What I'm Reading: Um . . . . I can't really talk about it . . .

Lately, I've been catching up on my work related reading. I've been reading lots of stuff that doesn't come out yet for a while and friends' manuscripts. Because my focus has pretty much been exactly like this . . .

. .  . when not reading things for work or friends. . . I've kind of been doing what this puppy is doing. I mean, harassing your image in a mirror is kind of underrated, right? So, I'm afraid my reading post is going to be on the short side.

I can tell you about the next book I'm going to pick up as soon as I clear my reading decks. Are you ready? It's been siren calling my name for about a month now . . . In The Shadow of Blackbirds. This book looks AMAZING! And yes, I used caps, but I'm telling you I think this book deserves those caps.

In the Shadow of  Blackbirds is set in America during World War I. The Spanish Flu Epidemic is sweeping the world, causing everyone to go out in public wearing masks for fear of contracting the flu. Men are being sent to die on the front lines in Europe. Neighbors fear each other and accuse each other of being German spies. The world is ravaged by death and seances, spirit photos and other ways of contacting or understanding the great beyond become crucial for mourners seeking solace. Mary Shelly Black, our narrator, is an orphan who doesn't believe in the great beyond, seances, etc. That is until her childhood sweetheart, killed on the front lines in Europe, returns to her as a ghost.

(Seriously, do you have shivers yet?? I do!)

The feel of this book is so modern and so post-apocalyptic it's hard to believe it's historical at times. I mean that in the best possible way.  I've read the first few chapters and I was gutted to have to put this book down to pick up some other projects. But I know it's waiting for me. Taunting me. Just out of reach.

I can't wait.

What about you? Are any books siren calling your names? Let us know in the comments!

Cupcake: That this is in this world....

Yes, we live in a world where this exists.....


A drive-through just for picking up your beer. By the can or cases of beer.

Ahh, North Carolina.....

My Biological Clock

A little while ago I posted something on Twitter to the effect of this:

My biological clock is dysfunctional. It's making me long for a kitten. #BiologicalClock
— Jenny Williamson (@TheGenuineJenny) May 2, 2013

Yes, I meant it as a joke. At the time. But it’s actually true. My sister got a new kitten (ADORBS!!):

...And all I could think of was having a cat. I want a cuddly little warm body snuggled up next to me while I type. I want a purring little animal keeping my feet warm at night. I want the unconditional love and adorableness that only a cat can provide.

I never really wanted kids. Throughout my twenties, people always told me I’d change my mind. So far that hasn’t happened, and it’s getting to the point where if I was going to change my mind, it better be soon. 

But I did want cats. At least five. I wanted to have a mother cat and all the kittens. Some people pity crazy cat ladies; I always wanted to be one. It's not true my biological clock is broken. It's just attuned to non-human babies.

But I look at my life now, and it’s not set up for cats. For one reason, I travel too much. Like right now, while you’re reading this, I’m in New Zealand with my boyfriend—a guy who lives in Europe and gives me a great excuse to get out of town. A cat can be left alone for a week or so, but I couldn’t leave one for weeks or even months at a time.

Even if I didn’t travel so much, though, I don’t know that I would be able to have a cat. My apartment’s too small. There’s no good place for litter. And with rent costing what it does in New York, my life would have to seriously change—I’d have to either make a ton more money or decide to move out of the city—before I’d be able to move to a bigger place.

So for now, I’ll just have to live vicariously through Angel. Angel: this is my request for more Hobbes pictures up on the PostcardProject. I’ll get my own someday, but for now, I’m going to just pretend he’s my baby.

Cupcake of the Week: Actual Cupcakes. GoT Cupcakes.

You might be surprised to learn this, but this is NOT a GoT blog. (Although we do talk so much about it that it might as well be sometimes). Still, since it's cupcake time--I decided to bring you an actual cupcake with frosting and everything because they're tasty and um, well...that would be something new and different.

And I got poking around and I found a GoT-themed cupcake opening sequence!! COOL!!!

Enjoy:

What I'm Reading: The Waste Lands (Book 3 of The Dark Tower Series) By Stephen King

So I was browsing a used bookstore’s shelves the other day, when I stumbled on a copy of The Waste Lands, which is Book 3 in Stephen King’s Dark Tower series. I picked it up and read it again, for the first time in years.

And I remembered. 

I remembered what it was like to be a kid under the covers, reading with a flashlight until four in the morning. I remembered what it was like to hide my book in my lap or behind a textbook so my teachers wouldn’t see I was reading in class. I remembered sitting on a busy schoolbus, completely oblivious to the chaos around me because I was engrossed in my book. The sheer joy of being completely immersed in a world that’s terrible and beautiful and that I don’t want to leave. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten. I couldn’t believe how long it had taken to find my way back.

I also remembered that I am totally in love with Roland of Gilead. You know how I was totally fascinated with JZB and all things dark-hero? Yeah…scratch that. Roland isn’t a deliberately sexy character—The Dark Tower steadfastly refused to be a romance no matter how much I wanted it to be. But Roland was sexy to me before I knew what that was. Roland is vulnerable and romantic and practical and deeply dangerous all at the same time. Roland is the kind of guy who’s a little old fashioned, but who can still roll into any situation and have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. (Or spilling their intestines onto the floor, depending on what kind of situation it is). 

Roland is also a little bit touched in the head. He is a supremely capable character with an enormous blind spot—his obsession with the Dark Tower. It leads him to forsake his friends, his life, his kingdom—everything. But there’s something undeniably attractive about obsession (at least among fictional characters), and even that draws us in. 

Stephen King is a hit-or-miss author for me in a huge way. His misses are big. But his hits are EPIC, and this is the greatest of all of them. (At least the first three books. The last four—well, I’ll let you judge for yourself. But I have strong opinions.)

And as for me? I’m swearing off the dark-and-dangerous heroes. They’re too contrived, too caught up in their own masculinity. Instead, I’m holding out for a guy with faded blue bombardier’s eyes and a talent for the quick draw.

Cupcake of the Week: #Fitch the Homeless

I am more than a little in love with this campaign. This is fantastic.

If, like me, you would like Abercrombie & Fitch to get a rebrand then please share.

Game of Thrones: Season 3 Episode 7 Recap

This may be my last recap for a while, as I’m going to New Zealand (today!) to run around for a few weeks. If I get a chance, I may put up a few more. Can’t guarantee it, but I’ll try. If not, I’ll just have to get my GoT fix in one long weekend catch-up marathon after I’m back. Which actually sounds pretty great. One episode at a time is never long enough.

[Warning! Spoilers below!]

We open with Ygritte picking on Jon Snow’s former privilege. She asks him rather pointed questions about whether or not the guys carrying the banners get a chance to defend themselves. “It’s a great honor to carry a house sigil,” says Jon Snow with zero sense of irony. He does have a point about the Wildlings all being doomed against the more disciplined and better-armed knights of the South—but nobody appears to be listening.

Over in Robb’s tent, Catelyn Stark gets off the understatement of the century: “Lord Walder is prickly by nature.” If you haven’t read the book yet—just you wait.

Meanwhile, Sansa is miserable—and Margaery attempts to change her paradigm. Finding her weeping about having to marry Tyrion, Margaery asks: “has he mistreated you? Has he been kind to you?” Turns out the real reason Sansa doesn’t want to marry Tyrion has much to do with his last name—but perhaps more to do with height-ism. I’m crossing my fingers that Sansa learns something from Margaery, especially when she suggests Tyrion might know more than the signature Westeros-style doggy position in bed—but I don’t think Sansa’s picking up what Margaery’s putting down here.

I love how these two women are both about the same age—and yet so, so different in terms of worldliness and capability in this very difficult world. It's only a matter of time before Sansa gets eaten by something bigger and badder (like, anyone), unless she pulls her act together.

Joffrey is a twit. Tywin looks like he wants to bite his head off and is masterfully restraining himself. He rather deftly makes it clear that he is the true power in King’s Landing—and Joffrey is left looking confused. Margaery would have known exactly what Tywin was doing.

Daenerys’ dragons are getting more powerful, and she’s not above flaunting them to intimidate the ruler of the Yunkai. Selmy and Jorah advise her that taking Yunkai is pointless—but there are slaves to be freed behind those walls.

It looks like her priorities are starting to shift. The Yunkai offer her all the ships she needs to get to Westeros—but she turns that down in favor of taking the city and freeing the slaves. A worthy effort, but I’m starting to think Daenerys will eventually realize she can’t do both.

I’m starting to miss the old clever Tyrion. In this season, Tyrion is generally getting put-upon as the royal treasurer and as the reluctant groom. Here he tries to persuade Shae she’ll have an honored place in his house even after he marries Sansa—but Shae is having none of it. I hope Tyrion pulls it together soon and starts using his formidable intellect to get on top again—figuratively, of course.

Arya is starting to get more and more alienated—even to the point of telling Beric her “one true god” is Death. If she were around today, she’d be a middle-school Goth girl. Instead she manages to escape Dondarrion’s men—and get captured by the Hound.

Meanwhile, we still don’t know who Theon’s torturer is—but everybody has a calling, and torture is clearly this guy’s. Poor Theon wakes up to find two beautiful women seducing him—and just as he starts to enjoy it, Torturer Guy shows up with a really specific-looking knife-like implement and starts going for the delicate bits. Yeesh.

Bran’s plotline is actually quite compelling in the book—but in the movie, basically all he does is sit and sleep and dream of the One-Eyed Raven. There’s not much action, despite the feud between Osha and Meera. I’m pretty sure it’ll get more interesting once they’re past the Wall, but so far these scenes are just there to remind us that Bran exists, as far as I’m concerned. Osha has a monologue about what happened to an old boyfriend—but it doesn’t tell us anything new about the White Walkers.

Then we get to Jamie, who manages to convince his captor / guards to take him back to Bolton’s for Brienne. He gets there to find Brienne stuck in a pit with a bear, facing it down with a wooden sword—in a dress, no less. Jamie jumps into the pit, weaponless, to save her. You have to love his courage—and if you’re like me, you might be surprised to find yourself forgiving and rooting for a guy who’s thrown a child off a roof. That is the sign of truly outstanding character development.

And yet I’m pretty sure Jamie would throw Bran off that roof again if he had to. I don’t think Jamie’s changed, so much as what we know about him has changed as we see him in different situations throughout the series. Which, again, is brilliant.

And with that, I’m off to New Zealand! 

Something New: The First Month (Treadmill)

I've been a grumpy bugger for a few months now. Kind of impossible to live with. This year has been a big year for so many of my friends. Babies. Jobs. Moves. For me it's been kind of stagnant. Not a lot of progress. A load of grumbling. Some wallowing. Then more grumbling.

Like I said, I've been a grumpy bugger for a few months now.

The thing about being grumpy is that it's very easy to stay grumpy. It's much, much harder to actually get out of a funk.

In a year that feels big for everyone except me, the most important thing I can do is to stop seeing my life in terms of other people's goal posts. It's hard enough to make progress against my own goals, let alone comparing them to others. Sounds sensible, right?

I mean, it is sensible. The problem is getting your head around that sense.

Lately, I've been listening to a lot of pod casts while I work. Usually I'll put on some music and just groove along to that, but for some reason even music puts me into a grump. Anyway, I stumbled across this Ted Talk (not a pod cast) and was transfixed. Give it a watch. I'll be waiting.




Try something new for 30 Days. It's not really a revolutionary concept. I love that he used what I like to call my mom's slogan too. My mom went back to college to finish her degree when I was about 14. She always used to tell me, "8 weeks will pass whether or not I go to school. At least if I'm in school I'm 8 weeks closer to graduating". My mom did graduate college the year before I graduated high school.

So, here's the thing, 30 days will pass whether or not I do anything different. I could spend those 30 days in a grump. I could feel terrible about the progress I feel other people are making while I'm slumped where I stand . . . OR . . . I could make something happen.

Everyone has a secret dream. Something they wished they could do. I'm going to spend 12 months ticking off my dreams in 30 day blocks. With the help of one of my best friends, and mostly impartial judge, Angel, I'll be keeping track of all of my 30 day challenges here on the blog as well as on my Tumblr and Twitter. I'll check in at the beginning of the month to announce what I'm working on and at the end of the month to let you know how it worked out.

There will of course be rules/guidelines:

1) A month begins on the 8th and ends of the 8th of the following month. (Example: Month One is from the 8th May- 8th June) Why begin mid-month? Why wait for a the start of a new month when I might be feeling less then enthusiastic about the whole thing! This is all about destroying the grump.

2) The goal must be quantifiable.

3) The goal must be daily.

I suppose beyond that, there are no rules.

For my first month I'm going to tackle something I've been meaning to do for ages. I'm going to attempt to get my incredibly out of shape self into some sort of exercise routine. How? Every day for a month I'm going to walk/run/crawl 1 mile on the treadmill. 30 miles. It's not a lot to anyone who is in shape. It's a bit pathetic. But, for someone super out of shape, it's a start. It's something that if I can succeed at this month and I'll be proud to have done it. I'm also hoping this will be the start of some sort of exercise programme for me.

Here I go. Wish me luck.

Cupcake: Try Not to Smile

I dare you not to smile....



Yep. It's a hedgehog with a sombrero. You're welcome. Happy Wednesday. ;)

"So, What's Your Novel About?"

So the other day I was in a café. Quietly working along, digging into some revisions. There’s a guy, sitting at a table a little behind me. I turn around, thinking to stand up and go get a refill on my coffee, and I catch him looking over my shoulder, reading my novel.

He piped up. “Whatcha writing?”

Me: “Um. A story.” 

Him:  “Is it a short story or a novel?” (He tried to look around me at my laptop screen again.)

Me: “A novel.” 

Him: “Wow, that’s cool! What’s it about?”

I managed to mutter something about how I didn't really want to talk about it before scurrying away to another table. And to be fair, this guy was clearly not picking up on my cues. I was obviously very uncomfortable, and he kept pressing on. Not to mention he kept peeking at my laptop screen--I can't be the only person who thinks this is akin to casually standing under a stairway so you can peek up women's skirts. You don't go around peering at people's private stuff.

But atill, I was awkward. And I'm not really that socially awkward in general (although I definitely have my moments.) And I'm not reluctant to talk about my book to the right audience. I chat happily away about it in groups full of other writers and genre fiction fans--safe audiences. And I have a great elevator pitch. If called upon to talk about my book to an agent or a publisher, I would have no problem.

But I kind of have to know you're a safe audience before telling you the details. And knowing you're "safe" has nothing to do with trusting you or being close to you. It's more about knowing you're into that kind of thing. People who  aren't into fantasy or romance themselves typically don't question me about my plot beyond my most general answer. But sometimes they do. And it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I would say I don't know why--but I do. It's because when I do go into it in detail, sometimes the response goes something like this:

“Oh, you write fantasy? You mean like Twilight? I hated that movie.”

“Oh, you write romance? I heard there’s a formula every romance writer uses and all the books are pretty much exactly the same. Hell, my five-year-old niece could probably write a romance novel.”

“Oh, you write fantasy? You mean like elves and vampires and wizards and shit?” [Rolls eyes]

“Oh, you write romance? There’s no money in romance. You should follow me and my friends around and write a book about us. We’re hilarious. Here, allow me to launch into this long-winded and boring story to prove it....”

“Oh, you write romance and fantasy? Why don’t you write a real book? Like Truman Capote or J.D. Salinger.”

“Oh, you write novels? What have you written that I’ve read?…Oh, sorry, your stuff isn’t published yet? I thought you said you were a writer.”

Granted, these are exaggerations. Much of these types of responses are conveyed in undertone, not in overt words. But you’d be surprised at how insensitive some people can be—and how sensitive some writers can be about our work. At any rate, I have to come up with a better response to this question--one that allows me to deflect this question gracefully. Any suggestions are welcome.