Misa

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I am not a Sci-Fi girl. At all. My few exceptions to that are that I loved Ender’s Game. But not enough to read the sequels. I love Star Trek, and, of course, Star Wars (but that’s mostly because of Harrison Ford).

So when my man wanted to go see Avatar, I was less than thrilled. But I’m a good wife, and like any good wife, I went with him to see this 3 hour movie. (I should say that had Nine been out, I would have fought hard to see that instead, but husband is a pretty good sport for the most part, so I figure I can sit through Sci-Fi heaven.)

Avatar. I had NO idea what to expect. I hadn’t seen trailers, or read anything online. My only frame of reference was the cartoon Avatar that my kids watch, and that did not appeal to me.

I had no idea, for example, that Sigourney Weaver was in the movie. She’s such a great actress, and plays badass heroine archetypes. That was a perk I hadn’t expected. And the hero Jack Sully, played by Sam Worthington, was appealing, and even more so when he became his Na’vi Avatar.

Even the the animated characters, the indigenous humanoids, were nicely developed overall. Neytiri has a few gut-wrenchingly emotional scenes, no small feat for computer animation. The story itself plays along predictable lines; it’s the special effects that make the movie something special. It’s a spectacular event, and writer/director James Cameron uses every opportunity to make bold statements. He purportedly planned this movie in the mid-90s, but needed to wait for technology to catch up with his vision of what he wanted it to be. He succeeded. Avatar is the top grossing movie of all time (and Cameron is in the top 5 twice–the other movie is, of course, Titanic) and there are rumors of a sequel.

Jake immediately elicits sympathy because he’s a former marine and he’s paraplegic. He’s the quintessential lost soul, searching for how he can ever belong or be whole again. He’s damaged, and the way he’s defined himself no longer fits. He’s in a wheel chair, self-sufficient, but unhappy and wanting nothing more than to have the surgery that can fix his legs.

His brother is dead, and Jake is taking his place on the planet Pandora. Avatars are made especially for the human host, and Jake’s brother, his twin, and he shard the same DNA. Instead of waste the millions (or billions, or whatever it cost) to create his Avatar, Jake is brought in to take his place.

Dr. Grace Augustine is vehemently against Jake going in to make contact with the Na’vi. Jake is not a scientist, is not trained in working with an avatar, and is motivated by his selfish desires, not by a desire to understand the indigenous people of Pandora or to truly help build diplomatic relations with the Na’vi.

Turns out, of course, that Grace and Jake come to a great understanding of each other, and grow to have a mutual respect. That was a nice development and I liked seeing their friendship grow.

I plan to see Avatar again, and take notes on the Hero’s Journey. That is something James Cameron knows how to do with a character. Each character, in fact, is the hero of his (or her) own journey in Avatar, and the steps are quite clear. This makes the movie emotionally satisfying, Sci-Fi or not.

Avatar is a super popular movie. Did you see it? What did you think of Jake as a hero? Was it a satisfying ending for you?

~Misa

From Confessions to Closets

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I have a confession to make: I don’t always pay attention during church.

You can basically boil down the tenets of my faith to two things: God is love and the old do unto others as you would like done unto you plea. But for some reason, some of our preachers feel that twenty minutes on the intricacies of the Gospel are necessary for the flock to hear, despite the fact that there is more than one lolling head in the crowd. As a family, we began sitting up front so that we could sit in rapt attention and avoid distraction. This “front of the church” position resulted in my husband’s continuing embarrassment over one of the nastiest bouts of “church giggles” that had ever befallen me. By the time I excused myself from the pew, tears were rolling down my face and I almost had to be escorted out of the building by one of the ushers, who thought I was overcome with grief over something to do with my then-illness. I didn’t have the heart to tell him—or the courage to reveal—that I was really laughing because the woman behind me was singing off-key and an entirely different song from the one the rest of the congregation was singing. After that, we moved to a side pew, where it was less likely that my giggling and my son’s chattering would be overheard or remarked upon by anyone. Because anyone sitting in a side pew is there for probably the same reason as we are and isn’t there to judge. Jim has found that separating me and our son from the general congregation has its benefits as well as its disadvantages. For me and our son, it just gives us a more private area for our deep discussions. One week, he and I had a discussion on what would happen to his teeth if he continued not brushing on a regular basis, a non-habit that I feared would result in the loss of all of his teeth. He told me that he had two options: 1) he would wear wooden teeth like George Washington or 2) he would wear plastic Vampire teeth for the rest of his life. (He was completely serious, by the way.) Another week, we had a spirited discussion about his science project and the lack of data and/or progress, all the while clapping our hands in time to “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” if not exactly singing all of the words.

So as you can see, I am a worship multi-tasker.

Last week’s homily had put me into a semi-stupor and my mind naturally went to the problem of the lack of closet space in the house. It started out with something like “the space Jesus inhabits in your heart” which took me to “space” and then to “lack of closet space” and then the thought of all of my clothes jammed into a small, under-the-stairs closet that I share with child #1 and her smelly field hockey uniform, cleats, and equipment. It’s closet hell, really, if we’re going to stay with the religious theme.

All of a sudden it hit me. There’s a little alcove in son’s room and it would be the perfect size for my wardrobe and fifty pairs of shoes. I even thought about the little pocketbook/scarf/belt rack that I would hand along one wall to hold my impressive collection of such items. I looked around the church, hoping I could share this revelation (and there’s another one!) with someone and saw my contractor sitting in the back row. Eureka! Using my powers of telepathy, I tried to relate to him that I would be needing an estimate on a new closet as soon as possible, but unfortunately, he had fallen into a deep sleep. With his eyes open. His slack jaw and gently bobbing head were a dead giveaway, though. His wife nudged him awake but he didn’t seem to understand that I was trying to tell him something very important.

I tried to return my attention to the sermon but it was for naught. Thrilled at the thought of my new closet, I kept imagining what it would be like to be able not only to see all of my clothes but to take them out, unwrinkled and not smelling like field hockey sweat.

I caught the tail end of the sermon and it was something to do with love thy neighbor, which I felt I had already accomplished because the love I was showing my contractor by giving him another job was just another notch in my belt of holiness, right?

A Jewish friend, who is also a brilliant architect who we affectionately call “Mike Brady, the architect” as an homage to the Brady Bunch dad, came over yesterday and I took him to show him where I might put the new closet. He was impressed. “Great idea. When did you come up with that?”

I confessed that it was during the homily at church.

He burst out laughing. Although he wouldn’t cop to dreaming up travel itineraries, or reconfiguring the kitchen to be more user-friendly, or even thinking about what his wife was cooking for the break fast during Yom Kippur services, his glee over my worship multi-tasking led me to believe that daydreaming during services is an endeavor not relegated to Christians.

I’ve already made my peace with going to hell, but I’d love some company. What are you thinking about when you’re supposed to be praying about your immortal soul, Stiletto faithful?

Maggie Barbieri

Trying Something Daring

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My Rocky Bluff P.D. crime novels (rated PG) are available on Kindle. I suggested to my publisher that we sell the e-version of the latest, An Axe to Grind, written under the name F. M. Meredith for $1.98.

Granted, that’s much cheaper than most other e-books, but I thought it was a good way to acquaint readers with the police officers, their wives and families who inhabit the California beach town of Rocky Bluff. Maybe reading this book would convince them to buy the others in the series.

Will it work? I have no idea, but after doing a bit of promoting about the low price for Kindle owners, I’ve already received e-mails from people I know who have downloaded it.

Of course, the trade paperback version the publisher and I will be selling at its regular price of $12.95.

Promotion for that will be what I’ve always done: book launch (2 this time in separate towns), a blog tour in March, library talks, book and craft fairs, mystery and writers conferences and conventions. Of course I’ll promote on Facebook and Twitter and other social networks.

I’m always ready to try something new, after all I keep writing these books, I’d like more people to read them.

Marilyn who also writes as F. M. Meredith

http://fictionforyou.com

Call Me Old-Fashioned

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I guess Mazel Tovs are in order. Nicole Richie announced on The Letterman Show that after two kids together, she and Joel Madden have decided to tie the knot.

Marriage-phobia to me is weird. You get married, and if you don’t like it, you get divorced. I’d like for folks to take it a little more seriously than Brittany Spears first Vegas 25-hour nuptials, but assuming no children are involved, it’s paperwork.

I can even understand those couples who take a principled, anti Prop-8 stand and declare “we’re not getting married until all couples have that choice.”

Where I get confused are those men and women who feel like the commitment to each other is harder than a commitment to a kid(s). Frankly, without children, you never have to see each other again. Once you have a baby, if you intend to be an involved parent, you’re going to be seeing a lot of that other person for the rest of your life. And if you really are committed to being a good parent, that means not bad-mouthing your ex- no matter what a jerk he/she may be. Are you listening Kim Basinger and Alec Baldwin? How about you Sherri Shepherd? Putting kids in the middle is always, always wrong – period.

Sean Combs, of Puff Daddy/P Diddy/Diddy fame, delayed marriage until “the time is right.” He made that declaration while his long-time girlfriend, Kim Porter, was pregnant with twins. As he carefully explained, “I have to be ready to get married.” So, in the end, Kim and he split, and he’s the father to five kids by three different women – but doesn’t have a divorce paper in his safety deposit box. Now maybe he’ll get the Father of the Year award, but I have to wonder about anyone who gives his sixteen year old son a $360,000 car as a birthday gift. Actually, I’ve got questions for anyone who gives a car of any vintage or price to a 16-year-old. Maybe he didn’t want the kid to practice on his Rolls?

But the point is, parenting is more than money – although obviously, I expect all parents to financially support their minor children. I’m not even going to say Bravo, Sean, for working out child support arrangements with all the mothers. He’s supposed to do that.

Nor am I suggesting that having kids precludes divorce if the marriage is unworkable or unfixable. (I understand that for gay couples, marriage, and therefore divorce, is not yet an option is most states). But a clear, strong commitment between parents pre-kids would certainly be on my list of prerequisites prior to deciding to have kids. If nothing else, it tells your children that commitment to another person is not only possible, but wonderful.

But in the meantime, is Nicole registered at Bed, Bath, and Beyond?

Marian, the Northern half of Evelyn David

Murder Takes the Cake by Evelyn David
Murder Off the Books by Evelyn David
www.evelyndavid.com

Getting By with a Little Help from my Friends

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by Susan McBride

Oh, boy, it’s been a very interesting three weeks since The Cougar Club came out. I was tempted at first to write about a few less than pleasant incidents that completely blind-sided me (let’s just say, the word “Cougar” inspires, er, different reactions in different people). But then I remembered my New Year’s resolution to stay focused on the positive and shove the negative into the garbage like wilted spinach. So I’ll babble instead about upbeat stuff, like friendship (which is what The Cougar Club is about after all) and good news.

I used to block off at least three months after a book’s release to do promotion. I would try to hit every book festival, convention, and writer’s conference within flying distance. In between the weekends I was gone, I’d schedule stock signings, school talks, library events, book club discussions, and anything else I could logically work into my schedule. But I was single then, and now I’m married (two years next Wednesday–yeeha!). I hate leaving home. I don’t want to go anywhere that Ed can’t go. So with Cougar, I tried very hard to stick around St. Louis. Luckily, the local TV stations think the word “Cougar” is hot and wanted me on to talk about my book and about the Cougar phenomenon in general (like I’m an expert, accidental Cougar that I am!). It’s been great doing BlogTalkRadio from home and working a virtual book tour from the comfort of my own computer. I only had to drive across town a bit to tape a podcast for LipsticknLaundry, and I’ll head out for stock signings next week, which gives me a chance to say “thank you” to area booksellers who’ve been so great supporting me, no matter what genre I’m writing.

It’s helped a lot, too, dreaming up events where I’m not going solo. I can only take myself babbling about writing and the book biz for so long before I get tired of my own stories (is anyone ever tempted to make things up so they sound more exciting? Just curious!). Two of four scheduled Cougar gigs thankfully included buddies, like the panel at the McClay Road Library in St. Charles with Angie Fox, Bobbi Smith, and Sharon Shinn. The best part of getting a bunch of girls (who get along!) together is having a fun conversation that leads in all kinds of unexpected directions.

This past Wednesday, Sharon and I did a “Girls’ Night Out” event at the St. Louis County Library, and it was a hoot. I’ve known Sharon for four or five years, and we’ve talked about our writing over many lunches and emails. But it was remarkably funny and spontaneous discussing books and the publishing biz in front of an audience and asking each other questions we’d never asked before. For instance, what type of books wouldn’t we ever want to write? For me, it was science fiction or fantasy where I have to totally create my own worlds, or base a story on some myth or legend that so many other people know about (and probably know better than I). For Sharon it was the opposite: writing fiction completely set in real-life. She remarked that she doesn’t want people telling her all the things she got wrong. Ah, good point!

It’s aweseome, too, when things you hadn’t expected to work out actually happen. Growing accustomed to disappointment in the book biz is part of the game, I’d guess, for many of us who have high aspirations for our literary babies and take all the “mights” and “coulds” to heart. So I have to pinch myself this time around, knowing that one arrow hit its mark (no pun intended!). Target selected The Cougar Club as a Bookmarked Breakout Title and they’ve got it stocked on (most) store shelves in a special promotion from Valentine’s Day through April 11. I don’t think my books have ever been in Target stores before (online, yes, in-store, no) so this is a big deal for me. Needless to say, I was giddy when I heard Cougar would be part of this program. So today, not only did my mom go checking our local Target’s shelves (her report: they had two left, and she bought one!), but my mother-in-law went of her own accord sometime after and noted there was only one copy left. Both asked the associates when they’d get more in and were reassured it would be a matter of days. I heart my moms!

Another cool bit of news that came to pass: the Midwest Booksellers Association selected Cougar as a February Midwest Connections Pick. I’ll be attending an author reception during their March meeting in St. Louis, and I can’t wait. Indie bookstores were the first to support me with my mysteries, and I love supporting them back. Besides, there’s nothing better than hanging out with a bunch of booksellers. They might have to pry me out of there with a crowbar before the night is over.

Other high notes for me these past three weeks are more personal. For the kindly chums who calmed me down after my frantic emails when I spotted anti-Cougar rants online, you rock. And thank you, too, for sharing your stories about less-than-stellar experiences of the rabid kind. Not only did they make me feel better, they also made me laugh. Laughing instead of crying is a very good thing, indeed.

For those of you who invited me to guest blog or to inaugurate a wonderful new site (shout out for Books on the House!), you made my day(s)! Aw, gosh, now I’m sounding like a gushing actress accepting her Academy Award. So I’ll stop before you start barfing.

Still, all this positivity has me grinning like a fool, the icky stuff forgotten (or, at least, banished to the trash can with that wilted spinach). There are so many nice people out there that it’s a shame when we let any bad stuff stick in our craw (where is the craw exactly?). So think about ways friends have helped you out lately–and little things definitely count–and don’t let the ickies get you down, okay? Now go out there and have a great weekend!

Building a Community of Readers

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A writer’s goal is for her book to be discovered and loved by readers.

A reader’s goal is to discover and love new books and authors.

But in the world of publishing, it can be tricky to achieve these goals. There aren’t a lot of publishing dollars spent on marketing an author or promoting her book, particularly if you’re not already a bestseller (read: bread and butter for the publisher). Sure, a few lucky writers are anointed and co-op, advertising, and other promotion happens at the publisher’s expense, but by and large, it’s up to authors to promote their own books, and to try to reach their potential audience.

This is a challenge for authors, no matter the genre we write in. Social networking is a whole new world, allowing for exposure in a brand new way. Twitter, Facebook, Stumble, Digg, and so many more let you connect and network with strangers who may be potential readers.

But still, it’s hard.

I’m making yet another dent in the fabric of the World Wide Web. This last Monday, I launched Books on the House and Books on the House for Kids and Teens. These two sites are all about building a community of readers. The goal is to bring great books to readers, and to help readers discover great books.

Every Monday, a new book and author are featured. There are video interviews (this week, Jane Kurtz talks about her upbringing in Ethiopia, her passion: Ethiopia Reads, and her new books, Lanie and Lanie’s Real Adventures, the 2010 American Girl Doll Lanie Holland books; 6 copies of these books will be given away Monday!), Q & As with the authors, and more. Enter each week to win. That’s all there is to it! What better way is there for a reader to discover a new-to-them -author, and what a great way for a writer to gain exposure for their book.

Our own Susan McBride is the inaugural author on Books on the House! 3 copies of The Cougar Club will be given away on Monday. Her YouTube interview is posted, as well as a Q & A in which she lets us in on some exciting news she has.

I’m so excited about Books on the House and Books on the House for Kids and Teens and the potential for the sites to really help build a community of readers. We have some fabulous authors and books lined up including:

Alexandra Bullen with Wish

NY Times Bestseller Allison Brennan with Original Sin

NY Times Bestseller Jane Yolen with her new graphic novel

Mystery Writer Jennie Bentley

NY Times Bestseller Brenda Novak

and so many more!

Check out Books on the House and Books on the House for Kids and Teens. Tweet about it! Spread the word! Help build our community of readers.

=) Misa

One (Wo)Man’s Junk…

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I got a call from my friend, Tina, about a week ago. She reported that on her way back from the grocery store, she observed an extended family cleaning out a small, tidy house on a main corner in our town. The former inhabitant, a lovely woman of about 90 or so, had passed away right around Christmas. We surmised that the family was getting ready to put the house on the market and was in the process of discarding sixty or more years of the woman’s belongings.

Tina, never one to pass up another’s treasures, or what some of us call “junk,” screeched to a halt in front of the house and asked the family if the contents of the house, which they were putting at the curb, were hers for the taking. They assured her they were; everything inside the house was being thrown out, no ifs, ands, or buts. They were keeping nothing from the home or from the woman’s personal possessions. Tina opened her trunk and threw in two lamps, a recliner, a couple of end tables, and two big, black plastic bags filled with jewelry. She donated the furniture to our local library for the new teen room that is being constructed. And when she got home, she called me to tell me what she had found. I raced over to see what she had claimed.

On her dining room table were the personal possessions of a woman who clearly liked jewelry and took pride in her appearance. Tina separated a few pieces out and pointed out the fine work on two rings, in particular. The two of us went through years and years of costume jewelry, some art deco pieces, shoe clips, dangling earrings, some beautiful necklaces, and two sets of pearls which we thought may be real, but couldn’t be sure since neither of us own a real strand of pearls. Tina held up a little box and her eyes filled with tears. “And this is why I couldn’t bear to see the stuff at the curb,” she said, opening the box. Inside was a volunteer pin from the local hospital where I had given birth to both of my children. “I couldn’t let them throw this out.”

I took a couple of funky necklaces which I need to bathe in jewelry cleaner, as well as a giant Peace sign on a linked chain for my daughter. Tina set about picking out the pieces that she would take apart and glue to a plain simple frame, which is a craft she excels at, not to mention, enjoys tremendously. We both stared at the cache on the dining room table and were sad when we thought about ninety or so years ending up at the curb to be picked up with the regular trash. It just didn’t seem right.

We both went on our merry ways and I forgot about the jewelry until Tina called me a few days later. She works right around the corner from the famed New York City jewelry district, where Jim bought my engagement ring and wedding band two decades ago. She reported that she brought all of the jewelry that she thought might be worth something to her favorite and most trusted jeweler. He examined everything, pronounced a few pieces to be platinum, one an emerald, and the two strands of pearls to be real. He handed her a sizable wad of cash and sent her on her way, assuring her that he would clean and reset a few pieces and then offer them up for sale.

Tina went back to her office, put a call into our local caring committee which services the elderly, sick, homebound and poor in our little Village and told them that they could expect a check in the coming days. She asked that the lady whose jewelry she had sold—whose identity we put together after a little detective work and found out was Mrs. C—be named as the donator of the money. We both felt better knowing that if her family didn’t want her things, the value of them would live on in supporting a good cause right here, a place she lived for most of her adult life.

I thought about all of the things I’ve collected over a lifetime half as long as Mrs. C’s and wondered what would happen to them after I’ve gone. Would my life be reduced to a couple of black plastic garbage bags filled with my high school ring, my diamond stud earrings, and some costume jewelry that I can’t part with at this point in time? I hope not. I don’t know why Mrs. C’s family didn’t have the patience to sort through her belongings; perhaps they had a good reason. But thanks to the eagle eye of my good friend and collector, Tina, Mrs. C’s legacy will be in the good work that can be done with the cash her treasures produced.

Maggie Barbieri

I’m Late, I’m Late, I’m Late to a Very Important Date

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Goodness, I’m seldom late to anything, in fact I’m usually early. My husband is the late one.

I thought I’d already written a blog for today and had it waiting in line. Wrong. I received a reminder from one of my fellow bloggers.

I love writing blogs with this bunch of gals–they make me feel so young. I’m probably thirty years older than most of them. I was a kid during World War II, married the cute sailor I met on a blind date the same year I graduated from high school, we raised five children, and I led a Camp Fire group for ten years–until they graduated from high school.

Through the years, I had various jobs. When the kids were little, I worked as a telephone operator off and on. Hubby, a career Seabee, was gone as much as he was home. When he finally retired, I went to work part time as a teacher in a pre-school for kids with developmental disabilities and began college.

Three of our children married, grandkids began arriving.

Hubby wanted to move to a smaller town and we found the perfect place, the foothills of the Sierra. We purchased a licensed residential facility for developmentally disabled women, moved in and took over. (A much more complicated process than that.)

Though I’d been writing all along, I didn’t get published until the first year that we lived in our new place. After our ladies left for work, I wrote for about three hours–and as the years passed, more books were published.

We had our facility for over twenty years and finally decided it was time to retire.

Now I’m writing nearly full time–though life interferes at times.

That’s just a quick overview–but you can see I’ve been on this planet much longer than the other members of the Stiletto Gang. I love them all, and they certainly brighten my life and I bet they do yours too.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/

Very Taxing

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Turbo Tax and I have started working on my 2009 income taxes. I say “started” because ever since I added “fiction writer” to my resume my taxes have gotten complicated.

Oh, I always itemized. But my “items” were few and simple – mortgage interest, property taxes, interest income and a couple of other things. Click a few keys, hit print, then send and my refund would arrived in 2 to 3 weeks.

Now I have a “home office.” I have to sort through a drawer-full of crumpled receipts. Promotion expenses are the worst – I have receipts for tiny rubber ducks (they were wedding ducks used in the promotion of Murder Takes the Cake). I also have actual “cake” receipts. My co-author and I ran a promotion last summer for librarians – “Have Your Cake & Eat It Too.” Very successful, if expensive. We sent Smith Island Cakes to a half dozen very happy librarians.

There were also flyers and bookmarks. Not cheap, but deductable. And the postage to mail all those flyers and bookmarks, yep I’ve got piles of those receipts. Just need to find my calculator and total them up.

And books. Note to the public and authors’ relatives – authors at small publishing houses (and many large ones too) don’t get a lot of free authors’ copies of their novel. So when a reviewer needs a copy or a charity wants to raffle off an autographed copy, it’s more likely than not, the book being supplied is one the author purchased. The costs of those promotional copies also get itemized.

I attended the Love Is Murder Conference in Chicago last February. I drove so there’s a rental car receipt in that file drawer somewhere, along with the hotel receipts. And gas receipts. Note to self – include the fuel costs from Oklahoma to the Windy City.

What’s next? Website hosting fees? Nope, my co-author paid for that. I paid for the Constant Contact newsletter service. I’ve got those receipts in my desk drawer, along with copies of my annual dues payments to Sisters In Crime and Romance Writers of America (don’t ask – at some point I was considering writing romantic suspense).

Then there’s the toner costs, paper costs, posters, poster frames, a folding table and two folding chairs for book signings, and the cost of some netting material to stuff those little yellow rubber ducks into.

Since authors usually only get two royalty statements a year, adding up the income is easy. I’m sorry to say I don’t even need a calculator for that.

Sigh. Nothing like tax time to discourage an author.

Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David

Happy Valentine’s Day

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Books are read
Violets are blue
Thanks, Stiletto Gang readers,
for being so true!

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love,
The Stiletto Gang