I had some confusion today, so the podcast is in two parts… >_>
This slightly sodden morning glory was the last before the freeze, so I had to take a pic. Until next season, tender flowers!
So, last week I was at the nail salon. I go every-other week and see Ruby, who is a Mani/Pedi Goddess. I’ve been seeing her for two years now, so we know each other fairly well. She was asking me about Halloween and my plans – and I said I had Costume Pressure this year. I’ve been invited to a Big Shindig, hosted by George R.R. Martin’s assistant. Lots of Science Fiction and Fantasy types will be there.
Ruby asked if I didn’t have costume ideas, and I said sure, I could put something together, but I don’t really do Cosplay the way a lot of these people will be. A client of one of the other gals, overhearing, turns to me and says:
“Just go as one of George R.R. Martin’s characters. From what I’ve seen, all you’d have to do is roll around in the dirt!” And she cackles at her wit.
“I doubt George would find the humor in that,” I say, imagining the scene where I, a greatly junior author, turn up in dirt-covered rags and cheerfully announced to George that I’m Arya Stark. No no no.
Other Lady: Oh no – I’ve met George R.R. Martin and he has a *great* sense of humor!
Me: Yes, he does, but not so much about Game of Thrones.
Other Lady: That’s not true! When I met him at a party, my daughter wanted me to ask him to stop killing off his characters. So, since it was important to her, I did. I marched right up to him and I said “my daughter wants me to ask you to stop killing off his characters.” And he laughed!
Me: ~cringes in chair~
Other Lady: And do you know what he said? He said, “Tell her not to worry because I’ve got plenty more where those came from.” Isn’t that just too funny??
Me: ~nods politely~
Other Lady: So see – he *does* have a sense of humor about Game of Thrones. So you should just go covered in dirt, say you’re one of his characters, and he’ll think it’s funny.
Me: I’ll keep that in mind.
It occurred to me to share this story, because I get asked a lot about Dos and Don’ts when meeting favorite authors. Is it okay to ask them to sign a book? Will they get mad if I ask when the sequel is coming? That sort of thing.
My usual advice is that most authors LOVE to meet readers and are happy to sign books and talk about them. I really love to hear which characters or stories are favorites and why. And sure, authors hear a lot of the same questions, but that’s generally okay. We also have standard answers for them. Good on George for being able to laugh as he delivered his standard answer to something he hears All The Freaking Time.
It totally amazed me that this lady could be so tone deaf that she had no sense of that – or how her dismissal of his characters as all covered in dirt wouldn’t be insulting.
So, how do you talk to authors at parties – or anywhere, really? Like you talk to any human being. With kindness and consideration.
*with apologies to Neil Gaiman’s “How to Talk to Girls at Parties”
One of the great things about living where I do – in Santa Fe, New Mexico – is all the fabulous and fun arts. Including these wonderful Talavera Jack O’Lanterns. Talavera is this particular style of ceramic glaze, introduced to Mexico by the Spanish Moors. It’s one of my favorite styles and the first time I saw a Talavera Jack O’Lantern, I snapped it up. And bought one for my mother, too.
This year, I decided to buy one for you guys.
I’m giving it away to one of my newsletter subscribers. (Okay, yes – this isn’t ENTIRELY selfless on my part.) The first newsletter goes out this Friday, October 31. Sign up by Thursday, October 30, Midnight Eastern Time, and you’ll be automatically entered in the drawing! The sign-up form is on the right hand side of my home page. This newsletter will also contain a free prequel story to The Twelve Kingdoms, previously only available in an anthology.
BETTER THAN CANDY CORN.
(Okay, for those of you who hate candy corn, that’s not saying much, but you get the concept.)
Also, only a few days remain to get a free copy of The Tears of the Rose from my fabulous publisher via Goodreads. That giveaway ends October 30, also. So many things drawing to a close as the Veil thins…
*tosses candy corn into the air in celebratory style*
The post ahead might be a bit TMI. Fair Warning.
I’ve been hitting a funny place in my life lately. Now that I’m in my late 40s, I’m looking at the whole menopause thing, though I’ve had blessedly few symptoms. More in the radar sites right now is dealing with my blood pressure. It’s just a little high. “Pre-Hypertension,” they call it. Not high enough to medicate, but high enough to be of concern. So far, I’ve been doing about everything I can. My diet is good – low fat, veggies, no fast food. I exercise. With the treadmill desk I’m walking 7-8 miles/day. No caffeine. Trying various herbs.
I recently switched practitioners and she suggested that I should go off the birth control pills, as a next step. It’s funny because I’ve been on the pill for over 30 years. I started on it when I was 16 and had met the guy I wanted to lose my virginity to. And I’ve never looked back. Taking the pill every night has acted as a calendar for my adult life. Likely what I’ll do is get a copper IUD. I still have my biases left over from the IUD horror stories of the 80s, but apparently they’re tons better now. Funny to me that I never tracked those changes.
For the time being, however, we’re using condoms. The other day, I went to the pharmacy and bought a box – for the first time in my whole entire life.
Because, back in my youthful, non-monogamous days, STDs weren’t emphasized so much. AIDS really became a major concern by my junior year in college. But even then, we tended to think in terms of exposure and whether or not we’d been tested. Because I was on the pill and reasonably discriminating in my lovers, we just didn’t use condoms. In fact, I never had sex with a condom until I met David and I was on antibiotics at one point, that could interfere with the efficacy of the pill.
So I never had that rite of passage until just the other day. And yes, I felt totally like a teenager. Plus, with my ovaries and uterus waking up from their long sleep and positively throbbing, I feel like I did when I first started getting my period when I was 12. Also, “they” seem to be right that the pill suppresses desire. While I never felt like I didn’t want sex, now… let’s just say I’m feeling teenagerish that way, also.
Not really what I thought I’d experience in my late 40s, but also cool in many ways, to revisit my youthful feelings. I feel like I’ve come full circle.
And that’s a nice place to be.
I’m over at Word Whores today talking about how to write in new ways about old things – like rotting reanimated corpses.
And if you need a palate-cleanser after all that talk of death and would like to taste the opposite side of the coin, I’m participating in a fun little sale of erotic books. Sister Word Whore Carolyn Crane is also playing. You can check it out here.
I’m over at Word-Whores today, making up for missing yesterday, when the lovely Laura Bickle/Alayna Williams filled in for me.
I had no words. Which is saying a lot for me.
My spooky Halloween decorations look cool at sunset though, don’t they?
Clearly I’m feeling quite rambly today. I’m looking at my list of potential blog topics and none look interesting. My writerliness might be getting sucked into this new story I’m working on. It’s called (right now) “Sapphire” and it’s an erotic contemporary romance. An editor requested to see it, so I’m getting it all finished up. It’s interesting how, because it’s contemporary, I seem to be getting more into the thoughts and emotions. My modern career-gal, Taylor, has far more neuroses and hang-ups than virginal Amarantha did. Of course, they both get ravished just the same. Some things transcend era.
The big question is what to write next. I’m trying this schedule of spending three months drafting a long work, setting it aside for a month to “cook,” writing something short, then spending a month revising, then another short. October sees the end of this “writing a short” month. (Okay, I’m running about a week behind -have been since July. You can dock my pay.)
What this means is: time to work on the next big project. And I’m not sure what that will be. Oh yes, I have a list. I have several manuscripts in various phases from a jotted-down idea to one that’s 36K complete. Allison asked me which is tugging at me and I confessed it’s still The Body Gift. I haven’t quite cut that umbilical cord.
Of course, if I get an offer on it, I’ll almost certainly be diving back in with revisions. That’s pretty much inevitable. I know that, so that might be feeding in.
At any rate, I’m contemplating going back to a nonfiction project. Part of me thinks that, since I don’t have any other strong tuggings, I should pick the project that’s most marketable. Then I think, who am I kidding? If I was good at picking marketable projects, I’d be Nora Roberts. KAK has a vote in for me to finish the 36K one, which I might. It’s also probably the most unsellable project under the sun, so I’m waffling…
See? I warned you I’m in a rambly mood today. Say, I don’t solicit comments often, but let’s play Vote on the Next Manuscript!
Here’s the list: (I’m keeping each description brief, so as not to unduly bias my judges.) (And, no Marcella, none of these are good loglines, I know.)
The Daughters (36K done) – Fantasy, lots of sex magic, about girls being manipulated by a cult
Writers Group story – Nonfiction, 12 intertwined stories about women in my first writers group and how they ended up
St. Johns love story – contemporary romance, a woman travels to St.Johns because she falls in love with a singer’s voice
Wendy story – literary fiction. 30 yo woman living in small-town Wyoming with parents
Sorority book – Nonfiction, intertwined essays (yeah, it’s my thing right now) about women from my sorority, then and and the ensuing years, what sorority life was like
Papa book – narrative nonfiction, from the divorce scandal that banished my grandparents from theater mecca to the ashes of alcoholism
Post-apocalyptic vampire story – could be expanded?
Okay! What do you all think? Feel free to say you hate something, too. All suggestions welcome!
I’m guest-posting today over at Cynthia Eden’s blog, as part of her October Halloween blog party. Come party with with us!
A friend of mine mentioned on Twitter the other day that it was already time to start thinking about Halloween costumes. I knew she meant for her daughter, but she and I have been friends since 1st grade. So, I replied, “What are you going to be for Halloween this year?”
The question echoes through all our years of growing up. There was a time in all our lives when that was a crucial question. A major decision. Should I be a cat or a witch?
Once you made your choice for the year, you had to live with it. It defined that time. That was the year I was a Hula Girl. Remember the year I wanted to be a hatching chick and Leo made me the papier-mache egg costume?
Of course, school made it a big deal, what with the parades and parties. Halloween night in Denver tended to be a bit of a bust, since it usually snowed, forcing us to cover our costumes with parkas and scarves. But we were better off than some places who didn’t allow trick-or-treating at all.
I recall how reluctantly we gave up the costumes and the childhood attachment to what we would “be.” In middle school our parents informed us we were too old to go trick-or-treating. Sure we could have parties, but costumes were often out. A new sense had emerged that dressing up for Halloween was uncool. Costumes were silly. Even today, there are adults who flatly refuse to wear costumes for anything at all. Too much effort. Too embarrassing. Inside them, I know there must be children who pondered with enthusiasm and excitement just which fabulous creature to be for Halloween.
The question was an echo, also, of the one every adult asked us: What are you going to be when you grow up?
To which we were often handed a pre-established list of choices. The eternal round of doctor, fireman, teacher, nurse. The Halloween question we asked each other and the answers were infinite. Never mind how many Mutant Ninja Turtles there were in the heyday. Every princess became a unique snowflake. Every pirate had a particular style. In our imaginations, we became beautiful and valiant, terrifying and strong.
We became more than what we were.
What would it be like, I wonder, if we carried that tradition all our lives? I would love to hear adults turning to each other in September and asking, what will you be for Halloween? Recall the childhood rules: you can’t repeat a costume, cuz that’s lame. You can’t be the same thing as your sister or your friend, unless it’s a group theme.
Most important: have fun and let your imagination run wild.