This past week, I vacationed with family. Siblings…parents…that sort of thing. You know what I remembered as I spent twenty four hours a day, seven days a week with my family? I remembered why I do not live with, in, on, around, or in the vague vicinity of my family. Don’t get me wrong–I do love them! I do…but…but…well, there’s only so much family I can handle. This week, I went a little overboard and now I’m feeling the consequences.

It feels a lot like a hangover.

The week before last, I stayed at my girlfriend’s house. I love her too. I do…(can you see where this is going?)…and I can spend much more time with her than with my family before I peak in annoyance…but…but…well, Sweet’s house is very much her house. It isn’t my space. If I’m loading the dishwasher the wrong way, I’m going to hear about it. And, “Why are you chopping the onion like that? No, no. Give me the knife. I’ll show you how…”

*sigh*

I do know how to chop an onion. I’ve done it before, with relatively minor consequences.

Anyhoo…today I’m in my own home, where I can chop onions however I damn well please and load the dishwasher…well, actually, I don’t have a dishwasher, so I don’t need to worry about that part. But the point is that I’m back in my own space, and not a moment too soon.

I love the people in my life. I love my friends, my family, and most of all my pernickety girlfriend who must have onions chopped just so. Even though I love all these people, I don’t want to live with a single one of them. Call me a hermit, but I would go crazy without my solitude.

Virginia Woolf had her room. I have my bed. Yes, I do share it with cats, but cats are much less annoying than people. I’ll tell you a secret–I’ve never liked sharing a bed with anyone. I much prefer sleeping alone.

Waking up beside Sweet is pleasant. I do enjoy watching her dream. Her face is so perfectly beautiful when she’s at rest. All the same, I could do without the snoring, the excess body heat, and the ridiculously bad music they play on the radio station she insists on waking up to.

Lone wolf…hermit…crazy cat lady…call me what you will, but I believe in having a bed of one’s own.

Hugs,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
gisellerenarde.webs.com
twitter.com/gisellerenarde

This heat is getting the best of everyone. All across the U.S., state after state is suffering and wilting under the sun’s intense rays and the formidable humidity. I feel so sorry for anyone who doesn’t have central air or A/C window units. Luckily, the new house we moved into is very air tight, so a small unit downstairs and one upstairs in my office keep our home comfortable.

Our new home has a small fishing pond that’s spring fed. Normally we’ve been going across the road to it and fishing at night. My youngest, who is five, has become quite a li’l fisherman, lol. Anyway, the heat has prevented us from fishing this week. Since Sunday, we’ve walked over once, and that was at nearly 9 p.m.

The youngest girl has discovered two toads that have sat on the carport and literally fried. Birds are dropping out of the sky and the trees due to the heat. We’re constantly checking on the dogs and the bunny. The two cats that are indoor kitties refuse to go out unless it’s early morning or late in the evening.

The upside to the heat and humidity is that it gives me a good excuse to sit in my office and write. I’ve turned in the last of an entire novel, have secured two new contracts, and have made great progress on a co-authored novella I’m working on. When it’s this damn hot, lol, what’s the point of going outside and suffering from sunstroke or dehydration when I can remain in by the A/C and get writing work done?

The other night I was cleaning up the kitchen after supper, and my hubby was sitting at his usual spot at the table watching TV and sipping some homemade wine. I chatter about what I’m working on, use him as a springboard for ideas, get his opinion on various names, etc., and tell him about what I’ve submitted and where. The conversation moved to the heat and humidity. My hubby is a welder, so he already works in a shop with high temperatures, but add this hot weather to it and the shop thermometer reaches 145 degrees and then some. I mentioned I was thankful for the A/C he put in my office or I’d never be able to set foot upstairs. I hung the hand towel and said, we’ll, I’m going back upstairs to the bat cave.

He burst out laughing and said, “A bat cave with air-conditioning!”

Sometimes I feel guilty when I know my hubby is slaving away, welding, sweating, and all the while the temperature goes up, up, up. But if my work keeps going the way it is, then maybe I can build him his own little bat cave. But for him it won’t be an office. It’ll be a room with animal trophies, a flat-screen TV, his guns, fishing poles, and a recliner just like Jeff Foxworthy’s. LMAO!

These authors are in constant promo-mode and defy the unspoken rule of blog etiquette. Now most of what is said in comments is congratulatory or uplifting in nature, but these promo queens turn the blog topic around, whatever it is, and make it all about them somehow. Yeah, they try their best to upstage the poster.

The cardinal rule of blogging and commenting is this: THOU SHALT NOT PROMO THYSELF ON ANOTHER AUTHOR’S BLOG UNLESS REQUESTED TO DO SO.Yeah, wait until the blogger invites you to guest blog, why don’t you?

Not too long ago, a very upset author emailed me about this. She could not fathom the idea of someone commenting to HER blog all about THEIR big news and upstaging her announcement. Neither can I. Other times these promo queens–and kings, cause I’ve seen the guys do it too–will actually go so far as to mention the titles of their books and even leave buy links. But even if they don’t do that, they are pretty crafty in nature–or at least think they are–and find other ways to promote themselves. They have a way of taking the spotlight off of the poster and shining it on them.

What they don’t understand is that what they deem to be genius promo tactics isn’t winning them any brownie points with the blogger OR other commenters. Trust me, everyone notices it, rolls their eyes, and thinks: “there she/he goes again.” Yeah, again. Cause these type of commenters do garner a reputation for what they are doing after a while. People see it happen over and over again and wince every time they see that author’s name. So if you are one of those little rain clouds on your fellow author’s blog, take a step back and think before you post all about yourself and your own work. It’s not as well-received or welcome as you think it is.

I have some pretty big news of my own coming up soon. Well, I may not announce for several weeks yet. Got way too much on my plate and things are still getting sorted out. But when I do announce, and one of these rain clouds comes along, I’m going to simply smile, delete their comment, and move on. Hey! They asked for it.

On another note, Faith Bicknell-Brown, author and editor, owner of the Avoid Writers’ Hell Workshop, posted here at FAB yesterday about some upcoming news. She’s decided to close the AWH workshop in favor of posting lessons from the AWH blog. I think it’s a good idea as the lessons will be archived and much easier to access. Members and non-members alike will be able to ask questions or have discussion in general on the blog in the comment section. Faith will leave the sister group–AWH Chatters open for Monday promos, general chatter, and lesson announcements. So if you haven’t joined Chatters yet, now is your time to do so. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/avoidwritershellchatters

But I did crawl into bed last night and lay thinking for a while, this blog post once again in my mind. My thoughts turned to my writing and I realized that I have four pen names, plus two variants of my real name that I write under. Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about the fact that I have four nom de plumes, but for me, they’re not difficult to manage or maintain. The pseudonyms just developed on their own for various reasons. The first big reason is for anonymity for my really adult material and also because the Internet is full of green-eyed gremlins.

Where am I going with this?

Well, a good author friend of mine mentioned that she has never noticed where any of the online groups—Yahoo, MSN, and Google—have helped her book sales. I agreed with her. My material sells just as well without schmoozing on the groups. Besides, with so many groups and forums out there, who the heck has time to hang out on all of them? I’d never get anything done, LOL!

But, one of the blessings of groups is that I’ve met some amazing and truly wonderful people.

Anyway, there have been many changes in my life, including my writing career. I’m relieved and pleased to say that all the changes have been wonderful ones. However, trying to maintain my online life with my real one has become a huge challenge, so I’m making some necessary changes of my own, some life trimming. By doing so, I’ll be able to continue an online persona, take care of my family, and live in my writing cave so those hunky guys, lovely ladies, and all the possibilities between them can keep heating up book pages and readers’ minds!

Where will I be? A blog appearance here and there like FAB, as well as maintaining two of my main blogs will be where you’ll find me the most. Also, I’m on Twitter and Facebook. These tools are easily at my fingertips and save me a lot of login time, etc., especially now that I’m stuck with infernal dial-up until wireless or DSL is available in my area (if you think you’re hearing profane words drifting through the ether, that’s Faith over in Appalachia bitching out dial-up!).

That’s it for today, my friends. I have coffee to drink, scenes to write, and contracts to fulfill. To find me, check out my links, look for me on Twitter and Facebook, or simply drop me an email through my websites.

Faith’s site, Faith’s erotica site as Molly and the AWH blog for writing life and creative writing info .

The reason I’m blogging about sex ed today is because my little boy was talking about it a few days ago, and I thought it would be a good topic to get some opinions on. I guess I’m pro sex education, however, I don’t feel like they are going about it the right way. According to my kid, it appears to be more about reproductive parts and how the body works rather than the things that a kid needs to actually learn.

They don’t teach them about putting slot A into slot B, for instance. Now some of you might think that isn’t something they need to know—that if you tell them, they’ll go out and practice. I think that you’ve already got kids out there having sex and that those who do were going to anyway and those who don’t, well, knowing the details isn’t going to matter to them.

So why do we have some kids having sex at an early age when others refrain? I’ve heard a range of answers on that one for sure. Every excuse from seeing it on TV to peer pressure. Now I don’t doubt that kids watch too much TV, see things maybe they shouldn’t too soon, but I can’t blame their sexual activity on being exposed to too much too soon. Nor can I blame it on peer pressure completely. If we raise our children to be strong in mind, no amount of ‘overexposure’ to TV, video games, and movies could possibly sway them. And most certainly not little Sally Jane Doe from up the street.

I honestly believe that children, and when I say children I mean those eleven to fifteen years old, are inclined to seek out another person to share something with if their lives are somehow lacking. That it’s all about getting the attention they need. Maybe it’s about being touched in general. An awful lot of kids don’t get as many hugs as they should. I remember hearing a ten-year-old child say to me once that she wanted a baby. I knew her parents and knew that the child received no attention. That the child was actually hungry—and in more ways than one. Hungry for not only food, but love. That child was pregnant at age twelve. I saw that girl not too long ago, now all grown up and with three children. She’s probably twenty-five or so. She works as a caregiver to the elderly and is married, her husband employed in construction. I looked at her children and was immediately impressed with how they were dressed. She’d taken such care with them. Their hair was nice and shiny, clean clothes and shoes, and all were smiling and you could just tell they loved their Mama. It was nice to know that she’d broken what could have been a vicious cycle. That’s not to say I recommend anyone getting pregnant at age twelve. Hell no. But to explain that this child had nothing and so wanted something. She seemed happy now, and I can’t imagine what she had to go through to get to the place she is today.

Children crave love and affection. They need to know that parents are there to talk to and support them no matter what. The answer to preventing children from having babies isn’t in a sex ed class that never really does anything other than teach them about reproduction and whisper don’t do it because it ruins your life. The answer lies with good parenting. Open communication with children. Setting a good example.

And hugging.

I remember a girl in high school who evidently was learning disabled. Her mother gave birth to her late in life (well fortyish isn’t too late, but not the norm maybe) so she was fifteen and her parents were in their sixties. This girl thought she could get pregnant if a boy stuck his tongue in her ear. That’s one of the things her parents had told her. I’m all for protecting children, but that kind of lie doesn’t protect them, does it? The girl was pregnant by the end of her junior year.

At least sex ed is getting rid of the lies. I’ll say that much for the system. But it needs to go further. Instead of the gym teacher (that’s who teaches sex ed in our school system) getting up in front of the P.E. class for three weeks out of the school year and talking about sperm swimming and eggs traveling through tubes, it would seem that someone more qualified needs to be doing this. Someone who can speak to these children about their fears, their needs, and the consequences of their actions. These things are only touched on by that three week session. It might be different in other school systems, but where I live, the entire process is sorely lacking. I honestly believe that school systems should turn up the focus on the child/teen pregnancy problem a couple of notches and possibly even go so far as to have counselors in the schools that are trained to address this single issue. The systems could target schools where there seems to be a major problem.

In the meantime, I talk to my kid. I’m very open with him, and he’s very open with me. Sometimes his questions are a bit more than what I’d like to discuss with him. But it’s answering those hard questions despite the momentary embarrassment that makes us good parents, isn’t it? Staying involved in your child’s life is the single most important thing any of us will ever do.

And that involvement doesn’t end at age eighteen. Though I’ve had it said to me a hundred times in recent months that once they turn eighteen there is nothing else for me to do, I subscribe to the theory that with love comes responsibility. And my kids will always have me driving them crazy about this or that. I’ll always be their cheerleader, mentor, and staunchest critic. I’m not above ‘tough love’. But in the end, my actions are always fueled by my love.

Anyway, when I opened the email, I have to say I was a tad…disappointed. Which really surprised me. The Art of Losing is my first book, and I knew that as a new author I wouldn’t sell a lot of copies. I’m also aware that money is scarce these days, and seeing as it’s a long book, it costs $5,95. I would certainly think twice before spending this amount on an author I’ve never heard of before so I’m pretty sure others would too.

(For the record, I know that some sales numbers haven’t been counted yet. Still…I want to rant and I shall.)

For the past four months, I kept telling myself that even if I sell only 10 copies, I’d be happy. And I believed it. Or so I thought…So why was I disappointed? It’s not like the amount was pitiful. I could go to the supermarket and buy myself lots of goodies, aka booze and sweets. Or I could take out a few of my friends and buy them a drink.

And yes, I know that money is directly proportional to sales, but I honestly didn’t think about that. All the people that read the book and got back to me enjoyed reading it. I’ve had two reviews, one from Sensual Reads and one from Manic Readers and they were both good. I’ve been in my publisher’s top 10 on Fictionwise on and off for weeks. All of this leads me to believe my book was/is/will be well received by readers.

So I sat down and thought about it and realized that I just can’t put a price tag on my work. OK sure if my earnings were $700 I’d be jumping up and down like the Energizer bunny but the point is that I’ve worked really hard on this book. I’ve stressed for months, trying to figure out the plot (coz alas I’m a pantser), seeing with dread as the deadline approached, then going over it three times during edits. Many pieces of my soul is in this book, and even though at some point I really just never wanted to see it again, I love it.

I’m not saying my books should cost $50, God no. I’m simply saying I can’t think of something that would do it justice. I would probably find something to fret and whine about in any scenario, even the $700 one. And with that came the realization that I have to give JLo her dues (all artists really but JLo came to mind coz I always use her as an example in my head. Live with it.)

For years, I’ve been downloading free music because

CD’s are way too expensive to buy

and since JLo already has a gazillion money and more houses than she needs, why should I keep increasing her bank account? And now I’m in the unfortunate position to admit that my way of thinking is wrong and I should pay. Dammit!

Which means that in my free time I have to come up with a new justification to download free music.

P.S. Oh yeah: for the record, I did sell more than 10 copies.

I have spent years earning the right to my feelings.  For years I was told that I should feel this way and act that way.  It twisted my view of who and what I am.  The lost of my children made me make a few choices, the most being that I was done living my life for others.  Doing so had never made me happy, and it did not get me the most important thing to me…my children.  So I have worked the last few years to learn to just be happy with being me.

One thing that brought all this to light with me is my daughter.  As with so much, my daughter is a catalyst in this thought also.  She has also spent years listening to her father and my sister along with other people telling her to do this and act that way.  Now I can be just as guilty of telling her what to do, but I try very hard to not tell her how she is allowed to feel.  If she is sad, then she is allowed to cry.  If I am sad then I am also allowed to cry.

This came into play at work last week.  One of the guys at the guard shack said something that just hit me wrong.  Between the words and his tone it just hit me wrong.  It did not hit all at once either, it was as I drove around looking for the next trailer I was due to pick up and deliver I just started to break down and thought what did I do wrong to make him jump down my throat like that.  Someone said that he has a tendency to say things in such a way that he is joking but it does not always come across like a joke. When I got to the gate with my load, his boss was in the building.  Noticing that there was some tension between us, I tried to tell my side of the story.  Long story short, I started crying cause of what happened.

All that made me think about how many time I have been told to grow a thicker skin.  That I should not allow things to bother me.  Who exactly has the right to tell me that I am not allowed to feel anything?  As far as I know, the only person who can decide how I am going to feel is me…and God.  And last time I checked, God was not telling me that I am not allowed to feel.  This all come back around to my daughter.  She fights now to believe that she is allowed to feel any feelings that are her own.  I want her to be able to stand on her own two feet, in as many ways as possible.

I do not know how many times in the last few months I have put my arms around her cause she was upset for one reason or another.  Or how many times she has told me that she is not “allowed” to feel this about that.  It really pisses me off that someone would tell her she is not allowed to feel her own emotions.  She has every right to feel…I will just be happy when she is not having all these intense mood swings.

We have moved into an apartment.  It is not one I would have chosen but we needed a place to live.  It is an ok apartment, but I seen another that I liked oh so much better.  This one just happened to have move in special that was virtually impossible to resist.  I figure it will allow us to have a roof over our heads for the next year.

As people, as humans we are all entitled to our emotions.  I hope that you work on owning yours as well.

Fifteen years ago I could predict exactly the type of person I would develop a crush on. I knew every last characteristic. That person would be:

• Male
• Healthy & Fit
• Aged 48-60
• Bald
• Highly Intelligent/Academic
• Refined Manners and Tastes

Think Patrick Stewart. Yeppers, that was the man for me. Every time a man like that crossed my path, I’d melt into a gooey puddle of crush-juice.

Ten years ago, I noticed a shift in my crushes. Bald men stopped turning my head. A different type of person started attracting my attention:

• Female
• Artsy/Quirky
• Aged 18-30
• Small in Stature
• Eclectic Tastes
• Dark Hair

My rockabilly babe, pin-up model Bernie Dexter, should give you some idea of the kind of girl I’m talking about.

Now…I just don’t know anymore! I can’t predict when a crush will come along and what she’ll look like or act like. It’s like there are absolutely no commonalities anymore, except that I haven’t had a crush on a boy in a good ten years. What is my “crush type”? I’ve been mulling this over for a couple days now and…I’ve got nothing!

I mean, I think about my girlfriend of two years, and she doesn’t fit into any known category. Sweet’s:

• MTF Transsexual
• Tall
• Redhead
• “Curvy”
• Generous
• Wise Woman
• Geeky/Trekkie
• Tells Really Bad Jokes

Mind you, I don’t remember ever really having a crush on Sweet. I knew there was something special about her, and I fell in love. Or maybe I did have a crush on her…and maybe I still do. I certainly do find myself fantasizing about kissing her while I’m dozing on the subway. I still think about her all the time. Every time I’m in a store, I can’t resist buying her a present, even if it’s just a bottle of iced tea.

But that doesn’t help me in establishing my crush type. When I think about the women I’ve crushed on over the past five years, I see no similarities. Maybe we only see the similarities in retrospect. Maybe five years from now, it’ll all be clear.

What about you? Are there certain physical qualities you know you’ll be attracted to in any given person? Or do the physical qualities have to accompany personality qualities? Can you clearly identify the kind of person you’ll develop a crush on?

What’s your crush type?

Bright Blessings,
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
www.gisellerenarde.webs.com

We don’t think like soldiers. Maybe we should and we might have something that would leave our hearts in tack. Go into the “war” with guns blazing and take out everything that stands in your way.  Of course, it doesn’t always work like that when you join the war and your partner doesn’t.

When you look at the battlefield, you’ll see that there are so many wounded and so few to pick up the pieces. If you’re one of the lucky ones that have found their better half, cherish it and give it your all. It might be the only chance you get.

For all the wonderful authors, let’s stop this war and continue to bring all the lonely hearts some loving through our work. We write for the enjoyment but think of all those people that wish the man in your book…was theirs. You’ve made a lonely heart become a loving heart just by bringing your characters to life.

I hope everyone is having an awesome day and may love find their way to you, if not in real life but through our books.

First, my name is Faith Bicknell-Brown. I’m a repped author, an editor, a teacher, and a mom quickly going insane.

As I was preparing to shower, dress, and ready myself to go into battle with my daughter’s high school principal this morning, I realized that my day to blog here at FAB was today and not tomorrow.

What do I blog about? What do I blog about? What do I…?

I looked over the posts here at FAB and saw a trend of sorts, lol, so I’m going to write about something I discovered last night while talking to my husband, my teens, my teens’ friends, and a couple of my online pals.

I’m intimidating as Hell.

What??? Uh, yeah. I’m intimidating.

I’ve heard that over the years. Even in high school, girls would come up to me and say, “Ya know, I always thought you’d thrash my ass if I tried to talk to you, but once I did, I realized that you’re really nice, funny, and super easy to talk to.”

So why do people think I’m intimidating? My oldest daughter says it’s because I have dark eyes and a very penetrating way of looking at–or through–people when I’m talking to them or watching them. My dau’s bff said it’s because my temper is intense and I’m unpredictable. My youngest dau said that it’s because I have a way of speaking and holding myself that shows I won’t put up with any crap. The hubby insists that I just have an aura that says, ‘don’t piss with  me’ and then add that to my dark eyes and manner of studying someone or making eye contact with them that it freaks people out.

{Shakes head} The thing is that I didn’t REALLY know people felt this way until the past couple of days. Children I don’t know will come up to me and talk my ear off, want me to spend time with them, and remember me from then on, making it a point to seek me out at school or wherever, but adults are afraid to approach me? It just doesn’t make any sense.

My dau’s boyfriend said he was terrified of talking to me about important things because he figured I’d thrash his ass. Again…what??? I replied that I’m one of the most laid back, easygoing people he’ll ever meet. And he remarked that those are the ones you gotta watch out for, lmao.

This made me pause, however. I now worry that when it comes book-signing time readers be afraid to approach me.  Do I sit there with a maniacal smile pasted on my face in the hopes I won’t intimidate anyone?

Is there a magic pill for this condition?

Well, for now, I’ll just utilize it to freak out the moron of a high school principal this morning.

Mwahahaha!