Musings from a Cheeky Wench

Abandoned Blogger...

2011-03-21T00:41:00.000-04:00

I haven't updated this one in quite some time because of major technical difficulties. I've set up a new one on my website ... www.elysabethwilliams.com/blog

Feel free to come say hello over there!

Thanks

Everyday is Halloween

2010-10-26T11:05:00.000-04:00

It's the most wonderful tiiime of the year. Yeah, I think I've said it before. LOL I've waited all summer for this.

I don't really have much to say that would be profound right now. My brain is total mush since editing my first book through, edits for The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three (OMG 3 months to release date!)

But, it's Halloween.
It's always meant so much to me. A time to be someone else. A time for the parties and fun. On the spiritual side, it's a time to reflect and remember those who aren't with us. The physical side says it's time to appreciate the harvest and get ready for winter. It's time to break out the pumpkin spice lattes, the hoodies and the jeans that scrape the ground when you walk. It's time for hoarding candy...

Personally? It's time for music. Clubbing was the best around Halloween. Everyone is so stoked for the holiday season. They get to be someone else (or go all out as themselves!) and dress up.

But the Music and Dancing... it's been the only real religion I've ever identified with.

Are You Ready?

2010-10-04T18:03:00.000-04:00

October has arrived and the rest of the year is all down hill from here.

I know all my weekends from here to - uh - December - no wait... January are now quickly filling up. I probably won't be able to breathe until sometime next February. No wait, I'll be at Roundcon Gaming Convention in February - Come by and see me! So... Make that March?
I'm not complainy though. Summer was totally unproductive and as we slide into better weather, I'll wake up and take off at the speed of light.

I already have, actually.

This past weekend was full of late night bbq's with friends, the fair (also with friends and cotton candy, and a random evil parking lot bunny,) and a family reunion in another state.

Today, I'm stopping at Long and Short Reviews to blog. Be sure to stop and say hello.

This week I'll also update with a link as I stop over at The Pop Culture Divas to hang out and talk about Kilted Guys.

The 14th I'll be at Rachel Brimble's blog doing a little interview as well.

Next weekend will be another book signing (at the Book Worm in Powder Springs, People!)

Yeah.. I'll be coasting downhill until Spring.

To fill in the cracks of the week, I'm slowly going over my NaNoWriMo book in my head.

Oh yeah, babies.
It's coming.

That's right.
I will more than likely be working on a related book to The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three, (now with blurby goodness!) but don't hold me to it until November 1st. Bring on the Coffee and the Chewy Sweet Tarts! Bring on the BioFreeze and the wrist braces! Self induced hysteria is coming!

And one last squee of the day, here's my book trailer for Devil In A Red Kilt.

Whew.. I think I need a nap already!

Thursday is Fired, Some People are Still Nice & I still need a drink.

2010-09-30T15:51:00.000-04:00

It all started out a semi normal day.

Wake up at the ass crack of dawn to get the kids up, one on the bus and the other ready to go to a doctor's appointment by 9:30. My husband is driving my car because it's a bit more reliable to do his job, and I'm usually at home. I'm to borrow my sister's car - if I can get his car (the evil car) to her house.

So, off we go into the wild blue yonder of the Atlanta bypass and beyond in my sister's car. Doctor's appointment goes well. Lunch afterward was wonderful. I return my sister's car and pick up the Evil Car.

Evil. Car.

Evil Car is a beater 1991 Volvo. The seat is broken on one side so it actually faces more to the right side than the front. It can't be adjusted. The electrical system is jacked up, so the clock,r radio, the odometer, and most importantly... the gas gauge... don't... work...

As we drove out of the safety of my sister's neighborhood, the car started to sputter... Is it the engine or the gas? I didn't have time to get that answer in my head because not long after that, the stupid thing up and died on the side of a four lane.

My three year old and I take to the grassy side to walk to the nearest gas station, about a mile away.
Got a little ways down the street to a red light and an ANGEL drove up and asked if we needed help.
"I"m not a murderer! do you need help!?"
"I'm not a scammer! I need gas!"

Thank various gods this woman had a carseat in her car and we toodle off to the gas station. I'm not really sure what I said because the only thing that was going through my mind at the time was OMGOMGOMGOMGTHIS IS NOT HAPPENING.

:: sigh ::

Nice lady returns me to my car in one piece and not in several, and the handy Marietta PoPo roll up to lend a helping hand as well.

We all said YAY when the car cranked up (and I was internally freaking because my stomach was now not happy I had Mexican food not an hour before.. eeeek.)

I say thanks a thousand times to the nice lady and drove away back to the gas station to get more gas. Turn it off. Get Gas. Crank it again.

It won't crank.

!(@*#(#*$&(*!@$!!!

Call my BFF and freak again. Randomly crank the car and miraculously, it starts again. OMG WAT?
CUSS the Evil Car all the way home..

Well the nice part of this story is that I belong to a local forum and posted a 'thank you to the lady who helped me' post...
Someone saw it, and is a friend of hers.

Now, if I can find her, I want to say THANK YOU in a non-freaked-out way.
She mentioned buying my book, amongst the inane babble and now I just want to thank her by giving her a copy. It's the very least I can do.

There really are nice people in the world.
Sometimes you just have to be in a ditch to find them.

The wind has died down

2010-09-14T12:19:00.000-04:00

So... Everything went kind of nutty for August. Devil In A Red Kilt came out, I finished editing The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three (yes the second book will have a shorter name so you won't forget it in the middle of saying it,) and appeared at a book signing.

First -- The book signing was awesome! I had so much fun and saw so many people I haven't seen in yearrrrs. They came from all over. It was a blur! Two hours of signing my name and remembering what people said their names were gone in a breath. I do have to say, next time, I'll forgo the champagne toast. That made concentrating fuuuun. I'm so thankful for everyone who came. I spent the rest of the weekend in awe of you guys. Seriously. The book store was fantastic and actually invited me back for October 9th! I can't wait.

Fore more details on that, please see their website at http://www.thebookwormonline.com/ And if you're in the area, stop by and show them support! They rock! They'll probably even have a copy of my book on their shelf!

Second -- Editing the EEE3. Holy crapballs y'all. My editor rocks the mufuggin casbah. I never saw so many embarrassing mistakes in my life. I'm so grateful for having such awesome people working with me to make sure I don't look like a fool... He (@smoulderingsea, for those playing twitter at home) worked magic on my manuscript. From arguing about underwear to late night hysterics about Dos Equis and blowjobs... It was done. I less than three him. seriously. I hope I have the chance to work with him again.

I couldn't have done it with out all the wonderful people around me encouraging me to spew words into my computer. I really appreciate all the kindness (and evil) that's made me write. and keep writing.

So what's up now? I'm working on a few guest blogs (to be announced later!) and a short story. Come November I'll be writing a full length novel again. I. Can't. Wait.

Take care!

Are we there yet?

2010-08-17T09:40:00.000-04:00

YES. WE ARE! We're HERE!!

Monday was outstanding. I got my first reviews for DEVIL IN A RED KILT and also word that it's now available for pre-order! :: happy dance ::

I want to thank everybody for their support through all of this. I'm so grateful. I couldn't have done it without you guys.

Here's what reviewers have said so far:

Night Owl Reviews gave it 5 stars and a TOP PICK: " I got totally and completely lost in the characters. The plot and story idea is genius.... This was a book I couldn't put down once I started....I highly recommend getting lost in this wonderful book. Your going to fall in love with Evan, his Doc Martens, and Evie too."

The Long and Short of it Reviews gave it 4 books and said: "Sexy, Scottish, full of honor and integrity...
What a great, romantic story!"

I just can't stop staring at it. I'm so tired from being freaked out it doesn't feel real yet!

Not convinced?

Here's the blurb:

Their Happily Ever After
Deserved a Second Chance ...

For more than twenty years, Evan and Evie MacDonald were the couple “meant to be.” Their marriage now in tatters, they throw one final family Halloween party to honor Evie's recently deceased mother. But, as Evan's hand hovers over divorce papers, the ancient Celtic secrets Evie’s mother always spoke of spring to life.

Transported in flames to thirteenth-century Scotland, Evie and Evan land on opposite sides of the feud raging between Clans MacDonald and McLeod. Dubbed the Red Devil, Evan's skills as a leader and warrior bring him into the enemy camp - and back to Evie. Now, faced with an ancient evil they never imagined, the two must rekindle the “forever and ever” kind of love they once felt, and bargain for a bit of Fae magic to flip the hourglass right side up again - before time runs out.

Yeah? Okay??

You can pre-order your copy now at Black Lyon Publishing!

It's August 12th, do you know where your Devil is?

2010-08-12T13:47:00.000-04:00

I'm winding down the OMGOMGOMG countdown to the release of DEVIL IN A RED KILT. We're getting so close, people. I can barely contain myself.

I've peeked at the cover and it's awesome - I'm just not going to share.. neener. You'll just have to keep paying attention to my blog and tweets and facebookings to see... teehee. (I'm evil. I know. I get that a lot.)

Here's a sneaky peek at the blurb!

Their Happily Ever After
Deserved a Second Chance …
For more than twenty years, Evan and Evie MacDonald were the couple “meant to be.” Their marriage now in tatters, they throw one final family Halloween party to honor Evie’s recently deceased mother. But, as Evan’s hand hovers over divorce papers, the ancient Celtic secrets Evie’s mother always spoke of spring to life.
Transported in flames to thirteenth-century Scotland, Evie and Evan land on opposite sides of the feud raging between Clans MacDonald and McLeod. Dubbed the Red Devil, Evan’s skills as a leader and warrior bring him into the enemy camp—and back to Evie. Now, faced with an ancient evil they never imagined, the two must rekindle the “forever and ever” kind of love they once felt, and bargain for a bit of Fae magic to flip the hourglass right side up again—before time runs out.

LET THE FINAL WAITING REALLY BEGIN!

blissed out.

2010-06-30T11:35:00.001-04:00

Can you recall the last time you had a hysterically good time – laughing so hard your face ached? Excitement so great you screamed. Can you remember the last time you counted down the days on your calendar in anticipation of some event? Earth shattering news?

Can you count how many times you’ve fallen for someone? Can you remember the heart stopping moment of meeting that person for the first time and how your stomach flipped and hurt… add the fear of something organic flying out of your nose or something equally as inane… the initial attraction or burn of being in their presence, and the longing of seeing that person again? The ache in your fingers and other body parts to just. Be. Near.

And you can probably count on one or both hands (okay add some feet) how many times it’s happened in your life.

In... your… entire… life…

Think about it – we don’t get many opportunities to feel that elation or “blissed-out” feeling often in our lives. The sidesplitting, tear-wiping laughter doesn’t happen every day, nor the day counting, and neither does that heart-stopping lustful attraction of someone new. If you have, then you’re truly ahead of the game. For the most part, it seems people are hung up on obligations and mundane. I guess it’s needed and helpful to maintain sanity, but when do we really get to enjoy the bliss moments? Do we avoid them out of fear? Tiredness? Do we let others dictate what should be or not?

Recall the last time you really looked forward to something. Seeing someone new, a movie, a new song by your favorite band, a group of friends for a midnight outing.

Get out of the rut… don’t let anyone stop you or knock you down… Bliss yourself out.

Cafe Girl - Revisited - Part 5

2010-06-22T13:29:00.001-04:00

She ran for miles - ran until her heart felt as if it would burst. Stopping in the middle of a side street, she tried to catch her breath. It took a lot for her to shift, but life or death situations are … well … life or death situations.

She thought of the last time she’d shifted. She was ten and a man was trying to abduct her – to steal her away from her parents. If she knew at the time what really was going on, perhaps he would have survived and her life would be different. Alas, she didn’t, and the would-be-abductor laid in her little pink princess bedroom, bleeding out onto her stuffed animals, the same way the wolf was bleeding out onto the sidewalk.

With a sigh, she pulled a hair tie from her pants pocket and put her hair up into a loose bun, the stray locks falling around her face. She glanced around the neighborhood, focused on the long, one story building in front of her and remembered. This is where it all began - where she found out about The Conflict.

The elementary school, built in the 1950’s, was something reminiscent of a Rockwell painting. The large wooden desks that felt bigger than the kids were … though everything was huge when you were a child. The chalkboards were still green and the teacher’s favorite would get to bang erasers outside on the brick wall in the sunshine instead of doing busy work. She loved her teacher. A small, elderly woman named Miss Weathersby, who had to have been a hundred, but was still in love with her job. Miss Weathersby encouraged the girls to wear skirts or dresses and the boys to wear shorts and dress shirts. Miss Weathersby demanded manners. Miss Weathersby was the epitome of a perfect teacher wrapped in a grandmother’s body… a body found in the child sized bathroom a year ago, having been bludgeoned to death.

Taking a chance, she walked to the metal doors and peeked in the small window. It was empty. Everything was the same, as if time had skipped over the building. Crayon drawings and finger paintings lined the walls with masking tape, faded from the sun that shone through the blinds. She pulled on the door and heard the clank of the chain that wove between the curved handles. Grasping both hands around the cold metal, she jerked and the chain shattered into links, scattering all over the beige tile flooring of the main hall. She opened the door and stepped in, the stale-air breeze of glue sticks and construction paper permeating her nose. Tears welled in her eyes, as memories of this building flooded her senses. She treaded lightly down the hall, dragging her fingertips over the painted brick walls as she had as a child. She turned down another hallway, the light dim here without the aid of windows. She remembered this hall. The smell of industrial grade peanut butter was still strong as she slowly made her way to the cafeteria door. Before she reached it, something to her left caught her eye. A glitter-covered mural painted by thirty small handprints decorated the otherwise beige wall.

Unfamiliar tears sprung to her eyes again as she recalled being part of this mural. She remembered the excitement, the joy of being creative, and of being part of something to be remembered in the school for years to come. The permanence of it was so tangible when she was a child. She found her own handprint; blue and green paint swirled around silver glitter stars. Under it, the scrawl of her old handwriting, her name she’d tried to erase since she found out The Truth. The letters, complete with a backwards “s” written with a shaky paintbrush. Sage. Age 8.

Sage placed her palm to the print on the wall, so much older now it dwarfed the small one, and she yearned to hold that 8-year-old hand… to tell her not to worry. Things are going to get scary, but she will survive. She wished she could hug that child and tell her it would be okay. She backed away from the painting and looked at it in new, adult eyes. A tree trunk was painted growing up from a few sprays of green grass, with the children’s hands as the leaves; swirling with sparkly stick on rhinestones and glitter. It didn’t make sense then, as it was an innocent tree painting; but now it did. All the kids’ names that were on the tree, all but hers… belonged to children who shifted… children who were now dead.

A Friday Folly

2010-06-18T15:50:00.001-04:00

Today I've decided to go through the week and list five things that I really liked about the week, or five things that affected me somehow.... enough... to still remember by Friday.

1. Sherlock JudeLawInATopHat Holmes.

I watched this movie for the fortylebbenth time this week.
oh... dear.... Watson...

I don't have much else to say about this other than I really love this movie. I love the action and the snark and the hotness of RDJ and Jude. Of course I have to say I also like the idea of it being psuedo steampunk whether they wanna believe it or not. Just make a sequel already!

2. No News is No News... and New News is Sometimes Good.

I received word from my publisher that they're doing a photo shoot with a guy in a kilt next week for the cover of Devil in a Red Kilt. OH Yeah... details when I have them.

My mental interpretation of what kilted men should look like.

3. Stupid Twilight.

I watched Twilight again last night because I didn't want to watch Futurama, Beast with a Billion Backs again. (Don't ask.) SO I stayed up too late watching Stupid Edward and his ever changing hair height and stupid spastic blinking Bella.... until the credits rolled and I was so annoyed with the whole movie I picked up the STUPID book and started reading it again. Until 3am. I still have yet to figure out what it IS about that book that compels me. (but this picture sure is hot.)

4. I Hate Summer.

That's pretty self explanatory. I hate bugs, I hate sticky, I hate sweating,I hate mosquitoes, and I hate the humidity. I want to live in the Pacific Northwest (not forks, stupid twilight) and be in perpetual FALL.

I would feel differently, if I were here..

5. I wrote.

I wrote like a mad woman. I wrote until the wee hours of the morning and fell in love with my story all over again. I wrote about 5k words this week for the first time in months. It felt awesome. I have new hope that I'll finish this one before fall and clean it up for the end of the year.

That's it people.. see you again next week.

The books... they changed me.

2010-06-16T22:39:00.000-04:00

This started out as a post on The Books that Changed Me; however, it morphed into something else.

The house where I grew up was originally a two bedroom, one bathroom house built in the 60’s. It had a smallish, galley kitchen with olive green linoleum that led into a formal dining room one way, and a separate door that went into a wood paneled study. Parallel to the study was the living room where my grandparents’ living room suit and piano eventually sat. The rest of the house consisted of two bedrooms and the bathroom. It had a den added on and at some point after my parents moved in with my big sister; they converted the study in the middle of the house to a third bedroom. That became my bedroom.

My mom was a stay at home mom through most of my childhood. It was only when I turned eight or nine did she start working again - at the local county library. At this time, she would bring home stack after stack of books, sometimes drafting my sister and I into helping her schlep into the house. She would devour them daily, sending stacks back by the end of the week. Robert Heinlein was her favorite and my most remembered, followed by Douglas Adams and anything that had to do with the Foxfire series, which she eventually bought the entire collection and passed on to me.

During the school years, Mom would wake up with my Dad, drink coffee with him, and enjoy the silence. She would sit in the same spot on her grandfather’s sofa in the formal living room, beside my room. For some time, the head of my bed was on the same wall as where she sat. I would hear her click on the lamp and the ‘clunk’ of her coffee cup as she sat it down on the end table. The smell of Folgers’s would waft into my room... sometimes actually waking me. I could hear her shift on the rough, brown, diamond patterned upholstery, and sometimes even turn the pages of these books…perhaps I imagined the pages, but I know I still feel the safety of her always being there in that seat. She would sit there off and on all day, reading, drinking coffee, or mello-yello, depending on the time of year. It was a constant in my life.

When I started to read, I picked up whatever happened to be available at the house. While still very young, I read the normal Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume books along with my parents. When I started to read things I was more personally interested in, I read per her recommendation, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams and The Cat Who Walked Through Walls by Robert A. Heinlein. Another world, another galaxy even, opened up for me. Reading. I read all she had.

I started reading, what I guess would be called Young Adult now – and found Homecoming by Cynthia Voigt. It was the first book I can recall feeling really drained afterward. I loved the story, but I couldn’t imagine being left alone. I couldn’t imagine not having my mother or father there for me. It was foreign. I felt so much for those kids. I read the next one in the series, but it never reached the feverish pitch the first one had. They left me really sad and wanting more in a book.

When I turned 11, my mom was still working for the library and taking us to the local used bookstore where she had oodles of credit. She would take stacks of books she’d bought from the library sales or from the stores and swap them out. Over and over we’d go with her, lost in the halls of never ending shelves of never ending stories. The converted house was musty and vaguely dusty, filled to the ceiling with titles. I got lost in the romance section one day and pulled out one book that really looked like something. The cover was bright reddish-orange and the title letters were huge. There was a woman in a light colored, flowing dress held by a large, caped man on the back of a horse. I read the blurb and was captivated.

There, in the floor of the book house in a small Georgia town, I read the first few pages to The Wolf and the Dove by Kathleen Woodwiss and was forever changed on reading. Not really thinking of the sex, because come on, I was still eleven, I brought the book to my mom and showed it to her. She thumbed through it, read the back cover, and nodded approval. She never batted an eye. Just put it in the pile, she said. I remember the ancient (to me) woman behind the counter giving me a weird look. I didn’t realize why until after I’d finished the book.

It got so common for me to get romances; I would just come in and make a b-line to the section after only a wave to the clerk. Never once did they question on my reading choices.

Mom would bring me books home that she thought I’d like and after a time, we started trading. She still liked her sci-fi and I found my niche in romance. She always encouraged and never told me something was over my head or thought, perhaps we should wait. She told me she wanted me to love reading as much as she did. To realize there was more than the obvious, within reach and right in front of our noses.

Now that she’s passed on, I’m able to realize what books are to me. They are the safety of knowing she’d always be there with one on that uncomfortable 1940’s couch - the safety that there are words and worlds beyond what we see and a hope for better and ultimately, a happily ever after.

Thanks, mom.

Pining for Fall

2010-06-15T15:10:00.000-04:00

The higher level I become (because I refuse to say the older I get,) the more I realize I dislike summer. Some people get the blues during deep winter and I find myself enjoying them a little more. I like the shorter days. I like blue jeans and a hoodie. I like long sleeve shirts and boots with thick socks. Hot. Coffee.

No, my hands dislike the cold and I still want to be inside, however, living in the very humid south during the summer is just plain miserable.

Today it will probably reach 100 degrees. People on the left coast and in the desert probably want to slap me but oh my various gods it's really obnoxious out here. It's also 100% humidity at any given moment, so as soon as you step outside, you're sweating. The air feels like you're breathing water. It's heavy and everything is sticky. And by all that is holy I think leather or vinyl seats should be outlawed here. It's just evil.

So, when I hole up in the house because it's almost as hot inside as it is outside, I thumb through a random mail order catalog that already has Christmas or Halloween items listed. I sit in front of the window a/c and think of fall festivals and cider. I think of naked trees and seeing my breath in the dark while waiting on my kids' bus. I close my eyes and smell the leaves burning in burn barrels and new fall shows. Trick or Treating and birthdays.
New school years and back to school clothes.

As for this particular year, I'll be holding my breath and waiting for my 1st release, Devil in a Red Kilt to come out. Another story set in the fall - around my favorite time of year....a Halloween party and the cold winter of Scotland. Places and times that I so love.

So for now, I'll sit around in front of the a/c and wait out the hot. I hope you guys can stay cool too.

Lyrical Press Call for Submissions! Titanic Themed Line

2010-05-13T12:26:00.000-04:00

Passing this information along for writers to get their gears going!

Call For Submission: Titanic themed line

Genres: All

Sensuality level: All

Length: short (15 000 words) to novel-length (90 000 words)

Key characteristic: Must focus on the tragic maiden voyage of the Titanic

Deadline: November 30, 2010

Please follow Lyrical Press’ guidelines found here: http://www.lyricalpress.com/submissions when submitting. Send submissions to nerine@lyricalpress.com

Who among us hasn’t watched Titanic? Or at least heard about the ill-fated White Star Line passenger liner which sank four days into her maiden voyage on April 15, 1912? Harking back to the romance of a past age, the RMS Titanic was, at the time of her construction, the largest and one of the most luxurious passenger steamships in her time. More than 1 500 people perished when she struck an iceberg and sank—one of the greatest peace-time maritime disasters in history.

This event has been brought to life in film and fiction, a human drama that has captured the imagination of many. Each person aboard that ship had some story. Perhaps a down-at-heel Irish immigrant seeking a better life in America? A rich German countess enjoying a pleasure cruise with her lover? Or, what about an idealistic young steward proud of the start of his career aboard this Olympic-class liner? Whether they survived or perished, each person aboard that ship was part of a story, and we invite you to share your vision. Delight us with your tale of true love triumphing against all odds or share the despair of inescapable horror set against this dramatic backdrop playing out on the frigid Atlantic.

Lightning strikes twice...

2010-04-23T15:31:00.002-04:00

A week after I sold my 1st novel, I sold my 2nd!! (which was actually my 1st novel written.)

Yes, people.. Lightning can strike twice!

Making Time is coming soon to Black Lyon Publishing!

Finally. News.

2010-04-14T17:08:00.001-04:00

So there I was... I was cruising a background-check forum for a publisher that I submitted to back in the first part of March. I was concerned, because the auto-response I received said to check back after four weeks if you haven't heard anything.

Well, I was scared to poke a publisher, because that usually means... the poke of death. Rejection. Ugh. I couldn't stand the idea of yet another one.

Surprisingly, I got a very nice and unexpected private message from the publisher on that very forum that said essentially... oh no see, no one waits 4 weeks. Send us the information and we'll check on it.

Ok. YAY. A brief save. I sent the information and went about my business. I had to pick up some stuff on the other side of town so I went for a drive.

As I was driving along back roads of my neck of the woods, I stopped at a red-light and got the buzz from my phone that I had a new email.

FROM: Publisher
RE: Missing Submission.

......

Oh shit, here it is guys... it's either a pass or another fail.
I took a breath and opened it and the words blurred.

Acceptance.

Now I screamed so loud I scared the guy in the lane beside me. He mouthed, Are you ok?
Oh hell yes, I'm ok. I was so ok I told everyone I met for the rest of the day. I scared my husband on the phone.

Guys, it's going to happen. It's really going to happen.

The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three has been contracted and will be published by Lyrical Press, Inc.

Life happens.

2010-03-12T08:51:00.000-05:00

Due to the first Crohn's flare-up I've had in 5 years, I'm down for a while and I can't focus. I'm in some pain until I can get meds filled and my GI doctor contacted.

That being said, The Cafe Girl is going to have to wait a little while. Maybe I'll have a longer entry to add when I'm back on track.

Have a great and safe weekend.

Up, down, turn around... Please don't let me hit the ground...

2010-03-08T17:45:00.000-05:00

Tonight I think I'll walk alone; I'll find my soul as I go home...

It's finally 70 degrees down here in the south and I feel like I'm going to explode.

I've been lounging around outside, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, basking and stretching in the sun. I managed to score big at a local thrift store and bought egg shaped sidewalk chalk that the half pint and quarter pint are already fighting over. It's been a pretty cool day.

The Bradford Pears (the stinky trees) have buds, just... waiting. The Japanese Crepe-myrtles are right behind them.. again, just waiting. Everything is holding it's breath waiting for the okay from Mama Nature to just bust out the party for the year.

I know we have another cold snap coming before we can really see the change of season but today was just... pretty cool.

It doesn't come easy though, saying that.

I've somehow been conditioned to think if I talk about how beautiful the day is, or how wonderful things are, something will happen. Proverbial shoes will drop. Terrible things will happen to me or my family. Phone calls will be made and lives will be ruined. I can't say, "It's been a fanfuckingtastic day" anymore. It's not the best day evarrr anymore.

I wish I could pinpoint when I decided that I wasn't allowed.

...Each way I turn, I know I'll always try
To break this circle that's been placed around me
From time to time, I find I've lost some need
That was urgent to myself, I do believe

Up, down, turn around
Please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone
I'll find my soul as I go home.
~temptation/NewOrder

Cafe Girl - 4

2010-03-03T14:18:00.001-05:00

Taking a deep breath to slow her heartbeat, she wiped the sweat from her palm on her black leather clad thigh and offered it to the owner of the growl in the bushes. A furry muzzle emerged just enough to sniff it. The menacing growl rescinded to silence, but the air still hung heavy with tension. She gracefully shifted to all fours, her knees and palms pricked with the gravel of the pathway under the lightly covering snow. Locking eye contact with the creature, she bared her teeth. The skin on her arms began to shimmer iridescently, the tiny hairs vibrating from some outside force. Her blue eyes turned to silver as she hissed like an angry feline. The hidden animal growled with renewed rage and lunged from its hiding place, revealing an adult human sized, gray wolf with jaws open to attack, aiming for her throat. She leapt too, colliding with it in midair. Effortlessly, she grabbed it by the muzzle with both hands and slammed it down to the ground. She stretched the length of her body out, wrapping her thighs around its midsection as she twisted its head and heard the neck snap. It yelped futilely and went limp. Her features returned to normal as the blood from the animal seeped out onto the white snow. She stood and surveyed the area. Still, no one witnessed. She started to run.

Cafe Girl - 3

2010-02-23T10:49:00.001-05:00

The freshly fallen snow crunched under her black leather jump boots as she ran from the town square. The beat of her heart pounding in her ears and her ragged breath were the only noises that surrounded her. Streets were empty and the nearby houses were dark. Even after the mornings’ events, her mind was silent. She could only focus on her next stop. There was no room for remorse and definitely no time for indecisiveness. It had always been said, take action, and follow through. Show no weakness. Weakness equals death.

She glanced to her left at the park and changed course. The swings stood motionless. The playground was devoid of children’s laughter echoing off the nearby pine trees. The world had seemingly stopped. The one thought that popped into her head was simply, “I hope they’re okay. “

A low growl made the tiny hairs her nape stand. Her blue eyes dilated. Her instincts took over as she scanned the area, not breaking stride. Shifting her eyes to the wrought iron exit gate, she picked up speed and leapt over it with ease. Landing on the other side, she crouched down and peered under the bushes. Beady black eyes stared back at her. A sardonic grin crooked the corner of her mouth.

“Well, hello...”

Honest Scrap (aka: TMZ Expose)

2010-02-19T20:08:00.000-05:00

I've been handed the Honest Scrap Award by @SlushpileHero, so like the klutzy Olympic Torch Relay, join in to watch me to trip over my own feet and set the world ablaze with useless tidbits of my life.

Via Jeanne B.:

The rules? Simple. Reveal ten things you likely don’t know about me, then pass the award on to someone else I admire. They shall do the same, and it’s just a whole big pile of Honest Scrap!

1. I used to be a Go-Go dancer at a Fetish Club. No stripping here, people. I used to dance in huge stompy monster boots and vinyl booty shorts on a platform to industrial dance music. Dancing has always been therapy to me. I could lose myself in the music and get my best thinking done. I miss it.

(me, on the right, circa 1998)

2. I used to play Live Action Role Playing games. Yes, dears, I used to spend my time in the woods hitting people with birdseed packets (like you throw at weddings - but not break them open) and PVC plumbing pipes wrapped w/ foam and duct tape... wearing elf ears...and um, painting my face different colors... Nothing like spending your teen/early 20's in a state park with 500 of your closest friends for three days in a row, once a month.

3. I once when to Scotland to meet boys I met on AOL. That's all I have to say about that. ;)

4. I met my husband at the aforementioned Fetish Club. He could dance, he was hot, and we (being natives to Atlanta, the gayest city in the country, no lie) we assumed he was not playing for our team. So, while me, my straight girl friend and my gay roomie were standing there, we figured, hey, we need to check him out. My girl friend went to talk to him (for my gay roomie) and found out lo and behold, he was straight! (shock! awe!) Well, being the girls that we are, straight, muthafuckin'dancemachine cute boy has to belong to one of us, because.. damn, that's a hot commodity! My girlfriend went out with him and decided he talked too much. she doesn't "do" chatter. Hot damn, my turn! I can chat to a brick wall. We went out the next weekend.. did a walk of shame after a late night of Waffle House...About a year later we got married.

5. I've been pagan since I was 12 years old. I don't really identify with anything else. Unitarian Universalism is about the only thing close.

6. I used to live on the Indian Reservation in Cherokee, NC. I lived with my boyfriend in a house behind the casino, where I worked as a cage cashier. I loved that job too. It was one of the homiest places I've ever lived and miss the mountains.

7. I have had a complete conversation with Scott Wieland from Stone Temple Pilots and didn't realize who he was until the next day. (AKA the story of "why Cheeky should wear her contacts when she goes out dancing, no matter what.") I thought he was a bouncer that I knew from the club and just sat down at the bar beside him and started chatting away. His friend beside him was looking at me like I was nuts, but that's not abnormal, so I just ignored it. Well, we talked for about 15 minutes, hugged goodbye, and I went on about my night. The next morning while I was driving to work, I was listening to the radio and the announcer started talking about an interview he had with Scott the night before, at the same club... and how he loved Atlanta so much because people treated him like a normal guy... and then proceeded to talk about me. *facepalm*

8. I have super duper pagan babies... My first born was born on Halloween. My second born was born on Summer Solstice.

9. I dislike chocolate. It makes me sick to my stomach. I prefer sweet tarts, spree, nerds, and sour patch kids, if I'm craving sweet stuff. I also don't really like ice cream either.

10. I got Glenn Danzig slapped by his girlfriend at Dragon*Con once. I was walking through the lobby and dropped my shawl down my back as I walked away from him. I looked over my shoulder and saw him staring at my ass. So did his girlfriend. *SMACK.*

Well, I guess that's it. Totally useless facts about me. Thanks for tagging me in.. and now I'm going to tag out to... @JordanDrew, because I'm sure she'll lurve me for it. HA!

Cafe Girl Part 2

2010-02-16T12:59:00.001-05:00

I've decided to try a serial here, based on the 100 word challenge I did a while back about the cafe girl. I had a lot of feedback and thought to expand. I'll be doing a weekly thing, so stay tuned for posts.

~~~

Stepping over the body in the floor, she tiptoed to the counter. Knowing good and well there was no one left to take the money, she still pulled a five-dollar bill from her pants pocket. She tucked it under a stapler beside the register. With a sad smile, she turned and looked around the room. Glasses were broken, coffee cups everywhere, spattered with blood. The lone server lay under her table. Briefly, she closed her eyes. There was nothing more to do here. The Cleaners would arrive and know what to do. She opened the front door of the café and looked around. The snow stopped falling abruptly. It was as if God himself knew she was peering out and refused to let her witness His beauty, or perhaps even He was frightened of her. Either way, it was no matter. She stepped outside, her lungs suddenly splintering from the cold air that rushed in. Acting more efficiently than a triple espresso, her senses perked and she breathed deep in relief. Awake, finally. She now noticed the streets were empty. The neighboring stores, deserted. Feeling more secure about continuing without another incident, she began the trek back home.

copyright elysabeth williams 2010

Valentine's Day, Odd Songs & The Mortgage Co.

2010-02-14T12:23:00.000-05:00

On Twitter, I found (via @booksbelow) this fun article; a Craigslist-esque Victorian Personal Ad from the late 1800's, posted on the New York Times. Goes to show you, some things never change.

However, SOME things do. I was standing outside a huge gas station yesterday. One of those places that has flat panel tv's piping in music or commercials the entire time you pump gas. I've never really paid any attention to them, as I feel the gas station should be one place where you should be paying attention to what's going on, instead of zoning out to whatever drivel they're trying to peddle.
Absentmindedly, I was singing along to the song that was playing, not really giving any thought about it until I got to the chorus...

"Take the skinheads bowling, take them bowling... "

Wait, what!?
Am I really listening to this song at the gas station? I had to snicker-giggle because it just was that odd... standing out in the snow in a Walmart singing along to Camper Van Beethoven.

And lastly; Today, the loviest of lovey days, I get a phone call from the Mortgage Company, telling me my payment is due. I like to call it, the Captain Obvious moment du jour.

MC: We'd like to talk to you about your mortgage account.
Cheeky: Sure. Is there something wrong?
MC: No, we would just like to extend the offer to let you make the payment over the phone.
Cheeky: No thanks. I'll pay it online like I have for the last seven years.
MC: Yes, I see that you've been doing that. Would you like to pay for it on the phone?
Cheeky: No.
:pause:
MC: Well, um. Your payment is due on the 1st and see it's the 14th.
Cheeky: My terms say I can make payments up until the 16th without penalty, is that wrong?
MC: No, Well it IS due on the 1st but yes, you have until the 25th before we contact the Credit Bureau.
Cheeky: Why are you calling me then?
:awkward silence:
Cheeky: I'm not giving my information to you over the phone to make a payment that is not technically late yet because you want me to.
MC: Is there a reason why you pay it the same time every month?
Cheeky: That's when We get paid.
MC: :pause: All right, then.

Cheeky: I guess that's it then?
MC: Yes... I guess... have a good day.
Cheeky: You too.

I hung up the phone in giggles, and actually made the O.o face in conclusion.

Well, I'm wishing, the happiest of Valentine's Days to everybody, whether you chose to participate or not. ::poke poke::

Hope Springs Eternal.

2010-02-10T23:21:00.001-05:00

Okay, misleading title.

Spring hopes are eternal. Or at least static... or, at the very least fleeting.

It's frickin' cold and I'm hoping for Spring. Is that better?

I'm waiting on some answers from a few publishers regarding my first work, Making Time. The wait is aging me by years. As soon as the answers roll in, I'm sure to be ancient.

Other than that, I have three writing projects to do in the next few weeks. One is a personal introduction on isca media's site and then two more music reviews for Hybrid Magazine.

And if you notice to the right, I have added Tidbits; more about me, your local Wench, and two blurbs.
Oh, and that chick staring at you in the Facebook page wants you to add yourself as a fan. ;)

Keep refreshing. Something might pop up.

I hope everyone is safe, warm, and dry.

Thirty.

2010-01-25T00:30:00.004-05:00

When I turned twenty-five, I stared down the face of thirty. Fear was palpable. I slid down my last half of my twenties in a haze, landing at my dreaded age with arms full of a newborn. I always heard, if you blink, it would become ten years later. I’ve blinked, and I now stare down forty, standing in the middle of my thirties. The fear has not waned. I stand here with two children now, one in school and the other giving sass. I force my eyes wide to let the air dry them out, petrified to blink again.

another 100 word challenge from velvetverbosity's site.

What's in a Name? The follow up

2010-01-19T07:28:00.000-05:00

I posted a call for help to find a last name Monday night and the response was overwhelming! My Twitter feed blew up and comments kept coming from my facebook accounts and in email. I was giddy with all the replies.

As the result, I've decided to go with Jackson Mallory. (As my friend Jordan Drew put it, the word 'mal' is Latin for bad, or evil. I like that. It goes well. ;) )

Other suggestions have been written down and saved for later;especially one for Quinn from Lindsay Jackson on Twitter. I really liked that name and want to use it somewhere. It might actually be a main character's first name. I haven't decided where he goes yet.

Thanks again for all the replies, You guys are great!

What's in a name?

2010-01-18T20:21:00.001-05:00

There's a man in my head. His name is Jackson.
Jackson, or Jack, is a young man in his twenties. He's showing me a glimpse of his life from the late 1890's. I already know a lot about Jack, but he's not telling me his last name.

That's where you come in, reader.
What's Jackson's last name?

::Editing for questions: The story is set in the UK, but he's a wanderer. His past is a bit unknown ;)

To go forward or move away.

2010-01-10T02:27:00.000-05:00

Is my first 100 word challenge entry interesting enough to continue? I may try to do another hundred word entry (either with or without VelvetVerbosity's official challenge,) because it was really neat to write. Very compact. It felt like a puzzle. I love puzzles.

I wonder if I could make it into a serial.... a hundred words at a time...

Would you care enough for it to come see, or shall I do it just for me?

It's my first time... be gentle.

2010-01-07T00:41:00.001-05:00

@VelvetVerbosity on twitter has stared at me pointedly to take part in her 100 word challenge. I thought I might give it a shot. Here's the result.

She tucked a stray strand of inky black hair behind her ear as she stared out the café window into the snow drifts. The flakes fell silently like a blanket being laid over a sleeping infant. Taking a deep breath, she took a sip of the bitter brew she held; the hazelnut flavoring tickling her nose. Her hands shook slightly as she glanced to see blood caking under her fingernails. Putting the cup down, she picked up a nearby napkin to try and clean them. She kicked the body lying at her feet. He should’ve known she preferred black coffee.

Redrum.. and Edward Cullen.

2009-12-16T12:56:00.000-05:00

Dh's surgery went well. He's home and resting, though I'm not sure how much rest he's actually getting since the rest of us have the galloping-never-getovers.Who planned for us all to get sick at the same time as his surgery? I didn't order that.

It's been interesting to see how we (the girls and I,) interact while he's hanging out. There's lots of noise and mess making, and he's usually at work, so he's a little out of his element. Now he's in the middle of it and it's kind of humorous. Though at one point today, he decided to teach quarter pint how to say "Redrum." I counteracted that with putting the BK "New Moon" crown on her head. Now we're equal on the creeped-out-ness.

So now I'm staring at my abandoned edits wondering when I'll be able to get back to them. They're so lonely. But I'm so desperately full of snot and tiredness.

I'll get there.. eventually.

This time, it's personal.

2009-12-02T12:33:00.001-05:00

This time last year, my Mom died of pneumonia very quickly and left us all in shock. This year my husband will have four vertebrae fused in his neck and will be unable to work for at least six weeks and will not be able to drive for four to eight months. We're all stressed out around here, but trying to stay sane and enjoy the gearing up of the holiday season. The surgery hasn't happened yet and I'm already at wits' end.

Incidentally, he will be having the surgery on the same day my mother died.

When I remembered I was freaked out.

Then I had to remember something a very wise woman told me in June of 2001;
"Don't let one day cast a shadow on someone's entire life. One day out of many does not define who they were." On June 20, 2001, my then fiance (the wise woman's oldest son,) died in a car crash. I was stuck in a haze for years.

On June 20, 2007, my youngest daughter was born. A day that was once nightmarish to me became one of the most blessed days of my life.

Now, I remember December 10, 2008 as the day I held my breath when I heard the words said by my sister, "she passed." While I remember it on December 10, 2009, I'll be driving to another hospital to hold my breath again.

So as I'm sitting here self absorbed, pissed off at the world and thinking everyone is paying attention to only themselves, I'm interrupted by a squeaky "yeehaw" from the other side of the room.

I look up from the computer to see my precious child who was born on what was the worst day of my life, riding a stick horse with a cowboy hat saying "yeehaw."

I'm okay again.

DING!!

2009-11-19T12:05:00.000-05:00

Yep. I did it. I tackled the monster that is NaNo. I stayed up way too late last night and put a middle and an end on that sucker. Now I have to go back and add stuff, take stuff out, burn stuff, slap myself over stuff, and fill in the car sized plot holes.

I can't wait to expand the story now that I don't feel like I'm going to just explode from deadline pressure.

Total word count last night when I stopped was 50,282. I'm sure it will be more once I get in there and fix things, but that was my finish line score after 19 days working.

It's been a ton of fun and already ordered my victory t-shirt. Can't wait to take a picture of me in it. (yes I'm vain.)

If you're still plugging away, you can do it! Almost there!

Oh why not..

2009-11-17T23:26:00.000-05:00

How about an excerpt? I'm feeling bold.

from the Electrifying Exploits of the English Three:

Devin flipped the lid of the little velvet box closed and stood from his knees. He returning it to his pocket and wandered slowly out of Jillian's garden. He walked around the corner of her house and saw a black carriage with black curtains roll slowly by her townhouse. He kept walking, keeping an eye on it the entire time, concern growing within his stomach. It rolled to a stop. The curtain opened slightly, and someone peeked out from behind it, looking up toward Jillian's bedroom window. Devin narrowed his eyes on who it could be, slowing his pace to a stop. The carriage started again and continued on slowly. Devin turned around at the next road and started to jog back in the direction of Jillian's house. He jumped behind the bushes and climbed up to the front door, trying to remain hidden in the recess of the door. He rang the door bell and pounded with his fists. He glanced behind him to see that the carriage had almost returned. Devin rang the door bell again and pounded one more time, and in mid pound, Barty opened the door and scowled at him.
"Miss Johnsworth does not wish to see you, Mr. Dashing," he said, trying to shut the door on him.
Devin shoved his foot in before it closed. "Barty, there is someone rounding the corner coming back this direction. Please believe me when I say that I think someone intends to do Miss Johnsworth harm."
Barty stepped aside and let Devin in without another question.
Devin stood against the wall in the parlor looking out the window, trying to remain obscured by the lace curtains.
Barty turned away from him and went upstairs, leaving Devin there. A few minutes passed and the carriage was still parked; the mystery person peering out to Jillian's room, now with a slender telescoped object.
Jillian came down the stairs and stared at him. "What are you doing in my parlor, Mr. Dashing? Barty said there was someone watching my house?”
"Yes, please do not get near the window. They seem to be looking toward your bedroom. I do not know what they have. "
Jillian scoffed. "And they do not know what I have, Mr Dashing." She strode to the mantle piece and pulled down the giant blunderbuss. It was nearly as tall as she was.
Devin's eyes widened. "Is that thing real?"
“Quite.”
She pulled the bolt out to the side and back and it slid into place and it sprung to life. With one click, the metal wire that encircled it glowed blue and white, humming angrily. Jillian walked leisurely to the door and opened it, seeing the black carriage sitting directly in front of her house.
"Jillian! Do come away from there!" Devin yelled, jumping over a table to get to her. She placed the stock of the gun over her shoulder. Devin watched as it curved and melded exactly to the contour of her arm. With no panic in her motions, she closed one eye and looked down the barrel of the gun, aiming for the carriage. The curtain opened again and Devin saw an ordinary muzzle sticking out aimed at her. As he jumped toward her to pull her out of harm's way, she braced her left foot in front of her and pulled the trigger. A burst of electricity shot out the end of the gun and hit the side of the carriage, knocking it almost completely over. Completely unfazed, Jillian pulled back the bolt on the side and cocked it again, ready for another shot. The horses began to buck and the passengers screamed as the coach went running down the street away from her house with the back end on fire. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, she went to the door and leaned out, making sure no one had seen or heard. She closed the door and returned the blunderbuss to the mantle.
Devin stood in the middle of the foyer, his hands held out bracing himself against the wall, mouth hanging open to what he just witnessed.
"Mr. Dashing, since you are here, would you like a cup of tea?"

Running to Stand Still

2009-11-17T16:44:00.001-05:00

I have been meaning to properly update my blog. Instead, I've been plugging away furiously at what is a giant mess of my NaNo project. . There are coherent thoughts in there somewhere, but right now I'm typing so fast I don't even see them.
I keep seeing my little nano bar go to the right, slowly inching away the word count to 50k. Though I feel like I'm just treading water in the middle of the ocean. There's no land to be seen in any direction. I hear there's some magic land of 50k, but right now, I'm hoping I have 12k left in me to make it through.

I am really in love with the story, and hope to take time later to fill it out to something else. The characters are hysterical to me, and I hope I'm going to spend some quality time with them, instead of the speed dating variety we're experiencing now.

In WoW terms, it feels like I'm grinding away in Stranglethorn Vale trying to make it to lvl 50.

I'll ding though, dammit. Imma gonna.

goofing off.

2009-11-11T12:24:00.002-05:00

Girls, they wanna have fun.

2009-11-10T20:20:00.000-05:00

Hey, just thought I would throw up another excerpt from the work in progress. Hope you enjoy.

Barty returned with a curved metal bar in one hand and a glass tumbler full of whiskey in the other. He handed both to Jillian. “Is there anything else I can be of service?”
    “Not yet, Barty. Though we may need help getting this thing open, so stay close. I also may need another one of these,” she held up the glass.
    “Very well,” Barty said as returned to the kitchen. Jillian downed the whiskey with a shudder while the other ladies snickered. She put the tumbler down on the small side table and fanned herself with the newly added heat from the liquor. The three ladies gathered around the giant wooden crate and stared.
    “What do you suppose it is?” Jillian asked as she wedged the bar into the first set of slats.
    “I have not a clue, Jilly,” Eliza said, pulling on the slat with her hands to help. With a crack the board set free and they peeked inside.
    “What, in the name of all that is holy, is that?” Miriam whispered.
    “I have no clue, friend. Let us pry faster.” Jillian dug into another slat and pulled it free. Then another, and another and another. After the first side of the crate was opened, all three women stood with their mouths agape, looking at the spherical hunk of brass inside. Eliza peered in and poked a red button on the top. It fizzled and whirred to life. Two copper spring legs popped out of the bottom and the force of the push broke the top of the crate. Wood flew everywhere as the ladies backed away from falling splinters. The top of the sphere clicked and a circular section arose and spun around, revealing red glowing lights, in the shape of eyes. Other brightly colored lights began to blink along the sides, illuminating various buttons. They continued to back up as the sphere walked out into the middle of the parlor and stood. With a hiss, the legs disappeared into the body and it fell to the ground. All the lights shut off and again it was nothing more than a five foot tall brass ball in the middle of the parlor.
    “Barty, I think we are all going to need another drink in here,” Jillian called over her shoulder.
    “Yes, Madam,” he replied in an unsurprised, monotone voice.
    They all three stood in front of the thing and stared at each other. Eliza walked to the mystery and turned to her friends. “What exactly did the Colonel think we could do with this?”

Cover Lust. I has it.

2009-11-08T00:38:00.000-05:00

My husband crafted this cover for my newest work in progress. I loves it.

Has it only been Four Days?

2009-11-04T16:21:00.000-05:00

Seriously? Have I only been writing this NaNo mess for Four Days? I have fortyonethousandninehundredandfiftyeight words left to write.
Holy. Fargin. Shite.
That's a ton of words.
I'm averaging a day ahead, but I feel like warmed over ass and still have at least 1,600 words to go for today. I'm hoping I can keep up this pace.
In the meantime, I've had a lot of fun hammering out these characters and their motives. I did switch back to the Victorian era idea since I had already done a little research. The story is flowing pretty easily when I do have the time and attention span to - LOOK A KITTY :: scampers off::

Someone fit me for one of these. I may need it next week.Or later this afternoon.

I'll leave you with a tidbit from the monstrosity. Have a great week.

Excerpt: The Electrifying Exploits of the English Three
At Silas Willoughby's house, Jillian excused herself from behind the piano and took her handbag to the bathroom. A tiny tinkling chime emitted from her purse and she opened it to pull out an ear piece identical to Eliza's. She clipped it to her ear, twisted the screw, waiting for the cogs to spin.
“Hello, Eliza?” she spoke quietly into the golden stem.
“Yes, Jillian. I cannot talk long. I received the missive from Colonel Cuthbert.” Her voice was static ridden through the device, but Jillian could make out what she was saying.
“Cuthbert? What does he want this time?”
“He hasn't given me many details, but there is a Countess Millicent Wilmont who needs attending to. I could not wait to get out of Silas' house to call.”
“Millicent Wilmont? The crazed old bat who tried to burn down parliament because it smelled like day old fish?” Jillian listened as Eliza laughed.
“Yes, one and the same. She has decided to take it upon herself to rid us of the new Tower Bridge.”
“Well, why ever for?”
“That, I am afraid I do not know, dear friend. I will have to find out from Col. Cuthbert.”
“This should be a fun task.”
“Indeed.”
“How is the rest of the dinner party?”
“Dreadful. Devin Dashing has finished his newspaper and has been staring at me for the past quarter hour as if I am but a scone to be eaten. Silas keeps going back into this office and returning, most annoyed. Where did you find the missive this time?”
“In his office.”
“Naturally! That's why he's annoyed. He probably thinks you stole something.”
“Oh, posh. He has nothing in there to steal.”
“Only his virtue,” Jillian quipped with a snickering smile. She listened as Eliza laughed again.
“I should turn this thing off before my driver thinks I've gone mad.”
“Shall I come tomorrow morning to discuss the details?”
“Yes, do. Send word to Miriam as well. We shall meet around noon.”
“Noon? Why so late?”
Eliza cleared her throat. “I have a prior engagement.”
“Oh, do tell. Has the Mr. von Wilstrom returned, then?”
“Jillian, please. He shan't grace my doorstep again. I only await the powers that be to grace a divorce to me so that I can be done with him.”
“Eliza, really? You think he would really divorce you? Whatever would people say?”
“I do not care what they say. I figure, after the next assignment the Colonel puts us through, I shall have enough income to support myself. Perhaps I'll go overseas.”
“You cannot leave me!”
Someone knocked on the door to the restroom and Jillian dropped her voice. “I have to go, someone is here. I shall see you at noon.” She took the ear piece out and tucked it back into her handbag, the little device's cogs slowly spinning to a halt.
“Ms. Johnsworth, are you all right?” She heard Mr. Dashing on the other side of the door.
“Quite. I was just over heated from the parlor. I needed to refresh myself.” She stepped out to come face to chest to the man. He took a step backwards, allowing her to exit.
“My apologies. I did not mean to intrude on your privacy.”
“No bother. I was just about to call for my carriage.”
“Do you have an escort this evening?”
“Why of course, I always do.” Her tone was defensive. Devin Dashing bowed again and allowed her to pass. As she walked back into the the main foyer to summon her traveling maid, Mr. Dashing peeked into the bathroom to see if there was someone else in there with her. He frowned as he found no one and returned to the parlor.

Right Turn, Clyde.

2009-10-28T20:28:00.000-04:00

I'm having NaNo cold feet. I'm furiously planning to plunge headlong into a different view of Victorian England, yet... Yet.. there's this other thing going on in my noggin that might be fun too. My muse took an unexpected Right Turn.

It's something more pulpy. Something more... Casablanca/Indiana Jones meets Charlie's Angels. What about three Jessica Rabbit looking ladies out to conquer the 1950's world with derringers hidden in their cleavage and tommy guns hidden... uh.. look, I'm just throwing things out here, okay? Work with the Wench ;)

I've been googling again, basically. And now my brain is full of ideas and none of them want to cooperate with each other. I think I have a general idea of what I want to happen and who needs to star in it, but I'm not sure what time frame it should be in. I guess I'm more comfortable with what's happened in my own country in the last 60 years than a long time ago.. in a galaxy... er, country, far far away...

We'll see what spews forth come November 1st, I suppose. Stay tuned.

Who's on First.

2009-10-26T21:48:00.000-04:00

No, really.. WHO is on first!?

Here's the way the story rolls today.
Mason, meet Ash. Ash meet Riordan. Riordan meet Mason.

Riordan, be witty, sexy, and mysterious. Mason, be dark, hot and broody.
Ash, be a heroine and kick everyone's ass and take no prisoners... and do it with style, would ya?

What I thought was going to be a story about Mason and Ash turned into Ash and Riordan? Is this his story? Does Riordan need to be the guy in charge or Mason? Does Mason ride off into the sunset and pick up some other girl on the way by? Or does Riordan step aside from Ash to give him a chance? Does Ash say "to hell with you both," and start up her own Murder For Hire business in the deep south?

I seriously don't know. Pesky Pesky.

This is what I get for picking up a manuscript I haven't looked at in a month, less than a week before NaNoWriMo. Now my fingers are all itchy to figure out Who's On First and I can't spend too much time with them after the first of November. Well, obviously I could (and probably will,) but I probably should have left well enough alone.

What have I done?

2009-10-13T18:18:00.001-04:00

Well, as you've hopefully seen on my website, I'm trying out NaNoWriMo this year and I'm a bit nervous. I've never really pushed myself to do anything specific when it came to writing. I tend to write as it comes to me. I write furiously as the muse is chatty and then when its silent... it's very silent. I could go for days without writing something.

So, NaNo is going to be a test. I have to finish the revisions I've been putting off for my first manuscript by the 31st. Not only is it a test of my deadline abilities, I've decided I'm going to try something completely new in terms of storyline. I tend to stick with the paranormal (non-vamp) genre, because I feel that I know it. But if I'm taking risks, and it's really just for me, why not?

My plot is going to be something I know little about and in a genre I've never written in. Sci-fi/Fantasy. Steampunk in specific.

Yes, Virginia. I've jumped the brass goggled shark.

I'm very interested in the whole thing; fashion, gadgets etc, and I just wanted to feel the tiniest bit involved in the scene, as it were.

I figure, if I'm going to push myself for a month, why not go all out. Push myself to finish my first work completely. Push myself to write an entire novel in 30 days, and choose a genre I will have to force myself to learn about in the process.

I may post excerpts of the steam powered train wreck so keep an eye on updates.

P.S. If I fail, will you still love me?

50.6 degrees, how I love thee.

2009-09-29T09:23:00.003-04:00

There's a certain charge in the air today. It's crisper and cleaner. The summer haze has lifted and the leaves are starting to fall. The writing spiders are making MORE babies, help me, but they're writing their testament to Autumn.

Here in the South, I can finally breathe for a moment when summer has finally passed. I can stretch my limbs and feel awake, like a strong cup of coffee kicking in. It's my favorite time of year.

Rooted back to new school year, new clothes, new boyfriends, new leases on apartments, new babies - Autumn has always been my signifier of rebirth - and now, revision.

Last night I pulled out my completed manuscript for the first time in months, having 'seen' what needs to be done to hopefully make it stand out. Looking at it for the first time was frightening, actually. I was nervous that I would be embarrassed by it. Instead I read certain parts and remembered how I felt when I wrote it. I remembered the connection I had with the characters and it all flooded back. I missed them.

I'll be working on it for a while and now I'm okay with that. It's turned into an awkward visit with an old flame.

...He focused his eyes on spreadsheets and heard the latch click. He exhaled in relief and looked up. Ms. Smith was still standing in his office, her back pressed against the door. Her sheer white blouse was unbuttoned to her navel, showing off her lacy, cream colored bra that barely held her breasts. It wasn't that she was unattractive. She was young, single, and willing. It was that he was married, no matter how unwilling his wife seemed. Evan's frown deepened and he swallowed hard.

“Ms. Smith, this is inappropriate. Please leave.” He glared at her, forcing himself not to let an eye wander from her large, doe-eyed gaze.

Instead of complying, she walked closer. “Mr. MacDonald. Evan... I need to tell you something,” she whispered, leaning over the desk, her cleavage directly in Evan's face. The heat from her skin made Evan's body react in ways in which he was immediately ashamed....

Music Review: Marilyn Manson - High End of Low

2009-09-14T06:45:00.001-04:00

New Music Review of Marilyn Manson : High End of Low at Hybrid Magazine, under the Link

The Crystal Method - Divided By Night

2009-09-08T06:50:00.001-04:00

See the Full review under this link

Lancelot was an arse.

2009-09-07T19:47:00.002-04:00

What in blazes am I going on about, eh?

Honestly I had a moment in my new work (not the weird vampy one, but the other one, you know. You know, right?) Where she compares herself to the Lady of Shallot. If you're not familiar with the work It's about a lady who was cursed by some unknown force to be unable to leave her tower, or be able to even see out her window without fear of something unknown. Well, to spoil the ending, she does leave her tower because she sees Lancelot, and cannot, for the life of her, quit thinking about him.

She makes her way down to the castle of Camelot and dies, practically at his feet.

And in the last stanza he says:

"Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they cross'd themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."

That's all he has to say about her. She risked her life to see him, and yet.. he just says "yeah she's pretty."

aaaassssshole.

There's a comparison I'm making in my story where heroine feels she is the Lady of Shallot watching the hero and his family in their natural surroundings in their personal Camelot. She's uncomfortable, having no family of her own to speak of, while he exists in a very loving, very close knit family, all the while hoping she will not meet her demise while near him and for the love of gods that her hero is not... Lancelot, (the arse.)

We'll see how it plays out.

New Music, New Muse

2009-08-14T14:10:00.002-04:00

On the review front, I just received Crystal Method's latest release, "Divided By Night" and Marylin Manson's "The High End of Low." Can't wait to give a good listen and review. Stay tuned for links on my feelings on both.

Earlier this week I was minding my own business, listening to the new Julian Plenti release "Julian Plenti is... skyscraper" (which by the way, Julian Plenti is..... sofarkinghot) when my thoughts were interrupted by some hipster guy standing on a corner, somewhere in NYC. He was smoking a cigarette and brooding. He's old but doesn't look old. He was shaggy haired and Chuck Taylor wearing. Skinny pants... you know the type.

He was demanding all my damn attention and I have no idea why. He's still in my head, lurking in the shadows. He's apparently got fangs and goes by Patrick. He was born around 1925 and changed during the second World War. I have no clue why he wants to hang out in a bar, smoke, and chase after female band members while drinking loads of beer either.

I wish he would get it out already so I can get on with my life. Perhaps a short story is in order, simply because I told myself I wouldn't write about vamps. They're really not my taste. They're really inundated right now. A very close friend has been also been writing about them since probably 1980... I don't want to appear to be following a trend... But this one guy... I really wish he would either spit it out or get lost.

Nail Polish and Awesome Sauce

2009-07-14T13:23:00.004-04:00

I was tweeting with @christinerose (author of Rowan of the Wood ) about the brand "Claw Polish" earlier today and thought to google the company who makes it to see what I could dig up. They are from a company called "Fright Nights" that you usually find only around Halloween in drug stores/Hellmart.

Last year I waited and stocked up on black and purple nail polishes because they were around 75 cents per bottle on clearance. And by far, they have some really good coverage and the stuff dries QUICK. I mean, lightening fast in terms of polish. I have two little kids and I just don't have time to sit and blow on nails anymore.

I did find a small (yet cute) website for the company but they only had hair dying tips and false eyelashes listed. So, I sent an email from their contact info to the company asking if they were going to sell the polish around Halloween. Assuming I would just receive a generic response in a few days that said yes or no, I was very surprised when I came back to check my email a few minutes later.

I received this response in record time:

Dear Beth,
Thanks so much for your inquiry. We will be shipping Claw Polish again,
however we have limited distribution this year. Because of the
mass-appeal that Wet n Wild has, retailers choose to carry their polish
instead.

It's always nice to hear when someone loves your product, so send me
your address and I will send you out a couple of bottles of polish. I
don't know if you happened to also pick up our VooDoo (red glitter) top
coat, but it looks awesome over the black... I'll throw in a bottle of
that to just to try out.

Have a great day!

Awesome Sauce.
Sad they have to limit distribution due to Wet n' Wild, but I'll take my freebies.

What great customer service. I'll definitely be keeping an eye out for them later on in the season.

To Lose My Life

2009-07-14T10:59:00.001-04:00

New White Lies music review is up at

Hybrid Magazine

Day of Fear and Loathing

2009-07-06T12:33:00.002-04:00

When exactly do birthdays morph from being the happiest day of your life to the day of fear and loathing? I haven't quite figured it out but I'm pretty sure it was around my 30th birthday. Birthdays have, up to that general point, have been happy. I don't know what prompted the change but now I actually dislike my birthday. They're full of disappointment and failed expectations. They're full of mortality and 'have not's."

Of course, I'm not as emo as all; I'm happy to be here, happy to have decent health, happiness, loving children, wonderful husband... but dammit. I'm another year older. "Over the hill." haha. It's not fucking funny. I don't believe it ever was, and I sincerely apologize to all who I've ever uttered that despicable phrase.

And on the subject of presents: At some point it turned from beautifully wrapped presents thought ahead of time while surrounded by loving family and friends, to a gift bagged present still thought of ahead of time (even if it was the day of) and where do you want to go out to eat, to a gift card and now... to an email, a phone call, and "Hey what do you want for your birthday?"

Fuck you, birthday.

When the past becomes present.

2009-06-09T23:59:00.002-04:00

What do you do when the past becomes present?

When it knocks on your door uninvited, while you're half dressed; when the cat litter stinks a little too high and you're floors are a mess? Do you invite it inside for a cup of java or shut the door with an "I'm not interested, thank you?" Do you hide behind the curtain and wait for it to leave, hoping it doesn't see you lurking in the shadow?

Today, the past was present at my house. After a long, hard and painful day it showed up on my doorstep. I tentatively opened the door and held my hand over the door knob, waiting to grasp it and slam the door shut in the face of the past if need be. It wasn't needed though.

The past managed to bring flowers and say it was sorry. I opened the door a tad more and accepted the flowers, hopefully graciously, and thanked it for coming.

It wasn't completely unpleasant.. still very surprising...

yet...still... I'd prefer it if you call before you come over.

Morrissey Review; "Years of Refusal"

2009-05-29T23:29:00.002-04:00

Click here for full review at Hybrid Magazine

That new car smell.

2009-05-27T11:31:00.002-04:00

You step in and it infiltrates your senses. Your eyes dialate and your skin tingles. New carpet, new plastic, maybe leather, ooh is that a sunroof? And that most indistinguishable thing over all... The new car smell. It's almost intoxicating. My husband usually refuses to stick his head into a new car for fear the smell will overtake him and he'll spend 6 hours in a dingy cubical with some guy named Ted trying to "get-me-inna-car-raht-naw!"

That smell follows you around for months after the sale. It comes complete with the excitement of the biggest new toy you've found to date. You're totally overwhelmed and inundated with the new flashy things that come to life whenever you get inside. You feel like you want to tell everyone about it and they're simply sick to death of your new car already.

Then *it* happens ... Someone spills something in there and suddenly the smell dissipates like a ghost in the night. You're left with the shock of a new (and more than likely larger) payment for the next 60 months (ugh!) and this new sticky mess to get out of your brand new interior.

Such is my life as a writer and a new project. I have so much in my head at once its coming so fast that I didn't have time to even sit in the dingy cubical office with Ted to figure out all the fine print. I've driven away in this brand new work in progress and I don't know where the brakes are. I didn't test drive it.

I'm still in 'new car smell' mode; so I'm a little dissoriented with this story playing out in my head, and for which I'm happy. I really dig the beginning of a new story. New characters tied in with the old ones (the trade in,) and improved ways of doing things (upgrades.) I'm overwhelmed with the new and shiny.
Just holding out that someone doesn't spill anything in here for a while. Or dings me in the parking lot.

It's raining its pouring; the muse woke me from snoring

2009-05-26T16:55:00.003-04:00

I literally woke up thinking about the new heroine in the next work. Now that my first WIP is out and on paper, and still being edited (stupid stupid edits...) my muse is not keeping up with my grunt work and has decided to move on to a new project. This one, a loosely based extension of the first, is apparently going to be in the opposite direction. Where as my first was mostly a time travel pitch back into the 13th century, this one is apparently going to be based mostly in the present. I don't really have any clue of the how and why, but the who, where and when is pretty defined. I'm excited!

I also find it amusing and frustrating sometimes that all this comes at once, because I certainly haven't had time to put it all down except in snippets of instant messages and emails to my Dh and a close friend. I've at least saved those and put them in print somewhere so that I won't forget my train of thought.

So far, so good. I will finish editing soon so I can devote 100% to this new monster.

~~~
In the meantime, its still raining here at my house for the billionth day in a row. I'm getting waterlogged. I think I saw a gill popping up on my neck.

Editing makes me completely crazy.

2009-05-23T22:01:00.002-04:00

I have sent my editing to its room, and it cannot come out until I've said so. I'm so over the process, I can't even read a damn book without wondering if they've spelled something properly. So, I'm going to take a WoW break (For the Horde, naturally!!!) and start fresh tomorrow, after I've rested. I only have 20 pages left of this run through, so theoretically I should be able to do it quickly.... that is... if I don't go crazy in the mean time.

Etowah High School Blue Devils; Class of 1965

2009-05-23T21:41:00.005-04:00

Today I went to see Star Trek on a very rare date with my husband, and then went to my Dad's house to clean up for him. Simple as it may be, I find myself wanting to avoid the situation as after my Mother died in December, her belongings are still scattered about the house; stark reminders of what I've been avoiding. I tend to fill my life with busy-ness so I won't focus on her death. She died at the hospital when no one was around. She we didn't get the tearful goodbye, we didn't get to kiss her on the cheek and usher her on into the afterlife. She was on a respirator and we were called to be told, "She won't be here when you come." We came, she was gone. It was (and is) devastating, infuriating, and hopeless all in one.

I find myself rushing to finish these tasks at my father's house when I'm there because I don't want to relive the frustration that surrounds me.

However, today, I found myself going through a few of her jewelry boxes as my husband installed a printer for my Dad. My Mom was an avid fan of anything sparkly and shiny and kept most of her trinkets through out her life.

I remember looking through these things when I was younger; playing dress up with gaudy costume pieces, and being shooed out of the more precious ones ... such as her charm bracelet that holds mostly bell south commemorative charms, (my father retired from bell south, ) my sister's silhouette charm, and so forth. All of them have a story. I should have listened closer.

I found her class ring today. I put it on. Cried some, obviously. My finger rebelled for a bit under the newness of the metal that held it down but now it feels more at home. I think I wear it a while.