My Sad Swan Song

WINNERS UPDATE! WINNERS UPDATE!  Thanks so much for stopping by my last blog to chat with me and Shauna!  The lucky winners of Shauna's book are: Sabrina Robert, Sarah S., and Kristi!  Please shoot me an email at: christie (at) christie-craig.com and let me know if you'd like an Amazon or B&N book and we'll hook you up!  Congrats!

You know me, forever curious, so I looked up what Swan Song really meant.  There’s a legend that says that Mute Swans are . . . well, mute, and never sing until they are about to die and then they sing the saddest and most beautiful song.  Doesn’t that just getcha right in the heart?  True, it sounds poetic.  But it also sounds terribly sad.  First off, for a girl who’s a bit of a jabber, not to be able to talk is terrible.  But then to only get the gift right before you’re about to croak, well that’s just downright screwed up.  So I was really happy when I read it was all a lie.  Oh, the Mute Swan really exists, but they are simply less vocal than the other swans.  Sort of like some people we know, they don’t have a lot to say.  Or they have a lot to say, but are too shy, too private to share their thoughts and opinions.  I guess you could say if I was a swan, I wouldn’t be a Mute Swan.     

Ahh, but while the legend is a lie, it’s not a lie about Killer Fiction closing our doors.  And it is a sad swan song.  I will miss reading all the other Killer Fiction gals’ blogs. It was great to keep up with each other.  And while our reasons for saying goodbye to this venue are completely validated, as I already said, I wouldn’t make a good Mute Swan.  Anyone who has met in me person can testify that I’m simply not a shy person.  Some of my friends say I could talk to a nail in the wall.  And they’re right, but only if the nail could talk back.  I like to talk, but I also like to listen. Which is why you will not only be seeing me on the Killer Fiction Facebook page:  http://www.facebook.com/KillerFictionWriters but you can still come visit my blog Laugh, Love, Read, at http://christie-craig.com/blog/.

Anyway, it may be goodbye to Killer Fiction, but if you ever need a chuckle, want to read about the new stupid things my hubby’s done (believe me, I thought he might stop this one day, but I’ve given up hope) or maybe you’re just curious about what authors I’ve been reading, pop over and say hello.  I blog every Tuesday.

No, you won’t find all my KF buddies there, but who knows, maybe I’ll have them stop by every now and then and entertain us with their humor.  And you know if I hear of them doing anything worth gossiping (I mean blogging) about, I’ll be the first share it with you.

And now…because it’s not really goodbye for me, I’m going to introduce you to Shauna Allen.  Shauna isn’t just a buddy, she’s also assisting me over at Christie-Craig.com.  Ahh, but Shauna is also a writer.  And a darn good one.  If you like bad boys, tattoos and cupids, all wrapped up in a sexy, witty writing style, you gotta read her.  Today I’ll give away a copy of Shauna’s e-book to three lucky people who leave a comment.  So make sure to leave a post.  And don’t forget to come visit me at my new blog site.

Take it away, Shauna: 

***

Labor Pains

Thanks, Christie!  So glad to be here and thanks for letting me be in on your Swan Song and saying a fond farewell to Killer Fiction!

A friend and writer I respect immensely told me recently that writing a book is a lot like giving birth.  Well, in my “other life,” my full-time job is a labor and delivery nurse.  I thought about her analogy for a moment and had to laugh.  She is absolutely right. 

We start with a tiny seed of an idea.  We nourish it, we love it, we have all kinds of hopes and dreams for it . . . you following me here?  Then, the time comes to bring it into the world.  And it’s a painful ordeal which, for some of us, can become a downright ugly, bloody affair full of tears and screaming.  There’re no epidurals in publishing. 

But, hey, in the end we get to hold our little bundles of joy in our hands and proudly proclaim, “I created this!”  Amazing! 

But, wait. 

Like babies, the work has just started.  The cuteness will always be there—just look at that cover!—but we still have to get our butts out there and work for it.  Um, did we sign up for this back when we were germinating those precious little characters in our minds?  Well, if you want your baby to succeed, yes you did. 

Ah, a mother’s, I mean an author’s work is never done. 

In my book, Inked by an Angel, my hero and heroine have drastically different relationships with their own fictional mothers.  And even though my hero, Jed, is a tattooed bad boy, I made sure he had a teensy-weensy soft side when it came to his mother.  Here’s an excerpt so you can see for yourself:

Sweat poured from his head and stung his eyes as Jed pushed his father’s ancient lawnmower in neat lines through his mother’s backyard.  He paused long enough to shuck his T-shirt and wipe his forehead with it before tossing it to the porch. He knew his mom would probably prefer he left it on just in case her neighbors were to peek out their windows and get a good eyeful of him. Not that Paula Gentry gave a rat’s ass about other people’s opinions, and she’d never once said anything about being embarrassed about his appearance, but he knew she’d probably just as soon have him not rock the boat in her nice, quiet, conservative neighborhood.

 "Jedediah!” she called from the shaded back patio, her hand perched on her hip.

He stopped pushing the mower, but left it running, and turned to face her. “What?” he yelled over the racket.

“Are you almost—?” She stopped mid-thought. “Where is your shirt?” She looked around, presumably for those nosy neighbors he’d already scouted for himself.

He shrugged and kept on going. He was almost done here anyway. Surely, if they were gonna look, they’d have looked by now, and they would’ve seen the bald man full of tats and piercings. Oooh. Big, scary man. Big damn deal. It’s not like he hadn’t been here before and wouldn’t be here again. They would just have to get used to him being around here. A lot.

He finished the yard and shut off the mower, pushing it into the shed before striding up to the porch. With his eyes on his mother’s face, he bent over and retrieved his sweat-soaked T-shirt from the chair she’d draped it over and pulled it back on.

“You wanted me to take a look at the air conditioner, Mom?”

“I just needed you to see if the filter needs to be changed.” She studied his face. “Jedediah.”

He raised a brow in question.

“I’m not ashamed of you, son.”

He nodded once. “I know that.”

Her eyes softened. “You don’t have to do all of this for me, you know.”

“Mom—”

She reached out and brushed a hand across the koi fish tattooed across his forearm. “No. You don’t. I’m just so, so sad that your father isn’t here to take care of these things anymore.”

He felt a little pebble tumble off his heart. He swallowed. It killed him to remember how devastated she’d been when Dad died. She could hardly function for a while. It was almost as if he’d left them on purpose. But, by not taking the doctor’s advice, he had. And he didn’t want any part of a love that could tear him up like that. Never again.

“I know,” he reassured her. “That’s why I do them now.” He cupped her chin so she’d look up at him. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, nearly breaking him. “I always will. I’ll take care of you now.”

She nodded, held back her tears. He was grateful. “I know, sweetie.” She brushed a kiss to his cheek. He caught the familiar scent of her Liz Claiborne perfume. She pulled back from him, gathered herself, and smiled. “Are you staying for lunch?”

“Did I smell chicken and dumplings on my way in?”

“You did.”

“Then yes, I’m staying.”

Mothering–nurturing and loving something to fruition— is so worth it.  In all that you do.

So let’s celebrate all those ‘mommies’ out there . . . whether you’re the mother to a child, a furry creature, a fictional character, or perhaps something else . . . we’ve all got our own labors of love.  So tell me, what’s yours?

***

Thanks for being here, Shauna!  Gotta love those tough guys that love their mamas!  So, like she said, tell us about your labors of love, whatever they are, and three lucky commenters will win a copy of Shauna's book which will be released from Soul Mate Publishing this week!  Good luck!

Shauna grew up an only child with two open and loving parents in Central Texas.  She’s married to her high school sweetheart and is the mother to three fantastic (no, that’s not a typo!) teenagers. 

When she’s not writing, editing, or acting as a personal assistant to a NYT Bestselling author, Shauna enjoys reading, movies with Gerard Butler, vacays to the beach, and hangin’ with the kiddos–even if they don’t like hangin’ with her!

For more information about me or my book, please visit my website and blog at: www.shaunaallen.com
Soul Mate Publishing: http://www.soulmatepublishing.com

Facebook : http://www.facebook.com/shauna.allen.12

Twitter : http://tiny.cc/s0dlmw

Pinterest : http://pinterest.com/shaunaallen7/

P.S. Here's the book trailer for Inked by an Angel : Book I of the Cupid Chronicles if anyone wants to take a sneak peek!  :)