A-Musing Henry Rollins

Photo by: Nic Walker

God, I love Henry Rollins. Smart, handsome, funny and interesting--everything museworthy. He's a radio announcer, vocalist, columnist, writer, punk icon and much more. Oh, and he's also Brave. He's touring Canada in January. It was -17 Celsius in Edmonton last night. Note the capital 'B'.

My husband and I got to see him last night, doing one of his spoken word shows. In fact, when I told my husband Henry Rollins was coming to Edmonton his response was "Oh yeah, let's go!"  You see we saw him a few years back, and I have never heard my husband laugh so much and so hard. And I've been with that troll for twenty years.

How does anyone talk about themselves for two hours, all the celebrities they've met, all the places they've visited and all the things they've accomplished without being boring and pompous? That's a rare gift.

There's a lot about the Black Flag frontman that astonishes me. How does he travel the entire world and keep up with a regular column? I can't figure out what to blog about. Where did he find the time to write books while touring? I can barely pump out a book a year. How does he keep up with and answer all his emails? Sometimes I can barely look at mine, never mind respond timely. How does he keep up with world politics? How does he know about which country voted for who? I've been getting my news from social media. (I know. I'm sorry.) and can barely stand to look at what Canada and the US are doing. And HOW does this guy make time for friends and fans who ask advice and opinions from him on a weekly basis? How does he seem to have the right answers? How does he tell the sad stories of the broken people he meets and turn those tales into pure inspiration? How does he make us laugh? How does he sound geeky and humble while talking about meeting Iggy Pop, David Bowie and Lemmy Kilmister? Must be a muse thing. Do you understand why he is MY muse?

Henry Rollins, if you ever see this blog, I want you to know I am grateful for you. I'm grateful for your books and your lyrics. I'm grateful for your sense of humor (Thanks for making my husband laugh so hard. That's a rarity in itself.) I'm grateful for your sweet neurosis and that you choose to share it for the sake of entertainment and inspiration. YOU are truly MUSEWORTHY and you bring me happiness and ideas. You also gave me a much needed kick in the pants. If you can do all these things and still write, I can hold down a job and write novels.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to begin the edits I'm afraid of. I also need to research Eastern mythology for my next novella.

Merry Christmas and All That!

Spartacus Jones "Helping" me wrap gifts

Or Happy Holidays, whatever your preference. Yes, I'm still here. Yes, Chasing Monsters is still going to be published. We are still shooting for February.

Where are we at? Edits and formatting are done. ISBN is entered. We just need to finish the cover, And deal with whatever glitches show up. Because you KNOW there will be glitches. I wish I could show you what Terra has done for the cover so far. It's wicked.

I just finished this blog with a long explanation of what I'm doing next year. Then I published it, and realized I just wrote the same blog as last time. So how about a Resolution instead?

Next year, I want to take charge of my own marketing. I hate marketing. I've read countless blogs offering advice, and have asked other bloggers and writers about their strategies, but I can't seem to find anything that works well. What I AM realizing is that social media alone isn't going to do it. (Yeah, I know. DUH.) That was wishful, broke-ass thinking. Anyway, I'm open to suggestions....As long as it isn't blog tours or newsletters. I have zero faith in those, and I could list reasons why, but they would bore you.

If I'm going to make any New Year's resolutions, it's to get my ass in gear and SELL books. I've been complacent too long. People can't buy my books if they don't know they're out there.

Oh Hell...This is going to be fun...Wish me luck!!

And have a great Christmas and may your New Year be everything you hope it will be.

The Dreaded Post

FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Yes, the Dreaded Post. Because the publication of Chasing Monsters is YET AGAIN postponed.
I wanted to have it out before Christmas, and not just because I wanted the sales.  I wanted to have a contest with swag and everything. I have waited long enough to bring this novel to light, to fulfill a promise I made. Sigh...

As usual, life has happened. Heather Savage has been hard at work on edits, and Createspace has accepted our weirdness and italics. Now we just need to add acknowledgments and the all important, ESSENTIAL dedication....which is actually only a few sentences long.

I haven't seen my cover yet, because my artist is EXTREMELY busy, and not feeling so great. I'm lucky she agreed to do a cover at all.

I'm shooting for February. Sorry.

In the meantime, here's what's new. I've finished the rough draft for 'Elaina's Fate', and I'm closing in on the end of 'Her True Name:Volume Two' which takes place in the Funnel Beaker period of Scandinavia. Lots of edits in my new year.

In the meantime, I wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, however you celebrate <3.

Friends with the Editor

The charm I bought when I finished Chasing Monsters

As of this writing, my fourth novel 'Chasing Monsters' is in the last stages of edits. I'm feeling excited and confident, and it has a lot to do with Heather Savage of Staccato Publishing.

I met Heather through Vamptasy Publishing, the original publishers of 'Thoeba'. When Vamptasy couldn't keep me, they recommended Heather. Heather was, at the time, another Independant Publisher. She read 'Thoeba', liked it, and signed me up.

We've been friends since. I rarely speak to Heather--most of our exchanges take place over Facebook Private Messages. But she's become a valuable friend and business partner.

I can't tell you what it means to me to have an editor I can trust. When you spend several months, a year, sometimes longer working on a book, it's hard to hand it over to someone else to fix all the flaws. My novels are my babies. Trust me, it's like mentally giving birth. You know--the long, painful process that makes you want to collapse with relief when it's over. How you love what you've done, even after all the agony. (At least that's what I assume childbirth is like. No disrespect intended.)

But when Heather is finished with my work, I can breathe a sigh of relief. She's a benevolent spirit who glides through the pages, making them clear and shiny. So polished...It makes me happy and I can barely see where she's been. It's still mine, only better. She makes me look like I actually know what I'm doing.

She understands my vision, my BRAND, and knows what needs to be done. She gets my tetchiness and I can hear the smile in her text when she calls me a perfectionist, even when MY text sounds impatient and itchy. She gets it. After all, she's a damned good writer too. Books by Heather Savage

She recently used the word 'genius' to describe this book. She thinks it's my best one yet, she likes it more than 'Aphrodite's War'. On one hand, I'm exploding with pleasure. On the other hand, I want to run screaming from my keyboard. The pressure! But it's so important to me that she likes my work. And I suppose if it sucked, she would tell me, just when she tells me when phrases and words don't work.

She believes in me. I can't stress how valuable that is. She believes that someday soon all our hard work will manifest into success. I really hope so. For both of us.

Dedicated

Photo by Julia Hollman

If you read my last blog, you'll know that 'Chasing Monsters' will be coming out soon. Hopefully before the year is out. You'll also notice I dedicated it to the memory of a man named Gary Larsen. I've lost track of how many times I've written and re-written that dedication. There actually is something harder to write than a synopsis.

When Gary asked to be in the novel, no one could have guessed he'd be gone two months later. It was a horrible shock. I remember Ehren calling me out of the blue, and I was a little surprised to hear from him. He didn't usually call that early in the day. I asked how it was going, and he said, "Been better."

When he told me, I couldn't believe it. I remember screaming "Oh my God!" several times before I gave in to the tears. I was writing at the time, and tried to continue after the phone call, but I couldn't concentrate. I dropped everything and drove to Ehren and Julia's house, where a bunch of us sat around hugging, shaking our heads in disbelief, crying and trading stories about Gary.

I'm not just frustrated because of the dedication I'm writing.

I'm upset with myself, because I know that 'Joey Bekker', Gary's character, evolved beyond his personality, and any of his friends who reads it will recognize him, but will notice...it's not really Gary. I wonder what he would think of the transformation I gave him.

The Gary we knew was a sweet, soft spoken man Danish man who emigrated to Canada with his parents when he was a boy. He had a parakeet he adored, and all animals loved him. He was rarely seen without an energy drink, and he liked to hang outside with the smokers, even though he didn't smoke. He just liked to listen and be part of the conversation. His favorite band was Deep Purple. He had a fart app on his phone. He was a devoted paranormal investigator and enthusiast.

I met him in Meatcutting class at NAIT, January 2000, where we teased him about how such a small guy could eat so much. He was maybe 5'2, but wolfed food like starved quarterback. The day before our class toured the Lilydale chicken plant I dreamed that I entrusted my lunch to Gary, and he ate it. Tried to tell me around a mouthful of Subway sandwich that he didn't know what happened to my Turkey Bacon Sub. When I shared that dream, everyone around us nodded and said, "Yep. That's Gary. Why would anyone trust Gary to guard food?'

And after the tour was over, Lilydale gave us a variety of chicken wings to sample. Apparently Gary was the first NAIT Meatcutter student, in the history of the trade school, to ask if he could bring the leftovers home. He was probably still hungry.

I wanted Gary's character to be special. I wanted Joey Bekker to live longer and louder than Gary could. I wanted Gary's character to be BIG-- Fearless. I wanted Joey Bekker to live where Gary had not.  I guess that's why 'Joey Bekker' doesn't seem much like Gary anymore, but I'm still glad I did it.

We gave Gary a memorial. It was all he got. Gary's parents predeceased him, and he had no siblings, so he was cremated with permission from relatives from Denmark. We'd offered to pay for a real funeral, but God only knows what that funeral home did with his ashes. I'm still really pissed over that.

That's why this dedication and this novel are so important. Gary led a subdued life, and got the bum's rush into the afterlife. He was a good man who deserved more. Now I can finally give him something for the world to remember he was here.

People come into your life for a reason. Sometimes I wonder if Gary came into my life specifically because I needed to understand the full impact of losing a friend to death. Maybe he was here to make sure Chasing Monsters got written and published. Because I promised him.

I'm sorry if I rambled. I'm sorry if I bored you, but I understand now why I needed to write this blog. I needed to write it because no matter what those little sentences say in the beginning of 'Chasing Monsters', they'll never tell you enough about how I feel right now--How the tears still burn behind my eyes years later.

Still Chasing

Chasing Monsters will be dedicated to the memory of this man.

I should tell you now. CHASING MONSTERS is going to happen. I am currently going through it for maybe the...fifth time (?) before I hand it over to Heather Savage of Staccato Publishing for editing and formatting. I still need to get an ISBN code and a cover artist, so I can't be sure WHEN it's coming out.

Sorry it's taking so long...When you're self-published you have to think about COST$. It's your problem when you're self-published, and if you follow this blog at all, you'll know I've had a trying year or two.

But there is a strange advantage to the wait. I haven't actually looked at CHASING MONSTERS in over a year. Which means I can be objective. And I can see aaaaaaaallll the flaws. Thank GOD I didn't put it out as soon as the beta readers were finished with it!

Shout out and apologies to my fellow Staccato family member David Fingerman, the horror writer. (By the way, if you love unpredictable horror? Try "Two Degrees Closer to Hell. Brilliant and fresh. David Fingerman-Closer to Hell) I'm actually embarrassed that I gave him that last version. It must have been a tremendous CHORE for him to slog through, but he gave me the honesty I craved.

I remember taking a lot of his advice to heart, as it was great, but I felt he just didn't like so much of it. Well, NO WONDER!!

The original CHASING MONSTERS reads like a 'Young Adult', which is a genre for teens. NOT my intention. Apparently, I wrote like a goof for a year. I'm not saying YA is goofy, I'm saying I made my characters sound too light hearted and casual for a novel with so much sex and violence in it. Oh, and Noelle sounded a lot like some eighties valley girl. "Omicrap".  (Groan)

I'd like to put CHASING MONSTERS out by the end of the year, but I hate making promises. I can promise I'll try hard to get it done by Christmas. I'll let you know <3

Oh shit...There are dedications, acknowledgments and a back cover to write. Wish me luck!

Slave to the Furballs

It's NOT  a shrine. It's a recently started collection.

A good friend once told me that when he dies, he wants to be reincarnated as one of my cats. Of course I laughed. He's just as obsessed with his cats as I am. And every bit as much of a mush as me.

But Spartacus Jones has got me thinking...Am I a Cat-Mom? Or a Cat-Slave?

When we got Freya, we knew we were being manipulated. She made it very clear to us that she didn't want to be in that alcove with the other cats, and that she wanted to come with us. She purred, she nuzzled and gave us sad eyes when we almost left. She was a determined kitty, and she's had us both under her paw ever since.

She has her own favorite spots, her favorite foods, foods she WON'T eat--which must be replaced with something different, specific places to eat and specific cuddling preferences. She's like Hitgirl. She never plays.

I thought she was just a particularly smart and strange cat, and we were gullible because she was our first kitty.

Freya is also perfect. And this is her favoritespot.

Spartacus Jones isn't as smart as Freya, but I think I've underestimated him.  He was SUPPOSED to go to the Humane Society when we found him. Then he made a sneaky, adorable bid to stay that completely suckered us (Mostly me) into keeping him.

Now I wake up between 4:30 to 5:30 a.m. every morning. That's when Spartacus Jones swats lovingly at my nose until I get up and feed him the wet stuff. (Oh--and I alternate the flavors of the wet food--so their palates don't get bored.)  If I don't? He pokes at  Freya. Who, as I mentioned, never plays. Swats to the nose? Or constant hissing and growling from Hitcat? If I shut him outside the room? He cries like he's starving to death. There's dry food, Sweetie. Can't you just eat the fucking kibble?

He's decided he likes brushing. A lot. Every time I walk past the table, he jumps on it, and lounges suggestively. Brush me. Brush me! BRUSH ME MEOW!

Hi Babieeee!

I've decided all his demands on my time are for meditation purposes. When he demands that I brush him, I do it, and he rewards me with purrs and cute faces, and gives me  direction on where to brush him next. When he tries to lure me downstairs for his own prefered cuddle time, (That's his territory) I tell myself it's not so cold, and there's not that many spiders and capitulate. I mean, he's just so sweet. Plus I can get some laundry done, right?

When did this happen? How did I come to this? A weird woman (Okay, I was always weird--BUT) who baby-talks and caters to the whims of CATS? Sigh...I am a cat slave after all.

Here's a photo of our late boy, Sully. This is the face that destroyed the rule of 'no cats on the table'.I couldn't resist him. Sigh...