Beverly Diehl's Writing in Flow

Honeymoon Haven - or Anytime Getaway

2013-06-17T05:00:00.000-07:00

Kirk McKenzie Photography
Medford, Oregon

I've always wanted to visit Mount Shasta.

And I've always wanted to spend a few nights in a luxurious Bed & Breakfast.

Preferably with a smokin' hot man who looks like my awesome photographer.

Or like George Clooney or Bradley Cooper. I'm easy.

So, on a recent road trip to Oregon, I indulged myself.

Two out of Three Ain't Bad

Cover of George Clooney

I decided that waiting until Kirk, George, or Bradley is available is ridiculous. So since I would be passing near Mt. Shasta, I looked at various lodgings, just for me. Because I'm worth it and all that jazz.

Shasta MountINN caught my eye.

I took the virtual tour and read up on the history, and fell in love.

Yes, it is also a spa. There are many different varieties of massage available. So if you've made a long drive to get there, you can get the kinks worked out, provided you schedule it enough in advance.

There are a lot of stairs. For those with mobility issues, this B & B may not be the best choice.

Comfy chairs from which to enjoy the views everywhere.


Yes, the front door is purple. The building itself is a very light cream color, with pale green and purple accents.

This is the most elegant room, with its own whirlpool bath.
Mine.

Original painting in the bathroom; to my eye reminiscent of Alma-Tadema.
When I saw this, I knew I was "home."

Plush, super-soft his-and-her robes.

Fancy showerheads for all heights.

This tub was just what I needed at the end of my long drive.

Shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, bubble bath, lotion...
All cruelty-free and delicious-smelling.

The furnishings elegant and super-comfortable.
The bedspread was velvety-soft and inviting to the touch.
The Tempur-Pedic mattress and Egyptian cotton sheets were divine.
Even had a silk pillowcase to avoid facial wrinkles (too late).

In the mood for love? Or TV, the choice was mine. DVD player, too, to watch movies I'd brought,
my morning yoga DVD, or to select one from the Shasta MountINN library.

Or perhaps reading by the fire?
If you're forgotten to bring reading material, there are plenty of books and magazines.

Need musical help getting to sleep, or waking up?
I particularly enjoyed Grateful Day by Beloved, a local artist. I've since bought a copy of her album.
If you must get on the 'Net (I did), there's Wi-Fi, too.

This was the view from my window that evening.

This waterfall and creek was also outside my window.

These super-comfy twin rockers are perfectly positioned for a view of Mt. Shasta.

Yes, a sauna. (I did not partake, but could have.)

Crystal bowls and strikers were positioned all around the house.

Guest dishes. Breakfast is provided; there is also a guest refrigerator, stove, microwave,
and barbecue for making lunches or evening meals.

In the relaxation room, you can watch TV, play the guitar, consult various divination cards,
and my favorite, get a (mechanical) calf-and-foot massage. Heavenly!

The DVD and book library. Also some cribbage boards and other games.

My host suggested that skinny-dipping in the Jacuzzi first thing in the morning was a real treat.

He was soooo right. Can you see the steam rising from the water which was the perfect temperature?

The view of Mt. Shasta in the morning was spectacular.

I hadn't even noticed when I arrived, but yes, a fire pit to gather around on a nice evening,
while enjoying the mountain and the gorgeously landscaped yard.

Black Butte - visible from two of the rooms, and the front porch.

There were no amenities missing. None. Right down to a pair of reading glasses conveniently left by the
guest book and the brochures for nearby attractions.

Breakfast was local, organic, and delicious.
Bread/toast choices included gluten-free and whole-grain.

Everything was designed to soothe and delight the senses. While it would have been delightful to share it with a compatible partner, I enjoyed it thoroughly as a solo event. My one regret is not having time for more than a super-short visit. There are only four guest rooms, so it's quite intimate, unlike a hotel or larger facility. The other couple I met over breakfast were warm and friendly and it was fun trading travel stories with them.

My host, Dave Knowles (no relationship to Beyoncé), told me that while the Shasta MountINN is open year-round, it does tend to "book up" during the main tourist season, Memorial Day to October 1. 1.530.926.1810. So reserve early.

If budget and time allow, I will certainly be back. I know some of my fictional characters are going to be visiting here in the near future. And if you are looking for a place to get away, you couldn't find anything nicer.

Have you ever been here?
Do you have any Bed & Breakfast stories, good or bad?

Help Me, Help Me - Headshot Hell

2013-06-10T05:00:00.000-07:00

Am I the only one this happens to?

Somebody whips out a camera. Photos are taken.

I do not understand who that overweight, squint-eyed, limp-haired old cow is who keeps sneaking into my pictures and substituting herself, or how she manages it.

Bitch should be teaching a course at Hogwarts, cuz clearly, she knows magick.

I know what I look like (in my mind): younger, thinner, my eyes attractively open yet without that deer-in-the-headlights look one gets when trying not to squint; my glistening, shiny hair always blowing attractive in the breeze yet never in my face. You know.

Can't get digital images of my fantasy, however. And I need some new headshots for professional purposes; for FB and Twitter and GoodReads and LinkedIn and WordPress and and and.

Though I'm a slow learner, I figured out that my usual picture gathering technique was not giving me the best results. That would be bugging a friend to take one at some social event, when s/he is half-hammered and in a hurry to just get it over with and go get a beer and meanwhile I am trying not to step in a pile of backyard dog bombs,

I decided to go with a pro.

I'd also heard you should "make love to the camera."

I opted for the next best thing.

Evidence suggests the man used a camera.
Oddly, I don't remember seeing it.
Kirk McKenzie Photography

Seriously, although Kirk is the long (6'4") lean, lanky type many of us prefer (+brenda moguez), and no longer young enough to offer a pacifier to, he is experienced, professional, and tolerated my slutty teasing with great humor and patience. I highly recommend his work to anyone in the south-central Oregon area.

And he took photos that I don't absolutely hate. Despite the fact that he had to delete about a couple hundred where I closed my eyes or mastered some other horrifying look.

So, I need help.

I need to choose one headshot photo with a light/white background.

Here's the candidates:

A - Light Background

B - Light Background

C- Light Background
cleavage cropped out

I also need a head shot to be the new "master" shot, to use on Twitter, Google+, FaceBook, Pinterest, all the places. It can be one of the three above, or it can be one of these:

D - Black Background

Me: Can you make me look like I just had the best sex of my life?
Kirk: Not with a camera.

With these next two, Kirk really liked the effect of the sun behind my head.

E- Nature

F- Nature

I am not so sure about the bed-hair look.

Nor the double chins.

I can keep the cleavage, or crop it out. (Unlike real life.)

One friend commented that shot E makes me look "friendly." Mebbe.

Aebleskivers via Wikimedia

But I want to look "friendly" in a, "I can show you an incredibly good time, either up close-and-personal, or in my sexy stories and novels," way, not friendly in a, "Ja, ja, I vill make you some aebleskivers mit jam und cream, fatten you up, ja?" way.

Though if you play your cards right, aebleskivers can be arranged.

These, below, are more what I was thinking of, in terms of the wind-blown hair. But the wild red streak in my hair ain't showing (though my bitchin' native American-made earrings are).

Both these two have the cleavage cropped out - the originals are similar to the "I" shot.

H-Nature


G-Nature

I - Nature, with cleavage
It is a slightly different shot than H,
if you look closely at the hair.

So, my friends & colleagues, what do you think? Yes, I want to look semi-professional, but I also want to look like me - having fun, enjoying (or fantasizing about) sex, and loving life.

What's your pick(s) for me?

For the light background shot? For the "master" shot?
Keep "the girls" or lose the cleavage?
Answer in the comments.
Thanks in advance for your help.

McLovin' It? Surprisingly, Yes #FlipYourMorning

2013-06-06T05:00:00.000-07:00

Recently I was invited to join a group of my SoCal Lady Bloggers at McDonald's for a tasting, nutritional info presentation, and tour breakfast. I said yes, because I love meeting and hanging with my blogsisters, plus it was just about in my backyard, but McDonald's? Really? [insert outraged tones and hifalutin' sneer here] Are you McCrazy?

There were bloggers Trina Finton, Melissa Dell, AJ Feuerman, Carolyn West, and me, plus Registered Dietician Monica Montes, publicist L.CaCera Richmond, and her colleague Elicet Vega. Plus some hungry kids and husbands.CaCerichmond

"Your group is meeting inside the crime tape." Does this bode well?

The place was filled with balloons and announcements for the new! Egg White Delight (which we were trying out). Luckily they fed us, before expecting us to digest any information.

This is what THEIR Egg White Delight Looks Like

I paused briefly in inhaling mine long enough to take a picture.
Generally, egg-white anything strikes me as bland, but it was quite tasty.
Damn straight I asked for hash browns, too.

I also had a Pomegranate Blueberry Smoothie.

I totally stole this picture from Melissa Dell's post.
She wrote an awesome post with all kinds of
nutritional tips.

I'm not much of a Tweeter, but we had it covered.

SoCal Lady Bloggers co-founder Carolyn West, Tweeting away. Like mother, like daughter.

Monica shared a lot of very good information about nutrition and several handouts, much of it centered around MyPlate.

You'll be shocked (not!) to know that Americans tend to overbuy and overeat.

Many of us were taught to clean our plates, no matter whether we were hungry or not. As a result, we need to relearn the signals of hunger and satiation rather than shoveling it in until we feel miserably overstuffed.

Part of moving towards a healthier lifestyle (not a diet) is knowing what a healthy meal should look like, both in portion sizes, and in balance.

Protein can be meat, or it can be fish, nuts, soy... Whole grains are healthier than grains that are more processed. Dairy does not have to be cow's milk - alternatives like soy and almond milk generally are fortified to meet the same nutritional standards as cow milk. There's also goat milk, and yogurt, cheese (which as a born cheesehead I crave WAY too much of.)

via HealthyKidsPlate.com

Say It With Me: "Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day."

Actually, they're all important. But people tend to skip breakfast more than any other meal, which is too bad, because a healthy breakfast speeds up our metabolism, fuels our brains, and puts us on track for the rest of our day.

Where the Egg White Delight fits in, especially if paired with a fruit smoothie, orange juice, or some raw veggies, is that it offers a quick, easy way to grab a mini-balanced meal, with less fat, calories and cholesterol and more fiber than a regular Egg McMuffin.

A regular Egg McMuffin has 300 calories 12 grams of fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, 260 milligrams of cholesterol, 780 milligrams of sodium, 4 grams of fiber, and 18 grams of protein. An Egg White Delight has 250 calories, 7 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 25 milligrams of cholesterol, 800 milligrams of sodium, 5 grams of fiber, and 18 grams of protein.

McDonald's now offers egg-white-only choices for all their Breakfast Menu choices.

As +AJ Feuerman, Queen of the #GetLeid group, said when tasting Egg White Delight, it's the perfect hangover food. I really liked mine, and will probably order it again. Especially if I am hungover.

Is it the absolutely healthiest thing you could eat? Of course not (it's a full third of recommended daily sodium, for one thing); but if you are too rushed to make breakfast at home, it is far healthier than skipping breakfast altogether and just doing coffee.

For more ideas on eating healthy, follow this link for a tip sheet.

So, we were fed, we were eddicated... on to the tour...

What Lurked Behind The Counter at McDonald's

Everyone was required to wash their hands coming into the kitchen areas. Everyone, even including us visitors, who weren't going to touch anything. Employees who used the restroom are required to wash their hands in the restroom, again when they come into the kitchen, and then periodically while in the kitchen. (There's a timer for that. More on that later.)

A few at a time, McDonald's manager Yaretd (who looked about 16 and adorable, with braces, but who was a 14 year employee) led us on a tour of her operation.

I am only surprised I did not exit with a "use or dispose of by" date sticker on me, because EVERYTHING is marked with one. Syrups for the McCafe's and other drinks? Stickered. Refrigerated products like cherries and chocolate chips for the McLatte's? Stickered. Cases of frozen hamburger patties? Stickered.

As far as prepared foods, everything has not a sticker, but a timer. XX much time for deep fried items like hash browns, fish patties, McNuggets. (Oh, and French fries. I was happy to see that the Happy Meals now still give kids fries, but a MUCH smaller container and a packet of apple slices, as well.)

Once food is prepared, there's a timer for how many minutes it can wait in the warming bin before being discarded. Yaretd uses a sophisticated computer system that tells her the number of hamburger patties sold between time A and B on the previous Sunday. Factoring in other conditions like weather, sporting events, etc., she then determines if the staff will prepare the same, fewer, or more burgers in the same time frame.

After they are cooked, the food handler (wearing disposable gloves in addition to all the hand-washing) uses a device to sprinkle a pre-measured amount of salt & pepper on each burger. (You can special order them without salt & pepper, if you prefer.) They are then placed in a tray that is slotted into a warming area, where the assembly handlers will add lettuce, onions, tomatoes and condiments as the burgers are ordered. Handlers who handle cold items only wear different gloves than those who handle hot foods.

So, you do the math. There's a timer for the drive-through, to make sure the customers have their orders taken within XX minutes, and another to make sure the order is filled within YY minutes. Each food has a timer for cooking, and another timer for when it will be disposed of. Then there are timers to indicate when the staff must wash their hands again.

This means there are, like, a billion timers in every McDonald's. If you had an abnormal fear of timers, working at McDonald's would be akin to a Herpetophobe scoring a job at the zoo's Reptile House.

Part of the "swag bag" I received.
I will always think of McD's when I think of timers now.

So, more interesting and informational - and tasty - than I expected. That'll larn me to be a snob! Btw, I was not required to write or Tweet or do anything in return for this post. Sharing because I want to.

Have you tried using MyPlate?

Have you ever worked in or toured a fast food restaurant?

Have you tried an Egg White Delight yet? What did you think?

Slut of the Month: Anne Boleyn

2013-06-03T05:00:00.000-07:00

Portrait of Anne Boleyn, Henry's second queen;
a later copy of an original painted
in about 1534 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

If Anne Boleyn were alive today, she'd be celebrating her 512th birthday around now. Or would it be her 506th?

We don't know exactly when Anne's birthday was, nor even the year, for a certainty. Put together with her mercurial personality, being a Gemini fits her.

We do know she was crowned on June 1, 1533.

People either loved her, or hated her, and of course, in the end her husband the King decided he hated her and had her head chopped off. This probably discouraged friends (those few remaining who had not, also, had their heads chopped off) from sharing any fond reminisces. But from all accounts, even those of her enemies, Anne was acknowledged to be charming, multi-talented, and extremely witty.

Cunning Linguists, A Family Tradition

Anne Boleyn's mother was a Howard - the equivalent today would probably be Princess Anne's children, the Philips, in England. Not near enough the throne to claim it, but closely related. Her father Sir Thomas Boleyn (later Earl of Wiltshire and Ormond) was a well-respected diplomat with a noted gift for languages, though descended from merchants and commoners.

There were three surviving Boleyn children: Mary, George, and Anne. Every courtier wanted a place for his/her children at, well, Court - ideally his/her own; if not, a foreign court. Court gave the kids the best opportunity to marry up (and/or get into trouble). Which in the end, all the Boleyns except patriarch Thomas did.

Mary was born about 1499/1500, and sent "into service" when England's 18 y.o. Princess Mary Tudor was shipped to France to marry King Louis. When the elderly Louis kicked off and Mary secretly married hot 'n sexy Charles Brandon and returned to England, Mary Boleyn stayed in France with Queen Claude's retinue, and was joined by her younger sister Anne.

Anne had been sent into service with the Archduchess Margaret of Austria in 1513, and arguments about her age center around a letter she wrote to her father dated 1514.

Some historians argue that girls were not generally sent into service until age 12-13, and that the writing of the letter is much too mature for that of a 6-7 year old. Others argue that the misspellings and grammar errors show Anne was a very smart but very young child when she wrote it. Then there's the testimony of those at her execution in 1536 that she was "not yet 29 years old." They also point to the fact that all references to Anne by the Archduchess Margaret and others refer to her being "well-spoken and pleasant for her young age," and the references to Anne at the French Court as being very young. If she was the average age for a maid in waiting, why would there be any remarks about her age? Anne returned to England about 1521, at that point very French in her speech, manner, and dress, however old she was.

This was following her sister Mary, who had garnered a reputation of being not only pleasing to King François of France (and others), but would shortly prove also pleasing to King Henry VIII of England. Contrary to the book and movie The Other Boleyn Girl, Mary and Anne were never in direct competition for Henry's affections. (But women talk, especially sisters. Did it create a fascination in Anne's mind about Henry - or a resolve to stay the hell away from him?)

After joining the English Court, Anne would fall in love with Henry Percy, heir to Northumberland. The young couple planned to marry, although both Anne's parents and Percy's had other plans.

Henry's right hand man, Cardinal Wolsey, broke up the match. Was it at Henry's instigation, because he was already lusting after Anne, or because Percy's parents asked him to? In any event, Anne never forgave Wolsey, and legend is she openly vowed to have her revenge upon him, were it ever in her power.

You Wouldn't Like Him When He's Angry

At some point, at least by around 1525, Henry developed a crush on Anne Boleyn. She put him off. Coyness? Distaste for taking her sister's leavings (along with zero incentive for becoming a discarded, humiliated and penniless mistress like her sister)? Playing safe, and hoping that with enough time and space, Henry would lose interest? Did Anne also fall in love with him?

However she felt, pissing off a King, on whom your entire family is financially dependent, is never a smart career move. Somehow, Anne kept Henry at arm's length for nine years as his Great Matter dragged on, protesting she was not good enough to be his wife, but too good to be his mistress. How, we don't know.

We don't even know beyond written descriptions what Anne looked like. Yes, there are portraits, but most are copies of copies of possible portraits of Anne. I even recall a children's cartoon depicting a decapitated Queen Anne as a blonde. Fail.

Via Wikipedia:

The Venetian diarist Marino Sanuto, who saw Anne when Henry VIII met Francis I at Calais in October 1532, described her as "not one of the handsomest women in the world; she is of middling stature, swarthy complexion, long neck, wide mouth, bosom not much raised... eyes, which are black and beautiful.

Simon Grynée wrote to Martin Bucer in September 1531 that Anne was "young, good-looking, of a rather dark complexion". Lancelot de Carles called her "beautiful with an elegant figure", and a Venetian in Paris in 1528 also reported that she was said to be beautiful.

Did she have six fingers, a large wen (mole) on her neck? Probably not. She might have had a "show" of extra nail upon one finger of her left hand, which she may have contrived to disguise by inventing the hanging "Boleyn sleeves." She may have had small moles here and there.

If she was as scary looking as her enemies later claimed, would even the most desperate King really fall for her? It's not like she was the only young woman at court.

Anne was young, she was pretty, a talented musician, a great dancer, quick-witted, and boinggg!, she turned him on. The King was married to a sickly, aging, devout (some would say, boring) woman - whom once he'd dearly loved, true, and had barely cheated on at all. But Catherine of Aragon was now well past her childbearing years, after delivering several stillborn children and one son who lived 52 days. The only survivor was one undersized, puny - if highly intelligent and sensitive - daughter, Mary. A daughter was like having no children at all.

In hindsight, seeing that Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn's daughter Elizabeth became one of the most brilliant monarchs ever, there were a couple of Stuart queens who at least didn't blow up the place, later there was Queen Victoria, and our modern-day Queen Elizabeth II, this fear of a female monarch seems laughable. But in English history up until in Henry's time, the one and only time a Queen had tried to claim and rule England, Empress Matilda, it resulted in a bitter civil war.

Henry amused people mightily as he swore it was all about his conscience, pricking him as to the illegality of his marriage, that he wished with all his heart to keep Catherine as his wife. Henry resolved to sacrifice his personal desires and remarry for the good of England. One suggestion made was that if the Queen would only retire to a nunnery, their daughter Mary could be declared legitimate (since the marriage had been made in good faith), and this would allow the King marry again and beget more children.

Catherine? Catherine of Aragon, there's a call from the convent for you.

Young Catherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VIII
of England, by Michel Sittow. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
As opposed to how she's often been portrayed,
Catherine was originally a strawberry blonde,
never a "dark Spaniard."

Catherine did not feel "called" by God to be a nun. She felt certain the call she'd gotten was to be Henry's wife and Queen, which was an equally holy calling. Surely his infatuation with the younger Boleyn girl - like his infatuation with Bessie Blount, and the older Boleyn girl - would pass. These passions always did.

So, apparently, felt Pope Clement VII, who was much beholden to Catherine's powerful nephew, Charles of Castile. Or perhaps the Pope, having heard rumors of Catherine's less than stellar health, thought she would die, or that Anne (who came close in 1528 with "the sweating sickness") would die, or that Henry would die, and that way, the situation would not be his problem to worry about any more.

In fact, somebody did die, eventually. The Pope. (In 1534.)

There's an anecdote of Catherine and Anne (who was, officially, Catherine's maid of honor - awkward!) playing cards together. After Anne drew a lucky card, "You will not stop till you have your King, Mistress Anne," Catherine is reported to have said.

The infatuation did not pass. Henry became more obsessed with having Anne as wife and Queen, and to hell with the Pope. After appointing his own replacement as Archbishop of Canterbury with approval from Pope Clement VII, Henry next formed his own Church with himself at the head, blew the Pope off altogether, and married Anne towards the end of 1532/beginning of 1533.

Elizabeth, expected to be a Prince, was born on 7 September 1533. Following her half brother Edward, her cousin Jane Grey (the Nine Days Queen), and her half-sister Mary, Elizabeth would reign for nearly 45 years.

While some think Anne and Henry were sexually involved long prior to Anne's pregnancy with the baby who would become Elizabeth, the fact that Anne regularly became pregnant after Elizabeth's birth would suggest that whatever intimacies Henry and Anne had been enjoying, they weren't the Full Monty.

The English People Weren't Anne Fans, Back in the Day

Good Queen Catherine had been a fixture for decades; the people loved her. They looked on Anne as the archetypical scheming bimbo, seducing a man away from his loyal, aging wife. At Anne's coronation parade in May 1533, the people were reported to be notably unenthusiastic.

She gave generously to the poor, she patronized artists and scholars... still not won over. Plus there was the whole change in religion thing. While Anne was not a Lutheran, per se, she was a reformer and intellectual, and it was with her inspiration/instigation that Henry VIII broke with Rome and set himself up as head of the Church in England, with severe punishment and executions for those who wanted to hold to their old faith.

Anne was also rumored to have an extremely sharp tongue that she fiercely wielded on anyone who ticked her off - and after she became Queen, most people ticked her off. Stress? Post-partum depression and mood swings from the failed pregnancies? Problem was, she also used that vicious tongue on Henry. Smooth move, not.

Why Did Anne Lose Her Babies?

English: Henry VIII and his second wife, Anne Boleyn. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

One theory I've read is that perhaps Anne was Rh negative. Women who are Rh negative, when partnered with an Rh positive spouse (most people are Rh positive), may bear one healthy child, and following this, their body may reject subsequent fetuses, usually early in pregnancy.

Another theory floated in a new book called Blood Will Tell, is that Henry may have had a condition called McLeod syndrome, with Kell positive genes. A Kell-positive father impregnating a Kell-negative mother (the norm) would cause late term stillbirth or miscarriage in any Kell-positive offspring after the first, while the rare Kell-negative offspring would be spared. Late term stillbirth occurred regularly to both Catherine and Anne. McLeod syndrome could also explain Henry's psycho and paranoid personality later in life, and his rapid physical degeneration after age 40.

But as anybody in Henry's court would have agreed, lack of healthy babies was never a King's fault.

Beheading is a Rather Extreme Cure for a Nagging Tongue

When Anne was arrested and tried for adultery and incest with her brother, she began to win some sympathy. Her enemies had gone a bit too far to paint her as an unspeakably evil woman. She received a show of a trial, but most of the evidence brought was so ludicrous, such as that she had engaged in intercourse with this courtier when she'd just given birth, or with that one at that palace when the whole court was miles away at another, that many former enemies began to root for the underdog.

Henry was impatient to marry another woman (Jane Seymour). He'd already tried to go the annulment/have the Queen gracefully retire route with Catherine, and look how that had ended, dragging on for nine years. It was too bad that he had to have some of his favorite courtiers executed as Anne's accused adulterous partners, but they'd probably have made him feel guilty, hanging around and looking at him, anyway.

So... it's good to be King. All parties were found guilty, just as the King expected. He'd even sent for the executioner before Anne's trial began. Off with her head, and on with the next marriage, which lasted 18 months and ended with Jane's death following childbirth with Prince Edward. This was the last child Henry would have (if not the last wife).

The following video samples most of the actresses who've portrayed Anne Boleyn in the last century or so: Merle Oberon -- Private Life of Henry VIII (1933); Elaine Stuart -- Young Bess (1953); Vanessa Redgrave -- A Man for all Seasons (1966); Genevieve Bujold -- Anne of the Thousand Days (1969); Dorothy Tutin -- The Six Wives of Henry VIII (BBCTV) (1971); Charlotte Rampling -- Henry VIII & his Six Wives (1972); Barbara Kellerman -- Henry VIII (1979); Oona Kirsch -- God's Outlaw (1986); Julia Marsden -- The Six Wives of Henry VIII (2001) ; Jodhi May -- The Other Boleyn Girl (BBCTV) (2003); Helena Bonham Carter -- Henry VIII (ITV) (2003); Natalie Portman -- The Other Boleyn Girl (2008); Natalie Dormer -- The Tudors (TV) (2007/ 2008).

My personal favs are Genevieve Bujold and Natalie Dormer, because to me, they seemed best to capture Anne's elusive fire and powers of attraction, but there's no right or wrong way to portray Anne Boleyn (except as a blonde).

There are many wonderful books and movies about Anne and Henry. The story fascinated people at the time, and still haunts us today. How could a man fall so deeply in love with a woman that he would overturn Church and Kingdom for her? Then barely three years after marrying her, have her executed on trumped up charges?

I also recommend, for those fascinated by the tale who've read the "usuals" (Ives, Fraser, Erickson, Barnes, Plaidy, Lofts, Weir), two novels that present very different spins on the story: Threads by Nell Gavin, and Suzannah Dunn's The Queen of Subleties (links are to my GoodReads reviews). Just out by Susan Bordo, a historical and cultural look at how Anne Boleyn has been selectively portrayed as filling whatever role someone has needed: The Other Woman, The Mother of the Reformation, a Seductress, a Martyred Heroine... from The Creation of Anne Boleyn:

Anne the real women may have been silenced by Henry, but her restless spirit refuses to remain quiet, as she uses our shifting fancies, fantasies, and anxieties to write and rewrite her story over the centuries.

Past Sluts of the Month:

Future Slut of the Month Candidates:

Mae West
Joan of Kent
Cleopatra
Sandra Fluke
Morgan le Fey
Aspasia
Madonna
Liz Taylor
Dorothy Parker
Kassandra of Troy
Tullia d'Aragona
Marie Antoinette
Lillie Langtry
Eleanor Roosevelt
Rhiannon
Shelley Winters
Mary, Queen of Scots
"Klondike Kate" Rockwell
Catherine de Medici
Lucrezia Borgia
Umrao Jaan
Sarah Bernhardt
Cher
Eleanor of Aquitaine
Theodora (wife of Emperor Justinian of the Byzantine Empire)
Jeanne d'Arc
Margaret Sanger
Hwang Jin-i
Coco Chanel
Isadora Duncan
Sappho
Joan of Kent
Dorothy Dandridge
Catherine the Great
the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown
Eva Perón
Susan B. Anthony
Natalie Wood
Diana, Princess of Wales
Joycelyn Elders
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Mata Hari
Lady Gaga
Malala Yousafzai

Do you think Anne Boleyn got a raw deal - or what was coming to her?

Have you watched The Tudors or other fictionalized retellings of these stories?
Do you have a favorite Anne or Henry story?

Sex, Drugs,and Rock 'n Roll on the Cali-Oregon Border

2013-05-30T05:00:00.000-07:00

If you live in SoCal, like me, and have reasons to travel north, like me, you're going to spend some time in airports or driving north.

While airports are always fun (not!), I prefer to drive. You get to visit, or at least pass through, all these wonderful hole-in-the-wall towns. You get to enjoy some amazing skies.

Hey, YOLO (You Only Live Once.) Which is also the name of a small but mighty agricultural county north of Sacramento.

When I passed through Hilt, California (and unless you're stopping to buy liquor, pretty much everybody passes through Hilt), I immediately thought of Sex. Because "hilt" is one of the nouns-turned-verbs currently popular in steamy romance, referring to an act of insertion, not of your standard sword sword. (Work with me here.)

Plus, I'd spent the night in one of the most romantic, luxurious and beautiful B & B's ever (more on that later) where I have to admit, returning with a partner is high on my to-do list.

Speaking of high, despite the lack of THC I was feeling quite happy about the odor and feel of the heavenly lotion the B & B had to offer.

I liked the original, but am planning to try the vanilla/plum, too.

Which brings us to Drugs, er, Weed.

Weed, California, which I passed through prior to Hilt, is home to almost 3,000 people, and the inspiration for countless varieties of "I ♡ Weed" T-shirts. Weed is a lumber town near Mt. Shasta, and more than than 50 miles from the ocean.

Therefore, seagulls.

Probably if I was high on Drugs this would make more sense.

Southern Oregon, of course, boasts Talent. In between Ashland (Shakespeare Festival, hippies) and Medford (We've got an airport!), Talent rocks on with its population of almost 6,100. Because you can't have great Rock 'n Roll without Talent. (All right, I hear you groaning.) Talent, Oregon does host recurring art and music festivals.

Not enough rock for you?

How about The Crystal Room? Located in Mt. Shasta, California, exploring the eight rooms was like exploring a set of caves, one feeding into another, branching back and taking a different turning, all filled with sparkling stones and incredible art.

Raw stones, carved stones, polished stones...

This stone particularly drew me, something Van Gogh-ish about the colors.
Was out of my price range, however.

Yes, this gorgeous crystal is about three feet tall. And the edges are smooth, soapy and inviting to the touch.

Another smooth, colorful, inviting work of art.

There were big sparklies, and little sparklies.
And singing bowls.

Art with a combination of mediums.

Rock petals? Why not?

Feeling overwhelmed? The staff advised me to sit and center on this pyrite stool.

I was invited to touch and hold and fully experience all the stones and art. This piece blew me away.

I might also mention that hanging out with my awesome son and his terrific friends was a contact high in and of itself.

Picture at left taken during a day at the Family Fun Center (arcade, batting cage, mini-golf) where I actually put the bat on the ball for the first time in many years, followed by bowling, followed by dinner out, followed by...

I have so many ideas and so much inspiration for things I want to write!

More to come on my adventures at Mt. Shasta, Crater Lake - and I need your help with my head shots!!

Do you prefer flying, driving, or taking the train?

Got any good road trip adventures?

Thank You, All Who Served

2013-05-27T05:00:00.000-07:00

In honor of all the men and women who have honorably served our country, many of whom I've been privileged to know or have in the family.

Walter Diehl - my grandfather
WWI

Harvey Diehl - my father
WWII

from Rail & Wire
Irma Diehl, my grandmother. also served as a chaplain during WWI

Bill Koschin, US Navy my uncle, and
Betty Koschin, US Coast Guard,my mother
WWII

You may question some of the wars and conflicts the USA has decided to embroil herself in - I know I do.

Both my bros-in-law served in Vietnam, a war in which we now look back and ask, WTF?

Likewise, Iraq. Likewise, many of us are looking at Afghanistan and wondering if we shouldn't just get the hell out now, because what are we really accomplishing, right this minute?

But the men and women who volunteer for the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines, and Coast Guard, don't get to choose where they go or what they are assigned to do. They go where our elected representatives send them, and they deserve our support.

Know who else deserves our support? The women (and men) who are currently being raped and sexually assaulted in the military, who subsequently have their careers ruined if they dare to report their rape, while the RAPISTS are promoted and praised.

We'd all (myself included) rather wave our flags and believe a) it's a small problem, only a few outliers, and b) it's not something we civilians can do anything about.

Please consider watching this movie - it's now available via DVD and streaming video.

Those who rape like nothing better than "nice" people who would rather not discuss unpleasant subjects like rape. That's a big part of why they get away with it. So talk about it. E-mail your elected representatives. We can do something about it.

This Memorial Day, among the picnics and barbecues and beach trips and Special! Sales! Events!, and whatever else you are doing, please take a few moments to remember and honor the veterans who were willing to put their lives on the line for the U.S.

Did you or your loved ones serve?

Your thoughts?

Mas-tur-BA-tion! Can Be Fu-un

2013-05-20T05:00:00.000-07:00

Birds do it, bees do it... well, maybe not the birds and bees. They don't really have genitals the way humans and chimps do, and they don't have hands.

Not that lack of hands stops some creatures from showing themselves a good time. If you have a male dog, and he has a "lovey" object, be it a stuffed animal, wadded up blanket, your leg, or an actual dog sex toy, you know what I'm talkin' about.

More than 70-80% of women masturbate, and 90% of men masturbate. And the rest lie. (Joycelyn Elders)

So why does the thought or discussion of many sex acts, but especially, masturbation, make people want to get on their high horse and giddyap out of there?

We Can Do It - We Just Can't Talk About It

We feel embarrassed - maybe we were taught it was very, very bad. So we hide behind slang and euphemisms.

For gentlemen, we seem to go hard on the animal metaphors:
Choking the chicken, cleaning your rifle, corking the bat, cranking the shank, cuffing the carrot, fisting your mister, flogging the log, flute solo, jerkin'the gherkin, manual override, painting the pickle, pocket pool, polishing the banister, polishing the rocket, pounding your flounder, pumping the python, spanking the monkey, teasing the weasel, wonking your cronker, yanking the crank... These are only a few of the terms.

For the ladies, our taste is more for food metaphors:
A night in with the girls, auditioning the finger puppets, checking for squirrels, clam bake for one, drilling for oil, fanning the fur, fingerpainting, flickin' the bean, muffin buffin', paddling the pink canoe, polishing the pearl, riding the unicycle, rubbin' the nubbin, spearing the bearded clam, squeeze the peach, strumming the banjo, tickling the taco, tossing pink salad... (And yes, there's more.)

I'm Doing It For You, Honey - Masturbation Can Improve Your Partnered Sex Life

Why masturbation can be good for women, from Web MD:

Women who masturbate on a regular basis learn what feels good for them, Segraves says. "It helps build sexual confidence," she says. "It helps you guide the partner when you have a partner.”

You can say, for instance: "Please put your hand here," and not be embarrassed, she says.

Women who use a vibrator during masturbation tend to have better sexual functioning with a partner, Herbenick says.

Sex therapists typically recommend masturbation for women who have a difficult time reaching orgasm. It can help them learn about their body and feel less self-conscious.

"We know that women compared to men have a harder time learning to orgasm," Herbenick says. Masturbating can help, and masturbating with a vibrator may help even more, she says. "Using a vibrator, for reasons we don't understand, helps women orgasm." The survey is published in the Journal of Sexual Medicine.

Those who used a vibrator, she found, even if it had been a year since the last use, "had better sexual functioning in terms of vaginal lubrication, desire, arousal, and ease of orgasm, and they tended to have less pain or discomfort during intercourse."

Why masturbation can be good for men, from Web MD:

For various reasons, solo sex can be a real boon to sex with a partner. It helps teach men about their own sexual response -- what feels good to them and what doesn't -- so they will be better able to explain to their partners just how they like to be touched. It helps men learn to recognize the "moment of inevitability" just before orgasm and helps teach them how to avoid premature ejaculation. Perhaps most significant, it's a great coping mechanism for any man whose partner is temporarily unavailable for sex -- because of absence or illness -- or has a sex drive that doesn't quite match his own (something sex therapists call a disparity in frequency preference).

There are a small handful of ways that masturbation can be harmful. If we masturbate so often it becomes, basically, our day job - we frequently turn down social invitations so we can stay home "playing one-handed poker," this is a problem. Or if we are partnered, and come to look at soloing as better and preferable to interacting with our partner, rather than a supplementary activity.

An erotic activity that takes a huge amount of partner trust is to masturbate while our partner watches us, and vice versa. It can be hard, pun intended, to add this to our couples' repertoire, but with the right partner, it is SO hot.

While masturbation will not give us any diseases, can't get us pregnant, and won't grow hair on our palms (unless we get our Rogaine and lubricant mixed up), we can, if masturbating to excess, develop a skin irritation, especially if our hands or other objects are not clean. When in doubt, always consult a medical professional.

Speaking of other objects - while spontaneity and using what we find around the house can be exciting, we need to be very careful about what we insert in our various orifices. There are hundreds of sites showing x-rays of weird items people stuck "up there" and had to go to the emergency room to have removed: keys, flashlights (searching for the keys, maybe?), perfume bottles, light bulbs, matchbox cars...

The Objects of My Affection

from gurl.com

While some men are perfectly happy with a Kleenex and some hand lotion, maybe an adult flick on the TV or computer, many women, like me, like to use a vibrator. Vibrators come in all shapes and sizes, including some that look like a lipstick or mascara and many that can be recharged with a USB connection. Even a Hello Kitty model which is about the last thing that would ever "do it" for me, but I'm tryin' not to judge...

I live in drought-prone California, so I feel too guilty to enjoy a long, luxurious showers. But if you live in an area where water is abundant, a good handheld shower massager could become your new best friend.

There are a variety of sex toys for men, too, from textured sleeves to artificial vaginas and vibrating rings. And nipple clamps and lubricating lotions and butt plugs and "eggs" for both sexes, if that's something we'd like to play with. Much better than a matchbox car.

We can visit an adult novelty store in person (I love The Pleasure Chest!) - go solo, with a partner, or with a friend - or, if we feel too shy or are too busy to go in person, buy online.

Self Serve Toys comes highly recommended by a girlfriend. They offer video advice on buying your first sex toy, and can even help you choose eco-friendly products.

Adam&Eve has a wide selection, too. You can even buy sex toys on Amazon, for cryin' out loud. Get your 50 Shades of Grey and your toys at the same time. (Actually, don't get 50 Shades. If you want good erotica, try Eden Bradley/Eve Berlin, Roni Loren, Maya Banks, Roz Lee, Sylvia Day, and Anaïs Nin, instead.)

My friend Chris Lam of What I Run Into pointed me to this pretty pink cartoon, about my own favorite toy, the Magic Wand. *can't help smiling* One of my boyfriends dubbed mine "The Jackhammer," and I chortled out loud to see that this artist uses the same name for it.

Please go to Oh Joy Sex Toy for the rest of this hilarious illustrated product review.
Very NSFW (Not Safe For Work)

We're Not Only the Talent, But The Casting Agency, Screenwriter, and Director.

When we masturbate, we can go for a fast and dirty O, or we can seduce ourselves. Bubble bath, candles, glass of wine and soft music... Because we're worth it.

It's like we're making our own adult flick, with ourselves as the star... only without the cameras. Most women and men like to fantasize when they masturbate. Relive a particularly exciting moment between the sheets (or where ever it was.) Think of somebody who makes you tingle.

Cover of George Clooney
Soooo hot, IMO

Cover of Queen Latifah
So beautiful. If I was gay or bi...

You like men in uniform? Two (or more) at a time? Role playing?

There is no "wrong" fantasy. Why not try something we wouldn't normally do, and pay attention to how it makes us feel. If we're used to making love quietly, we can make some noise. If we have a partner who likes us noisy (I had one partner who wanted so much dirty talk I felt like I was doing a running commentary on Sport Center), we can try hushing up the sound effects.

We can read something sexy and masturbate, or watch some p0rn (there is, actually, a fair amount produced for the couples or women's market). The beauty of masturbating is that we are in total control.

We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation. (Lily Tomlin)

Life is too short not to love ourselves.

R.I.P. Chrissy Amphlett

Did you learn anything new here today?

Do you have your own toys?
Got any to recommend?

Devotee Romance - Interview with Ruth Madison

2013-05-14T03:00:00.000-07:00

I first met Ruth Madison through the Romantic Friday Writers group, and the romance and sensuality in her short snippets blew me away. Through her, I've learned about a whole new world, that of able-bodied men and women who are romantically drawn to those who have physical disabilities.

In a romance universe that includes interspecies love (human/werewolf), interracial love, and BDSM love, isn't the most important part of the equation the word love?

1) Devoteeism. This sounds like an Eastern religion, with chanting and incense. What is it, and do you have any estimates on how many devotees there are - either in numbers, or as a percent of the population? One in twenty/in a hundred/a thousand...?

It does sound like that! Such a dumb word, but somehow the one that got attached to us. Not that there are any better words that I've heard. The first thing people tend to say when you say "Have you ever heard of devotees?" is "You mean like Krishna devotees?" And no, I don't. I guess the word came about because someone liked the rhyme of "amputee devotee" and it used to be thought that there were only devs of amputees. Now we know that's not true. I've also heard the word "admirer." I don't know, they all make it sound like we're zombies, slavishly obsessed.

So right, to answer your question, a devotee in this context is a person who is attracted to people with physical disabilities. The distinction of physical disability is important here. Devs are not people who are preying on people with diminished mental facilities who might be unable to understand or consent to a relationship.

There's no telling how many of us there are. People usually start having these feelings as teenagers (though I was a young child when I started experiencing it) and it tends to be a source of guilt, fear, and secrecy. There are very few people who are going to willingly come forward and say that they are a dev. There are also probably many who know that they like books about disabled heroes but they don't know or think about why. I don't think we'll ever know how many there are.

2) Would you consider devoteeism a preference (like I prefer dark-haired men, but will date blonds or redheads), a fetish, a kink, or a perversion? Is there a spectrum, that for some people the erotic need for disability is stronger or weaker than for others? Are there people who are "locked in" to a particular disability - for instance, they would date a man with cerebral palsy, but never a blind man?

I do like to use the hair color example a lot to explain it. It helps non-devs kind of begin to get the idea, but it is a lot more complicated than that. There is an enormous variety in the experience of devness. For some people they are not able to be turned on by anything that does not involve disability. To me, that's a fetish. But a lot of people don't like to use that word. It has the connotation of being something so freaky and inhuman in a way. Also I know some people think that fetish happens because a person is so promiscuous and wild that normal sex no longer satisfies them. That is not at all true of devs and from other fetishes I've examined, I think that's very rarely the case.

The hair color example falls apart because there is a power dynamic issue that's going on in a relationship between a non-disabled and a disabled person. That has to be acknowledged and worked through. I don't think it's always the case that the person who doesn't have a disability has more power. It really depends on the couple and the situation. But I know there is a concern particularly for women who have disabilities that the power dynamic with a non-disabled man could be very skewed.
The thing that devs most want you to know is that they are interested in the whole person. Just because they are physically drawn to someone because she is an amputee doesn't mean that they aren't paying attention to the rest of the girl as well. There are a few devs who have some kind of social disorder and are not able to treat human beings with respect, but I am absolutely convinced they are in the minority.

Some people are perfectly satisfied to read books with disabled characters and have no desire to try out dating people with disabilities in real life. Others do try, though it's very difficult because there is a lot of prejudice and hatred against us. I have dated several men with various disabilities, though none turned out to be the right match for me personality-wise and I'm now marrying a non-disabled man.

Yes, there are some devs who fixate on a particular disability and others who are turned on by many different kinds of physical disabilities. Some like many disabilities but are most attracted to a particular one. It can mutate too. I started out being only attracted to paraplegics and the older I got, the more it grew. I have a friend who particularly likes blind guys and another who particularly likes amputee guys. Both have had successful and honest relationships with men who have those disabilities.

When people first hear about the existence of devs there tends to be a negative gut reaction, but from the devs I have met and communicated with, it seems like we are in a great position to understand disability and to even see it as an advantage. Sometimes people with disabilities will say to me "I don't want to be with someone who can look past my disability, I want someone who enjoys all of me."

3) In (W)hole, Elizabeth has always, even as a young child, had erotic fantasies centered around male disability. She also felt great shame, because she knew/feared if her secret was revealed, her parents and everyone around her would despise her as a pervert. In your research, have you found this is the most common experience? Or do some people fall in love with a person who happens to be disabled, and after that relationship ends, find themselves more drawn to disabled persons?

I would say that people who happen to fall in love with a person with a disability and then date other disabled people are probably not devs. Unless there was some deeply buried reason why they got into the first relationship. It can definitely happen that someone falls in love with a person who has a disability and they realize that it's not a big deal and it's fundamentally a relationship like any other. So then they aren't intimidated or scared of the idea of dating someone else with a disability.

The people I've met who identify as being dev had those feelings of attraction years before they even knew anyone with a disability. (W)hole is very closely related to my own experience, particularly how Elizabeth felt as a child. Her family is not like mine and I never had a relationship like hers with Stewart (I never date anyone without telling them I'm a dev, even the non-disabled guys). But from talking to people, it sounds like the very young age that I experienced it was unusual. Most start noticing it around puberty as their sex drive begins to develop.

There's a lot of theories floating around about what causes devness and where it comes from, but there has never been sufficient research on the subject. It's all just gut reaction and misunderstanding. For example, some believe that as a child I must have had some experience of admiring a person with a disability and it turned into a fetish. But I had no such experience. I had dev feelings before I met anyone who had a disability. I had a very normal and happy childhood and the feelings were with me from such a young age that I really feel like I was born with it.

4) Traditional YA often allows unspeakable violence, but little to no erotic sex. Think Hunger Games. When I read (W)hole, I felt that it had a very YA voice, but that the sensuality would keep it out of the YA section of a bookstore. In what genre would you shelve this, and why?

Oh, so true! This was the biggest challenge in publishing the book. No one wanted to touch it because it was too risque for YA but too tame for adult. It's classified now as Romance, though it's really a Coming of Age tale. This inability to find a genre for it has, I think, held it back. No one quite knows what to make of it. Though, I think it's a fascinating read for people who are curious about other people's deepest, darkest secrets! (Bev: An idea - there's a up-and-coming genre now called New Adult... perhaps it would fit there?)

5) Let’s talk movies and the disabled. I remember how blown away I was by the sex scene between Jon Voight and Jane Fonda in Coming Home. *fans self* Did you see The Sessions? What did you think of it? (I particularly enjoyed the actress in a wheelchair who portrayed disabled people having rather wild and crazy sex lives.)

I have not seen The Sessions yet! I really want to. It's definitely on my list. I've heard such good things. Money is tight these days, so I'm waiting for a free RedBox coupon or for it to come up on Netflix.

The first movie for me that I found really sexy was Born on the Fourth of July. I was probably way too young to be watching it! I also found Avatar ridiculously sexy.

I'm happy to hear about the actress you mention. I think it's great that we're starting to see stories of people with disabilities being regular people. Because they are! In fact, I really dislike the "us" and "them" language that I feel kind of forced to use. I wish there were more roles given to actors who actually have the disabilities being portrayed. Too often in movies the experience of the character with the disability is given a really cliche and insulting portrayal. I'm excited to see Teal Sherer build her carer as an actress who uses a wheelchair. I think she brings a great nuance to characters.

6) When people write paranormal romance, nobody asks if they have personally had sex with a vampire or werewolf. When people write murder mysteries, nobody asks how many people they have killed. It’s all presumed to be fantasy and imagination. But when people write erotic romance, like BDSM or menage, for example, they are often asked how closely the material is modeled after their own sex lives. Are you comfortable discussing whether there is a personal experience factor in choosing to write stories with this common thread? Or, could you share what is the weirdest or worst assumption people have expressed to you?

Hahaha, that's true! It's all about fantasy when you write Romance. You're just telling yourself a story that makes you happy and feel good. I'd say that my characters are more comfortable in their own skin than most people who have the same disabilities in real life.

Realism in certain aspects is very important to me. I want to give realistic portrayals of how sex works with spinal cord injury and not just gloss it over. Because if I do my job right, then I'm showing women that they totally could have a great relationship with a paralyzed guy and there's no need to turn down that person in real life. So I want them to see the real challenges and how they are overcome.

I started writing my stories because I ran out of books in the library that had disabled guys in them. I started creating my own, writing what I wanted to read. Later in life I did start dating men with disabilities and that has allowed me to add some more realistic detail. But the guys in romance novels don't tend to be real guys and they're not supposed to be. What I love in books I wouldn't really want in real life. For example, I like books about bad boys. In real life, I love geeky, kind, gentle men.
I'm sure people have made some nasty assumptions about me, but none that I've been directly told! I guess people expect me to be more sexual and promiscuous than I actually am.

7) Dev Dreams is a collection of short stories and novellas, which range in heat level from sweet to super-spicy. Who’s your favorite couple in this set, and why will a reader love them?

Tough question! I love all my couples. I guess I have a particular fondness for Ember and James from On Saturday Afternoon. Em is definitely a side of me, trapped and debilitated by her shyness. She has to choose whether to follow her heart or give in to what others want from her and that's a struggle I can relate to.

8) On your website, you have short stories that people can read for free, or donate. I’ve heard of restaurants like that, but not writing models. Do people donate, or just help themselves?

You know, the donation button was something that I thought I'd try, but it hasn't been successful. I like to experiment with different ways of bringing stories to people, so it was worth trying out, but I'm going to take that down. I like to give away the shorter stories so that people have a chance to see what my writing style is like and they will then have an idea if they would like to read my books.

9) What project are you currently working on, and when you expect to release it?

I have so many ideas and it's really hard to prioritize and focus on one until it's done! Currently I'm working on a novella that is a twist on the classic romance plot of a rich man and a young secretary. In mine, the rich man is a quadriplegic. That will be going to my editor and proofreader within the next couple of weeks. I'm so looking forward to sending out an email to my list subscribers when that's ready because I haven't had anything new in a while!

I'm also working on something really different for me, which is a cozy murder mystery with a girl detective who is in a wheelchair. My writers group is helping me to polish that one.

Then there's the story of Dylan Sinclair that I think people are really going to like. It's about a young man who is paraplegic and dreams of a career in music. He has the talent, but not the look. So he convinces his brother to impersonate him and the scheme works a little too well. I'm so excited about this story, but I'm having trouble moving forward with it because I want to make it perfect!

10) What question has no one ever asked you (and what is your answer)?

Ooo, another tough one. I'm such an open book and I always encourage people to ask me anything they want. Yeah, I really can't think of anything! Okay, readers, it's up to you to pose a question for Ruth in the comments.

Want to read one of her stories? Here's some to choose from:

Amazon.com Widgets

There isn’t enough fiction out there with characters who have disabilities. Ruth Madison aims to fix that. After years of combing through the dusty back shelves of libraries looking for her elusive, imperfect hero, she started writing her own.

Ruth’s romantic tales are full of wounded heroes: men physically challenged by life, but not defeated. These men overcome the difficulties of amputation, paralysis, or cerebral palsy to find acceptance, happiness, and heroines who love them exactly as they are.

E-mail: Ruthmadison82@yahoo.com
Website: RuthMadison.com
Facebook: RuthMadisonDev
Twitter: RuthMadison82

Got a favorite Ruth Madison book?

Questions? Comments?

Sex and the Differently-Abled

2013-05-13T05:00:00.000-07:00

Many people, if they think about having sex with a disabled person at all, hold some preconceived notions, like it would only be a pity f*ck, or perhaps, somebody would have to be paid to do it.

Reality? Just like non-disabled people, some disabled people do pay for sex. Others are celibate, others have married sex (which ranges from little to much in frequency), and others are all but swinging from the rafters, as humorously portrayed by the gorgeous Jennifer Kumiyama in the 2012 movie The Sessions. (Actually, since sex swings are "a thing," perhaps some are literally swinging from the rafters. Just like some non-disabled people.)

Fetish Fantasy Yoga Sex Swing via Adam & Eve
I must be a chicken, because when I look at this, it
doesn't scream "sexy" to me, it screams uncomfortable.

The Sessions, which I loved, starred Helen Hunt, John Hawkes, and William H. Macy, and garnered dozens of award nominations.

Based on the poignantly optimistic autobiographical writings of California-based journalist and poet Mark O'Brien, THE SESSIONS tells the story of a man confined to an iron lung who is determined--at age 38--to lose his virginity. With the help of his therapists and the guidance of his priest, he sets out to make his dream a reality.

People fall in love

Regardless of age, of the color of their skin, and whether or not they have working legs, or eyeballs, people fall in love, and not always "with their own kind."

The first time I became aware of this was when I was very young, watching the movie Coming Home. Jane Fonda portrays a woman with a husband serving in Vietnam, who falls in love with a disabled combat veteran while her husband is overseas.

The tenderness, the attraction, and later, the lovemaking between these two was smokin' hot.

Likewise in Dee J. Adams' Dangerously Close; she's paired a newly blinded heroine with a rock star hero, a man who's used to people judging him at first glance.

He sat next to her and Ashley imagined the serious expression on his face. “No,” he said. His warm palm stroked her jaw as his thumb grazed her cheek. His voice had that husky quality again and her insides started a slow melt. “It’s my way of making sure you’re okay the rest of tonight. I want you close to me.”

Ashley’s breath hitched. The contact, the words and the way he said them were electric. Maybe she was too wigged out from tonight. Maybe all of it was in her head, but it didn’t change the way her body felt. A definite hunger slowly built from her center and fanned out to her fingers and toes. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She sat there frozen, waiting for more of his touch, more of his heat.

Hot, hot, hot - and why not? Why should romance novels and movies only portray 25-35 year old superfit whole bodied men with amazing pecs, and 18-30 year old superfit whole-bodied women with perky breasts and both a law degree and a PhD in biochemistry?

Not that I don't enjoy those books, too, but IMO, it's more interesting when a character is imperfectly shaped or has a physical challenge as well as an emotional/spiritual one. One of the things I love about Mercedes Lackey's fantasy fairy tale novels is it's not unusual for her to feature heroines or heroes who are damn near blind without their glasses. (Like me!)

When a fat girl has a hot boyfriend - and yes, it happens, frequently - he may face social pressure from people telling him "you can do better," as if the only standard of beauty (and worth) for a woman is being thin. There's a common expectation that if you are already married and your partner becomes ill or disabled, well, of course you would stick by him/her. But if a man or woman meets and marries someone who is already disabled, or perhaps ill with HIV or MS or bipolar disorder... Society tends to question, "Why? Is there something wrong with you?"

It's almost as if the person has become that condition or disease - the wheelchair, the illness, the deafness - and that's all many people see.

In some cases, it's looking past the physical attributes, disability or disorder.

I prefer men who are taller than me, and men with hairy chests (even if that's not currently "in" among romance male cover models), but I've dated men shorter than me, and bald-chested men, and sometimes had long relationships with someone who was "not my (physical) type," because I enjoyed so much more about him. For me, and for others who are attracted to A but not dead-set against B, it can be a case of looking past initial physical attributes and connecting with the person, perhaps even coming to prize those attributes over time.

Others are initially attracted to others because of those physical attributes.

Tomorrow I'll be extensively interviewing author Ruth Madison, who introduced me to the world of devotees - people who are sexually attracted to partners with physical disabilities.

Stay tuned!

Your thoughts?
Got any book recommendations that feature
disabled or otherwise "different" heroes or heroines?

Slut of the Month: Ava Gardner

2013-05-06T05:00:00.000-07:00

Ava Gardner (Photo credit: Lexinatrix)

"If I had my life to live over again, I'd live it the same way. Maybe a few changes here or there, but nothing special. The truth is, honey, I've enjoyed my life. I've had a hell of a good time."

I don't know what they carved on her tombstone, but Ava Lavinia Gardner did indeed have a hell of a good time in her life.

Born on December 24, 1922 (she later made pointed remarks about that Jesus Christ person trying to steal her birthday), the youngest of seven children to poor cotton and tobacco farmers, her ancestry included Scots-Irish, English, Irish, French Huguenot, and Native American (Tuscarora).

"She can't sing, she can't act, she can't talk, She's terrific. Sign her!"

Ava Gardner (Photo credit: Lexinatrix)

After a New York talent scout wanna-be spotted her picture in the window of her bro-in-law's photography studio and dropped some hints, said bro-in-law and sister sent the 18 year old over the MGM's New York talent office for a screen test.

Al Altman didn't even bother to record her speaking, since her North Carolina accent was so thick he could barely understand her. But when Louis B. Mayer saw her screen test, he sent a telegram with the above quote, signing her to a standard MGM contract. And provided a speech coach.

“In one scene, when I was supposed to say, "In a pig's eye you are," what came out was, "In a pig's ass you are." Old habits die awfully hard.” ― Ava Gardner, Ava: My Story

Louis B. Mayer would not be the last man to fall in love with Ava for her stunning looks.

Her list of men was almost as long as her list of films.

Micky Rooney, actor, husband (1 year)
Artie Shaw, band leader, husband (1 year)
Frank Sinatra, musician/actor, husband (6 year marriage, 2 abortions)
Howard Hughes, eccentric businessman/aviator, friend
Ernest Hemingway, author, friend
Luis Miguel Dominguin, bullfighter, lover
Benjamin Tatar, actor, lover

“Maybe, in the final analysis, they saw me as something I wasn't and I tried to turn them into something they could never be. I loved them all but maybe I never understood any of them. I don't think they understood me.” ― Ava Gardner, Ava: My Story

Her beauty made people underestimate her talent.

"She had this natural poignancy and her feelings ran very deep. To my mind she developed into a fine actress. I've been telling her that for years, and she always waves it off." -Gregory Peck (Ava: My Story)

Cover of The Barefoot Contessa

She was nominated for an Academy Award for Mogambo, and for several BAFTA's (British Academy Awards) as well as a Golden Globe for The Night of the Iguana, but never won.

“Don't think for a minute that bad publicity and endless criticism don't leave their claw marks on everyone concerned. Your friends try to cheer you up by saying lightly, "I suppose you get used to it, and ignore it." You try. You try damned hard. But you never get used to it. It always wounds and hurts.” ― Ava Gardner, Ava: My Story

Although she acted in dozens more, she is best remembered for roles in:
The Hucksters (1947), Show Boat (1951), The Snows of Kilimanjaro (1952), The Barefoot Contessa (1954), Bhowani Junction (1956), On the Beach (1959), Seven Days in May (1964), The Night of the Iguana (1964), The Life and Times of Judge Roy Bean (1972), Earthquake (1974), and The Cassandra Crossing (1976)

English: Screenshot of Ava Gardner from the trailer for the film en:Mogambo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

"Maybe I just didn`t have the temperament for stardom. I`ll never forget seeing Bette Davis at the Hilton in Madrid. I went up to her and said, "Miss Davis, I`m Ava Gardner and I`m a great fan of yours." And do you know, she behaved exactly as I wanted her to behave. "Of course you are, my dear," she said. "Of course you are." And she swept on. Now that`s a star." (Ava: My Story)

Ava continued acting in feature films and television until 1986, when she suffered two strokes. She died in London in 1990 at the age of 67.

Because of her sultry, screen siren roles, and because at the time her romance began with Frank Sinatra he was married to another woman, she was pilloried by the Hollywood press, the Catholic church, the Hollywood establishment, and Sinatra's fans. If she wasn't outright called a slut, she was called everything but.

"She was exactly the opposite of the roles she played. She looked like a femme fatale and she wasn't. She was really sweet and dear and lovely..." -Arlene Dahl (Ava: My Story)

Even after their marriage ended, she and Sinatra remained friends till the end of her life.

Past Sluts of the Month:

Future Slut of the Month Candidates:

Mae West
Joan of Kent
Cleopatra
Sandra Fluke
Morgan le Fey
Aspasia
Madonna
Liz Taylor
Dorothy Parker
Kassandra of Troy
Tullia d'Aragona
Marie Antoinette
Lillie Langtry
Anne Boleyn
Eleanor Roosevelt
Rhiannon
Shelley Winters
Mary, Queen of Scots
"Klondike Kate" Rockwell
Catherine de Medici
Lucrezia Borgia
Umrao Jaan
Sarah Bernhardt
Cher
Eleanor of Aquitaine
Theodora (wife of Emperor Justinian of the Byzantine Empire)
Jeanne d'Arc
Margaret Sanger
Hwang Jin-i
Coco Chanel
Isadora Duncan
Sappho
Joan of Kent
Dorothy Dandridge
Catherine the Great
the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown
Eva Perón
Susan B. Anthony
Natalie Wood
Diana, Princess of Wales
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Mata Hari
Lady Gaga
Malala Yousafzai

“Hell, I suppose if you stick around long enough they have to say something nice about you.”
― Ava Gardner, Ava: My Story

Who's your favorite slut?

Vote for one on this list, or name another slut to be added to it.
Do you have a favorite Ava Gardner movie?

Seriously Sick Series

2013-04-29T05:00:00.000-07:00

One could fall in lust with this cover
based on the intimation of
chest hair alone!

And I mean "sick" in the most flattering, Urban Dictionary definition of the word.

One of the hardest things in writing a series, is to please the loyal readers who have been following all along in the previous books, giving "what's happening now" for favorite characters from those books, while at the same time, not boring a new reader to tears with those details.

Another test is whether the books can be read out of sequence.

Grace Burrowes does these things beautifully. (Probably why she keeps hitting the New York Times Best-Seller list.)

There are to be eight books (plus at least two novellas) in her Regency Romance series about the Windham family. I've read them in this order (links are to my GoodReads reviews):

Spiderman's got nothin' on His Grace

Novella, The Duke and His Duchess

So the only two I’ve not yet read are Book 4, The Virtuoso, and Book 8, Lady Jenny's Christmas Portrait, which has not yet been released. I do plan to enjoy them both.

Ms. Burrowes has created an imaginary Duke of Morelands, his Duchess, and a very large family - 8 adult children, plus two ghosts.

Each book features the story of the romance of one son or daughter, but also includes family interactions, servants and other secondary characters, horses - who generally have names and personalities, children. One would think that by the time we got Book 7, there would be no room left for Lady Eve.

Yet despite the appearance and help of her parents, all her siblings, and their spouses, in Book Seven, Lady Eve and her decoy-turned-husband, Lucas Denning, have a full and satisfying romance, without being squeezed off the pages. How?

Part of me is still trying to figure that out.

What each book does not have:

An info-dump in the first chapter or two devoted to “here’s what happened in the last book.” There may be allusions to other storylines, sprinkled in lightly, and the weaving in of secondary characters from previous or upcoming books, but they don’t bog down the current book, nor are they teasers.
Flawless heroes and heroines. Sometimes the women are not pure as the driven snow. Sometimes the men are afraid of thunder. Strict formulas of when the hero and heroine come together and break apart are not obeyed.
Laura Ashley syndrome. There’s just enough description in each scene to give an impression - we don’t see that the color of the throw pillows matches the cushions on the fainting couch matches the curtains, trimmed with lace.

What each book in the series has:

A strong, smart, likeable hero and heroine - generally both hiding secrets.
Gobs of humor.
Secondary characters who introduce themselves and pique our curiosity for the next book(s), but know their place and don’t try to take over.
Names for characters that are unique to the time and sound hilarious to a modern ear: Percival, Esther, Gayle, Bartholomew, Magdalene, Wilberforce.
Critters (generally horses, could be dogs or cats or something else) with amusing names and personalities. I must admit, Herodotus the mule, and Lady Ophelia the breeding sow, are two of my favorites.
Great sexual tension and sex scenes that are both hot and often tender.
Insecurity. Based on each heroine’s backstory, the reader is not sure how she will react upon learning the hero’s secret - and vice-versa.
The heroines and heroes all have their own unique scents, favorite treats and beverages.
Past sorrows and traumas. There are two dead Windham brothers, and they are talked about and much missed by the current lead hero or heroine in every book.
Each Windham sibling (and spouse) has a particular strength or talent. Gayle, The Heir, and Maggie, are astute financial managers. Jenny creates naughty lingerie. Eve and Devlin understand horse training. Emma is a baker. Anna arranges flowers. Val plays the piano.
Children. Whether in the womb or already underfoot, kids are very much a part of each novel.

Even though Regency Romance is "not my thing," (my favorite reads are women's fiction and sci-fi/fantasy) I have tremendously enjoyed these books. Because regardless of what corset or cowboy hat you dress somebody in, human beings are human beings.

We all behave the same way (with minor eccentricities). We all want to be loved/admired and desired.

Mostly loved.

We all get caught up in the same family and romantic dramas, the same exhilaration and misunderstandings.

And we all want a happy ending (at least, *I* do).

Have you read any Grace Burrowes?

Which are your favorites?

Do you have a series to recommend?

Two of the Times Someone Raped Me (Part III) #saam #rape

2013-04-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

As someone who's experienced rape up-close and personal-like, who's talked with a lot of other rape ~~victims~~ survivors, and cried over the ones like Audrie Pott and Rehtaeh Parsons, who did not survive, and as someone who's done extensive research on the subject, I feel entitled to call bullshit on some of the rape myths.

Trigger Warning: Profanity. This series may be triggering to some rape victims.

The concept that any rape victims "wanted it" because they dressed provocatively or got drunk is like saying that jaywalkers wanted to be hit by a car.

Do some rape victims make poor choices that put them at greater risk of sexual assault? Yes. While I don't disagree that there are things that young women (and men) can and should do to make themselves safer, the reality is that rapists gonna rape.

Clothing (or lack thereof) doesn't make anyone rape anyone. If skimpy or provocative clothing led to uncontrollable lust, then why isn't every beach on the planet swarming with men and women pouncing on each other?

Women wearing burqas and ratty old sweatpants get raped; octogenarian grandmothers in long flannel nightgowns get raped; young boys in baseball uniforms get raped; babies of six months old get raped.

from Slutwalk LA 2010

The common factor in all rapes? Presence of one or more rapists.

While it's not the worst idea in the world to teach children, teens, and even older people how to be less vulnerable to rape and sexual abuse, what we really need to focus on as a culture is teaching men (and women) not to rape.

"No One Will Believe You" is a Lie From the Pits of Hell

Rapists and child molesters count on the old myths about rape to keep us silent. Lies like, "A man with an attractive wife or girlfriend doesn't need to rape a fat/ugly/geeky person like you."

We know now that "happily married men (and women)" do rape and molest men, women, boys and girls. Often they target someone who is especially vulnerable and insecure, perhaps because we are less conventionally attractive, perhaps because we have a troubled home, or have just moved to the community and haven't made any friends yet.

This doesn't mean we need to be suspicious of every offer of mentoring or friendship. But it does mean that if a teacher/coach/team quarterback/whoever assaults or rapes us, we should not believe this lie they tell to save their own skin. Someone will believe us. Tell, and if the first person doesn't believe us, keep telling.

If You Don't Hear a Very Clear Yes, It Means No.

Only Yes Means Yes Campaign (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Part of what has muddied the waters is that too many of us have read stories, seen movies, or watched p0rn, where, “No, please, don’t, stop!” turns into, “Please don’t stop!” We need to teach teens how to say no, firmly and forcefully, and how to hear no, even in the heat of the moment.

In J.L. Campbell’s A Baker’s Dozen: 13 Steps to Distraction, a short story prequel, Kyra has been on a date with her ex. She goes with him to his hotel room to collect a present he has promised for their son, and he makes a move on her. At first, she is aroused and goes along with his seduction, but she realizes, after she is naked and he's fumbling with a condom, that she doesn’t want to have sex with him after all.

Though she pushes at him and protests, he’s still determined to pry her legs open and have sex with her, until she bursts out, “Jesus Christ, Joshua! You really goin’ to rape me?” This brings him back to his senses.

Even if you've been engaging in foreplay and you're both stark naked, no means no. Saying yes to flirting, to kissing, even getting naked together, does not mean that the other person is "entitled" to have sex with you.

from Marquette University:

Consent for sexual contact cannot legally be given if an individual is under the age of 18, is incapacitated due to alcohol or other drugs, is unconscious or asleep, or has limited mental capacity. Consent is a clear yes, not the absence of no.

Understanding Consent
Consent is positive cooperation involving an act of free will, absent of coercion, intimidation, force or the threat of force. A person cannot give consent if he or she is unable to understand what is going on.

There must always be active consent on both sides. Consent to one thing does not imply consent to another. If limits are made clear and consent is not given, pressuring someone into changing his or her mind is not consent.

Consent is based on choice.

Consent is active, not passive. Silence and passivity do not equal consent.

Consent is possible only when there is equal power.

Giving in because of fear is not consent.

Giving in or going along with someone to gain approval or to avoid being hurt is not consent.

Consent means two people (or more) deciding together to do the same thing, at the same time, in the same way, with each other.

Saying Yes Once Does Not Mean Lifetime Access

Not to a vagina, not to an anus, not to a mouth. That permission is even time-stamped. Just because you said yes to someone, or tried a particular sex act, does not mean your partner now has lifetime or even one hour later access to the same (or another) orifice, without your renewed permission.

Thinking that no partner will want you because you've been raped is like thinking that no merchant will want your money after you’ve been mugged.

I can testify, from my own experience, and that of many other rape survivors I've known personally, being raped doesn't make us "damaged goods," or any less desirable in the eyes of most partners.

Of the very, very few who could never cope with the idea that their partner was once raped, trust me, these losers are not worth having. These are the same jealous, obsessive freaks who would go ballistic if you smiled at somebody "the wrong way" or left the light on when leaving a room, coming right back. We don't want them.

Not that your worth or my worth or anybody's worth is dependent upon whether or not somebody wants us in a sexual way.

Rape Doesn't (Have To) Ruin Your Life

One of the lies that piss me off more than almost anything is the frequent comment I hear and see posted about Jane Doe from Steubenville and other rape victims recently in the media,"Those boys should be locked up forever, because they ruined her life!"

I know these people mean well, but that's a lie. Unless our rapist actually murders us, our lives are not ruined. It's that kind of remark that the more vulnerable victims and victims-to-be hear and accept as an unshakable truth. The internal belief that after a rape you are ruined forever is a big factor for those who take their own lives, so I wish the people who say mindless stuff like that would STFU.

Our lives after rape change, absolutely. Rape is a horrible violation of our persons, and impacts us physically, mentally, and emotionally. It may take a long time to recover from rape, especially in cases where the rape was accompanied by other physical damage like internal organ damage, broken bones, or long-term consequences, such as an STI or pregnancy.

It may take time, counseling, support, and much self-love to heal and recover after a rape, but it is always possible. If we buy into the lie that rape "ruins our lives" it's like we're letting him/them mind-rape us forever.

No limp-dicked, cowardly rapist deserves so much power.

The best revenge, after being raped, is to go on to have a happy, healthy, successful life.

Talk of the Town Today, Forgotten Tomorrow

I wish I could have talked to and hugged Rethaeh Parsons and Audrie Pott and all the other rape and molestation victims who felt such despair that they took their own lives. Mostly, it seems, from the humiliation that "everyone knew about it" and the bullying that followed. As a teenager, I remember thinking that feelings of despair and rejection would never, ever end, and that I would be an outcast forever.

That's simply not true.

Three points:

High school doesn't last forever (it only seems like it does). However popular or unpopular we are in high school has almost nothing to do with how successful we will be later in life: at making friends; succeeding in business; finding a spouse... From Lady Gaga to Bill Gates, seems like it's the nerdy outcast types who really shine later in life.
The truth can be hard to swallow. I wouldn't want to believe that my boyfriend/best friend/brother, the high school quarterback, is a rapist, would you? Of the two choices: either that someone must be mistaken or making it up, or that this person we are close to could commit such a horrific crime, we'd rather believe someone is mistaken or making it up. Over time, many people who initially didn't want to believe the victim, do come to see that we are telling the truth, and will be on our side.
People want to feel safe. If they can come up with a reason we were raped: that we "asked for it," that it only happened because we were crazy drunk, or that we are lying, then they can feel less afraid that rape could happen to them, because they can avoid doing that thing. The idea that anyone, anywhere, is vulnerable to being the victim of a vicious attack is pretty terrifying. Sometimes when people "turn" on us, it's because we embody an idea or concept that they can't handle. If we could be raped, so could they.

My message to the teen rape victims out there: if you are afraid to talk to your parents, either because you think they will blame you, not understand, or because you don't want to hurt them, please, go talk to somebody. An aunt, a friend's mother, a counselor at school, a minister, priest or rabbi.

If you don't know anybody you feel you can trust, or even if you do, call 1-800-656-HOPE (4673), or go to RAINN.

Even if it feels like your whole school is against you, other people have felt that, too, and this too shall pass. {{{{hugs}}}}

I've been raped (and raped more than once, lucky me!) and I am still happy, healthy, successful, loved, and a sexual person. You can be, too.

To read Part I, go here.
To read Part II, go here.

What lies & myths about rape have hurt you or someone you love?
Your thoughts?

Two of the Times Someone Raped Me (Part II) #saam #rape

2013-04-24T05:00:00.000-07:00

The only thing I can blame on myself, the time someone raped me at knifepoint, was that I had left my front door unlocked.

Trigger Warning: Profanity. This series may be triggering to some rape victims.

I was 19, and my then-boyfriend was living with me. He had a union meeting that night, and if it ran par for the course, I expected him to be dropped off, late evening, hammered.

I was very tired from work; a long, hard day on my feet for most of it. So after greeting our dog (a sweet-natured Keeshond we’d rescued from the pound, named Winnie the Pooh), feeding the cats, kicking off my shoes and taking off my pantyhose, I ate the KFC I’d picked up on the way home, unlocked the front door so my b-f could just let himself in without disturbing me, and climbed into bed, still dressed, to read and doze.

When I thought I heard someone fumbling at the front door, I partially woke up. Was my boyfriend home? Winnie growled softly. For a moment I felt afraid, but there was no further noise, and watching the dog carefully, she kind of shook herself, then laid back down. I thought, must have been someone looking for my next-door neighbor (my apartment was half of a duplex), somebody who figured out he was at the wrong door, and moved on. I dozed off again.

I awoke to Winnie’s barking, and a stranger standing by the side of my bed. He wore a nylon stocking over his face (which is not a flattering look for anyone, just sayin’), and held a big kitchen knife in his right hand.

On A Scale of 1 to 10, This Joke Rates a -20.

At first I thought it was a really, really bad prank. One of my co-workers possessed an exceptionally low sense of humor, and it would be just his style to think a stunt like this would be funny. I even called for Friend L to stop hiding and come out of the living room.

via Wikimedia Commons
This is not Winnie, but looks much as she did,
a medium-sized, very fluffy dog

Winnie had stopped barking but was crouched by the foot of the bed, growling. (The cats, you will be unsurprised to hear, were totally unhelpful and disappeared.) The intruder grabbed the front of my white blouse with his free hand,and ripped it open, causing a button to pop off.

I realized it was not a joke.

Then the phone rang. In those days, it was a landline. The intruder gestured with the knife for me to answer it.

It was a wrong number. I was terrified that the intruder would think I was pretending it was a wrong number, that I was trying to send some kind of signal to a friend or family member. In the space of a few seconds, I obsessed over how I could prove to the guy I wasn't trying to "pull something." After I hung up, he used the knife to slice through the phone cord.

As I type this, I only now realize that knife was impressively sharp.

He directed me to perform oral sex on him, with which I complied, then he inserted his half-flaccid penis in me. Yes, like many rapists, he never achieved a full erection. The tape running in my head, over and over during this time, was, “Remember every detail you can, so they can get this guy,” but somehow, almost nothing stuck. The only detail that burned into my brain was his boxer shorts: light blue, solid, with no pattern, with white trim around the edges.

I couldn’t remember anything much else, really; no tattoos, moles, birthmarks, or anything distinctive about his body. I think he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, but I’m not even sure about the jeans, couldn’t remember the color of his T-shirt or what kind of shoes he wore. He was blond, fair-skinned, a little shorter than me, medium build - not fat, "built," nor skinny. I probably outweighed him.

Fight, Flight, or Freeze?

Briefly, I considered fighting the man, or going for his knife. With some rapists or batterers, their intent is first to cow you, then to kill you.

I didn’t get a “vibe” from this man that he intended to hurt me (besides the rape), and I was afraid that if I did fight him, I might get badly hurt by the big, sharp knife, during the struggle.

IMO, each rape or assault victim has to decide for her/himself what the right thing to do is. If you survive, you made the right decision. (And if you don’t survive, it still was not your fault.)

He seemed young (early twenties?) and rather unnerved by the dog growling, the phone incident, and I think I warned him my boyfriend would be getting home any minute.

How long he raped me, I don’t have a clue. He pulled out, grabbed a wide-mouthed wine bottle in which my b-f and I were saving spare change, and left. First I ran to lock the door behind him, then I started shaking and crying.

I couldn’t stand to wait home alone, till my boyfriend got home, so I jumped in my VW and drove to my sister’s house, about five miles away. She called the police, and went with me and the police to the hospital, while my brother-in-law went to my place to meet my boyfriend and the police there.

At the hospital, they collected a rape kit. Yep, just like in the movies, they put me into a room with intensely bright lights that glared painfully into my eyes. I had to comb my pubes over a piece of paper in hopes of catching one of his pubic hairs, and they swabbed me for evidence of his semen. I didn’t think he had ejaculated in me, but I wasn’t sure. They took my blouse, skirt, and underwear as evidence - eventually, I got the blouse and skirt back.

Did I have a rape victim advocate? I don't think so, I think it was before they were a routine part of the process, but if I had one, I was too dazed, shocked, and confused to remember.

Sometimes It’s Hard To Tell Who The Good Guys Are

The police who took me to the hospital were great; afterwards I was assigned two detectives, one male, one female. She was okay, he was a flaming asshole.

I felt shaky and nervous for weeks afterwards, exacerbated by the fact that my rapist attacked other women, and they caught him. I had to go to identify my rapist in a lineup, which I did, and then there were hearings I had to attend. Most of the details are very blurry, but one time I remember is waiting in a small room, with my sister, when the male detective came into the room.

He threw a pair of men’s boxers into my lap. “Are those the ones he was wearing when he raped you?”

WTF? In the first place, nice concern for the victim's sensibilities, not. In the second place, this pair was white, with a blue paisley print. Had the detective not been paying attention to the one detail I could remember? “No, the ones he wore were solid light blue, with white trim.” I was annoyed, and my sister was furious on my behalf; I think she left the room and lodged a complaint against the detective, but I’m not sure.

I think there was a hearing, to determine if there was enough evidence to go to trial. Judge only, no jury. Beforehand, we (my sister was with me) had to wait in a big hallway outside the courtroom, that included my rapist and his attorney. That was creepy.

I did take the oath and the stand. Answered a handful of very brief questions from the ?assistant DA? Then the defense attorney asked me questions. He seemed to be trying to trip me up, and I remember him pressing really hard on the question as to whether or not the rapist ejaculated in me.

"I don't think so, but I'm not sure."

"You don't know? A knowledgeable, sexually experienced woman like you can't tell if a man has ejaculated or not?"

This pissed me off. "I'm not knowledgeable or sexually experienced about perverts," I said. The court broke for lunch, and afterward they dismissed me, no more questions.

In the end, my rapist opted to plead guilty rather than go to trial. I think he got 1-3 years, but I am not sure. Maybe more, since they “had” him for at least 2 other cases. I can’t even remember what his name was; I’m sure it was on the subpoenas and other papers, but I didn’t keep them, and my mind has chosen not to remember.

I Know I Got Off Lucky

I was not beaten, cut, stabbed, bruised, or otherwise physically damaged. I did not contract a loathsome disease or become pregnant. They even caught my rapist, in a fairly short period of time, and he went to jail, so I did not have to wonder or worry if he was out there, might be coming back for me. I am fully aware that, as far as rape victims go, I got off lucky.

I was also lucky in that, this time, it was a “legitimate rape.” It even made it into the newspapers - just about every detail but my name, so that my neighbors, co-workers, and other people would’ve had to be dumber than paint not to know exactly who the articles were about.

I did directly speak to my (male) boss at the time, who gave me his deepest sympathy and all the time off (I think, with pay) that I needed to get over the initial trauma and the subsequent court dates. I was believed, I was supported by family and friends.

The Boyfriend Issue

I think it’s important to mention that my boyfriend, and many partners of a rape victim, have their own Issues and Challenges, after a rape. They “failed” to protect us. And now what? It goes against the grain to sit back and let the legal system take its course, rather than finding the rapist and at the very least, pounding the shit out of him. Still, that’s what they’re required by law to do, to wait, let the law do its thing. That helplessness is hard on everyone who loves a rape victim, but especially on male partners. Who do they turn to for support and information?

Figuring out how to support a raped partner is not something we talk about very much in our society. In my case, I wanted to be held, I wanted to make love again, ASAP, kind of like reformatting a computer hard drive and overwriting it with new data. Some rape victims don’t want to be touched at all, and others run hot-and-cold; sometimes wanting to be held and comforted, other times not wanting physical contact.

Although in the long run, we did not marry, my then-boyfriend was tremendously supportive of me when I needed it, and I will always be grateful to him for that. With his help, (and later, that of other men), I reclaimed my sexuality, eventually becoming just as joyful, happy, and even more uninhibited than I started out.

How The Mount Everest of Dog Diarrhea Helped Me Get Over My Rape

My next-door neighbor in our duplex was only a few years older than me, and we socialized together frequently. One day she was in my apartment, comfortably settled into to a chair or a cushion, and she asked me to run over into hers and get something.

She had a really big dog, and her really big dog had taken a really big dump right in the middle of the living room. We are talking the Mt. Everest’s of soft, wet, dog diarrhea. But I didn’t see it. Until I stepped in the middle of it, with my bare foot.

It was disgusting. It was still quite warm and contained corn chunks or some other solid nasty stuff along with the loose grainy nasty stuff and smelled about as vile and nauseating as anything can smell. I hopped outside on the other foot, rinsed off my foot with a hose, then went into my house and washed my foot about 3-4 times with scented soap, gagging. I still gag, when I pull up the visceral memory of that experience. All the thesauri in the world cannot come up with enough synonyms for how incredibly gross it was.

But, here’s what I didn’t do. I didn’t cut off my foot. I didn’t pretend that my soiled foot no longer existed and stopped walking on it. I continued to use it, and I’ve continued to enjoy it, whether it’s being massaged by a foot freak or a pedicurist, or just getting me from Point A to Point B.

And so, though my genitals have had encounters with the human equivalent of dog shit, I have washed them off, and I continue to enjoy them. Why not? I am not denying or suppressing the memories of being raped (not consciously, anyway), but I refuse to allow being raped by some limp-dicked loser be the entire story of my vagina or sex life. Because it is not. It is only a tiny fraction of all the wonderful pleasure sex and my vagina has brought me.

To read Part I, go here.

To be continued...

Your thoughts?

Two of the Times Someone Raped Me (Part I) #saam #rape

2013-04-22T05:00:00.000-07:00

Do you see what I did there? We are so accustomed to distancing ourselves from rape, we usually talk about it as if it was something awful that happened to us: "I was raped." No. Not even, "I was raped by <a stranger; my ex-boyfriend; a group of boys at a party; my father>."

Trigger warning: Profanity. This series may be triggering to some rape victims.

Rape is not like a car accident: "the brakes failed, and I was broadsided by another car."

This is part of what "they" mean when they talk about rape culture. We need to learn to talk about rape - a crime, and an action - as something that someone does to someone else, because rape is a choice.

What My Parents Didn't Teach Me

My parents taught me much more than many young girls learned about the mechanics of sex., especially for my (GenFab) era. From the time I was fairly young, I was allowed to look at my father's Playboy magazines (mostly to find the bunny on each cover), and told that the human body, female and male alike, was beautiful and nothing to be ashamed of. That sex felt good and that wanting to have sex was healthy and normal.

BUT, my mother died when I was ten, and my father thereafter handed me a series of books about sex, the human body, menstruation, and so forth, and emotionally stepped away. At twelve, he told me that he trusted my judgment (really?), and that I should feel free to do whatever I wanted to do, as long as I didn't get pregnant.

It will not take Einstein to deduce that at the age of 12 (two years before I began menstruating), I was not quite ready to be entirely free of parental supervision and guidance.

In high school sex ed, I could wow my teachers by not only being able to locate the Fallopian tubes on those purple mimeographed diagrams, but to spell Fallopian tubes, uterus, and a whole lot of other body parts many of my classmates had never even heard of. Yet my understanding of the workings of romantic relationships was rudimentary at best.

So, There Was This Boy...

If you're a (hetero) teen girl, there is always a boy or five that you "like." I liked boys, going back to elementary school, but had no clue as to where to draw the line regarding sexual activity - or even if there really was a line. Kissing felt good. Touching and rubbing felt good.

A couple of times, when I was very young, I went "all the way." But I was beginning to pick up the societal mores that sex was supposed to be dirty/naughty, I was afraid of getting pregnant because I thought sperm lived in a woman's body forever, and also, I joined a ~~church~~ cult that put premarital sex off-limits.

When I was 17, I left the cult. I didn't know how to date - and mostly, the young people in my neighborhood didn't seem to date, anyway. We "hung out" together, in groups. So there was this boy, call him Boy A who seemed to really like me, and he was... okay, but neither his conversation nor his body really excited me. I did let Boy A kiss me a few times, but his kisses left me unmoved, and I made it clear that he and I weren't "going out," even if we were "hanging out."

Among his friends, however, there was another boy, let's call him Boy B, who I thought was very sexy. We all went bowling together, and Boy B and I flirted heavily. We seemed to have a special connection, and although Boy B didn't ask me out, well, nobody "dated" in our crowd.

One night at a party, I got really, really stoned. We were all in a place where we shouldn't be and had to scatter. Boy B took charge of me (oh, the alpha male!) and managed to get me into his room, alone.

After what seemed like hours of sitting in the dark beside each other on his bed, not even daring to breathe very loudly, lest we be caught, he began to kiss me.

Rape Is A Many Splendored Thing

Many soap opera storylines, movies, and books all taught me and other women of my generation that at least sometimes rape = uncontrollable passion/secret, unacknowledged love.

Take General Hospital, where Luke raped Laura, and later, she not only forgave him, but fell in love with him. That scene in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, where Katharine Ross is forced to undress by gunpoint and then is forcibly kissed, and at the very end, barely whispered, is a hint that this is a "rape is fun" game. (Which I entirely missed the first 2-3 times I watched the movie.)

Kathleen Woodiwiss's The Flame and the Flower (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Even today on GoodReads, discussions rage as to whether Alex raped Tess in Tess of the d'Ubervilles, or Rhett raped Scarlett in Gone With The Wind, or whether those were seductions. The most popular romance authors of my girlhood: Kathleen Woodiwiss, Rosemary Rodgers, Johanna Lindsey, Judith McNaught wrote many, many rape and "forced seduction" stories.

Candy at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books took a crack at understanding the lure of the rapist hero:

What makes the rapist hero different is how the very fact that she makes him lose control, he, a man who has bedded women without count, makes him lose control even more. He desires her, and hates her for desiring her, and he punishes her accordingly. By the end of the book, though, he has submitted to the fact that he doesn’t just want her, he needs her, the way Ozzy Osborne needs Vicodin and red wine.

The more unkind critic would note that his dick has made judgment, and his dick apparently knows better than any other organ of his when he’s found his soulmate.

The less unkind critic would point out that many women secretly want to drive a handsome man crazy for love of their irresistible little selves, even though such behavior in real life would probably result in panicked calls to the police and restraining orders.

He Wasn't Even A Very Good Kisser

After all the sparks and flirting and excitement, this was a real letdown. I should enjoy being with Boy B, making out with Boy B, but mostly, the thought going through my muddled head was, "As soon as the coast is clear, I'm getting out of here."

At some point, he convinced me to lie down on his bed, and for what seemed like a very long time we lay there together, side by side with him occasionally stroking my cheek and nibbling my earlobe.

Without warning he climbed on top of me and tried to wrestle my underwear off, while I whispered "No!" as loud as I could without getting him into trouble, and yanked my pants back up. In a detached corner of my mind I thought how ridiculous this must look, him yanking my pants down, me pulling them back up.

I have since learned that in crisis mode, that's exactly what happens; the brain distances itself and you often fixate on some weird little detail.

In the end, he managed to get them down enough, get me pinned enough, to penetrate me. It hurt, a lot. I stopped fighting, trying to "lie back and enjoy it." But unlike in romance novels, it never felt good, or even okay, It simply continued to hurt.

Why didn't I call out for help?

Because geez, Boy B was my friend, I didn't want to get him into trouble. I also had some vague thought of not wanting to hurt Boy A's feelings, either. Besides, I had wanted to be with Boy B, right?

I got him to sneak me into the bathroom, when it was over, so I could clean up.

I was bleeding.

He became upset that I had bled onto his sheets, because it could get him into trouble. I actually apologized to my rapist because his raping me made me bleed.

I Thought Boy B Must Really Like Me, Like All The Romance Heroes

My deepest shame from that night, now, is not from his penis being briefly inside me, or my reluctance to call out for help, or even the ludicrousness of apologizing to my rapist for bleeding onto his sheets, but that I actually wrote him a love letter the next day. As I walked home, sore and aching between my legs, I convinced myself that Boy B and I had something special between us. That he was overcome by lust/love, like all the "forceful" romance heroes I'd read, and that the next time we had sex, it would be better.

Then I got a message passed back to me through the group grapevine. Boy B isn't your boyfriend, he doesn't want to be your boyfriend. He already has a girlfriend; he just wanted to fuck you, dumbass.

The confused and shamed feelings I had were very similar to these, expressed in Ilie Ruby's The Salt God's Daughter:

But it was the shame and humiliation that lingered most of all as I watched him speed away on his bicycle, knowing I’d never see him again. And self-loathing that followed, the slow and painful slogging through grief as I knelt on his white blanket, stained with my blood, hands covering my face. I would begin walking the never-ending path to forgiveness, trying like hell to figure out how I could have let this happen....

...Charges were not pressed. I didn’t fight him. I hadn’t even screamed. In those days, in the early ‘80s, few girls pressed charges, especially when they’d gone with a guy willingly, as though lambs to the slaughter, like I had done. People called it consensual... ...What if you just lay there, doing nothing, motionless, lost from the shock or the alcohol? What if you didn’t struggle enough? What if you had wished only to kiss him?

Did you want it?...

... When it was over, when he was done with me, before he took off, he picked up one of the smashed roses and thanked me.

I’ll never forget it: I actually took the rose.

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

The latest tragedies of young women being raped and then slut shamed, who have felt so rejected by their communities and betrayed by their friends that more than one have committed suicide, breaks my heart. That could so easily have been me, but, back in the day, we didn't have FaceBook or Twitter or Tumblr to keep shame alive.

I want to say, much like the "It Gets Better" campaign, that it doesn't matter, it doesn't affect your worth as a human being whether you willingly engaged in consensual sex at halftime on the 50 yard line with the entire football team, or whether you were raped by some/all of them, you are not just a vagina (or other body part, in the case of male rape victims).

Estimates are that 1 in 4/5 American women will experience rape in her lifetime. Yet how many of us talk or write about it? Using our real names and real experiences?

Admittedly, being a rape survivor is not the first thing that does or should come up in conversation, except in therapy groups. "Hi, I'm Beverly, I've been raped a few times, and I write sexy women's fiction in my spare time," is kind of an awkward intro.

What's the appropriate reply, "Hi, nice to meet you, sorry about the rape thing, try the cheese dip"?

Yet what we do now - most women (and male victims), pretending they have never been raped, not allowing rape victims' names to be printed in news stories without the victims' permission - perpetuates the idea, for many rape victims, that they are all alone, and that rape is shameful.

Rape is shameful - for rapists. Rape should not be shameful for rape victims.

to be continued...

Your thoughts?

Welcome to Cat Disneyland

2013-04-08T05:00:00.000-07:00

My cat, Metaphor, aka Stinky, has every toy a feline could possibly want to play with. My living room looks like a cat Disneyland, complete with tunnels, empty boxes, rolling fishbowl thingies, light-up toys...

I am constantly buying cat toys,

rotating them, trying to lure her into physical activity with a new feathered or squeaky or furry object. Most of them she ignores, or she'll glance at them, then stare at me. Her look says, "You cannot possibly believe I am so stupid as to be interested in that silly thing, do you?"

She is not fooled by a laser pointer. Sometimes Stinky will play with a new toy for seconds at a time. Sometimes she will engage in a totally different way.

I think I like it, but I'm not sure...

Now it's purrfect!

Metaphor (Stinky) on the left, Simile on the right

But regardless of how much she engages with her toys, regardless of the brand of diet cat food she is fed in strictly measured amounts... Stinky is a very big girl. She got fat in the year after we moved (with her sister, who died shortly after) in with my now ex-boyfriend, when she was only three years old. It was a very stressful environment for all of us, and Stinky blew up like a balloon.

I had hoped, once the two of us were in a stress-free apartment, continuing on her diet, and with plenty of play opportunities, a nice high perch from which to watch the birdies and squirrels, the weight would come off. It's been several years now, and that hasn't happened (for either of us).

Stinky, now ten, gets regular vet visits, and though the vet agrees that being this obese isn't good for any cat, her heart is strong, her lungs are clear, her teeth are good, and she doesn't test positive for diabetes. Healthy. She purrs a lot, is more cuddly than she used to be, so I judge to be her happy, too.

I'm thinking perhaps Stinky is my life lesson from the Universe, because I have long been not only dissatisfied with her shape, but my own.

In theory, I am a huge believer in the idea that human beings come in all shapes and sizes. I, too, am not diabetic, have a strong heart and lungs, decent (if not fabulous) cholesterol levels and low blood pressure.

I too am a big girl.

Unlike Stinky, I am not carefully measuring my food. For the most part, I eat a healthy diet, lots of broccoli and salads, I drink plenty of water and get enough sleep, but I do have my indulgences. (Hello, chocolate!) I would be even healthier if I could find a way to move more. That's been a challenge since I developed Morton's neuroma in my right foot several years ago. Hiking and walking and dancing at an aerobic level is out; despite my custom orthotic inserts and butt-ugly extra-wide shoes, it hurts too much, and I pay for it too long in terms of pain and immobility afterward.

Cover of Curves

This fall, I developed what we first thought was tendinitis, but is now officially diagnosed as frozen shoulder in my left shoulder - after dealing with a similar condition in my right shoulder the entire year before. For years I did the Curves circuit, which did not aggravate my foot too much, but it absolutely killed my shoulder. My physical therapist says no more Curves for a while.

Biking has been suggested, but I am very uncoordinated, so besides the purchase of the bike, I would have to mount a rack for my car so I could drive to a local park, since I am likely to wobble to my death in neighborhood traffic. Realistically? I'm simply not that motivated to ride a bike. Though perhaps an indoor exercise bike would be doable, when funds permit. I used to love playing volleyball, but need to be able to lift both arms over my head before that even becomes an option.

Once the weather warms up I can swim again, which I enjoy, or I could check out a membership in the "Y" and go for a water aerobics class.

I feel confident I could restrict my diet and vigorously exercise and take off the excess weight.

After all, I've done it many times before.

And then the weight has always come back to the party, usually bringing friends.

So instead of plunging once again into that yo-yo cycle, I'm going to plunge into figuring out just where my head needs to be. Oh, I won't postpone finding some way to exercise, because I know I need to - and I enjoy life more when I feel fit.

But maybe I need to accept that the Universe does not intend for me to be slim, or even "normal" sized (whatever that is) on a permanent basis. None of the women in my family have been anything but plump as they aged, and so I might be battling genetic tendencies as well as a chocolate addiction. Honestly? If I have to choose between giving up chocolate forever, and being fat, I say, "Bring on the muumuus!"

Does this box make me look fat?

I know, theoretically, that hating on ourselves as a diet technique may be a large part of why we regain the weight. That depriving ourselves of foods we love simply brings on binges, later. That the whole meme of "If I get to be XX pounds or size XX, then I would be so happy" simply isn't true. I am actually rather happy with myself and my life right now.

Except when my body parts hurt. Or when I'm picking out my work wardrobe for the week and I can't even choose clothes that fit me just fine a year ago.

I adore Stinky, in all her glorious Stinky abundance.

I have friends of all shapes and sizes, and I don't judge them harshly (okay, I admit that the slim friend who's always yammering about cutting back this or that food so she doesn't get fat kinda ticks me off).

But can I find a way to extend that nonjudgmental love to myself? Can I love myself as I am right now, and really focus on being healthy instead of on getting back to size XX?

I know I "should." I'm going to try. But can I get it from my logical head to my emotional heart?

I always welcome your comments, but this time, am gonna attach some strings.

Please don't suggest any specific diets. Any hate-talk will be deleted or edited.

Please do share about your own emotional struggles with weight,

an exercise you found unexpectedly delightful,

or your stories about a fat but lovable pet.

Your Lovable Local Library

2013-04-04T05:00:00.000-07:00

These are only two - of my eleven bookshelves.
I've crammed in a couple dozen more since I shot this.
And then I have my stacks o' books...

Book geek here - always have been, always will be. I love the sensuous smell and feel of books, in whatever format: the sharp-cornered dangerousness of a hardback, the soft yielding promise of a paperback, the infinite variety and stimulation of an e-reader, even the seductive mellowness of an audiobook narrator.

*fans self*

And because I have come to know so many wonderful authors, of course I want to support every single one of them by buying their books. Repeatedly. However...

There comes a time in every wallet's life when you have to step away from the cash register.

Cover via Amazon

Although I spend more money on books than shoes, occasionally I do have to buy a new pair. And pay rent on the place where I keep all my hardbacks and paperbacks, and the electric bill that lets me charge my Kindle, and so on.

I can't always afford to buy new, or even used books. Sometimes, there's a book I need to read - for example, my book club has picked it out - and I'm not yet sure I want to invest money in this unknown author. We've all been there, haven't we, squandered ten or fifteen bucks (or more) on a book which it turned out, we didn't like or perhaps couldn't even finish?

My first introduction to libraries was a Bookmobile that came to my elementary school.

It was interesting and exciting, because it was new! and we got to leave the classroom! But my family had more books at home, I thought, and the Bookmobile carried a very limited selection for readers of my age.

Then we moved, and I started at a new school. One that had an actual, on site library.

I will never forget my first peek inside the library, of realizing that all those books, from my old friends Curious George and the other books for little kids on that side of the room, to the glorious shelves on the other side that reached to heaven (okay, a little above my head), were available for the reading.

My friend Hilaree calls it "the ah-aah moment," you know, when the clouds part and a bright beam of sunshine streams down and you hear angelic voices singing, "Ah-aah."

The Romance, The Mystery, the Shame

I remember the airy, two story HS library with thick red carpeting, and big windows that looked out into the courtyard. And two internal staircases. Another, older library in the center of town, not particularly well-lit,with its tightly packed rows of books and old book smell, made me feel as if I was sneaking books out of a Duke or Earl's private library, especially when as a teen I'd check out the sexy books and wonder if someone would try to stop me.

library card found in pittsburgh pa
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I recently went to a book event and almost swooned when I received my raffle tickets tucked into an old-fashioned library card sleeve. Anybody remember library cards? The librarian would stamp the due date on a small index card that bore dozens of previous date stamps, and she'd tuck the card into the sleeve on the inside front of the book. Now library books carry bar codes; they're scanned and they give you a flimsy computer-printed receipt. *sad face* Not that I'm not grateful, but it seems much less romantic.

I remember having to keep slipping those inked up cards out of the pocket to check when my books were due back. The tension, the drama, the feverish reading into the wee hours of the night, because I had to know what happened before I returned them.

Or on tenterhooks, going to the library to beg for an extension of the loan, for a book not quite finished, hoping no one else had reserved the book after me. Now you can just log on and renew your books online. Again, I'm grateful, but the mystery and suspense is gone.

And oh, the shame when library books were overdue! Slinking up to the counter with my pennies and abject apologies.

Modern Libraries - Like Friends With Benefits

They're clean, they're all airy and well-lit, with inviting reading areas, computers, work tables, and plenty of space to move around - a vast improvement for our brother and sister readers who have disabilities. If there's a little less mystery and romance, there's much more comfort and familiarity.

And it's mot just physical books, anymore, but most libraries carry books on tape/CD, DVD's, magazines, and more.

Also, provided you belong to a city or county with a big enough library system, you can check out e-books! Just concluded my first adventure with checking out an e-library book.

First (no duh!) you need a current library card. If you haven't checked out a book in several years, you may have to stop into an actual library building and get a new library card.

They even come with handy key tags now.

Then you can log into your system and find your books. If you want a dead tree book, you can see if it's on the shelf at your local library branch, and if not, but it's at another library in the system, you can arrange to have it transferred over.

With an e-books, there can be a wait list for newer or more popular titles. (The Steve Jobs autobiography wait list was at 400 or so, when I idly checked it.) Also, not all books offer any e-version, let alone one for your Kindle/Nook/iPad (though most newer releases do). When you find your book in your format, click a few buttons, and it'll download to your device either automatically, or next time you are connected to a hot spot (my Kindle is old school, it's not constantly online).

When your book is close to coming due, you'll get a reminder, and then, on the day after your e-book was due back - it's been automatically removed from your device. Magic! No dashing to the library in your sweatpants and bunny slippers!

(Though I'm sure that unlike me, you look adorable in your sweatpants and bunny slippers.)

You also get a message on your Kindle telling you it's been removed, and asking if you'd like to buy the book - so if you loved it and want your very own copy, just another couple of clicks.

I'm happy to purchase books when funds permit, but my wallet is even happier that I'm also a book borrower through my public library.

How about you? Got a fond childhood library memory?

Have you been to a library lately?

What are your experiences checking out e-books?

Slut of the Month: Anaïs Nin

2013-04-01T05:00:00.000-07:00

English: Photograph of Anaïs Nin as a teenager, circa 1920. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Anaïs Nin, it has been lately discovered via DNA testing, was actually a man in drag. His name was not Angela Anaïs Juana Antolina Rosa Edelmira Nin y Culmell, but Fred Hinkleschnerfer.

No. April Fools, y'all.

Anaïs Nin, born in France on February 21, 1903, was as female as a cat in heat - and, judging by her writing, she frequently felt like one (not that there's anything wrong with that).

“We don't see things how they are, we see things the way we are.”― Anaïs Nin

Because I reek at pronunciation worse than a college basketball player's lucky socks (I used to say "Aunty-Kay" for "antique" for years) I am linking the official pronunciation for others similarly challenged:

From Inogolo.com:

Phonetic Pronunciation: ah-nah-EES

Phonetic Pronunciation: neen

Anaïs lived most of her life in the United States, so is considered an American author. (Yeah, USA!) But she is more truly a citizen of the world. Her composer father, Joaquin Nin, grew up in Spain but was born in and returned to Cuba. Her mother, Rosa Culmell y Vigaraud, a classically trained singer, was of Cuban, French, and Danish ancestry.

After her father deserted the family, Anaïs attended Catholic schools in the United States beginning in 1914, dropped out of school at sixteen, and worked as a model and a dancer.

Anaïs studied psychoanalysis with Otto Rank and briefly practiced as a lay therapist in New York.

Was There Ever A Woman More Sensual?

In 1931, Anaïs, then married to Hugo Guilar who was a banker and later a moviemaker, began a passionate affair with as-yet unpublished Henry Miller in Paris, as he worked on Tropic of Cancer.

And perhaps, a few (dozen) others. Which led to some amazing erotic literature.

“He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.” ― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

via Wikipedia:

Faced with a desperate need for money, Nin, Miller and some of their friends began in the 1940s to write erotic and pornographic narratives for an anonymous "collector" for a dollar a page, somewhat as a joke.^[15] (It is not clear whether Miller actually wrote these stories or merely allowed his name to be used.^[16]) Nin considered the characters in her erotica to be extreme caricatures and never intended the work to be published, but changed her mind in the early 1970s and allowed them to be published as Delta of Venus^[17]^[18] and Little Birds.

Delta of Venus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Nin was a friend, and in some cases lover, of many leading literary figures, including Henry Miller, John Steinbeck, Antonin Artaud, Edmund Wilson, Gore Vidal, James Agee, James Leo Herlihy, and Lawrence Durrell. Her passionate love affair and friendship with Miller strongly influenced her both as a woman and an author.

“When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolflike sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. Naked now, he lay his full length over her. She enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. She wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. Shivers passed through her body.”― Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus

for a wonderful tribute of Anaïs Nin photos and a recording of
her reading her own work, please play this clip

Later, Anaïs would act in her husband Hugo's experimental movies. She would also marry for a second time in 1947 (without troubling herself to get a divorce from husband Hugo), to an actor named Rupert Pole, her being 44 to his 28. (And why not?)

Anaïs became a very skilled performer at what she referred to as bicoastal trapeze.

On the East Coast, she was Anaïs Guilar, with checkbooks and prescription bottles to match; in California she was Anaïs Pole. Although tax and legal issues compelled her to obtain an annulment of her marriage to Pole in 1966, they continued to live together as if married until her death of cancer in 1977. After Hugo Guilar died in 1985, Rupert Pole commissioned the unexpurgated versions of Anaïs's journals.

After her death, Anaïs was cremated and her ashes scattered in Mermaid Cove, Santa Monica, California. Later, husband Hugo's cremains were also scattered in Mermaid Cove - as arranged by Rupert Pole. I was unable to verify what happened to husband Pole after his death in 2006, but it's highly likely, according to Anaïs biographer Deirdre Bair, that his ashes joined theirs in a posthumous ménage à trois.

Are We Too Straitlaced for an Anaïs Nin Today?

The mere thought of a woman openly exploring her sensuality and sexuality throws most people (at least in the US) into a tizzy. I have been told about one of my novels that the idea that the heroine might fuck other men en route to discovering her enduring love for the hero... Well, it's simply not done, these days. [In fact, my dear, on a blog one should say "the eff word" or politely blank out characters, such as "f--k other men".] A fictional heroine can have sex, she can even have wildly graphic and kinky sex while tied up in a Red Room of Pain, but monogamy to the hero must be maintained throughout the book.

Some people just about rolled into a ball and died over Beyoncé's 2013 SuperBowl performance, or the "wardrobe malfunction" of Janet Jackon at the same event in 2004. Nipples! OMG!! (Never mind that all women and men each have a pair of their own.) So I wonder, even though today her writings are widely respected, her nuggets of wisdom are quoted everywhere, if we, as a society, would accept or reject a woman who practiced the scandalous lifestyle of Anaïs Nin?

Like Rodney Dangerfield, Anaïs couldn't get any respect.

In the 1940's and 50's, the (almost entirely male) literary society was happy to get Anaïs's input - and to thrust theirs upon her (take that any way you like), but publish her? Consider her work as important as Miller's or Steinbeck's?

Being discounted as an artist could make a person angry and bitter. Below, Anaïs discusses anger as related to the artist.

Her diaries - the edited versions - first became widely published in 1966; the erotic novels such as Delta of Venus (1977) and Little Birds (1979) posthumously.

Reading or hearing her words, Anaïs does not seem to be an ordinary creature, but apparently, she too had her dry spells and household chores.

“Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous. I want to be a writer who reminds others that these moments exist; I want to prove that there is infinite space, infinite meaning, infinite dimension. But I am not always in what I call a state of grace. I have days of illuminations and fevers. I have days when the music in my head stops. Then I mend socks, prune trees, can fruits, polish furniture. But while I am doing this I feel I am not living.”― Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934

Somehow, if we are writers, we must not only seek the high moments, but accept that moments of drought, when we are not in "a state of grace," when all we are fit to do is mend socks and polish furniture, happen to everyone. Even to Anaïs Nin.

I love so much of the writing and poetry of Anaïs Nin, but my favorite quote, which I have framed on my bedroom wall, is Risk:

And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to blossom.

Past Sluts of the Month:

Future Slut of the Month Candidates:

Mae West
Joan of Kent
Cleopatra
Sandra Fluke
Morgan le Fey
Aspasia
Madonna
Liz Taylor
Dorothy Parker
Kassandra of Troy
Tullia d'Aragona
Marie Antoinette
Lillie Langtry
Anne Boleyn
Eleanor Roosevelt
Rhiannon
Shelley Winters
Mary, Queen of Scots
"Klondike Kate" Rockwell
Catherine de Medici
Lucrezia Borgia
Umrao Jaan
Sarah Bernhardt
Eleanor of Aquitaine
Theodora (wife of Emperor Justinian of the Byzantine Empire)
Jeanne d'Arc
Margaret Sanger
Hwang Jin-i
Coco Chanel
Isadora Duncan
Sappho
Joan of Kent
Dorothy Dandridge
Catherine the Great
the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown
Eva Perón
Susan B. Anthony
Natalie Wood
Diana, Princess of Wales
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Mata Hari
Lady Gaga
Malala Yousafzai

Who's your favorite slut?

Vote for one on this list, or name another slut to be added to it.
What do you think of Anaïs Nin and her work?
Do you have a favorite Anaïs quote?

If I May, If I Might

2013-03-25T05:00:00.001-07:00

Winston Churchill in Downing Street giving his famous 'V' sign. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I ain't always (ever?) real confident on grammar and suchlike.

I know what sounds right to me, reading, and what sounds wrong, but sometimes what sounds wrong to me is grammatically acceptable, and vice versa.

Sometimes we can get all twisted up about grammar rules, such as making sure not to end a sentence with a preposition. There's a quote attributed to Winston Churchill, “This is the sort of bloody nonsense up with which I will not put.”

Silly, isn't it?

I spent my teen years in a region (south-central Pennsylvania) where you outen the lights when you leave the room, where if you drink the last of the milk, it's only courtesy to let someone know "the milk is all," and when, after asking for a ride to the mall, get back a cheery, "I'll be glad to run you over."

It's all the little colloquialisms and regional turns of phrase that make reading and writing so much fun.

But recently while reading a book I very much enjoyed, I kept getting thrown out of the story by the liberal use of the word "may." It didn't sound right. It didn't feel right.

It bugged me so much I had to stop and go look up the proper grammatical usage. Was the author and her (professional) editor wrong, or was it me?

Take this fragment: "he was afraid he may not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up." Or this one: "She may have not had a lover in a while."

via Wikimedia Commons

Instead of wondering whether this dominant and submissive were headed for a long term romance, I was obsessing about the grammar?

Sadly, yes.

English Grammar Lessons. com says:

might
We use 'might' to suggest a small possibility of something. Often we read that 'might' suggests a smaller possibility that 'may', there is in fact little difference and 'might is more usual than 'may' in spoken English.
It might rain this afternoon.
She might be at home by now but it's not sure at all.
I might not have time to go to the shops for you.
I might not go.
For the past, we use 'might have'.

He might have tried to call you while you were out.
I might have left it in the taxi.

Grammar Girl Confirms:

World famous whitewater rafting in the Valley. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I remember the difference by thinking that I should use might when something is a mighty stretch. Imagine something you'd almost never do, and then imagine someone inviting you to do it. For me, it's white-water rafting. The idea terrifies me. So if someone (such as my former employer) asked me to go on a corporate bonding white-water rafting trip, it's unlikely I would go, but I could be convinced if I thought my job depended on it. But it would be a mighty stretch. So I'd say something like, "Yeah, I might go; and pigs might fly, too."

So imagine whatever it is you'd be reluctant to do but wouldn't completely rule out, and then imagine yourself saying in a nice, sarcastic voice, "Yeah, I might." And that should help you remember to use might when the outcome is uncertain or unlikely and to use may when something is more likely to happen, such as attending a nice, safe company lunch where helmets and life vests aren't required.

You might clean your room, but you may call your friend later. You might climb Mt. Everest someday, but you may go hiking in the foothills next weekend.

She goes on to illustrate (I adore Grammar Girl, just sayin')

First, might is the past tense of may. So you have to use might when you are referring to the past. For example, even if it's likely that Squiggly went to a party last night, Aardvark shouldn't say, “Squiggly may have gone to the party’; he should say, “Squiggly might have gone to the party.”

The second exception is a gray area. When you're talking about something not happening, it can be better to use might because people could think you're talking about permission if you use may. This is clearer with an example. If you aren't sure whether you'll go to the party, and you say, "We may not go to the party," it can be misinterpreted to mean you don't have permission to go to the party, particularly in writing, where voice inflections don't help guide the meaning. But if you say, "We might not go to the party," then your meaning is clear. It's the safer bet.

So remember to use may when the outcome is likely and might when the outcome is less likely or uncertain. But also remember that you use might for everything in the past tense. Also, it's OK to use might when you're writing about negative outcomes, even if they're likely outcomes, if using may would make people think you were talking about having permission.

So the phrase: "She may have not had a lover in a while," is wrong, because it refers to the past, and the wording is clunky, besides. Smoother and more grammatically correct would be: "She might not have had a lover in a while," or even, "She might not've had a lover in a while..."

In the sentence fragment: "he was afraid he may not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up..." grammatically, it's not wrong; it falls in that gray area. To me, as worded, it's confusing. Would it work with "might"? "he was afraid he might not want to take her collar off when two weeks was up"? I find that clearer.

Another option, since so much is happening in that sentence, might be rephrasing it altogether, "he was afraid that when the two weeks was up, he'd want to keep her collar on."

I would never want to edit out all the flavor and local turns of phrases

Not from this author's work, nor from any other. I enjoy it. The gods and goddesses of grammar know how often I have to change something I've written because the meaning is either unclear or grammatically incorrect, so I ain't throwing stones.

But to my way of thinking, it's best to leave the colloquialisms to dialogue and italicized inner thoughts, rather than narrative, even if the narrative is in a character's point of view. Anything that throws a reader out of the story and racing for a grammar refresher is not a good thing.

And on that note, I'm running myself over to the store, as my martini mix is all.

How comfortable are you with the proper use of "may" and "might"?

What kind of local phrases are used where you come from?

Have you been sidetracked by a clunky sentence in an otherwise good book?

Nobody Propositions My Feet Anymore - Aging Gracefully?

2013-03-18T05:00:00.001-07:00

Foot fetishism? (Photo credit: C1ssou)

Apparently, back in the day, I had incredibly sexy feet.

When I was in my twenties, running around barefoot in my apartment complex doing my laundry, this guy who was a friend of a neighbor who was having a party spotted me - and my feet - and was instantly smitten.

"I want to be upfront with you," he said. "I have a foot fetish, and you have incredibly sexy feet. I will <insert crude and lewd proposition here> for hours, if you'll let me fondle and play with your feet for a little while."

I was a little surprised, a lot shocked - and, I admit it, somewhat intrigued. He was kinda cute. He might be good at the aforesaid activity (though on the other hand, he might be terrible).

What did he want to do with my feet, anyway?

The writer in me said, "Say yes. This would make such a great story."

Then again, just because this was some guy who was invited to my neighbor's party, did not mean he was not a weird foot fetish serial killer. Though it would be hard to drag my dead body past the crowd of 30+ people in the courtyard.

I let the man sweet-talk me for a few minutes, then asked for a little time to think about it (after all, I still had to add fabric softener).

And my underage son was home, though due to be picked up by my ex within the next coupla hours.

It could be HAWT. After all, I'd seen the famous bondage and toenail-painting scene in Bull Durham.

Alas, it was not to be. Apparently for that particular foot freak, at that time, it was a now-or-never kind of thing.

Once my offspring was gone, and my laundry was folded, FootGuy was nowhere to be found.

Later, I Met Another Foot Fetishist

I admit it, I was curious, and this new guy, too, thought I had very sexy feet and propositioned me, so we agreed to go for it. As it turned out, the date on which we had planned to experiment intersected with another date, one I marked on the calendar each month with red XXs.

We played around a little anyway, but by Bill Clinton's definition, did not have sexual relations. A lot of rubbing and groaning (on his part), a lot of counting the ceiling tiles on mine, except there were no ceiling tiles. You get the drift.

He was no Kevin Costner. Goodbye, Foot Fetishist #2.

It wasn't that I was unwilling to let him get his freak on, periodically (God, I'm saying this all wrong), but I found out he was a creepy religious type. As in, he informed me that Christianity was very important to him, and showed me his... pages, of his novel in progress. The first pages were full of lavish and loving descriptions of hell; torture and hot pokers and sharks ripping open people who don't die, just scream and bleed without surcease...

I eased out of any future dates very carefully. And if I hear his name connected with some gruesome serial killing, I will not be one of those people saying on camera, "But he always seemed so nice and quiet."

There's More of Them Out There

Bradley Cooper at the "Whatever Works" Premiere, Tribeca Film Festival 2009 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It's not that I think that all men (or women) who are into feet are potential serial killers. I'm sure many of them are perfectly nice - I actually know one. Since he's my ex's best friend, we are Not. Going. There. Ever.

Besides, the man smokes cigars, and that's disgusting. (Next to cigars, feet prolly smell like roses.)

I've had wonderful foot massages as part of loveplay, but nothing that led me to believe my lover was especially into feet. Sucked a few toes, and had mine sucked, but doesn't everyone? And the Internet is now buzzing with stories about Bradley Cooper and his supposed foot fetish.

It's not that I want footplay to be a part of my sex life. I just liked the possibility.

I Liked Having Sexy Feet

As a teenager, my best friend was ~~kind of~~ a bitch. She had these dainty little feet - size five, I think - while I am five nine and have proportional-sized feet, 8 1/2. When we'd do the whole girlfriends-kicking-off-the-shoes thing, my shoes looked like rowboats next to her tiny ones.It awoke all the Cinderella's ugly stepsisters with big honking peasant hooves complex I'd carried since I was little.

Me: My God, my shoes are huge!

What girlfriends are supposed to say: No, you're tall, they're not big at all for someone your height.

What my (former) girlfriend would say: Yeah, they are pretty big. Too bad you can't go on a diet for your feet.

A pair of co-worker G's shoes.
I covet those butterflies!

Time passed. I worked with a woman five inches shorter than me. Who wore the cutest shoes, and had the same size feet as me. I realized if she could carry shoes that looked cute, with her height, so could I.

It was shortly after that that my feet were first propositioned. Even though my big toes, all squared off, still reminded me of Frankenstein's monster.

I went shoe mad, for a time. I bought strappy sandals and red pumps and gold snakeskin shoes and dainty black shoes with bows on the toes. I got pedicures and wore toe rings. My feet looked mostly adorable for years. But then they started hurting.

I knew what it was - I didn't want to admit it, but my older sister serves as kind of a canary in a coal mine for me. And she developed a serious case of Morton's neuroma - in both feet.

Hers was so bad (because she dragged her feet about seeing a podiatrist) that she had to have surgery. As she described it, they cut them open and scrape off the excess tissue buildup, like scraping meat off a chicken bone. *gagging*

My feet, not so bad (yet). All I needed to do was get some cortisone shots, and be fitted for custom orthotics to wear in my shoes every day.

My double or triple width shoes, flats only, which I have to wear for the rest of my life.

I Am Now a Lifetime Member of the Sisterhood of the Butt-Ugly Shoes

Plus I fail miserably at doing my own pedicures. Afterwards there is so much nail polish splattered all over my toes they look like they've participated in a serial murder.

Co-worker A

It's rather depressing. The women I work with wear shoes so sexy they'd bring tears of envy to the eyes of a porn star. And there I am, in my grandma shoes.

The only thing I have resisted so far is Birkenstocks (though I hear they're quite comfortable).

I've tried going to a regular shoe with just a little bitty heel once in a while, and it feels like I stepped on a nail. You can't look sexy unless you feel sexy, and you definitely can't strut your stuff when you're limping like you have a nail stuck in your foot.

Co-worker G

In fact, some days my foot feels like that anyway. I probably need another cortisone shot. Still hoping to avoid the gruesome meat-chicken-bone operation.

It's not like I was into the whole foot fetish thing. (Although I could make an exception for Bradley Cooper.) But I mourn the loss of my foot desirability. I want to be the one turning down the foot freaks, not be turned down by them.

But it is what it is. Now that I'm ~~old~~ a mature woman in the prime of her life, I know I should be damned grateful - and I am - that I have (relatively) healthy, functioning feet that take me where I want to go.

I would still like to punch that c**t Cinderella in the face.

Want to read more posts on aging gracefully (or fighting it all the way?)

Do you suffer shoe envy, or can you still wear the good stuff?

Have you ever made footplay part of your loveplay?

(You can tell me, I won't tell anyone.)

Your thoughts?

Five Favorite Books - ONLY Five ?!

2013-03-11T05:00:00.001-07:00

A game like this is like somebody asking you to pick your five favorite fingers, and cut off the rest. Only five? But Veronica Scott, who writes amazing romantic fiction set in ancient Egypt (and on spaceships), asked if I wanted to play.

Being a player, I couldn't say no.

Here's the top five that I keep going back to reread, discovering new nuggets every time.

Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell.
Rhett & Scarlett, two of the most fascinating characters of all time. Politically correct, no. Romanticized (and racist) look at slavery and the Civil War, absolutely. Still interesting to read as a reflection of that mindset. Not only that, but last time I reread it, I noticed Mitchell ended each chapter with a great cliffhanger.

The Lathe of Heaven - Ursula K. LeGuin
One of the most thought-provoking works I've ever read. What if when you had a certain kind of super-intense dream, what you dreamed came true? Only with that weird, twisted way dreams have of shifting reality, like dreaming that someone who annoyed you was killed in an accident. Then you woke up, and she was dead, had been dead, for years, and no one remembered the alternate reality. What if the person you went to for help decided to use that ability to reshape the world for the better?

Time Enough for Love - Robert Heinlein
I would so marry Woodrow Wilson Smith, aka Lazarus Long, if I got the chance. (Or at least invite him mattress-dancing.) Love, adventure, sex, time-travel, talking space-yachts and computers with personalities. Heinlein's I Will Fear No Evil is a close second.

Anne of Green Gables - L.M. Montgomery
Anne is the little girl we all once were, or wanted to be, an ugly orphan so lovable she won the heart of... pretty much everybody. In spite of (of because of) accidentally dying her hair green, her nose red, and other misadventures. I love the whole series down to Rilla of Ingleside. Looked at through older eyes, Montgomery does an amazing job creating characters and giving flavor to the interpersonal relationships - people are still the same, their wants, needs, and schemes don't change, regardless of era or setting.

The Mists of Avalon - Marion Zimmer Bradley
Morgaine le Fey, Arthur, Lancelet, Merlin, and Guinevere, with a heady swirling of magick and myth. The other legends are replayed as something of a battle between The Old Ways and Christianity, as well as between the civilized part of Britain vs. the Saxon invaders.

I'd grown up on tales that demonized Morgaine as an evil sorceress, and this gives a very different, heroic outlook to her part in the story. Love Morgaine, the Lady of the Lake, the priestesses of Avalon...

If I could keep the other five fingers...

Katherine - Anya Seton, with her Green Darkness a close second. A real life Cinderella story, the orphaned daughter of a poor knight becoming a Duchess, via a passionate love affair with a King's son. Lots of drama, heartbreak, and history (though the history part's more than a bit distorted, according to Alison Weir's non-fiction Mistress of the Monarchy).

Moreta, Dragonlady of Pern - Anne McCaffery
I adore all the Pern books, the Crystal Singer books, the Rowan books, the Freedom books, and... know I'm forgetting something. But this book, with its powerful queen rider in the prime of her life, with grown offspring, entering into a forbidden fling with a Holder, on the cusp of an epidemic that could wipe out the population of the entire planet, really hooks me.

The Proud Breed - Celeste de Blasis
Long, sprawling historical work, akin to the Thornbirds but set in California (and IMO, better written). Sixteen year old Teresa Maria Julietta Margarita Macleod y Amarista, granddaughter of a proud Californio tradition, stabs, then nurses and falls in love with Gavin Ramsay, Yankee trader. (We don't see that kind of romantic introduction much!)

We see the unusual partnership with Gavin's half Indian, half Negro friend, "Indian," and travel with them through the days of the ranchos, to the gold mining camps, to the settlement of San Francisco and the Civil War and beyond. There's romance, rape, betrayal, babies, gambling, war, adultery, friendship, scandal, and through it all, Tessa and Gavin, two distinct and compelling characters, as well as two generations of their descendants, battling for love.

Epic, in every sense of the word.

Wine of the Dreamers - Susannah Leigh
Parallel stories of Meryt, Egyptian princess, forced to marry a man she doesn't love, for political purposes, and Aimee, the pampered daughter of a Parisian merchant, also forced into an arranged marriage. Aimee's greedy husband believes he can make another fortune in Egypt, so he hires an ethical but broke archaeologist hot on the trail of an undiscovered royal tomb. The archaeologist is hot in other ways, and the tomb they discover belongs to an Egyptian princess... named Meryt. And what is the secret of the chalice left on the Egyptian woman's tomb?

The Ugly Little Boy - Isaac Asimov
This is actually a short story, later expanded into a novel with the co-writing of Robert Silverberg, and there's oodles of Asimov to read and enjoy. I loved the whole mind-bending of the story, of scientists who find a way to bring forward people from an earlier time, but only in a small enclosure, and for a limited period of time. They want to talk to them, take tissue samples, study how they move and behave. After scoring with a peasant from the Renaissance, they manage to bring forward a small Neanderthal boy. If this story doesn't make you cry you have no heart. And afterwards, it'll make you think.

There's more, of course, I love Isabel Allende and Anaïs Nin and Sylvia Plath, I'm a big Mercedes Lackey fan, plus Lisa Hendrix, Grace Burrowes, Norah Lofts, Piers Antony, Tessa Dare, Diana Paxson, Robert Silverberg, and anything about Tudor England or the Titanic. As favorite non-fiction writers, I like Antonia Fraser, Sharon Begley, Walter Isaacson and Daniel Pink..

And I must recommend Veronica Scott's Priestess of the Nile and Wreck of the Nebula Dream. Both very different novellas - one set in ancient Egypt, the other aboard a Titanic-esque starliner of the future. Both quick, fun reads. I do review what I read on GoodReads (eventually), so feel free to Friend me there and lets talk books.

If you like my choices (or if you don't), check out these Fabulous Five writer/bloggers' picks (their posts will be up sometime soon):

Brenda Moguez of Passionate Pursuits
Babs at Zero to Sixty and Beyond
Kim Sisto Robinson of My Inner Chick posted hers on Skirt
Rebekah Weatherspoon of Let Us See, Shall We
Samanthe Beck

Have you read any of the books on my Favorites List?

Could you narrow your Favorites down to five?

Ann & Nancy Wilson - My Big Sisters

2013-03-07T05:00:00.000-08:00

Cover of Ann Wilson

They're not, actually. (Their mom would be stealing their song WTF?)

A girlfriend introduced me to Dog and Butterfly, the song, and the album, when I was a young teen, and I was instantly hooked. Women with power, passion, and talent? My sisters, in spirit if not of blood.

I think this is my favorite Heart album cover
Not theirs - Ann loves Bebe Le Strange

I went back, collected Little Queen, Magazine, and Dreamboat Annie in cassette (all on my iPod now). Couldn't wait for Bebe Le Strange to come out and saw Heart on that tour at the LA Forum in 1980. Have collected most of their albums since then - and Red Velvet Car rocks, all these decades later. Somehow the combination of melody, harmony, and lyrics made me feel that they knew me - and that I knew them.

But it wasn't until I listened to their autobiography, Kicking and Dreaming that I felt I really did know them.

Genuine Heart fanatics who've followed every Rolling Stone and Circus and fanzine interview may feel like there's nothing genuinely new here.

Generally when it comes to books, I'm a reader, not a listener. I like turning pages and looking at the pretty pictures, okay? But a friend was insistent on giving me a couple of audiobooks for Christmas, I'd been wanting to read Kicking and Dreaming, and when I saw it was read by Ann and Nancy themselves, I was sold.

There are also sections read by their sister Lynn, and by others, like their co-songwriter Sue Ennis, and the band's former manager (and Ann's ex) Mike Fisher, lead guitarist (and Nancy's ex) Roger Fisher, Howard Leese, and more. There's a narrator who announces who's speaking. Unnecessary in the case of the Wilsons. Nancy's voice is sweet, and she has a way of inflecting sentences in the MIDdle, almost as if they are a QUEStion. Ann's voice is richer and lower in timbre, but was also somewhat raspy, and I wondered if she recorded her narration with a cold.

It's quite long - almost nine hours. I became impatient with all the backstory - where's the Magic, Man? But as it continued, I saw how it all fit together.

Women in rock had traditionally been offered two places - at the microphone, and in a hotel bed, as groupies.

English: Nancy Wilson of the American rock band Heart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ann and Nancy didn't want to be the Beatles' girlfriends, like their friends did - they wanted to be the Beatles; to play their own music, write their own songs, to be feminine and sexy and powerful. So they drew inspiration from ancestress Hannah Dustin, who wielded a mighty axe of her own, in a way that had not been expected of her.

Ann was raised on the story of their mother Lou taking the train from Oregon to the East Coast to marry their father, Dotes. So why shouldn't Ann leave the US for love, to find Mike Fisher in Canada?

The life of Marine military brats, never staying anywhere long enough to have houseplants, always packing up and moving to their father's latest posting, set them up for the gypsy life of a touring rock band. The military uniforms even influenced some of their costumes in the 1980's. Well, that, and Ann's major crush on Marlon Brando as Fletcher Christian in Mutiny on the Bounty.

No, They Can't Pass for Girls in their Twenties Anymore

So why is this fact treated as if the Wilsons have somehow betrayed their fans by daring to grow older (and sometimes heavier)? They are in their sixties (or close to it, in Nancy's case). They have had hit records in five fucking decades, and yet, some reviewers continually pan them based on the "distraction" of Ann's fluctuating size. K & D discusses Ann's struggles with her weight going back to pre-adolescence (something I can certainly relate to), and the pressure this put upon her, and the band - as if the only accepted standard of beauty is thin, and the only measure of musical quality for a femme-led band is not voice, nor songwriting quality, nor musical performance, but the size and shape of the female members.

I adore Robert Plant (who, meaning no disrespect, looks like he has been "ridden hard and put away wet too many times"), and Led Zeppelin, who turned out incredible, groundbreaking music in the nine years they performed as a band. But reality is, he can't still still carry this song... and Ann can.

Btw, that's Jason Bonham (John's son) on drums
Love love love the gospel choirs & orchestra arrangement. Gives me goosebumps

Something I discovered in listening to K & D, was that Heart originally performed a 30-minute set of Led Zeppelin covers every night as part of their 5 hour set in Vancouver. That they were even dubbed by some as "Little Led Zeppelin."

Crazy On You

Ann had joined a Seattle band that included guitarist Roger Fisher, who surprised Ann with her first glimpse of "full frontal" male nudity in a post-gig hotel room.

And then she met his brother, Michael.

Ann talks frankly about her love/obsession for Michael Fisher. Quitting the band and taking off for Canada (whence M. Fisher had gone to escape the Vietnam draft), and living with him in a little round house over a stream, in a bed built on driftwood branches. "It completely took me over," she says.

Can you relate to "losing it" for a Magic Man - or Woman?

Michael Fisher was Heart's first manager. He had a "five year plan," and was quite controlling of various details, including Ann's diet. When Nancy joined the band, she became involved with lead guitarist Roger Fisher, Michael's younger brother, forming as it were a"never-ending double date," with Ann and Michael as the alpha couple. The problem (or one of them) was that Roger "wasn't built for monogamy," something Nancy discovered early on, but accepted/tolerated, until her attraction to drummer (Michael) Derosier inspired her to make a formal break with Roger.

Sometimes a woman (or man) can take so much, for so long,in the interest of preserving a relationship, and then it simply becomes too much.

I love the brass horns on this; not so sure about Nancy's sailor suit

Roger Fisher was very open about his "dalliances," but part of the issue was his drug use (something not unique to Roger), and another part was that while he was a brilliant performer live, he struggled when called upon to lay down studio tracks, repetion after repetition. After a period of intense friction within the band, RF was voted out, and shortly after, Ann's boyfriend Michael (who had also strayed physically and emotionally), was gone as well.

Bebe Le Strange was the first post-Wilshers (Wilson-Fishers) album, and although it was still filled with passion and emotion and sold well, the two albums that followed, Private Audition and Passionworks, met lackluster sales. Most chart-breaking rock bands never lasted beyond five years. Was Heart finished?

Leave It To Cleavage

Heart dubbed every concert tour with a nickname. A tour particularly laden with accidents and mishaps was subbed the "Crash and Burn" tour.

The Eighties were dusted with a fine white powder called cocaine for almost everyone in in the music industry, Heart included. New management, new record label. MTV was the big thing, calling for expen$ive video productions costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, corsets, hair spray, stilettos, and musical compromises like outside songwriters that it sounds like, in retrospect, the Wilson sisters greatly regret. (Though they wouldn't say so outright, perhaps so as not to alienate their fans who loooove their eighties material, which brought them greater Billboard charting than previous efforts.)

I do love this song, and many, if not all, of their eighties hits, especially There's The Girl

Ann and Nancy did refer to it, however, as a "Deal with the Devil." Fans who'd seen the videos expected to see the hairsprayed, elaborately made-up Wilson sisters in concert. Never mind that moving across the stage in heels for two hours ain't the same thing as a .3 second shot in a video. Additionally, the almost continuous MTV-play of their 80's material meant that instead of fame expanding their worlds, their worlds were shrunk. Following the assassination of John Lennon by a crazed fan, and death threats against them, Ann and Nancy could not even hang out in the lobby of their hotels. They would bring a VCR in their baggage, order room service, and hole up in their hotel rooms, watching classic movies like Gone With The Wind, rather than being free to explore their host city.

Ann also detailed the painful experience, early on, of learning that the groupie/one night stand experience was not something she could experiment with. The band had visited a club in one tour city, there had been been many attractive people there, including an attractive and charming male fan Ann invited back to her hotel room.

In the morning, she awoke to hearing him call in to a radio station with a whispered, "Guess who I'm in bed with?" This wouldn't have been radio-worthy for an Aerosmith groupie, or a Rolling Stones groupie, but it brought home the point that "road romances" were not gender-neutral.

Other Miscellaneous Details of Kicking and Dreaming

It bugged me that although song lyrics were spoken, there weren't audio clips of the songs, or the lyrics being sung, rather than read. Copyright issues, no doubt.
The intriguing details about the Magazine album, and finishing it under armed guard.
I loved hearing about the "birth" of one of my favorite songs, Mistral Wind.
The many stars who tried (and failed) to bed the Wilson sisters, either separately or together.
Ann referring to "the song writing me," something I often feel about a story.
The glimpses of the birth of the Seattle grunge movement, and Ann as one of its "mothers," down to sheltering its stars in her home and (platonically) in her bed.
I cannot now remember which Heart band member wore unitards so as to show off his third nipple.
The birth of the Lovemongers acoustic group.
The 1995 official Heart hiatus as Nancy needed to work on babymaking.

I highly recommend this book - loved the audio version, and plan to pick up the hardcopy, when funds permit, as well as fill in the holes in my Heart musical collection.

Leaving you with one last taste, one of my ultimate favorites, Love Alive. It's got everything (except top recording quality): amazing vocals, Ann's flute, fabulous interaction between Nancy and Roger, great guitar solo, wonderful acoustic guitar, driving bass, blood harmonies...

Are you keeping your Love Alive?

Have you read or listened to Kicking and Dreaming?

Do you have your own Heart memory?

If you have one, what's your favorite Heart or Lovemonger song?

Slut of the Month: Jezebel

2013-03-04T05:00:00.000-08:00

English: Jezebel and Ahab Meeting Elijah in Naboth's Vineyard Giclee. Print by Sir Frank Dicksee. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Her name has come to represent the symbol of an uppity, slutty woman. It's the name of a movie, a butterfly, and of a popular website. But who was Jezebel, anyway?

By marrying Ahab, King of Israel, Jezebel became Queen - and a very powerful one.

From How Bad Was Jezebel? (Biblical Archaelogy Review):

As the Books of Kings recount, the princess Jezebel is brought to the northern kingdom of Israel to wed the newly crowned King Ahab, son of Omri (1 Kings 16:31). Her father is Ethbaal of Tyre, king of the Phoenicians, a group of Semites whose ancestors were Canaanites. Phoenicia consisted of a loose confederation of city-states, including the sophisticated maritime trade centers of Tyre and Sidon on the Mediterranean coast. The Bible writer’s antagonism stems primarily from Jezebel’s religion. The Phoenicians worshiped a swarm of gods and goddesses, chief among them Baal, the general term for “lord” given to the head fertility and agricultural god of the Canaanites. As king of Phoenicia, it is likely that Ethbaal was also a high priest or had other important religious duties. According to the first-century C.E. historian Josephus, who drew on a Greek translation of the now-lost Annals of Tyre, Ethbaal served as a priest of Astarte, the primary Phoenician goddess. Jezebel, as the king’s daughter, may have served as a priestess as she was growing up. In any case, she was certainly raised to honor the deities of her native land.

<snip> Jezebel does not accept Ahab’s God, Yahweh. Rather, she leads Ahab to tolerate Baal. This is why she is vilified by the Deuteronomist, whose goal is to stamp out polytheism.

Map showing the Kingdoms of Israel (blue) and Judah (orange), ancient levant borders and ancient cities such as Urmomium and Jerash. The map shows the region in the 9th century BCE. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The LORD was a hard sell in 9th Century BC. If you read Numbers and Deuteronomy, they're full of rules that are a beast to carry out. Plus his prophets are always smiting and cursing people, or bringing down she-bears to rip apart little boys. Additionally, there was a big theological as well as political split between the kingdoms of Judah and Israel. Each of those countries claimed to be worshiping the One True God in The Only Right Way, and claiming the other Jewish people had gone astray.

In the meantime, the native peoples of the area had long worshiped other gods and goddesses; deities who were more tolerant and fun than the jealous and somewhat neurotic LORD. It was natural for them to return to the old ways, and natural for Jezebel, who may herself have been a priestess, to hold onto her own religious upbringing when she moved into the country next door, but Elijah didn't see it that way.

Jezebel Wasn't One to Weep and Wail

One of the other things Jezebel is accused of, in the Biblical story, is setting up a man named Naboth who refused to sell land to her husband King Ahab. Ahab was so upset he:

lay on his bed, turned away his face, and would eat no food. (1 Kings 21:4)

I'm not sure what a "proper" wife would've done - joined her husband's childish tantrum, until they both starved to death? (On a side note, 2 Kings 10 states that Ahab had seventy sons in Samaria alone, so clearly Jezebel was not The Only Woman in his life. But since no other queens or concubines are mentioned by name, clearly Jezebel was the one who counted.)

If the stories are true, Jezebel personally arranged to have Naboth falsely accused of blasphemy. He was then stoned, and voila, the coveted property dropped into Ahab's happy lap.

She not only took action, but she used the religion she despised as a tool to make it happen. That is either stone cold wicked or amazingly chill, depending on your point of view.

Can You Say Double Standard?

One classic Biblical story is that of King David, who committed adultery with Uriah the Hittite's wife Bathsheba and knocked her up. Next David tried to trick him (Uriah) into having sex with her so he'd assume the baby she was carrying was his. Failing that, David set Uriah up to be killed. Even by the standards of the time, these behaviors were considered unsavory all around. The death of the love child shortly after his birth was considered to be a judgement from the LORD.

Yet David would still hold God's favor, and the next child he and Bathsheba had, Solomon, would become king after him.

Clearly, if Jezebel had Naboth set up, it was not for personal gain or power, but out of loyalty and concern for her husband. But it's not entirely clear that she did set him up; 1 Kings states:

So she wrote letters in Ahab's name and sealed them with his seal

SealofJezabel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Archaeologists are in possession of what appears to be Jezebel's seal. As a queen powerful enough to have her own seal (this was a very rare and unusual thing), she had no need to use that of her husband or forge letters in his name. She could write them in her own damn name.

If the Bible is wrong about the seal, it's possible some of the other details could be wrong, too. Maybe Jezebel was a cunning and ruthless woman, but in twenty-two years of Ahab's rule, the two years that followed of her son Ahaziah's rule, and then the twelve years that followed during her son Joram's reign, these are only the two negative stories about her - that she protected the priests of Ba'al and persecuted those of the LORD, and that that she had Naboth killed.

Wore Too Much Makeup?

The third story is that when Jehu, who killed both her son, King Joram, and Ahaziah, King of Judah (in ambush after asking for a parley), came into the city of Jezreel, Jezebel "painted her eyes and adorned her head." Some have spun this as harlotry and an attempt to seduce her son's murderer. (Really? When if she had become queen at fourteen years old she still had to be fifty or older?) Others see it more as a display of royal pride and dignity, akin to Benjamin Guggenheim dressing in his tux in the Titanic's final hours, so as to go down like a gentleman. She knew she too was about to be killed, but she was not the type to cringe and beg for mercy.

In any event, some of Jehu's cohorts threw her body out of the window, he and his company trampled her body with their horses, and went in to eat and drink. (This is the upstanding guy who violated a parley and shot both Joram and Ahaziah in the back, according to 2 Kings 9.)

Where do the stories of Jezebel come from? In the end, history is told by the winners - or those whose writings have survived.

Elijah Was The Donald Trump of the Old Testament

You can barely turn a page without seeing the name Elijah plastered onto something or given credit for some mighty act of bravery. He is always portrayed in a heroic, righteous way, and was the top prophet of the LORD [according to himself].

Elijah pitted himself directly against Jezebel, and though he won a few battles, for the most part he lost the war, often fleeing the country or hiding out in caves.

A power struggle. And a woman was winning?! Intolerable. Later, his protege Elisha took up both Elijah's mantle and his grudges, including the one(s) against Jezebel. You will not be surprised to learn that Elisha also is credited with many miracles (as well as setting the bears to tear the boys into bits for teasing him).

Jezebel Was My Kind of Slut

Common Jezebel (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Frankly, I take the bad-mouthing against Jezebel by Elijah and Elisha to be more like a recommendation; they are what's known in the writing craft as "unreliable narrators." In our current age we have talk radio "prophets" and other pundits who also rant and seethe over strong women. Their derogatory language and twisting of facts speaks more to their own fears and questionable manhood, than it does to the character of the women they attack.

Jezebel may not have been all sweetness and light; she may in fact have had blood of innocent people on her hands. She also held firm to her personal beliefs, took action to get what she wanted for her husband (at a time when he was sulking like a two year old), raised as least two sons to be Kings, and met a horrific death with courage and dignity. Despite centuries-old efforts to smear her reputation, hints of the real Jezebel shine through, and I believe that's why most women do not consider it an insult to be called a "Jezebel."

Future Slut of the Month Candidates:

Mae West
Joan of Kent
Cleopatra
Sandra Fluke
Morgan le Fey
Aspasia
Madonna
Liz Taylor
Dorothy Parker
Kassandra of Troy
Tullia d'Aragona
Marie Antoinette
Lillie Langtry
Anne Boleyn
Eleanor Roosevelt
Rhiannon
Shelley Winters
Mary, Queen of Scots
"Klondike Kate" Rockwell
Catherine de Medici
Lucrezia Borgia
Umrao Jaan
Eleanor of Aquitaine
Theodora (wife of Emperor Justinian of the Byzantine Empire)
Jeanne d'Arc
Margaret Sanger
Hwang Jin-i
Coco Chanel
Sappho
Joan of Kent
Catherine the Great
the "Unsinkable" Molly Brown
Eva Perón
Susan B. Anthony
Diana, Princess of Wales
Anaïs Nin (coming next month!)
Hillary Rodham Clinton
Mata Hari
Malala Yousafzai

What do you think of Jezebel? Do you think she was evil?
Who's your favorite slut?

Vote for one on this list, or name another slut to be added to it.

The Deeper Horror of the Go Daddy Kiss

2013-02-25T05:00:00.000-08:00

This commercial made me feel deeply ashamed of my own hypocrisy.

I admit it. I gagged.

My full range of knowledge about these two actors is that she is what we consider traditionally beautiful, and he is... not.

Oh, and that they both possess bodies capable of sitting in chairs. I also deduced they both have lips. And they certainly have tongues.

Are they nice people?

Smart, funny? Is there any reason they couldn't be a couple? They're of similar age, they might share endless common interests, like anime, concern about genetically modified foods, and a groupie-level fascination with 80's hair bands like Dokken.

Okay, I admit - I am the one with a Dokken obsession.
Unchain the night, baby!

For all I know, Jesse Heiman (the glasses guy) has a tongue that won't quit and is packing a pecker a p0rn star would envy.

Yet to judge from the internet buzz, I was not the only one making the Beyoncé face.

via msn, where there are more hilarious Beyoncé face memes.

So why did I - why did we - react that way?

I am not a traditionally beautiful woman

English: George Clooney at the 2009 Venice Film Festival (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Though occasionally I am smokin' hot, there are other times I look like the dog's breakfast. Generally I fall somewhere in between - my face doesn't scare small children, but I ain't causing traffic accidents when I walk down the street.

I certainly don't want people to sneer at me as unworthy to be paired with a sexy guy (should George Clooney become available), based purely on my iffy looks. I know that I am much more than appears on the surface. Hey, I got skillz.

I've dated men of all different sizes, shapes, and skin tones. Plus I am very ~~inquisitive~~ nosy and people tell me things. So I can testify, many men (and women) who'd never grace a romance cover are amazing in bed, and some men who are hotties on the outside... Let's just say they have their shortcomings.

(Not implying that about you, George. But if you feel compelled to give me a demonstration, we could work something out.)

I'd like to blame society

You know, those people over there, not me - for being judgmental about people based solely on outward appearance. Reality: I am judgmental about appearances. Despite all I know on an intellectual level, despite my personal experiences and time-tested method of asking around, despite my resentment of people who might look at me and make superficial judgments, I myself am judgmental.

I may not go all Beyoncé face in public. When I see a "10" walking down the street with a "2," I may be able to zip my lips and not make a derogatory comment. But inside, that's my first, gut reaction.

I really, really don't like this about myself, and want to change my internal settings somehow, just as I'd like to reset my taste buds to remember kale as irresistibly delicious and chocolate as something nasty to be avoided.

They say the first step is awareness

for solving any problem. So, okay, I'm aware I'm a hypocrite. I'm also very conscious of being part of a society with a twisted concept of beauty that influences girls, boys, men and women to starve themselves, sometimes to death, to try to achieve that "perfect" outward appearance. To surgically add breasts, pecs, and fake butts, and suck out fat from other areas. Which sometimes works and other times leaves the recipient looking like a freak show exhibit.

Oddly, I find I don't feel as judgmental on women (and men) who have plastic surgery, the facelifts, the tummy tucks, the Botox in the forehead, because I "get" the pressure of needing to feel young and sexy.

I've thought about trying to have my brain deprogrammed, but since it's awash in magazine ads and TV commercials telling us all that beauty = XYZ, any brainwashing might not stick. Besides, if it did stick, I might lose my crushes on Don Dokken and George Clooney, and my lack of patronage could singlehandedly crash the chocolate industry.

I guess I'll just have to work on not getting squicked out by public couples like Bar Refaeli and Jesse Heiman. (Though as a side note, the public tonsil-swallowing? Nobody wants to see that.) I will keep writing couples into my fiction work where the characters are not Cosmo Cover-ready, yet are sexy anyway. I will try to be aware of my prejudices, and supportive of people regardless of their appearance.

Have you ever felt judged harshly for being with a partner

who was much more or less attractive than you?

Do you find yourself put off by couples who appear physically mismatched?

If so, how do you deal with it?

Purging the Dreaded File Cabinet

2013-02-21T05:00:00.000-08:00

So a couple of months ago, I was irritatingly smug about cleaning my desk. Cleaning my desk was an excellent thing, truly, but the thing is, only a few feet away lurked...

The Dreaded File Cabinet. <insert "da-da-doom" creepy sound effect here>

You see, I bought this very lovely file cabinet for my office, lo these several years ago. Problem: rail guides in top drawer did not allow for hanging file folders, because they were not drilled in the right place. The drawer itself glided in and out beautifully, but not anything inside the drawer.

So, because I couldn't use hanging file folders in it, I simply piled old notebooks and manila folders and three ring binders and wire-bound notebooks and paperclipped copies of critiqued short stories that I needed to edit and magazines on writing and all kinds of crap into the top drawer. And because it just felt wrong to make the bottom drawer my "working" drawer, I simply filed various bullshit in the second drawer, like my sixth grade report card and travel brochures for the Kern River.

Just FYI, one of my earliest novels still retains the pin-fed paper guides on each side.

In a working human body, you consume food, and excrete waste. If you don't get rid of the crap, you will reach a point where you not only feel terrible, but can't function.

My writing had become constipated.

Time for a high colonic.

I realized that the issue of the top rails not functioning was not a Decree from on High. I could, in fact, drill new holes and move the rails, so that they worked. I was a little nervous, because I was sure I was gonna drill right through and mess up the aesthetic front of the cabinet, but I - didn't.

Woo-hoo, me! *swaggers and blows sawdust off drill bit* Look out, Builder Bob, there's a new carpenter in... No, not really. I just got lucky.

So I made an Office Depot run (does anyone else squee whenever you are forced to make a trip to an office supply store?) and bought box-bottom hanging file folders, and set up a section for each novel. Outline/synopsis, research docs, character studies, working drafts. Query Letter. Rejections folder. Book Contracts (none yet, but I'm keepin' hope alive).

I had been collecting tidbits about locations, from NoHo to the RenFaire to Griffith Park and had already set up file folders containing notes, magazine articles, etc. about each one. I moved those to the front, since I ~~might~~ will want to use them for more than one novel.

A full 25% of my top file drawer is now set aside for short stories, on most of which I need to actually review the crit notes and revise. And now I can.

My Hoard of Great (but ancient) Writers' Magazines? Bye-bye.

In theory, I was planning to go through each magazine, xerox the best articles, and put them into a three-ring binder, neatly organized with tabs. In reality? Ain't happened in the last 20 years, ain't gonna happen.

But I did keep about 50 really, really good articles, both from traditional magazines, and the 'Net, that I thought were worth revisiting. Here's how I organized them.

Section One:

Genre Glossary (from Dystopian to Steampunk to Magical Realism to Cozy Mystery)
Outlining
Synopses
On Learning/Writing Style (Visual, Auditory, Tactile)
Characters (main)
Characters (secondary)
POV (Point of View)
Staying Motivated/Writers' Block
Craft Exercises
Vocabulary and Cliches, Duplicate Phrases

All my great articles, mid-organization

(My writing style is to figure out everything out about my characters, first, down to whether they're a fan of broccoli or not, and worry about plot later. You may go at it in the opposite direction: plot first, characters second. )

Section Two

Plotting
Dialogue & Dialogue Tags
Openings Pages
Hooks
Ending Pages
When to Tell, When to Show
Common Problems
Writing Humor
Writing Romance
On Prologues
Editing

Section Three

On Writers Groups
On Agents (Why You do/don't want one, How to tell a good one)
Queries
Pitching
Market Research
On Rejection
Book Proposals
Publishing Contracts
On Self-Publishing

All the articles neatly organized. Yeah, file folders!

My plan is that now that my articles are in an order that makes sense to me, it will be easier to review the pieces I need when I get stuck in some area, or to quickly add a new article I love. I still think a three-ring notebook would be a great idea, in theory...

Scribbling 'R Us

I tend to jot down notes on whatever notebook I am carrying around with me at the time. And, of course, I continually bought lots and lots of new notebooks, because you can really only record fresh new ideas in a fresh new notebook.

If there was any actual value to a barely consumed wire-bound notebook, I would now be rich. But what I have done is tear out all those nuggets of what I thought were brilliant ideas *snort* and put them in one file folder, to be gone through... soon. While the notebooks are now freed up for new ideas, as I have become less finicky about only using virgin notebooks in my ~~old age~~ prime of life.

Oh, dear sweet sentimental youth, I found a wire-bound notebook with a carousel horse on the cover.

Not that there's anything wrong with carousel horses. Or dolphins. Or big-eyed teddy bears.

It's just that I'm not 17 anymore.

I have also noticed that my handwriting has vastly changed over the years, morphing from "Tortured-curlique" to "Screw-it- I-have-better-things-to-do" style.

Good thing I have a heavy-duty shredder.

Aaah. I feel relieved.

Cleansed, even.

And I didn't even need to spray air freshener.

True, it did take most of the day (though I feared it would take even longer than that). I still have to look at all my scribbled notes - you never know, might be gold in them thar hills!

I also found a recipe I'd been looking for. Seeing as it involves major quantities of shredded hash browns and cheese, this may not be a good thing.

My hands are beat all to hell - deep paper/file folder cuts, shallow cuts, dry and ashy.

The cat went to bed without me.

But I have a deep sense of satisfaction. And a couple dozen half-fresh notebooks ready to record new ideas.

I'm starting with the carousel horse one.

When was the last time you purged a file cabinet?

Did you find anything surprising there?
Do you keep articles on writing? Any tips on organizing them?

Rumor Has It...

2013-02-18T05:00:00.000-08:00

Doesn't that short phrase perk your ears up? It sure does mine.

What surprises me, is that I recently checked out two books in the library, two very different books, one chosen for my reading group, and the other at random, and in both books the power of rumor in a small town makes up a big part of the plot.

Stones from the River, by Ursula Hegi, published in 1994, is an epic novel set in the fictional town of Burgdorf, Germany, beginning in 1914 and concluding in 1952. It's about 530 pages, dense pages, 5 x 8 book size pages.

Kristan Higgins' Catch of the Day, published in 2007 is a wicked funny, contemporary romance, a trade paperback of under 400 pages, set in fictional Gideon's Cove, Maine, and covers the course of one year.

While there is no population stated for Burgdorf, Gideon's Cove is 1,407; Burgdorf feels about the same size. Both lead characters (Trudi and Maggie) are in charge of a town gathering spot; Trudi runs (with her father) the town's pay-library; Maggie runs (inherited from her grandfather) the town's only diner. Both women are Catholic and the church is a fairly significant part of their lives and of the town's events. Trudi looks for a date in the classified ads of the newspaper; Maggie looks at online dating sites.

So how do these books differ?

In Stones from the River, there are Nazis. (Then again in Catch of the Day, there's Mrs. Plutarski, the priest's secretary, who comes off as something of a Nazi.)

Trudi is a Zwerg, a dwarf. This makes her a bit of an outsider, and what makes matters worse, her mother is crazy. As in, going to church and taking off all her clothes for the angels, crazy. Then she dies before Trudi is even four years old. Trudi learns to collect stories, and takes pride in retelling them, reshaping them, making them her own. She also has a touch of prescience.

The Jewish people in Burgdorf are an integral part of the town, initially. But slowly, over the course of years, they are first subtly demonized. There are the German people, and there are the Jews, Us and Them. After the feeling of separation is created, after people have come to tolerate the Jews being insulted, cheated, stones thrown at their windows, they may have their fine houses and businesses taken away. If a Jewish person is thriving while the rest of Germany is in recession, it's easy enough to play on the resentment of the neighbors. Surely those things couldn't have been honestly earned. Once moved to the outskirts of town, they are then moved to other towns, and finally the "work camps." Hegi does a powerful job of portraying how such a horror can come about. At first, rather than protesting their mistreatment, many of the Jewish people themselves believe that if they just keep a low profile, this too shall pass. By the time the harassment gets serious, it is also taken for granted. Those who protest and speak up to defend their neighbors, are also jailed and harassed.

I found this part of the story fascinating. I found Trudi herself sometimes admirable, generally interesting, and other times not very likable. In the beginning, when she believes that if she hangs from her arms, it will stretch her out and she will grow, I felt very sorry for her, and was moved by her experience of meeting another Zwerg, a beautiful and talented woman named Pia who was comfortable in her own skin. Then there's the search for a boyfriend or lover, because like any girl, she wants to be kissed, and loved. Trudi is definitely a complex, but not comfortable character. She uses rumors - collecting them, spreading them - to get back at those who've hurt her, or who've persecuted their Jewish neighbors.

I think about 90% of the book is told from Trudi's point of view, including the first third. The early chapters move slowly, and several readers in my book group gave up right there. As Trudi's voice becomes older, it becomes much more compelling. The end, on the other hand, is a little choppy, as if the author realized how incredibly long the book was already, and felt the need to wind it up quickly. All in all, this is an excellent book, rich in description, and well worth the read.

***

Cover of Catch Of The Day

Maggie, in Catch of the Day, is the unmarried half of identical twins. Her sister Christy has a great husband, a beautiful baby, and a very nice house. Maggie is happy for her sister, but doesn't see why she can't have the same thing for herself. Then Tim O'Halloran comes into the diner: light brown hair, green eyes, broad shoulders, beautiful hands, and an Irish brogue. She falls in instant crush, and the only thing missing is what the man does for a living, because as he was telling her, there was a hubbub in the diner, and she missed that part of their conversation. She felt too embarrassed to ask him to repeat it, but that's okay, she'll be seeing him in church on Sunday.

You guessed it, it's Father Tim. Unfortunately, Maggie is the kind of woman who finds it hard to keep a secret, so half the people in the pews know all about her hot Irishman, and turn to stare at her as the new priest appears at the altar and introduces himself. The book is light, hilariously funny, as Maggie gets into one dating scrape after another, not always her fault. She owns and runs the diner, to her mother's vast disapproval, she also owns a small house in which she rents an apartment to a 91-year-old widow, to whom she brings food, watches movies with, and cuts bunion pads for. Maggie also babysits her baby niece one night a week, and does Meals on Wheels one night a week.

Her hero, besides her dog, Colonel, is Malone, the lobsterman who berths his boat next to her brother's. Malone is almost a caricature of a Maine lobsterman. Nobody even knows the man's first name. In this story, Maggie manages to generate and spread rumors that hurt not only herself, but the man she's fallen for, and her friends.

Although I really like Higgins' engaging voice, and adore her sense of humor, I found it a little hard to read it first, because it's written in first person, present tense. "I ask, I say, I smile, I stand, my mouth drops open…" I also wanted a little more emotional connection and conversation between Malone and Maggie. I felt Maggie was doing too much work trying to build a relationship out of great sex, but in the end it all worked out. (This is not the case in real life, boys and girls.)

Have you read either of these books?

Have rumors ever gotten you in trouble?

Would people call you a good gossip, or a good secret-keeper?

*Beverly Diehl's Writing in Flow*

Honeymoon Haven - or Anytime Getaway

Two out of Three Ain't Bad

Help Me, Help Me - Headshot Hell

I decided to go with a pro.

So, I need help.

McLovin' It? Surprisingly, Yes #FlipYourMorning

You'll be shocked (not!) to know that Americans tend to overbuy and overeat.

Say It With Me: "Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day."

What Lurked Behind The Counter at McDonald's

Slut of the Month: Anne Boleyn

Cunning Linguists, A Family Tradition

You Wouldn't Like Him When He's Angry

Catherine? Catherine of Aragon, there's a call from the convent for you.

Young Catherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VIII of England, by Michel Sittow. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)As opposed to how she's often been portrayed, Catherine was originally a strawberry blonde, never a "dark Spaniard."

The English People Weren't Anne Fans, Back in the Day

Why Did Anne Lose Her Babies?

Beheading is a Rather Extreme Cure for a Nagging Tongue

Sex, Drugs,and Rock 'n Roll on the Cali-Oregon Border

Which brings us to Drugs, er, Weed.

Not enough rock for you?

Thank You, All Who Served

Mas-tur-BA-tion! Can Be Fu-un

More than 70-80% of women masturbate, and 90% of men masturbate. And the rest lie. (Joycelyn Elders)

We Can Do It - We Just Can't Talk About It

I'm Doing It For You, Honey - Masturbation Can Improve Your Partnered Sex Life

The Objects of My Affection

We're Not Only the Talent, But The Casting Agency, Screenwriter, and Director.

We have reason to believe that man first walked upright to free his hands for masturbation. (Lily Tomlin)

Devotee Romance - Interview with Ruth Madison

Sex and the Differently-Abled

People fall in love

In some cases, it's looking past the physical attributes, disability or disorder.

Others are initially attracted to others because of those physical attributes.

Slut of the Month: Ava Gardner

"She can't sing, she can't act, she can't talk, She's terrific. Sign her!"

Her list of men was almost as long as her list of films.

Her beauty made people underestimate her talent.

Seriously Sick Series

Two of the Times Someone Raped Me (Part III) #saam #rape

The concept that any rape victims "wanted it" because they dressed provocatively or got drunk is like saying that jaywalkers wanted to be hit by a car.

The common factor in all rapes? Presence of one or more rapists.

"No One Will Believe You" is a Lie From the Pits of Hell

If You Don't Hear a Very Clear Yes, It Means No.

Saying Yes Once Does Not Mean Lifetime Access

Thinking that no partner will want you because you've been raped is like thinking that no merchant will want your money after you’ve been mugged.

Rape Doesn't (Have To) Ruin Your Life

Talk of the Town Today, Forgotten Tomorrow

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On A Scale of 1 to 10, This Joke Rates a -20.

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Sometimes It’s Hard To Tell Who The Good Guys Are

I Know I Got Off Lucky

The Boyfriend Issue

How The Mount Everest of Dog Diarrhea Helped Me Get Over My Rape

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Rape Is A Many Splendored Thing

He Wasn't Even A Very Good Kisser

Why didn't I call out for help?

I Thought Boy B Must Really Like Me, Like All The Romance Heroes

The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same

Rape is shameful - for rapists. Rape should not be shameful for rape victims.

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I am constantly buying cat toys,

I too am a big girl.

I feel confident I could restrict my diet and vigorously exercise and take off the excess weight.

I adore Stinky, in all her glorious Stinky abundance.

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There comes a time in every wallet's life when you have to step away from the cash register.

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I'm happy to purchase books when funds permit, but my wallet is even happier that I'm also a book borrower through my public library.

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Beverly Diehl's Writing in Flow

Young Catherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VIII
of England, by Michel Sittow. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
As opposed to how she's often been portrayed,
Catherine was originally a strawberry blonde,
never a "dark Spaniard."