Tag Archive for: stilettos

Living vicariously through my characters

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Hello, Stiletto Gang, and thanks to my buddy, Joelle Charbonneau, for inviting me to chat with you today. I hate to get off to a bad start, but frankly, I have a bone to pick with all of you who wear stilettos—and now I see you’ve formed a gang?!!!

 You see, I’m an unwillingly reformed shoe-aholic. I didn’t even get to go through the twelve-step program. Pretty high-heeled shoes to me were an addiction. I’d buy so many pairs I’d hide them in the trunk of my car. That worked until my husband came in, arms full, and said, where do you want these?

He knew. He always knew… Let’s call him my enabler.
 

Nothing could cure me. Well, until, I developed the gasp—bunion—and putting on pretty stilettos felt like I was wearing nails on the sides of my feet. Over the years, the heels got lower and lower, while the bunion got wider and wider. Just had surgery to correct it, and I’ve been off weight-bearing, going on six weeks. Slowly, I’m making my way back up to tennis shoes.

I should despise stilettos, right? Wrong. Seriously, it’s my addiction. One of the women in my local chapter wears such beautiful pumps. Sparkly and shimmering those shoes of hers make me want to rush out and buy some to add to the boring, sensible ones in my closet. Alas, anything over two-inches would sit gathering dust.

Don’t feel too sorry for me (I’ve already cornered that market). I now live vicariously through my characters. In DEADLY RECALL, my recently released Romantic Suspense from Bell Bridge Books, Eden Moran my protagonist wears the man-killer shoes I cannot. But…like a sponsor in A.A., I felt it only fair to warn my readers that heels aren’t all that:

Excerpt of Deadly Recall and my public service warning . . . 

Traveling at a fast clip in four-inch stilettos when you’re calm was foolhardy. Walking in them when you’re angry bordered on suicidal. Her thoughts must have transferred to her feet. Eden stumbled. And wouldn’t you know it the good detective had hung around to witness. He reached out to steady her as Father Slater stepped out of the bridal room.

And . . .

Well, that was that, Eden thought, as she pulled into her covered parking space next to the commercial building that housed her loft. Using the Honda’s trunk for support, she tugged off her heels. It might take a day or two to regain her spirits, but she’d damned well relieve her aching feet now.

End of Public Service Announcement 

I may not be able to wear beautiful, sexy shoes anymore. But my heroines do. And another thing, for anyone who has ever met me, I’ve been blessed―or cursed―with Irish skin. I’m so fair that after one outing on a lake when I sunburned so badly I required medical care, the doctor said to me, “Will you face it. You’re never going to be a Copper Tone baby.”

Dumb doctor. What does he know? All right. I didn’t go to medical school and he did, I get it. Like my shoes, I’ve given up spending long hours in the sun. Or if I do, I wear hats, or I take an umbrella. I still find ways to satisfy my cravings. I give my characters the traits and abilities I’ve been forced to give up. And although I make them suffer in other ways, darned if they aren’t able to tan. Don’t worry, I do have a rather strong conscience – no matter how beautiful their skin tone, they always wear sunscreen.

So what about you? Is something off limits to you that you’ve found a way to live vicariously through? Isn’t reading the best escape ever? I’d love to hear about your escapes, and to one commenter, I’ll give away either a paperback or a digital copy of my new release, DEADLY RECALL. Thanks for having me, Joelle!

 

A terrifying memory is locked deep inside her. A killer wants to keep it that way.
Nine-year-old Eden Moran thought she was saying good-bye to her mentor that fateful day in St. Patrick’s. She had no idea she’d witness the nun’s demise, or that her child’s mind would compensate. Now seventeen years later, Albuquerque cops have unearthed human remains, and the evidence points to Eden as being the key to solving Sister Beatrice’s murder. When a hellbent cop applies pressure, Eden stands firm. She doesn’t remember the woman. Unfortunately for Eden, Sister Beatrice’s killer will do whatever it takes to keep it that way.  

Donnell Ann Bell is a two-time Golden Heart® finalist who previously worked for a weekly business newspaper and a parenting magazine. Her debut novel The Past Came Hunting became an Amazon bestseller, reaching as high as #6 on the paid overall list and finaling in 2012 Gayle Wilson Award for Excellence, RWA’s® Greater Detroit Bookseller’s Best, and the 2012 Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense. Deadly Recall, brought to you by Bell Bridge Books, is her second published novel. Learn more about Donnell at www.donnellannbell.com

Stilettos, High Heels, Crocs

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Despite being a part of the Stiletto Gang, I wince whenever I see an actual Stiletto. No, I’ve never had a pair.

Years ago, though, I did wear high heels everyday to work. Looking back I wonder how I did it. I had my first real job working as a file clerk for Pacific Bell in downtown L.A. To get there, I rode the bus, then the streetcar to 8th street, then I walked four blocks up hill to the office building.

Like everyone else back in that time period, besides the heels, of course I wore nylons (no pantyhose yet), and dresses.

At the job, we often sat on little stools to get into the bottom drawers to do our filing, what a trick with skirts. Nylons didn’t last long either.

I even had high heels for leisure, cute sandals.

As I got older and had more kids, the high heels were saved for dress-up occasions and work. On and off I worked as a telephone operator, mostly in Oxnard while hubby was stationed there. Even though no customers ever saw us, we were required to wear nylons and dresses to work. And yes, I wore my high heels then, even when I was pregnant. Three times I worked at the phone company, got pregnant, worked until they wouldn’t let me any longer, and left.

But, I digress. Back to the heels. I didn’t feel dressed up unless I had on heels.

When we moved to where we live now and took over the residential care facility, I didn’t wear heels while I was working with the ladies we cared for, but I wore them when we went to town, or I had to go to a meeting.

I did this for several years until I finally realized, I could still look fine with a nice pair of flat dress shoes. Now that’s all I have–and they better be comfortable.

Really, since I’m now a great-grandmother there’s not anyone I need to impress. You’ll not find a single pair of high heels in my closet today.

Okay, big confessions of the day, do I still get to play with all you Stiletto Gang cuties?

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com

How Sexy Shoes Will Write This Book

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Rachel Brady

I’ve just started my third novel. Historically, these things take a while for me to finish. Four years for the first, two for the second. It’d be really nice to do this one in a year like normal writers.

My friend Laura is at the beginning of a project too. Check out her blog, One More Thing to Feel Guilty About. The woman is hilarious, and unfortunately that becomes frightfully important when you see where this story is going. Anyway, we agreed to keep each other honest this year as we muddle through our first drafts. Over dinner, I told her I was contemplating the idea of paying her a fee if I didn’t hit my word count goal each week. She favored the idea, but having already run it by my husband, I knew that he did not.

“Then I’m going to have to do something to humiliate myself if I miss the count,” I said.

She said, with a touch too much enthusiasm, that she’d like to participate in choosing what that humiliating thing would be. I’m afraid of her. Which is exactly why I said that would be fine.

At one point during the meal, I had a better idea:

“Maybe if I miss my word count, I won’t eat for a day.”

“Like, a whole day?”

“Yes, I’ll starve myself. I’m sure if I starved for a day I would never miss my word count again.”

“I could do that too. We’d be looking pretty hot.”

“The less we wrote, the better we’d look.”

We decided that the use of fasting to incentivize writing could potentially be a conflict of interest.

Somewhere between my second and third enchilada, Laura asked me about the Stiletto Gang and wanted to know if I actually, in fact, owned a pair of stilettos. I couldn’t just say yes or no, because the answer turns out to be quite involved. (Hang with me, it becomes important.)

Last April I attended the Malice Domestic Mystery Conference for the first time. On the evening of the Agatha Awards banquet, I changed clothes and joined everyone in the lounge area, where I found them all to be wearing full-up evening attire. I was in a casual dress. No big deal, I still had fun, but I did take note. Embarrassment leaves an impression, no?

Flash forward to my first Bouchercon World Mystery Convention last October. Now initiated, I shopped for some nice evening attire as soon as I sent in my registration check. This time, I’d fit right in. Got a cute LBD (little black dress) and some smokin’ black stilettos. Packed them up for Bouchercon . . . where the banquet required a ticket that cost something like a mortgage. I did not attend, nor did my LBD or sexy shoes.

“So you see,” I concluded, “I do own a pair, but I’ve actually never worn them.”

None of that matters for now, but just store it in your short term memory for a sec.

Laura and I returned to the topic of how best to humiliate myself. I said, “Maybe I’ll ask my blog followers and Facebook friends to suggest horrible things.” Most of you reading this fall into one of those camps, so I’m sure you can imagine how colorful those suggestions would likely be. “Whoever chooses the winning punishment could name a character in the book they shamed me into writing.”

This idea, we agreed, had merit.

But then after dinner, walking to our cars, Laura said, “What if you had to wear those stilettos to work?”

And we both kind of looked at each other like they do in the movies when the montage music gets cued.

“I didn’t tell you the best part,” I said. “They’re strappy sequin stilettos!”

She burst out laughing. “People will think you have no taste.”

Turns out, I actually don’t have much, but it’s easier to hide that when a girl wears business casual to work every day. Maybe it becomes more apparent when she adds sequin black stilettos to khakis and a polo.

“Of course,” she added, “I would expect photos for proof.”

“Can you imagine?” I said. “Stilettos and my NASA badge, in the same outfit?”

She feigned a pose. And so it was born. Either I’m getting a book out of this arrangement or you’re getting pictures.

Fun starts May 1st.

No, I’m Not Wonder Woman and I Don’t Wear Stilettos

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Think of this as a confession.

I was recently interviewed on another blog and the interviewer made me sound like Wonder Woman. I can assure you I’m not.

What I am is a great-grandma, grandma, mom and wife who does know her limits. In order to do the writing and promoting that I want and need to do, I’ve given up some things that once were a real part of my life. I no longer shop all year long for Christmas presents. I’ve opted out to give money–and not a whole lot of that. Same goes for birthdays. After all, I have way too many to give to.

The decorating I do for Christmas is now minimal–it takes far too much time to put it all up and take it down. Hubby used to be really good about helping but now he rebels. Easier just not to do so much.

I still invite people over to dinner because I like to cook, but it’s usually spur of the moment now. I no longer set the table with my good China–we use paper plates and I serve buffet style.

Parties were something I loved to put on–we used to have one at least once a month. No more. Not just because a party is a lot of work, but I couldn’t stay up for the end. I get up early these days and I’m early to bed. Oh we do go to parties we’re invited to, but we’re nearly always the first to leave.

At mystery and writers’ cons, hubby and I disappear long before the bars have cleared and the clutches of writers have disbanded.

Promoting takes a lot of time. This month I’m on a blog tour for my latest book, Dispel the Mist, which means I have to let people know where I am every day. Thank goodness for Twitter, Facebook and the like.

I’m also doing physical things like this weekend was the Apple Festival. I always sell a lot of books, handout many cards, and talk to interesting people, but it is a lot of work and tiring. We put up the tent on Friday afternoon, had to be there on Saturday and Sunday a.m. and all set up by 8 a.m. and you must stay until the end or you’re not invited back. Exhausting.

Coming up is a weekend away. I’m giving an hour long talk on novel writing, but it’s a four hour drive to get there. We’ll be staying over–that’s also tiring though I enjoy it.

And now about the stilettos.

A woman wore a snazzy pair at the Apple Festival. They had zebra striped heels. How she managed to walk up and down that mile long street to look at all the displays I have no idea. Years ago I wore high heels all the time, but they were never stilettos. As an old lady, I’m far more comfortable in flats.

That’s my confession for the day.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com