Rainbow Dragon

Things that go bump in the night don’t exist. At least that’s what Rainbow told herself as she pulled on a jacket for her nightly walk. It was raining and the wind was howling but what did that have to do with whether or not she was going to give in to her inner urge to be a couch potato? A bet was a bet. No way was Margo Henry going to win their bet. Just because she hadn’t thought quickly enough to insert a stipulation about bad weather—well, too bad. Fifty bucks was fifty bucks. She was so gonna dance in the parking lot when Margo paid up.

Her pedometer was firmly clipped to her granny ass jeans with the comfortable elastic waistband. She checked her pockets, making sure that she had her keys and her wimpy little cell phone in her right hand pocket. In her left was her flattened roll of duct tape and her Swiss Army Handyman knife with fifteen tools. Oh, Margo made fun of her, calling her McGyverette, but she never went out without her trusty duct tape and Swiss Army knife. Who knew when she would have an emergency and need them? At the last minute she grabbed a tissue packet and stuffed it in the pocket with the phone and keys. She hated it when her nose started to run while she was walking.

All right. Rubber garden clogs? Check. Rain slicker complete with hood? Check. Umbrella? Rainbow looked at the empty hook where the umbrella was supposed to be hanging. Oh, yeah. It was drying in the bathroom. She plodded into the bathroom, closed the still damp umbrella and plodded back out to the front door. Umbrella…check. One of these days—when Margo paid up on the fifty bucks—she was gonna get herself one of those teeny little gizmos that played music. Until then, she’d just have to hum to herself while she walked.

She locked the door, closed it with a slam and hobbled down the stairs. Okay, so she wasn’t in such good shape and Margo had shamed her into this stupid walk everyday. So what? She was walking!

When she opened the lobby door to the full fury of the storm, she quailed for a moment, just a moment and considered going back upstairs. But fifty bucks was fifty bucks and she needed fifty bucks so she opened the umbrella with a snap and sailed out into the pounding rain.

Six laps around the parking lot should do it. According to her pedometer that was exactly one mile. In the rain, one mile was her limit. Geez, why did it feel so spooky? Then she noticed that half of the parking lot lights were burned out. Swell. Just swell. No wonder it was so gloomy.
Tramping along the edge of the parked cars, splashing through the puddles on her fifth circuit, she didn’t pay any attention when the another of the lights died a slow death, but when the light she was walking past went out with a pop, she tilted the umbrella back and took another look around the lot.

Only one light was still shining.

Okay. That was just not right. Enough walking already. Margo never specified how long she had to walk. Tonight five laps were going to be more than enough. As she approached the sidewalk leading to her door, the last light went out with a ping. She stumbled to a stop in the sudden darkness. There was something out there in the storm. Something…that didn’t belong there.

Rainbow stood shivering in the blowing rain. The umbrella really did very little to keep the mist away so she decided that it would be far more useful as a weapon. With a snap, she collapsed the umbrella and clutched the wet folds in her hand. As much as she wanted to run for the door, she had a very strong notion that she needed to stay away from the parked cars. Slowly, step by step, she backed up moving back out into the open lot.

Abruptly, the rain fell harder, drumming on the cars, drowning out all the other night sounds. She pushed her hood away from her face, listening intently to catch the smallest out-of-place sound. When it came, it was too late for her to wield her umbrella. The huge dark form whooshed out from between two vans, landing on her shoulder like a chunk of concrete.

She fell to the ground flailing and beating at the thing with her umbrella. It growled and hissed striking terror in her heart. She tried to scream but her throat closed up in fright. Suddenly she realized that something was squeezing her throat. Her frantic struggles grew more frenzied when hot searing pain ripped her throat.

A red tide glazed her vision. In one tiny corner of her mind a little voice noted, That was what it meant to see red. Funny, she had never realized that a person could really see red. And then with a terrible roar, she rose to her feet flinging her attacker to the wet black top.

Puffs of smoke curled in the rain. Arms akimbo, she stared down at the limp black heap on the ground and opened her mouth. With one mighty huff, a stream of flame flew from her mouth to the pitiful thing at her feet. In a flash, it burned to ash.

The street lights all around the parking lot blinked back on. Rainbow bent to pick up her broken umbrella and that’s when she saw the enormous scaly feet with her red rubber garden clogs perched rakishly on the biggest toes.

She shook her head irritably. The yellow slicker hood slid down over one eye. It was pulling on her ear, so she shoved it back up out of the way with one curved claw and then bent her head to contemplate the puzzle of red garden clogs on those huge toes. It occurred to her, just in passing that they might be her toes, but her mind slid right past that and settled on the next thing that caught her attention.

The remnants of her granny jeans were wrapped around a pair of scaly ankles. In the odd light from the street lamps those ankles looked purple. Or maybe maroon. Strange.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed something that kind of resembled a tail and it seemed to be swishing to and fro like an agitated cat’s tail. There was something very strange going on. She just couldn’t quite put her finger on what the problem was.

Then the tiger and the alien showed up.

Anny

Drop by Amarinda's Place to check out what's going on in her world at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then pop over to Kelly's Blog at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ to find out if she's all cleaned and packed. Blessings on your day!

Speak Up!

I had an interesting experience today. I was directed to an interesting blog by a friend. I read the blog and of course the comments. The blog was a simple opinion about an e-reader. The comments--many of them were extremely negative and angry. I commented mentioning my own positive experience with an e-reader.

And found myself the target of quite a long-winded comment about my naivete. Hmmm. Until I went to that blog I had no idea that there are so many people who downright object to technology in all its myriad forms. No idea. Needless to say, it was quite an eye-opening experience for me.

I'm trying to envision a pre-computer world. I lived in that day and age. The first computers were just barely in use when I graduated from highschool. I'm wondering if we really want to return to that age. Do we really want to do without all of our gadgets like microwaves and ipods and cell phones?

Admittedly, I wish they would out-law driving while talking on a cell phone. I can't count the number of times I've nearly been run down by people who were distracted because they were talking on their phones. I also find it annoying when people in public restrooms insist on carrying on private conversations while they occupy the stall next to mine. Are they under the impression that no one can hear them?

But all of that aside, what kind of world would we be living in now without our current level of technology? I'm a little puzzled by the objections. So tell me... what do you think? Techno--or no?

Anny

In the meantime don't forget to pop over to Amarinda's Place at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and Kelly's Blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com for a new perspective on life. I'm also blogging today at www.TalesoftheTrade.blogspot.com about reference books. Blessings on your day!

The Real Child

Books with children fall into two categories for me. One is the frankly unbelievable kid that sounds like a tiny adult. They're well behaved--or horribly ill-mannered--but whatever they are, it isn't your normal everyday kid. The other kind of child in a story is the child that is just that--a sometimes naughty, mostly good kid.

I have a lot of children in my books. No, don't ask me why or how, but I end up writing about kids. Maybe because I've always had them around. My first child was born when I was nineteen and once you have them, they're yours for life. Forever! So its just possible that I have no idea what life is like without kids. Anyway, they just naturally slip into the story lines and fit into their very own niches as though they were created for them.

In case you haven't noticed, children don't think like adults. Their perspective is completely different. Things that we hold as self-evident, they puzzle over. That's because they're children, still in that curious, wondering, exploratory stage. That's probably also why they do incredibly dumb things like ride their big wheels off the picnic table or jump off the roof (no don't ask why they were on the roof in the first place) or build a campfire on their bedroom floor. I imagine that's why they taste things like perfume or charcoal lighter fluid or lysol. Otherwise how will they know it tastes nasty?

And because they don't reason like adults, they don't speak like adults. Complete sentences? Mostly not. Their all-time favorite phrase? Why? This is usually spoken in a whiney tone. The second all-time favorite phrase is dunno.

Susie, why did you paint the wall with my lipstick?

Dunno.

That's not acceptable. Go sit in time-out.

Why?

See, that's how it works. So when I see dialogue with a completely rational, erudite child I always wonder when the writer last spent time with a child. I admit that there are a lot of children out there that can speak the "king's English", but most of them don't. They mostly speak what I used to call "childglish".

John, why did you cut your sister's hair?

Dunno.

What do you mean, you don't know? How can you not know?

Dunno.

Where did you get the scissors? My sewing scissors that are kept on top of the cabinet so that your sister doesn't poke her eye out?

Dunno. At this point, the kid shrugs for emphasis and maybe rubs his nose on his sleeve or t-shirt.

John, how am I supposed to fix your sister's hair? You cut it all the way down to the scalp! I'm shocked that you didn't accidentally cut her head!

At this point we get the "justification". It's not my fault that she moved. I told 'er to stand still.

That's what a real conversation is like. Tricky. Depending on how the parent handles it, he/she might find out what the read deal is. Or not.

Children are also inherently dirty. It doesn't matter if you just gave them a bath. No, it doesn't. Five minutes later they will find some way to get dirty. They are dirt magnets. Chocolate milk, the yellow powder from cheese doodles, Mom's hand lotion, dog/cat hair, they'll find a way. When I see a child in a pristine outfit with shined shoes in a story, one of two things strike me. That's a child with deep, deep problems. Or that's a kid on the way to church. Maybe both.

They whine. They sigh. They yell and screech. They giggle and laugh. They whisper and mutter. But they seldom just talk. Their eyes roll off in the direction of the television or food or whatever is the most recent distration. When you send them to the kitchen for something, they likely will forget where they're going before they get there and you'll find them an hour later on the floor in their bedroom playing Barbies or outside in the yard watching ants.

In a book, a child can be a wonderful counterpoint to the story. Or a terrible distraction. What do you think? Have you read a wall-banger that drove you nuts because of a child character?

Here's a snippet of my current wip with a scene between Bishop and his nephew, Cougar.

A sharp thump on the door heralded the arrival of yet another of his nephews, this time a very young one with a pair of sandals in his hands. “Uncle Bishop, Dai said to bring these to you ‘cause you need shoes. Why do you need shoes?” he demanded with a puzzled scowl. “Did someone steal your shoes?”

Bishop took the sandals from him and slipped them on unsurprised to find them a decent fit. “Something like that. What’s your name, son?”

“Cougar.” He gave Bish a considering look from dark eyes very like his father’s. “I don’t think I’m your son, though.”

“You’re absolutely correct,” Bish agreed gravely. “Out-valley you would be my nephew.”

“Okay. Are you finally ready? Everyone’s waiting to eat. And tonight is country fried steak. It’s my favorite,” Cougar confided.

“Oh, well. In that case, we must go at once.”

Anny

Please drop by Amarinda's Place to find out what she was up to on her Monday. www.amarindajones.blogspot.com Then pop over to Kelly's Blog to find out if she finished her packing and recovered from Daylight Savings Time. www.kkirch.blogspot.com Blessings on your day!

Dancer and Eppie's Interview Part 3

Eppie and Dancer from Mystic Valley continue their interview with author Anny Cook…

Dancer: It seems like you spent a lot of time talking about our private lives. Did you tell your readers anything about the actual valley?

Anny: Sure. Let’s see… I talked about the weird plants. And the animals. I think I already mentioned the clothing, especially the shardas.

Dancer: (edgily) Don’t go there. I don’t want to talk about wearing skirts anymore.

Anny: (tartly) You’re going to live in the valley a loooong time. Get over it. The way you’re carrying on, you would think you were the only one wearing a sharda. As far as I could tell all the men wear them. Ooooh…I never thought of the potential for that. Seven hundred men in shardas and no underwear…

Eppie: Maybe we should talk about food, instead.

Anny: All right, let’s talk about food. I heard a lot of mention about rowan stew. Exactly what is a rowan?

Dancer: (coughing to cover a laugh) Ah, rowan. Yeah. Hmmm. Well a rowan is an animal that is something between a cow and a horse. Their chief characteristic seems to be the huge quantities of manure they produce which is bartered with the farmers.

Anny: Barter?

Dancer: (shrugging) There’s no money in the valley. Each village has a barter keeper who keeps track of who owes what. Actually, it’s a pretty efficient system.

Anny: What do you barter, Dancer?

Dancer: (blushing) In the valley, I was allowed a certain amount of barter credit as soon as Eppie was pregnant. Uh, it seems that fertility is worth barter credit. Imagine being paid to—

Anny: Yes, well, that’s probably too much information.

Eppie: So, Anny! What's this we heard about the wonderful reviews our story is receiving? Readers like our story?

Anny: Of course they like your story! It has everything they could ask for! And that's exactly what the reviewers are saying!

Dancer: I don't know... Are you sure about that? I mean how do you know?

Anny: Well Fallen Angels Reviews gave your story Five Angels. That's a wonderful review! Here! I just happen to have the link handy so you can read it for yourself! http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2007/July/Marlene-DancersDelight.htm

Eppie: That's a very nice review, Anny! Did you say someone else liked the book?

Anny: Hoo-boy, I almost forgot! Don't know how I could forget about Jacqueline's Review! It was great! Here's that link! Just see what she had to say! http://jacqueline-roth.livejournal.com/ See? Isn't that great?

Dancer: (scratches head) They really liked our story. I can't wait to see what they think of the other stories. Who did you say you wrote stories for?

Anny: Traveller's Refuge is about Trav and Wrenna. Cherished Destinies is about Arano and Arturo. And I'm working on Bishop's story. Boy is he stubborn!

Dancer: Yeah, he was. But Samara's whipped him into shape.

Eppie: Probably because he likes schalzina and shardas and schelas...

Dancer: Hey! I thought we weren't gonna talk about schelas!

Anny: (slyly) Well, only a little.

This wraps up the interview with Dancer and Eppie. Come back tomorrow for another thrilling blog by Anny.

In the meantime, don't forget to drop by Kelly's Blog for her quote of the week at www.kkirch.blogspot.com and then pop over to Amarinda's Place at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com where she's skinning blue tongued lizards to make a set of shoes. Blessings on your day!

Dancer and Eppie's Interview with Anny Cook Part 2

After fortifying themselves with quoltania wine, Eppie Llewellyn and her bond mate, Dancer Devereaux continued their interview with Anny Cook.

Eppie: Dancer had some difficulties with the language differences when he first arrived. How did you deal with this problem?

Anny: Oh, I compiled a glossary. So helpful, you know? Of course, there aren't that many differences...and I'm thinking about posting it on my webpage so that readers have access to it.

Eppie: Webpage? What is a webpage?

Dancer: Something for the computer, Eppie. Remember when I showed you my laptop?

Eppie: Oh, yes. Is this webpage something important?

Anny: Well, on the outside, yes. For instance, my webpage lists the books I've written with some short excerpts from them. And of course there's a biography about me. And um, there's a map of the valley plus a map of Lost Market, where you live.

Eppie: You're writing about where we live? With a map? What if everyone decides that Mystic Valley's a wonderful place to visit? Where will we put everyone?

Anny: No, no. I don't tell them how to get there. I would never do anything to harm the valley.

Dancer: (scowling at Anny) I hope you didn't mention personal stuff in that book!

Anny: Define personal...Oh! You mean you don't want the readers to know you wear a skirt?

Dancer: Sharda! It's called a sharda! It's NOT a skirt!

Anny: I liked the shardas. I especially liked the reason for the sharda. Availability, wasn't it? I bet the ladies among my readers will like that idea, too. Hey! It might even catch on outside the valley. Especially if they find out what you wear beneath your sharda...

Eppie: (confused) Underneath their shardas? They don't wear anything under their shardas. How would they be available if they had something--

Dancer: Hush! Don't give her more ammunition!

Eppie: (sly smile on her face) Did you explain about schalzina and the schela?

Anny: Of course! I thought the locking part was the most interesting. Imagine being locked together--

Dancer: No! No locking! For crying out loud, woman! Is nothing private with you? Do you think I want my friends to know that Eppie and I are locked together for that long?

Anny: (with bright professional interest) How long would that be? Ten minutes? Twenty?

Eppie: Oh, longer than that usually. Sometimes, he just dozes off. But if I squeeze his kzusha just right, well he wakes up in a hurry! (Giggles) He looooves my schela.

Dancer: (groans and hides his face) Now you've done it! Every guy in the world will be trying to find the valley. They'll all want their own bond mate so they can lock together!


Drop by tomorrow for the last installment of Dancer and Eppie's interview with Anny Cook. Until then, drop by Amarinda's Place at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and Kelly's Blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com to check out how things are going in their worlds. Blessings on your day!

Dancer and Eppie's Interview Part One...

Hello there! My name is Eppie Llewellyn and I'm the heroine in Dancer's Delight. Dancer and I were quite surprised to find that someone actually wrote a book about us. After all, we're pretty ordinary people. I know, I know there's the whole blue skin thing and pointy ears, but really, after a while nobody even notices.

In the beginning when we found out about the book, we were so excited, but then Dancer asked me, "Who is this woman, anyway? And why is she writing about our private lives?"

Do you know, I have to admit, I began to wonder about that myself. So we decided to interview this Anny Cook character and see for ourselves whether or not we even wanted her to tell our story!

Eppie: How long have you been writing Ms. Cook?

Anny: I've been writing since I was in my twenties. Hmm. Well, it's a long time. Then a little over a year ago I sent in my first submission--your story, dear--and I was offered a contract. Boy, was I shocked! And excited! And thrilled!

Dancer: So, why did you pick our story? There must be millions of other stories out there. Why not write about Eppie's mom and dad. They're unusual and exotic.

Anny: (Cough, cough) Well actually, I did write a book about them. I called their story Everything Lovers Can Know.

Eppie: You've written two books? Wow!

Anny: (Clearing throat) Um, I've written nine books. Currently I'm working on Bishop's story. I, uh, like to keep busy.

Dancer: Wait a minute! You never explained why you picked our story!

Anny: Surely you know that your story is wonderful! It has romance, suspense, adventure, passion... Well, it has everything readers want to read! Why just the bonding ceremony alone would be interesting!

Dancer: Never mind about the bonding ceremony! You didn't tell anybody I passed out, did you?

Anny: I, uh, might have just mentioned it. Just a little....

Dancer: Oh, man, the guys will never let me live that down. Never!

Eppie: I'm sure it will be okay, dear. Really, as long as she didn't tell anyone about the time we--

Dancer: Eppie! Don't give her anymore ideas!

Anny: I really don't understand why you're so upset. Readers find the details interesting. That's why I told them all about the time Wrenna gave Traveller a massage.

Dancer: In our book? You didn't!

Anny: No, no. That's in their book. Traveller's Refuge.

Eppie: Another book.

Anny: Another book.

Dancer: (Sigh.) I think we need a drink. Or two. Quoltania wine, anyone?

Anny

Stop in at Kelly's blog for the latest info about what she's up to at www.kkirch.blogspot.com and then hop on over to Amarinda's Place to find out about traveling in the country Aussie style at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com Blessings on your day!

Expectations

In a little over six weeks I will gather with many of my fellow writers at the Romantic Times 25th Booklovers Convention. Most of us will be meeting for the first time. There is much anticipation and excited planning going on in the background. There are several special events that the authors are invited to attend and all of them require fancy dress.

Since my idea of fancy dress is an unpressed pair of grannie jeans and a t-shirt, there's been some heartburn at my house over the entire shopping and acquiring event. I'm not much for shopping in any case, but shopping for fancy stuff is way down on my list of favorite things to do. I misplaced my girly-girl genes a long time ago.

There will be a host of workshops and getting-to-know you events. I don't do well in huge crowds but I plan to give it my best shot because there are people I need to know and things I need to learn. It amazes me that some authors actually look forward to mingling with strangers.

Perhaps the events that both terrify me and excite me at the same time are the two book signing events. One is an e-book signing where I'll be signing cover flats for three of my books, Chrysanthemum, Honeysuckle, and Cherished Destinies. I understand that the companies that market e-book readers will be there demonstrating their wares. The other event is a print book signing. I'll be signing my first print book, Dancer's Delight.

It's a scary prospect. What if no one comes to my table? What if no one wants one of my books? Will I sit alone at a table in a sea of tables crowded with eager readers? I'm a new writer. To paraphrase... "What if they gave a book signing and nobody came?"

I suspect that there are other new authors having similar thoughts to mine. At my age, there are so many new experiences that I seem to be facing every day. One side of me says, "Who cares?" And the other side admits that no one likes to suffer humiliation. There are echoes of those long ago school days when I just died because I was always chosen last. That's generally your fate when your always the new kid in class. By the time I made friends we were off, on the move again.

So I've decided to look on this as a once in a life time event--an unlooked for opportunity to meet men and women face-to-face that I've met via the Internet. We all have expectations about what the other ones will be like in person. I'm pretty sure that the others will be surprised when they meet me. To put it bluntly...I'm a grandma. People who are familiar with my work always look at me with this wounded look and moan, "But you're a grandmother!"

I know.

My pert and perky days are past. Now I'm in the rocker and chocolate chip cookie phase, seasoned with a liberal helping of support hose and Miss Clairol. I still suffer from a certain wistfulness for those younger, skinnier, whisker-free, more limber days of my youth, but they're long gone. So I'll just have to settle for not trying to scare the patrons away. And I'm reasonably secure in the hope that my fellow frogs won't notice that I'm a strange shade of blue.

Anny

Amarinda is off in the hinterlands of Australia, scouting out locations for her movies. Check out her blog anyway at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ And Kelly is contemplating her navel but we won't tell her that everyone has one at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!

Subject Lines and other stuff

A few years ago I taught an adult education course called Computer Boot Camp. It was a course designed for the totally uninitiated computer user. And part of that course was basic computer etiquette. One of the things I covered was what we call netiquette--manners for the internet. Things like not typing in all CAPS because that's the equivalent of shouting. Or the reason we delete the four hundred addresses before forwarding that "cute" e-mail. Or better yet, why we shouldn't forward that e-mail in the first place. I covered other stuff like checking out the "urban legend" e-mails before mindlessly sending them on to friends... you know the ones about scary things that happen to women in dark parking lots or the pitiful ones that have a picture of a dying baby that only you can save by forwarding this e-mail to your hundred nearest and dearest friends.

One of the other things we discussed was the phenomenon of spammers. What you can do about them. How to get rid of them. Unfortunately, I suspect that they're here to stay. So I choose to be amused by them. I collect unusual names and subject lines. When I have enough, then I use them--maybe in a blog. Hey! What else am I supposed to do with them before I hit delete?

Here is my current selection of subject lines grouped by general interest:

Word 2007
Powerpoint 2007

Latest Autocad--best prices!

Why do these people think I need Autocad?

Become a super-man! It would take more than whatever they're offering to accomplish that.

Get University Degree in months

University Degree is not That Hard

Huh. And I can tell that the reason I can have one in months--and it's not That Hard--is because it's not worth anything! Otherwise you would know not to Capitalize At the end of the Sentence!

I have never ordered online. Is it safe? As opposed to what? Bungee jumping?

I wanted to release tension.

I wanted to improve my sexual skills.

I believe these sound like personal problems--personal problems that are really none of my business.

You will be absolutely amazed when you see your penis gradually become LARGER...

Just fancy how lucky you will be if your dic'k gets bigger!
Never mind how surprised I'll be... just imagine how surprised my house hunk will be. Talk about marriage secrets...

The person wore revealing clothes.

The person was "available".

And I need to know this because? If it bothers you, offer them a blanket or something. Or maybe just use the blanket depending on what their availability is...

We don't advertise. We advise.

100% money back guarantee

90% discount. Coupon #9don

73% discount. Coupon #5iu6

Is it just me? Or is there a pattern here? Sort of like a count down? Going, going, gone...

chesty

clinches

These are the new words for the anangram contest, right? Right? No?

Ah well, that's my collection for today as the spammers were prolific. Maybe they're all at home because of a snow storm or something. I wonder what they think about when they're sending out their moronic e-mails? Does somebody pay them to do it? Or do they just do it for fun? What do you think?

Anny

Don't forget to drop by Amarinda's Place to see what she's up to...you never can tell. http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ and then pop over to Kelly's Blog where she's giving away four leaf clovers at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!

Checking out...

Unlike many of my contemporaries, I believe if you are so completely miserable that you don't want to continue living then you should just find a way to deal with ending your life. Preferably, you should notify the authorities and walk off into some isolated area where no family member will accidentally stumble over your remains. You could even arrange for a professional to discover your remains instead. No, don't bother to leave an explanatory note. Nothing you could possibly say would truly explain your selfish behavior to your family or loved ones.

What I do NOT understand is the proliferation of suicidal idiots who insist on taking a host of innocent people with them. In what way does that make things better? What purpose is served by killing total strangers or small children or grandmothers? In the last few days, there have been several horrendous killing sprees in the United States.

One was in a restaurant, another in a shopping mall, and yet another in a school. In all cases, the perpetrator walked into the building, shot several people and then killed themselves in front of witnesses. What is accomplished by this selfish, self-serving action? Are these people looking for lasting fame? If so, they aren't succeeding.

Mere weeks after the killings, sometimes mere days after the killings, their name is lost in the fog and haze of all the other tragedies in the country. For the people immediately involved, yes, they are left with the miserable legacy of remembering for a long time. But outside of that small sphere of influence, the rest of the world marches on--not uncaring, but worn down by the continual weight of idiocy and stupidity such individuals demonstrate. There is no power in taking innocent lives. There is no accomplishment or lasting fame. All that remains is the grief and painful loss and sad bewilderment.

For those family members left behind, my most profound condolences. Death of a loved one is difficult enough to deal with under any circumstances. Death at the purposeful hand of another is a staggering loss.

For the family members of the perpetrators, you have my deepest sympathy and prayers for your loss is magnified by the terrible actions of your loved one. I cannot imagine your grief.

For the rest of us, perhaps it is time to exercise a new awareness of our surroundings. In each of the cases, some of the survivors indicated there was a window of opportunity to escape. Too often, caught up in the drudgery of everyday life, we don't see danger approaching us--even when its in plain sight. Yes, its tiring to always be alert to a possible threat to our well-being. But I have an idea that the survivors of the most recent events would tell us that they would gladly be tired for that reason.

Blessings on your days!

Anny

Weird Writing Weekend

I worked most of the day Sunday on my current work in progress. This particular segment was mostly about a kid trying to work out what he wanted to do with his life. In the Mystic Valley youngsters grow up and take on responsibilities early. And in the valley, the standard jobs we think of today aren't part of the culture. There they have choices like weaver, potter, hunter, metal smith, blacksmith, wood cutter, and warrior. So what would you want to be?

In this day and age there are unlimited choices, but in a small valley with no electronic technology, and no medical establishment such as we have now, what occupational choices are there? Surprisingly, there are a lot. Baker, butcher, barterkeeper, archivist, herbalist, healer, mid-wife, teacher, seamstress, gardener, farmer... and many more. But the vast majority of them require strong sturdy bodies and a willingness to work hard.

When I reached the end of my thoughts with that, I worked some on the research for my time travel book. There are a lot of questions still to be answered for that one. My latest queries have been centered around solar and wind power, climate, the requirements for building a log cabin with primitive tools, how to make a bed, how to cook on a hearth, and how to devise a storage cache for raw meat. Oh yeah, how to smoke meat. There have been a couple other things tossed in there for variety... alternatives for toilet paper and sanitary napkins and soap. See? This book will be a potpourri of educational experiences, all duly researched. Now why did I want to write this book? Remind me. All I know is that it isn't all about acorns!

This picture is exactly what the stores looked like when I shopped on Saturday. We hit the Sam's Club, the grocery store, the bank, the wine shop, the mall, and a restaurant. By the time we finally wended our way home, I was beat and feeling a tad crowded. I don't know what everyone else was looking for, but they were all out there in the stores. Everywhere we went there were lines, lines, lines...

I think that I must be ready for it to be spring. The strange thing is here in Baltimore we didn't have much of a winter and yet--I'm ready for sun and warmer temps. I'm ready for green grass and leaves on the trees. I won't demand daffodils or tulips. I'm not greedy. But a bit of green would be nice.

Ashley Ladd tapped me for six random things about me. I'm pretty random to begin with.

1) I collect tiny boxes. (My friend Jane said this should be on my list.) Why? I have no idea. Really.

2) I avoid housework at all cost. Usually, one day a month I get ambitious enough to run around putting stuff away and if absolutely pushed to it, I'll vacuum and then--I'm done.

3) I avoid shopping as much as possible. I don't deal well with crowds. (See paragraphs above about my Saturday.)

4) My second toes on both feet are longer than my other toes.

5) My little fingers on both hands are crooked. It's a family trait.

6) I'm allergic to chicken. Very, very allergic.

That's about as random as I can get. Stop over at Amarinda's Place to see what she's up to. www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and then pop over to Kelly's Blog for her take on American television at www.kkirch.blogspot.com Blessings on your day!

Anny

Sunday Here, There, and Everywhere...

More interesting ways that people reached this blog... blonde bride dolls, onomatopoeia scrabble, hospital anny baby dolls, grandma sexual fantasies (from England), cake for a plumber, bread the best cd, grandma bondage (from India), picture bride doll (from France), ellora's dress up game. Hmmm. That "cake for a plumber" really has me intrigued.

The spammers have been relatively quiet so there's not much new to report on that front. All that means is that today, they'll fill my junk mail with tons of stuff. Perhaps there will be something new or interesting to report tomorrow.

In the last few days I've read several excellent e-books. Thought I would report on my findings. After all, I should share the wealth, right?

An Ice Cold Grave by Charlaine Harris.

This is the third book in the Grave series. I have to admit that I really, really like this series. Since I've read all the books in the series Tolliver and Harper are wonderful characters that are my old friends by now. Harper's unique ability to find dead bodies is surely one of the more unusual hooks in the history of mysteries. If you've never read any of the Grave series, then start with the first one, of course! Charlaine also writes the Sookie Stackhouse Vampire series. Excellent books.

Sizzle and Burn by Jayne Ann Krentz

I can't remember a J.A.Krentz book that I haven't enjoyed. This one is in her Arcane series so of course it has some very interesting characters and wild paranormal activity. The story moved fast. I wasn't ready for the story to be over when I reached the end. Family secrets, dangerous formulas, really bad guys... everything combined for a true page turner.

Creation in Death by J.D.Robb

Ah, man, she just keeps getting better and better. In this outing, Eve Dallas is pitted against an old murderer who has returned after nine years. This time he's picking his victims from Roarke's employees. There are ties back to the Urban Wars and also to the time when Feeney was the primary investigator, still training Eve. Good stuff. Scary as hell stuff. And in the end she pulls it all together with a very satisfying round up.

Three books by three top of the line authors who write for New York publishers. All of them are new releases in the last two months. And I bought them and downloaded them directly to my e-reader. No paper. No hardback. Strictly electronic. This is the future. When mainline authors start selling their work in electronic format, then e-publishing isn't just for erotic romance, is it?

I also downloaded some out-of-print books from Elizabeth Lowell. And I noticed that the better part of the JD Robb's backlist are available as are most of her alter ego, Nora Roberts. Have a hankering to read the latest Jonathon Kellerman or J.A. Jance? How about John Grisham or Clive Cussler? They're all available. I've decided that there will be no more irritating trips to the bookstore for me. I have an endless array of books available to me at any time of day or night.

I have a few more waiting on the e-reader and then I'll have to visit some of my favorite publishers for a fresh selection of books. In the meantime, I currently have a varied library of eighty books on the reader to entertain myself with... including my own. On more than one occasion I've let a potential reader try out my e-reader by reading a snippet of one of my books.

Ummm. Yes, Jane. I found a nice tame paragraph or two.

Anny

Stop by Kelly's Blog for her Sunday Quote at http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ and then hop over to Amarinda's Place where she'll explain the fascinating process of consuming a salad and apple at http://www.amarindajones.blogspot.com/ Blessings on your day!

Sex... or Romance?

What's the difference, you say? For the lucky few, there is no difference. But for most of the coulples out there, sex might make the world go round, but romance doesn't. Sex is inserting tab A into slot B for the purpose of cementing a relationship. It might be that children are the desired end product. Or a merging of family fortunes. Or the stability of merging two families. Or even still in this day and age it might be the final steps in a political marriage. Ultimately, whatever feelings are involved, they are not the primary focus. That focus is still on the technical aspects of making sure that tab A does indeed fit into slot B.

It seems to me that we in the erotic romance line are slithering periously close to having more "sex" in our stories than "romance". Actually, this is true of most romance lines. In the last two or three weeks, I've probably read twenty self-proclaimed romances. The genres had stretched from vampire to shifter to woman-in-jeopardy to high fantasy. Historical periods have ranged from futuristic to medieval and everything in between.

In a disheartening number of them, the stories centered around a series of sexual gymnastic encounters, some of them frankly improbable, that had absolutely nothing to do with the stories. Um, I suppose that a case could be made that my own stories fit this category so in the sake of fairness I'll be the first to toss my own into the pot.

The other disturbing trend is the mechanical list of actions that read like someone reporting on a porno film. "And then he did..." "She reached up and ..." "He kissed and licked..." Yeah? So what? Where's the feeling? I want the whole package.

Conversation--even if he is braindead because all the blood in is brain has traveled south. He can grunt and groan and mutter "Yeah, baby." I read numerous scenes that were curiously silent. Now I remember raising children and the necessity of being quiet sometimes, but that was not the case in any of these stories. So what are these people doing--sign language maybe?

Scents--an integral component to sex. There a potpourri of scents associated with sex. His scent. Hers. Body lotions. Candles. Depending on locations, there might be the scent of flowers or grass or trees or a fire in the fireplace.

Settings--where are they? I hesitate to bring this up, but... many of the more interesting gymnastics are nearly impossible in a standard bed. It's too soft. I hate to point out that much of the, uh, leaping about would lead to someone--maybe more than one ending up on the floor. And that's neither sexy nor romantic. So maybe they're on the floor (rugburn) or a blanket on the lawn (ants and mosquitos) or the floor of a steamy shower (BIG hotwater tank, right?)

Lighting--are they in the dark? I swear that I read a scene this last week where the couple were in the dark (didn't dare turn on the light for some strange reason) but he could SEE her pink pearly parts! In the dark! Ah, the tricky x-ray vision. If the lights are on, how much light is there? Are they in the sun, the shade, next to a fire in the great outdoors. Is the moon full?

Then there is the tall-to-short ratio. He's really tall (aren't all men six foot four?) and she's really petite (oh somewhere around five foot one) and yet, according to the author, they fit together perfectly--so perfectly that they can perform hanky panky standing up...with all four feet on the ground. Huh. That I would like to see. Just for research purposes.

Getting naked is one of the most interesting parts--or not. It can be incredibly erotic or another list of instructions. "He took off his shirt, shucked his pants and stood naked before her." When did he take off those cowboy boots he was wearing? That scene bothered me so much that I went back and searched four pages. Nope. He never removed his cowboy boots. Or his hat. And you guys think I'm kinky. I'm pretty sure the house hunk usually takes off his shoes.

Finally, while I prefer a tad more than a wham, bam, thank you ma'am (unless they're hiding from the bad guys in a closet and trying to be really, really fast and quiet), I also don't want a love scene so long that I fall asleep in the middle of it 'cause there's only so much you can do, so many ways before you start repeating yourself... and (yawn) you just lost me four pages back. In one book I just skipped the "good" parts and read the rest of the story and the author should have too because it didn't have a thing to do with her pretty interesting story.

So what's the difference between a romance and an erotic romance? In my mind the sex in the erotic romance is an integral part of the story. If there isn't an important reason for the sex, then what is it doing in the story? And if it's an integral part of the story, then it deserves the same time and care and craft that the rest of the story receives. And that's why some books are strings of sexual encounters and some books are romances.

I like writing romances.

Anny

Well, the February Scavenger Hunt is over on my webpage. Later today I'll post the final winner. I want to thank everyone who participated. I hope all of you enjoyed the books you won.

Drop by Amarinda's Place at www.amarindajones.blogspot.com and Kelly's Blog at www.kkirch.blogspot.com for some of the good stuff. Blessings on your day.