Thankful

It's been an eventful week and a half here in Alabama. First, my friend Beverly Barton died. And then we got slammed with severe weather that has left over 200 dead and wiped out entire towns. I can't even begin to comprehend the extent of the damage. Though my house is fine, and all my family and friends are fine too, I had no power for 4 days. I lost all the contents of my refrigerator — not a big deal in the scheme of things. In the days immediately after the power went out, we had no cell phone service. That came back slowly.

The morning after the tornadoes, our local grocery store was one of only a very small number to open. It was crowded with people getting the kind of food they could eat for days without power. Fortunately, I have a camp stove (actually a Korean stove that uses butane) and was able to heat food. Gasoline was an issue too. Without power, the pumps don't work, so there was panic over gas. We had one car that was full. The other needed gas (lesson learned: always fill up when they say severe weather is coming).

But we've made it through, our power is on again, and life seems somewhat normal in Chez Harris. And yet it isn't really. We are lucky enough to be in the 30% that have power right now. Most of Madison County still does not. Hubby went to work today only to have to come home again because there's no power.

Minor, minor inconveniences when there are people who have lost everything. If you want to help, you can donate to organizations like the Red Cross. Text 90999 and $10 will be added to your mobile phone bill. Or just go and donate online, or get the address for where to send a check.

Finally, though it's surreal to say this, I also have to let you, my readers, know that if you've been wanting to read Prince Voronov's Virgin, you can order it now through eHarlequin. It's available a month early in both print and ebook.

I hope you are safe and well in your corner of the world. Best to you all!

Stop all the clocks

I didn't want to write this post today. I didn't want to write it at all. But I have to write it because there is a hole where a friend used to be.

On Thursday, April 21, 2011, we lost a great writer and a wonderful lady. Beverly Barton was everything that everyone has been saying on their blogs, memorials, and tribute pages. She was warm, witty, funny, sweet, kind — I could keep going, but I won't. Just know that she was a true Southern lady with a load of class and sass.

I first met Beverly when I joined Heart of Dixie a few years ago. Might be 4, might be 5 — can't quite remember. She was one of the first people to welcome me to the group. She was a star, yet she took time to come over and talk to me for several minutes and welcome me. She seemed truly excited that I was there, and I have never forgotten how good that made me feel. I knew right away that I was going to love HOD.

In the years since, I've come to know Beverly as a friend. There are others who were closer, but it was Beverly's gift to make everyone feel as if they were special to her. Therefore, we all hurt with her loss.

Beverly was a true diva, but only in the good sense of the word. She was larger than life. She was classy. She loved her family above anything else. She doted on her grandchildren. She wrote the scariest damn books in the world. She believed in graciousness. She used cloth napkins and real china because to use paper plates and napkins would be an abomination. She was an amazing storyteller, whether the story was written or just told as you sat around and listened to her.

She did not like to be called Bev. Not ever. Her friends knew better. She was Beverly. She had the most amazing and infectious laugh. She loved sparkly jewelry and always wore the most gorgeous pieces that were color coordinated with her outfit.

I never, ever saw Beverly looking anything other than fabulous. And I have spent weekends with her at our chapter retreat where it would have been entirely understandable to see her less than put together. While I stumbled to the breakfast table with bedhead and no makeup, Beverly at least had makeup on and her hair done.

In digging through my photos, I found this one of Beverly and me at our chapter Christmas party a couple of years ago. We were both highly amused by the fact that she'd worn green and I'd worn red — and our shoes matched our sweaters.

When I sold my first book, Beverly was thrilled for me. I never expected her to read it. But she did. And when she told me how much she loved it, I was in shock. I know she wasn't just telling me that to make me feel good. Beverly would have never done such a thing. I was and still am honored by her belief in me.

There is a scene in the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral where one of the characters, Gareth, has died. At his funeral, his partner, Matthew, reads a poem by W.H. Auden called “Funeral Blues.” It's a sad moment, but the reading of the poem is so beautiful. When I heard that Beverly had passed, I immediately thought of Auden's mournful tribute.

I can't say it better, so I'll leave you with the poem. Rest in peace, Beverly. You are missed by so many.

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Dear Snooki

I know who you are because you are because you seem to pop up in entertainment news and celebrity gossip quite a lot. I also know that you are a very, very tanned person. So when I read in an article recently that you would never have plastic surgery because you are afraid of needles and anesthetic, I had to shake my head sadly.

Here's the thing, my dear. You are young, in your 20s I think, and so all that tanned skin is quite supple and tight right now. But you just wait. When you hit 35, 40 if you're lucky, you may start to think differently about surgery. Because tanned skin is damaged skin. The only way the skin can react to UV damage is to brown. As brown as you are, that's a whole lot of damage to those delicate cells. It's going to sag, trust me. I've seen it in my tanned friends who looked awesome at 20, and then looked like they were over 50 when they were barely 40.

Your skin is going to sag when the collagen fibers stop doing the job of holding it up, and you may be looking at plastic surgery in a whole new light then.

On the other hand, there's another danger of which you seem either blissfully unaware or you think it won't or can't happen to you. Skin cancer. Tanning beds concentrate the UV light, and more and more younger people are presenting with skin cancers these days. You are dark skinned and have dark eyes and dark hair, but that's not a guarantee, especially the more you subject your skin to intense UV light. It's not just the tanning beds, of course. Sun exposure does the same thing.

And if you do get skin cancer, guess what? Surgery. If you get the worst kind there is, melanoma, the surgeon will need to take margins. You will probably be knocked out for this surgery, though not always. There are definitely needles involved.

Either way, Snooki dear, I think surgery is in your future. I'm sorry you're afraid of needles and anesthetic, but I think you need to realize that if you continue the way you're going, surgery will become a distinct possibility at some point. The damage is already done, considering how brown you are, but I do hope you will think twice about so much tanning. Taking care of your skin now could lessen the impact of the damage. Besides, with your money, can't you afford a really great spray tan?

Snowmageddon in Alabama

These pictures were taken a while ago now (Sunday night), but it was up to about 4 inches the last time I looked out the window — and still coming down. And while I know this cracks up the Yankees, it really does cripple the South when this happens. I do know how to drive in snow, having learned when I lived in Germany, but it's not so much the driving that does it. (Though that's part of it because most of these people have no training.)

It's the lack of snow removal equipment and proper tools for melting ice. They sand the bridges around here, which is just nuts. I don't know why they don't have a supply of salt or urea on hand, but they don't. Or maybe they salt/urea the heavily traveled areas and sand the side roads. Whatever, all I know is the last time they sanded the bridges, it was a joke.

We're expecting up to 10 inches they say. And that really is quite amazing for us. I just hope it melts really quick. Otherwise, we will be stuck in our houses for days. Schools are canceled, no work for Hubby, the city is shut down, and my Mojo Lunch with Kimberly Lang is postponed. This, dear friends, is a tragedy! We were going to the yummiest little bistro, darn it. Hopefully, we'll get to go later this week!

I think the snow is pretty, but I wish it would go away. It's not like in Germany where the snow came down and life kept on going anyway. No, here we're stuck. No lunches out, no runs to the post office, no impromptu shopping trips. No visiting with friends, unless they live next door and you can walk. I could walk to Kimberly's house, but it's a bit farther than next door and I'm not doing it. She's not coming here either. 😉 Lunch is postponed for sure.

I suppose I'll start work on the next book! It's due in a couple of months, and I already have a great idea that's really making me think about it all the time. I have the hero and heroine, their core problem, and I'm really excited about it. I love it when that happens, when the idea takes over and begins to really speak to me. It doesn't mean the book will be easy to write, but I have hope it will come to me easier than others have.

And now I'm going to go bundle up and read for a while. It's cold, the snow is coming down, and I'm not going anywhere for a while. 🙂 Hope you are safe and warm in your corner of the world, that you aren't snowed in, and that you've got a fabulous book to read and/or write!

UPDATE: Morning pictures of the snow!


Keeping it together

Wow, she's back again! Yep, somehow I've managed to come back again when I'm pushing hard toward deadline — maybe it's because writing so much requires an outlet of unrelated writing. I don't know.

But I was thinking today, as I was rereading a portion of the WIP to remember where I was and what I was doing, about how easy it would be to let all those writerly fears and doubts crash down on top of me and grind me to a halt. I've certainly done it in the past, when I had no date set in stone on a legally binding document that I signed. I've let the doubt and uncertainty stop me and send me off into self-pitying mental gymnastics where I wondered if I would ever be published.

You might think, once you're published, that these doubts and fears go away. They do not, unfortunately. That fear will probably always be there.

Another thing I do when I get slammed with work is compare my career to others. Never a good idea, I assure you. We know we shouldn't do it, and yet we do. So-and-so writes six books a year, or so-and-so makes it look so easy, etc. If so-and-so were writing this book, she'd be done already and it'd be brilliant!

What's really bad is when you start thinking that someone has it better than you do, not only career wise, but life wise. A big house, a fancy car, lots of friends. But you don't really know what goes on behind the scenes of Jane Author's successful and fabulous life. Maybe she's lonely, or maybe her fears are as big as yours. Maybe the perfect looking life is a shield she wears that hides the truth. Maybe her life is every bit as crazy as yours, and maybe she wishes she could be you.

You just never know. Which is why you must learn to keep it together when these fears and doubts assail you. You have to look at what you DO have and know that it's good. My life isn't your life isn't Jane Author's life. I think it's very normal for women to do this sort of comparison. And we have to learn to stop ourselves when it happens. Because the life you have is full of blessings and richness. You just have to stop and take a good look sometimes.

Keep it together, y'all. Keep it real. You are you, and that's a mighty fine thing to be. 🙂

The Labyrinth Experience

As a writer, I often daydream. Sometimes, I daydream at the computer when the words aren't flowing and I need to figure out what happens next. Sometimes, I take a shower and the thoughts just start to happen. Getting unstuck, finding a new path, whatever I need, often happens when I take that mental break and stop trying to force things to happen. I've even had breakthroughs on the treadmill while making deals with myself that I'll get to that next mile mark. Whatever it takes.

But on Saturday, I found a new place to think. My RWA chapter went on a field trip where we learned about labyrinths. After the presentation, we walked a labyrinth. It's not as complicated as you might think. Labyrinths can be quite simple. They aren't mazes, first of all. There is one path in and one path out and you walk the path with a clear site of the center. There are no tall hedges to get lost in.

I was surprised at how simple the labyrinth looked. We walked one that was patterned after the one here, which is a medieval labyrinth. Specifically, this is the one that's in the Chartres Cathedral in France. The path we walked was grassy, with bricks to mark out the way. It's meant to be walked barefoot, though as our teacher stressed, there is no right or wrong way to do it. I walked in wearing shoes, then took them off for the walk out.

And it was different each time. It's a surprising experience, in fact. Our group of writers, who are normally quite boisterous and talkative, got very meditative as we walked. I found that I was a bit bored and distracted at first. And then I had a moment where a recent painful memory crashed in on me and had me on the verge of tears. It was surprising how it came out of nowhere when I wasn't expecting it. Then the memory went away and the knowledge that things happen as they are meant to happen gave me comfort.

Then I settled into the experience and started to think of many things. I can't even remember everything, though some of it was writing oriented. As I got closer to the center, I felt calmer. And then I was in the center, watching others walk the path, and feeling very peaceful and content. When I was finally ready to leave the center, I took my shoes off and began the walk back out. Oddly, I felt as if I'd left any baggage I was carrying in the center. I felt lighter, relieved in some way.

The farther I went, the less light I felt. It was almost like picking up the worries I'd left behind as I walked out. By the time I got out, I felt the same as when I'd entered. I felt like me, with all the worries and cares and joys that I have. It was a very interesting experience, and it's one I intend to repeat. Because, as our teacher said, each experience in the labyrinth can be different. You won't always get the same thing out of it.

I wouldn't always anticipate having an experience where grief hit me out of the blue. But I definitely see the advantages to working out those thorny plot problems while walking the labyrinth. When I went in this time, I had no expectations, which is why so many things hit me. But if I went in thinking of my plot and characters, I know I would get answers to my questions. Just like standing in the shower or daydreaming on the computer.

I highly recommend the experience if you're looking for a new place to think. You can learn more about labyrinths, including whether there are any in your town, here. If you've ever had the labyrinth experience, what did you think of it?