Wicked Whispers Erotica

Sounds of the Season

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 23:10:00 +0000

Busy day today. It's the winter Solstice as well as being the third annual Global Orgasm for Peace Day . My SIL thought it was hysterical that I posted that on my Facebook page but, hey, I'm all about the Peace. And sometimes you just have to make that extra effort, know what I mean?

In addition, today is also the Fourth Sunday of Advent and tonight is the First Night of Chanukah. So, yeah, like I said: Really busy day.

Ya gotta love this time of year. Here are all these diverse holidays converging upon one another what with Christmas this week and New Year's the next and Kwanzaa the seven days between. It's cheerful. And I don't know about you, but I could use a good dose of cheerful this year what with Prop 8 and all.

For me, one of the best parts of the season is the music. My daughter prodded me to count up my holiday CDs this year and it seems I've somehow managed to amass 37 CDs of Holiday music so far with four more on this year's Christmas wish list. Which means I can start my holiday listening season on Thanksgiving and keep going through Twelfth Night--and listen to a different CD every day in between.

Ah, yes, nirvana. It's a holiday music extravaganza and I'm loving it.

And, to give you just a little taste of what I'm treating myself to, I've rounded up some videos. So grab yourself a glass of Soy-nog or mulled wine or a cup of cinnamon-chili hot chocolate (with or without the peppermint marshmallows) sit back and enjoy!

First up is Enya singing my very favorite Advent song. Okay, okay, so it's also the only Advent song I know. But I've loved it since I was a kid when it symbolized the start of the Christmas season and this is one of the prettiest renditions I've ever heard.

O Holy Night is another of my all-time favorites. But here's the Wiccan version thanks to the good folks of the Magical Circle School:

I'll be honest. I first heard this next hymn sung on The Sopranos. But, hey, I'll take my inspiration where it comes. Here's Olivia Newton John singing (a much more peaceful version) All Through the Night.

Next up, the incomparable Melissa Etheridge performs her version of O Night Divine:

And in keeping with our theme (which is Night, apparently, in case you haven't tumbled to that yet) here's Enya again with the Irish version of Silent Night...

Next, from the sublime to the ridiculous, I guess. Lucille Ball sings We Need a Little Christmas from the musical Mame

And, of course, the night wouldn't be complete without Adam Sandler's Chanukah Song. This is Part One. He's also recorded Parts Two and Three (and inspired a knock-off Part Four) but I think there's something to be said for tradition.

Finally, here's Straight No Chaser performing The Twelve Days of Christmas as only they can...

Holly Follies

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 14:54:00 +0000

Celebrating the winter holidays usually keep me busier than a one legged man at a butt kicking contest -- mainly because I'm the one legged dude and I'm expected to win. This year, I'm the one getting my tush thumped.

I'm part of two great contests (The 13 Days of Bloody Kiss'Mass and The Glowing Lights of Chanukah), have two new books out (Festival of Lights and Memory and Dream), need to prepare for three separate holiday parties (Solstice, Hanukkah and Christmas), and still haven't gotten my free read for readers done. Bad author, bad! But my head isn't cooperating and that doesn't help.

While I was scurrying around, I got to wondering...who here celebrates what? I know we celebrate Christmas, but not like Christians do, ours is the commercial Santa event with presents, Rudolph and the Bergermeister. Hanukkah is traditional with fried foods and dairy (my husband is addicted to cheese blintzes) with minimal to no toys. Solstice is a quiet night with an aromatic fire, hot chocolate and candles.

So, tell us, how do you celebrate?

A Musical is Worth a Thousand Words?

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 22:40:00 +0000

Some ideas sound better in theory. For me, this week's topic--wordless posts--is one of those ideas. I'm a writer. As a kid, I never had to be admonished to 'use your words', it kinda came naturally. If anything, I have trouble NOT using my words. So, sure, I could look at the whole topic as a challenge--and, like I said last week, I do love a challenge--but I think I'm going to settle for something a little different. I'm going to post someone else's words.

But it's not really about the words at all. I'm posting two videos of people using their celebrity and their talents for good. Plus it's kind of seasonal. So I'm killing two birds with one stone. lol!

This first video is a classic. It's the original Band Aid event Do They Know it's Christmas which, at the time, I thought was the coolest musical happening since Woodstock. Sure the hair is a trip and the girls got totally shafted, sure we have a hard time now figuring out who all these people are...some of us had a little trouble with it then, too. But everyone's heart seemed to be in the right place--and that's saying something.

Next up, is a newer offering. A musical protest against Prop 8. You know, the ancient Bards used satire as a weapon to destroy their enemies (or anyone who failed to provide them with adequate hospitality) Ah, those were the days...

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

Superstitions

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 04:55:00 +0000

So this week we're supposed to be blogging about superstitions, and damned if I know what to write. Am I superstitious? I guess that would depend on what you consider superstition. It's an interesting philosophical question because, what one person might consider superstition another might consider luck and someone else might call...oh, I don't know, tradition. Cultural wisdom. Religious belief.

I like to think of myself as open-minded, tolerant and reasonably non-judgmental so I'm not going to get into any kind of in-depth discussion of the subject. I knock on wood. I wish on stars. I don't know why I do either one. But they feel right, somehow. And, being a child of my generation, I'd say that pretty much sums up our usual modus operandi: "If it feels good, do it."

Of course, this philosophy can be taken to ridiculous extremes (just like anything else), but since both the Wiccan Rede and St. Augustine say something very similar, I figure we're in good company. And, come on now, if everyone on the planet really made an effort to harm none and love all...wouldn't the world be a much better place?

Anyway, that's what I think about that. And, having nothing further to say on the subject of superstition, I'm going to leave you with a couple of videos. Enjoy...

Unpubbed Excerpts

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 22:19:00 +0000

I know I've been spacing more than usual lately--I'm sure either Pluto or Saturn is involved in that--but I can't believe I missed our 'unpublished excerpt' week. So, to make up for it, I'm posting links to not one but FOUR unpubbed excerpts. Along with blurbs for each of the books.

Enjoy!

Iron: Nineteenth century Ireland. Blacksmith Gavin O'Malley faces a bitter choice. Will he lose his heart to the lovely fae Aislinn, or lose his soul to save her?

In The Dark: 1969 San Francisco. When world-weary vampire meets adventure-seeking hippie chick it's love at first bite. But, when their star-crossed union results in newborn, vampire twins, that's anything but groovy.

Love Among the Runes: What do a Norse god, a Dixie cup and a hot blonde have in common? They're all instruments of one man's destruction. Meet Officer CJ Maclaine, currently serving a life sentence as vassal to the Norse god Loki.

Edge of Heaven: Edge is an unlikely angel. Unable to atone for his sins, he's resigned to spending eternity in Limbo. Until he meets a miracle named Amanda.

A day for young readers

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 21:08:00 +0000

When looking for a holiday for today I found two - one celebrating operating room nurses (sort of squeamish thoughts there) and another celebrating young readers. Let's face it - very few of us would be here today if we hadn't caught the "reading bug" when we were young. One of my favorite things to do as a mother and now an aunt is to have a small wriggling body perched on my lap pointing at pictures as I read the words.

The down side is what happens when ennui settles in. My son is a perfect example. Somewhere along the line he fell out of love of reading and/or being read two - we only had the last two Harry Potter Books to go and three Lemony Snickett's when all of a sudden he lost all interest. Yesterday it all clicked. He came into the kitchen and asked who Neil Young was, simple answer: a singer. I had no idea that his English project tackling the song Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd was why the teacher wanted him to look up Neil Young. Then he quizzed me on Watergate. The moment I got to Deep Throat he got the giggles and that was that. I told him to look these things up on Wikipedia and he fidgeted and asked about movies. Of course there is the one with Robert Redford but I've no idea where to rent it let alone buy it now.

Then it hit me - kids don't want to read because they seem to think that anything worth reading is made into books. Let's take today and convince them otherwise. Remind them of the millions of books that are classics but never got a cartoon series or movie deal. Inspire a young reader today.

Another Show Jumps the Shark

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 05:17:00 +0000

I know, we’re supposed to be posting about Samhain this week...and I was planning on it, honest I was. But that was before last night. And now I’m all ticked off.

So, excuse the rant but, the thing is, there are a couple of things that really bug me. For example, people who can’t pronounce Samhain (hint, the first syllable rhymes with COW, okay?). Or, worse yet, people who clearly do know how to pronounce it—it’s on their website, right there in big, bright, Buccaneer colors—and yet they still insist on saying it so that it rhymes with Spam Pain.

It’s not an English word, all right? It’s never gonna be an English word so there’s no point in saying, "well, that’s just the English pronunciation." Yeah. Not exactly. I know English-speaking people who pronounce the French word Oui as ‘ooo-eee’. Know what? They’re wrong too.

It’s tragic, really. I only lived in Tampa for less than two years and yet that color scheme haunts me. Oh, and have I mentioned that I’m in a bit of a bridges burning mood tonight? Sad but true. However, it’s time to move on...

Worse still are people who think Samhain is a person...or a demon, or a god, or...take your pick. Even worse: the people who think witches are ugly, old hags. Or devil summoning, blood-thirsty, godforsaken evil-doers. Worst of all: the producers of once watchable television shows who just can’t help but jump that shark.

I’m talking, of course, about Supernatural. The cast is adorable, but that’s not gonna be enough to save things after last night’s episode. At least not for me.

Oh, for the good old days, for TV shows that never disappointed and television producers who were gods among men. Know what I mean?

Now, that's what I'm talking about!

A spirit of the Season?

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 00:15:00 +0000

You tell me. For years my sister-in-law has tried to grow yellow roses, inspired by the success of her mother. Jesse had rose bushes of every imaginable hue and color, but for some reason yellow roses didn't seem to work right. A few months ago, Jesse passed away from stage four ovarian cancer. In her mother's memory, my sister-in-law tried one last time to grow a yellow rose from her mother's last bush.

Despite the snow storm, the bush started to sprout, and yesterday through the snow blossoms appeared. As of today it is in full bloom. Everyone sees it as a message from her mother, "don't give up, don't forget." I agree.

What do you think?

Spine-tingling macabre

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Fri, 24 Oct 2008 01:25:00 +0000

Since I guess I missed both the last round on the senses (and the most important ones at that) and the favorite things...here's a double dose. As long as I can remember, I stayed up late to watch horror movies. I lived for Chiller Theater with Chilly Billy Cardille, Terminal Stare and more. Back then you didn't have to wait for Halloween to have good/bad/campy or out right laughable horror. I was utterly hooked whether it be science fiction with irradiated skeleton people stalking and killing hapless victims, sandy mummies trailing wrappings, pallid vampires with fake fangs dripping blackish blood, the furred face of the wolfman suffering as he hunted or the creatures lurking in swamps and lagoons.

Obviously, my parents thought I was demented. They were probably right. I still don't know why the need gripped me so hard as a child to curl up between my parents as they slept and watch horror classics on our old black and white TV. But there I sat, entranced by the images on the screen, volume turned down so low in some cases that my imagination was pushed to fill the gaps.Sleep wouldn't come until the last show flickered to a close and the Castle Keeper locked the show down for the night. Then I would slide under the covers, shivering from something other than cold.

Nightly, I made sure to have thick enough covers to slow down fang and claw, then I'd pull the covers up tight around my neck protecting my neck from marauding vampires, and last of all - I stayed steadfast to the center so no part of me could dangle over the edge for a nefarious under-the-bed-monster to grab. At one point I got so paranoid that I pushed my bed into the corner and slept with my back against the wall. Feeling somewhat smug, I told a relative who was very fond of superstition and was chided. Didn't I know that no furniture for sleeping or resting should be placed in a corner? Wandering spirits - good, capricious and evil - accumulated there in the shadows waiting for a sleeping body to possess.

Frustrated, my parents tried to stop me from my addiction. They refused to take me to see horror movies, but couldn't stop the parents of friends who caved. So I got to watch a lot of movies that were really age inappropriate given that almost every horror movie has sex in it...lol. Any one whose seen Scream knows that. Until my teens I couldn't care less about the sex, that was an annoying waste of film where the director, producer and cast could be making goose bumps creep over my skin, the fine hairs lift as though an invisible threat were lurking near and setting my nerves on the razor's edge of screaming aloud or dropping my popcorn.

No two movies got to me in my early teens the way Ghost Story and Night of the Living Dead. One was intelligent, sly with the beautiful cinematic shots and perfect acting. The other was...well...zombies. Not just the way they'd been shown in the past as pseudo-mummies stumping about bewitched (pretty much the way real zombi of voudoo lore dictates), these were shambling, unstoppable, hungry man-made demons.

To me, that set the stage for how certain tales should be told. Ghost stories always need to tell a tale, make a revelation, they are all about the setting and well thought out plotting. Zombi tales are dark, gritty and all about embracing the most primal of senses: hunger, fear, and desire.

For those readers here interested in winning a free copy of my new release (it will debut tomorrow at Aspen Mountain Press) Frights & Delights

reply to this post before Halloween with the title of your favorite horror movie. No matter if it is old and campy or new and gruesome.

More of the Same

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 22:11:00 +0000

AKA some of my favorite things, part deux.

It occurred to me as I wandered through the streets of Berkeley this afternoon that I'd gotten sidetracked in the last post and forgotten to mention a couple of things...

On the subject of going green, for example, I'd wanted to segue into mentioning last night when I ordered pizza for my daughter. Definitely a compilation of many more favorite things than you might initially imagine--starting with my daughter, although that pretty much goes without saying.

First there's the pizza. Anyone who's read Love From A to Z probably knows how I feel about that. And, as I have some character say somewhere: "Sex is like pizza. When it's good it's awesome. When it's bad, it's still pretty good." Or words to that effect, anyway.

And I can't believe I'm gonna admit this but, no, actually, I can't remember which character or which book. Sheesh. Some memory.

As is my habit, however, when such things happen, anyone supplying the correct answer--character and title--gets a free ebook, although I suspect anyone who knows my books that well probably has all the published stuff already. Hmmm...that might make things a little interesting. I might have to toss some terrifyingly new material onto the incentive pile.

But, to get back to my original point. Pizza is good, organic pizza from Bobby G's is beyond words...was that sage sprinkled all over the top of it? Whatever. Awesomely delicious and greenly delivered via bicycle messengers. How, I don't know. But I swear I am not making this stuff up. Go to Go Green Go (catchy, huh?) for details. Organic ice cream, too from Marin County's Three Twins Organic Ice Cream. Gotta love California.

So...to tally things up so far we have my daughter, pizza, sex (did that slip in there again??? oops), ice cream, green living, California, writing and hearing from readers. Yep, lots of favorites. And I ordered and paid for the pizza on-line. I love on-line anything. I'd live on-line, if I could. Like TRON. Or last Friday's episode of The Ghost Whisperer. And that would be three more favorites: on-line anything, cult-like old movies (caught the original Terminator on TV last night, too. Sitting there with my pizza and my beer) and Paranormal-themed TV shows.

Oh, and YouTube, where you can watch this clip from TRON...

And, while we're on the subject, here's my favorite scene from Terminator, possibly my favorite movie love scene ever.

Yeah, I know. Give me angsty and doomed and I'm a happy girl. Twisted, but happy.

Okay, so, I'm at the festival today and they've got a full schedule of live music on several stages and one of my favorite things is discovering new (well, new to me, anyway) local bands to follow.

Here's today's pick. I give you Diego's Umbrella:

I don't know how to describe their music--hell, according to their website even they aren't sure what to call it--but it drew me in from three blocks away. And they're almost criminally cute. I tell you, this video does not do them justice....but I had to pick this one because the song they're playing is called the Fiberoptic Elflord (he rules the cybernetic ghostworld). Hmm...can we say TRON?

So...there I was, getting my festival fix and my new band fix and loving the fact that whoever was in charge of giving out booth assignments has a seriously twisted sense of humor--this is Berkeley and it's only weeks 'til the next election so a healthy portion of booths were about one ballot measure or another (YES on 2! NO on 8! Just in case anyone was wondering about my opinion).

I especially enjoyed the fact that the 'Yes on prop GG' booth had been set up directly across from the 'No on prop GG' booth. And walking home I couldn't help noticing that most lawns seemed to have signs promoting both of the candidates running for the local city council seat. The previous council member having died very suddenly a few months ago (see this article for more info...and, btw, gotta love Quakers, too) the seat is up for grabs. One candidate is claiming to be "our neighborhood's voice" and the other is claiming to be "a leader who listens".

Hmm. One speaks for you, one listens to you. Very Zen. Maybe we should elect them both.

So, that led me to thinking of the title of this post, More of the Same. Which happens to be the campaign slogan used by the hero in Jennifer Crusie's hilarious--and very sexy--book, Welcome to Temptation.

Sigh. I wish Ms. Crusie would take her own advice. I know a lot of people really like the books she co-authors with Bob Meyer, but me, I just want what Phin was offering Temptation: more of the same.

Some of My Favorite Things

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sun, 19 Oct 2008 16:39:00 +0000

Ooh, I can't believe I almost missed posting on this topic. 'Cause, you know, blogging (or talking, writing, communicating in general) about things I like is one of my very favorite things to do...well, one of my favorite things to do in public, anyway.

What? You didn't think I wrote about sex by accident, did you?

Anyway, here's a list of some of my other favorite things--in no particular order.

Vosges Haut Chocolat Red Fire Bar. This is some seriously kick-ass chocolate. Made with ancho and chipotle chilis, cinnamon and dark chocolate it'll wake up your taste buds like nothing else. And...in honor of one of my very favorite festivals (Día de los Muertos, for those of you who haven't been paying attention) they offer this super yummy chocolate in Day of the Dead Skulls!

The only thing I find somewhat disappointing about Vosges, is that I don't know that they're organic. I've been making a very conscious effort to go green lately, so this is something of a big deal for me. BUT, not to worry because chocolatier Chris Blue has opened a store right here in Berkeley and his hot chocolate with chili and cinnamon (which tastes like a big, delicious cup of melted chocolate red-hots) feeds my triple-C craving and (despite the name) is greener than green. Also, his chocolates are the prettiest darn things you've ever seen. They're positively jewel-like. Check 'em out HERE.

And, since we're talking about jewels...yeah, that's another favorite thing. Gold is pretty, silver is nice, I've always had kind of a thing for copper...ooh, and platinum...although I think that all stems from a childhood addiction to Metal Men comic books (sorry, Mom)...but there's just something about shiny, faceted rocks that completely fascinate me.

Here's a site that I stumbled across while researching the subject of famous diamonds. Diamonds, in general, aren't my favorite stone, but this is still a pretty good site. Nice pictures. Fascinating historical tid-bits. And I am, of course, partial to the Taylor-Burton diamond (hey, what can I say? Liz and I share the same birthday and Richard and my husband are both Scorpios). But what's not listed here is another of my personal favorites: The American Star Diamond. Now, that's a rock!

You know, the reality is, I have a lot of favorite things. Too many. But, there's a festival in town today (The Sixth Annual Berkeley Spice of Life Festival) where I'll probably find chocolate and rocks and really good food and many other favorite things. So, adios, for now. I'm outa here!

The Primal Sense

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Sat, 04 Oct 2008 04:41:00 +0000

The subject of today's post, in case you didn't get it from the title (no duh) is touch. Bear with me a moment, 'cause I think I'm onto something here.

The dictionary defines primal as follows:

Being first in time; original; primeval.
Of first importance; primary.

I'd like to suggest that, as far as our physical senses go, touch fits both those definitions. It's the alpha and omega of the senses. It's what being physical is all about.

Only consider this: Before you could see or smell, before there was anything much to hear or taste--in other words, before you were even born--there was touch. Granted, there might not have been a huge variety of textures available to you, but there was definitely something, and it was everywhere.

After you're born, it becomes even more important. Sure, infants develop better when they're visually stimulated. Sure the startle reflex is an important component of the APGAR test administered to newborns (barely breathing and already we're looking to score them on something--life's a bitch). Certainly it's true that babies learn to identify their mother by smell and they're definitely smart enough to not eat anything that doesn't taste good.

But children can die from a lack of touch. Me, I'd call that important.

And, speaking of dying, even then, even when you're old and gray and losing everything else, touch will likely be the last sense that deserts you.

Coincidentally, my son (who was one of those kids who had to be held all the time as an infant) spent an hour yesterday in a sensory deprivation tank; an experience he described as awesome. I admit it sounds intriguing and were I not borderline claustrophobic, I might be tempted to give it a try myself. Okay, I'm tempted...just not a lot. Here again, I think the experience is not complete. I mean you can still reach out and touch the inside of the tank. You can touch yourself...

Hmm. Yeah, not going there tonight. Moving on now...

When you think about it, all of our senses are dependent on touch, in one form or another. We see only because light hits our retinas. We hear only when vibrations reach our eardrums. Our senses of smell and taste are dependent on physical substances coming into direct contact with the various parts of our olfactory and/or oral organs....wow, there's a tongue twister for you.

Thanks to our nerves, thanks to our epidermis (the largest sense organ in the body...actually, the largest any-kind-of organ in the body. Suggestive, no?) and thanks to a big assist from gravity, we really can't ever completely get away from touch. It truly is the most pervasive sense we have.

Another coincidence: Before speaking with my son today about his experiences in the tank, I was reading through one of my books searching for an excerpt I could use for an upcoming feature. The main character is struggling with severe aphenphosmphobia (or maybe I mean haphephobia?). Basically, she has a fear of being touched as a result of a horrific episode of 'bad touch' she experienced some months earlier.

I'd forgotten about it (I do that, I'm afraid) but I rather like what I did with this character. Because her body still craves contact, it overcompensates for the enforced lack by becoming more and more sensitized to every little sensation. She finds comfort in the touch of water against her skin when she swims, of the music vibrating through her as she dances. Even her appreciation for the silken coolness of her lingerie is enhanced.

Okay, I can see we're heading back toward dangerous ground with that one, aren't we? But I'll admit to my hedonistic tendencies. I love touch. Nothing makes me feel more alive than this most sensual of the senses.

And, now, if you'll excuse me, I've just realized it's raining. I guess it really is Autumn, after all. So, pardon me for leaving so abruptly, but I think I'm gonna go outside and feel the rain on my skin. Ahh, yes. Lovely...

Happy Fall!

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 23:34:00 +0000

This week's topic is the fall equinox, which of course means that autumn has officially begun in the Northern Hemisphere. I'm enjoying the crispy air in the mornings, though I have to say the bronchitis isn't particularly fun.

In the wheel of the year, the fall equinox has been called many things including Harvest Home, Second Harvest, and recently Mabon, among other names. Some call it the witch's thanksgiving. The fall equinox is a good time to review the goals and wishes made during the spring equinox--see what you have to be thankful for and what you still need to nurture.

I thought I'd include some recipes we enjoyed with our Mabon feast this past Sunday (a day early). We can heartily recommend all of them, tested and approved!

Autumn Butternut Squash (from www.cooks.com)
AUTUMN BUTTERNUT SQUASH (8)

1 butternut squash (2 1/2-3 lb.)

Cut squash, scrape out seeds. Steam 30 minutes or bake upside-down on foil 300 degrees until tender or microwave. Scrape out pulp and mash or beat smooth. Season with: 1 tbsp. brown sugar 1/4 tsp. salt Pinch white pepper

Core and slice Jonathan apples (6 medium), don't peel. Heat 1 1/2 tablespoons shortening in small skillet. Add apples, sprinkle 1/4 cup sugar on. Cover and simmer until tender.

NUTTY TOPPING:

3 single serve boxes cornflakes, crushed coarsely
1/2 c. chopped pecans
2 tbsp. melted butter
1/2 c. brown sugar

Spread fried apples in 8 inch square or 9 inch round casserole (1 1/2 quart). Spoon squash evenly over. Sprinkle nutty topping over and bake at 325-350 degrees until light brown.

This was crazy delicious and evocative of the season.

Sage Dressing with Amish Apple Sausage (from: http://www.ladyoftheearth.com/sabbats/mabon-festival.txt)

SAGE DRESSING WITH AMISH APPLE SAUSAGE

I make this every year for our Thanksgiving celebration, and it is delicious!
This makes enough for a 9 to 11 pound turkey. Look for a fine Amish style
sausage at gourmet or natural food groceries.

2 to 3 medium links Amish apple sausage, casings removed (see below)
2 T. butter or bacon grease
1/2 cup chopped onion
2 large cloves minced garlic
3/4 cups chopped celery
3/4 of a bag of good quality herb bread cubes for stuffing
1 cup cubed cornbread
1 1/2 to 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock/broth
1 Tablespoon dried rubbed sage (or less, depending on how much you enjoy sage)
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup dried cranberries

If you can find it, use a fine, pre-mixed sausage with apples added to it (Amish
style). Otherwise, use 2 cups of fine sausage and add 1/2 cup sautéed, finely
chopped apples to it. Sauté onion, garlic and celery in butter or grease until
softened over medium heat. Add crumbled sausage and cook until browned. Season
with salt and pepper and sage, and add cranberries. Add all undrained to the
bread cubes. Mix together, and add stock to soften, making sure it does not
become soggy: some cubes should still have dry spots. Stuff into the cavities
of a turkey ready to cook. Bake in the bird. After the meat is thoroughly
cooked, remove stuffing straightaway and refrigerate separately.

We used drippings from the turkey for stock and apple chicken sausage from Trader Joe's, and this came out a bit salty for me but the consensus was a thumb's up. We also cooked it on the stove rather than inside the bird. I would omit the salt next time, as the sausage and herbed stuffing cubes are salty enough. Otherwise, very savory and good.

We did find that buying a turkey before American thanksgiving is difficult, but not impossible, and that when all our friends chip in the resulting meal is painfully delicious!

What fall fruits have ripened in your life?

The Earth

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 20:52:00 +0000

Well I'm a day late and a week short as usual--my life has been so chaotic lately!

But I'm still here to talk about the Earth as mystical element.

While I've always considered myself to be most connected to water, I must admit in the last year or so I've been more drawn to Earth for aid in grounding and rooting my own energy. The Earth element can be associated with the north and femininity in some modern neo-pagan traditions, in other traditions the Earth is seen as our mother figure herself.

Whenever I need to rejuvenate I root myself in the ground--quite literally with a visualization of roots extending from me and hooking deep inside the ground. I wear hemetite for grounding, a magnetic element. Earth is an element to access when your life feels unstable or overwhelmed.

Earth is connected in the tarot to the coin, disc or pentacle suit. This suit is related to money, material objects, employment or some solid manifestation. Earth is often used in money or manifestation spells, burying a wish in the Earth can help create that wish (though remember, be careful what you wish for).

More important than all of that, though, is that the Earth beneath our feet is the ultimate life-bearer. I won't go all hackneyed environmental message, except to say if we kill her, we kill ourselves. No matter what we believe or what politics we adhere to, if we cannot protect the life of our home, we end ourselves in the process. A little dirt worship could do us all a lot of good.

I feel the earth move...

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Wed, 17 Sep 2008 02:29:00 +0000

I'm posting out of rotation this week, because I'm going out of town tomorrow, off to see a new corner of this week's topic: the element Earth.

As a writer, I find this element very important. I love grounding my stories in their physical settings, paying attention to all those physical details--which is one reason so many of my stories are set in California.

This week I'm traveling to the Caribbean (yes, I know, great timing--right?) a location where I set many short stories, once upon a time, and where I hope to set a great many more. Hence the research nature of this next week. I'm just hoping I can steer clear of any excessive water and air elementals in the form of hurricanes. Not my favorite form of natural disaster, by any means.

But, then again, being as I live in California, I'm rather partial to earthquakes. I like their spontaneity and their speed and the fact they rarely linger. I like the way they force you to re-think, not only your relationship with the earth, but all the many ways in which you take its stability for granted as well.

They're like so many other events in life, both good and bad: you never see them coming. And while the big quakes are, thankfully, rare, the small ones are always cropping up somewhere, it seems. Mother Earth, giving us all gentle (or not so gentle) reminders to mind our manners. We're just passing through, after all, and like any good house guest, it behooves us to leave the place at least as nice as we found it--for the sake of the next generation of visitors.

And now, in parting, here's a fun link from the USGS: Real Time Earthquake Map

I'm telling you, this site is awesome. And I don't know how they do it but they've got info online within a couple of minutes of a quake...I know, I check.

Gotta be me.

noreply@blogger.com (Melissa) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 21:17:00 +0000

When someone told me to write a romantic story featuring the undead, I immediately started thinking about a poem I had written years ago on Gothic Tears called "Hunger". Being a nontraditional type, I took the poem and made it come to life. Or should that be unlife? What else would you call an erotic tryst between Goth lesbian zombies? I called it "Rave On". They have a true "make love then war" kind of philosophy thing going that I really liked.

I've had the story appear once in print/ezine variety via Twisted Dreams but hope to have it out there again terrorizing people. Maybe as a serial or a longer story where the undead lovers battle against a pair of living people drawn to one another...Oh damn. Another good story idea I don't have time to chase ...lol.

Never Say Never--again!

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 05 Sep 2008 22:37:00 +0000

Unlike Amelia, I do write the undead--now. Vampires, to be specific. Yet another of those genres I swore I'd never write.

I must admit, I don't think much of my timing. I got into writing paranormal a little bit early-- before it was cool, before it was what every other editor was, supposedly, looking to buy. No one's talking about it yet but, I figure my chances are damn good that I've jumped on the undead bandwagon a little too late. Because, c'mon, does the world really need more vampire books? Isn't the vampire bubble just about due to collapse?

Ah, well, where's the fun in writing something that's not a challenge? And, trust me, I'm a big believer in fun.

The most entertaining part of writing vampires was in creating the 'science' to explain them. My vamps are--most emphatically--not demons. They're the result of evolution, adaptation and some lifeform/organism that originally came from outer space.

Where in outer space? I'm not exactly sure, but I'm gonna go with the Pleiades because so many of the cultures who claim to have come from the stars claim to have come from those particular stars.

Why outer space? Because it's the only thing that makes sense to me. It's kind of like the classic sci-fi movie Alien Nation. No creature with a nasty tendency to dissolve in water could have evolved on a planet predominantly made of water--they had to have come from somewhere else. And I very much doubt that creatures who burst into flame at sunrise would have lasted here long enough to reproduce.

So my vampires, who obviously hail from a dark, moist planet, can go out in the sun, but it weakens them, disorients them and, since their eyes are super-sensitive to light, all but blinds them. They prefer to settle in places like Seattle, San Francisco and London, despise the desert and aren't overly fond of salt sea air (too dehydrating). They can be seen in mirrors because why the hell not?

They don't age, but they heal incredibly quickly--a contradiction in terms until you remember that the reason we age is because when our cells reproduce it's like making a copy of a copy of a copy--eventually there'll be degradation. Vampire cells prompt the human cells to reproduce more perfectly so the original pattern is preserved.

Physiologically, I drew most of my inspiration from parasitic insects, viruses and snakes. My vamps have venom--different types. They can still eat human food, but it won't keep them alive. They hate garlic because it makes them sick. Garlic, which acts as a blood cleanser, happens to have anti-bacterial, anti-fungal and anti-viral properties. It's also been used to treat insect and snake bites.

'Nuff said.

There's a lot more I could go into, but I'd rather give you an excerpt. This is from Chapter One of In the Dark (unedited, uncontracted and subject to revision). The scene introduces Marc and Julie Fischer, twins who were 'accidentally' sired when their pregnant mother was turned. The twins have never known life as anything other than vampires--something Julie accepts more easily than Marc. Enjoy!

"All I’m saying is we have no proof," Marc Fischer insisted. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms. From the other side of their private train compartment, Julie Fischer rolled her eyes as her twin brother launched once again into what she suspected had become his favorite topic of conversation, of late—and her least favorite one. "All we’ve got is the word of two crazy old men. Just because they say we’re vampires, doesn’t mean it’s true."

Julie choked back a laugh and glanced meaningfully at the blood bag from which she’d been sipping—discreetly disguised as a juice pouch. "Well, if you don’t consider our primary food choice to be proof then I guess you have a point. But, speaking of those ‘crazy old men’ doesn’t the fact they haven’t aged for as long as we’ve known them count as proof either?"

"Good genes," Marc replied stubbornly. "So we all happen to look good for our ages. Big deal. So do a lot of other people."

"Wrong," Julie corrected. "You look good for your age. I happen to look fantastic. But, come on, Marc, be honest with yourself. We don’t just look good. We look virtually the same as we did when we turned twenty. You have to admit that’s not normal. We don’t age. We’re stronger than other people. We have fangs. We drink blood. How much more proof do you need?"

Marc sighed. "Granted, it’s all a little...unusual. But, what does it really prove, huh? That we have some weird genetic condition? Sure, I’ll buy that. But vampirism? Give me one good reason why I should believe that’s what it is. Do we burst into flames in the sunlight? Does holy water do anything other than get us wet? Are we allergic to garlic?"

"Eww." A shudder of distaste ran through Julie and she returned the now drained bag to the cooler in which it had been stored. "Do you really have to talk about this when I’m eating? That smell...just thinking about it makes me want to hurl. And, considering how sick it always makes you every time you try and eat garlic, I’d say yes, you’re definitely allergic to it."

"Ah, but it doesn’t kill me, does it?" Marc replied, sounding exactly like he thought he’d scored a point. "Lots of people have food allergies, you know. That doesn’t mean they’re all vampires."

"Lots of people would die if you cut their heads off, too. Or if you drove a stake through their hearts or set them on fire. Doesn’t mean they’re not vampires."

"Jules." A pained expression crossed Marc’s face. "That’s just silly."

"Exactly." Julie’s eyes strayed back to the book in her lap. "It’s all silly, Marc. You’re just looking for an excuse not to accept yourself for what you are. But, hey, that’s your right, I guess. If it makes you feel better to think we’re aliens, go for it."

"At least that would be a more scientific explanation," Marc grumbled.

"Uh-huh," she murmured in response, not really paying attention. The hero in the book she was reading had just sunk his fangs into his willing victim’s neck, sending a shiver of imagined pleasure racing down Julie’s spine. "Whatever. Live long and prosper, bro."

"You know what I think?" Marc asked, not waiting for her to answer. "I think you’re the one who’s looking for excuses. You want to believe we’re vampires ‘cause you think they’re hot. I mean, look at this crap you’re reading." Snatching the book from her hands, he began to read aloud. "...satisfaction gleamed in the prince’s dark eyes as he drew back and looked her over, still licking the last traces of blood from his lips. My blood, Celeste thought, her breasts rising and falling more quickly with the realization. It was her blood, her life force from which he’d been feeding and her body ached with the need to give more."

"Hey! Give that back," Julie snapped as she reclaimed her book.

Marc smirked. "Is that how feeding makes you feel? Do your eyes gleam with satisfaction when you do it? Maybe, next time you eat, you could take out your mirror and check to see. Oh, but, wait a minute— " He smacked himself in the head. "Since you’re a vampire, I guess you’re invisible in mirrors too, huh?"

Her pleasure soured by his ridicule, Julie gazed at her brother resentfully. "It’s called fiction, Marc. And if it’s got a good story and three-dimensional characters, nobody’s gonna care if it’s a little unrealistic." Although, actually, she thought, the three-dimensional part was probably optional, as well. At least where she was concerned. Just so long as the heroes were really, really hot. "Now, if you don’t mind, we’re going to be pulling into the station soon and I’d like to finish this book before then."

But although Julie’s gaze returned to her book, her attention was not so easily re-captured. Though she’d never admit to it, Marc had made one small point. Mirrors, she thought, mentally shaking her head at the absurdity. Whoever the crackpot was who’d come up with that genius idea, he had to have been a man. Imagine applying makeup or trying on clothes without being able to see what you looked like. Imagine a lifetime of bad hair days. If that were really the case, there’d be no need to invent fictional vampire slayers because female vampires everywhere would be lining up to stake themselves out of sheer frustration.

© Copyright 2008 PG Forte All rights reserved.

The Undead

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 17:25:00 +0000

This week's topic is the undead. You know, weres, vamps, zombies.

I don't write about the undead, as such.

But here I will muse about a possible undead person I want to write about. I have a character, Jason Bell. In his last adventure, he met with some unfortunate circumstances. But seeing as how Jason is entirely fictional, even within his fictional stories, I think I can get around the whole death thing. The question is how to do it?

Elaborate resurrection ceremony? Some intervention by Suki the wise woman?

My favorite idea so far, actually, is fan fiction (sadly not my idea, but still a good one)! Jason exists because authors write about him existing. His universe is because someone made it so. Questions remain unanswered--who wrote his death scene? Is he actually dead if no one wrote it? Was Katya actually writing the entire exchange to rescue Jen? Nothing was made clear at the end of Bell Curve, apart from the very real fact that Jen would probably not encounter Jason Bell in that particular guise again.

Thus Jason is, for now, dead. But you know how those fan fic writers can be. They decide something in the canon is not to their liking, they just change it. And add a lot of boy on boy action, but we'll leave that out for now. Why not have a couple of overhorny young but of age folks write a story about their favorite dead bounty hunter, magically returned to life thanks to some quirk they wrote? And why not have him show up in their world?

I don't just break the fourth wall. I break ALL the walls.

Jason Bell, not your usual kind of zombie. But he'll do.

Kinky Is As Kinky Does

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 29 Aug 2008 06:42:00 +0000

The problem I have with writing about kink is that kink is like comedy—arguably the hardest type of writing to pull off. Just like comedy, kink is individual, rather than universal. It's a matter of personal opinion, personal taste, personal preference. And, when you really come down to it, one person's kink is very often another person's vanilla.

This is a subject people tend to take personally. It doesn't matter how well or convincingly you write it, if you're describing certain activities a particular reader finds distasteful, that person is likely not gonna like what you've written—no matter how well you've written it, how accurately you've described it, or how enjoyable your characters found it to be. Sure, the same thing could be said about a lot of things, to a certain degree, but, on the other hand, there aren't that many subjects which carry the same amount of emotional, psychological or moral weight that sex does.

I guess my advice for writing kink is the same as my advice for writing in general. Write what you know, because when you get those letters detailing how you've gotten things wrong, you'll know you're right. Write what you want to read, because that way you'll make at least one reader happy. Write what you love, because life's too short and creativity too important for anything less.

On Kink

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Tue, 26 Aug 2008 19:22:00 +0000

I'm going to take this opportunity to talk about some of my kinky pet peeves.

1. No warm up. Dude, you can't just haul off and single tail someone without warm up. That is bad pain.

2. No emotional depth. While I appreciate the titillation of a club scene, BDSM is about more than just whips and chains. At least for me, tee hee.

3. A dearth of dominatrix (dominatrixes? dominatrixi?) There so few female dommes. And most of the women in charge I read about are unloving, unfeeling, and faceless. Where is the intimacy? Where is the care that male doms have in these stories?

4. Needless capitalization. Now, I realize I'm in a minority here, but capitalizing Dom/me just seems pretentious to me. I mean, they are people, not gods. And you don't even capitalize gods! Mainly I just roll my eyes when I see it.

5. Lack of lube. Butt plugs=lube, people. Not hot.

6. Lack of safe words. It just seems not right. This rates right up here with my general dislike of magical sex where condoms and birth control are not an issue. Lack of safety doesn't turn me on, it makes me worry.

7. Dominants that are dominant and alluring without any backstory or fault. It is just as vulnerable and difficult to dominate as it is to submit. I would like to see more authors address this point.

Anyone read any good kinky books lately? What irritates you?

On Kink

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 15:30:00 +0000

I want to thank the lovely women of Wicked Whispers for having us. This is a special treat and I feel honored.

“Lions and Tigers and Bears...Oh my!”

That phase has been drummed into my head ever since the age of six when I first watched and fell in love with the wizard of Oz.

Dorothy, the wholesome young teenager raised on a farm by a couple old enough to be her grandparents, raised to believe sugar and spice and everything nice was what little girls were made of...

Not so in modern day society. Today's women are pioneers, rock climbers, ball players, engineers and contractors...like the kick ass characters they enjoy reading about. Of course they can still play Suzie Home maker or if hubby prefers...the lesser...Suzie Home Wrecker in the bedroom.

Which brings me to this week's topic...KINK. Yes the dreaded word our mother's vowed never to tell us about because having sex was only for procreation purposes....

Mainstream society has been led to believe that sex is still bad and heaven forbid a woman between the ages of forty and sixty show some cleavage. There are still women who believe in the happily ever after scenario and sex behind closed doors. Try going to the underground clubs in NYC and see what you find. Then again it's in plain site in the gentleman's clubs, and corner-side bars. These are deemed pornographic in the eyes of some...but to most who enjoy a bit of fun it's considered kink...what man wouldn't want his wife or girlfriend dressed in a garter and dancing in front of him? I happen to find that extremely erotic, yet would you call me unconventional and bizarre?

Let's face it, people have fetishes, although some would call them “issues.”

It has been brought to our attention that this is what mainstream society today wants, and who says it's a bad thing? More and more people are “coming out” are beginning to loosen up and feel free again, yet they still stand to be ridiculed. Call us Romans...as long as we are enjoying ourselves why criticize?

The Romans, the Persians and Ancient Egyptians were all kinky and had sex in the open. They had gay and lesbian relationships even before we knew about it. Was it wrong? No. Is it wrong today? No. Sex is a preference, kink is having fun with it.

What is kink? The dictionary classifies it as “A bizarre or unconventional sexual preference or behavior.”

I can think of many things other then sexual preferences that are bizarre and unconventional.

In our recent release, “Librarians Don't Get Married” our protagonist Heidi Weiss is a prim and proper Librarian in the eyes of the public, but behind closed doors she becomes a wild cat who helped form a loving unconventional love fest within the boundaries of the community while remaining a pillar of the community. A place where everyone is loved and identified with a single smiley face bracelet to assure the safety and privacy of the members.

This can happen in real society, and I'm sure it does in some places. I want to know how others feel, and what your definition of kink is. Is it something you prefer in your everyday lives, do you enjoy reading about it? I'd love to hear from you.

AP Miller is a multi-published author, currently published with Extasy books and Devine Destinies.
A member of RWA, NJRW, CRW and PAN, Their most recent scifi anime series Lone Huntress is slated for television.

Guest Blogger: AP Miller

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 15:00:00 +0000

Hi all, please welcome our guest blogger for the week, AP Miller!

AP Miller is a husband and wife best selling, multipublushed writing team. They write Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, Erotica, Contemporary, Historical, Paranormal, Romantic Suspence. They are both members of RWA, PAN and it's affiliate chapters, New Jersey Romance Writer's of America and the Nevada chapter, Cactus Rose.

Andrew is a second degree blackbelt in Thai Kwon Do currently training for a championship in Muai Thai fighting. He is also a former editor and columnist who has been writing for thirteen years and counting.

Patti is a dinosaur in the field of writing and publishing, a former Senior Editor of a magazine and three publishing houses. She was first published in 1989 with her series, "Thief of Hearts." She is a freelance Journalist for several magazines, and has had the pleasure of interviewing the incredible Blueman Group.

Their scifi anime series Lone Huntress is slated for the scifi channel for animondays.

Thy reside in Las Vegas, Nevada where everyday is a party with their dogs Brutus and Elliot of are currently conspiring a plot for world domination.

Currently they are published with eXtasy Books and the sister company Devine Destinies. Their books can be found at eXtasy Books

Do You Hear What I Hear?

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 15:30:00 +0000

Probably not. Unless, of course, you're another of those writers who (mostly) do what the voices tell you.

I really do hear voices and, yeah, you should probably be afraid. 'Cept, they're generally pretty innocuous, to be honest. I've been told by several psychics that I'm clairaudient...like I didn't already know that! One went so far as to claim the voices help me when I drive--which, according to some of my friends, explains a lot!

I'm not sure how to take that, actually.

My favorite psychic encounter, however, was with the guy who mis-read the voices. He claimed they were the souls of those with whom I'd entered into agreements, prior to birth. According to him, these dozens and dozens (!!!) of souls are waiting for me to furnish them with bodies so they can reincarnate.

Dozens and dozens of children? What am I, a guppy?

Yeah, they're sooooo out of luck. They get fictional bodies--IF they're fortunate and can convince me they deserve it--and that's about it.

Seriously though, one of my favorite parts of writing is hearing those voices in my head. Another, is reading the dialogue aloud (generally reserved for late at night, or when I have the house to myself). It's a habit I wish more writers would get into because, IMO, it really makes a difference.

Yes, it's important that your words are 'scan-able' but nothing points up the flaws in your prose like hearing it read!!

But, possibly my very favorite writing techniques have to do with the way we hear--or fail to hear--what's being said. I love writing dialogue in such a way that the reader is aware of what each of the character means but the characters themselves only hear what's being said.

Recently, I've been experimenting with a little of the reverse. Writing a scene where the characters understand each other perfectly...but the reader, hearing only the words, may (I hope, if I've done my job correctly) be in for a bit of a shock.

That's it for this week. Gotta go--I think I hear someone calling me...

The Senses: Hearing

noreply@blogger.com (Amelia June) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 13:52:00 +0000

Rather than post about hearing, let's look at some examples of why hearing is such a diverse sense:

Cake--the lead singer isn't exactly the common idea of melodious, and yet listening to him sing is a unique pleasure, not to mention the trumpet that makes an appearance in every Cake song.

A good number of the lyrics in this song by Great Big Sea are totally made up words, as far as I can tell, and the speed almost makes them unintelligible. Not your common pop fare, but still the song is fun and makes the toes tap and the heart a bit lighter.

I *know* this song has made up lyrics. This is a type of music called reggaeton, popular in Latin America. It blends regge with hiphop and various other Latin musical styles. The video isn't necessarily great to watch, but the sound can keep you jamming for hours. And he's not even speaking words!

Sound can calm and inspire us, work as art and mental stimulation.

Sound can spur us to action.

These are some of my favorite sounds--what are yours?

Confessions of a Pyromaniac

pgforte@pgforte.com (PG Forte) — Fri, 15 Aug 2008 21:40:00 +0000

First the disclaimer.

It was not I who burned down my family's house the year I turned twelve. That was an unfortunate accident for which I was in no way responsible. Although I will admit that if I could have made my discovery of said fire (which started in the room right next to mine) a half an hour or so sooner--like, for example, before the flames were actually shooting through the roof and visible to passersby in the street outside--then that would probably have reduced the damage to the house considerably and saved me the loss of most of my belongings.

In spite of this, or possibly because of it, I've always had a (some might call it morbid) fascination with fire. And why not? Like all the (metaphysical) elements, Fire is immensely compelling. Its power can either kill you or save you.

Fire (for me, at least) represents passion, heat, creativity and the spark of inspiration. It's a living thing--one that eats and breathes, grows and dies. I think one of my favorite parts of Kipling's Jungle Book is the scene where Mowgli is tending to his pot of the Red Flower, feeding it twigs and leaves.

Less timeless than Water, less enduring than Earth, more substantial than Air; Fire is a transmuting force. A touch of the Divine. You know when you're been touched by fire--both literally and figuratively. The experience can be life-ending, life-altering or life-affirming.

While, strictly speaking, it is the one element that we don't literally need for our survival (most animals get by quite nicely without it, after all) still, I think our lives would be vastly poorer for the lack of it...by which I do not mean to suggest that I'm going to be adding branding to my list of preferred body modification techniques any time soon. I may have a high pain tolerance, but that's just flat-out ridiculous!

However, for your entertainment, here's an example of non-painful Fire Art. Enjoy!