Well, I'm on a roll now. Here today is my friend and Chapter mate, Amy Ruttan! Hi Ho Matey, Arrghh!! *Aside: I'm practicing the pirate speak since one of Amy's TWO May releases is a fantastic pirate romance, but I have a feeling I may just have to leave that to the crew on board the Romance Writers' Revenge!

JK: I want to thank you so much for um..."offering" to be my special guest today. Try not to pull too much on that rope. You wouldn’t want to chafe your wrists.

Amy: He he he, well I do write for Ellora’s Cave. Thankfully, they teach us all about chaffing.

JK: So, let’s start with the most important question: Don’t you think my blog totally rocks? It’s just too bad nobody comes by to read it. I did mention that didn’t I? Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you actually wanted to get something useful out of this. But with that in mind, I guess you’ll want to mention your new book?

Amy: I love your blog. I visit! Aren’t I somebody? Ooh that’s pretty bad grammar, LOL. Sure, I can mention my books, since I have two releases this month. My first release this month was May 22nd at Ellora’s Cave and it’s titled Oh Yum! Love Thy Neighbour. The Oh Yum! Series is about older women and younger men. My second release this month is through Cerridwen Press and it’s titled Fox’s Bride. It’s a historical romance about a woman pirate and her aristocratic husband.

JK: Ok, enough about that. What really matters is that you promise to name your next character after me. What do you mean you don’t know my real name? I thought we were friends. Do you want me to have to keep that rope on all day? Oh wait, you’re not writing a historical are you? I don’t know if I want to be in a historical. I swear way too much for that kind of character. What is your next book about by the way? Details woman. Details.

Amy: LOL!! Ooh you really do crack a whip don’t you, and you always seem so shy and unassuming. I just finished a historical that is set in 1880 Scotland. I also just finished a book that I targeted at the Shomi Fiction line. Currently, though I’m working on a couple of stories for Ellora’s Cave and one for Harlequin.

JK: Wow, you’re pretty busy. I'm flattered that you made time for this interview, but now I feel kinda bad about the hundred emails I sent you. Um, anyway, moving right along, here’s a question I’ll bet you’ve never had before. What’s your favourite colour? Food? Place to visit?

Amy: Nope, never been asked that. Colour Pink. Food pasta and favourite place to visit, Northern Ontario. I love me some Muskokas.

JK: Are you bored yet?

Amy: Always. Just kidding I have no time to be bored.

JK: Oh, okay, I’ve got a good one. If you were magically transported through time via the awesome magic of television what character of Buffy the Vampire Slayer would you most want to be? (Um, I wouldn’t pick the Inca Mummy girl...she dies)

Amy: I don’t watch Buffy. I’ve never seen Buffy. *shaking head in shame*, but I guess I would want to be a character that snogs James Marsters aka Spike. I do know who he is via Torchwood.

JK: Yeah, Spike is hot. But geez, you’ve never watched it? Even once? And you’re my friend? Something is wrong here.

Okay, was there anything else you wanted to tell my five readers? (*whisper* This is your only chance, better make it good)

Amy: PRESSURE!!! ACK!! I don’t think I can handle it. Well, don’t give up on your dreams. I always wanted to be a writer, and I just kept working and now my dreams are coming true. Umm, watch Torchwood. And if you sign up for my newsletter you have a chance to win some pretty cool prizes. I love having contests. Ok, that was pretty pathetic, but that whip crack hurt me back a bit. (Talking in a Welsh accent). LOL!

JK: Right, like I’m gonna watch Torchwood now that I found out you never saw one Buffy episode.

Great, I guess that about covers everything anyone would ever want to know about you. So why don’t we just put that gag back in...

Thanks so much for visiting!

Amy: Mmfank froo fro mraving ree.

AN ANNOUNCEMENT!

I want to let you know about a fabulous interview (if I do say so myself) that I did with author Amy Ruttan, who'll be visiting the blog on May 30, 2008 to celebrate the release of TWO books this month!

Love Thy Neighbor is out from Ellora's Cave as of May 22, 2008.

And Fox's Bride will be available from Cerridwen Press May 29, 2008. You don't want to miss these books, but more importantly, don't miss the interview on May 30!

I'm all about the firsts here on the blog these days. Celebrating the release of my first book, hosting my first interview, welcoming my first guest author, and now everyone should be impressed I'm doing my first review! For an author that I absolutely love. EVE SILVER!

Eve writes sexy gothic historicals under the name Eve Silver, and speculative romantic fiction as Eve Kenin. Hidden will be released under her Kenin name by SHOMI (Dorchester) in July, 2008. It's a futuristic romance set in a post-apocalyptic frozen waste that you don't want to miss.


Tatiana has spent her life hidden. Imprisoned underground by a vicious madman bent on exploiting her unique genetic gifts to further his sadistic scientific experiments—experiments that he has used to create a devastating plague that is about to be unleashed on the people of the Northern Waste.

Now that she is free, she has two things on the immediate agenda: to find her family and save the world. Both of which are probably impossible. Adding to her frustration is the mysterious and sexy Tristan, who is a complication she doesn’t need, a temptation she is uncomfortable with, a piece of the puzzle she needs to figure out.

This sequel to Kenin’s award winning first book, Driven, is an intense, sensual story that stands all on its own with vivid characters and fast-paced action that drew me in from the beginning right through to the very end. I can’t wait to read more from this gifted author.


And with that, I'll let you all in on a little secret...Eve Silver/Kenin is going to be a guest with us over at the Vauxhall Vixens on July 7, 2008!

As promised, today I have debut author Maria Zannini with me, who has graciously agreed to submit to torture--Um, I mean do an interview!

J.K.: Hi Maria, before we start, let me tell my five readers how fabulous you are. *Aside: She’s fabulous guys, trust me.* Ok, so now I need to apologize for getting these questions to you at the very last minute. I promise, if the answers are lame and hokey, my readers will know that it is totally my fault. *Aside: It’s totally Maria’s fault.* So, let’s move along then, shall we?

J.K.: Touch of Fire is your first book. How did you feel on release day? Were you nervous about how readers would react to it?

MARIA.: Well, let’s see, release day was May 20. On that day, I was running a fever, my head was stuffed up and I was recovering from eye surgery. But I had a book coming out! So all in all, I was feeling pretty peachy!

J.K.: Oh sure, I’ll bet. But I guess it could be hard to see that first book if your eyes are glued shut.

MARIA.: It's probably for the best I was under the weather or someone would have had to tether me to the ground. There’s nothing like a first book. It’s like having your first kiss, your first chocolate, your first…well you get the idea.

J.K.: Mmm. Yes. Yes I do. Okay, mind’s out of the gutter now, I promise. So, how long have you been writing? What inspired you to pick the pen up one day and create such compelling characters?

MARIA: Are your readers going to crucify me if I say it's only been about three years?

J.K.: Yes they will, but please go on.

MARIA: I was a graphic and fine artist my entire adult life. About three years ago, I was rattling about my house looking for something to do on a rainy day. I sat down and wrote my first science fiction short story. It finaled in the Writers of the Future Contest. By then the writing bug was fully entrenched in my bloodstream and I was hooked. I haven’t stopped learning (or writing) since.

J.K.: That’s great, Maria! So what do you feel is the most important thing that a first-time author should know?

MARIA: Oh, do you have a few hours? LOL! If I were to give only one piece of advice it would be to get your website and blog established long before you get published. You will not have time once that contract is signed. Trust me. When you sign on that dotted line, the time-space continuum warps and you will forever be trying to play catch-up.

J.K.: That’s great advice, and don’t I know how true it is. Good thing I have a little brother I was able to blackmail into doing my website for me. So what genre do you want to try your hand at but haven’t yet?

MARIA: I've never told anyone this, but I would love to try a YA historical. Maybe I'm the exception, but I would've loved to have read more historical novels when I was a kid.

J.K.: Woo hoo, we know something no one else knows yet! (ha ha ha Take that Maya Reynolds!) And what do you hope for your writing career in the next few years? Any goals that you have yet to obtain that you have set for yourself?

MARIA: I still want to sign with an agent even though I seem to have pretty good luck attracting editors. A good agent might relieve me of all the legwork I have to do in finding the right publishing house.

J.K.: Most people envision an author’s life as being really glamorous. What’s the most unglamorous thing that you’ve done in the past week?

MARIA: Where are these glamorous authors? Tell me, please! I want to see how the other half lives. When it comes to writing, the most unglamorous thing I've done this past week is untangle my computer's cabling. Somehow I ended up with an extra cord and I have no idea where it goes. Good thing no one at my house is on life support.

J.K.: So now the important questions. What books are currently on your nightstand?

MARIA: I've been reading a lot of dry research material lately. The sequel to Touch Of Fire will deal with time travel and I've been taking notes on all the latest theories.

J.K.: Do you have a pesky day job?

MARIA: Yup. I'm the art director at a major communications corporation. In other words, I save the world from bad advertising.

J.K.: Oh, maybe you should have saved the world from that Sumo wrestler commercial for Subaru. Now, if you had to write yourself as a heroine, what kind of heroine would you be? What would you be named?

MARIA: Oh, I much prefer to stay on the sidelines wreaking havoc. I suffer from demi-god syndrome. Isn't that why we all become authors?

J.K.: Um, sure. I thought it was for all the free books from other authors, but whatever. If you were a world ruler and you were given a choice of 3 laws to enact, what would they be?

MARIA: There's only one law necessary. Maria is always right. At least that's what my husband says, and he's a man of impeccable logic.

J.K.: You're the heroine of your book, why do you fall in love with the hero?

MARIA: I love a confident man! If I were the heroine in my book, I would instantly be drawn to a man with a large…

JK: Hmmm.

MARIA: JK! Get your mind out of the gutter! Honestly. I thought this was a family blog.

JK: You started it. By the way, who said it was a family blog? I didn’t say that. (She turns to cute little five-year old boy child who is pulling on her leg asking for dinner as if he didn’t just eat four hours ago—‘Honey, why don’t you raid the cracker box and leave mommy alone for a few minutes to finish this, ‘kay?’)

Maria, thank you so much for being here. You’re my very first interview. Don’t tell anyone how awful it was, or how unorganized I am. And before we go, let us know what’s next for you.

MARIA: I'm so glad I was your first. Another round of virgins for all of us! Thank you so much for having me over! You were a gracious hostess and I loved the virtual wienies on a stick.

J.K.: Thanks! Next time leave some of them for the hostess, ‘kay?

Maria's Bio:
As relentless as a Rottweiler in a Chihuahua's body, she's interested in everything and everyone and loves to meet new people. Visit her often. The doctors say she's safe now. The rabies test came back negative.

Links:
Find me here:
http://www.mariazannini.com/
http://mariazannini.blogspot.com/
http://www.myspace.com/mariazannini

Buy TOUCH OF FIRE here:
http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/product_info.php?products_id=973

Those Raven Nights!

Raven Radio, as mentioned in Romantic Times Magazine, is moving to nights! Tune in every Wed at 11-12 PM EST and join Authors Michelle Pillow and Mandy Roth as they talk about everything, nothing and the paranormal. Guests include NY Times and USA Today Bestselling authors as well as those wonderfully talented authors soon to be there, editors, paranormal tour guides, psychics, ghost hunters, specialists and more!

www.ravenhappyhour.com or http://www.blogtalkradio.com/ravenradio


Listeners are welcome to join the live chat or call in to the show to talk to us and our guests. The show will move to its new evening schedule, May 28th where listeners can catch us every Wednesday at 11PM to 12AM EST. We have a lot of authors on the upcoming line up and you can see a full schedule of guests here: http://ravenhappyhour.com/raven_podcast_schedule_of_guests.htm

WANT TO JOIN THE VIRAL CONTEST AND HELP SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT RAVEN NIGHTS? Go to Raven’s blog to learn how you could win free advertising packages! Contest open to authors, readers and other groups! http://ravenhappyhour.com/ravenblog/?p=463

I am very pleased to introduce my friend Melody Knight, who graciously agreed to prepare a post to celebrate the release of her book GlassWorks from Red Rose Publishing, which is out TODAY! Welcome her with many posts!

Simply Horror-ble

I write horror novels. When I tell people that, they have a difficult time believing it. After all, I look much more like a blonde bimbo than someone who creates monsters in the privacy of her living room. But I just love writing horror…

I didn't begin with any intention of writing scary stuff. I wrote fantasy at first. When a movie company told me they liked my "voice", and asked whether I could write science fiction, I said "Of course", then proceeded to learn how. The horror crept in, though, from that first fantasy draft. It was a product of the thrill, the suspense, the edginess. It wasn't until I hit my paranormal stride that the true horror hit the surface. Now it just sits there much of the time, treading water…

How did my romance novels sprout? Frankly, it was a matter of expediency. I felt that my SF, fantasy, and horror novels weren't really acquiring enough of a public, which meant I needed to push my personal envelope. I'd already done that with book in a month, so I decided to push it further. Romance-writing friends assured me I could do it. I just needed to learn how.

Talk about your learning curves! Romance is very different from science fiction and other speculative fiction genres. The characterization must be shifted, from response/react to a situation, to response/react to one other person. And to be honest, in romance the storyline is not nearly as important as the emotional journey. The setting is window dressing to illustrate your protagonists' qualities, whether good or bad. Qualifiers for the interaction.

Which do I enjoy writing more? The books of my heart, of course, which you might automatically assume are books of The Heart. Wrong! I love writing my SF, fantasy, and paranormal suspense novels much more than romances. I like romances for their brevity, and the fact I can produce twice the number of books and know there are readers out there for them.

Does this sound awful? Not to me, because the romance genre has been an eye-opening experience! Never have I met more authors I like, or experienced the camaraderie, the interaction with readers, the appreciation by the public, or the fun that I have experienced writing romance. As far as "emotional journeys" go, writing romances can't be beat! Just as the characterization in romance novels is different, so is the relationship between writers. Romance novelists, from what I can see, are more open and eager to network, to help out their fellows. I love it!

If I had a chance to do it over, would I still write romances? Yes, but I'd begin writing them sooner. Romances are a hopeful genre, with Happily Ever Afters around every curve, and a horror writer needs that kind of upbeat feedback.

Three cheers for the romance novelist!

Thanks, J. K., for inviting me to blog today!

Regards,
Melody

Excerpt from GlassWorks

Cate picked up the slab of glass from its tilted resting spot. It had dropped nearly intact. Her fingers shook as the first tracings of shimmery silica began to move beneath the surface. All those crystalline lattices somehow rearranging themselves…

She froze, her breath frosting the glass from the sudden chill. Gooseflesh rose on her skin as the air around her grew cold.

It had never happened this way before.

The man was lying there, in the glass, his body sprawled with the indignity of all things dead and unburied. Cate's breath caught in her throat, the unspent fog almost choking her. Oh, God!

It wasn't here—hadn't happened here—but it was happening now.

There was an argument lingering, on the air. She couldn't see the moment of confrontation, or the altercation, but it had been about the mutilated body on the ground. About how to deal with it, to cast off blame with as much ease as they'd cast away his life.

Only, they didn't realize he could hear them still. Hear them and hate them.

Because it had always been about his looks. His looks, and justifying what he was. The grave they were giving him, the twisted notoriety they were planning, would leave him neither looks nor justice.

Cate's eyes focused on his face. What they'd done, what they were doing to the rest of him didn't bear watching.

But, apparently, she did. Bear watching, that is.

The corpse's eyes opened, to stare straight at her.

Cate flinched, twitched, recoiled, but she couldn't let go. Some part of her was screaming, but she was no longer sure whether it was her...or him.

She clung to the pane, trapped. When, a forever it seemed, later, she freed her fingers enough to fling it, she remained there rigid, staring, as the moonglow image shattered in a hundred spiky shards.

Some part of her was still recoiling, as if in reflex to a striking snake.

God help me!

In those instants of metaphysical contact, she felt as though one shriveled digit had touched her. Spanned the gap between life and death—

I'm not a medium!

She'd never been a medium—never even come close. It had been the one blessing, in an otherwise twisted gift, that however conversant she might have become with a dead person's past, she was never conversant with the dead!

Until now, it seemed. Cate backed away, panted white puffs coiling and twisting in the otherwise still air.

I'm not alone.

It should have been comforting, that there was a taxi driver waiting just outside, but somehow, it came out differently. That "I'm not alone" was filled with horror. The taxi driver might be outside, but something else moved within. In a dreadful moment, she knew she'd brought this on herself—that by coming here she'd been willing, demanding almost, a contact with his person—had wanted so badly to save him, that she'd drawn in a soul barely severed from its body.

Cate backed, tripped, twisted, and ran. She tore the length of the room as though the Devil were at her heels, and slammed open the end door with a loud squawking thunk. Using two hands, Cate wrenched the door closed again, locking evil within. She stumbled back, the small door pane fixing her into its framed panel.

He wasn't within. Behind her, his hatred ever so much more pronounced in proximity, was the mutilated visage of the recently deceased.

http://www.redrosepublishing.com

Another Announcement!

Fellow Linden Bay Romance Author Melody Knight, who also writes fabulous sci-fi and horror novels as N.D. Hansen-Hill will be visiting the blog this Thursday, May 22 to talk about her new book GlassWorks from Red Rose Publishing. She's going to do all the work for me, which means I owe her big time, so everyone make sure to stop by and comment often!

I have great news! My friend and fellow writer Maria Zannini's debut novel, Touch of Fire is released TODAY by Samhain!

Be sure to visit me on Monday, May 26 to read my interview with Maria, and in the meantime don't forget to check out her book!


Between mage and man lies fire.

Leda has been ordered by the House of Ilia to use her fae gifts to find an alchemist’s bible, no matter what the cost. In a world where technology has been replaced by Elemental magic, this book is more dangerous than any spell or potion.

A ragged scrap of parchment is Leda’s only clue and it leads her to the last man known to have had the book—a savagely handsome ex-soldier turned scavenger. Greyhawke Tams. He’ll serve her needs nicely, in both her quest, and her bed.

The last thing Grey remembers is a bar brawl leaving him flat on his face. When he awakes, his situation hasn’t improved. He’s been bound in service to a contemptuous little fire mage with luscious curves and a deceptively innocent face. Grey’s not fooled—he’s hated the Elementals ever since he lost his younger brother to their brutal rites of passage.

But something about Leda tangles his brain faster than any woman he’s ever known. And soon it becomes clear she needs more than his “services”. A barbarous overlord wants that book and he’s willing to shatter Leda—body and spirit—to get it.

She needs his protection. Whether she wants it or not.

Sorry to anyone who tried to come chat at Romance at Heart tonight. Apparently there were "technical difficulties" and the chat will be rescheduled.

_____________________________________________

Hey everyone! I'll be chatting in the Author's Grill at Romance at Heart tonight, Monday, May 19th at 9pm Eastern Standard Time about My Immortal, book 1 in my Immortals Series! I really hope to see you there! One chatter will win a free copy of the book.

The chat room link is: Romance at Heart

I hope to see you there and look forward to chatting with you.

[PHOTO REMOVED]



I find this photo soothing. There's a sense of peace here, a serenity to this scene that calls to me, which is good because serenity isn't something that I've been able to call upon reliably in the last little while. But I try, and it also helps to think of why I started doing this in the first place. My family and friends who showed me unending support and understanding. And all of the new friends I've met who have come to mean so much to me.

It's been interesting times. Thank you all for sticking with me along the way.

My Immortal

Now available in print!

ORDER YOURS






Evil lurks in the darkest of shadows, but a band of warriors stands ready to defend humanity against hell’s own monsters—Immortal men hand-picked by destiny and taken out of time hold the fate of the world in their hands.

One of the oldest of his kind, Immortal warrior Rhys Morgan spends his nights on the streets of Chandler protecting the city’s innocents from the demons that hunt them. Unyielding in purpose and uncompromising in battle, Rhys thought he’d never meet his match, until he met Amy Bennett.

Rash and impetuous, Amy dashes into a fight, taking Rhys by surprise. He can’t decide whether she’s incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. But when the fight is over and Rhys is unable to get the beautiful human out of his head or his dreams, he knows his life is about to get complicated.

The barriers between the unlikely pair may be as thick and strong as the evil that threatens them, but some things can’t be denied…and dark, mysterious, sexy Rhys Morgan is one of them.

Jump on over to my blog at the Vixens today and help me out with my new book The Trouble With Destiny. One commenter will win a free e-book of My Immortal on the release day of May 15, 2008. But you have to work for it!

Great news! I've gotten my first review back for My Immortal and here's a taste of what they're saying about it:


"This book grabs you from the beginning and never lets go..."

"Rhys is everything you’d want in a wounded, bad boy hero..."

"Amy is everything good about chic-lit with none of the bad..."
- Fallen Angel Reviews

Click here to read the full review!

UPDATES:

My novella is finished! YAY! It has tentatively been entitled The Trouble With Destiny, and I think everyone is really going to like Sarah and Dorian. They've been my most fun characters to write to date.

That means that I will be buckling down to finish writing Book 3 in the Immortals Series, Dark Immortal. It's going to be tough. Alric and Diana are a perfect, beautiful couple, but their path is no easy one.


I'm hosting an interview with fellow Linden Bay Romance author Cat Johnson all this week at the Linden Bay MySpace Blog, so be sure to drop in and get to know Cat, her Task Force Zeta series is fabulous, with strong, sexy military men that will knock your socks off.

And last, but not least, please visit my friend Alex Beecroft's blog this week, to read my latest interview.

So my new favourite show is The Big Bang Theory on CBS.

If you haven't seen it rush to your television sets on Mondays at 8:30 p.m. (or check listings if you don't live in Ontario).

It's a brilliantly devised sitcom, the perfect combination of ridiculousness, wild laughs and nerdy humour. You'll probably recognize the character of Leonard as the same guy who played Darlene's boyfriend in Roseanne (and she actually makes a few cameo appearances in this show). Leonard is a brilliant physicist who finds himself taken by the hot new girl who moves in across the hall (very a la Friends, but without the gen-x chic feel). Just how does a socially inept science nerd romance his good-looking neighbour? By inviting her to a 97-hour HALO-3 marathon of course.

But my favourite character is Sheldon, the ultimate super-science geek. I've never laughed so hard in my life.

As my friend and fellow Vixen Maggie Robinson has already discussed this week on her blog, April is National Poetry Month. And so I felt inspired to share with you my favourite poem.

It won’t be everyone’s favourite, for it is way too popular and overused for the critics and literary minds of our day. I doubt there’s a school-age child over the age of seven who isn’t already familiar with its rhythm and cadence as repeated in the pinched and nasal tones of Bart Simpson as he echoes “nevermore” to a growingly tormented Homer.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
‘‘Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.’

Whether for good or ill, with its first publication in 1845, Edgar Allan Poe created with The Raven one of the most famous American poems ever written. I think that he would have been quite happy with Bart Simpson’s rendition, and the many other interpretations of his poem over the years, because it was important to him that it be universally appreciable to all—the public and critics alike.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, ‘Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

In the beginning of this dreary evening, this poor guy mourns the death of his beloved Lenore, but he doesn’t really understand death. As the poem progresses though, he starts to question both life and death. The appearance of the ugly bird reflects his inner self trying to reason out his grief, and the raven’s non-answers come from his own subconscious mind. The raven itself was used by Poe probably because of its reputation. For example, in the bible the raven was considered to be an omen of ill fortune, and in Norse mythology, Odin possessed two ravens named Hugin and Munin, representing thought and memory.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

By miscellaneous [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

I love poetry, but sometimes I’ll read something and it’s more of a chore than a joy to experience. I’m as much for symbolism as the next person, but the lengths that some poets can go to couch their prose in hidden innuendo and barely discernable meaning can be more annoying than engaging. Poe himself wrote an essay on the creation of The Raven, entitled “The Philosophy of Composition”, where he likens its composition to a mathematical problem. It starts with a question, begins with ignorance and then develops, revealing answers through discussion and inquiry until the truth can be revealed—whether or not you can accept it.

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven is for me, a most beautiful poem, based on the tragedy of sorrow which comes on the death of love. It embodies the basic dichotomy of death—the desire to forget versus the desire to remember. Of course, there’s more to it than that. The Raven raises questions about the nature of reality compared to our flawed perceptions of it, and is about the evolution of self-knowledge. It is about the relationship that exists—however morbid it may sound—between death and beauty. Poe chose the one topic that was universally understood. Death.

‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.’

Poe builds the tension up higher and higher, but after the climaxing stanza he tears the whole thing back down, letting us know there is no meaning, no moral in the raven’s “nevermore”. It is just the natural, common drive of the human mind toward understanding what is not given to us to understand.

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!


So do you find yourself being drawn to poetry or not? How do you feel about Poe's The Raven? What is your favourite poem and why does it call to you?

My Interview is now up at Manic Readers.
Find it here: (J.K Coi Interview)





________________________________

The story I've been working on these last few weeks is almost finished! When it's done, it should be about 23,000 words, which is a perfect length for a novella. I'm excited for three reasons: because I love when a plot comes together, because the characters have become so dear to me, and because it means that soon I'll be going back to my Immortals to tell Alric's story.

This novella (no title still) was something I started writing on the fly just because I needed a break from the Immortals--Part of me hates to say that because I love them so much, but it's been almost two and a half years non-stop of writing their stories. So this new story was supposed to be fun and light-hearted and just long enough to jump start my creative juices again, since I'd been feeling a little overwhelmed and tired.

If I was so tired, you'd think I would have just turned off the computer for a few days, or a few weeks even, right? But no, I'm not really wired that way. I can't just turn it all off. Even if I'm blocked in one project, I always have three or four other things ruminating down somewhere in the dark corners of my brain, and this was a chance for me to let one of them come up into the light. And I'm so glad that I did.

What I really needed was just to change focus and take the attention away from the thing that was causing my block. I think that the mental process of working on something that was flowing more smoothly and felt good, will help me to approach Alric's book again with a fresh perspective and a little more confidence.

Now that the novella is almost finished, I really like how it turned out. It's not as light-hearted as I originally set out to write it--I don't think I can do comedy. But Sarah is a fabulously sarcastic creature and Dorian just makes you want to drool over the keyboard. I hope everyone will love these two as much as I do, and I'm glad I took the time to tell their story (I'm already thinking of a sequel, LOL).

In the meantime, please come review my Author's Page at Manic Readers (J.K Coi at ManicReaders.com), and look there soon for my interview with them.

In honour of a long-held tradition of trickery and pranks, I'm letting you in on some of the most successful April Fool's Day jokes played in past years:

The Taco Liberty Bell
In 1996 the Taco Bell Corporation announced that it had bought the Liberty Bell and was renaming it the Taco Liberty Bell. Hundreds of outraged citizens called the National Historic Park in Philadelphia where the bell was housed to express their anger. Their nerves were only calmed when Taco Bell revealed, a few hours later, that it was all a practical joke. The best line of the day came when White House press secretary Mike McCurry was asked about the sale. Thinking on his feet, he responded that the Lincoln Memorial had also been sold. It would now be known as the Ford Lincoln Mercury Memorial.

The Sydney Iceberg
On April 1, 1978 a barge appeared in Sydney Harbor towing a giant iceberg. Sydneysiders were expecting it. Dick Smith, a local adventurer and millionaire businessman (owner of Dick Smith's Foods), had been loudly promoting his scheme to tow an iceberg from Antarctica for quite some time. Now he had apparently succeeded. He said that he was going to carve the berg into small ice cubes, which he would sell to the public for ten cents each. These well-traveled cubes, fresh from the pure waters of Antarctica, were promised to improve the flavor of any drink they cooled. Slowly the iceberg made its way into the harbor. Local radio stations provided excited blow-by-blow coverage of the scene. Only when the berg was well into the harbor was its secret revealed. It started to rain, and the firefighting foam and shaving cream that the berg was really made of washed away, uncovering the white plastic sheets beneath.

The Left-Handed Whopper
In 1998 Burger King published a full page advertisement in USA Today announcing the introduction of a new item to their menu: a "Left-Handed Whopper" specially designed for the 32 million left-handed Americans. According to the advertisement, the new whopper included the same ingredients as the original Whopper (lettuce, tomato, hamburger patty, etc.), but all the condiments were rotated 180 degrees for the benefit of their left-handed customers. The following day Burger King issued a follow-up release revealing that although the Left-Handed Whopper was a hoax, thousands of customers had gone into restaurants to request the new sandwich. Simultaneously, according to the press release, "many others requested their own 'right handed' version."

15th Annual New York City April Fool’s Day Parade
In 2000 a news release was sent to the media stating that the 15th annual New York City April Fool's Day Parade was scheduled to begin at noon on 59th Street and would proceed down to Fifth Avenue. According to the release, floats in the parade would include a "Beat 'em, Bust 'em, Book 'em" float created by the New York, Los Angeles, and Seattle police departments. This float would portray "themes of brutality, corruption and incompetence." A "Where's Mars?" float, reportedly built at a cost of $10 billion, would portray missed Mars missions. Finally, the "Atlanta Braves Baseball Tribute to Racism" float would feature John Rocker who would be "spewing racial epithets at the crowd." CNN and the Fox affiliate WNYW sent television news crews to cover the parade. They arrived at 59th Street at noon only to discover that there was no sign of a parade, at which point the reporters realized they had been hoaxed. The prank was the handiwork of Joey Skaggs, an experienced hoaxer. Skaggs had been issuing press releases advertising the nonexistent parade every April Fool's Day since 1986.

Anyone else have some interesting and funny April Fool's Day jokes to share?

*Stories found at The Museum of Hoaxes

Meet Sarah, my newest character. She came banging on the doors of my mind these last few days, demanding that I tell her story, so I've decided to give you a little peek into her world:

I thought I would be an accountant when I grew up. I could even maybe see myself doing something a little more adventurous like pushing paper at a law firm. Never once in all my childhood imaginings did I dream that I would become Buffy the daemon slayer.
Ah, yeah, that was daemon, not vampire. No vampires in my neck of the woods. Thank God, because come to think of it, if there were, I’d probably be stuck hunting them down too. Thank goodness for small favors I guess. I’ve got enough on my plate lately as it is dealing with the mangy hell beasts that come through the gateway.

And no, my name’s not really Buffy. Again, thank goodness for small favors. It’s Sarah. Plain old Sarah, who should have been a plain old accountant. But fate can be a funny thing. Okay, I’m leaning more towards lousy. Fate can be a damn lousy thing.

Take tonight for instance. It’s really not my night. Actually, night isn’t much my thing at the best of times, I tend to pass out around nine if given half the chance. Another reason why I’m really itching for that accounting software.

But since I came into this fateful occupation just a month ago, I’ve been forced to assume perma night owl status. I spend my time from dusk to dawn prowling the darkest corners of Toronto, not in search of the next happening club, which is what I should be doing at twenty-three years old, but on the hunt for daemons.

I feel no bitterness about that. Really.

It sounds ridiculous. Unbelievable. I know, because that’s exactly what I thought myself when I was attacked by one of these things on my way home from school last month and ended up stuck with the job of killing them.


*Art by Amanda Prue www.amandaprue.com

The release date for My Immortal looms closer and closer, and so starts the necessary rounds of promotional "appearances". At least I don't have to leave my computer, and neither do you!!

Join me at Romance At Heart Magazine and read my very first interview. J.K.Coi Interview

Let me know how you like it, and I'm happy to answer more questions, just post them here for me!

Isn't it purty?!



Please come and visit my website at jkcoi.com for more information about Book Two in the Immortals Series, coming July 15, 2008 from Linden Bay Romance!

So, I haven't a clue what I'm doing when it comes to things like web design, and online promotions and marketing. I barely knew what it meant to blog until recently. (I never really considered my odd and far between posts here as blogging, more like pointless ranting into cyperspace because nobody else really reads this, LOL)

I really just want to write.

But the flurry of activity around me recently has succeeded in wearing me down and I now have a MySpace page (J.K.Coi) (oh the horrors). And I'm on Facebook (not as bad). Hopefully, you've already seen the website (A thing of beauty-Thank you so much Snorfus)

Okay, then. Friend me please!!

Everyone please join me at the Pleasure Garden Tuesday, February 19, 2008 for my own first post. We'll be chatting about e-books and e-publishing, and I hope for a lively discussion!!

Vauxhall Vixens

Join me at my new group blog-The Vauxhall Vixens!!



Vauxhall Gardens-often called the Pleasure Gardens-was once the place to go for people from all walks and stations of life for entertainment. Vauxhall's amusements boasted a delicious variety, from music and wafer-thin ham, to risque plays and stolen kisses along the Dark Walk. Vauxhall and its entertainments are front and center in many historical novels. And now, some new history is being made!

The Vauxhall Vixens want to create for you a pleasure garden of their own, where all may come and share their unique voices. A group of writers specializing in all genres, determined to have a little fun along the path toward publication, we invite you to join in the journey and enjoy our entertainments.

We're still getting dressed backstage, but we'd love to have you stop by and say hello! http://vauxhallvixens.blogspot.com

It sure does feel official now!



Please come and visit my website at jkcoi.com for more information about Book One in the Immortals Series, coming May 15, 2008 from Linden Bay Romance!

How does being an author affect the way in which I view and interact with the world, the way in which the world looks at me? I’ve been thinking about this for a little while because of the happy-daunting-exciting-terrifying circumstances in which I find myself.

What kind of creature is an author in the eyes of the world? I’ve heard many compare an author to his or her work. I mean, wouldn’t you be surprised to find that your favourite writer of sweet inspirational romances is a whiskey swilling, black leather, motorcycle mama with a tattoo that promises that White Snake is forever? But our own minds can trick us. An author is never so simply a reflection of their work. Their work is but a part of the whole—which includes experiences that aren’t reflected in the book, a wife or husband, children, a nagging mother-in-law, perhaps another job that pays those pesky bills, an unholy passion for shoes, or a troublesome habit they’ve been trying to kick.

When I have ‘met’ other authors—whether it is because they are on tv and Oprah is making them supremely famous in the span of a 10 minute segment, in a book store signing copies of their latest release, or more likely, as an online presence promoting their work—my experience has often been very good. These are fabulous people. Charismatic and friendly and relaxed. I had to wonder how they do it. I can easily imagine how hard it is.

How do you go from working day in and day out at a job that is unarguably one of the most solitary endeavours known to man, and then magically become a social butterfly when called upon? Whether you are writing for publication or not, the act of writing is a very private thing that comes from deep inside, and those words are hard to share in any other way than on the white page. I’ve known many authors who have said that their writing is their social expression, and they find it hard to communicate as effectively in person—they are tongue-tied in public, shy, withdrawn.

But in the world of publication, an author cannot avoid the task of marketing if they want their books to sell. And so he or she must venture out of that safety zone. Out of the place that they know—their own mind, LOL. There are of course, many authors that don’t have this problem and I wish they would write a book on that. But for the others—those who sometimes have difficulty going to a public venue where they may have to stand and say something to a group, or who find themselves meeting more and more people online as they try and promote their work—overcoming the anxiety becomes a task just as daunting as completing that first novel, or waiting expectantly for that first rejection letter.

It takes a lot of work to go against something so ingrained, and you’ve really got to hand it to the authors in this business today. Internet has made things so very different than it used to be—an online presence is almost a physical thing, much more so than the odd book signing. In many ways it’s more intimidating and scary—a blog interview can reach thousands and thousands of people in the blink of an eye across the entire world. But at the same time promotion online can also be so much easier. You can technically keep your writing hat on since it is still only your words that people are seeing (and maybe a very nice back cover photograph that has been digitally shopped to get rid of that pesky pimple that showed up just in time for the photo shoot).

So what has gotten me started thinking of all of this? Well, my happy news is that my Immortals series has been picked up by Linden Bay Romance and the first book, My Immortal will be available in May, 2008!!

Come along for the ride with me!

I need all of your support in this brand new journey. I need your help to venture from my world of bold, tormented Immortals, brave, feisty women and evil demons, for long enough to tell you all about them!

J.K. Coi
Immortals to die for

I DID IT!! I DID IT!! I DID IT!!




As of November 29, 2007 at 12:00 a.m. in the freakin' morning...
I have written 50,215 amazing, beautiful words!

Thanks everyone for your tremendous support and encouragement and interest. I feel like I should be holding a really heavy gold-plated award while I write this (I did NaNoWriMo and all I got was this stupid t-shirt), but it's true that I couldn't have done it without all of you, my family and friends...

Especially my husband and my son, who have been amazingly understanding of my need to do this even though it meant they haven't seen me in weeks, and even though I've gotten crankier and crankier as the words got harder and harder to write. During this last week, my son had gotten fond of saying: "Mommy it's okay, you keep working. I'll see you next year." (he's only five and he thinks tomorrow is next year, but it didn't make it any easier to hear!)

And my poor husband has had it the hardest during my absence this month, having to pick up all the slack with the house, flooding basements, an acre's worth of leaves to rake in the yard, birds in the chimney, running all the errands, taking the kid to hockey and swimming and doing homework and tons more...and I love him so much!!!!

To everyone who has had to listen to me ramble on and on and on about this character or that one, or the holes in my manuscript that kept driving me crazy...thankyou--and I'm so sorry. I'll call in a day or two (after I get some sleep) and I won't mention the book at all, I promise. Okay, maybe just to--No, I won't. Not at all. Unless you want to hear about it, but then only if you ask...or I ask you and you say it's okay. :)

I want to also say thankyou to my friends the Vanettes--a group of fabulous, talented writers who have taken me under their wing so to speak in this last year, and who have all shown me so much support and encouragement in the constant development of my writing. Without them, I don't think I would have ever tried this in the first place.

My coworkers have been really supportive too--at least those who know what the hell I was doing this last month. It's kind of funny really (although I may not think so when this new rep of mine is still hangin' round my neck in another year), but since I'm pretty new in the office, not many people know me, or know what I do 'on the side'--so after this month they are all positive that I'm a crazy anti-social madwoman who's probably been playing Halo3 on that laptop in the mornings before work and at lunchtime. :)

Anyway, celebrate with me. I'll be on cloud nine...starting tomorrow. Right now I'm going to bed. :)

You may have noticed that I've been pretty busy, and if you've read this blog before, if you've been unlucky enough to talk to me on the phone, or via email or in a post somewhere else online--basically if you've spoken two words to me in any format at all within the last six weeks--then you already know the reason.

I'm in NaNoWriMo mode. And my god has it been hard!!

When I started this I thought--how bad can this really be? I write every day as it is, so this will just be a few more hundred words on my daily count, right? *snort*

Okay, I was wrong. And it wasn't the first time believe it or not.

The difference is in how you write for Nano. The challenge is not only to get the required wordcount by the end of the month, but also to have a completed novel by then. Which means you have to "keep moving forward" (I'm stealing from Walt Disney here folks).

There's no editing in Nano. There's no going back to fix. There's no layering. There's only crappy, incohesive, incomprehensible writing.

Now, I've learned in the last few days that I can be okay with that. But at about the halfway mark when I saw what was coming out of my brain onto the screen I wanted to cry and scream and go back and erase the whole lot of it. How can I work like this, I thought. I'm very methodical usually, and it was killing me to see all of the glaring holes and problems with the storyline and not have the time to fiddle with it and fix it.

But I realize that after Nano is done, the fixing will come later. That's the whole idea isn't it? To at least get a first draft of something down. To prove that you can take an idea from start to finish (no matter how terrible it is). The fixing can come later, after the rush and exhileration of having actually met that goal fades and you get back to real life.

For anyone who's interested, you're very welcome to visit my page at the NaNoWriMo website to track my progress. So far I'm not doing to badly, but I could use all the support I can get.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/user/208090

See you at the finish line!

It's almost that time my friends, NaNoWriMo will begin in just three more weeks. :)

What is NaNoWriMo? You mean besides a really awkward word to have to spell?

NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. That's right. There's a month set aside for everything now.

November is the month. Writing is the goal. A Novel. In 30 DAYS!

Actually, the goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Technically, in publishing terms, this would be more of a novella than a full length novel, but it doesn't make it any less daunting or intimidating, at least to me, since I've never done this before.

But I've been expanding my horizons these days. No longer do I simply write within the cozy comfortable confines of my own home, to remain secure and safe in ignorance of the real writing world.

I have torn that gauzy veil from my face and sent out query letters and partials of my work to agents and publishers. I have joined a formal writer's group that meets every month, taken a bunch of writing workshops to hone my skills, and I have gotten myself a critique partner who is fabulous, not only as a writer and editor of my work, but as a new friend.

NaNoWriMo is just another of these daring adventures. Because of the short time frame alloted, I'm thankful that the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity.

Quality be damned.

At the same time, this will force me to lower my usually high expectations, to take risks that I wouldn't normally, and write without editing. Honestly, that's going to be the hardest part. I'm that person. The one who will write a page and go over it. Write another page, go over it.

I think I'll be writing a lot of crap.

I'm getting nervous already. Just thinking about it!

I don't even have a story mapped out yet!

There's a niggly little idea floating around in my head, though and I think I'll use the rest of October to flesh it out so that I can draw up a bit of an outline.

It is very intimidating to think that I will commit myself to this challenge. I had to make sure to ask my family first if they were going to be okay with it, since my husband won't have a wife, and my son won't have a mother, for a month. I won't be watching House or Bones or CSI. I won't be going shopping, or attending family functions. I won't be helping to rake all of the leaves that are starting to litter my yard (oh darn!).

I love my family so much. They completely understand and still want me to go for it. I can't believe how supportive they always are.

I will draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other writers will be going through the same thing. The same trials and challenges as they work to write the "Great Frantic Novel" (in the words of the NaNo moderators). There will be support groups for me, people to meet from my area who are taking the challenge as well, and a big celebration at the end.

In 2006, there were apparently over 79,000 participants, with almost 13,000 of them crossing the 50k finish line by the deadline. This year, I plan to be one of them.

Wish me luck!!

Most of the time I’m a million miles away from wherever I am supposed to be, which can become dangerous to my career when I’m on a deadline (just kidding, I can focus when I have to...really) and dangerous to my health if my mother’s been trying to reach me.

Well today I wanted to explain a little bit about why that is. About my passion. Of course, you probably think that passion is chocolate or shopping. Sexy Italian men who do dishes? Writing you say?

Well it’s not. Funny huh?

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing, and the process satisfies me about as much as that bar of chocolate or something else that my sexy Italian man does for me other than the dishes :)

But while my passion comes as part and parcel with the writing process, the real draw is not the formal practise of putting words to paper, but the visceral impact of those words on my life, and the lives of others.

My passion is in the act of creating something that has a voice, a vision, something that will leave a lasting impression.

In exploring this craving, I started long ago by studying a more traditional and obvious medium, and so took paint and brush to canvas, attempting to turn the ultimate intimidating blank white page into something more, something real and alive with feeling and energy. I studied the great masters (whew those coffee table books get heavy), and painted for a lot of years. I do still enjoy pulling out those art supplies on a lazy Saturday afternoon when the house happens to be empty and I have the time and quiet that I need to focus my efforts on it. But painting was something that got less and less practical as my life started to get more and more complex, and while my passion still lived inside of me, raging for a release, I found it less and less satisfying because the process had become very frustrating.

I started writing when I found that I had made one too many excuses not to pull out my paintbrushes. The supplies were either too difficult to clean up afterward, the paint took too long to dry for me to get any quality work done in the time I had allotted per week, or my workspace was too small and dismal, having been stashed away in a corner of the basement. Whatever it was, and I don’t really want to analyze my disenchantment with something that I did once love wholeheartedly, I still needed an outlet for the swirling vortex that was growing and churning inside of my brain.

It turned out that I could take those eddies of colour and crazy dreams and twist them into some semblance of coherent thought (at least I think so, those of you who have read my work may disagree  ).

So whether I’m dreaming in coloured splotches of oil paint, or black printer toner on laser paper, the end result is thankfully the same...for me at least. My reviewers may actually prefer paintings of poppy fields to gripping tales of altered universes.

It's been a super crazy kind of summer, with everything from emergency trips to the hospital for stitches in obscure areas of the body (You don't really want to know, and my husband would kill me, since he's the one with the stitches), to camping trips, weddings, showers, birthdays and BBQs.

Whew.

I have always associated Fall with new beginnings. I know, it sounds pretty backwards when you consider that Springtime is when the long winter gives way to fresh flowers, refreshing rains, and new births throughout all of the animal kingdom. But maybe it has something to do with my childhood, and that first day of school that always brought with it new clothes and a great backpack, a new classroom and the meeting of future great friends.

It has of course been a R E A L L Y long time since I've been a student, even though I like to think that I'm constantly learning and upgrading my skills, but this year I still feel the same, that feeling of newness that September brings. Part of it is because my husband is a teacher, and so he's always going back to school every September after kicking back for the summer. My son is also back at school. This is his second year now, and he's going to Senior Kindergarten--it's way too cute to watch him set aside his clothes the night before, and put his things in his Spiderman backpack.

But also this year, I have a new beginning--no I didn't go back to school. I started a new job. That comes with all of those things that you usually associate with beginnings and change--uncertainty, expectation, and a great big hunk of nerves crystallizing in your belly.

I think the job is going to be good. Training is a bitch, being as it is held at head office, which is a good two hours drive for me, but when I get back to my own office afterward and start to get settled in, I think that I'll enjoy the opportunities that come with a new office, new people, and a different challenge.

So for now, I'm off. I have training to do, and people to meet. Talk soon.

Okay, so Canada didn't do so well in the U20 World Cup this year, but that last game against the Congo was a good one. Even though Canada lost in the end, I think that if the team had played that well against Chile and Austria, they would definitely have won at least one of those games, and bettered their overall chances.

Hubby and I went with some friends to the U.S./Uruguay game on Wednesday this week. Seven of us bundled into a minivan to head into Toronto, and though I'm way past the age where that kind of trip would be comfortable, the convenience of inter-car televisions is definitely a blessing, especially in rush hour traffic on the 401.

This was a great game! You have to visualize the scene. It was our first time at the new National Soccer Stadium in Toronto, the weather was cool but clear, and the energy all around us was palpable. The stadium was sold out, and the stands were packed with fans, not only for U.S.A. and Uruguay, but fans decked out in colours representing all teams: Brazil, Chile, Spain, Mexico, Portugal, and even for teams not represented in these games like Germany, Italy and others, all served to create a cultural rainbow of excitement. Fans all around us stomped their feet and yelled for their favourite players, and the huge big screen was great for watching replays, but it wasn't really necessary, since every seat in the house was a great seat, which allowed everyone to watch all the action.

After the U.S.'s win in overtime, we swarmed out of the stadium with thousands of others, everyone happy and friendly and enjoying the adrenaline from the soccer high. One of our own bore his Brazilian colours proudly and we took pictures with another group of fans decked out in the distinctive colours of yellow and green, then carried our Canadian, Brazilian and Romanian flags down the streets of Toronto to an energetic bar for drinks.

All in all, it was a great night of soccer, laughter and comraderie with friends, and I admit I was way too tired the next day. I should have taken Thursday off of work to stay home and sleep!!

Wow, getting logged on here took up about twenty minutes of my time, and I'd only given myself ten minutes for blogging to begin with!! Oh, the joys of the electronic age :)

Well, now that my nerves are completely shot, I'm not even sure what it is I wanted to say anymore.

There's been so much happening lately that I can't even begin to start. School's almost done now that summer is fast approaching and hubby is busy trying to get exams ready. Our son is starting to wonder why this is "the last week of school". He says he doesn't know everything yet, and it can't be finished. How to tell a 4-year old that he'll go back in a few months, that's going to seem like years to him.

I don't think I mentioned yet that...

I WON!!

My book took first place in the Get the Lead Out 2007 literary competition up in North Bay this past May! It was a lovely weekend conference, full of great advice from guest authors, and wonderful people to meet who are all in the same boat as me--writing, writing, writing.

I've just completed final edits for the book, and it has now been sent out to be reviewed by an agent. So now we play the waiting game and see what happens.

But, enough about history, let's talk about what's really important: SOCCER!!

We enter the time of the year that our family loves best, summertime. The time when the weather is warm, the trees are green, and the soccer is exciting.

This year Canada is hosting the FIFA U20 World Cup Soccer finals in Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Edmonton, Burnaby, and Victoria. This is a big deal for players under the age of 20 who will from countries all over the world to compete, and since we're a big soccer family (having 2 out of 3 members playing all summer long), we'll not only be watching the games on TV, but will be lucky enough to get to see a semi-finals game in Toronto in July.

Traditionally, we have been a solid fan of the Italian teams, but alas, Italy will not be represented in these games, and that makes life so much simpler for us this summer, because we will be cheering guilt-free for our homeland, Canada.

The new home to Canada's national teams is the National Soccer Stadium at Exhibition Place, which hosted its first official international on Friday, May 11, and the FIFA U-20 World Cup hosts were only just edged out 2-1 in the dying seconds by Argentina in a pulse-pounding friendly.

This season's crop of Canadian players look tough to break down. Strong players with lots of experience and a strong coach, Canada could surprise many of the more traditional powers with the aid of familiar fields and what are bound to be energetic and boisterous crowds.

So, who else is following the tournament in Canada this year? It doesn't necessarily have the prestige of a Euro Cup or the World Cup to be held in South Africa in 2010, but for us, the benefit of games being held here in Canada is a great draw, and we'll gladly follow them to the very end.

Vive le Canada!!

Here in Canada, the first big sign that summer is almost here comes with the Victoria Day long weekend. Traditionally, it signifies a country-wide sigh of relief that the days of snow to your waist, biting winds and scraping ice of the car windows is past, at least for a few precious months. It is also like a big housewarming party to summer, full of BBQ chicken, sipping beer on the deck and watching the kids splashing in the sprinkler.

This year, I will spend it in at the annual Get the Lead Out Writers Conference. It's my very first writers conference, and while it is bittersweet because I will be away from my family and friends, and without any BBQ at all, I am still very excited.

I've spent the last year working on my first book, tapping away at the computer endlessly to get it done, then editing and polishing it up, working on the synopsis, and finally submitting it to two major literary award competitions, one of them being this Get the Lead Out competition--all in preparation for the real challenge-publishing. It's been a lot of work, so much more than I originally expected, and yet so satisfying at the same time.

I'm not the first to experience the cathartic release of pouring your heart out onto the page, but it really was just that. The experience was also a good part frustration of the tear-your-hair-out-by-the-roots kind, and part learning experience--a very big part. Writing is an art, a craft, a profession, and it takes dedication, perseverance and training.

I think I've got the dedication and perseverance down pat--anyone who can continue to write in between working full time at a busy litigation law firm, raising a four year old, and trying to get in quality time with the hunkiest husband alive, is definitely dedicated.

Ah, but the training, the experience, that's something that doesn't come naturally. Sure, anyone can have the Idea, but for someone like me, without any background, getting the Idea to become reality was the real hard part. I did a lot of reading and research, and then just had to sit down and do it--which I did. The final product was far from perfect, but I went through it again, and again, tweaking it and refining it, adding and taking away, until I was satisfied that it was the best story that I could write.

Having been named a finalist in this competition now feels great, feels like it was all worth it, but the best part is that the people judging my work will be authors themselves, as well as editors, publishers, agents, all in the industry, and all with years of experience that far surpasses my own.

Even if I don't come back home with any awards, I'll take a lot from this experience, most importantly--FEEDBACK. Yes, the judges reading my manuscript will be sending back their own critiques, giving me ideas on how to improve what I've written, and letting me know what they liked. To me, this is going to be an award in itself, the most valuable kind.

So let the long weekend begin. I'm ready--for more than just summer.

I thought, since I have just now finished the excrutiating editing process of finalizing my book, that I would celebrate by sharing a juicy little exceprt with you.

Here it is. This is a point shortly after the two have met, and Rhys is bringing Amy back home:

Rhys walked Amy up the steps of her apartment building, and took note of her name on the mailbox. Apartmnet 2D, Amy Bennett.

She looked at him in the soft lamplight of the building's entrance. God, he really was a beautiful man. Oh, not in any classic sense of the word. He was too large and hard core for that. His shaggy dark hair was still slightly damp, and fell to just past the nape of his neck. His eyes, though they seemed to shimmer strangely like silver in the light, held a softness, a tenderness, that was out of place with his strength and the careful control he held over himself.

She realized then that this evening could have ended a lot differently than with the two of them standing at her front door. He had taken care tonight to see that she wasn't hurt from her insane mad dash into danger, and while she was sure that she had hampered him more than she had helped, he hadn’t lost it on her. If she determined nothing else from the events of this evening, she was confident in concluding that he would never have hurt her.

"Thanks for bringing me home."

"No problem," Rhys replied. He seemed to want to say something more, but didn't.

Amy stared at his mouth, wondering if he would kiss her again. She really wanted him to kiss her again. Deciding this was her night to flirt with danger, she didn’t wait for it, and instead went up on her toes, and smoothed her lips over his.

Jeez, he was so tall, he should be playing for the NBA.

Amy pressed her mouth against him lightly, cautiously, then gasped as he groaned and wrapped his arms around her. He deepened her soft kiss into something more, something carnal and hot, and she tumbled into it, lost in her growing desire.

Her arms clutching him, Rhys backed Amy up until she was pressed against the wall of the building. Amy reveled in the feeling of the sharp stone at her back, and his smooth, hard strength pressing into her from the front. One muscled thigh moved between her legs, pressed up against her, and she gasped as her insides melted in response. His lips were traveling down the smooth column of her neck, along her jaw, licking the sensitive spot at the base of her shoulder blade, while his hand moved to cup one breast, kneading and shaping it to fit his palm, the other tangling itself in her hair, which tumbled loosely over her shoulders.

Rhys was on fire. He had never felt this before, this all-consuming need. He wanted Amy with a desperation that was overriding all the good intentions that he had started out with, wanted to take her as hard and as deep as he possibly could. He had never let his body rule him that way. But right now, he wanted--he needed--to imprint himself on her body, mark her, dominate her. He wanted to possess her and protect her at the same time, to hold himself inside her for an eternity.

It didn’t help his self-control to know that she was just as hot for him. Her raspy little moans and the scent of her excitement beckoned to him like a siren’s summons. It would take nothing for Rhys to overcome her lingering inhibitions, convince her to take him into her bed, and once there, he wouldn't let her out of it again for days.

In fact, what better way to keep an eye on her. He could keep her constantly at his side, and perhaps gain some insight into the source of his dreams.

Whoa, he thought. Constant proximity for women always meant closeness and sharing. No way did he want that complication. He had a job to do that Amy could never understand, and a life that she could never be part of...a dangerous fucked-up life at that. He wouldn’t allow any human to become a part of that, especially not Amy, no matter how much he was drawn to her serene strength and frank humour. She would compromise his very existence if he allowed himself to be distracted by those expressive eyes and lush body.

It would be better for them both if he simply let her retreat into her apartment alone. She would never see him again, and he would move into the future as a whisper of nothingness, a ghost, as he had always been to humans.

But first, he wanted to commit the taste of her to memory.

I feel like I've been running a 10k marathon, and so far I'm not sure whether I'm ahead or behind.

But last night was one of those banner moments, one of those moments you remember for the rest of your life--because I finished the synopsis for my book!

Huh, you're not impressed? I'm ecstatic. I feel like I just passed the last leg of the marathon, now I'm into my seventh km, and the home stretch is upon me.

I can remember the agony of starting the book. When you first set your cushy running shoes on that path and push forward. It's hard going, but then you get into a bit of a zone, and the pavement starts zooming by. Until you get a stitch in your side, or in this case, WRITER'S BLOCK. Oh, the horror of writer's block. It might take a while, and you may have to sit out of the race for a few moments to catch your breath, but then you can start moving again, and that is a good feeling too, knowing that you've conquered the block.

When the book was actually written, I had a glass of wine that day. But oddly enough, despite feeling a little bit of a glow, I wasn't jumping up and down ecstatic. Perhaps it was because I knew that I had only reached the half-way point in my trek. Getting the book ready for publishing was going to take a lot more time, and I'd be huffing and puffing pretty hard by the end of it.

Now that editing is well on its way, I had diverted my attention to the matter of publishing materials. If a person wants to send a manuscript to a publisher for review, there are a lot of RULES. I couldn't believe all the rules. You need to query first, which means you send a short letter of introduction. And depending on the publishing company, they will either respond to request a synopsis of your book, along with a copy of the first few chapters, or they will not. Sometimes, a publisher wants the chapters with your query, sometimes they want a synopsis that is five pages, sometimes eight. Then of course, some won't even look at your query unless it is submitted by an agent.

Oh My God, I thought. How do I get an agent?

We'll just leave that one alone for now.

But finally, the query letters are written, the synopsis is drafted, and this is when I start doing the football happy dance--oh wait, my analogy was running, right? Oh well, never mind.

I am reminded today of relationships...past, future, lasting and fleeting.

I have had occasion recently to reconnect with a number of old friends from high school--eeek. The horrors of remembering a time when I wore faded blue jeans that came up to my shin, bright neon colours, and, if I happened to have actually attended school that day...a uniform. (I know!!)

But more than that, I remember laughter, drama, friendships that seemed they would last forever, life that was glowing and fresh, and a sense of future, of purpose that was wide open and infinite with possibility. It's funny how it all seemed so common and everyday back then, while now I look on it with a profound sense of wonder. Wonder that I was ever so young, that I had so many dreams. Wonder that I ever looked that bad, and wonder that I even made it out alive.

Some of those friends are still with me today. Others, as I mentioned, I have had a chance to reconnect with, and I enjoy learning about their lives and families. I am amazed to find so many people doing exactly what they wanted to do back when we were young and foolish, and others who have gone so far above and beyond their own wildest dreams. Either way, it's always good to see that they're having fun, and living life to the fullest.

I think about how my own goals have changed since I was young. I used to write as if my soul were pouring out on the paper. Poetry, stories, anything to put words down. I have come to determine that the creativity flows best and easiest when you're young. But then I remember wanting to be a doctor, a lawyer, or something equally glamorous. I think that was mainly a result of watching too much tv, though. When I finally made it through high school, and went on to university, and then to college, my goals changed again. And again...and again. Until I was back to the same place I had started--with a love of writing, and trying to see where it would take me.

I think our first loves are often our best. We can't always get that feeling back after it's drifted away, and in most cases, it's best that way. But sometimes our younger selves can teachour older selves a few things. About how to appreciate friendships, follow dreams, and enjoy life.

Let's talk character development today ladies and gents. Why you ask? Because I want to, and it's my blog. :)

But really, it's kind of been on my mind, mostly because, now that I've effectively moved onto my second WIP, with the first book being all but done, I'm very surprised at how very different the characters are in this new book. Granted, the stories are very different as well. Originally, I had thought that, after finishing my first book, I would continue to write paranormals, but I was stunned to find that the next characters to clamour for attention, wanted a story that wasn't like that at all.

Book 1 (we'll call it that for now, since for some reason, it hasn't quite "found" its name yet), is a dark paranormal, complete with immortal warriors charged with the responsibility of protecting mankind from hell's most evil demons. Needless to say, these were some pretty tough and dangerous characters, and we're just talking about the heroes. The main character, Julian, is a 900 year-old soldier in this epic war, and has his own deep emotional scars to prove it. When he meets Amy, the heroine, he finds her fascinating, not only because she's brave (maybe stupidly so), but also because she is like a vibrant burst of sparkling colour in his otherwise dark existence. He fights his powerful attraction to her, but cannot completely put her from his mind, partly because he keeps dreaming that she is in danger, and his dreams have a bad habit of coming true.

Book 2 (and at this point it's being called "Lost", for a number of reasons), is a contemporary romantic tale with a hint of mystery thrown in for good measure. The characters meet and at first are more annoyed with each other than anything else. There are no supernatural forces bringing them together, but a mutual attraction has them eager to explore the possibilities. The hero, Max, is a former cop who now owns a rustic mountain lodge in the volcanic mountains of Oregon. The heroine, Cam, is a writer (fancy that), who has come to town as part of her book tour.

For me, the interesting part of writing Book 1 was bringing characters together who are from extremely different worlds, and who will fight their attraction to each other from the word "go". Even so, for both Julian and Amy, their past becomes the biggest obstacle between them and their happy ever after.

In Lost, Max and Cam aren't drowning in the horrors and guilt of past events. They are both strong, independent people, who weren't necessarily looking for each other, but aren't afraid of being together. But how does love blossom when these two become embroiled in intrigue and murder?

So there you go. Two books. Two couples, and author who is pretty surprised at the turn of events.

Well, I guess you can tell that I haven't been around here much recently. I mean, the last blog was from August or some such nonsense.

Sorry about that.

I can tell you that the passage of time has been both good and...not so good.

We had a number of unfortunate deaths in our family this year, and I miss them all very much. But we also celebrated birthdays, weddings, Christmas, and all those fattening-type holidays, and enjoyed every minute of it all. My sister is now a happy married lady with a little baby on the way, and everyone is looking forward to when he arrives and we find out that the doctor was wrong to tell her it was a girl...just kidding. They don't tell you those kinds of things unless they're sure--right?

Derek started junior kindergarten in the Fall. He loves it so much, and I couldn't be prouder of how well he's doing, how many friends he's made, and how quickly that comment "nothing" starts coming out of his mouth already when I ask him what he did on any particular day.

For those of you who were aware of the fact that I was writing my first novel...ta da!! It's done, finis, and now we enter the dreaded editing phase. Actually, this part I like. It's the time when I get to re-read the book with a lighter frame of mind, not so worried about dreaming up plot strategies. I just get to fine tune minor inconsistencies and enjoy the actual story-imagine that.

The new book is well underway. The first one was more of a "pantser" exercise, meaning I wrote by the seat of my well-worn oversized sweats. But this time I'm trying to be a little bit more methodical, and I've actually got an outline!

Hopefully, I'll make it back here soon. Love

So, with the beginning of August, came not only the end of Carlo's summer teaching schedule and the beginning of his vacation, but also my birthday and our planned trip to go camping with our three year old son. Camping you say? Why not to Italy, to visit fabulous art galleries, majestic cathedrals, having tantalizing gelato and succulent wines? My vote seemed to have been vetoed. We went camping.

Not that it wasn't amazing. I'm still going to bring up the Italy trip again next year (and every year thereafter, until I can browbeat them to go :) )

We decided to go north. We always go north. Every year in May, I get online with our National Parks reservation service and book our camping trip in Algonquin Park. We go there as much as possible. The views, the lakes, the wildlife, are all truly beautiful and worth every second of the four hour drive in weekend bumper-to-bumper traffic to get there...really.

This year, like clock work, I logged on-only to find that our retreat, our haven in the north, was completely booked. There were no sites available-and I was looking all the way into August for Pete's sake!

So instead of Algonquin Park, we headed up north to a park on Georgian Bay. It was a good choice, still latitudinally the same, still a Provincial Park, still camping, right?

Well, all Camp grounds are not created equal, as with everything else. It was still a quiet camp ground, which is something we really look for. And the water was marvelous, crystal clear, warm and with a fun, sandy beach for playing. Yet, the natural benefits that we had come to cherish in Algonquin Park seemed to be sparse. There was a more definite feel of "human invasion", and very little flora to behold. There were no nature walks and no fish to pull out of the lake.

Still, for our son, it was heaven on earth. He absolutely adored the beach. He loved the fact that he slept in his sleeping bag in a tent, and didn't have to go to bed until it was really dark out, after stuffing his face full of mushy white marshmallows. He also got the undivided attention of his parents and his uncle, who accompanied us this year.

So all in all, while I will still press for Italy next year, we won't be ruling out camping either. For this family, the experience is one to savour as often as possible, and we'll always make the time to go...although we might stick to Algonquin Park, as that's where our hearts seem to be.

It looks like summer is well on its way to having arrived. How do I know this? What is the deciding factor that brings this to my decidedly unfocussed attention?

Our grass needs cutting. Constantly.

Lush green lawns are the bane of society. I know, in the past everything from T.V., cell phones, and spiky hair have been the bane of society in my humble opinion. But really...grass.

You may recall that we have recently moved into a beautiful home in a nice, quiet, older neighbourhood. It's great. I love it. But there's 1/2 an acre of land, and a lot of this consists of lush green lawn. Everyone on the block has the convenient riding lawn mower out at least twice a week to keep the grass nice and short. My husband has also been graced with a riding lawn mower of his own, even though we have a push mower that is almost brand new (bought last year). The riding mower was given as a gift because our friends were getting themselves a new one. The old one, the one sitting in our garage...doesn't work. Hubbie is adamant that he can get it working, and until he does...the grass doesn't get mowed.

So not only are we the "new kids on the block", but now we're also the bad neighbours because our lawn looks more like a meadow, complete with weeds.

I hope and pray that the mower will either be fixed soon, or a kindly arsonist will come along and set it on fire for me...in either case, the lawn will still get mowed eventually. And then I'll have to start baking muffins to take to all the neighbours.