The guestbook is gone

We almost took the guestbook down once. Then we thought, that taking down the guestbook would be sort of punishing the nice, reasonable people along with the rude and mean-spirited. So we tried to reward the people who left reasonable messages, by talking about the nice stuff, and ignoring the mean stuff. Reward good behavior, ignore bad. It worked for awhile then we got a new moderator on the fan message board. There were getting to be so many messages and so much other work that Darla was overwhelmed and needed some help. All you guys that thought Darla was mean, didn't know what hit you when Bete Noir rode into town. The fans have named her snipermod, because she doesn't take the time that Darla did and delete the offending passages and leave the rest, nope. Bete Noir kills the whole message if any part of it goes over the edge. Now all the people that were complaining about Darla, and even calling her names, are crying on her shoulder asking to be saved from Bete Noir's terrible swift keyboard. Some of you didn't appreciate how much work Darla put into moderating the board, well, now there's a new sheriff in town. Enjoy.

Unfortunately, those that were kicked off, or chased off the moderated board decided to come to the guest book on the blog. There's no moderator. There's no one to slap their hands, and since this was one of the few ways you, the fans, could actually contact Jon and I, we read some of the guestbook. Jon more than me, but I did read some. I never visit the board. So the guestbook was your only way of contacting me directly. I say, was, because it is no more. The people that left, or were kicked off the board, brought their nastiness to our guestbook. Some really awful things have been posted. Personal attacks on us. People trying to be funny and just managing to be stupid and cruel. Cruel is not witty. Mean is not witty. You can be cruel and witty, or mean and witty, but most of you failed to be anything but mean and petty.

If we said anything half as awful to the fans as you've said to us, some even in person, you, the fans, would be outraged. And rightly so. But we've behaved ourselves. We've been grown-ups.

I am sorry to all of you fans who have been nice, helpful, tried to share your lives with us as we did with you. Sorry that your only way of reaching us directly is gone. But Jon and I have had enough. You can thank some of your fellow fans for the loss of the guestbook. Though I don't understand why they would still be fans if they hate me, the books, my characters, so badly. Some people don't love themselves so they try to hurt other people. Some people are jealous of anyone that succeeds or has things they do not. Bullies. The anonymous nature of the internet makes it possible for people to say things they would never dream of saying in person, or in any context where they would have to 'fess up to having said it. Some will read this and think, I want them to know what I said about you. Fine tell the other fans what you wrote, what you said, but be honest. Tell them what you really wrote, what you really said. Don't whitewash it. Then see how many of the other fans are shocked that you would say such things to anybody.

Sigh. There will follow two posts in the next few days. One, Jon wrote recently, the other I wrote a few months back. The last time we thought we'd have to get rid of the guestbook. Jon has already disabled the link. The guestbook is gone and you have a few petty, evil-minded people to thank for it.

Tired tonight

God, I'm tired. And not for any fun reasons. Had to get groceries late because of a friend's child being in the hospital. We're hoping they'll only keep him over night, but we won't know until tomorrow. I won't go into details because it's not my kid, and I don't know how she'd feel about me sharing. Contrary to modern American television culture you don't share everything just because you know it for a fact, or better yet, a rumor. But it put things late, and I'm beat, but my daughter is upstairs waiting for her good night kiss, not in the hospital, so it's a good day.

Our friend Greg went back to Texas today. We dropped him at the airport, all three of us, and sent him on his way. That's it from here. Jon and I are dragging ourselves upstairs. Sleep sounds really good, and a prayer for good news tomorrow. Hope you are all well out there. Kiss your kids, kiss each other, and if you don't have anyone else to kiss good night, remember, lover yourself, too. Okay, I started to take out "lover" because it should read "love." But you know, what the heck. For some reason the miswrite strikes me as funny, and appropriate. If you don't lover yourself, you aren't nearly as good at loving anyone else. Practice makes better.

We're number six!

It's official, A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT is number six on the New York Times list, and on the USA Today list! Very yea!

The book is selling amazingly well. Very cool. But if I stop writing about how amazing it is that this book is doing so well, I can actually go back to working on the current book that I'm writing. Jon and I did go out and celebrate. This weekend we've got our friend Greg up visiting. He's one of those friends that it's good to just be in the room with, not talking, not doing, just being. The men reading this may understand that better than the women. Some women look at me funny when I talk about how peaceful it is to just be in a room with people, everyone doing their individual things, but still being together. You either get it, or you don't, I guess. I'm back to work.

My arm feels so much better

The signing at the Crestwood Barnes and Noble went great. Great because I didn't have to take a single break, or ice my arm. Yea! Any of you that have been to an event in the last few years will remember the ice bags, the break in the middle of the signing so I could rest my arm. But Saturday we didn't have to do any of that. I wasn't in agony, or even in pain. Discomfort, yes, but not pain, and the discomfort was only at the very end. We had between 250 and 300 people, with three books a piece. So a minimum of 750 books, but we're pretty sure it was more like 900 books, and I still didn't have to ice my arm. Yea, again!

How has this miracle occurred? Weightlifting. Yes, that's right, weightlifting. Jon and I have done a year and a half of weights. We've also done some aerobics as in walking. We've done an entire exercise routine for a year and a half, because I was told it was the only way to regain the full use of my arm. Now that's an incentive to work out. The other benefits have included going down from a size fourteen, and looking at buying sixteen, to being size ten, and looking at nines and eights. Looking at, means that you either need to get into that size, or you can squeeze into it, but it ain't comfortable. I got to drag out my size nine/ten jeans and wear them, but they were a little tight. I'm going to give it a few more weeks at ten. I'd rather be comfortable than fit into the smallest size that will have me.

We have also changed our eating habits. The first thing our personal trainer, Keath, said was, "You're not eating enough." Not eating enough. What? But that's what he said, and a nutritionist said. We weren't eating enough and what we were eating wasn't what our bodies needed to fuel us through the day. As we work out more we needed to eat more, but we still continued to lose inches. Inches folks, not weight. People at the signing this weekend estimated I'd lost thirty pounds. Nope. I think Jon and I have only lost about ten pounds a piece, but I've lost three inches all the wall around up and down.

It's not about weight. It's about improving your health, not just about how many inches you've lost. Though the inches are very nice side benefit. It's about being able to use my arm. It's about still being able to carry my kid up to bed, even though she's ten now. It's about having more stamina, and feeling better.

Who has wrought this miracle of sweaty bodies, and inches lost, and health regained? Keath Hausher of Shark Fitness. Web address is www.sharkfitness.net

Breaking News of the Wierd

April 13, 2005: Unitarian Jihad!

I don't usually propigate internet stupidiy, but I had to pass this along.

It give me hope that there are still people out there who understand that Life is too serious to be taken seriously.


Peace out, my brothers/sisters/undecided gender of moderation

Jonathon, the Hammer of Love and Kindness

[Listening to: Believe It If You Like - Sinéad Lohan - No Mermaid (04:28)]

Stroke of Midnight

It's here, at long last! A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT is finally here, yea! It came out yesterday April 12th. You can finally buy the book and find out what I've been nattering about here for months. Only you, the blog readers, know how fast the turn around was between finishing the book and having it hit the shelves. I think it's the fastest turn around that I've ever had between completion and pub date. On one hand it's great because it means the book comes out sooner, on the other hand it's like didn't I just finish this book. It's almost like the pub date snuck up on me.

We had our the first signing last night. A Borders in Fairview Heights, Illinois. If it hadn't been so cloudy, and rainy, you could have seen the Cahokia mounds from the parking lot. Which seemed appropriate for the first signing for the fourth Merry Gentry book. I mean the Cahokia mounds are where the fey live in my world. So, cool.

Number of people in line were between 260 and 300. Saw some familiar faces, and some new ones. I let the crowd vote on whether they wanted me to read from the new book, or do questions and answers. The Q and A won out by a medium margin. I think next time it's that close that I'll read for a few minutes and a take a few less questions.

Saturday is the next signing at the Barnes and Noble at Crestwood, MO. It will start at 2:00 in the afternoon so we'll have a chance to get us all out of there before midnight. There is a limit of three books per person. Sorry, but my arm can only do so much. If you have more books you are free to wait and go back through the line. Some people did.

See ya Saturday.

A perfect day

I've been meaning to put this blog up for a couple of days, but first the internet connection went down, then I had to shop for clothes. AAH. Yes, I know the girl union is going to come and get my union card, but dear, God, I hate to shop.

But what I wanted to put on the blog was this: Sunday was an almost perfect day. It was warm and lovely, late spring, almost an early summer heat. If I'd been in Indiana where I was raised, I'd have said, summer, but here in St. Louis Sunday didn't have quite enough heat for summer. But it was a lovely warm day. I got to have all the windows in my office open. Yes, I know allergies, but sometimes you just got to have the fresh air. (I think my penchant for open windows may go back to being raised in a house without central air, or heat. In the summer I began to read and write with windows open to the summer breeze. Sometimes how you first learn to do something is how to always want to do it.) So windows open, beautiful day, and I spent the afternoon staring at a blue wall covered in sticky notes. All four dogs lay around on the floor. There was a moment when I looked up from the desk, to see the three boys in identical positions on their sides, legs stretched out enjoying the warmth and sunshine. The writing was flowing, and I remember thinking, "What a perfect day."

The fact that I thought that while I was spending an afternoon writing, let me know that I still love my job, I just get overwhelmed now and then with the deadlines, and some of the more unpleasant aspects of the job. But every job has a crap quotient, it's just a matter of picking a job where the crap is less than the enjoyment factor. I have that, and Sunday proved that at a time when I needed to be reminded that I truly do love my job.

I finished the Micah novella, though I think by word count it actually is a short novel. By most people's standards 184 pages is a novel, right? Still working on a title. My plan is to take several of the characters out of town with Anita, or do smaller in town adventures (though in town adventures are hard to keep small because of all the other characters.) It was a nice break to work with such a small cast. But now that this novella is done, back to the actual Anita novel. Oh, the novella will be published as it's own book in Spring of 2006, which would be next year.

But the novella gave me a chance to sort of step back and remember how much leaner and more focused the early Anita books were. I'm not sure it's possible to have that kind of laser focus in town with all the characters and Anita, but I'm going to try and take some of what I relearned in the novella and see if it's possible to apply it to the larger book. Short of whittling down my cast, which I'm unwilling to do, (and don't even bother suggesting who to kill off, because you guys get really nasty when you start talking about that, and very adamant, that your favorite character should survive, and some other fan is just as adamant that their favorite character, you get the idea, so don't start, please.) Besides Anita and I would miss anyone we lost. There are some really big scenes in this next book, lots of people, lots of movement, and lots of new characters. Some of the new ones will be permanent and some not. Some of the out of town visiting vamps will be seen later when Anita goes out of town in future books.

Lost my voice

Lost my voice last night. Yes, I've been to the doctor. Have some voice back today, but am having to sort of ration the use of it, so I can make sure I can talk to all you guys who are coming to the two signings next week for A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT. Not to mention that it hurts to talk. Always an incentive not to do something.

The Micah novella is going along nicely, but it's actually going to be the size of a small book. I'll try to remember this the next time I have a "short" idea. Sigh. Well back to work, at least writing doesn't require me to talk.

Jon just walked by and said, "You should tell them how you lost your voice." Okay.

I've been diagnosed with LPR (Laryngopharyngeal Reflux). Basically it's like acid reflux except instead of trying to burn a hole through my esophogus, it's coming all the way up to my voice box, my larynx. Spring allergies have hit, and so I've got drainage coming from above, and acid coming from below, and everything is pooling in my throat. Ho, ho, ho. My doctor has doubled some of the medication I was already on. She's going to get me into a voice clinic that specializes in things relating to the voice. This does explain why a few years ago I went from being able to project to the back row of a room, easily, to straining for it. It also explains why I started loosing my voice after tour, unless every talk had a microphone. It explains why I feel like I'm choking sometimes if a shirt covers my throat. It actually explains a lot of symptoms and problems that wouldn't seem related, but actually are. Funny how the body works sometimes. Funny in that morbid, very not ha-ha way.

This would all be easier if I was better at charades. I've always sucked at the game. Writing little notes hurts my injured arm. My American sign language is too rusty to use. Very frustrating.

And the morning begins

Twenty minutes before the school bus is due to arrive at our door, our sweet little girl, says, "I need to dress like Helen Keller today for my book report." It is the first Jonathon and I have heard of the need to dress up. She's still in her jammies. Teeth unbrushed. Hair uncombed. We're like scrambling to even make the bus. And now we have to pull an early 1900s woman's outfit out of our magical closet. Problem, we don't have a magical closet.

She finally finds a play skirt to put on over her jeans when the time comes for her report today. She found it, because I could find nothing in her closet that remotely resembled what she needed. The last book report was handled more here, at home. Mary, her grandma, made her an outfit to dress up as a junior herpetologist. It was way cool. But this book report is done at school with the children taking more responsibility for the whole think. And she did. She found the skirt. She has all her stuff in her time capsule that has to do with Helen Keller. She has shown the contents of her box to no one here at home. I got a glimpse of a picture of a key, and I know the story well enough to go, oh, that's good. But she's on her own. So why if she's on her own were we trying to conjure a outfit out of thin air twenty minutes to bus time?

All my friends with kids now in their teens and especially twenties, say the same thing. That no matter how old they get, there will still moments when the kids turn to you and expect miracles on the spur of the movement to make their life work. I am both looking forward to this, and a little afraid. Because I've noticed that the older Trinity gets the less easy it is to pull off that miracle. Ah, for the days when a little something sweet and a story would take care of all the ills in the world.

Curse You, Ben Franklin

Did you remember to spring forward this morning, or are you running an hour late? Jonathon and I remembered, but the clock lied. It says we got up at 6:00 A. M., but my body knew it was really 5:00 A. M. The sun knew the truth, because it wasn't up yet either.

Maybe I wouldn't take daylight saving time (and yes, saving, not savings is the original phrasing) so hard if I hadn't been raised without it. A good portion of Indiana doesn't observe this artificial mess. We all got along just fine without rearranging our clocks, thank you very much. Since I've lived without government mandated clock tampering, and saw no ill effects from it, I'm puzzled why most of the country gives into it all.

The true irony to me is that the concept was invented by Benjamin Franklin. A man who was notorious for staying up into the wee hours of the night, or morning as it were, and sleeping until noon. Yes, I know he did the famous quote, "Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise." But Mr. Franklin quoted a lot of stuff he didn't actually do in his own life.

On one morning after the night before, a very late night, he woke to find his room ablaze with sunlight. His first thought was that his room must be full of the new oil lamps. Then he realized to his shock that it was the sun. In the humorous essay he wrote about this event, he said that he didn't realize the sun rose so early. He proposed, as a joke, that we change our clocks to accommodate the earlier rising of the sun as the year progresses. His tongue was firmly in cheek. It was a joke folks. A joke, I tell you!

But as so often happens what one man says in jest, someone else simply takes as fact and runs with it. What began as a humorous essay published in a French publication, has become the law of the land in the United States of America. Ben Franklin rarely saw the light of day before noon, if he had a choice. So I say, curse you Ben Franklin, curse you. For rousing all the rest of us out of our beds before dawn, when, if you were still alive and well, you'd still be sleeping until noon.

Jasmine Tea, music, and the muse

Spent two days this weeks pretty much living on music and Jasmine tea. I ate, but I huddled over my tea, and music and wrote. I now remember why I stopped writing short stories, because I bloody don't know how to write short. The novellette is turning into a novella, and if it goes about twenty pages more it may qualify page wise as a novel. A short one by my standards, but the size of a cozy mystery. Geez, I just can't write short. Goal is to finish the "short" piece today. Gotta get back to the actual book.

Music that I'm listening to: Revis, The Punisher soundtrack, Tori Amos. Thanks for all the music suggestions. After the novella is done I'll let you know how much of the music suggestions I've already written to on other books. Amazingly similar suggestions to my working music taste.