School Days or is it School Daze

By Robin "Red Hot" Kaye







I don’t know about you, but for me, the best day of the year is always the first day of school even though each child comes home with an inch-thick stack of forms to fill out. By the time I finish filling out the forms, I’ve got a major case of writer’s cramp but even that doesn’t diminish my happiness.

After enduring a full summer of kids whining about being bored, fighting about one or another of them hogging the TV, or standing in front of the refrigerator complaining that there’s nothing to eat but ingredients, I’m subjected to my definition of hell. School shopping.

There’s nothing worse than walking through Walmart with three lists of school supplies among one-hundred other frazzled parents, each with their 1.5 children begging for a Dora the Explorer backpack and having temper tantrums when the kids hear the word no. Hell is trying to find two-pocket folders with the metal fasteners in six different colors, and six packs of three different size post it notes while pushing a cart full of $150 of other supplies while not taking your hand off said cart because, lets face it, everyone else’s cart looks exactly the same and you don’t want to start the process over again. I hang onto my cart like my life depends upon it, and the way I feel when I’m finished, it probably does.

At 7:05 in the morning, after giving my youngest a hug and a kiss goodbye, and saying the words I say every school day “Make it a good day, Sweetie. The decision is yours.” I watch her climb the steps of her beautiful yellow school bus and I feel a sense of freedom. I want to do my own version of the Snoopy Happy Dance, but not only is it 7:05 in the morning, I haven’t had time to finish my first cup of coffee, and there’s a line of cars waiting behind the school bus who witness the show and probably call 911 thinking I was having some sort of seizure. So every year I walk sedately back up the slowly deteriorating concrete steps that make the steep hill from my front door to the street somewhat manageable with my coffee in hand. I step through the front door and am greeted by my very happy dog who is free to do the Snoopy Happy Dance, since, like Snoopy, she’s a dog and cares nothing about humans thinking they’re insane or epileptic. She’s just thrilled to be rid of her competition for Mom’s attention. I finish my coffee, clean up what’s left of the disaster of the kitchen, and participate in a ritual I’ve had since the first day my youngest child started first grade and all three kids were going to full-day school.

A very good friend of mine sent me a one-pound box of Sea’s Chocolate and a bottle of wine with instructions to open both, run a nice bubble bath, and indulge. After the bath, most of the chocolate (if you haven’t eaten Sea’s Chocolate you haven’t lived) and about a half-bottle of wine, we had an on-line party, which is a necessity since Kay lives in Seattle and I’m in Maryland. We Skype and celebrate our newfound freedom while ingesting a week’s worth of calories and catching a nice buzz. I’ve done this for seven years. The first day of school, I’ll fill out all those forms under-the-influence of my lovely Shiraz, which makes the writers cramp tolerable.

Next Tuesday is my first day of freedom. So think of me taking a lovely bubble bath, stuffing my face with chocolate, and washing it down with a fabulous Shiraz and then having an on-line party. Let me know if you want to join me, and tell me what you do to celebrate freedom, or what you would do, if you have a day all to yourself with out kids. Curious minds want to know.

The Stars at Night . . . by Diane Kelly

To the above left are my guys at the McDonald Observatory. Aren't they cute?

When you go on vacation in a remote area, it's important to take emergency provisions. That's me above on the right with my industrial-size tub of cheez balls.

The stars at night,
Are big and bright,
Deep in the heart of Texas!

My guys and I spent the weekend stargazing at the McDonald Observatory, which is probably more accurately described as being in the armpit of Texas rather than the heart, but was beautiful nonetheless. Given its isolated location near Fort Davis, there was no light pollution, making the Milky Way very vivid. I’ve never seen anything like it! Of course learning that the earth is basically a tiny, insignificant speck in the enormous vastness of space sure can make a person feel like a little Who in Whoville!

As a mystery lover, what I found most intriguing was not what astronomers have learned about space, but what they haven’t. Is there life out there? Do black holes really exist? Have we been visited, and had our orifices probed, by more intelligent creatures or is that just a bunch of hogwash? Who knows!

The second mystery of our trip involved a thirty-mile drive down the road to Marfa, Texas. We had dinner at the Paisano Hotel, the place where Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, and James Dean stayed while filming the movie “Giant.” That place serves the best portabella mushroom burger in the universe! Once it was dark, we headed out to the viewing area for the “Marfa Lights.” These mysterious lights, which are of various colors and reportedly appear to dance across the desert, have been documented for centuries. Unfortunately, these lights are elusive, appearing only when they darn well feel like it. Last night they apparently weren’t in the mood. Though it was disappointing that we didn’t get to see them, the fact that they didn’t appear made them all the more mysterious to me. And now I have an excuse to come back to the area. I never expected to fall in love with this high desert, but the cooler weather and the clear sky have sold me on it.

Of course not everything on the trip was a mystery. As we drove through Pecos, Texas, a teeny town known for its cantaloupes, we noticed a sign proudly proclaiming Pecos as the home of the world’s first rodeo. No mystery there. The place is no more than a wide spot in the road in the middle of nowhere. Not much in the way of entertainment. I’m guessing one Saturday night long ago, a bored cowboy looked at his buddy and said, “Hey, Bubba, I double-dog dare you to ride that mean-looking bull over yonder.” Bubba agreed, on the condition that Billy Joe then wrestle a three-hundred pound javelina. Now that’s entertainment!

Back when we lived in California, we visited a place known as the “Mystery Spot,” which is in the woodsy mountains near Santa Cruz. Although the proprietors claim the place is a vortex with a mysterious gravitational anomaly, it seemed to me to be nothing more than a funhouse built on a slope. We still had a good time, though.

I also enjoyed visiting Chichen Itza, an extensive Mayan ruin on the Yucatan peninsula. My hubby and I took an excursion there while on our honeymoon cruise. I was fascinated by the fact that such an ancient culture could build an observatory to exact specifications when the staff at my local fast-food joints can’t even manage to get our order right.

What are some of the most fascinating or mysterious places you’ve visited? We’d love to hear about them!

I just received advanced reading copies of Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure! One lucky person who posts a comment today will receive an ARC. Check back at 9:00 pm Central Time to see if you're the winner!

My no-good-very-bad-can't-end-soon-enough week

Ever had one of those weeks where you wish you could just stay in bed, and you cannot wait for Friday? Welcome to my week. The good news? It's Friday! The bad news? We're out of tequila. Must remedy that quickly. Why, you might ask? Here are the highlights:

1) My fabulous editor at St. Martin's press left me. She's off to a new job that sounds lovely, which I can't blame her for. And she's left me in what I gather are the very capable hands of another editor. But… I'm still bummed. My editor was such a champion of my new, soon-to-be-launched series, and it feels very scary and lonely to lose that wonderful of a cheerleader prior to release day.

2) The house hunt has gone from depressing and desperate to downright laughably ridiculous lately. I actually stood in a line of twenty people, lined up outside an open house this week, being herded in one at a time like cattle only to be interrogated about my job history of the last five years. And the place was barely bigger than a shoebox! We saw one house that we actually liked this week and could *almost* afford if we give up non-essentials like eating three times a day (who needs breakfast, anyway?). But as soon as we expressed interest, so did four other couples, and the landlord raised the rent by $200 a month and told us she required a $6000 security deposit plus four moths rent up front. Seriously? For a rental? That's bigger than most people's down payment!

3) The Big Boy has summer camp this week from noon to 6pm. I only have the babysitter for Baby Boy from 10 am to 1pm. So, there is only a one hour overlap from noon to 1pm where I am child-free to write everyday. One. Freaking. Hour. It's driving me insane. My muse is so jacked up on caffeine she can't think straight. Deadlines should not exist during summer break.

4) The people in the apartment next door to us just had a new baby. Which is a wonderful, amazing, joyous occasion… as long as it's not 2AM. All night long I listened to the little darling cry her itty-bitty lungs out through our thin walls. And this morning our coffee pot broke. Talk about timing, huh?

So… how was your week? Anyone else need a margarita? (Off to Starbucks, then the grocery store to remedy our tequila-less situation.  Hey, I'm pretty sure it's 5 o'clock in Paris already. ;) )



~Trigger Happy Halliday

Jeepers Creepers!

I'm a sucker for a good haunted house story. Book or movie, scary stories that don't depend on gory slasher scenes or horrific devices of torture have always appealed to me. I remember reading the book AMMIE, COME HOME by Barbara Michaels a very long time ago and it scared the bejeebers out of me. I still love a great ghost story.

Last Friday night, it was yet another scorcher of a day. In fact, early last week my little hometown had the dubious distinction of being the hottest place in the USA with a scorching 'feels like' temperature of 137 degrees. All I want once I get home from work is to fill a large bowl with ice cream, sit down in my air-conditioned living room, put my feet up, and watch a movie.

I'd rented Insidious. One of the kids had heard it was scary so two-thirds of the triplets and yours truly sat down to enjoy some 'family time' and, hopefully, have the wits scared out of us.

We put the movie in around 8. We're sitting in the living room with all the lights off and the movie is at a rather critical part when outside the sky begins to darken and thunder rumbles in the distance. At first I don't pay it all that much attention. Then, more thunder. Closer, this time. The wind picks up. It starts to rain.

I pull the curtain aside to take a peak out, keeping one eye on the weather and one eye on the TV screen. Another crack of thunder--this time really close--and I look away from the telly just as both of my children let out a scream. At that moment, all hell breaks loose outside my window. Wind like you wouldn't believe sends sheets of rain against the windows, lightning flashes, and the lights blink. The sound of hail hitting the roof and windows is almost drowned out by a fierce, gale force wind. We hear a strange noise and my daughter rushes to the patio door and looks out into the back yard. And then I hear the words every mother dreads:

"Mom, you better come look at this."

I go over to the patio door off the dining room and look out--and see my utility shed being lifted off the ground.

We can only stare at the bizarre sight.

Lightning flashes and a great boom of thunder follows. The electricity goes out. More lightning. More thunder. And my shed is still trying to take flight.

Five minutes later the wind has died down and the rain is letting up.

We make our way to the shed in the back yard and this is what we see:

Fortunately, the shed got hung up on the garage or who knows where it might have ended up.

Have you had any bizarre or weird occurrences you'd like to share? A time when you had the pants scared clean off you? Near misses from scary storms?

And me? I'm thinking it will be awhile before I'm up for another scary movie family night.

Just sayin'.

~Bullet Hole~

Who was your first?

The first author who resonated with you, made you want to rush out and read the rest of a series, the author who made you care?

For me, it was Anne Rice, during the fall of ’92 at the University of Missouri. My roommates and I were talking one night and it turned out they’d all read this amazing vampire series.

Vampires were cutting edge at the time. My friend Shay handed me a copy of Interview with the Vampire and an obsession was born. I missed every one of my classes that week as I read Interview, and then The Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned and The Tale of the Body Thief. I couldn’t put those books down. And my friends, like the enablers they were, ate it up.

Now, sixteen years later, I don’t remember much about Economics 51 or Calculus (thank goodness), but I can still call up that giddy feeling I had when I discovered a new series, heck a new genre, that I knew I’d read again and again.

Do you remember the first time you discovered a new genre? Or a series that made you the reader or the writer you are today? Share with us and one lucky commenter will win a copy of The Dangerous Book for Demon Slayers!

Goals and Parakeets

I’ve always been a goal-oriented person. I’d decide on what that goal was, and go after it with a fierce, blinding determination. Granted, some of that came from not thinking things through long enough—I tend to do things the hard way.

When I was five years old I lived with my grandparents in Florida and I decided I wanted my very own parakeet. At the time there were parakeets flying around wild. Since I had no money to go to a pet store and buy one, I decided to catch myself a pet. I took an extra birdcage from my grandparents’ garage, put bird seed in the bottom of the cage to attract my future pet, and held onto a string tied to the door from a ways a way so when the bird few in, I'd let go of the string and have the pet of my dreams. Nanny was all for it—what bright adult wouldn’t be? I’m sure my grandmother thought it was one hell of a fine way to keep me out of her hair for a few hours. I was a bit of a precocious kid. What she, my mother, and the neighbors didn’t expect was for me to sit out there for three days, only going in when ordered to eat and sleep. On the fourth day, I must have dozed off in my chair, and when I awoke, there was a baby bird in my cage. I was so ecstatic, I called him Happy. It never occurred to me that this bird was way too young to fly, heck, he didn’t even have many feathers. Happy was so young, we ended up having to crush his bird seed, wet it down, and spoon feed him every few hours. Many years later I learned the neighbor, who had a nest of parakeets in his backyard birdhouse, took pity on me. He snatched Happy from the nest, and put him in the cage while I slept.

When I decided I wanted to be a published author, I jumped in with both feet. There’s no sticking in a big toe to test the water with me. No, I race, blindly sometimes, to that goal and trust everything will work out. After all, I’ve been told I have enough sheer will for ten people. But I’ve learned sheer will is not enough, although I don’t think it’s possible to get published and stay published without it. What I didn’t know I needed was support.

When I told my husband I wanted to write toward publication, when I stated my goal—something he’d been encouraging me to do for a while, the first thing he said was that since I had two full-time jobs (writing and taking care of the kids) and he only had one (working to pay the bills) that he’d take over the laundry and cleaning. I know, I’m really, really lucky! Together we sped toward my/our goal, making our three kids team players. I thought I had everything I needed until the first day I walked into an RWA Chapter’s sponsored event and met other writers—writers who asked me what I was working on, who took an interest in someone bound and determined to move forward despite not knowing which direction to take. Some of whom became my dearest of friends. These are the friends who gently steer me in the right direction when they think I’ve gone off course. They are friends who are there to bolster my confidence when it slips into the depths of bad reviews or writer's block. They’re the friends who listen to me whine and tell me that my work doesn’t suck when it doesn’t, and that it does suck when it’s warranted. Oh yeah, and those friends don’t just stop with writing. No, they’ve become a huge part of the rest of my life too.

I realized that without those friends like my old neighbor who waited until my back was turned and stuck a baby parakeet in my cage, I would never have achieved my goal. My writing friends have put metaphoric parakeets in my cage I didn’t recognize for years later, and some I might never find out about, but when it comes right down to it, I’m grateful for every phone call asking me how I’m doing, every time they give me the gentle push to do better.

The other night after a long, hard writing session, I was outside with my dog, looking up into the stars and counting my blessings. I’ve achieved another goal, I sold a new series to NAL and I know I didn’t achieve it alone. I’m grateful and I thank God every day for my family and for my family of writers. Like I said before, I’m very, very lucky.

Welcome Harlequin Intrigue Author, Dana Marton

Today, I'm bringing you a guest post by Harlequin Intrigue author, Dana Marton. If you're an Intrigue fan, you've probably read some of Dana's heart-stopping, action-packed books. Today, Dana tells us a little bit about her writing career.

You Don't Always Get What You Want - But What You Get Can Be Much Better

A friend of mine and I were talking about our jobs over the years. He’s had two. I had a dozen in the same amount of time. A few of my jobs disappeared due to company closure. A few I had to leave due to moving because of my husband’s job. I have to say, I never once quit and walked away just because the work was hard and the pay was low, and most of my jobs fell in that category. My last traditional job ended when the international company I worked for closed their U.S. office. I can honestly say that was one of the best things that had ever happened to me.

I decided to keep my office hours while I was looking for work. I sat down by my computer at 8 a.m. and didn’t get up until 5 p.m., Monday through Friday. In between sending out resumes, I started to write SHADOW SOLDIER. I’ve been writing on the side for about a dozen years by that point. But being able to give concentrated focus to my writing at last made a huge difference. SHADOW SOLDIER became the first book I ever sold. I didn’t get the steady, comes with benefits job I was looking for, but I got to see my dream of being a writer come true. I truly believe that sometimes God has something so much better in store for us than the thing we’re praying for.

Now that I’ve written 25 books, I keep dreaming of that BIG contract. I have fabulous author friends who’ve gotten calls from publishers with offers that would make me faint flat on the kitchen floor. Some have even gotten movie deals. I can spend hours daydreaming about that one, picking which A-list actor would play my action hero. But instead of the fame and fortune thing, a quiet, wonderful thing started to happen for my writing lately.

I started direct publishing.

I wrote GUARDIAN AGENT and released it straight to my readers. No publisher backing, no PR fanfare. Just a note here and there to the people I know like my writing. And, amazingly, they bought the book. The feedback has been fantastic. Yesterday, GUARDIAN AGENT, a story of a commando soldier who, in a high-stakes chase, comes face-to-face with the woman who’s been in love with him for the last decade, was #27 on Amazon’s list, out of all romantic suspense books currently in print. It’s not like being a New York Time’s bestseller, but it sure is a good thing and kept me smiling all day.

In GUARDIAN AGENT, instead of the rogue soldier he thought he was chasing, the hero gets this fireball of passion from his past. Which brings me back to my initial thought… We don’t always get what we want, but sometimes what we get can be oh so much better!

For more information on Dana and her work, check out her website.