Champagne versus Sparkling Wine

I was recently talking with a friend of mine about the difference between Champagne and sparkling wine. I live just a piece down the road from Napa Valley, California -- our wine country. It's beautiful over there - lush green rolling hills, vineyards with rows upon rows of grapes, some farms with cows, fresh air, just going for a day is a vacation. Of course visiting the wineries is part of the enjoyment of the area. My favorite is Satutti and I LOVE their madiera. My all time favorite Napa Valley beverage, however, (more than the madiera) is Domaine Chandon Brut champagne - they can call it that because it DOES come from the Champagne region of France. In Napa you cannot call it champagne unless it comes from the original locale. You gotta call it sparkling wine. Sparkling wine can be good, but it's not the original. No where near as good as the original.

I'm one of those homebody types. I like my house, always have. It's in it's own little valley, kind of hidden away and I have great neighbors. Usually I can go off into my own little world and see it come to life as the virtual pages pass by. Sometimes though I need to get out and drive and feel like I've gone somewhere else. Napa has that -- some of the wineries are up on hills, over looking the winding words and vineyards. Some are just off the main highway and of course, there is the old Falcon Crest house. There's nothing like the real deal.

The comfort zone

Michael W. Davis

Davisstories.com

Author of: Tainted Hero (1/08), Forgotten Children (7/08), Blind Consent (4/09), The Treasure (12/07)

For must humans, there’s a place they go to relax, exchange some good words, or just because they feel comfortable there. For example, there’s a little hardware store near my house were all the local males come, like moths to a light. When I was six, it was Charlie’s Shack. My aunts and cousins would take me there to get a moon pie and an RC cola, and a can of snuff for my grandmother. I think most people have a comfort zone that makes them feel welcome and cozy inside.

The other day, I had an epiphany that all my romantic suspense novels possess one common property – they have a comfort zone where the characters return. For example, in FORGOTTEN CHILDREN, it’s a Bar and Grill named Tally’s. The hero and heroine spend a lot of time socializing there, especially on Goobers night every Thursday. In BLIND CONSENT, the hero focused on May’s Emporium, an old country store where the heroine worked. In TAINTED HERO, the hero spent a lot of time in ice cream parlors because he loved to watch the women in his life enjoy sweets. In VEIL OF DECEPTION, it was Ruth’s Place; a convenience store out in the middle of nowhere. In this case, it was an actual place where all the local’s hang out for coffee and a cathead biscuit.

I didn’t notice this pattern in my stories until a reader asked me, “Is there any common theme in the way you create scenes.” Then I realized there is; it’s the use of a comfort zone for the characters. Is that wrong? I don’t think so. As I mentioned earlier, most people have some comfort zone or zones in their lives where they go to get away. Come to think about it, those are the scenes I like writing the most. Maybe it’s just a “me” thing. Perhaps because I relate to gathering holes in my world, it’s just my comfort zone. I’ll have to see if the trend continues in my future stories.

Till next time, be safe.

Big Mike

January Writing Prompt - Vegas

Great news! As there are five Thursdays in January, we get to feature two writing prompts! That'll get the creative juices flowing. So share your best story starter with us!



Invisible, my second novel, releases February 1st, so I thought I'd share an excerpt from it. Of course, it ties into this photo.

$$$

Fresh air. That’s exactly what she needed. Some fresh air to clear out her brain. Had she lost a friend in there? Nikolay had been angry, angry enough to tell her goodbye. Sergei…he didn’t think she was good enough to marry his grandson.

Why did it matter to her? When had they crossed the line between source and friend? This was business.

She was running those thoughts through her mind, having herself a good ol’ fashioned pity party as they stood outside the Bellagio watching the fountains dance in time to the music. The coolness of the night air combined with the wet spray made her skin pucker into goose bumps.

Hagen, without asking, hung his jacket on her shoulders, swamping her. It was warm and smelled like him. He slid his hands around her waist, drawing her close.

If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that he cared, that she wasn’t all alone. That Birger hadn’t died and Sergei thought of her as a worthy friend and Nikolay hadn’t told her goodbye.

But it was a lie. They were all lies. “Hagen.”

$$$

Now, it is your turn!

$$$

Kimber Chin's first novel, Breach Of Trust, a sexy contemporary romance set in the exciting world of venture capital is now available in print and eBook. She shares an original short story every week on her site.

Jane Toombs, The Blog Klutz , Is Back

Why Google and I don't mesh, I'm not sure, but I suspect it's at least partly me. I was not designed to be a computer maven. Still, I tend to be persistent, so Hi, Everyone, glad to be here. Here's a poem I wrote in ?praise? of my recent weather:
WINTER WONDERLAND
by
Jane Toombs
Every day it snows
Sometimes wind blows--
Ole hawk from the north makes snow drift
Piles it up for winter wonder gift
Chills the bones till spirits sink
Makes it difficult to think.
Snow plows battle day and night
Don’t give up without a fight.
Snow and wind a fearful foe
Can’t get out to come and go.
No water shows in the big lake
Frozen ice volcanoes quake.
If only I could hibernate
And wake up after spring has sprung
After all the snow and ice is done.
Winter wonderland, they always say
Those who don’t live here every day.

Today no snow, the sun doth glow, who cares if it's 14 below? Zero F. that is. But the bad weather did make for writing. I'm all but finished with the sixth and last book in The Orphan Triain Series, Once An Outcast, which will be out about May. Have just the last chapter to write, when the six orphan girls who met on the train reunite ten years later. The six of us who wrote these fiction stories about the terrible fates awaiting so many of these orphan girls aboard these trains were not exaggerating about what awaited many of the children who rode the real orphan trains in the late 1800s. The idea was conceived by well-meaning people in Eastern cities who wanted to improve the lives of impoverished and orphaned children. The reality was oftem more grim than they could have imagined. Of course, our six girls overcame what befell them and eventually found love and happiness. What else? You hand a romance writer a terrible situation and she finds a way out for her heroine and eventually a happy ending. If only real life could be the same. Since it isn't, maybe that's why romance books appeal to readers, whether the stories are contemporary, historical, pararanormal or fantasy. And, no, happy endings are not a fantasy. Some of us are lucky enough to find our own in real life. I hope all of you have been or will be so lucky. Jane

Oh the weather outside is frightful...

It's a balmy 17 degrees outside right now. Yesterday afternoon it began sleeting and after depositing a lovely sheet of ice it began to snow. Of course the kids have no school, DH didn't go to work (although he is working from home) which means everyone is here with me...Yay (don't slip in the sarcasm puddle...)

When DH "works from home" and DD is home my diminished focus becomes almost completely impaired. One or both of them need me for something, or DH waits until I'm finally working then he stands behind me and wants to talk. ACK!

I have a project that I was working on and it was going great until I ran out of nursery rhymes. So I'm sending out an appeal to all our fabulous readers, I'm looking for nursery rhymes, I'd p-refer ones that are more obscure or even better ones that are from other cultures!

If you can help out please email me at donica_covey @ sbcglobal.net (no spaces) I hope to hear from some of you soon!

Gotta run, I may actually be able to get some research done anyway!

Hugz
Donica

NEW YEAR - NEW START

NEW YEAR - NEW START

Now is the time to take stock of your writing prowess and your goals.

If, as a writer, you haven’t accomplished what you set out to do, the beginning of a new year is an excellent time to breathe life into your spirit and fire your imagination as well as your fingertips. Daily writing is almost a must to keep the spark alive. Though the flame that burned so bright at first may have lowered to embers because of rejections, lack of time and all the other excuses you can dream up, one flicker of inspiration can bring it back to a raging inferno.

The trick is to stir the energy that originally started you on the course of wonderful adventures.

There is no magic lighter you can whip out to flick on a switch that will cause you to come up with a best seller. But there is perseverence, persistence, and pressure, which, when dutifully applied can blaze inroads that will make your heart pound with delight.

As the old year turns to new, I sincerely hope each one of you writers will latch onto a muse that can guide you into accomplishing all you desire. Carol McPhee

http://www.geocities.com/carolmcphee2003

When Time Is Short

First of all, I hope everyone enjoyed our Holiday Celebration. Many authors contributed lovely excerpts and entertaining reads for us to embrace during the months of November and December.

My life has been full of ups and downs this past few months. At the same time I received a contract for a new book (which I hadn't written yet), tragedy struck our family with the loss of my dear nephew. This brought me to think about what other authors do when faced with deadlines in the midst of turmoil.

Some authors suffer from the 'Sophomore Curse', contracted to write a second or third novel and pressured to do so in a compressed amount of time. Do they 'phone it in' or are they skilled enough to pull it off? Will their writing suffer if asked to rush a subsequent novel?

I mentioned my dilemma on my own blog, and a reader posed an interesting question: Why would I deliver an unpolished manuscript?

Well, here's the story in a nutshell...

New e-pub calls for short stories. I submit a quirky little story for an upcoming anthology. It is accepted. I am now in their author stable.

Later, same pub asks for ideas for novels. I pitch a story about four women in a large media company.

They like the premise. When can I deliver chapters? Oops. I haven't started writing it yet. I ask for a couple of weeks and whip something up.

They like the three chapters. Here's a contract. When can I deliver the manuscript?

Like an idiot, I say December 15th. That should give me about two months for a 50K novel. Hey, those Nano authors can do it, right? A month to write, a month to polish. No praaawblem.

Unexpectedly, a month-long ordeal turns my world upside down; I can't bring myself to write a hot, sexy novel. So I ask for an extension. They say, okay, no problem. They knew about the situation and are very understanding.

So, again like an idiot, I only ask for an extra month when I should have asked for more time. Christmas happens, New Years. Afraid to ask for another extension and look like one of those 'difficult authors' people talk about, I work my arse off to deliver by deadline. My house is a mess, nobody gets rides to the mall, and we all get soft on take-out dinners.

I didn't have time to polish, but fortunately the publisher liked the end result. Any imperfections will likely be smoothed out in edits.

Lesson learned: Ask for WAY more than three months to deliver a manuscript contracted on spec. If you think you can do it in three, ask for four. If you think you can do it in four, ask or five, etc.

An outline or synopsis would also be a big help. But if you're a pantster like me, you're on your own, baby.

What would you do, faced with a similar situation?

The Brotherhood

We've all heard about the brotherhood of police officers, firefighters and servicemen, but few know what that word truly means to the men and women of law enforcement. I have first hand experience with the brotherhood. I am married to a police officer in Maine. My husband has been with this current department for more than 14 years.

For years I knew he trusted his fellow officers. I told stories about his escapes. When his Lieutenant told him he'd better hit the gym to be a part of the SWAT team so that my husband could carry the Lieutenant's "fat ass" out of a building if it was needed, I laughed and repeated the story as most good storytellers would.

When officers get together to drink and blow off steam, they also regal stories about the calls they go on and the people they encounter. They are with their buddies and it's safe.

Now, there is camaraderie and there is brotherhood - there is a difference.

Our police department has been hit hard the last eight months. Two officers have died, one from a gun shot would and one of natural causes. When these tragedies happen, it tests the police department on every level.

I have never seen another group band together and rally around families like I saw after these men passed away. The first death was in May and because it was accidental people came from everywhere to celebrate his life and to show support for their brother. There was a parade of officers and the pictures of the sea of uniforms were amazing. I chose not to go to the funeral on that day. I did go to the calling hours the night before. A long line of officers and their spouses waited to express their sorrow to the wife and children.

Meals were made for the families, an officer in a marked car stood post outside the family home and scholarship funds were set up for the officer's children.

No one ever expects that something like this would happen to their family and we hope it never will, but when you're in the police department you are never alone.

At the funeral that took place last Saturday, the wife was in shock. Her 52-year-old husband of two years was dead. Regardless that she had only been married for two years, she was a part of us. As the wife of a police officer she was to be protected and will be helped.

Officers from many area agencies showed up to honor the 19-year-veteran of the police department. It was -26 degrees that morning, yet they solemnly lined the streets as the casket was brought into the auditorium.

It's hard to sit through something like that without thinking about my own husband and what I would do if something happened to him. Would I want them to play sappy music? Who would I want to speak about him and the man he was? What would I do with my children? It's morbid to consider, but it's the reality for a police officer's family.

The wives sat together at the funeral, much like the wives of professional athletes. We laughed when one man told us that the officer had once said at a home they were arresting someone at... "This crown molding would look great in my house."

And we held hands and cried as the American flag was given to the wife and the officer's badge was given to his 12-year-old daughter. It was truly heart breaking.

The brotherhood of police officers is a tight knit group of men and women who risk their lives every day for our safety. Until you are near that circle and touch inside the bubble, you can only imagine what it's like and hope that if some tragedy should happen in your family that you have the same kind of support.

To bring this all back around to writing, since this is a writing blog. Writer's tend to have a their own type of support system. When a new writer finds out that others hear voices and create their own worlds, it's a great relief to discover there are others like you. Only another writer/author knows what the disappointment of rejection feels like and the thrill of acceptance when a contract comes across her desk.

We all write about what we love and the things we know or have researched. When I wrote "Flashbangs and Nightsticks", I drew on my experiences with police officers and although I never dealt drugs, my husband did light a bed on fire with a flashbang.

Thanks for listening.

Jillian Hallowell

"Flashbangs and Nightsticks"

"Lace, Lust and Liars" Released today at http://www.carnalpassions.com/.

Police photos taken by Kelly Watters.

Forever Faithful in now out in print!

I'm so pleased Forever Faithful is now out in print. Though I love to read ebooks, my family (which is large) still prefer a paperback. So, with two family reunions coming up, I'll just happen to have a few copies on hand.

This story portrays a young married couple who have everything, but trials, tribulations, and misunderstandings along the way wreck havoc on their relationship. Mixed in is a murder and hidden secrets from the past. Set in Stony Creek in the Texas Hill Country, I strove to give the reader a flavor of what life is like in small town Texas. I hope you'll read Lucas and Gail's story.

Thanks!

Linda

The Holiday Book Celebration Winners!

Wowsers, we had some great entries in our Holiday Book Celebration contest. Many of them (especially the favorite memories contest) moved this cynical businessgal to tears. Definitely a multi-hanky read.

Our winners (drawn by my handy random number generator) are

1. Favorite Holiday Book
Prize:
a prize pack from Barbara Baldwin
and
an ecopy of Linda LaRoque's Forever Faithful

Winner: Jo Ann

2. Favorite Holiday Movie Or TV Show
Prize:
a copy of A Christmas Wedding Wager
and
a copy of either Viking Warrior Unwilling Wife or A Question of Impropriety
from Michelle Styles

Winner: Jody F
(She decided upon Viking Warrior Unwilling Wife and An Impulsive Debutante)

3. Favorite Holiday Memory
Prize:
a gorgeous UK hardcover of
Eloisa James' An Affair Before Christmas

Winner: Debbie

All winners have been contacted (and are busy doing the happy dance).
Thank you to all readers and authors for participating.
We had SO much fun hosting these excerpts!

January

I’m not going to lie. I hate this time of year. It’s no surprise to anyone who knows me, I despise winter. The bitter cold, the wind and mud…and snow…endless snow.

And then you have January. The post holiday let down. Taxes, both income and property, Christmas bills, the exuberant electric bill from hours of operating that mechanical Santa.

But January is also a turning point. A new beginning. It’s the one time of the year when you can wipe the slate clean and begin again. I always make writing goals in January. They usually involve aspects in which I have no control, like finding an agent or gaining a larger readership. Both things I cannot control. Goals I’ve placed in a stranger’s hands.

This year I’m going to write more, work harder at promotion. I may not be able to sway an agent into taking me on, but I certainly can get more work in front of them. I can’t control how many people buy my latest book, but I can put more promotional hours in. Another aspect in my control.

Now…if I could only stick to my weight loss resolutions.

Thanks for visiting.

~ Nancy

http://www.nancyhenderson.com

http://www.nancyhenderson.blogspot.com

Getting To This Point

So, it's been a few months since my last blog post here, so I'm a bit out of practice. :-)

That being said, I plan on taking this post to follow in the footsteps of fellow TWVer, Ciara Gold, and do a little bit of bio work.

How did I get to this point?

Without going into too much of the boring past, I finished editing my first novel back in the mid-nineties. As with many new authors (especially before the vastness of the internet), I figured that the process at that point was just to find a publisher and get the book published. Don't laugh, but I actually looked in the local phone book. Oddly, that led in a roundabout way to receiving an offer for publication from Vantage Press. All it would take was $10K to get everything started. :-)

Even a novice like I was back then realized there was something wrong with that picture.

Fast forward to the turn of the century. I'd realized the error of my ways, and started submitting that first novel around to agents and publishers to no avail. Even with more knowledge than I had, I still hadn't realized what a publishable novel was supposed to be. I put the first one aside, and finished yet another novel.

Enter a small footnote in the history of publishing, the Time Warner entry into the POD market, iPublish. Those who think recent forays into finding publishable material through contests where people critique others' work are something new must realize that even back in 2001, this little site was a major publisher's attempt to find new talent and publish them through a POD-style method (I won't bore anyone with those details).

Needless to say, my novel didn't find its way into publication with iPublish and Time Warner. But I did meet many other writers online, some of whom I still know today. One of these commented to me about a publisher who'd just accepted their book. I decided to take a chance and submit my manuscript. To my elation, they acccepted mine as well.

Unfortunately, as they say about a bad agent being worse than no agent at all...the same can be said for publishers. Overpriced books, no editing, horrible covers, and many other issues that I won't bore you with here. My first realization of this publisher being a problem was the fact that my "editor" sent me back basically what I'd sent in for my original submission. It just went downhill from there. Being with this particular publisher did horrible damage to my desire to write, bringing me close to giving up on it all for many years. Knowing that they had no quality control on their acceptances made me question how crappy my work really was. For many years, my book was stuck with this house, until I finally received my release papers after a long period of zero sales by my own insistence not to promote the book.

At that point, I had long given up on that novel. I'd begun learning much more about the publishing process, about writing in general, and had moved on to other novels and introduced myself to the art of writing short stories.

On a lark, I mentioned to some others a proposed plan of mine to distribute that first novel for free, just to build a fan base for future novels and short stories. But one of those who heard my plan suggested that I should try an e-publisher, and sent me along to Champagne Books.

I pondered the idea for a long time. I'd jumped at the chance of publication the first time, and had been burned severely. Could I trust this company after that? Needless to say, I discovered that their pricing was decent, their covers were excellent, and they seemed very professional in their dealings. I decided to take that chance, but realized that the piece which had been so easily accepted back in the day was nowhere close to publication.

So, I took it upon myself to completely revamp my original novel, including giving it a new title. I submitted my piece and had it accepted. To my relief, I had a true editor, my cover art was awesome, and the rest as they say is history.

So, now the question is, where do I go from here?

My plan at the moment is to get my second novel published (hopefully finding an agent and a major publisher), and then others. I still work my tail off to finish short stories. The pay isn't substantial, but joy comes from readers finding my work and enjoying it.

And my suggestion to all of you out there would be to learn as much as you can about the publishing process before jumping in with both feet.

Birth of a Best Seller

It's been two and a half years since Celestial Dragon made its debut and this book is still selling well. Not only that, but it's still getting great reviews. I just recieved a wonderful e-mail from Trevas letting me know he'd written an unsolicited review and would I like to share. His glowing words made my day, so oh yeah, I'd love to share. (Thank you, Trevas) Here's a snippet: "From the second page on I was hooked. I was drawn into the story, and not only was I prompted to read the book through in one sitting (as an avid read I do often do that if I find a good book), I also bought the next book in the series the next day. Really, the only thing that disappointed me is that there isn’t yet a third and fourth book in the series!" And you can read the full review at eBookGuru.org

So what is my secret? Faith and a whole lot of luck? Truly, I was astounded by the response this book generated especially from an unknown author. I thought perhaps it might be fun to talk about the birth of Celestial Dragon.

In 2005, one of my author buds, Kim Lenox, invited me to be a part of a critique group. This was the first "crit" group I'd belonged to, and I really didn't know what I was doing, but the other gals held my hand and together we all sharpened our skills. Each of us had a strength that we could share and weaknesses we needed to cure. The trust and friendship we gained through the experience continues to this day.

As a challenge, one of the ladies, Tam, suggested we all enter the OFTS contest sponsored by one of the online RWA chapters. The contest only required 10 pages. Several of us picked up the gauntlet, me included. I'd never attempted anything paranormal but I felt inspired by the idea. That night I wrote, and wrote and wrote. My Muse went crazy. I put the twenty pages into the crit folder. The next day, I opened my e-mail and Tam's subject line read: OMG, Jami. I knew then I had a winner.

And indeed, those ten pages won first place in that contest, first place in another contest and fourth in yet another. Winning inspired me to finish the book so I plugged away at it until I had a rough draft. Unfortunately, agents and editors weren't interested in contracting the story. I had lots of nibbles on my query letters, but no one wanted it after reading the first three chapters. (Their loss)

At the same time, Phyllis Campbell had recently signed on with Champagne and had only good things to say. I was very leery of going the e-book route until I went to my RWA chapter meeting and one of our members had an article on Japanese business men downloading books to their cellphones while they rode commute trains. My first thought - e-books are the way of the future and this article proves it. After that, Phyllis didn't have to try as hard to convince me to submit to an e-publisher. I queried three, but Champagne was the first to respond. A week later, I was offered a contract.

Naive and a bit out of my element, I floundered, but Phyllis guided me through joining reading loops. I began chatting with folks and talking about my book six months prior to its release. Timing was great. The loops weren't yet flooded with all the promo posts and readers actually talked to you. Now, they mostly lurk. A lot of good things fell into place for me. I won a three day chat on Romance Junkies that I enjoyed a week after Celestial Dragon came out. I didn't promo much. I was more interested in just chatting. I think the readers appreciated that. In that three day time, I answered lots of questions and sent out only one excerpt.

So what made Celestial Dragon such a successful book? First, science fiction is a hot genre and readers are fascinated with dragons. I wrote a book from my heart and it showed, but other factors fell into place as well. My beginning readers helped spread the word and great reviews garnered attention for the newbie author. And like Trevas said in his review, I blended several genres together, thus creating a unique world.

With seven published books under my belt, Celestial Dragons continues to be my number one selling book. Readers will be happy to know, I am working on a third in the series. But be patient. I write slow.

Technology and Men

Begging the pardon of the male audience, but I'll confess that I don't understand the fascination with all the new technology. As soon as something new shows up in the marketplace, I have two sons
and a husband who HAVE to have whatever it is. Have you seen the new remote control, an all in one, for the TV, the radio, the disk player, the computer, even a mircowave all in one device, if you have the right code? I haven't figured out how to work it yet!

I don't know how many hard drives, scan disks, new printers or computers have passed through this house. If it's new it's bound to find a place here until the next new thing arrives.

That goes for the new devices used to find directions while driving, new phones, even those phone gadgets that fit in the ear so you can talk hands free.

I guess my lack of understand of this part of the male psychy explains in part why I really like to write from the female point of view. I even like first person female as in the traditional gothics. I'm certain my difficulty with these techy toys keeps me firmly in the past, with iron skillets, horse and buggy and
log cabins.

I used all of those and more in my latest book, coming out in March. I call it a romantic romp through the Yukon, but it takes place before the gold rush of Alaska. My hero has no technological gadgets to use, and must tan his furs by hand. In my research I learned how leather is tanned and believe me, it's not pretty.

If someone could explain the masculine desire to possess the latest new devices, I sure appreciate it. Maybe then I could write a contemporary romance.

Allison Knight

An Editing Affliction

Sometimes I just can’t help but view the world as an editor. It’s an affliction, I know. I am currently seeking professional help.

I’m sure it’s because I write for a living and do some editing on the side that makes everything I read – from building signs to newspaper articles to books published by big New York publishers – show up as glaring errors in neon lights.

For instance, there’s a facility in Mesa, Arizona which belongs to the public school system and part of the sign says “maintenence” (and these are the people teaching our kids? Scary…).

I can’t even read a book anymore purely for enjoyment. As I read, I not only edit and proofread the book as I go along, I tend to look for plot lines and match scenes to the story genre ARC.

The worst part of this affliction, however, is the inability to listen to a song, a song playing on the radio, for chrissakes, and not think about the way it should have been written.

Case in point: “Winner at a Losing Game” by Rascal Flatts. The line “Have you ever had to love someone that just don’t feel the same?”

That just don’t feel the same? What, are they talking about coffee tables?
How about “Have you ever had to love someone who just don’t feel the same?” Now we’re talking about human beings.

I know, I know. It’s an affliction.
I’m seeking professional help. Really.

Send your donations to:
GEEKS (Genetically Engineered Editorial Knowing Syndrome)
Email: geeks@lostcauses.com
Thank you for your support.

Candace Morehouse
Author & Editor
www.candacemorehouse.com

Disclaimer: this is not a real email address.

Space Vixens

Never ever give a writer like me an idea. When my publisher announced a new erotic romance imprint...


SPACE VIXENS
By
K. M. Tolan


I hate furries. Combining gene splicing and bad anime - what the hell were they thinking?
“Blurble”.
I took a long drag off my smoke and blew rings into the llama’s face across the counter. The guy was new. Obviously. “Mail. Did I get any mail?”
“Gwark?”
The trouble with furries was that you never knew which direction the boutique boys started from. Except with chumps like this. Figuring a knuckle sandwich would just get drool on my fist, I turned and carded my way into the office building’s interior. It stank of mildew, and I probably smelled worse from the booze.
Lance Tripod, Private Dick. That’s what is says on the sign. Says nothing about not having a good case in months. Fishing an ident out of a trench coat that had seen one too many refabricators, I stuck the tab into the door’s rusty slot and pushed my way into the dingy office. Tossing my lid on a pile of bills, I sagged back into the desk chair, not bothering with the lights. Electricity wasn’t cheap on the wheel. Neither was the looker who detached herself from the shadows.
“Don’t trouble yourself, Mr Tripod,” she murmured in a throaty voice, gesturing with a wicked looking gat.
I pulled my hand away from the shoulder holster and straightened my tie. Long gams, copper-and-black hair, and breasts you could get lost in. A classy dame with no business here. “What’s your name, doll face?”
“Floozie…and don’t ask. I ever find the bastard that named me and…” She stopped, as if realizing her lips had started flapping. She sat down on the old chair across from the desk, slipping her piece back into a hip holster. “One can’t be too careful. There’s whiskey in your left drawer. I’ve a nose for such things.”
“Bet you do, lady,” I replied, rubbing at the black mess that was my hair. She could’ve aired me out. I was getting careless. I wasn’t, however, putting up with pushy broads. “Take a hike.”
“Excuse me?’
“Blow, before I give you a good spanking with that piece of yours.”
Her big puppy dog eyes narrowed. “As much as I might like that, Mr Tripod, lets get down to business. I need your services, and your ship.”
I pointed the way out.
“Fine, Mr Tripod. Have it your way.” She stood up and turned with a quick twist of hip.
“Nice tail,” I murmured.
“I can hear good too,” she answered before slamming the door after her.
Burying my smoke in a tray of last night’s sushi, I pulled open the left drawer and hauled out tonight’s liquid feast.
~*~
I woke with a bunch of apes playing “slap the monkey” on my brain, and my mouth tasted like they’d been doing something else too. Groaning, I sat up.
~*~
I opened my eyes to the same chimp wrecking crew doing something unattractive to a chipmunk in my head. They left a nice goose egg on my noggin for my troubles. I stared up at the low hanging air duct plastered with a Betty Crocker pinup…and a fresh dent. This was the captain’s cabin in my ship – the Maltese Tongue. What the hell was I doing here? A steady vibration below the stained carpet told me we were underway.
This time I rolled out of bed before standing up. Something stank, and it wasn’t just my sweat-soaked shirt. The first place I headed for was the cabin’s bathroom.
~*~
The second lump on my head came from hitting the floor. Hard. My trousers had been yanked down to my ankles. No monkey had done that. Least I hoped not. Pulling up my britches, I lurched into the bathroom and reached behind the toilet for the gun kept there for special occasions like this. Nothing. Pulling open the medicine cabinet, I drank a few ounces of Doctor Daniel’s all-purpose cure and started playing “find the gat”. It wasn’t a big cabin, but then the Maltese Tongue wasn’t a big ship. Used to belong to a high-rolling hooker until she lost a bet. I pulled the choke collar on that memory fast, having bigger fish to fry right now. Empty bottles clinked like a beer blast down at the AA, but no heater. Somebody had done a good job. I glanced at the bottom of my cabin door. That somebody was casting a shadow just outside. The brass knucks in my pants pocket slipped onto my fist with all the familiarity of a dog in heat. I wrenched open the door.
“Blurble?”
“Lights out, llama,” I grated, connecting my reinforced haymaker with its snout. The furry hit the back wall, leaving a grease streak as it slid to the floor with its tongue lolling to one side. Should’ve told him that llamas and pinstripe suits don’t mix. I checked the furry for a gun, but only came up with a wad of cocoa leaves. I headed down the hall to the bridge, trying to keep my size ten’s from making any racket on the plasti-steel tiles. It was time to take them for a nice drive up somebody’s caboose.
And what a caboose it was. She was hunkered over the navigator display, showing me her best assets. It was Floozie. A moment later she was showing me that gat of hers. “Hello, Mr. Tripod. Awake, I see?”
I edged around the pilot’s chair, watching the dame with one eye while taking a quick look at the screens with another. The wheel was still there, spinning against purple star fields like my head. Floozie hadn’t got very far. “Anything to say before I bust you in the chops, lady?”
“You can say thank you for the opportunity to make five hundred large ones,” she replied with a toothy grin. “Five hundred grand, Mr. Tripod. Use that brain of yours for a change and think about it.”
I rubbed the stubble on my jaw. Cabbage like that could shake a lot of things loose in the hock shop. Including this ship. “So how did you get the Tongue out?”
“Very slowly,” Floozie replied, licking those gorgeous lips of hers in emphasis. With a free hand she pulled a black diamond collar off her throat and tossed it to me. “Recognize it?”
“Yeah, it’s a ringer for the Norman Collar. Hope you didn’t waste money on this.” I didn’t add that the fences were on the lookout for the real deal. Somebody had lifted it from the Literary Museum only a few weeks back. My eyes narrowed. “You’re after it.”
“It belongs to me, Mr. Tripod. I had it on loan to the museum. It was switched with the collar in your hand.” Her smile was all canines. “I want it back. Quietly. That’s where you come in.”
“You’re not a lady who takes no for an answer.”
She shook her head in a wave of gold and black locks. “I’m told you’re not a man who gives up on a case, either. Will you take my case now, Mr Tripod?”
I shrugged. She had all the cards. And the dough. “It’s a C-Note a day, plus expenses. Five hundred grand at payday.”
She lowered her heater. “You won’t regret this…”
“Lady, I already am.” My right cross finished thanking her. I pulled the heater from her fingers and pulled her limp body up into the co-pilot’s chair. Broads. Give them a gun and they think they’re somebody.
I gave the collar a harder look. Yeah, there it was, on the inside of the leather. The stamp of a British huntsman with a bugle shoved up his ass. “Space Vixens,” I muttered. The uglier rumors were true. The one thing I hated more than furries was a gang of em, and these dames were the worst. With that reminder, I went back and gave llama boy another knuckle sandwich to chew on. Wiping the drool from my fist, I pulled a bottle of Kentucky’s finest from beneath the navigation console and worked up a course to the outer rim. I had a rendezvous with a chicken farmer.

I'll probably never finish this...but then you never know.
Kerry
Newest SF novel "Waiting Weapon" is out!

Celebrating the New Year 2009

My husband and I aren't party people. We've been known to sit up until the new year, eating cheese and drinking wine until the ball falls, but we do not go out.

Several years ago, my siblings, cousins, and other family members went to Fredericksburg, TX, and stayed in cabins. We shopped, visited museums, cooked out on the grill, and played games. It was loads of fun.

Last year, several of the family got together at a B&B in the Lake Whitney area. Due to my mother-in-law's illness, we were unable to go.

This year we met in historic Salado and stayed at the Rose Mansion. Built in 1872, it was interesting, but I've decided I'd need an elevator to get up and down those stairs. We were in the Sallie Suite and had to go down several stairs to reach our bathroom. The clawfoot tub was built up on a platform. The temperature in our room was either hot or cold, but the ambience and breakfast was fabulous. If you want to take a step back in time, visit one of these historical B&Bs.

While there, we ate at the Famous Stagecoach Inn. My husband and I spent our honeymoon there in the lodge 41 years ago, returned to eat at the restaurant on our sixth month anniversay, so it was nice to visit again. The food was fabulous.

Anyway, here's to new goals, family, and making memories.

Today, I'm also blogging at the Cactus Rose Blog at http://twrpcactusrose.blogspot.com/

and will share details about the little town of Salado and it's famous visitors.

Happy reading and writing.

Linda

Happy New Year

2009! How did you celebrate the beginning of another new year? Did you party hardy, making as much noise as possible? That's the custom, we scream and shake noisemakers, blow horns even bang pot lids together like cymbals. Some people fire guns in the air. [Hopefully they're outside at the time.]

Making as much of a racket as we can to bring in the New Year is a tradition. But why do we do it?

Was the previous year so bad we're that elated to see it gone? Could be, but we're really following a ritual that was started centuries ago by primitive man. The purpose was to drive away demons. Guess all that noise was supposed to scare them evil spirits right out of the village, but why they waited for the beginning of a new year to do it is beyond me.

Here's wishing you a happy and prosperous 2009, and may all your town's demons still be running.

Rose Lerma
www.roselerma.com

Fullfilling Dreams

For all its rushing, pressure, stress and other drama that can happen during the holiday season, it is also a time for the child in us to peek out and once again touch the world. If even for a fleeting moment, like a treasure glimpsed through the mists, even as adults, we believe in a jolly old elf who will make our dreams come true or bring us our heart's desire. We set aside the glare of the shopping malls, the tedium of looking for just the right gift for the person who has everything and see the magic of the season.

In the city where I live there is a house -- the Rombiero house -- that people come from all over the Bay Area to see. As early as September the family begins to decorate the house, they have over 70,000 lights, I forget the number of angel, santa, and assorted character figures they have, they decorate literally every inch of their law and several rooms in their house. And then, in mid-December they open their home to the public. There is the Santa room with several hundred -- truly -- Santas, some antiques dating to the 19th century from what the family says, there is the train room, and my favorite the angel room. I went with a friend tonight. We drove by to look at the outside the other day, but tonight we decided to go in and say hello.

I stopped counting at 37 angels tonight -- each one exquisitely done.

The Rombieros have done this for 17 years -- for themselves, yes, but mostly for the joy it gives those who come by and take a peek. Four years ago I was on duty at the police department when the night they were due to open the father died of a heart attack. Once the medical call was completed we asked to see what we could do with the crowds that were coming -- after all the family needed time. Instead, they decided that despite their grief, continuing their father and husband's dream was the best way to honor the man they loved so well. They opened the house that night and even with their own loss, they continued on because it was his dream and one they felt they could fulfill for him. They said they would mourn him later.

Four years later they still miss him, those of us who would chat with him when we went by still miss his warmth, his gift for making you feel like you were a friend and not a stranger coming to see their magical house.

I thought about this tonight on my way home. About my plans, my new year's resolutions, my dreams. Going tonight, as the 2008 holidays dwindle into the past, was the perfect time to remember my dreams. The magic that I want in my life. Mr. Rombiero left an incredible legacy through his Christmas house dream. I hope that someday my writing, my books, the stories I have to tell, will also inspire someone.

Dreams are a wonderful thing -- I plan to make mine a living reality.

Happy new year.

Fictional Heart Strings

Michael W. Davis

Davisstories.com

Author of: Tainted Hero (1/08), Forgotten Children (7/08), Blind Consent (4/09), The Treasure (12/07)

I was having a cup a coffee the other day when a female friend ventured by, tapped me on the shoulder, and continued to the counter to get her own mug of brew. For simplicity, let’s call her Joy. On her return passage by my table, Joy seat down across from me, and began to chat. I love it when my local friends and acquaintances offer idle chit chat. Joy is a sweet but mysterious young lady. She coveys a unique reflection about life and all its complexities. Behind those green eyes resides a spark and compassion that is missing in many of today’s lost souls. Finally she came to a topic we often discuss, my books. You see, she loves to read my stories. I’m not sure whether it’s because she really likes them or because I’m the only author she knows.

Anyway, she began to ask about a character in a particular story (TAINTED HERO) and discuss how touched she was at what happened to this particular person. Then she caught me off guard with the question, “Isn’t it hard to do that?” I smiled with pride, “A little.” Joy continued. “I thought so. I’m not sure I could do that. I thing I’d be crying over the keyboard.” Then I realized the insight of this young women’s inquiry. She wasn’t asking about the creativity process; she was probing into the nature of people to empathize with the plight of others, even if they were some fictional character that was conjured from their own mind. And she was right. I remembered back to when I struggled with that particular scene. I was moved, not to tears, but my throat actually tightened and I wanted to reach through the screen and help the character, and especially to strangle the villain. I was so moved, I actually changed the outcome. In my original outline the female character died, but I was so struck by her and all she had gone through, I couldn’t deal with losing her. She still suffered, but she survived.

Then I realized I had experienced this same heartstring relationship with fictional characters in all my stories. I guess they became so real I empathized with their plight. I know it sounds weird to be moved by a scene evolving out of your own head, but I really do. Some stories more then others, but always to some degree. Maybe that’s why I enjoy that first breath of the story when I initially create the scenes, and see it happening for the first time. I remember in one story (Shadow of Guilt) I was moved to such a degree, I literally had to stop and go outside to split some wood and relieve my anguish. The character was suffering so deeply, her path in life so sad, I couldn’t stand it.

I know that’s strange, especially for a big guy, and I’m not a wussy, but don’t most of us choke up when we see another human suffering. In this case I hated the outcome of the story, but I couldn’t change it. It was what the novel was all about. Without her history, what this poor girl experienced, you had no Shadow of Guilt.

I’m curious if other authors encounter this same heartstring response when their fictional characters undergo pain and sorrow. Or maybe it’s just me. Perhaps I need to get some testosterone injections to reaffirm my guyhood. My wife always did say I was too emotional (g).

See ya in a month.

Big Mike

Davisstories.com

January Writing Prompt

When I took this photo of poppies on the train tracks, I knew a million stories could come from it. So please share the start of your story in the comments.



I'll start…

$$$

A man glanced at Simone, at her suitcase, and then back again at Simone.

She tightened her grip on the handle. If he thought he was going to steal her suitcase, he had another thing coming. No, she wouldn't let him, the clothes and photos inside all she had to show for her 30 years of living.

She was alone, Barry using her job transfer as a justification to dump her and date his 20 something, too-perky-for-words secretary. She was homeless, or at least between homes, until she could find a new apartment in Boston. All her other possessions had been sold, painful reminders of a past she'd rather forget.

The man walked away. Good. Simone balanced on the edge of the platform, peering forward. The tracks stretched before her endlessly out into the horizon. What was…? There was color, a splash of red on the tracks. Simone narrowed her eyes, focusing on the spot. Flowers, there were flowers growing amidst the chaos.

Hope.

$$$

Now, it is your turn!

$$$

Kimber Chin's first novel, Breach Of Trust, a sexy contemporary romance set in the exciting world of venture capital is now available in print and eBook. She shares an original short story every week on her site.