The Novelty Girls

Okay anyone who got that quote is cool in my book lol

Speaking of books- I have a release out today. Lux in Shadow is now available at Samhain Publishing.

No matter how many times it happens, I’m still all jittery and nervous. Excerpts? Jittery and nervous. I’m afraid I’ll get the equivalent of rotten cyber tomatoes tossed at my head for pretending to be a writer. I know. I know. I’m a spaz.

Surprise.

Fear is my biggest mountain in this lifetime. To list all the things that make me shiver would be laughably long. Today I’m conquering fear of failure. Jury is still out on that one. I’ll get back to you later. LOL

We are not exactly a world at peace with ourselves. Alliances falter and crumble, walls and belief structures continue to divide us. From the Cold war to the current issues around the globe-the human race doesn’t usually make a habit of true unity.

But every four years we have the Olympics. Yes its still a competition, but its also a symbol of our connection. We come together; athletes from every country striving for excellence, supporters from every community cheering in the stands, huddled around television sets together. Politicians may use that time to make grandiose statements or backdeals…but for us…well for us I think the Olympics symbolize something to strive for.

The flag that waves:

Five interlocking rings that represent “the coming together of five parts of the world, joining in healthy competition”. To me it symbolizes how we are bound together. Different but necessary to eachother.

The Olympic Torch:

There is a lot of ritual around the lighting of the torch. “Months before the Games are held, the Olympic Flame is lit on a torch, with the rays of the Sun concentrated by a parabolic reflector, at the site of the Ancient Olympics in Olympia, Greece. The torch is then taken out of Greece, most often to be taken around the country or continent where the Games are held…the day of the Opening Ceremony, the Flame reaches the main stadium and is used to light a cauldron situated in a prominent part of the venue to signify the beginning of the Games. Then it is left to burn throughout the Games till the Closing Ceremony, when it is extinguished to signify the end of the Games. “

Fire was stolen from the gods by Prometheus so that he could give that knowledge to mankind, for which he was creatively punished. Fire not only sustains us physically, it also represents the spirit that burns within us, and the light of the mind that forces us to discover, to create, to grow.

Passing the torch is a saying for sharing our knowledge with the next generation, so that they may replace and yes, surpass us.

The original Olympic games were a series of athletic competitions between various city-states in Greece around the 776 BC . During the games ekecheiria  or a truce was observed. No armies were allowed to enter the area, wars were suspended and the use of the death penalty forbidden. Also the athletes were naked. A tradition that has, unfortunately, been revised.

Our fascination with the great ancient society eventually revived our interest in the games. And since then, they’ve been a moment out of time. A moment where we look forward to joining with other cultures of the world in a shared love of excellence and perserverance. A shared fascination with the stories of unbending will, unyielding spirit. A shared hope for unity and victory in the face of insurmountable odds.

During the games, we remember we are one human race. More alike than different, more connected than we can even comprehend. As long as that fire is lit, and that golden medallion of triumph beckons us to be the best, we are united.

Gotta love the Olympics.

Heading out tomorrow. My feelings can best be described in this YOUTUBE medley.

I’m Leaving On A Jet Plane

But Think of Me Fondly

And I’ll Be Back Soon

Cause I Dont Need Anything But You

Crystal started a topic that I feel I’m really well prepared for. Internet time wasters.

Youtube has really become a huge one, and Yahoo games like Bookworm and Alchemy.  Of course all the forums, Romance Divas, Passionate Ink, Samhain yahoo group etc.

Then there are all the blogs to go to, sexy guy pics on Beautiful  http://www.beautifulmag.eu/beautiful/ Not to mention youtubes evil twin…um…nevermind, thats research, not time wasting *blush*

And because this is an election year and I’m a hippie I have to check out Huffington Post, Crooks and Liars, Politico etc-for five million versions of the same three stories. I’m kind of obsessive that way. lol

Its amazing I have time to write.

Yes, I know. I’m late. I’m so late that in a few hours I will be officially TOO late. Sorry guys

Books-well-usually I cannot stop talking about favorite authors and the books I love. I have far too many to list in one blog post. My idea of heaven is a stack of paranormal romances on one side, some Graham Hancock and old dusty books about ancient mythology and religion on the other. And lots and lots of time.

One of the only downsides to being an author is that all the time I used to spend reading, I now spend writing. But as someone pointed out to me recently, reading is a very important part of this career, keeping your finger on the pulse etc.

So tomorrow I am going to go get a couple of books and just read, to celebrate the story that WILL. BE. FINISHED. TONIGHT.

Anyone who wants to give me some ideas, feel free.  As of right now, I’m stealing Crystals list-but I’m open to suggestions.

Are these the bodies of lazy slobs, couch potatoes, closet bingers? Are these statues versions of ancient Before photos, showing what we used to look like before we took hydroxycut or phen phen or lived on grapefruit juice, desperately trying to copy those air-brushed hotties or metabolistically speedy freaks who look fantastic in string bikinis?

No.

These are images of the goddess. Images that were worshipped by men. Worshipped for the curve of their thighs and the ample sensuality of her breasts. Diefied for the fertility in her hips, promising the richness of the crop and the miracle of new life, season after season.

Does this knowledge make me feel better about myself as I lie across my bed, red faced from wrestling a stubborn zipper? Not at all. I too, am a victim of our obsession with body image. At least I didnt come of age in the 70’s when Twiggy was considered a sexpot. I may have drowned myself in double fudge chocolate ice cream.

I’ve always been pleasantly plump, and being a writer is 50% creativity, 50% sitting, so I’ve gained substantial  posterior on my journey.  I now flop in places I should bounce, and jiggle in places I should…well…NOT.

But I’m trying to logic myself out of my depression. As a teenager I just wanted to be hot. Now? I just want to be strong and healthy. I love my husband and my life and I want to experience it for as long as I can, in as good health as I can. So I’m working out in order to ensure that future.

And I’m trying to remember the goddess. The paragon of femininity who is not ashamed of her body, who revels in her voluptuous repose. And reminding myself that beauty is not static, and that we are all the goddess, in our own, unique way.

Okay, we are talking about genetic manipulation this week. Its not an easy topic, but it is fascinating. As a science fiction lover I know all about the warnings, and they aren’t too far off base. We’re not exactly the most patient species. Whenever we discover something new-we must use it right away. We’re instinctively obsessed with leaping blind into voids. Naturally curious. Which is not necessarily a bad thing.

My own thoughts are very personal. I had a rough childhood. I was sickly, with asthma and tons of allergies. I was short and overweight. I had crooked teeth and frizzy hair. If I could have taken a pill to turn me into a tall, thin blonde with a beaming white smile and a tiny waist I would have in an instant. Then.

But not now.

All of my experiences and even-if not especially-my deficiencies-have made me who I am. I learned empathy and developed my imagination. I learned to laugh at myself and how to walk through the world my way, on my terms.

Now you might say, what about serial killers and psychotic dictators? We could wipe them out completely. Well, as someone noted yesterday, though tempting, if you wipe out all the crazy then you could lose creativity: art and music, fiction etc, even science and invention…all the prodigies gone.

If we all became uniformly exceptional, then none of us would be.

You could also say we transplant organs, and replace blood and surgically alter our bodies. Inject poison into our foreheads, enlarge our breasts-there are even people seriously considering having wings and tails grafted onto their bodies.  So what makes genetic alteration different?

How easy would it be, do you think, to turn the desire to change a genetic predisposition to heart disease into the perfect child? A genius with enhanced senses and physical abilities. A human without flaw.

I don’t deny or question the science. The science is tremendous and amazing and potentially world altering. It can be used to heal and end suffering.  I question the people who use it. We have not been genetically altered. We are not perfect. We are burdened with darker emotions and personal agendas and the desire for instant gratification.

I believe in the soul. And as tough as it sometimes is to swallow, I believe that the physical and emotional challenges we face are all expressions of lessons our soul needs to learn to evolve. If we artificially create perfection, is that evolution…or cheating?

As most of you know, my mom was in the film industry as well as being a free spirited gypsy queen, so we moved A LOT. As I child I went coast to coast: L.A., Texas, New York, Oregon, New York, back to L.A. back to New York, Texas etc. Occasionally we’d end up in places like Tulsa Oklahoma, but that was rare. Anyway, our adventurous lifestyle affected my sister and I in very different ways.

My sister set down strong, unbendable roots as soon as she was able (she’s lived in the same neighborhood for 18 years)

I took the other path. I love new places, fresh starts. I love moving (okay not the physical carrying boxes part) and road trips, and meeting all the people who-while they have different accents, sayings, home teams etc-are really a lot alike.

Anyway, out of all these places I’ve lived, with my family and since I left the nest-there have only been a handful where I felt completely at home. Where people were just as…unusual…as I.

Note: I was going to add pictures but my computer is deciding to drive me insane today. Sorry

Venice Beach-I loved it. Lived there when I was 10. I walked down the beach, watching the weight lifters, the crazy acts, the strange characters. There was a man anyone whose ever been there would recognize. Turban, guitar, roller skates, beard…ringing any bells? He used to follow me around and sing to me. Who wouldn’t love that?

 Norfolk, England-I spent a summer there, so I think it counts, I’ve lived less time in other places. I spent my time in England-when I wasnt in the haunted cottage or the haunted pub across the street-traveling around to see the standing stones and chalk drawings on hillsides. I decided then, at 17, that I loved how open minded about the Woo Woo that British people were. I sat with an old man nicknamed Wop in the bar, a salt of the earth kind of guy, while he told me very calmly about witching stones and ley lines and the mischief making spirit that liked to toss things around the bar on occasion.  I’d love to go back.

Montrose-Houston Texas  I was young, working at two Ice Houses (garages made into beer bars for those wondering) as a beerback, and having a blast. Montrose is fascinating. So much so, I made sure I put it in my first book Lifting the Veil. A large LGBT community, artists, goths, anyone who is a bit unique…they pop up here. Though Austin’s logo is Keep Austin Weird, I believe Montrose still deserves that title more.

Sedona Arizona-This is my heaven. At night the stars cram the sky, clear and bright and brilliant. At sunrise and sunset the famous red rocks catch on fire and gleam like a magical mirage. And it just feels different here. Thousands of tourists drive through, as well as road dogs. Road Dogs are young, usually dreadlocked nomads, who travel through Sedona every year, playing drums and sitars in bars and restaurants and sleeping in campgrounds until the first snow. The locals were just as colorful, and so different. From the rich folks with their giant houses on the hills, to the resort workers living in tiny apartments on the bottom. We were obviously the former. Cookie was a resort chef and I was a vocalist in a local band. It was way too expensive, but oh so much fun.

I’ve been in the same state, in normal places, for nearly six years. I just moved into a nice apartment in a nice neighborhood with nice neighbors. But I long to go back to where the weird things are. Maybe next year.

Between Good and Aeval is out! And I can tell you all, since I was lucky enough to have read it, that it ROCKS!

A cult of sex faeries start taking men hostage…including Claire’s boyfriend.

Book Two of the Curtain Torn Series

When Myrna Terrence’s husband is abducted from her dream by fairies, she asks Claire for help. Claire investigates and discovers other married men of Four Corners have been kidnapped. Men who share enough similarities to suggest the kidnappings may be related.

But if she succeeds, those same truths may be what sends him out of her life forever.

Warning: this title contains the following: hot nekkid men with wings, regular nudity, and prolonged sexual tension followed—finally—by explicit sex. And the faeries who punish husbands for not “pleasing” their wives are entirely fictional (sorry!).
BUY IT NOW
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/between-good-and-aeval

How unlikely is our existence?
In this solar system, galaxy, universe
That we came together, formed in just this way.
Anything could have happened. Could have gone wrong. Evolution could have given us the head of a zebra and the tail of a beaver.
The Platypus (platypi?) could have formed the first communities, cities, religions.

And yet here we are.

And we think. Critically and logically. Creatively and abstractly. Sometimes we overthink. Or think ourselves into spirals that lead us down
down
down
into the blackest pit of despair.
But still, anything could have happened. We could have gotten the gift of bipedal locomotion and opposable thumbs and the brain of a single celled organism.
Easy pickings for all those hungry predators

And yet here we are

And we dream. We not only see and comprehend the world around us in all its realistic…splendor. We imagine the world as it could be. We imagine and create.
Buildings
Music
Art
Books
We write. Create entire worlds with the stroke of a pen, or the hammering of a keyboard. Worlds we have never seen with our waking eyes. Worlds that our logical minds tell us are impossible. But still we create them. Still we share them.
We could have been drones without freedom of thought to express what is hiding within us. We could have been a world of people unable to see beyond their little plot of land. Never wondering enough about the world around us to think of looking up at the stars.

And yet here we are

As writers, everyone says the only difference between success and failure is luck, timing, and current trends/perceptions. Oh and talent of course. But talent isnt the biggest factor. And that makes our opposable thumbs twitch and our thinking minds race. We imagine not only how successful we could become but also how hard and far we could fall.
We wonder, is all this insecurity, all this insanity, this constantly shifting sand beneath our feet really worth it?

And yet…here we are

Kind of exciting when you think about it