Tomorrow I’ll be on a romance panel with awesome authors HelenKay Dimon and Tessa Dare at UCI’s Literary Orange. www.literaryorange.org
I know it will be a lot of fun.
Although Fluff and Puff are planning on going with me since they want to meet graphic novelist Stan Sakai who writes about a samurai bunny. Hm, I hope they don’t get any tips! I must keep sharp objects away from them!
And I’m guest blogging at MamaWriters Blog on Saturday about my furry and feathery children. www.mamawriters.com
Have a great weekend!
It happens every so often where the phone rings in the middle of the night. You’re jolted awake, adrenaline pumping, and you instantly think, “what’s wrong?”
That was me last night when the phone rang at 3am. Just the one ring so obviously a wrong number and nothing showed up on Caller ID. But could I go back to sleep? No! Plus Barney got restless and everyone else in the house was still sound asleep. How dare they!
After sucking down a pot of coffee this morning, I remembered one night when the phone rang and rang and rang.
I was in college and my dad was out of the country on business. The phone started ringing around 2am and naturally my mom is afraid it might be something to do with him. Some of this is what she relayed to me after each call.
Mom – “Hello?”
Man’s voice very slurred – “Art’s Landing? I wanna make a reservation.” (Fishing boat rental)
Mom – “You’ve got the wrong number.”
Twenty minutes later, same thing. Fifteen minutes later same thing. Mom would have preferred ignoring the phone, but then you never know and no Caller ID back then.
By the fourth call she was yelling at this guy and you just know it wasn’t sinking in that he wasn’t calling Art’s Landing.
I told her to let me take the next call. Sure enough, it rang a few minutes later.
Me – “Art’s Landing. How can I help you?”
Man, oh yeah, slurred all right -- “Thank God! I’ve been trying to get you all evening. Lady said I had the wrong number.”
Me – “Oh, I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”
Man – “I wanna make a reservation.”
Me – “Of course. For how many?”
Man – “Just me.” And he gave me his name.
Me – “Terrific. Be at the dock at 4:30 sharp.”
Man thanked me and hung up.
And we had peace for the rest of the night!
I wonder if he showed up at the dock that morning.
Did you ever have anything like that?
- Current Mood: bouncy
We had a year old terri/poo, Cocoa, at home and felt he needed company even if I was home all the time. Plus there was a large pair of brown eyes at our local pet shop that had caught me just as Cocoa said “okay, pay Barry and let’s get out of here.” All I knew was that he was an eight-week-old Chihuahua/Yorkie who said “I choose you. Can we go home now?” And we did.
Bogie was so very tiny and our neighbors’ kids volunteered names for him, but I was looking for just the right name. He could basically fit in the palm of my hand and tucked very nicely in my robe’s pocket. Then I realized I had the name: Bogie. No, not the golf term or Humphrey Bogart, but that radar blip that was there yet not there. That was my baby.
Cocoa was mine, but Bogie was my baby. We went through nights of puppy hiccups and tummy aches. Lots of cuddles and walks in the open land we used to have around here. And they both had the distinction of being the only dogs allowed in my friend Susan’s house. Even her own dogs still aren’t allowed in.
Bogie understood that Cocoa had seizures and when Cocoa went to Rainbow Ridge in 1996, Bogie was with us at the vet’s to understand that this time Cocoa wouldn’t be coming home. The same happened in 2003 when our St. Bernard/Lab, Fergie, went to Rainbow Ridge.
I was teased because Bogie felt I was here to carry him around. If we were outside talking to friends and Bogie was with me it wasn’t unusual for him to stand on his hind legs and beg for me to pick him up. That meant he was draped over my shoulder like a baby.
Bogie also had this funny quirk. Whenever he got a treat he hid it. So we’d always find Milkbones and other treats under couch pillows, hidden behind furniture, or pretty much in plain sight. I have to say that quirk taught Fergie how to track since she loved nothing more than hunting down those treats to take for her very own.
Look at Bogie’s Christmas photo. Cute or what? His sweater was knitted for him by a fan that suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. She knitted two sweaters for him and two for Cocoa. This day I remember so well because the photographer asked me to say his name to get his attention because he didn’t look all that happy. I said “Bogie, cookie!” and this is what we got. My handsome guy looking like the happy dog he always was.
He was the one who slept next to me. Who stayed by the back door when I was gone, waiting for me to go home. He’s always been my little shadow. Sadly, as he got older, he took my absences harder. I was told he’d cry at the door until I got back. And the strange thing about it was many times he didn’t start crying until the time I was heading back home. As if he felt I wasn’t driving fast enough.
But Bogie’s age started catching up with him. Back problems and tender hips meant he couldn’t race up and down the stairs any longer. He could climb them, and insisted on it, but I always carried him downstairs. And if he didn’t think he could make it upstairs, he’ll look at me and I’d know he’d want a ride up. Then he started wandering and I looked into his eyes and knew I was losing him.
I bargained with Fate. His 18th birthday was last Christmas Eve. I wanted that for him and he got it. It would be so easy to bargain that Valentine’s Day was coming, St. Patrick’s Day, but it wouldn’t be fair to him and very selfish of me.
Last July a found dog came into my life and when I later found his owner, he was offered to me. From the first day Barney showed up in our front yard family and friends told me he was brought into my life to ease the eventual loss of Bogie.
I don’t know if it made it easier. After all, Bogie and I’ve been together for 18 years, but I do know there’s someone to hug and love and who hugs and loves me back.
Bogie had so much heart. He was a tough little guy and he will never be forgotten. I held him in my arms while he went to sleep for the last time.
Good-bye my baby. Mama will miss you so very very much.
- Current Mood: sad
I used to make them then realized they’d be forgotten all too soon.
I do have goals. I know what I intend to do the coming year for my writing. Such as I have a few new projects in the works and hoping to see them through. My agent and I do the cheerleader bit “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Each other!”
And another goal is walking Barney a few times a week. Yes, it will be good for me and even better for him since I’ve learned that mini Schnauzers are prone to gain weight. He’s gained two pounds since he came to live with us in July and he looks more roly poly now. So we’ll do the walkies.
I’ll also be teaching some writing courses on line which I’ll be talking about more soon.
So what about you? Do you make resolutions and keep them? Make them and not keep them? Or just totally ignore them?
- Current Mood: chipper
Writing is … fun. Writing is … work. Writing is … insane.
Writing is … play.
What is writing? All of the above.
But for me, it’s more a playground. Some fun, some kinda scary, and some nauseating. Remember the merry-go-round you’d push and push until you got so dizzy you feared the worst? That’s writing.
My Hex series is different since there’s a different witch in each book. Although I do bring the previous witches back just because I can’t let them go.
The book I’m working on now, The Best Hex Ever, is a playground of ups and downs. A lot of visits to the slides, swinging high and crawling through the multi-colored tunnels.
Witchy Maggie is a lot like Jazz, but she likes to blow things up more. Since she’s a Guardian for all creatures, she’s there to protect the weak and knock down the nasty. She does it very well too. She’s the fort you explore. Climbing to the top and looking out all sides to see something different. Always something new to find when you’re the adventuresome type.
Declan is a half fire demon that makes me think of the swings. You pump up and down (get your mind out of the gutter!) and your stomach does that whoosh! thing and you’re breathless all the time.
Maggie’s BFNWF (best female not witch friend) Sybil, who’s a calming Fae but also has the teeter-totter attitude in that while you feel relaxed around her anything can happen.
And Snips, Declan’s imp assistant who’s like one of the small animals you’ll ride. He’s so organized he’ll get your to your destination even if your imagination thinks you should be somewhere else.
Let’s add the messenger ferrets for the compound Maggie lives in. Highly caffeinated and mega attitude. They’re more like a nonstop game of tag.
That’s why when I talk about writing, I call it playing. I’m playing with my characters, not writing them.
We’ll have the playground all to ourselves where anything and everything can happen.
Lots of laughter, some tears (luckily, band-aids usually aren’t necessary), a need to stop and catch my breath.
Some days are rainy and gloomy, but the playground is always there with the sun shining. And other days the moon is full and there’s some sexy dancing going on there.
And when the writing goes tough, it’s easier to think of it this way than just slogging through it.
What about you? Do you try to view a task as more play than work to make it go easier?
- Current Mood: cheerful
Laura looked around the room that belonged in a museum then back to the man seated on a high backed chair that she swore resembled a throne. Gorgeous was an understatement where he was concerned. Midnight black hair, cobalt blue eyes and a body made for a centerfold. She reminded herself she was here on business, not to mentally seduce the man who was paying her to design a summerhouse for him.
Linda Wisdom copyright 2009
But it didn't stop her from dreaming, did it? Judging from the smile in his
eyes, he was equally interested.
No so his feline companion. Since she wasn't fond of cats, she had no idea if it
was Persian, Siamese or something else exotic. She only knew the bronze -furred, green-eyed creature looked at her as if Laura belonged in her litter box.
Laura made a mental note to stay out of claw's reach. The cat had draped itself
along the chair arm where Dante could stroke the cat's back in slow strokes that
Laura imagined were trailing across her own skin.
She really must get out more!
"If you don't mind I'd like to look at the area again," she said with a wary
smile in the cat's direction.
"Of course." Dante smiled back.
She rose from her chair and made her escape. She'd barely taken three steps out
of the room when she heard a woman's voice.
"Are you honestly sure you want to use her?" the woman asked.
"She's lovely, don't you think?" Dante said.
"Only if you like them flat-chested and mousy."
Flat-chested and mousy? She was a respectable 34B, thank you very much and had just gotten highlights that cost a small fortune.
Curious, Laura crept back toward the room and peeked around the corner. A tall woman lounged, there was no way you could say she was merely sitting, on the chaise by Dante's throne, uh, chair. Her hair was the same rich bronze shade as the cat's fur. Even her form-fitting silk dress echoed the same luxurious color.
I wonder if she dyes her hair to match the cat, was Laura's catty thought as
she carefully backed away and moved to the rear of the house to finish her work.
When she returned to the room, Dante was alone with only the cat for company.
Laura felt her smile slip. She swore that damn cat smirked at her.
"Did I hear voices?" she said. "If you have company, I can come back another
"No, that's all right," Dante assured her, running his long-fingered hand along
the cat's back. "There is just myself and my cat."
- Current Mood: artistic
November’s here and I’m wondering what happened to October.
That’s easy. I had a month of blog promotion and book signings for Hex in High Heels and I attended the Emerald City Conference where Yasmine and I got to hang out. It was so much fun even as we made faces at each other during the book fair. What can I say? They put our tables facing each other and we couldn’t help ourselves. And this is me at the book fair.
Plus my husband had surgery last week. He’s doing well, but the surgeon discharged him the night after his surgery citing with all the flu he was safer at home. Hm, did he ask me about my nursing skills to make sure I’m not like Nurse Ratched (reference One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest for that one).
Barney is acting like my nurse’s assistant, checking on Bob every so often and Bogie goes in to give him a quick kiss on his hand. Naturally, no dogs allowed on the bed. The man actually thought he could climb the stairs to his own bed. One short walk down the hospital hallway proved that wasn’t to be for awhile. :}
I’m one of these people who are like the Energizer Bunny. I go on and on and on … you get the picture. Then I crash.
And this afternoon, that’s just what I did. I sat at my laptop thinking about what I’d write and my brain whispered “wouldn’t you rather take a nap?” Being it was a very warm afternoon; I answered the sleep siren’s call and curled up on the bed with Barney and Bogie as furry bookends.
What’s the benefit of an afternoon nap? You wake up feeling more alert. If not, there’s always a caffeine zap. If your critters are napping with you, you have that cuddle time. Just like the puppy in the picture.
So if your brain whispers “wouldn’t you rather take a nap?”, go ahead and treat yourself.
- Current Mood: awake
‘I live in a world of my own, but that’s okay, they know me there.’
What can I say? It’s me.
My witchy world may reside in my imagination, but there are times when I think it hovers just on the edge of my vision. That if I turn my head fast enough (total ow there since we would be talking whiplash), that I’d actually see that magickal world.
The underground clubs would hold all sorts of preternatural creatures. You’d brush shoulders with witches at the grocery store. That dog sniffing after your poodle might show up as a gorgeous guy the next day. Bunny slippers might show up in your front yard and not just to eat the grass either. Trust me, they don’t carry plastic bags with them. You could walk into a dressing room and find a gargoyle in there unless he’s out somewhere creating his own form of chaos.
I love the idea of living in a world of wonder. Where anything can happen when you least expect.
A house could boast a hidden cupboard that holds magickal supplies. A basement that’s been well enforced for vampires or in Nick’s case, a former bomb shelter. An herb garden that boasts a lot more than the usual herbs for cooking.
It’s a world filled with rich color, sights, and scents. Not like Harry Potter’s world or even Samantha Stevens. One where magick is not all that unusual. Where you can hire Jazz to banish a curse a co-worker cast on you and/or maybe a revenge spell from Blair for that same co-worker. Perhaps seek out Stasi for a love spell.
If you’re willing to walk on the wild side, you could visit Klub Konfuzion where vampires, shifters, witches and who knows what else might be there. Hire a limo through Dweezil, although I warn you not all of his drivers are as pleasant as Jazz. And the Full Moon Café isn’t for anyone who isn’t of the furry persuasion.
I told you – it’s a world of my own where anything can happen. And the first four books are only the beginning as I weave more spells, create more characters that would have fangs, horns, and , although Fluff and Puff are convinced they are the true stars.
There are no fairy tale castles, no caves where the dragons dwell, (they just might have a comfy penthouse), no gothic looking houses. Although, there just might be those too. Because, as I said, this is my world.
That’s the fun part of creating your own world. You can let it be anything you want it to be.
What about you? What do you want to see in your world?
I'm also signing my Hex series at Eclectic Books in Murrieta, CA. 39520 Murrieta Hot Springs Road in the Margarita Ville Shopping Center at 7pm. We're having a Halloween celebration!
- Current Mood: cheerful
Those have been my absolute fave chocolates for what seems like forever and woe be to anyone who dares get between me and my See’s! Everyone knows the bordeaux and scotchmallow in the box is always mine. Luckily, I'm the only family member that likes them, but they'd still be mine no matter what.
Excellent example: I was part of a group book signing some years ago and someone placed a box of See’s near me. And there it was. Milk chocolate bordeaux. All that glorious creamy texture in milk chocolate and chocolate sprinkles that some days is as good as sex. And it was MINE!
Except a good friend of mine along with her family was there and Susan is also a bordeaux slut and proud of it. Picture this. She’s reaching for that piece, smiling at me, hoping to catch me off guard, but voila! I got there first and held it up with that aha! of triumph. She thought she’d be quick and snatch it out of my hand. There was only one thing to do. I licked the bottom and the piece was now well and truly mine. Susan later got even with me courtesy of a slice of boysenberry pie, but that’s what friends do. Battle over chocolate and exact revenge when need be. Or make up a chocolate care package when a friend needs that creamy smooth comfort.
Just as when our See’s opened here Susan and I were out for an early breakfast to make sure we were at that door when the shop formally opened. Who cared about speeches? Just open the shop already! Needless to say, the mayor was trampled by all the women waiting just like we were.
There’s no need for PMS as an excuse for See’s. If it’s just a good day, have one. If it’s a bad day, have three. If it’s a really bad day, get yourself a whole box.
I didn’t need to be told chocolate could be good for you or make you feel good. I knew that a long time ago.
And that’s why, no matter the reason, I dip into my See’s stash.
Which reminds me. I need a See’s run!
What about you? Does chocolate do all those cool things for you?
- Current Mood: bouncy