Tax man cometh...

So we went to the tax man to have our taxes done. I confess that we did not do bad at all. I did a decent job of holding onto receipts and filed them properly so the tax guy was pretty happy with me. He offered a few pointers for next year, gave us a zillion papers to sign and we were off and running.

I do wonder though why it has to be so complicated. Who decided that the tax code had to be so complicated that you need an advanced degree in taxing to do it? Fortunately, the house hunk and I can afford to pay to have the taxes filled out, but what about those people who can't afford it?

And another thing... those receipts fade. There's something wrong with the ink and paper. You pull out the receipt to add up the stuff and you can't even read it. What's with that? Can't they use a permanent ink in the register so you'll be able to see it at the end of the year?

Mileage? I was thinking mileage to a convention or booksigning or something like that. But he explained we could also do mileage when we went to the store to buy something for my business. He waved the stack of receipts for the craft components I use in my promo items and said, every time you go to the store to buy more supplies you can use that mileage. Who knew? Now I need to go to the store to buy a mileage book. Hmmm. Three miles each way...

Anyway, it was entertaining and educational. Then he asked what kind of books I write. So I kindly explained in detail. Hauled out my Sony reader and demonstrated how it worked by letting him read a bit of one of my books. Distributed my business cards. Turns out he belongs to a book club. He invited me to come to one of their meetings and talk about writing.

Opportunity knocks in the most unusual places...

anny

Colorblind...

In July last year, my book Kama Sutra Lovers was released. I happened to be involved in a conversation not too long ago with an acquaintance who informed me that she wouldn't ever read it. Like any author, I was curious about her reasons, though I was sure I knew the answer.

"Why not? Is it because it's a tri-marriage--a ménage?"

"No, that doesn't bother me."

Huh. "Well, is it because it's a sci-fi? A futuristic?"

"No. I generally enjoy those."

"I know not everyone enjoys reading e-books..." I ventured.

She shook her head. "I have a lot of e-books. That's not it."

"Well, what's wrong with the book?" I finally asked in exasperation.

"It has a black man in it."

"And?"

"I don't read books with black people in them."

I could not for the life of me think of anything to say to the woman. She had professed on more than one occasion that she was a big fan of my Mystic Valley books--and those people are blue! So why did it matter what color a character's skin was?

It was the first time in a long time that I had come face to face with such boldfaced bigotry. Oh, I know it exists. Both of my son-in-laws are black. My grandchildren are half 'n half, as my son-in-law says. I've seen the looks when we're all out together in the mall or a restaurant. But looks, while hurtful, are not quite the same thing as putting those same feelings in words.

I just can't quite understand what skin color has to do with who the individual is. There are good people. There are bad people. There are people with extraordinary drive and ambition. There are people who are lazy and lacking pride. Period. Color doesn't determine which is which. Each individual makes the choice of which way they will go.

I don't feel like it's any great loss that this woman won't read my book. I suspect that the love story would be invisible to her anyway. Because sadly, she's colorblind in the worst way.

anny

What next?

While I have a couple works in progress, I like to plan ahead. At the moment, though, I'm somewhat stymied for choices. Nothing seems to just stand out and yell, "Take me! Take me!" That's not usually how things go.

I've posted a poll in the corner with a list. I would be so delighted if y'all would vote in it. Maybe it will give me a nudge forward. If you vote for the last choice, then please leave a suggestion in the comments. Perhaps that will spark an idea or two.

In the meantime, my two current wips are moving along. Lovetalker's Woman is the tale of a faery's courtship of a human woman. He's having some odd difficulties as he tries to convince her that he's the faery for her.

The second wip is another tale set on Elyria, the setting for Kama Sutra Lovers. It's the love story of the KSL's oldest son, Darius and his mates. I'm very pleased with the way its shaping up.

I also want to thank all the readers and fellow authors who contributed interesting and odd word verifications. I've used a lot of them in various places. Thank you for your enthusiastic help!

And finally, I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

anny

Love Never-Ending

Saturday, rainy Saturday... seemed like a good time for reading. Here's an excerpt from the most recent Mystic Valley book. This is Bishop and Samara's story, but as in all the Mystic Valley books, their families are an integral part of the story...

Arturo walked out of the woods, spying Panther and Llynx glumly seated on the pottery dome steps exactly where they were supposed to be. Time to put away thoughts of Ban the archivist and deal with his two recalcitrant siblings. As he approached them, they stood up and waited for him to greet them. “Well, gentlemen? How was your day?”

“Fine,” Panther replied.

“Boring.” Llynx kicked a stone out of the way.

“That is why you are in trouble, Llynx. You’re bored too easily,” Arturo observed. “I have talked to Papa about your boredom. Beginning on the first day after the gathering, you will report to Dan Miller. He has agreed to apprentice you, even though you’re a bit young.”

“What!” Llynx rounded on Arturo with both fists raised.

“Stand down!” Arturo bellowed.

Shaking with rage, Llynx dropped his fists and stood silently with his eyes lowered.

Arturo turned to Panther. “You may go, Pan. Clean up for dinner and report to the kitchen. Ask if there is anything you can do to help. Go.” Panther ran toward the house, more than happy to escape the uncomfortable scene.

When Panther was out of sight, Arturo turned toward the school and said abruptly, “We will walk.”

Llynx trudged along beside him, waiting for Arturo to start yelling at him or something. Instead Arturo continued to walk in silence. When they reached the path that ringed the central village green, Arturo took it without a word so Llynx followed him, uncertain of their destination. The tension in Llynx’s body wound tighter and tighter as he waited for Arturo to speak.

Finally Llynx could bear the silence no longer. “Aren’t you going to yell or something?” he burst out in frustration.

“Why?” Arturo’s reasonable tone enraged Llynx further. “I am not angry. You are.”

“Well, it’s not fair!”

“Perhaps you should tell me what is not fair.”

“Everything!”

“I see. That’s a pretty comprehensive statement. Perhaps you should tell me one thing that is not fair,” Arturo suggested.

“I was going to tell the truth and—”

“You were cheated of the opportunity?”

Llynx kicked another stone out of the path. “Yeah.”

Arturo clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. “I suppose that could make you angry. My question is why you didn’t tell the truth earlier. There were many opportunities.”

“I dunno.”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, Panther was so mad! He was crying and yelling…” Llynx’s voice trailed off and he swallowed hard. “He never gets mad, Arturo, never.”

“So you thought you would fix it, eh?”

“Yeah.”

They walked in silence for a while. Then Arturo said, “I will tell you a story. A healer lies to his patient and tells him that he is very sick. If the man wants to be healed, he must buy this special salve that costs many credits. Now the man is very poor so he steals the salve from the healer. Tell me. Who was wrong?”

Llynx didn’t make the mistake of answering immediately. Arturo’s stories had a way of leading to tricky answers so Llynx considered the circumstances before he replied. “Well, the man was wrong because he stole the salve.”

“True.”

“And the healer was wrong because he lied so the man would buy the salve.”

“Also true. So. Which one should I punish?”

After a while, Llynx said in a hushed voice, “Both. One lied. And one stole.”

“What is another thing the man could have done instead of stealing?”

Llynx scratched his chin and thought about that. It hadn’t occurred to him that there might be alternatives. “Well, he could talk to another healer?”

“And then what would have happened?” Arturo asked.

“The second healer would have told him it was a lie.”

“Uh-hmm.”

“If Panther had told you he didn’t take the picture, then he wouldn’t have been punished,” Llynx muttered. “So part of it was his fault.”

“Exactly.” Arturo turned up the walkway to the bakery where Dan Miller waited in the doorway. It was nearly dark so there were light stones in the windows. The scent of fresh bread swirled around them on the late afternoon breeze. He offered his hand to Llynx. “Come, let us go talk to Dan about your apprenticeship.”

Strangely relieved, Llynx placed his hand in his big brother’s and willingly went in to talk to Dan.

anny

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Spoiled...

Are you one of those readers that reads the last page first? Are you the reader that reads the last chapter before you decide whether you want to buy the book? I swear I had a friend that did that. That's okay. I'm perfectly happy with that. Just don't insist on telling me the end of the story before I get a chance to read it!

Actually, other than the blurb, I would prefer not to know anything about the story until I read it. To me, reading is part of the adventure. It isn't only the plot, it's the characters, the descriptions, the word choices, and the dialogue.

Perhaps that's why I have such a hard time writing a synopsis and blurb for my own stories. There's that reluctance to spoil the experience for the reader. Oh, I know they are necessary to sell the story, but I detest having to reveal the story outline to my editor and publisher before there's time to read it.

General outlines unfortunately don't tell the reader much about the characters, the dialogue, or even how the plot unfolds. I once read the synopsis for a story in a creative writing class. The entire concept was exciting so I was looking forward to reading the story.

The next week when we arrived at class, the instructor passed out copies of the story. Flat cardboard people, boring dialogue, and the same exact paragraph from the synopsis revealing the bad guy. Ugh.

So do me a favor. Let me find out about the story on my own. Even if you hated the story. I once commented to a friend that two of my favorite writers were Jayne Ann Krentz and Louis L'Amour. My friend went, "Ewwww!" Turns out that she hated them both. Hmmm.

We all have individual tastes fortunately. Otherwise there wouldn't be enough readers for all the books we're so busy writing. Whether you've enjoyed a book or hated it, sharing your feelings about that book are fine.

But hey! Don't tell me about the good parts--or the ending.

anny
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Spiderwoman? Not.

There are few things that will seriously squick me out like a spider. It doesn't have to be very big. A small spider will do it just as easily as a big one, though I have to admit that a big spider is a bigger squick than a small one.

Over the years I've tried various things to psych myself out of this feeling about spiders, but nothing seems to work. No matter how intellectual I try to be about my feelings toward spiders, the truth is that they give me the serious willies.

I believe that every person has something that gives them the shudders. It might not be spiders. It might be snakes or scorpions or elephants. For whatever the reason, those fears are with us, usually for the rest of our lives.I once had a friend that was absolutely terrified of cats. Such is life.

To the lucky person who lives life without such fears, the phobic individual often appears to be weak and silly. Heh. I have so many fears it would take Noah's ark to transport them from place to place. Height, enclosed places, millipedes, and the list goes on. The number one for me? An elevator in a tall building. That one counts for both heights and small places.

So, don't let me suffer alone. What are some of the things you're afraid of?

anny

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On the WWW

Yesterday I spent some time surfing the web, looking at author's web pages. It was an interesting experience. Some authors have up-to-date information on their sites with all sorts of extras such as character biographies and trailers for their books. Several of those with extensive bibliographies have the complete list, broken down into series and some even give publishing dates. Like I said, their pages are really up to date.

And then there are the others. I found websites three and four years out of date. On one website the author more or less said, "I'm too busy to mess with this anymore. So here's what I have up to this point in time." It was dated two years ago.

Personally, I don't care how fancy your website is as long as it has current accurate information. Fancy slide shows? Trailers for every book under the sun? Not necessary. When I visit an author's website, I want three things: an up-to-date list of the author's books with purchasing information, an up-to-date list of upcoming books, and if any of the books are part of a series, then I want the title order listed so I know which book to read first.

Everything else after that is gravy. Maps, free short stories, character bios, author autobiography are all fine. As long as they're up to date!

There are a couple authors that I wonder if they're dead or alive. To my way of thinking, if you're not going to keep your info updated, then why have it??? If there's no way to reach you to let you know half your links are broken, if there's no current information on your career and what or when to expect releases, then why do you have a web page?

New authors worry about whether their web page is fancy enough. I've looked at some beautiful pages...with broken links and fancy do-dads that didn't work. Just give me a straight forward business-like page with the information I need. Never forget that the point of having a web page is to disseminate information.

Anything after that is extra.

anny

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www.annycook.com

Paranoia

“Even a paranoid has some real enemies.” Henry Kissinger

“I moved to New York City for my health. I'm paranoid and it was the only place where my fears were justified.” Anita Weiss

“Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they aren't after you” Kurt Cobain

“I'm not a paranoid deranged millionaire. Goddamit, I'm a billionaire.” Howard Hughes

“Paranoids are people, too; they have their own problems. It's easy to criticize, but if everybody hated you, you'd be paranoid too.” D. J. Hicks

You can never be comfortable with your success, you've got to be paranoid you're going to lose it.
Lou Gerstner

“We don't want to make people paranoid, but we want them to be prepared.” Claudia Stein

"Why are you so paranoid, Mulder?"
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's because I find it hard to trust anybody."
- Scully & Mulder, The X-Files, "Ascension"

"Do you remember when you were back in High School and you were convinced that everyone was talking about you behind your back? Well... you were right."~Anny Cook

Anny

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Lab vamps

Over the weekend I went to see the vampires at the lab. Picture me surprised when I was zipped in and out with nary a bruise to show for my visit. The last two times, I came out looking like someone had used me for a punching bag.

The first time, a male vamp attempted to draw my blood. Everywhere he poked me, the blood quit running so he found a new spot. Poke. Blood dried up. Poke. Oh, lookey there! A couple of drops in the tube!
Three days later, I still had massive bruises on my arms.

After that visit, the head vamp admonished me to drink. Lots and lots of water, that is. No caffeine for two days before the labs. Water, water, water. So I kept that in mind for the next visit.

The next time the head vamp (doctor) sent me off to the lab, I went to a different branch. This time I had a female vamp. It was a repeat of the first visit. Poke. Drip. Poke. Drip. Fifteen minutes later, she had the requisite amount of blood needed. And I had four bandaids plastered to my skin. My question? If I wasn't bleeding enough to fill a test tube, why do I need bandaids? Eh?

So I doubled the amount of water. Sloshing like an old wringer washer, I arrived at the lab, filled out paperwork and sashayed into the room, really nervous because while I can deal with the needles in general, come on! Four times?

While I was still psyching myself up for the jab, the technician was slapping a bandaid on my arm. "All done. Pee in this cup." She handed me a little plastic cup, pointed out the bathroom door, and called "Next!"

Now as I took pains to explain to the house hunk, females do not have aiming equipment. Providing a sample is complicated enough without having to aim for a small target. Heck, most guys can't hit the toilet and that's a lot bigger target that a small cup.

And that's not even talking about the three towelettes you're supposed to wash the area with, plus pee first, stop and slip the cup in the approximate position, then pee in the cup--if you guessed right. If not, the cup is not what gets wet.

After my adventures at the lab, we went for a fast breakfast at Panera's and then stopped at Michael's, a large craft store. I mentioned last week that I went to Office Depot to have my book covers printed for me. They're all 11X17 inches. Try finding frames in that size. I finally located some at Michael's so everytime I add a few more book covers to my stable, it means a trip out to Michael's for frames.

Oh, no! There weren't any frames that size. Oops. Wrong aisle. Picked up the frames. Paid for them. Discovered they were all a third off the cover price! Considered going back for some extras, but my better judgement prevailed so we stashed everything in the Cookmobile and came home.

So what did you do over the weekend?

anny

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Spring Contest!

anny


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Caught in the act!

I can't remember how many books I've read where the hero (usually!) is caught someplace where he's not supposed to be and he declares, "Now honey, this isn't what it looks like!" At which point, the heroine stomps off into the sunset. There are a couple hundred pages of misunderstandings and in the last chapter, the heroine finally listens to the hero's explanation. Ta-da! They live happily ever after.

I should stop here and say... this is a valid romance archetype. I don't mind it in the least when it's well done. Especially if the author creates a really unusual reason for her hero/heroine to fail to get back together for a while.

The ones that tick me off are the stories where the entire misunderstanding could be cleared up in about three sentences--and that's usually about how long it takes in the last chapter. Or the ones where the guilty party is REALLY guilty and she takes him back anyway because he's learned his lesson. Uh, no.

At some publishers the misunderstanding is compounded by a secret baby. I have four children of my own and I can tell you there was nothing secret about the process. The guy would have to be deaf, dumb and blind while simultaneously living on a deserted island in order to miss the obvious signs in most of these books. And when the baby is not one, but twins then that stretches my credulity past the breaking point.

I suppose the woman could go to the deserted island, but then you have the difficulty of a) no prenatal care and b) no help delivering the baby. Perhaps that isn't important to either the writers or the readers. I would have a hard time dealing with those issues.

I also find it tough to swallow the story lines where the guy is a secret agent who is a mild mannered Clark Kent type when he's home, but a wild and wooly agent when he's on a mission... and the woman never wonders about him.

Author's note: Mary Stewart wrote one, Airs Above the Ground, but even in that one, the wife suspected something was not quite right.

Perhaps that's why I enjoyed True Lies so much. The wife was really putting him through his paces. I mean, wouldn't you wonder how your husband acquired bullet wounds when he was supposed to be selling insurance in Iowa? And why is it always Iowa? Do they have a particularly high death rate in Iowa? Why not Miami, Florida? Or New York City?

See, I would like to see one of those plots where the wife takes a trip to New York City and just happens to see the husband a couple thousand miles from where he was supposed to be with a grungy lowlife type in a compromising situation. Then let him explain his way out of that! But so far, I haven't read one like that.

Ah, well. It's a sturdy plot device that's been a workhorse in the romance field for good reason. It works. And everyone likes a happy ending.

anny

Belief?

The key to enjoying a book such as one of the Harry Potters, or one of the Narnia Chronicles, or even My Favorite Romance is a simple suspension of disbelief. For a few short hours the reader willingly sets aside all that they have learned through their life to embrace the magic of talking animals or shape shifters or vampires or even far-fetched coincidence. But it is up to the author to shape the story is such a manner that the far-fetched seems not only possible, but highly probable.

Using the picture above as a jump start, how can I as an author convince my readers that the dogs did indeed fetch that log? How can I account for the seeming impossibilities? The simplest way might be to state that the dogs are shape shifters who fetched the log with a tractor. But I think that's sort of cheating. So how else can I deal with the imponderable problem? Perhaps...

Bobo sat on the log, panting in the terrible heat. His fellow warriors, Hazaz and Muri, rested on either side of him as they slowly caught their breath after wrestling the mighty log in place. Their pack shaman had forecast a terrible storm, a storm that would boil up from the sea with seething wind and drenching rains.

All along the beach where the sea met the pack lands, pack warriors were moving tremendous logs into place to serve as protective barriers between the fury of the storm and the vulnerable land. The faintest of whistles caught Bobo's attention. He sat up, searching their surroundings alertly.

"Bo?"

"The storm is coming. Go help the others while I give warning. Hurry!"

Hazaz and Muri leaped down from the log to do his bidding, racing across the sand to help the other teams. Their exhaustion was forgotten in the rush to complete the protective barriers before the storm arrived.

Bobo loped up the beach to the small settlement where the shaman was directing the preparations for the trek inland away from the coast. "The storm is coming!" Bobo yelped.

The shaman uttered a sharp bark. All activity ceased as everyone waited to hear what he would say. "It's time to leave. Bobo will lead the first group. Mothers and pups, go now."

Immediately, Bobo led the way through the grassy capped dunes to the forest. Behind him, scared and subdued pups followed their mothers, anxiously trotting as fast as they could to keep up with the adults. Mothers carefully shepherded the little ones, keeping a sharp eye out for any who might fall behind. Old Marco, blind in one eye and lame, proudly carried a basket with his mate, Maisie's tiny one week old pups. She walked by his side, confident that her mate would protect them all.

On the beach, as the warriors pushed the last log into place, the first howling winds swept in scooping up the sand in terrible scouring whirlwinds. The warriors thundered over the hills for the shelter of the forest. On the highest hummock, the shaman paused for one last look at the long barrier on the beach. And then he turned away, fleeing from the storm.

anny