road to Logard, in the month of Seren, the year 412 of the Fifth Age. I wish to record all that has happened before wonder fades and we wholly return to the world. As I write, a fire burns merrily in the hearth, and we gather around it in the common room.

None of us speaks; but even as I pen these words, my thoughts, and those of my friends and companions, go back to what we have seen and witnessed in the past months. We drink spiced wine and mull over what to do next, but none of us is ready to move on just yet. We have been witnesses to both grief and miracles, we have stepped out of the mortal world for a fleeting moment, and seen what the world has lost. It will take time to adjust back to the world we had left behind.So I write these words as a tribute to what we were a part of, a way to record all that happened so that the memories will survive us, and so that those we left behind will not be forgotten.

No story truly has a beginning; I can only begin by telling how I came to it. But before I continue, let me ask for your forgiveness if the tale is not as polished or adequate as a writer or a story-weaver could tell. I'm neither, and this is just my poor attempt at telling what we saw. Perhaps in the future a story-weaver or singer will read this account, and make a wondrous tale out of it. I would love to hear that, someday, and to know all will be preserved, but for now, this must suffice.

Don't be deceived by the fact that I am the writer of the story; though I took part in what I will recount, this story is not about me, however much it may seem otherwise. Bear with me, if you will, or read on quickly, and soon enough the real story will begin.

My name is Riyya kin'Nanimah, daughter of Mizad and Falmeh, and I am a nurain from the Free Lands of Irig; other races call us "centaurs". My tribe, the Nanimah, was one of many scattered across the endless plains, neither particularly large nor particularly important, but to me, it was family, and I would not have changed it for anything in the world. I remember it fondly, even after so much time has passed.

Like my mother, and her mother before her, I was born with the gift of magic. It runs in the blood of my family, as far as even Nourah ai'Nanimah, our story-weaver, could remember. From a very young age I was trained in the use of my rare gift, which brought honor to my family, and which I wished to use to make my ancestors proud. So, throughout the seasons as I grew up, I trained relentlessly while the tribe moved through the plains herding and living as we have always done.

Few nurain have embraced city life, and thinking about it, it's ironic that I write this in a human tavern. But few outsiders have seen what life is like among my people; even fewer can understand my bafflement at the chaos that grips the societies humans have built, and my dislike for the walls that surround their cities.

I can't help thinking of the hours of sheer joy we used to spend galloping wildly through the plains, the wind in our faces and green, soft grass beneath our hooves, not a care in the world, in lands so verdant and scented that I have never seen their like elsewhere. Or of the numberless evenings spent in groves or on the shores of small lakes, rolling in the grass for the simple pleasure of it, wading in the water or singing at sunfall, bonfires burning happily and children playing hide-and-seek and telling each other stories, while the adults enjoyed the evening air and the many scents it carried with it, and smiled at the enthusiasm and happy laughter of the young ones.

And the tales! No story-weaver was more skilled than Noumah, whose endless supply of legends and fairy tales, songs and myths, used to keep us enthralled for hours, children and adults alike. She had a voice capable of weaving wonders; she was able to tell stories so skillfully that many would get lost in them. We would sing together in the night; everything was peaceful, because the Lands of Irig are vast, and we don't seek out enemies.

Indian summer

August was a bust - (luckily I wasn't here to enjoy all the gray clouds and rain) but September, so far, has been a golden month.

I'm reading (re-reading) A Distant Mirror by Barbara Tuchman. It's a history book about the calamitous 14th century.
(from Amazon) "In this sweeping historical narrative, Barbara Tuchman writes of the cataclysmic 14th century, when the energies of medieval Europe were devoted to fighting internecine wars and warding off the plague. Some medieval thinkers viewed these disasters as divine punishment for mortal wrongs; others, more practically, viewed them as opportunities to accumulate wealth and power. One of the latter, whose life informs much of Tuchman's book, was the French nobleman Enguerrand de Coucy, who enjoyed the opulence and elegance of the courtly tradition while ruthlessly exploiting the peasants under his thrall. Tuchman looks into such events as the Hundred Years War, the collapse of the medieval church, and the rise of various heresies, pogroms, and other events that caused medieval Europeans to wonder what they had done to deserve such horrors."

Looking at that paragraph, something jumped out at me. "...Others, more practically, viewed them (the disasters) as opportunities to accumulate wealth and power."

Right now, Naomie Klein has a book out called 'The Shock Doctrine', where she speaks about the myth of the peaceful transformation of the world into a free market. In her book, she argues that the transformation was anything but peaceful, and often was pushed through by force after such disasters as war or earthquakes disoriented the people in the country. Reading 'A Distant Mirror' and drawing parallels from 'Shock Doctrine', I'm struck by how this policy has emerged throughout the ages as a sort of 'the best for the bullys' doctrine. The biggest, strongest, and most ruthless profit from the weak and unprotected.
I think that a lot of the US government right now is about making a huge profit on shock and awe. Maybe it's time we started thinking about the weak and unprotected, and stop supporting the bullys of the world.
and if you still haven't cottoned on to the fact that the war in Iraq was 'all about the oil, dummy', here is a paragraph you should read:

"...The law that was finally adopted by Iraq's cabinet in February 2007 was even worse than anticipated: it placed no limits on the amount of profits that foreign companies can take from the country and placed no specific requirements about how much or little foreign investors would partner with Iraqi companies or hire Iraqis to work in the oil fields.
Most brazenly, it excluded Iraq's elected parliamentarians from having any say in the terms for future oil contracts. Instead, it created a new body, the Federal Oil and Gas Council, which, according to the New York Times, would be advised by "a panel of oil experts from inside and outside Iraq". This unelected body, advised by unspecified foreigners, would have ultimate decision-making power on all oil matters, with the full authority to decide which contracts Iraq did and did not sign. In effect, the law called for Iraq's publicly owned oil reserves, the country's main source of revenues, to be exempted from democratic control and run instead by a powerful, wealthy oil dictatorship, which would exist alongside Iraq's broken and ineffective government."

Yes, the oil of Iraq has been grabbed by the vultures, and now the profits are winging their way to the (80$ a barrel anyone?) pockets of Bush and Co.
Shock and awe - it's a shocking disgrace.

Hanging around with the Greek Gods

I'm trying to finish up a book about a girl whose mother is a muse, and who is determined to become immortal. In order to become immortal, she has to become a hero (like, everyone knows that!)

At first she joins Zeus on the road to eternity, but Zeus vanishes and Ares takes over, leading the troop to the great battlefields and disasters of history. When she escapes, she finds out that Zeus has been transformed into a human, and she has the chance to save him and become a hero. With the help of a faun and a a young man from the sixties, she tracks down Zeus in California. He's become a rock star and hasn't a clue to his real identity. How to get a famous rock star to give up his life? Well, our heroine simply kidnaps him, then finds herself running from demons and the law.

I have to write the last third of the story. So far it's aimed at the 14 and up crowd (YA tale).

I just have to sit down and do it.

But it's so sunny out.

Good news this morning - Pocket books bought another one of my books for an anthology. They bought Llewellyn's Song, and it will come out in May 2008!

:-)

OK, OK. I will now get to work.

Where was I?

On a train. With Zeus, a faun, a hippy, and some hobos.

Hookers or slicers?

I'd rather be a hooker than a slicer.
For one thing, if you're a hooker it means your hands are stronger, and if you're a slicer you're letting things go at the top of your swing.
What swing?
Oh, the golf swing.
What did you think we were discussing?
:-)
I went to the golf course to hit a couple buckets of practice balls. I was working on websites all day yesterday and this morning I burned my finger while cleaning the kitchen, so I decided I needed a change of scenery.
One thing I have to remember - wear pants that don't slip down. I was wearing a pair of jeans that are too big, and everytime I swung, they'd slip. I must have made a fascinating sight - swing, grab, tug, pull, swing, grab, tug...
It's a beautiful, crisp day. And I'm back inside because I have to get to work on a story - the deadline is looming like the iceburg over the Titanic.
I got two rejection notes from agents yesterday. I'm trying to sell a paranormal thriller about a woman who finds lost children. So far I've sent out three queries and had three (nice, but still) rejections. It's sort of like golf. There are good days and bad days. Sometimes you get the par, and sometimes you think you'd like to throw the clubs in the nearest pond. The one your ball just fell into, for example. I once made a man fall off his tractor, he was laughing so hard. I hit three balls in a row into the pond. I don't know why that was so funny. Maybe because the pond was at right angles to me, and far smaller than the fairway I was aiming for? Who knows. Anyway, he fell off his tractor then had to scramble to get back in it before it drove into the bunker.
That day I was slicing.
I'd much rather be a hooker.

Weekend

I'm still recovering from the weekend.

Imagine a village bootsale. The village closes its streets to traffic and everyone sets up their stand - at 6 in the morning. And until 6 pm, there is a constant flow of people through the village, coming to find treasure (because one man's junk is another man's treasure...)

Case in point.

I got five old lawn chairs out of the junk heap last year.
I scraped them and washed them off.

I sold them for 75$ yesterday.

To me they were cute old chairs. To my husband, they were horrible junk. Now they're someone's treasure. The woman who bought them can't wait to sand and paint them.

I didn't buy any treasure yesterday - I sold my junk. I sold books, chairs, old toys, old clothes, old purses, and a couple dishes. I mostly chatted with my friends Andrea and Lynn who came to share the space in front of my house. We had three tables, a rack of clothes, and countless cardboard boxes loaded with stuff. I made sandwiches, coffee, and tea for everyone. There were seven children in and out of the house. Today I have to do lots of cleaning. But I'm still recuperating. I will clean later. After I've had another coffee. Or two.

It's been a long weekend!

Friday Snippet

I can't get the widget - humble apologies. If you have a Firday snippet up, leave your blog URL in the comment section. I got this idea from Gabriele (the Lost Fort). Thanks Gabriele!

In this snippet from 'Time for Alexander', I try to answer the question that has plagued historians for ages. 'Why did Alexander the Great go into Bactria?' Why not stay and rule Babylon, as he'd planned?
Ashley has been separated from Alexander for nearly a year, imprisoned in Mazda. She escapes and manages to make her way to Babylon in time for Alexander's coronation. After sending him a message, she waits for him in a priestess's quarters.


I turned back to the window. The sun was setting, and orange shafts of light glittered off dust floating in the air, cloaking the city in a nimbus of gold. The priests in the fifty-three temples of the city blew their trumpets as soon as the sun disappeared below the horizon. My skin prickled. Trumpets filled the city with their brassy wails. The last notes died away. The air seemed to settle, and there was a silence.
In the quiet I heard his footsteps and rose to greet him.
He hesitated in the doorway. He had changed in one year. His face was harder, and he was thinner. His skin pressed against his cheekbones, and his eyes were greener. The jaguar stared out of them. His mouth had a different set to it, one I'd never seen. His hair was cut short and lifted off his temples and the back of his neck in fine curls. It was no longer gold; it had reverted to its normal color, warm brown. It made his skin whiter. It turned whiter still when he saw me, and he stood quite still, not even breathing.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat. Then I felt the hot rush of blood in my cheeks and I swayed forward. "Alex," I breathed, and fainted.
He caught me before I hit the ground. He hadn't lost his extraordinary speed or grace. He picked me up and held me to his chest, calling my name until I opened my eyes.
"Is it really you? Are you back to stay?" he asked. He started to laugh, or maybe it was a sob. "Ashley of the Sacred Sandals indeed. Your nose is bleeding again."
I looked down and saw the scarlet splash of blood staining my robe. I put my hand up and stanched the flow. "It's just nerves. I have so much to tell you, and we have no time." I could hardly look at him; everything I'd lived through in the past year was like an explosion inside me that I had to defuse somehow. I took a deep breath to steady myself. "We need to speak."
"Nabonida?"
"We can talk in front of her. We may need her help, and she has something important to tell you." I wiped my face with the hem of my robe.
Nabonida paled, but to do her credit she didn't try and wriggle out of it. She told Alexander everything she knew. While she spoke she took my soiled robe and handed me a clean one. I put it on and turned to Alexander. He was looking at me with a queer expression.
"Your body?" he said falteringly. He raised his eyes to mine, and I read the unspoken question.
I told him about our son.
When he heard about the baby his face twisted and he buried his head in my chest. I held him. I could feel him shaking, but when I saw his eyes I realized it was from rage.
Afterwards, Nabonida and I sat while Alexander paced across the room. His fury was terrible, but mine was equal to his, and our eyes met with a clash that could practically be heard.
"I will kill her." His voice was as bloodless as his face.
"No." I stood up and levelled my gaze at him. "No. You cannot kill your own mother. Send her back to her country."
"To Macedonia?"
"No, to her own people. To Epirus."
"Why can't I kill her now?"
I shuddered, imagining what the Time Senders would do if Alexander killed his mother. We'd all be erased, including Paul. "Because the gods will take care of her. You have other things to do. We must go to Persepolis. We must get our son back. Please, Alex." My voice broke. "I want my baby."
He gathered me in his arms again and I wept. The energy that had carried me for days across the burning plains was deserting me. I was simply a mother who wanted to find her child.
It was as if a dam burst inside me then. The pain I felt threatened to overwhelm me, and I sobbed until my throat was raw. Finally the storm within me ebbed. I looked up, and saw that Alexander had wept too. Tears still glittered on his cheeks. But he pulled himself together and smoothed the hair back from my hot face.
"What did you name him?" he asked me.
"Paul."
"Paul?" His face fell. "Not Iskander?"
"I called him Paul Alexander."
He tried the name out a few times then nodded. "I think I like it."
I smiled. "I think you'll like him, too."
He bent over and kissed me gently on the lips, giving me goosebumps. "I love him already. We'll find him. I swear it. If I have to go to the ends of the earth, I will find Paul."


'Time for Alexander' will be available from Calderwood Books on September 23!

Friday Snippet

Friday Snippet

I'm trying to hook up with Mr. Linky, but I'm having no luck, so I'll wait a while before posting a Friday Snippet.

(I'm sure this post only makes sense to a few people, lol)

If I did two things at once, I'd never get anything done.

I did a lot today. I clipped the hedge, helped my husband build a desk from my daughter, cleaned her room and organized it, did two loads of laundry, weed-wacked the front garden, went shopping, cleaned the fish tank, took the garbage out, cleaned the garage, read through the slush pile, checked my e-mail, answered letters, went to the post office, printed up stickers for my daughter's school books, filled out forms for her school, and as I was heading up the stairs with a load of laundry I heard my husband tell my son not to do two things at the same time.
I thought to myself, If I did two things at once, I'd never get anything done. I do five or six things at once.
I'm writing two books, I'm working on three websites, I'm organizing English lessons for three children and one adult, and I still have to think of doing housework, gardening, and take care of myself because I'm a Leo and Leos have to pamper themselves - so I have to have time to do my nails, my hair, and make sure I get my gym class and golf schedule down! Heavens! How can anyone only do one thing at a time?
:-)

Thursday Thirteen

Thursday Thirteen -

13 things I'd love to be able to know how to do.

1) Sing. I'd love to be able to sing really well. My voice is OK. I used to sing accompanied by my guitar in my hippy days. I never got asked for an encore, lol. I'd love to be able to sing like Joan Baez.

2) Dance. I'm hopeless. Today at gym I tried a new class - it was a dance-gym class with the samba and lots of spinning and jumping. I looked like a spaz. I cannot dance. Best I can hope for is a romantic, soppy slow dance where I can hang onto my partner while he sort of shuffles around. I'd love to be able to dance like Ginger Rogers.

3) Speak Spanish fluently. I love to speak Spanish, it's such a fun languege with lots of hand movements and inflections - sort of like Italian but more staccato. I can understand most of it, but when I try to speak I sound like Lucy. Terrible. (terrrrr-eeeeblay!) I wish I spoke Spanish like Ricky Ricardo.

4) Sign language. I love sign language - it fascinates me. I love that it's international, that it's so fluid and quick, and how the gestures mimic the action words, and how fast kids pick it up. I have managed to memorize a few signs. But I'd love to be able to do sign language like that lady on the news channel.

5) I'd like to be able to get over my phobia of spiders. It's so silly. A little eight-legged critter can make me shoot out my my chair and fly out of the room screaming. Imagine what a BIG spider does to my nerves? Last night there was one on my daughter's bedroom wall. She nearly slept on the sofa. Thank goodness my son, armed with a vacuum cleaner, managed to eliminate the enemy. It's ridiculous. I should be able to get over this. I want to be as brave about spiders as Martin Nicolas.

6) I want to be organized. My house is so messy. My cereal boxes are all crooked, the rice is mixed in with the flour, there is a huge jumble where my pots and pans are, and my sheets are not all ironed and folded - instead they are sort of bent and shoved into whatever space I can find. My bathroom does not look like a spa with rolled towels and neat baskets. Instead the drawers are overflowing and my towels piles are tottering. My desk is like one of the inner circles of Hell. I want to be as organized as my friend Andrea!

7) I want to be able to make things look pretty. I'd love to set a nice table, to make a thank-you note with a pressed flower from my garden, to create a centerpiece from a few odds and ends lying around the house and a glue-gun. (can't write that without thinking of Miss Snark, *sniff*.)

In other words, I want to be as ceative as Martha Stewart.

8) I want to be able to fit into my old jeans. I've kept them for ages (they were fine before I got pregnant with my last child). I've never been able to squeeze into them again. They're soft and worn, light blue, faded, and (as I recall) very comfortable. Now they fit up to my knees. I want to be skinny like I was before.

9) I would love to be able to meet the French Rugby team. I'm looking at the calendar and wishing that. If you saw the calendar you might wish this too.

:-)

10) I'd like to be able to cook fish and make my family like it. So far I have managed to get them to eat salmon - when there are no bones in it and when it's cooked with soy sauce. I wish my family would like fish.

11) I want to be able to think of 2 other things - but I have to go make dinner now and I can't type fast enough....

12) I want to be able to type fast.

13) I want to fly like Superman, while I'm at it.

A few questions about e-book prices

Questions - please answer!
We want to sell our e-books, so we want to price them to sell.
My question is, what do you think is a fair price for:
A) A novella (about 35k)
B) A novel (between 50 - 80k)

How can we make prices seem tempting? How much is too much to pay for an e-book? Do low prices make you think that maybe the quality won't be so great?
Since I can buy a paperback for 8$, I don't want to spend that much on an e-book!
But what price would make YOU say 'Hey, that's a great deal - I think I'll buy that book!'?

We have a due date!

September 23, 2007 - Calderwood Books will open its virtual doors.

Our line-up of books include a spy thriller with dead men talking, a beautifully written fantasy told from the viewpoint of a centaur, and a YA book featuring pirates, time travel, and a very, very fat dog! We also have a spooky, funny book for teens about prom dresses gone wild, a sizzling romance that features fire-fighters (swoon!) and a wonderful book that takes you on a family saga from England to Australia during the first and second world wars. There is a children's book that is pure fantasy fun, and set in the middle ages to boot, and a trip to the past to interview Alexander the Great.

Starting next week I'll post a little more about each book!

Changing horses in midstream

Is that an expression? I can't decide if it is or not.

This chap is changing horses in mid match. Most players do that now in order not to tire their mounts. The horses, when they get tired, lose their brakes. It's no fun to play polo on a horse that won't stop. (See traffic jam below.) So fresh horses are a must. Sort of like ideas. Fresh ideas are more interesting than stale, old ideas. I have to admit, I'm a nick-picky reader. If the plot is stale and old, if the characters are recycled, then I'll more than likely skip pages and even change books altogether.

It's the same, alas, with writing a book. Changing books in midstream is not unheard of. Sometimes the book just doesn't take off. Like a tired polo pony, it loses it's ability to sparkle. Then, the only thing to do it change books and hope the sparkle returns. This pony rested and was played again in the last chukker - so sometimes putting a 'WIP' away until it gets fresh again is the best thing to do.

No use flogging a dead horse. :-)

unfuckingbelievable

This should be required reading:

URL: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/16076312/the_great_iraq_swindle

Read it and Weep. (Especially if you're a US taxpayer like myself. ) I cannot believe I paid taxes - over 15% of what I earned - to support this. It's unfuckingbelievable. If there is any justice at all, the Bushies will all be cockroaches in their next lives.

President Bush (center) surrounded by members of his family (top left) and key members of his government (right top and center) and ex-government (right bottom.)

Crash!

Have you ever felt like everything was happening at once?
Like you can't slow down, or turn around, or turn around, or get past the guy in front of you?
Have you ever felt like the ball was just out of reach?

OK, I have to admit, I think this is the most hilarious polo shot I've ever taken. It was serendipity - the play slowed down, but no one told the guys in the back, and everyone telescoped together. My favorite is the horse in the middle with just his head sticking out.

I also feel like I'm in just such a traffic jam right now. I have deadlines galore, most self-imposed, but those are the most important ones. And a book to write, and another simmering in my head, and there is Calderwood Books about to launch in September (more closer to lift-off) and I have a new book coming out with Loose Id, that is a Terrific Book - and totally original. And fun. And I have to start promoting it. What am I thinking of?
Well, to tell the truth, today I was thinking about mowing the lawn, scraping the garden chairs, and so I did.
Na!
:-)

Toréador, en garde!

I just read in the newspaper that Spanish national TV won't be showing bull fighting during the daytime anymore because they don't want children subjected to violence.
I can only agree the idea that bull fighting is a cruel and violent sport. But to say that taking it off TV will ensure children don't see violence astounds me. There is enough violence in cartoons to make me shudder. Bullfighting is nothing compared to a Mel Gibson movie.
While in Spain we saw several bull fights on TV. In one, the bull was pardoned - in other words, he was saved by the matador because the matador thought he fought so well he should live. So the bull was taken away, washed off, and taken back to his farm where he will become a breeding bull. Lucky for him. Most of the others end up as steaks. Bull fighting has existed as a sport since ancient times. In Crete the boys did gymnastics on their backs, in Greece they fought each other, in the Middle Ages they were pitted against dogs and bears. In Roman times gladiators fought them. Bulls are a symbol of strength. And the matador doesn't always win.




Toréador, en garde!Toréador! Toréador!

Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant qu'un oeil noir te regarde

et que l'amour t'attend,

Toréador, l'amour, l'amour t'attend!

(Carmen, Act II)

The Night Zoo

The Night Zoo

There are only two zoos in the world that are open at night. One is in Singapor, the other is the Fuengirola zoo in Spain.

If you visit the link, be sure to look at the virtual visit - click on the map, you can look 180° around the area, and click on the camera icons for information about the animals in the zoo.

The Fuengirola zoo is another zoo without cages. The animals live in large, grassy areas with plenty of trees and water about. The settings are beautiful - actually, the whole zoo is gorgeous, and no detail is spared for animal or visitor. I was impressed at how clean the zoo was, and how healthy the animals appeared. Another first for a zoo - several different species live together in the same area, and we saw monkeys playing with a large hornbill, an otter playing with a water buffalo calf, and the cutest little baby orangutang in the world!

But what's magical is at night - when the sun sets, the zoo changes. The monkeys all curl up in trees to sleep - but the leopard and tiger wake up and start to roam. The deer and the alligators are on the move, and the creatures who were dozing are suddenly playing. The zoo has a show at night as well - called 'The Forest Clearing', it features trained owls and other creatures of the night. Then there was a musical presentation from an African group of musicians and dancers, with all the children invited to dance on the stage.

My pictures don't do justice to the zoo - here is one of one of the animal settings. My night photos didn't come out, because I didn't want to use a flash. My daughter shot this picture of a parrot and wanted me to include it in the blog!

If you're ever in this corner of the world, don't hesitate to go visit this tiny but beautiful zoo. It's right in the middle of the city, but once you step inside, you feel as if you're in a tropical jungle. And you must stay for the night - it's open until 1 a.m. during the summer months.

Queen Victoria's Railroad in Spain

Queen Victoria made a lot of railroads - and one of the most picturesque is in Spain. What happened was this: Queen Victoria wanted to see Ronda, but the roads were not safe (banditos and such) So she sent engineers and commissioned a railway to be built from Gibralter to Ronda. It's still in use today, and what is charming (besides the conductors in their red hats) are the stations - all Victorian style with the added touch of Spanish cafés and flowers.
We took the train from Gaucin and went up the mountains to a small town ( Benaoján) where we got out, had lunch, and took a walk. A lovely day!
The train tickets cost 2 euros for a two-way trip. The coach was modern and comfortable. The Gaucin train station is in the valley, and the drive down from Gaucin is spectacular. (Check your brakes before you start down the winding road...)


The views from the train were beautiful - tall mountains, steep gorges, cliffs, plains, and groves of cork oak and olive trees.

The stations are all painted white and ochre - the yellow ochre is famous and is called 'Ronda Yellow'. There is usually a small café tagged on to the station, where you can get a cold drink and relax in the shade.

Links:

http://www.andalucia.com/province/malaga/benaojan/home.htm

http://www.andalucia.com/province/malaga/home.htm

http://www.andalucia.com/gaucin/home.htm

Viva Espagna!

I probably spelled that wrong, lol.

Anyhow, I'm back!

The weather in Spain was lovely - hot and dry. Well, it always is in the south of Spain. From where we were, we could see Gibralter rising up in a sharp angle and just beyond it was the Africa with the Atlas mountains blue in the haze.

Here is a view coming down the hill toward the polo fields, with Gibralter in the background, and further on, the mountains of Africa.

To get to the polo fields, we had to cross a river, and the bridge was an interesting three-arched bridge designed by Gustave Eiffel - the same man who designed the Eiffel Tower in France.

And here is the Port of Duquesa, where we stayed. You can see the marina on the left and on the right, the beach. We had a good time not doing very much. I read a lot of books, I took a lot of walks on the beach, and we went to visit a friend in the mountains and went to see a very interesting zoo. I'll do a post about both those!

Spain is a wonderful country. Where we were on the coast it's very touristy, as you can imagine. There are lots of huge construction projects going on, and the coast, which used to be mostly fishing villages and farms, is being transformed into a paradise for golfers, retired folk, and English people. There were more English people in the village of Duquesa than Spanish. Almost all the shops were run by English ex-pats, who had moved from their country in search of sun and reasonable property prices. I was amazed by the change. I've been coming to the south of Spain for 26 years now, and it's day and night. Before, you had to look hard to find a restaurant - now they are all over, and there are Chinese, Indian, and Argentine restaurants as well as traditional Catalonian restaurants. (I do NOT recommend eating at a Chinese restaurant in Spain...) And there are souvenir shops everywhere, most souvenirs being made in China, alas. We went to the mountains to find a pottery shop, and we bought some fans. They are now in fashion - everywhere we went, pretty ladies had their fans!

Here is a pretty girl with a fan. We were at the Gaucin train station, getting ready to take a train to the mountains. It was a hot day, and women had their fans out. Most match their fans to their outfits. I saw many at the polo games with ropas (dresses) and abanitas (fans) that matched. It was quite chic. A nice fan made of light balsa wood and cotton, and hand painted, costs about 5 dollars. The more fancy ones were more expensive!

Another typical Spanish item is olive oil, but I didn't get any this trip -it's expensive when it's good quality. And there is also the Iberian smoked ham, which we eat with sliced melon.

Well, more about my Spanish trip tomorrow, with the story about Queen Victoria's train, and the trip to Gaucin and the mountains.

Adios!

Spain

I'm in Spain!
We're way down south, in a place called Puerto Duqueso. It's hot, dry, and dusty - and we're mostly hanging out and playing mah-jongg (my daughter insisted on bringing the set with us).
My husband is working, so we're living by his schedule. He works from 5 pm to about 10 pm - and in the morningm before noon, we go to the beach, and after he gets off work we go out for dinner and hang out at the docks. Puerto Duquesa is a big marina.
It's hot - so we mostly stay indoors actually.
We went to the mountain village of Gaucine to visit a friend, Karen, and that was lovely. The drive was hair-raising - all curves and mountains - but the view once there was breathtaking. We had a dinner of tapas outside, overlooking the gorge.
Tonight we're going to the zoo - it's open until 1 am - it's the Fueringola zoo, and we're looking forward to seeing the nocturnal animal exhibit.
I'll be back in France the 22 of Aug. and I'll post pictures!

Sam

Mah Jongg

Mah Jong every which way

family style

My daughter's stylish set

Porch style

Outdoor style

We've been playing all summer. I love the game, and my daughter is completely hooked.

You usually play with 4 people, but you can play with 3 or even 2. (Or 5 if you switch like in bridge). There are several ways to play it. The Chinese play it very much like gin rummy. The English have a whiole book of 'special hands', and my aunt, who taught us, learned the English way while she was living in China, lol.

The real difference is in the various 'hands'. They all have cool names, like 'Gerties Garters', and 'Heavenly Twins', or 'The Ruby hand', or 'Dragon's Breath'. There are three suits, (bams, cracks, and dots) and three dragons (red, white, and green) and the four winds (north, south, east, and west.)

The set-up is easy, once you get the hang of it. And playing is fun and for all ages.

We wanted to get a set, but they are hard to find. So this summer, I promised my daughter we'd take a trip to Chinatown in NYC and see if we could find one. We went down the last day of our visit, and stopped to see Sam, who offered to take us to Chinatown for lunch and help hunt down a set - so off we went. We had lunch in a Fabulous restaurant, I will definitely recommend it to anyone who loves Chinese food - it's called Shanghai Cuisine, and it's located at 89-91 Bayard street downtown Manhatten. (corner of Mulberry and Bayard). Everything we had was delicious - I can't say enough good things about that place.

Anyhow, after lunch we headed east, and hit a small street with some tiny shops, and Sam spotted a mahjongg set in the window! We went in, and the shop owner took down a box, opened it, and took out a huge wooden box with a dragon on it. She opened it, and my daughter gasped in delight. A lovely mah jongg set. My daughter asked the price, and her face crumpled It was expensive. I was just starting to tell the lady that we couldn't afford it, when Sam said, "Wrap it up! It's for her birthday!" My daughter was jumping with joy, and all I could think of was 'we are going to have to carry this 30 pound mah jongg set with us on the plane'. Actually, I was thrilled, and am planning on sending a care package to Sam, with some chocolate and some 'get skinny' tea - LOL!

My son managed to cram the box into our luggage, so all we had to do was wheel it around the airport. And now, every night, we play a few hands of mah jongg.

Last night I won with a hand called 5 odd honors.

:-)

Thank you Sam!!!!!

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday to me!

I'm 47 today - (I'll only admit to 35) and I mowed the lawn and lifted the old lady next door.

?

Yes, for the past few days I've been helping the nurse who takes care of the 104 yr old woman next door, because the nurse sprained her arm and can't lift her anymore. So I've been helping out. It's been an interesting experience. The woman in question (104 - that makes her 57 years older than I am) is deaf and cranky, and has slight dementia. Otherwise, she's in fine form. She can't walk, but she can complain - which according to the nurse, she does constantly. Today she complained I set her down too fast (I actually nearly rolled over with her onto the bed. She's heavy!) But she's strong, and she can usually hoist herself into her wheelchair, just not back into bed.

My son, who is a fireman, said that most of his missions are picking up elderly folk who have fallen down and can't get up. He told me to call him if the old woman got stuck. So far the nurse has managed on her own, until she sprained her arm.

The old woman saw me the first day and said, "Who's that?"

"La voisine!" (the neighbor) shouted the nurse. (she has to shout, as the old lady is deaf as my dachshund when he's decided he wants to stay in bed.)

"Justine?"

"No, la voisine!"

"Oh. Bonjour Justine."

"No, pas Justine. Ta voisine! She's here to help!"

The old lady calls me Justine now, and complains that I don't lift her high enough to get her situated right in bed.

According to the nurse, she's being difficult because she refuses to let the nurse lift her with this handy contraption that would make life considerably easier for everyone. But the old lady refuses, and so the poor nurse has to come knocking at my door every morning and evening to get the old woman set up right.

Next week a new nurse is coming, and I'm leaving on vacation, but my son said he'd be standing by in case she needs lifting, so don't anyone worry.

:-)

Vacation!

Vacation!

I love summer vacation. I love not having a schedule. I dont have to worry about forgetting appointments, getting days mixed up (they're all the same during summer!) and setting the alarm wrong. I feel free. I just took my daughter to the dentist today for her monthly checkup for her braces, and the dentist remarked at how relaxed and happy I looked. Thinking about schedules must put lines on my face. Oh well. I still have a month left. So what am I up to? I'm headed to the south of Spain, where I will try to catch up on my reading.
Books I've read so far this summer:
The Coal Black Horse (fabulous)
Killer Angels (even more fabulous)
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows (made my plane trip home so much more fun)
And a couple of decent books by good authors, but I've forgotten the titles, sorry.
Some photos of this summer:

At the military cemetery in Saratoga, where my father is buried.

Here is my daughter fishing at the lake at my uncle's camp.

This is a photo taken at the cemetery at Gettysburg.

Me holding my niece, and my mom, in her new house. We have to strip the wallpaper and paint this room, but the woodwork is done.

New York

I just got back from the lake. A lovely vacation with no computers, TV, e-mail, or any loud noises except the truck that started up every morning at 6 am when the neighbor went to work. And that was fine because at five we were up, drinking gourmet coffee, and sitting on the porch (or sitting in the canoe) admiring the silvery lake.
My sister and her husband own a restaurant and they came laden with food - and so we had wonderful dinners every night. My cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents all came to see us, and we fished, played mah jongg, and walked around the lake. And that was it. And it was heaven.
Now I have sporadic internet use - I'm at my mom's house for a week. Next Monday I'm going to Pennsylvania for a few days. I've never visited Gettysburg, and that's where we're headed for some historical events. My daughter and I are watching the TV series 'Gettysburg' that we rented from the library in anticipation of our trip. We're going with my school chum Debbie, whom I haven't seen in over 15 years!! I hope she recognises me.
;-)
I haven't had time to work, and I'm falling woefully behind. But I do have two new books out - Hotline - over at total-e-bound books, and My Fair Pixie is now in print in an anthology called Lady Jaided's Virile Vampires.
If I had more time I'd add links and such, but I'm headed out the door to help my mom with her new house. We just got the dry wall up, it's alnost all taped, and we'll start priming soon.
Got to run!
I'll write more later!

More about e-books & stuffed animals

I have discovered something terrific with Adobe Reader! They have a wonderful full screen option. But it's hard to find. When you open the pdf file, look at the very bottom left hand corner. (Yes - LEFT - I made sure, lol.) Bottom. Small icon, looks like a TV screen. When you hover over it, it says 'Full Screen View'. Click on it, and the result is a GREAT page for reading e-books, similar to the microsoft reader page.
I'm amazed. I never noticed that before. That'll teach me to read directions.

I am packed. My suitcase, though small and complete with wheels, weighs a ton because of all the French soaps I'm bringing back with me. French soaps are really nice. But they're heavy.

My daughter's suitcase (a school bookbag with wheels) is packed too. She is bringing her stuffed bunny with her. The bunny has been travelling back and forth with her since she was six. My son Sebi has a small stuffed seal called Lightning. He still has it, (he's 21 and he got the seal when he was 3). He's carried the seal back and forth from France to the US, to Argentina, and England. Lightning was once forgotten in the stables, and a big white horse named Ajax 'took care of him'. (My son had left him in the horse's stall during a game of hide and seek when the grooms had taken all the horses out to exercise.) Sebi was always attached to his stuffed animals. He had a stuffed rabbit named 'Apple' and a sort of yellow monkey named 'Saucisson'. Apple, Lightning, and Saucisson went everywhere with us for years and years. And my son still has, like I said, Lightning the small seal. (And like the old rocking horse in the Velveteen Rabbit, his eyes are gone, his nose has been rubbed off, and his fur has gone bald in spots - but he's still perched next to my son's bed.)
My daughter's bunny 'Jumper' is rag-worn, shapeless, and his ears have been sewn back on twice. But she loves him. She loves him better than the plush, new stuffed animals she got for Christmas or her birthday last year. Like Sebi, who pushed away a brand new rabbit with howls of "I want my Old Bunny Back!" when Apple was lost, my daughter prefers her careworn creature.
She looks at Jumper through eyes of love.

Packing

I'm finally packing for NY. Well, actually, I already finished. I pack in about three minutes. Then I leave the suitcase at the foot of the stairs and add things to it as I remember them. My daughter still hasn't packed, but she's said to me at least a hundred times, 'I wish I was in NY already!'. She's tired of school. In France, we have the longest school day of all European countries, and yet we're not the top performer - Finland is with the shortest day of all European schools, but they have a higher teachers per student ratio, and they offer lots of after school tutoring. My daughter loved the Finnish school system (she went there on a class trip). I wish they would shorten the school day here, but although our new president has said he wants to reform the education system, there haven't been any concrete propositions.
I haven't been blogging much - sorry. Busy with the garden (summer means lots of work outside - I love it!) And my son is on vacation from the university, so that means he's often on the computer during the day. I've been busy with Calderwood Books (and again, loving it. I enjoy reading the query letters and delving into the slush pile. I'm still excited about finding new books. I am waiting for one author to send in his contract, but he's hesitating because he's not sure he really wants to publish an e-book (he's holding out for a bigger publisher). In one way I'm disappointed. I fished his book out of the slush pile and loved it. But I understand an author's reticence. E-books don't have the best reputation of making tons of money for an author. And as much as I try to say that regular books don't do much better, it's true that even a small advance is often more than an e-book ever earns out over its lifetime.
I keep hoping that there will come an inexpensive and perfomant e-book reader. I think that books DO pollute. The industry is terribly wasteful. (But most industies are, come to think of it.) E-books are a good economic and ecological choice, but it's hard reading on a computer, even a laptop, and not many people have e-book readers yet.
I keep hoping...
And hoping.
A good, cheap e-book reader.
No bells and whistles.
Just a paperback size.
Thin, with good lighting.
Able to read several file formats.
Rechargeable battery with a long charge.
And then e-books will finally catch on. Imagine, you can carry a whole library in your pocket!
OK - time for lunch.

Dyslexia

I was writing some letters to find review sites for Calderwood Books. I have to run them through the spell checker because I'm a terrible speller. When I concentrate, I can usually spell most words right. Some I can never get right, so I avoid them. Mideival is one. I write it at least three ways before giving up and putting in Middle Ages. I have LOTS of words on my 'can never spell' list. And yet, I look the word up. I will spell it right by accident, then delete it because it doesn't look right. But I can't remember it.
I also can't tell my left from my right. I'm clumsy, bang into things a lot, and although I speak French, I'll never learn to write it. I'm dyslexic. It runs in the family. My mother can't tell her left from her right, and my daughter is so dylexic she didn't learn to read until she was 7, and she had to go to an orthophonist to learn to 'see' the difference between a d and a b. It was slow going. At first, she was at the bottom of her class. The school had a special teacher come in twice a week to work with her for almost two years, and her teachers only gave her half the amount of homework the other kids got. And yet, no one ever scolded her or told her she was 'slow'. We explained to her what dyslexia was, and told her she had to learn to live with it. She did, and now she's third in her class and has excellent grades. She's doing so well, we're thinking of putting her in a more challenging school. She wants to be a veterinarian. We're very proud of her. She worked hard and it paid off. She never got discouraged, and her teachers were all great and encouraged her to do her best.
My dyslexia never kept me from reading, although it does hamper my spelling, and if I meet a new word it takes me a while to get used to it. The best thing to happen to me as a kid was to be crazy about dinosaurs. Sounding out and then memorizing their long names helped tame my fear of multi-syllable words. I was never very good at sports - for some reason I can never catch a ball. I'm not great in math. I turn left when someone says 'go right!' and it took me years to catch the notion of 'early' VS 'late'. Time really does have no meaning for me. My most important helpers are my watch, my calendar, and my weekly planner. I use color-coded stickers, and yet I'm always forgetting what day it is, and when my friends invite me for lunch, they know they have to call me in the morning to make sure I don't forget. I didn't forget, I just don't know what day it is!
Weekends are the only times I feel like I can relax. There's no school, no schedule, no lessons, no lunches. And yet, I love having a full schedule. The more I do, the more energy I have. But sometimes I wish I could be organized. I wish I could put everything in neat piles, fold clothes (I can't fold clothes) and just organize my house. I know where everything is, but it looks like a rat's nest. But I am incapable of organizing my space. Dyslexia, for me, means having no concept of left-right, up-down, straight or crooked. I have three calendars on my desk, a yearly, a weekly, and a monthly. And I still get things wrong. Last week I arrived at the dentist a day early. (At least it wasn't a day late!)
Anyway, For those without dyslexia, it must be frustrating to deal with us sometimes. My husband mostly laughs it off, but he can't understand how I can get lost going somewhere I've been at least thirty times before. My sons can't understand how I can always be late picking them up from school. We don't do it on purpose. I look at my watch and see 'quarter to' instead of 'quarter past'.
Which reminds me - time to go to the pony club picnic! I'm riding today and my daughter is already mortified, just sure I'll fall off and humiliate her. I will be sure to get pictures if I do!
;-)

my rugby man calendar

When I went to play golf the other day, my daughter and her friends examined my rugby man calendar with much interest. I know because they hung it back up with Mr. September in view, instead of Mr. June. I suppose it might shock some people to see my 'nekkid guys' hanging on the wall but I've never thought of nudity as something shameful. In fact, I love the human body, even when it's not perfect. (But the rugby men are pretty near perfect, lol.)

Authors, pay attention!

Authors, pay attention.

I have been reading the slush pile again, and here are the problems I found. One book had too many heroes. The story was well written. I was hooked right away by a lovely description and some interesting action. And then the story went awry. Every character was a hero. The family - father, mother, and baby were all equally important. The neighbor's family - father, mother, and baby were important! And the secondary characters kept taking over the action.
If you have several heroes (thinking of Lord of the Rings here) then you need a strong, simple framework to carry them. The story has to be simple. "Take Ring To Volcano". What is simpler than that? Then you can have several different heroes. But be careful - don't overwhelm the reader. Each hero has his chapter. Each chapter has its structure. In the book I just pulled from the slushpile, the plot is complicated, the characters many, and I cannot get attached to any of them. I'm Overwhelmed.
I pulled a second book out of the slush pile. I read three chapters. Not once did I get into any of the character's heads. It was written in what I call third person omniscient. It's a good way to start a novel because you can introduce the setting and characters quickly. But it puts a certain distance between the reader and the characters because you're never deeply in their heads. So I read on, hoping that the second chapter would give me a clue as to who the hero was, and on to the third chapter, where the tone stayed the same. Good, clear writing. No connection at all with the characters. I needed a hero I could connect with, and I got comments on the weather.
POV is terribly important. Head-hopping is not bad if it does not confuse the reader, but it's a rare author who can pull it off. When I read the slush pile, I'm aware that most of the authors are just starting out. That's why we try to make our rejection letters as constructive as possible. We also invite the autors to resubmit if we like their writing and think they can fix the problems. Sometimes they are OK with our suggestions, and sometimes not. It's up to them. But I've never subbed a book anywhere without knowing that it will have to be edited. And my goal is to make the editor's job as easy as possible, and authors should keep this in the back of their minds. Their books WILL need editing. If the book needs too much, we can't afford it. Time is money, as they say, and if the book takes too long to edit, it's not worth it. So pay particular atention to POV. And count your heroes. (And heroines.)

Been Busy

Good news! My son passed his exams and he's admitted to the second year in his university. In France the universities are free, which means there are a lot of students in the first year. You have to pass tough exams to go on to the second year, and only 30% are admitted directly, so we're proud of him!

You know how it is. The calendar starts filling up, the days becoming crammed with appointments and 'things to do'. I'm leaving for the US on the 22nd, and suddenly there is a ton of stuff I have to take care of before I go. And then my husband got his job in Spain, so we'll be there for the whole month of August, and that means more frantic organising as I realize I'll probably be without internet for that whole time. (*gasp!*)

I threw a birthday party for my husband Wednesday and we had a great time. A golf tournament followed by dinner. The weather was wonderful, and we all had a great time.

My car, however, is falling apart bit by bit. It doesn't start well, the window is broken (it fell over when I lowered it the other day, and I had to prop it back up and close it to keep it from falling out again. Now I have to be careful not to open it. It's aslo making strange noises. I'm glad my husband got the job in Spain - it's paid well and hopefully we'll be able to get another car when we get back in September. Argh. As my son once said, 'Why does everything have to cost so much?' He was four at the time and was trying to buy an expensive stuffed hedgehog with only fifty pence - but I know exactly what he was feeling.

Happy French Mother's Day!

I had a lovely day. I spent it with good friends, in the sunshine, with lots of wine and song...Well, not any songs, actually, the group was not very musical, but it was a lot of fun.

When I got home, I found my son had made a batch of chocolate chip cookies!!!

(Happy Mother's Day?)

I ate two.

Yesterday there was a small tournament nearby. There were knights in shining armor, flags, a tavern (a tent, but it was quaint.) And there were people in costume but I didn't get a photo because my batteries wore out. Argh. I wanted a picture of the little boy in the musketeer outfit, complete with plumed hat and cape! It was very hot, so we didn't stay long. But isn't the barn fascinating?

Ye olde barn with ye strangely shaped round roof. (Probably an old pigeon coop)

Ye Olde Taverne (Perrier & Mead)

Applauding the winners

City life, country life

I used to live in the city. I was in NYC before I moved to Paris. In my apartment building, most people knew each other and said hello if they passed each other in the halls or in the elevator, but that was it. In Paris, we hardly spoke at all. I lived in my Paris apartment for three years and never saw my neighbors. In Lyon, it was a much more friendly. We had dinners with our neighbors, our kids walked to school together, and the mothers left the strollers in the nook next to the elevator. The apartment in Lyon was a big complex, with a pool, a park, and a wonderful view over the valley. Unfortunately, my husband couln't find work nearby, so we moved back to the Paris region.
We found a small house in a tiny village. I was used to city life, so I didn't rush out and knock on my neighbor's doors to introduce myself. My daughter, age 5, had no such qualms, and knocked on Everyone's door, so soon everyone knew us. I was used to a friendly nod as I passed a neighbor. Here, you stop and chat about the weather. I was also used to not knowing anyone, and not really paying attention to the poeple around me. What was considered polite in the big city was considered rude and stand-offish here. I had to learn to 'chat'. It was not easy.
Some of the people in this village have been here for generations. Their grandparents and great-great-ever-so-great grandparents lived here. Some just arrived, like us. The locals are friendly, but seem to have a rivalry between themselves. There is a veritable war going on between the two egg farmers, for example, and between the people on the hillside and the people on the valley side there is a sort of constant snipping. It's a war that has been going on for ages, I suppose. The village is divided into clans. The village fête commitee, for example, imploded because of the clan war, and they had to elect a whole new village fête commitee.
It may sound trite, but the people who live here and whose families have lived here for centuries, remind me of goldfish in a bowl sometimes. They peer out at the world, but to them, this village is their world.
For someone who has moved from one hemisphere to the next throughout her life, it's very strange. I can't imagine being so rooted to one place.
Recently the war escalated into a nasty graffiti written on the walls of a new house. The house was new - the family in it was one of the village's own. But the house was built on a spot of land that for a long time had been declared non constructable, the law (somehow) changed, and the house was built, which angered more than one person, obviously. Someone wrote a nasty slogan on the wall. The mayor issued a bulletin. People clucked and shook their heads. But for me it's obvious that the war is simply continuing along age-old lines. The hill people against the valley people, jealousy sprouting from a building permit and a covetted peice of property.
Does it make me wish I was back in the city?
No. Not at all. The villagers have drawn their lines of battle, but I'm not a villager. And most of them are caring, wonderful people. Graffiti is cruel, and the words were mean, but not harmful. And I'm pretty sure things will be smoothed out. Perhaps another building permit on another peice of land. We'll see. Life in a small village is never boring, despite what you may think.
I just have to be careful to buy my eggs from both farmers.