Susan Wingate's Official Blog

The "Easy as Pie at Bobby's Diner" Book Tour

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 21:35:14 PDT

So, Blue Star Books has given me some dates for the "Easy as Pie at Bobby's Diner" Tour!

I've listed them below. Maybe if you're in one of the cities, you might stop in and say "hi!" Please do. -Susan

Arizona

May 17th, 12:30p - 2:00p
National Brandeis Committee – Phoenix Chapter
Barnes & Noble, Shea Blvd & 90 Street
Scottsdale, AZ 12:30p – 2:00p

May 18th, 3:00p - 3:15p
Radio Interview
Carol Blonder Show
KFNX, Radio 1100, Talk Radio
602/277-1100

May 15th
Bard’s Books
3508 N 7 St
Phoenix, AZ 85014
(602) 274 7530
Sven, reading

May 18, 11a-1p
Waldenbooks
9617 N Metro Pkwy W Ste 1014
Phoenix, AZ 85051
(602) 863-2424
Ashley

May 18, 6p
Barnes & Noble
2000 East Rio Salado Parkway
Tempe, AZ 85281
(480) 894-6954
Melissa, reading

California

June 7, 6-8 p
Barnes & Noble
7849 North Blackstone Avenue
Fresno, CA 93720
Mark, reading

Barnes & Noble
3600 Stevens Creek Blvd
San Jose, CA 95117
(408) 984 3495
TBA

June 4, 7pm
Laurel Book Store
4100 MacArthur Blvd
Oakland, CA 94619
(510)531 2073
Luan, reading

June 3/4, 12:30 - 1:30p

Alexander Book Company
50 2 St
San Francisco, CA 94105
(415)495 2992
Bernard, reading

Washington

June 11, 12, Saturday Chat (All day)
Whidbey Island Writers Association
Clinton, WA (on Whidbey Island)
Dorothy, workshop

!!!PUBLICATION PARTY!!!
June 13th, 4p
Village Books
Bellingham, WA
Launch Party, reading, Nan

Nevada

July 30th, 1p
Barnes & Noble
3860 Maryland Parkway
Las Vegas, NV 89119
(702)734 2900

July 28th, 6:30 - 8p
Clark County Library
Las Vegas, NV
Workshop: "Blasting the Market"
Julie

Every Friday... Weekly Shorts!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 10:25:47 PST

So, my good friend, Paul Tseng listens well. He keyed in on an idea at a class we and fourteen or so others attended this past October. The message? Writers of yore, Dickens et al, used to serialize their novels or short stories (which later turned into novels) in newspapers to attract readers and build a solid readership.

Just yesterday he notified me that he has a new blog, the Blog of Paul Tseng. Is live and available to read. He's a wonderful writer, by the way! So, you should check him out.

Okay, so I'm thinking, "Paul! Brilliant! What a stellar idea!" Of course I'll be copying him. In fact, as you will see, I'm posting my short fiction below! Oh, did you think when I titled this "Weekly Shorts" I meant clothing? Silly goose. I'm a writer. I don't have nice clothes, just jeans and PJs. I write atop the mattress... it makes me happy!

And now, without further delay... my short for the week, a science fiction-esque little number entitled...

JUNE, HIDDEN BY THE MOON

by Susan Wingate

Normally, we shied away from opportunities like this one. Space travel, I believed, should be done by experts, astronauts, you know?

But, for some reason, their ad enticed me into asking my husband, Mark, and, for some reason, he agreed. It was one of those weak moments you have when you get all excited about something, it seems right at the time, and then until the day comes to actually do it, you dread the whole idea. But, we paid for it, in full, and committed.

That's what happened with our trip to June, the newest planet in our solar system, the one that had hidden behind the moon for millennia upon millennia, the one NASA had found in 2012, just before the proposed end of the world the Mayan's had predicted centuries before. Another Y2K, sure but the hype of the Mayan's apocalypse far outdid anything we would've dreamed of in 2000.

Anyway, we had booked the trip in January for a trip to June in June. Cute, yes but marketers think of the every possible way to make a sale and this worked for us. Plus, Mark's birthday is in June, we wrapped the whole thing up as his birthday present. And, we both got pretty excited after giving them our credit card for the price of $415,000 fare for two. They told us the cost of booking two saved us half a ticket price if we booked them separately. A deal, they told us.

So, of course, we had to get all of the gear, a burn suit, just in case, traction boots for gravity and if we wanted we could take along a pet. They offered pet-friendly vacations, very PC organization. And, after much deliberation, we decided to take Peaches, our little tan-colored kitty, a small delicate little feline who absolutely becomes distraught if I leave for even a day. Peaches it was. We decided. Good thing too because of how things turned out plus, Mark isn't a big fan of cats. Not really.

Anyway, Mark, turning sixty that year, had been working out, constantly. He had gone from this latent, drinking, eating mass of flesh to this lean svelte handsome man again, like the one I married so many years before.

I hadn't changed much. My physique, still thin, still shapely, had never faltered. I had maintained an active lifestyle, taking walks on moony days and jogging on sunlit nights, the world's magnets had shifted by then and turned everything a bit topsy-turvy in the process and, no, no one exploded, things just flipped ever so slightly. Toilet water swirled in the opposite direction, clockwise instead of counter, fire burnt downwards curling into itself forming an odd blue ring but quite prettier than the old fire only burning with its flames straight up although some people got a bit of ennui every so often wishing for the “old days” but don't we all sometimes. I mean, I do. Especially now.

So, finally the day comes and nine of us, me, Mark, Peaches, Jonathan, his cat, Tiger, Fanny, Quoyle and Jen all enter this penis-shaped vessel. It reminded me of all those cartoons I watched as a kid where the cartoonist had drawn the rocket ship like a bullet with three fins at the bottom. It was just like that. Gunmetal gray. Matte. Basically, unattractive and large, standing about seventy feet tall. Holding all the amenities anyone could want – a kitchen, two bathrooms (men's and women's) with showers and bed chambers for us all plus a nice round den area with a bench encircling the interior girth of the room where we all sat and communed, when we wished. I didn't so much. I'm more to myself, a loner, I guess.

Plus, the ready-room, the place where we sat upon take-off and landing looked much like a movie theatre without the movie screen but had chairs with seat-belts like those found in old-fashioned buses, the kind with only one strap for your lap.

The ship's crew, only two – Pat and Candy, a couple of rough and tumble gals but competent if for nothing else but their sizes, acted the part of knowledgeable astrotourguides. We had placed our lives and Peaches into their hands.

Strapped in and ready for take-off, I held Peaches in my arms in a sling so she couldn't escape and so that I could use my hands freely if need be. My nerves had pitched to a level that teetered on, breakdown. Mark slipped me a Diazepam.

“Chew this up, now!” He barked the order under clenched teeth and even though he whispered it, it still sounded like a bark.

I took the tiny pill gladly, mashing it and swallowing it fast, hopeful for a fast result.

Peaches wriggled.

The engines girdled, spitting and rumbling building into a loud buzz. Thank goodness for the headphones they supplied in each seat's armrest. I slipped mine on as did a few others. Fanny slept through the whole thing and fascinating Mark in the process.

I cupped my hands over Peaches ears and the ship, shivered and shook and before we knew it, we had lift off. If you've never been in a rocket ship the lift off is enough to make you want to turn tail and run away. It's slow and precarious as the boosters burn away from the earth's surface, from the launchpad. It feels a lot like you're suspended a few feet above the ground just swinging there for about a minute. But, then all at once you feel movement again, pushing you up and away from that suspended point and then, before you know it, you're zipping up fast, so fast the skin on your face feels like it's been pinned to your ears.

I can only imagine what poor Peaches felt but the sensation only lasts for about five minutes until it evens out again.

A thick four-foot impenetrable, heat-protective glass wrapped several sections of the ship's walls making a 360-degree view window in each level. Through lift-off we watched planes coursing a track for east and west, north and south, miles off in the distance but ever so briefly as we shot cannon-fast pulling off each stratosphere and finally exiting the Earth's atmosphere.

Trees became pin points of green and roads became lines on a map. I almost expected to see an inset showing a legend of an inch portraying some hundred miles or so but as quickly as the thought occurred to me the earth's shape became a ball and you couldn't see one detail except for changes in shades of blue, light and dark.

As the crew promised, once out of the earth's orbit, the rumbling subsided and we went careening past the moon. It gave me the feeling like someone had thrown a ball past my eyes, it went by so quickly.

And, I don't care what anyone else tells you. The moon? It looks like a wheel of cheese. Not cheddar but Swiss, all holey and cream-colored. I swear.

So, Peaches was petrified and never fully got over it. She cowered for the most part, either with me or with Jonathan and Tiger. Jonathan had a sweet streak in him a mile long and a calming effect on cats I hadn't seen, ever, in a man.

He would crack open an oily can of tuna or some fishy-smelling canned cat food he'd sneaked on board, or put out handfuls of kibbles for them and they'd eat together. And, once Peaches finished eating she either clawed at me to get back into her sling or she curled up in a deep fur-lined kitty bed with Tiger.

The group areas looked a lot like anyone's home with carpeting and cushions on these wrap-around benches. The only thing that looked out of place was a single ladder running straight through each floor in the center of each level of rooms.

Oh, and the showers. They were open-stalled and spit out a hot stream of chlorine-permeated water and had rubber mats with several holes punched out for drainage that you stood on. Of course we expected all of it. The literature of the trip had all the appropriate cautionary statements, truth in advertising and all that.

We had to wear goggles and could not drink shower water. We brushed our teeth with potable water and used conditioner, of course, in the shower but no shampoo because as you know, chlorine and soap make a toxic and deadly fume when combined.

As we journeyed the two-day trip past schools of asteroids and herds of cosmic clouds we finally spotted June. They estimated our arrival time within four hours.

June appeared in the distance like a green marble streaked with carnelian veins. It looked alive.

Within an hour we could make out large masses of, as they explained, nitrogen pools – thick deep spaces taking up the larger part of their planet much like oceans on the Earth's surface. They told us, June's inhabitants played on the beaches as we humans do at our beaches.

Junians, as we soon began referring to June's inhabitants, also looked very much like humans on one side of their body but on the other they looked more like a burn victim. The crew instructed us not to avoid staring at the different side because avoiding that odd side offended them, that they felt we seemed to prefer the side looking more like us humans. A cultural thing that they suggested we proscribe to. You know, when in Rome, do as.

And, even while Junians had their preference – that we do gaze on that different side – they continually turned that odd side away from humans as they spoke to them, which created an odd conversation as we continually walked to that side, with the Junians pivoting away and the human, kind of, orbiting around them.

Anyway, it made for dizzying conversation but it was usually an enlightening one.

The only time we didn't go through this rigamarole was when we were sitting with them. Then, etiquette dictated you stare out as you spoke with them. Which was fine with me and a hell of a lot easier than running in circles around a Junian trying to view their odd side, odd to humans, anyway.

So, we land...

It felt like landing on a pillow, we bounced about a bit until the ship settled and clamped its landing gear claws down deep into the Junian earth.

We snapped on our gravity boots and headed off the ship. The atmosphere of June is much like an altitude at 15000 feet on the Earth so as we traveled they reduced the oxygen levels so evenly that we never experienced any headiness or oxygen deprivation. And, so we were well prepared to breathe Junian air.

Each of us, upon exiting, paused a moment at the portico.

I guess we expected some vastly different landscape but, no, it looked much like Earth in the desert. Not like the desert you see in sci-fi movies all empty and desolate. No. The desert like in a city with buildings and vehicles (I'll get to those later) and markets and industry.

It was crazy modern. The buildings looked like warehouses and held not only stores but residences as well. Of course, they had McDonald's on nearly every street corner and as dictated by the Universal Council, they all spoke English, Spanish or French.

We, being humans, weren't expected to learn at that point even Japanese in schools and I expected Junian would be a long way off in the future as part of Earth's curricular requirements.

But, I digress.

Everyone could get along well speaking English and sometimes it was fun to hear them speak French, so I would engage them in the language just to hear the way they said French words. And, yes, they sounded much like Texans speaking French but the French, as you know, think all Earthlings other than French Earthlings sound like Texans speaking French.

Mark went his way and I went mine. He had had his fill of Peaches and needed a break. I guess I get it because I had been talking baby-talk to her the entire time and he was sick of it.

Mark found a convenience store and began helping out. He wanted to experience the business side of June and having owned convenience stores on Earth he wanted to experience that business especially. I passed him and he waved and smiled. I lifted my baggy of French Fries and Coke that I had gotten at McDonald's as a “hello” and he nodded but then Fanny walked up to the counter, buying some thing and took his attention away from me.

I feel like she had a habit of taking people's attention away from others. She had these blue eyes that looked like the sky in the daytime and, at night? Like turquoise. They changed colors.

Plus, her chest outsized any other I've ever seen and her ass, well, she must've been named for her ass 'cause it was indeed one of the finer asses I've ever had the opportunity to look at, in my life and, hey, I'm not flaunting but mine is rather nice, slim and shapely but Fanny's? No, hers was one of those heart-shaped perfect asses you see on swimsuit models and at forty-five, I'm no swimsuit model.

Still.

Anyway, not thinking anything about it, I went and found a block of cement in front of a row of warehouses, sat and began to eat.

A loud scraping sounded, almost making me choke and making Peaches dig into my skin as she slunk deeper into her sling.

A huge tambour door folded into itself, like a garage door, opened up behind me. I had been seated at the entrance of a Junian's front door!

He came out.

“Wha-at.. [tick]... are-a... [tick]... you-a... [tick]... do-a-ing-at?” His voice bent in all the wrong places and clicked in-between each word.

I jumped up.

“Having a snack.”

“Re-a-peat-at... [tick]... p-at-l-at-ease-a.”

“Ha...ving aaaa ssssnnaccckk...” I repeated so slowly it made me sound like I was talking to a moron but I knew he just had to process the English. After which the bends and clicks he'd first started speaking with slowed then were lost completely.

I turned to the right side of his face like we'd been instructed on the ship and he turned away like we had been told they did and we spun in this weird little twirl of a conversation and finally, having gotten nearly sick from dizziness, he asked me to sit.

“Sit down.”

I nearly fell at that point. Peaches had stretched out around my waist in her sling probably in an attempt to assuage the spinning sensation.

By the time I sat, I'd lost my appetite and handed them to the Junian who had decided to sit next to me.

“Want some?”

“Crap!” He yelled so I sat them down next to my right hip just in case he changed his mind.

“Well, if you change your mind...”

“Crap! Meant for tourists and Earthlings. Crap!”

“What do you normally eat?” A stupid question but I was tiring of hearing the word “crap” so I asked.

“Nambletaffs and quiddlestampers. But they're bad for my pump. Had to go last year for a reaming. Still. I eats them. But, Kej gets mad so I eats them out most times.”

I just nodded figuring if I asked for any explanations of what nambletaffs and quiddlestampers were, I'd just get more words describing food that had no meaning to me whatsoever.

“I like salad.” I interjected.

He didn't ask but I could tell he didn't know what a salad was. “Salad?” I said. “Oh. It's a mixture of greens like lettuce and tomatoes and onions and...”

But before I finished he interrupted, “Lettuce. What is lettuce?” I stared at the human side of his face, forgetting, which made him look away but, really, I thought, did he really think I knew what a flipping nambletaff was?

I looked away again.

“Forget it. Suffice to say, it's food and I like it.”

He nodded his head too, kind of getting that I had tired of our small talk.

“What do you do here on June.”

Which he took way too literally for my taste.

“I LIVE here.” He said making me look at his human face again.

He turned away again.

“I understand that you live here... what's your name?”

“Fantin.” He answered and made me think of Fanny.

“Fantin. I'm Thena, short for Athena.” Wishing I could take it back almost as I spoke it but this word he understood.

“Athena, the goddess!”

“Yes!”

“You're a goddess?”

Re-wishing I could take it back I said “no” and nearly turned to look at his human side but stopping myself when out of the periphery of my eye I saw him twitch at my slightest movement in his direction.

“No,” I repeated looking straight forward out at a row of warehouses, “no, it's only my name.” I could tell he was nodding, getting it. “So, Fantin. What do you do when you're not just living here on June, I mean, do you work, do you have some fun like play?” I had to run it all together so I could explain myself, my question to him so he wouldn't answer something like “I live here” again. You know?

“I work.”

Shit. But then he added. “I play too. I live, work and play here.”

I closed my eyes figuring he wouldn't be able to understand how ridiculous and futile I felt the conversation was.

“Are you irritated with me?” His human side glanced in my direction.

“No. I just think I have a bit of a language, um, a communication barrier that we don't have time enough to work out.”

He nodded. “Yes, you do.”

I rolled my eyes away this time shielding my look from him.

“Hello.” He said. My head was still turned.

“Hello.” I responded.

“No. Not you. Kej. This is Thena, short for Athena.” Someone else was with us. When I finally turned they both turned away from me. Fantin still sitting and this new guy, Kej, standing. I looked forward again.

“Hello Kej.” I said.

“Hello, Thena. Is Thena short for Athena, the goddess?”

“Yes.” Fully expecting him to repeat the “oh my are you a goddess” comment.

“Pretty name.” Kej said instead, making me look at him in surprise and making he and Fantin turn.

“Thank you, Kej.” I paused momentarily turning face-forward and continued. “I'm not the goddess.”

Which made him respond. “No. I wouldn't think so.”

Making me roll my eyes like, what the?

Anyway, I'd had enough, my ass had gone numb and the fries had thoroughly gone cold so I jumped off their cement block porch.

Kej said. “Don't forget your fries.”

“Would you like them?” I said as I looked at the ground facing them as I spoke.

“Cold fries? They're crap!” Said Kej, making me nod my head in agreement and picking up my garbage.

“I suppose they are.” Still looking at my feet, I said my good-bye and turned to leave.

But, right then, a winged vehicle flew over us. It looked like a normal airplane but the wings actually flapped in a painfully slow motion and it made zero sound. I turned back to Fantin and Kej who turned their burnt faces in my direction. I stared hard at them.

“What is that?” I pointed to the air vehicle.

“An air ship.” Kej responded first. “Much like your planes on Earth.”

Fantin looked at Kej like he was the smartest guy in the world and rubbed his stomach. Kej rubbed Fantin's then and they both jumped backwards at each other bumping their rear ends together and making, what I can only describe as, a giggling sound to one another. When they did, Kej's human face and Fantin's Junian face watched me in this yin-yang sort of macabre display.

They stopped, looking surprised and Kej quickly turned his Junian side to me stopping the whole weird scene. I stared hard again.

Then, a sausage shaped air vehicle so high in the sky went sailing above us making a noise that I can only describe as equal to a something grilling on a barbecue.

“What's that?”

“Oscar Meyer. It's a franchise, you know.”

Kej was not only smart but business-wise as well.

“Ahh.” I responded. “Well, thanks Fantin, Kej. Nice to meet you.”

They nodded their burned faces toward me and I turned to go. I had spent way too long away from my ship mates and Mark and Fanny and needed to get Peaches back to the ship to let her potty in the litter box.

As I ventured back past the convenience store, Mark was nowhere in sight.

And, when I got back to the ship all the others were sitting on chaises lounging in the Junian sun and sipping on some grayish drinks all the while looking stoned drunk.

“Has anyone seen Mark?”

“Yep.” Jonathan answered.

“Where is he?”

“You don't want to know.”

Tiger had gotten fully accustomed to the cool Junian breeze that was lofting through the soft silt where he laid. Peaches was still happy inside her sling.

“Why don't I want to know?”

“He and Fanny are up there.” He popped his nose once high in the air over his head, making me look up.

And, there they were, Fanny and he, nuzzling it up lying on a beach towel and necking.

My cheeks prickled as my face filled with angry blood.

“You want to see a beating?” I asked Jonathan who smiled a very drunk smile at me but then the Oscar Meyer wiener plane went by and distracted him.

I grabbed a stick off of a woody shrub-like-plant. The stick weighed in at a good two pounds and had little stiff nubs on it. It tapered off at the end like the switches my mother used to use on the backsides of us kids when we lied or stole or cheated, like Mark was doing right now with Fanny.

I climbed up the embankment and got between them and the sun casting a long shadow over Mark.

“Having fun?” The question seethed, nearly hissed out of me.

“Thena.” He pulled his face off Fanny's god-awful chest. “What are you doing here?”

“The question is 'what are you DOING?'” I said.

Fanny rolled out from under Mark and Mark, sensing the dead space between them, nearly fell onto his face.

Fanny had seen the switch. Mark, not so much.

I raised my arm fast before she could slide away any farther from me and dealt her a blow on that perfect ass of hers, then raised my arm again, another blow to her ass cutting her skin with the stick making her welt up fast and bleed.

Then I turned on Mark.

Jonathan must've heard the screams because he pulled me off of him. After ten blows, he later told me, he reached us. After the twelfth blow he finally stopped me.

I flogged Mark just about over his entire body. He had to be gurneyed into the ship. Fanny couldn't walk either but they only had one gurney and one wheelchair so she got the wheelchair which hurt her just to sit in it and made me think it was the gift that kept on giving.

Jonathan gave me another Diazepam after settling me down with one of those gray drinks. By the way, they taste like Jaegermeister, a strong herbal alcoholic taste.

Jonathan said later, he saw it coming. You know, between Mark and Fanny. I guess they'd been eyeing each other on the space ship for two days. It amazes me even today that I missed it, it seemed totally hidden to me, like June hidden behind the moon.

Anyway, Jonathan kept making such a nuisance of himself, consoling me, taking care of me and Peaches, well, I just had to reciprocate.

We're a two-cat family now. Me Peaches Tiger and Jonathan and we stayed on June. Fantin and Kej helped us find a place. It's a comfy little spot, all concrete with a huge tambour door and a view of the landing pad for the Oscar Meyer wiener. It's a franchise, you know.

The Word "Inspire"

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 08:44:04 PST

Inspired, Inspiring, Inspirational...

Each word a person might use to describe Nik Halik. I certainly will. When I got the email from Mr. Halik's publicity team to possibly host him on my blog, I jumped at the chance. Honestly, I had only heard of this man because of Facebook and Twitter and all of those social network sites. Sometimes people can drown in the flotsam of names, faces and links on them.

Yet, something in me jumped at the chance. The request was rampant with information about Mr. Halik - that he is a certified astronaut, that he and his wife were married in a live volcano... you must be excited with a guy like this. So, I said "Yes." And how lucky I am.

With any guest, hosting requires a bit of research. Usually the research materials are supplied by the publicity team but sometimes, like this one, a blog host says, "I'm going to search the web." And she goes off on her own. When I did, I got, literally, one gazillion hits about him. About his knowledge as a financial wizard, an astronaut, a Thrillionaires®, and a philanthropist. Ahh, a philanthropist... now, that struck my fancy.

Last night while reading the first three chapters of his book "The Thrillionaire," I realized the depth of this man. He's not some dare devil crazy guy swimming with Great White sharks just to say he's done it. No, he is a lover of life who understands the meaning of wealth far better than any owner of a Fortune 500 business... FAR better.

I cannot wait to finish his book. So, let me go back a second, I'm reading his book and thinking, "Wow, this is all right. He's completely and utterly right!" This morning I woke up refreshed and ready to get busy. I will be making a phone call to my girlfriend who took me on Sunday up a small hill but a wretched one, Mt. Finlayson. I call it "hell hill." She calls it "the butt burner." I complained the whole time... it's one of the things I do best! :) However, this morning, I awoke thinking, "I have to go to Mt. Finlayson today. I WANT to go to Mt. Finlayson today!"

And, why? Because of the inspired and inspirational words in Mr. Halik's book, "The Thrillionaire."

I can't wait to finish this book. And, if you read the book, I sincerely hope you comment here and tell me how it makes you feel.

Okay, my quest for today? Interview Mr. Halik at 1 p.m. (PST). Climb Mt. Finlayson, 2 p.m.! Now, I have to get busy...

Have an inspired day! Susan

READ MORE ABOUT MR. NIK HALIK & THRILLIONAIRES BELOW

When was the last time you did something for the very first time? In fact, that is what Nik Halik does every day.

Nik is the ... THE THRILLIONAIRE !

Nik Halik’s life is an epic, extraordinary exploration of exciting activity. He is a global wealth strategist, successful entrepreneur, international speaker, astronaut, bestselling author and most of all, high adrenalin adventurer. Nik is constantly looking for his next thrill.

He was one of the first explorers to dive 5-miles down into the North Atlantic to eat lunch on the deck of the Titanic, he has summited the highest peaks in the world, and he is one of the privileged select explorers to view the curvature of the earth from the edge of space. He has defied the laws of nature, traveled to every corner of the world and accomplished what most of us can only dream of. He is also a certified Astronaut.

THE Thrillionaire

Australian Nik Halik went from being a rock star to a successful investor, entrepreneur, best selling author and high adrenalin adventurer. Nik Halik was not born into a wealthy family. He is a self-made millionaire.

Nik became a multi-millionaire and amassed great wealth through savvy investments in property and the stock market in his late 20's. In 2001 he founded the Financial Freedom Institute (FFI), Money Masters and also co-founded the Intelligence Group of companies. As an international wealth strategist, his group of companies has financially educated and life-coached over 300,000 individuals globally. He is the real deal, creating millionaires across the globe. Nik believes that anyone can do what he has done. He doesn’t regard himself as specially gifted above other human beings, but will tell you that it’s all a matter of training your mind and emotions to shift into an “abundance mentality.” Once you adjust your thinking, you can “reach for the stars.” Nik Halik has done that, literally. The Thrillionaire: exploring life's epic adventures, one thrill at a time. http://www.thethrillionaires.com

THE THRILLIONAIRES SOCIAL NETWORK
New Global Group Dedicated to Living a Life Committed to Personal Development, Adventures, and Financial Success
The Thrillionaires—a new global online social community group dedicated to living a thrilling, passionate life, committed to personal development & financial literacy and growing through incredible adventures. I’d like you to join me as part of this community. The founder, Nik Halik, is an internationally known adventurer who has pulled together some of the greatest minds, teachers and mentors on this planet, such as Bob Proctor, Scott Martineau, Mike Filsaime, Loral Langemeier, Stephen Pierce, Harrison Klein, Lisa Jimenez, Marcia Wieder, Peter Bielagus and dozens more.

NIK’S NEW REALITY TV SHOW
Thrillionaire is a dramatic, high stakes reality series where each week, Nik helps one Average Joe or Jane create and experience their own Thrillionaire adventure. In every episode, one thrill-seeking individual accompanies Nik on a nail-biting, high adrenalin expedition. Whether it’s a stuck-in-a-rut businessman wanting to change his mundane lifestyle, an engaged couple looking to have an extreme wedding or a young man trying to conquer a lifelong fear, Nik provides his students with the tools they need to achieve Thrillionaire status.
We’ll watch Nik and our Average Joe prepare for the thrill, embark on the adventure and reflect on the journey. Along the way, our Average Joe partakes in activities that challenge him to gain a new and better perspective of who he is and how he lives his life. With emotional, spiritual, and physical gratification, each Average Joe realizes his life’s maximum potential and completes his journey of self-discovery.

THE THRILLS

SLEEPOVER IN THE CHEOPS PYRAMID IN GAZA, EGYPT.
DEEP SEA THERMAL VENTS DIVE IN SUBMERSIBLE IN CANADA.
GET MARRIED IN A LIVE VOLCANO.
SWIMMING WITH MASSIVE GREAT WHITE SHARKS IN MEXICO, NATURES MOST FORMIDABLE AND NOTORIOUS PREDATOR.
OVERCOME A LIFELONG FEAR – FOR INSTANCE, BUNGEE JUMP FROM SKYSCRAPERS.
EXTREME STORM CHASING UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL IN TORNADO ALLEY.
EXTREME MOUNTAIN CLIMBING. Mt Vinson in Antarctica.
JOINING A CAMEL CARAVAN IN THE GREAT SAHARAN DESERT TO EXPLORE THE ANCIENT CITY OF TIMBUKTU WITH AN ETHNIC NOMADIC TUAREG TRIBE.
RUNNING WITH THE BULLS, PAMPLONA, SPAIN.
TAKE THE WHEEL OF A FORMULA 1 TYPE RACING CAR ON A GRAND PRIX COURSE AT SPEEDS OF UP TO 150 MILES PER HOUR.
EMBARK ON A CHARITABLE MISSION, DELIVERING SUPPLIES TO A MOUNTAIN VILLAGE.
ENGAGE IN A TRIBAL SPORTING EVENT, LIKE MONGOLIAN HORSE-SKULL POLO.

Watch for Nik Halik, Tomorrow, February 2, 2010!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 11:37:01 PST

Trying to bring current interesting authors to a reading public has always been a challenging and exciting goal for me.

TOMORROW! We have Nik Halik, Thrillionaire. I will be posting some of his information here so you can read about him.

As well, I'll be interviewing him. This will be a taped interview and will be posted either here, Facebook or Twitter... or, hey, all of the above but I definitely will let you know.

His list of accomplishments runs a mile long. He is one of the most interesting people I've ever read about or will meet. His focus is undaunting and his courage, amazing. I cannot wait to post the interview I will do about Mr. Halik next Wednesday. It will be an audio interview.

I'll post it here on http://www.susanwingate.blogspot.com/, Wednesday, February 3rd, by noon.

Until then...

Here are a couple of links to wet your appetite about Mr. Nik Halik.

Nik In Space... http://www.nikinspace.com/

Nik, The Thrillionaire... http://www.thethrillionaire.com/

For more, come back next week.

Until then, I'll be writing (of course) and posting more poetics peripatetics... -Susan

Today! With Earl Ofari Hutchinson... Here!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 07:59:24 PST

Looking back on all of the posts for this blog, it's true, this is my first political posting! And, after reading in a NY Times email just minutes ago about President Obama wanting to put a freeze on some domestic programs, I'd have to say my guest's information for this morning's blogging, Mr. Earl Ofari Hutchinson, is timely, indeed! I'm interested in how you feel about this posting in particular because of it's political nature and my blog as most of you know normally hosts nonpolitical authors.

Also, remember, if you like what you have read, in my blogs of late, now or in the past, please pass it along to friends and family. Maybe they might like it too.

Always, however, thank you for your attention. So, without further delay, Mr. Earl Ofari Hutchinson!

How Obama Governed by Earl Ofari Hutchinson

"How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge"
by Earl Ofari Hutchinson
(Coming January 2010)

How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge. Author and political analyst Earl Ofari Hutchinson takes a no-political holds barred look at President Barack Obama’s first year in office. He answers one compelling question: Did he fulfill the massive and sweeping promise he made to restore hope and effect change in America?

This promise energized millions, reshaped the nation’s political tapestry, and propelled the first African-American into the White House. Hutchinson examines where and how Obama kept his promise, and where and how he failed to keep it. He examines in laser detail the attacks and counterattacks from the GOP and the Democrats. He delineates the differences and similarities between Obama and Bush in waging the war on terrorism. He assesses the towering battles over health care, the economy, racial attacks, the GOP counterinsurgency, Afghanistan, and the Henry Louis Gates flap. He provides readers with a guide as to how Obama will continue to govern.

How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge offers a virtual political clinic on the crisis and challenges that the nation and its first African-American president faced his first year in the White House.

Details About Earl Ofari Hutchinson

How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge
(Middle Passage Press, Los Angeles, January 2010)
By Earl Ofari Hutchinson

November 2010 is the first anniversary of the President Obama’s historic and political game changing election. Author and political analyst Earl Ofari Hutchinson takes a no-political holds barred look at Obama’s first year in office in his forthcoming How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge. He answers one compelling question: Did he fulfill the massive and sweeping promise he made to restore hope and effect change in America?

He examines the attacks and counterattacks from the GOP and the Democrats on Obama. He delineates the differences and similarities between Obama and Bush in waging the war on terrorism. He assesses the towering battles over health care, the economy, racial attacks, the GOP counterinsurgency, Afghanistan, and the Henry Louis Gates flap. He provides readers with a guide as to how Obama will continue to govern.

How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge offers a virtual political clinic on the crisis and challenges that the nation and its first African-American president faced his first year in the White House.

Book Earl Ofari Hutchinson for an interview and/or commentary on the promise and pitfalls of Obama’s first year in office. Call 323-383-6145 to schedule.

Earl Ofari Hutchinson is a nationally acclaimed author and political analyst. Hutchinson is the author of ten books on race and politics in America.

His three most recent books are:

* How Obama Governed: The Year of Crisis and Challenge
* How Obama Won
* The Ethnic Presidency: How Race decides the Race to the White House

His featured interviews and comments on race and politics have appeared in:
Time Newsweek New York Times ABC’s World News Tonight.

He has been a guest analyst on:
* Fox News John Gibson Show
* O’Reilly Show
* Hannity & Colmes
* Glenn Beck Show
* PBS Lehrer Report
* NPR’s Talk of the Nation
* CNN News Shows

He is the National Political Writer for New America Media and a regular contributor to: the Huffington Post.

Sometimes a Great Motion...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 20:50:50 PST

Yes, I love a play on words every now and again...
Reminds me of my dad, the funniest man who ever lived. He was the best.

So, I'll talk about him tonight. My dad, born James John Ajamie, in Joliet, IL to Thomas Nasif Ajamie and Evelyn Ajamie (aka, Giddo & Sitto).

Dad was the middle child, the typical get-into-all-sorts-of-trouble middle child. He got noogied on his head by Giddo, a hardliner if ever but Sitto was sweet as pie. A real angel of a woman. She was born in 1903 and used to tell me about a time when she rode in a horse and buggy. It hit a deep pothole, as I recall, and she got thrown out and landed on a dirt road. That's what she believed made her miscarry so many times.

She told me that her father used to hit her upside the head so much that she lost hearing in her right ear.

And, she made the best hummus, grape leaves and baklava in the world. Julia Childs had nothing on Sitto!

Back to dad, however. He made us, my sister and me, laugh for hours. He'd tell us crazy shaggy dog stories that lasted fifteen minutes until, "it's a long way to tip a rary!" He'd stick burnt out flashbulbs (remember those?) in his nostril to make it look like he had a bubble of snot hanging out of his nose. He told THE best Lion Joke in the entire galaxy... "my God, I shit!" You woulda too if you ever heard him tell it.

He'd stand by the bathroom door while we bathed and started this low deep grumbling in his throat that sounded like a far off motor getting closer and closer and closer and louder and louder until we finally realized it was just dad howling outside the door! He sang songs with us on road trips through Arizona, California, New Mexico and Texas. We visited the Petrified Forest and Disneyland and we have old crinkle-edged black and white photos of us in teacups and standing on wooden rock.

He gave me the push that made me ride my bike and he schooled me on how to drive a stick shift. My dad played pool for hours at a time and after that he'd golf 18 holes come home and fall asleep in his recliner watching it way back when Arnold Palmer ruled the greens and Tommy Watson was an amateur.

My dad swung us by one foot and one hand like and airplane until we got dizzy-sick. He flipped us over and over again by his hands, us doing air somersaults and landing perfectly on two feet, like acrobats.

My dad was the best dad ever. He made me understand the difference between further and farther although I mess those words up to this day and he taught me all about the theatre, Shakespeare and acting, singing and dancing and he turned me on to "Singin' in the Rain" with Gene Kelly and Doris Day!

My dad taught me all of the best things that a daughter can learn from their father and he taught me how to be nice to people, although I fail at that miserably and I'm sorry, dad. Sometimes being kind is too great a motion for me, but I can only try to achieve what my father taught so I try to set into motion the things he gave me, to reach out and offer the same goodness and charity he always showed people.

My father, my dad was the best. And, I miss him so much.

James J. Ajamie (June 1, 1927 to January 17, 1996)

Hoppin' and Jammin'

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 21:38:46 PST

Things happen so quickly in the publishing industry sometimes. So, this is what is happening with me for the next couple of months...

1. "Easy as Pie" the 2nd installment in the Bobby's Diner series is to the publisher (Blue Star Books) and scheduled for release on May 15, 2010. It's already taking pre-sale orders on Amazon.

2. "A Falling of Law" (written as JJ Adams) is scheduled for release on May 6, 2010.

3. THEN! If that's not enough, my erotic memoir, the name of which remains top secret as well as the pseudonym, has already received a hefty purchase order for books from American Wholesale Book Company!

4. I'm heading to Orcas Island to the Orcas Artsmith Colony for a week writing residency at the beginning of March. I can't wait!!! Peace and solitude for an entire week!

5. Of course, from May until August I will be on the "Bobby's Diner" book tour with a possible stop at the BookExpo America in New York. But, for sure with stops in Oregon, California, Arizona, Texas, Nevada and Washington.

So, that's all the book stuff. However, recently Nik Halik's publicity team with the Thrillionaires has contacted me to do an interview with Mr. Halik in early February. I will be posting on this very blogsite information about Mr. Halik from February 2nd until February 7th. He's quite an amazing person and I cannot wait to share his story with you.

Things move fast in the world today and you have to wear some big shoes to keep up... here's to powering around in Ked's!

- and that's the news for now, Susan Wingate.

Tossing out some writing to whomever is interested...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 14 Jan 2010 12:19:49 PST

I excerpted this from a short story I just started, so hope you enjoy. I'm calling it, "OUT FEEDING DEER"

Twelve mewling black tailed deer surrounded her. Their calling sounded something between a cat’s purr and Chewbacca from Star Wars. Anyway, their coats looked like Chewbacca, mottled and choppy from a hesitating season. Winter had come early and left early all in December. Today, just after the new year, her island hung in a waiting pattern somewhere between tropical and polar under a sweating snow globe in the armpit of Canada, off the coast of Washington, just a speck in a strait. How the deer got there? Anyone’s guess. Most likely they swam over from a larger island to the north. In a race to get away from civilization.

Fanna Ringpor walked among them everyday this way before light and just after pitch dark, that in between time when the quiet outside only listens to your breathing and fog dripping off salal. Waiting for spring to broom away the lint grey from the sky and to fill the woods with food again, Fanna smiled as she called to them.

“Oh dear, my deer. Oh. Deer.”

Her lilting soft voice, in an arc and pitch of her native land, nudged them from huddles and shaking them awake alerted them breakfast awaited. This morning, however, the day had warmed them enough into browsing early among her roses and tiptoing up to high cherry branches like a tightwire act.

In her arms, she carried a thick oil-stained teak salad bowl filled to a hill in the center of rolled molasses-scented oats and elk pellets, the exact kind used by hunters. Fanna, scooped out their mixture into five segregate piles on the wet mud pocked grass beneath a four story swaying fir in her backyard.

An anxious hungry yearling fawn came up close. A strong doe lifted her head up fast, its mother maybe, and stepped in with one foot closer.

By the end of summer, Fanna didn’t believe the yearling would make it through a harsh winter. The stunted fawn grew slow but steady with the feedings. In fact, the fawn drew Fanna into committing her ritualistic daily morning sin of meddling. Wildlife must survive or die, a thought that Fanna rejected.

She called this one, Goatboy because his size compared more to a goat than a deer. Fanna put out her hand, fingered its muzzle making the mama doe take another step closer.

“Sorry, mama.” She bent down low enough to take a hit from an angry hoof and watched the little deer eat. The doe edged up behind her. Fanna didn’t flinch.

The doe wedged her snout in between her fawn and the human in their mix and nuzzled the ground at the oat and pellet mixture. Fanna smiled.

“There. See?” Fanna whispered. “I won’t steal your baby.”

She moved forward onto her hands and knees, like an animal, like a forty-year-old animal and moved away from the two. Determining her distance safe, Fanna pushed up from the ground and picked off pine needles from her pajama covered knees. With wet spots marking her time with the animal kingdom, Fanna turned around and walked back to her house some one hundred feet. Stepping up onto the deck, she took one last look at the small herd.

“Eat well.” Her usual blessing, and she turned and went inside.

Steam duned along the bottom of windows in the kitchen.

Be Write Books... going into the new century with bells on their britches (or kilts)!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 18:48:59 PST

BEWRITE BOOKS IS REVOLTING (comes in at about 1,000 wds – pix on request)

By Alexander James (Neil Marr’s alternative byline)

The silver-haired and eye-shaded editors at BeWrite Books (with more than 100 years of professional pen-pushing between the three of them) are old-fashioned scribes at heart ... but now they’re spearheading the greatest revolution in publishing since the invention of the printing press 550 years ago.

They set up their independent publishing house at the start of this century to produce books in time-honoured ink-on-paper form. But now they’re among the very first to have their authors’ work presented on the entire range of fancy new electronic reading gadgets and even mobile phones and iPods.

With revolutionary new technology, BB titles can be read as of now in all NINE digital formats on any computer or portable reading gizmo anywhere in the world from the top deck of a London bus to a dentist’s waiting room in Los Angeles or on a stroll along the Great Wall of China.

“And to think,” said sixty year old BB editor in chief Neil Marr in France, “I started my writing career with a nibbed pen, an inkpot and jotting paper.”

Seventy-four-year-old BB senior Editor Hugh McCracken in Canada added: “It doesn’t seem so long ago that I thought high technology was learning to change my own typewriter ribbons.”

And BB poetry editor Sam Smith in England, who’s sixty-five and a self-confessed ‘awkward old cuss’, said: “I can hardly work the TV’s remote control, and here I am at the centre of a technological revolution.”

Over a hundred new books by authors all over the world have been published in paperback by BeWrite Books (www.bewrite.net), but – regardless of their grey hairs – the go-ahead publisher insisted from the start that there should always be a covering ebook version that could be read on screen. They produced what’s known as a Portable Document Formula file (PDF) of each title released. But the PDF had its imitations because perfect layout couldn’t be guaranteed on the fifty or more portable reading devices on the market by the start of this year and on mobile phones and iPods.

So BeWrite Books’ grey beards got smart and teamed up with US technical whiz Mark Coker this month, who has – with his new company www.smashwords.com – developed unique new technology that will convert their authors’ work into every single electronic format used by millions of new ebook readers around the world. Already, more than eighty BB titles are running in all formats and can be read on all devices.

Their authors – ranging in age from early twenties to mid eighties – have become literary pioneers; among the very first writers in history with an author voice loud enough to reach anyone, anywhere, any time.

Said Neil Marr: “It’s hard to believe that I was brought up paying library fines for overdue and dog-eared books by Dickens, and here I am editing work that a bushman in the Kalahari can read on his cell phone in between kangaroo hunts or whatever occupies his time in the deserts of Africa.

“2010 is a revolutionary, watershed year in the presentation of literature. Every publishing house, editor and author must embrace the new technology or be content for their books to gather dust on a shelf somewhere.”

BeWrite Books Technical Director, Tony Szmuk in Canada, said: “We always considered ourselves ahead of the game, having made those PDF files available for computer screen reading since our launch ten years ago – but the sudden explosion in the popularity of ebook reading on the new portable reading devices, mobile phones, iPods and what have you over the past few weeks woke us up to the fact that we were in danger of becoming dinosaurs in the new age.

“Did you know that the massive Amazon online bookstore sold more ebooks than paperbacks and hardbacks over Christmas? Forty eight ebooks are sold on line for every hundred physical books – what we now call ‘treebooks’ because they depend on chopping down so many acres of vital forest each year. It’s something we’ve got to take seriously. Our authors certainly do, and so do a growing number of our readers.

“The insurmountable problem we faced was the near impossible job of converting our books to the mind-boggling range of digital formats necessary to present them perfectly on the full range of reading platforms. Then we came across Mark Coker and www.smashwords.com.

“Mark’s system means that we need to specially prepare a title for digital conversion only once, and his magical technology converts it almost instantly into every current format for every single electronic reading device known. Then it’s out there for anyone to download with a few taps on their computer keyboard or to dial up on their phone. And more than fifty BB authors were keen to join us in the experiment. We’re happy to see their titles among the first in the world so widely available.

“Here’s a prediction: any author who doesn’t follow the lead of our ladies and gents simply won’t have a readership in five years’ time.”

Smashwords founder and CEO, Mark Coker said: “A bemusing number of e-book reading machines have suddenly been released – everything from the massive-selling Kindle, Nook and Sony Reader to devices from more obscure manufacturers – and they all require special formats to display books as their authors and publishers intended.

“That’s where my team and I stepped in to find an answer to the problem. BeWrite Books and their authors are among the first to have realised that the future of literature is much more than ink on paper. It’s more and more becoming a matter of the courage to experiment with brand new technology to get their message out there to a modern world.

“They tell me that this is the greatest revolution in literature since Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press in 1450. Well ... maybe. I’m just glad to have BB’s authors along with me while we try to promote good literature to more people than in the history of the printed word.”

End.

BeWrite Books titles are available in ebook and paperback at www.bewrite.net, all major internet bookstores, and on order from your local high street book shop. For a full range of ebook formats go to www.smashwords.com and key ‘BeWrite Books’ into the publisher search in the left margin of the home page.

Bobby's Diner Recipe Contest! More...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 10:52:50 PST

Okay, folks! Georgette, the owner and chef at Bobby's Diner (located in Sunnydale, AZ) has her own email address.

It's: georgettecarlisle@bobbysdiner.com.

And she appreciates the wonderful recipes she's already receiving but we would love to see more. So, dust off that old cookbook and pull out something delicious for us to include in my next novel...

Easy as Pie at Bobby's Diner (out May 2010).

Take care and remember it's a good day when you're eating pie! -Susan :)

The Line is Blurred Between Fact & Fiction at "Bobby's Diner"

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 08:37:23 PST

My life has turned into one big virtual reality...

A couple of days ago my editor, Alexandra Pezone, emailed me saying something to the tune of,

"So, as I was reading through your ms (short for manuscript) I noticed you mentioned that Georgette had her own Facebook page and thought, wouldn't it be cool if you actually set one up for her."

You gotta love an editor who thinks like that. As fast as my chubby little fingers could write I wrote back with a big fat YES! Thanked her with a dozen exes and oooos and sent a message congratulating my publisher on his choice of editorial staffers. Bravo!

Today, I set up the page. It was odd acting like Georgette outside of a story or outside the purpose of writing a book but I had fun. The world has spun into the future and it feels like you have to put on a rocket booster just to keep up these days. My mind just flashed back into the past about the future (what?) to one of my favorite cartoons, The Jetsons. Their treadmill and Astro their dog on it. That's how I feel, like an old dog on a treadmill... but, hey! At least I'm on it!

So, Georgette, in her infinite wisdom, has decided to host a recipe contest. Five winners (1st, 2nd, 3rd, first runner-up and second runner-up) of said contest will have their recipes published in her next novel entitled "Easy as Pie at Bobby's Diner."

Each winning recipe will be include the following:

The name of the chef entering,
A bio of the chef, and
A photo of the finished product

The 1st place winner will receive $50 directly from Georgette and Bobby's Diner... okay from my company but hey I'm a fiction writer, please allow me a little some slack. But, really, $50 US dollars.

All winners will receive a certificate stating their placement in the contest AND a copy of the "Easy as Pie at Bobby's Diner" upon its publication this coming May 2010.

Restrictions: There are none! :) Georgette's contest, Georgette's rules!

DEADLINE: December 31, 2009
SO HURRY and enter today, early entries are smiled upon!!!

A December Wish

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 13:15:47 PST

What a year. It never fails to amaze me that after turning thirty-five, the years have flown by, clicking off to forty, then forty-nine and all of the sudden I'm fifty-one-years-old and wondering where the years have gone and so quickly.

We've had friends and family leave us and new births. Reminding us that the world keeps turning. The cycles remain constant even while we do not. We're but visitors on this amazing speck of dirt.

It's a blink. This statement used to be my signature statement. I had it on my emails and on my old website. As years zipped by and left me wondering "what the, hay..." the saying seemed imbedded in my mind as well. A constant reminder of our mortality. Maybe I was just being morbid.

Who knows.

Now, however, my motto rings a little brighter and actually looking toward the future reminding me a bit of this person I used to be when I was just a kid, that little girl thrilled about a new day, jumping out of bed and running to the window to see what the day held for me.

These days the "jumping out of bed" part is a little slower but my mood has shifted to a lighter, happier outlook. And, to this I say, "yippee."

So, what does the end of the year hold for us? Ringing in the new (to coin a phrase). Living to the fullest. Making sure each moment counts. New things. Old things. Habits to break. Habits to keep. The wonder of life.

It's a blink. Yes, it is but I'm keeping my eyes fully open. Trying not to miss "it" as time goes by.

Think of the song, "It's a Wonderful World" sung by Louis Armstrong, or if you're too young to remember him, sung by Tony Bennett and kd lang (a fab rendition!).

Goodbye, 2009. You've been great and we'll miss you. Hello new year. What shall we do today?

Sincerely, Susan! And, have a lovely rest of December!

Mystery Novel, "A Falling of Law" by JJ Adams

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 09:04:28 PST

Have you ever seen a thunder storm approach? How the skies turn dark and ominous and the scent of rain hangs thick in the air. And have you ever seen, on those stormy days, how there might be one little hole in the entire cloud system, blinking like a blue eye almost letting you know that the sun is shining bright out there somewhere for you?

Lately, at times, behind the screen (no, not your screen, my screen) there has been this sense of up and down, light and dark, happiness and sadness yanking me around like a puppet. It's been disconcerting and hard to balance, at times. You know how it can be...

Anyway, yesterday, I spent most of the day happy and it was a nice change of pace. After receiving an email last week with an attached contract for one of my novels, the up and down roller coaster effect seemed in full force but yesterday, after receiving yet another email with another attachment - this time the contract signed both ways - the roller coast leveled out and happiness abounded.

Black Rose Writing out of Castroville, Texas has picked up my mystery novel entitled "A Falling of Law" written under the pen name, JJ Adams. I'm thrilled. AFoL has been a pet project of mine for years and now it will get the attention I feel it deserves. They intend to have it in print within six to nine months, probably nine. Oh, and, yes, I'll make sure to let everyone know the exact street date! :)

Well, anywho. Thanks for allowing me this little tidbit of joy sent your way. Have a lovely holiday season. I'll be thinking of your health and happiness on this side of the screen!
Sincerely, Susan

Following the Tiger!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 03 Dec 2009 20:47:55 PST

So! This just bites doesn't it? That the number one golfer in the world has gotten into such a mess. Yes, I suppose we can all agree that it's the fame and fortune and perhaps he feels a bit entitled but really folks, this just bites.

The first time I saw Tiger Woods he was a contestant in an NCAA golf tournament and he won. The next time, the next year, the same scenario... yes, he won. How many years has gone by and he's still winning still on top (oops, forget the pun). He's still someone I've looked up to he's a hero, a sports god, really, married, with children and seemingly on the straight and narrow but... oh no! Look out for the banana peel, Tiger.

He slipped and fell hard.

Now, I've been following the news about the now infamous Tiger with the bashed in window shield and the woozy response when paramedics arrived on the scene. I've read about the nightclub hostess and the cocktail waitress and have to presume that these transgressions were not intended to harm but to augment his multiple business ventures. Seeing the list of "ladies" on his "to do" list, I am only guessing that Tiger was only doing initial research on how to open a restaurant!

Really, think about it. He obviously "eats out" an awful lot and felt the urge to try his hand at the restaurant biz. Bet it won't have the double hump McDonald sign, hmm, maybe a swoosh? I don't know, just thinking.

Of course, this is certainly just speculation on my part but seeing the evidence, I believe I'm justified in my summation of his aforementioned alleged transgressions...

Sorry it's been so long since my last post. Been busy. Book stuff. -Susan :)

A Moment of Closeness

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Sat, 26 Sep 2009 20:16:08 PDT

I look from our bedroom window down to see the deer. They're digging about in the garden nibbling at tender perennials. To call out now might frighten them, so it's time to be quiet and head downstairs.

Moving through the house I watch them through the windows. They can hear me talking to the dogs and Vincent, one of fourteen cats. The dogs and the cat want to go outside. The dogs, so they can pee and the cat so he can cat around! The deer back out of the garden where they stand only a nose away from approaching dogs. Robert heads over quickly to see the herd. I tell him to be nice and he looks back at me in an answer.

Once the dogs come out in the morning, the deer understand that, in a few minutes, the woman will come out too but from a different part of the house.

Now, I can feed my deer. I walk into the dining area where the wet cob remains stored and close the kitchen door behind me. A few of the herd prick up their ears... donkey ears, I think, ears that hear well. Making my way outside and bending over the railing to get my wooden food bowl, they watch...

they watch me return inside the house for the cob, three scoops...

they watch me come back out and much to my surprise...

ALL of the herd has inched up so close they cannot move any closer without climbing up and onto our wooden deck!

They watch me as if audience members watching a performer on a stage, from the edge of the decking. This is highly unusual for our deer. They are very close today. For what reason, who's to know, not me that's for sure but they are intent on watching. After filling the bowl and capping the metal can, I turn and greet them. They have not yet moved away from the stage. As I approach the stairs off the deck, they begin to scatter but none go very far. In fact, today they only move enough to open a path to where their food gets set out.

It's like I'm part of their herd. Can it be possible that, in only two days meditation worked some cosmic enchanment instilling their trust in me. I'm part of the herd as I offer them apples. I'm part of the herd as I portion out the mixture. I'm part of the herd as I walk back toward the house leaving them alone to eat.

How can mere words express my joy of their acceptance?

Re-entering the house, watching them - wet muzzles, shuffling hooves, a starting and stopping of communication between them - I watch from behind glass panes as I peck away at this computer.

Onward and upward. May you have many blessings and may you recognize them when they appear!
From the herd...
Susan :)

The Hidden Herd

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 08:13:21 PDT

Earlier than yesterday this morning...

Out under the fir tree where they find food, a doe and her fawn graze bits of corn and sweet cob. Nibbling the ground with great dexterity, each mouth moving gracefully across the earth while keeping an eye out for danger. So intelligent... so inherently intelligent.

The morning sky isn't quite lit, isn't quite dark either. It hangs somewhere between night and day when people awaken then fall back asleep, when early birds catch worms and when the herd begins to stir. Two does and fawns close, a doe and her two fawns, an orphan yearling buck displaying a set of fuzzy bumps where his antlers will sprout but not this year, by spring perhaps. The herd shows up daily.

The two out under the fir worry when the French door opens to the back deck. The doe walks stealthily out of sight into the woods and disappears like magic. The fawn lingers trying not to follow its mother, knowing food will show soon now that the doors open and the woman steps out. The woman who calls out, "Oh deer." And, "Hello, my little herd." The fawn finally listens to its mother's silent urging and both dissolve into a meshing of leaves and limbs. Only their sounds remain. The delicate crack of dry twigs on the forest floor, in hiding.

I dump out deer food - a wet cob, peanut and raisin, and pellet mixture - into four piles. Turning and retreating, looking back hopeful to catch a glimpse, they stay hidden. Locking the door, they stay hidden. Gazing from the kitchen window, they stay hidden.

They return, after my brief but necessary absence, a visit to the toilet. She's very cautious, this doe. Others in the herd hang around a little more understanding that when I appear, it's usually with food. They do scatter but will hang off in a safe distance.

My moment of selfish pleasure ends...

So, now that the deer have been fed, I'm onto my second cup of Earl Grey tea. I've checked my email, checked my junk file for items that might've slipped into it, sent off necessary communication and now I'm heading back upstairs to meditate.

Until tomorrow...

Keep on with the good work, whatever you do!

-Sincerely, Susan :)

In the Moment...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 12:20:36 PDT

My favorite moments of the day happen in the morning… when my herd beckons me to feed them. Slipping my feet into my moccasin-type-slippers, lifting Robert off the bed and down onto the floor, stretching my arms into a knobby sweater, one that I leave slung over the bench at the foot of the bed, we make our way downstairs.

They’re waiting under a huge fir tree. Waiting for a their next meal, they meander over the expanse of the field in back pausing every so often, stopping , grazing and gazing at the windows of our home. They see me in these windows. They see me open them and cry out, “I’m coming, deer!” Not understanding my words, of course, but they’ve been conditioned to know that when I yell to them, usually I end up outside with a wooden bowl of food for them. A wooden bowl filled with wet cob meal, deer pellets, rolled corn and a peanut-and-raisin mixture meant to attract woodpeckers.

They live in the moment. I live in the moment. Focused on little else other than getting food to “my” deer, my herd of eight, I live in the moment with them. We sense desperation together. Their stomachs empty, they walk up but in a throe of desperation and survival, they back off. My herd approaches in a push-me-pull-you sort of way. They don’t trust me but they don’t completely mistrust me either. They must feel my compulsion to touch them, to sit with them while they eat… in the moment with them when nothing else matters but feeding deer. But, suspicion consumes them. They won’t let me stay. They trot away if I linger too long so I leave quickly, so their fawns can get their fill.

I’m a meddler in the moment. This routine with the deer settles me into a point where everything around us feels alive. Feeding my deer herd anchors me to a spot in time filled with vibrant stirrings of anticipation, exhilaration, fear, happiness and sadness. The emotions in my brief morning routine – maybe five minutes at the most – are packed.

Lately, I’m trying to get these feelings to stay with me longer, during the rest of my day. We all know the clichés, the catchphrases – words of inspiration meant to encourage us to settle into our life experiences.

“Stop and smell the roses.”
“It’s called the present because it’s a gift.”

Of course, we get it, but how do we employ the rose gifts offered to us?

For me, taking advantage of our life gift is all about time-management. I’m terrible about managing my time. My office looks like the burnt-out Dresden on most days.

I think, in part, it’s because I find myself spending far too much time in communication with people outside of my office. When I should be focusing on my work at hand, my writing. After all, writing is all I really want to do.

Sometimes, we writers can find ourselves torn between the business of writing and the practice of writing. It’s a balancing act for most of us.

So, this is what I’ve decided to do. I’ll be employing the following list. This list – a simple ‘to do’ list – a will delineate my aim for the rest of the week. Following the list below will fill up a good eight- to ten-hour day for me.

Daily ‘To Do’ List
Feed my deer,
Check my email and other communication sites for only 30 minutes at the very most,
Meditate for 15 minutes
For a half hour, I will write one page of new creative writing, whether the writing is poetry or essay but it will be completely creative and will employ all aspects of good technique,
Go outside for 5 minutes to smell the air – the air on the island smells like pine trees and salt spray!
Edit for one hour work from yesterday’s writing,
Go outside for 5 minutes to water potted plants on the back deck,
Write for three hours on writing with the closest deadline,
Go front for 5 minutes to water potted plants there,
Write for three hours on writing with the 2nd closest deadline,
Stop for 5 minutes to think about my accomplishments from the day’s work,
Check my email at the end of the day for no more than 15 minutes

By performing these tasks above, I’m hoping I will stop focusing so much on the future, on the past and focus what is most important, the now. In doing that, I can live in the moment.

Just checking in. Hope your day is filled with sun and joy, you’re getting proper nourishment and you’re in love!

Sincerely, Susan :D

CAMOUFLAGE - Chosen as a Finalist!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 08:06:42 PDT

I couldn't be happier than I am this morning...

...when I read the note from the editors at Textnovel.com that they selected CAMOUFLAGE as a Finalist in their 2009 Textnovel.com Writing Contest!

Bouncing and giddy and fluttering about, I'm doing the chicken dance and the animals around here are scared of mommy this morning. Bob, of course, gave me a big smooch. That was nearly as exciting as the notification from Textnovel! Ha!

The link for the finalist list is http://mycounsel.typepad.com/textnovelblog/2009/09/textnovel-editorial-board-announces-finalists-in-2009-writing-contest.html.

The other stories in this competition are simply wonderful so if you're at all inclined, please check them out. I'm up against some stiff competition and marvelous writers.

So, thanks to all of you who have been following me during this event. I couldn't be more pleased and encouraged by all of your wonderful words. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

All my best! -Susan :)

Trying, Again... sequel to Bobby's Diner Gets a Contract!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 13:43:56 PDT

At 1:30 this afternoon, I was called and told my sequel to "Bobby's Diner" just got another contract!

Details to follow. I'll be sending out more on this after the contract is in the mail and going BACK to the publisher!

Thanks to everyone for your ongoing support and encouragement.
-Susan :)

In Just a Month...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 09:09:01 PDT

In just a month, I'll be traveling to Lincoln City, Oregon to attend a master writing workshop with Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch. They teach several writing workshops throughout the year but this one equals a doctoral capstone course for writers. After telling Elizabeth Lyon I was attending, she'd said, "Ah, yes, you mean you're going to prison." I've heard it's the closest experience a writer will have at a workshop that's most like bootcamp!

The class begins October 3rd and continues until October 18th. During these two weeks I will be unable to do much social networking but I'll bring you all a summary of what happened.

This is an INTENSE writing class where we will be writing pretty much around the clock. So much for facials, eh?

Anyway, this is the first of a few bloggings to let you know I'll be gone and pretty much unavailable.

Thank you all for understanding!

Okay, now for the week following bootcamp...

Literary Agent, Cricket Freeman of the August Agency will be in Friday Harbor, Washington for a library presentation. You can get more information about the workshops she will be offering through the San Juan Island Library. Ms. Freeman is a remarkable instructor and advocate of writers. Her credentials run down my leg and back up to my head. Plus, she's super nice and accessible. You can't be a great teacher without being accessible, right? Well, Ms. Freeman is one of the kindest and thoughtful people I've met in this business. So, I hope you will think about attending one or more of the three workshops she'll be offering. Hey, they're free to the public so why not come.

The dates are:

October 20th from noon until about 4:30 p.m., and

October 21st from 2 p.m. until about 4:00 p.m.

Here's the best part. We're doing a raffle and the lucky winner will have the opportunity to buy Cricket Freeman dinner on October 21st. This means some lucky writer will have her ear all evening. Now, what would you pay to have a literary agent all to yourself? If you're a writer without an agent, you can bet it's a bunch! Anyway, whatever happens, it will be a kick in the pants.

Check back for more details which I'll post in the next few days.

Until then, keep on writing!

Sincerely, Susan

(Susan Wingate is the author of "Camouflage" editor's choice award winner and semi-finalist in the 2009 Textnovel.com Writing Contest and "Bobby's Diner" finalist in the 2009 Next Generation Indie Book Awards)

Please help me in the final days of the Textnovel.com contest and vote for CAMOUFLAGE! Thank you!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 11:18:34 PDT

Textnovel

Shared via AddThis

A review by Susan Wingate on THE BAIT SHACK by Harry Hughes (August 9, 2009)

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 09:08:32 PDT

Okay, so most of you know that I love writing book reviews. I especially love writing book reviews when the book is good. My job is so cool. I get to read for work and pleasure!

Well without further adieu, here we go!

A review by Susan Wingate on THE BAIT SHACK by Harry Hughes (August 9, 2009)

In a methodical build…
Wait, let me back up. Before the story begins, Harry Hughes has chosen to insert a prologue. An iffy prospect if done poorly. But, Hughes starts THE BAIT SHACK out with a bang – in the throes of a gruesome murder. Hughes carries the murder through the entire length of the prologue. He writes his prologue by visiting and revisiting the act all the while being completely immersed in the mind of the victim. And, when you think she has suffered quite enough, you’re dead wrong (forgive the pun). The disemboweling murderer keeps at her. He keeps torturing this poor woman until the very end. It’s the most agonizing murder scene I’ve ever read and Hughes quite purposefully has written it this way. He makes the reader lie down next to the victim as the murderer pierces her skin – plunging the knife in deeper – slices up her skin, smokes a cigarette while she lays in a pool of her own blood, close to death and then finally finishes her off. You think that’s a long sentence? Just wait until you read the prologue. You’re there with the characters every step of the way. It’s a brutal depiction of a heinous crime and a depiction that Hughes has captured eloquently, if that can be said about a murder. He’s prolonged the writing of this scene with intention. In order for the reader to understand the murderer’s nature, the slow exhaustive death of the victim, and I think also in part, to understand Harry Hughes – this meticulous author leaves nothing to chance.
Okay, now… in a methodical build of staging and conflict, characters and convergence, Hughes writes the perfect mystery. A dark and eerie thriller at times but always at a page-turning pace, THE BAIT SHACK left me feeling like I had just had some of the best most rigorous sex of my life but with the skankiest guy. After I finished THE BAIT SHACK I felt like I wanted to take a shower. The story is funny. It’s creepy. It’s like covering your eyes from seeing something you don’t want to see but then opening your fingers because, well, you just have to watch.
Hughes writes in a crisp and tantalizing manner. The dark sardonic story found in THE BAIT SHACK is so out there at times, that I found myself turning my head and saying, “Good lord.” And, that’s a good thing. I want to feel something when I read a book.
Many times I wanted to ask Hughes why he went from A to B in the plot but then as I read along, and, as with any fine writer, he answered my questions brilliantly and usually with such complete and utter creativity that he left me breathless. As a writer myself, I felt envious of Hughes’ ability to be so organically complex and then be able to comb through all of his built-in complexities with satisfying resolutions.
Hughes takes the genre of mystery to a new height. His writing style is unlike any one else’s I’ve read. He sets a new standard for authors to shoot for.
Harry Hughes has found in THE BAIT SHACK a narrative thrust that makes the story an absolute pleasure to read. Well done, Mr. Hughes.
Now, what’s next?
-Susan Wingate, author of “Bobby’s Diner” and “Of the Law”

CAMOUFLAGE, novel-in-progress, nabs a Semi-Finalist Spot in the Textnovel.com Writing Contest!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Wed, 05 Aug 2009 12:36:19 PDT

It's true! And, I'm so excited and pleased that CAMOUFLAGE, my 4th (and by far my shortest) novel, is already bulldozing its way to a chance at winning this year's Textnovel.com writing competition...

But I need your votes to win!

HERE'S A LITTLE ABOUT "CAMOUFLAGE"

"Written with a flair that verges on experimental, CAMOUFLAGE, tells a story of a young French woman and up-and-coming novelist who winds up in an illicit affair with her writing mentor - a married man and a world-renowned author."

This story has been such a kick to write and here's why:

TEXTNOVEL.COM is leading the way to a whole new level of writing competition. In cooperation with Dorchester Publishing (OMG), they have two legs of this competition. One in which a story can win the Textnovel competition and one that can win the Dorchester competition... and, here's the best part... that same story could possibly win BOTH!

HERE'S A LITTLE ABOUT THE TWO WRITING COMPETITIONS!

THE TEXTNOVEL CONTEST

$1,000 Cash Prize

Textnovel.com Writing Contest! No entry fee. And you might get published!
Here's the deal:

• Winner is picked by Textnovel.com Editorial Advisory Board.• $1,000 Prize plus possible publishing or literary agency contract. -->• Must have 20 chapters (and 200 pages) up by August 30th, 2009 -- no minimum word count!• Must be 13 years old to enter.• Previous prize winners not eligible.See Contest Rules for more details!
Bonus: Last year's winner picked up a 3-book publishing deal with St. Martin's Press!

THE DORCHESTER CONTEST

CONTEST OVERVIEW :

Win a guaranteed publishing contract with distribution throughout the U.S. and Canada!
Dorchester Publishing, in partnership with Textnovel, is looking to discover the next New Voice in Romance.
Aspiring authors of historical, contemporary, paranormal, urban fantasy, high fantasy or futuristic romance are invited to participate in Dorchester’s first ever e-serial writing contest.
Entrants must be at least 18 years old, and the specific work submitted to the contest must not have not been previously published in a print edition.
The contest will run on Textnovel from June 1, 2009 to November 1, 2009.
Contestants must publish at least 20 chapters/6,000 words (preferably in increments of 500 words each) by November 1, 2009 in order to be eligible for the contest.
Contestants may invite friends to vote and/or subscribe. All Textnovel registrants may also participate in the voting and/or subscription process.
There will be two rounds of judging: Semifinalists (Top 20) and Finalists (Top 10).
The 20 semifinalists will be determined by number of votes and/or subscriptions a serial has by November 1, 2009.
The 10 finalists will be selected from among the 20 semifinalists by Dorchester's editorial team and will be announced on November 15, 2009.
The winner, to be chosen from among the 10 finalists, will be selected based on a combination of factors, including positive votes and subscriptions by readers and reviews by reviewers, as well as the subjective opinions of the Dorchester's editorial team.*
The winning manuscript will receive a $2,000 advance and will be published by Dorchester Publishing in 2010.
*Please see complete Contest Rules and Regulations for details on judging.

PRIZES :

The winning serial manuscript will receive a $2,000 advance and will be published by Dorchester Publishing in November or December 2010.

Back to me: Pretty cool, eh? So, if you're a writer you still have until August 30th to enter. But get busy now.

Wishing you a wonderful rest of the summer and fortune in your lives!

Sincerely, Susan :)

Yesterday's "To Do" List

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Sun, 02 Aug 2009 07:23:33 PDT

August 1, 2009 "To Do" List

1. Up at 4 a.m.
2. See if the well is pumping water... no
3. Wipe down face with a cold rag
4. Get tea (use bottled water)
5. Let boys out to p-p, poo-poo
6. Feed deer
7. Prepare Freckles' (my sick pigeon) food for the day
8. Get handouts for workshop
9. Get computer
10. Get driving directions
11. Get purse
12. Put Freckles in car
13. Catch ferry and head off to the PNWA Conference in Seattle to teach "Muscle-up the Midsection of Your Novel"
14. Try to sleep on the ferry
15. Try to work on the computer
16. Try to ignore Freckles in the back seat of the car
17. Quit talking to yourself
18. Deboard the ferry
19. Stop and tube-feed Freckles
20. Gun it to Seattle... in time to give your workshop at 10:30a - current time? 7:45 a.m.
21. GO!
22. Try not to fall asleep driving
23. Try not to crash, speed or fall asleep driving
24. Pull off at the correct exit
25. Find 176th Street
26. Find Seattle Airport Hilton
27. Got it
28. Park, explain bird situation, promise to return to valet services by 12:15, thank the valet who is kindly letting you park under the cabana at the front of the hotel lobby next to the valet stand... "Thank you so much!"
29. Get bearings
30. Get attache and purse
31. Find convention, find nice funny people who help lost people like me, find meeting room "Mercer A"
32. Walk in quietly and sit
33. and wait until 10:30
34. Check time... 9:39 YEA!
35. Tick tock
36. Tick tock
37. Tick tock
38. Get up and move to the front desk and set your wares down
39. Wait for previous instructor to clear out
40. Set-up your computer
41. Set out handouts, 2 copies of "Bobby's Diner," bookmarks and business cards
42. Start welcoming people into the class
43. Check time: 10:30 a.m., Go!
44. Start class
45. ...blur... blur... blur... blur... blur... blur... blur... blur... blur... blur...
46. Check time: 12 noon, Stop!
47. Find hotel lobby entrance
48. Tip nice valet, tip him well
49. Check on Freckles, "Hi punkin'! You okay?"
50. He refuses to answer but seems fine
51. Drive out of hotel
52. Find I5 again going north this time
53. Merge onto freeway without killing anyone
54. Start drive home
55. Try not to fall asleep
56. Try not to crash, speed or fall asleep
57. Pull off at Hwy 20 toward Anacortes and back again to the ferry
58. Try to make the 3:10 p.m.
59. Get into the ferry line that is backed up nearly a half-mile away from the ticketing booth
60. Resolve to the fact you might make the 5:05 p.m. ferry instead
61. Crawl to the ticketing booth
62. 45 minutes later, 3 p.m., get ticket "any chance for the 3:10p?"
63. Roll eyes at the hysterical ferry ticket seller who is clenching a sore stomach from laughing so hard
64. Crawl up to the booth for instructions on what ferry line to wait in
65. Line 6 (no room in line 4)
66. Hear car engines rumbling in line 6
67. think "what the...?"
68. See people in front start their truck
69. They move forward
70. They move forward more
71. They move forward even more
72. We're at the front of the ferry line, line #6
73. We stop
74. I wonder if I should turn off my engine
75. I decide not to
76. We move forward! Holy moly!
77. We're going to make the ferry!
78. Someone's car count was off... yippee!
79. Someone forgot how to count! Yippee!
80. Board the ferry
81. Still ecstatic and now telling everyone how ecstatic I am!
82. Flailing arms outside my window
83. Settle down
84. Check Freckles
85. Freckles is nonplussed
86. Lie seat back
87. Wrap my neck cushion onto my shoulders
88. Wake up
89. Drive off ferry
90. Friday Harbor!
91. Home again! 5:15 p.m.

More happened after that but these are the most exciting moments of my day yesterday. :)

Yesterday, in Poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Susan Wingate) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 10:27:15 PDT

A blazing one. Yesterday.
Out my kitchen window
under an ancient fir
I saw...

Crows on hot rocks basking
splayed out beaks wide gasping
charred feather fans
hold up jet-fueled bodies
on this hot summer day

Today's forecast 90F.
No AC
No pool
Makes for not one thing
anytime cool