Moon & Stars (not Danaerys)

Earlier in the month, I was driving home and noticed the star on the mountainside was all aglow as it had been every night since Independence Day. Normally, they turn it on the evening of the 4th after the fireworks, the lightbulbs are red, white, and blue, and we all celebrate. Then it’s off again until the end of the year. This year, the lights were white and they shone each night for 20 not-actually-consecutive nights in honor of the firefighters who lost their lives in Arizona in June (as Gabe found out when he asked at the library)

I thought I’d stop to take a picture. I used the camera on my tablet because it does better in the dark than my Adventure Olympus. Of course, it was important to post the pic to Facebook because, you know, proof and all. I walked from where I was parked over to the town library and sat by the door, sucking out wifi, uploading my starry-night goodness. Once I had finished the task, I stood, walked down the ramp, looked up and saw the star on the mountainside to my right and a crescent moon rising next to the mountain in front of me. It was an amazing sight.

The thing is, it was one of those moments, the kind I wish I could capture forever to replay in my future olden days. I regretted not having a better camera, one that does night pictures with grace and ease. It’s a regret I often have, actually, but it’s not something I want to use money to rectify because there are other things that need purchasing over a camera. You know, like my vast and crippling student loans.

Anyway, if I owned a good camera complete with filters and all that jazz, I would have been able to run home, grab it and the tripod, then run back down the street to an even better vantage point and get some seriously amazing shots. You have no idea what a phenomenal photographer I would be if only…
As it is, I have to make due with this and the memory of what I saw. And if you’re all, “Uh, no, that would be a stupid picture,” here it is without the graffiti, completely untouched. Can you not see the potential?

Denied.

Evie the Editor rejects today’s post. She says come back next week and there may be something not made of crap she wouldn’t even allow in her litter box.

Writers, come to me

I have this great plan that will involve lots of help from friends as well as copious amounts of moolah. See, there’s a mansion in my town that’s up for sale, complete with acreage, about a town-block’s worth, and views. It’s lovely, all nestled up against the mountains and it’s only like a million and a half dollars! I am going to win the lottery/get a giant inheritance from an unknown benefactor/go gangbusters on Kickstarter or something equally unlikely that will provide me with piles of cash, then I’m going to buy this mansion and turn it into a writer’s retreat! As in a place for writers to retreat, not a place that teaches writing classes, though, come to think of it, that could be an option as well.

Here’s the mansion that will become my writer’s retreat. It’s so popular that even those evil deer who mug poor townsfolk for their birdseed hang out here.

This is a great idea for several reasons.

Reason 1: I know a lot of authors. They often need help finishing their stories and help could easily come in the form of a quiet room with no distractions and I would totally be able to provide that with my writers retreat.

Reason 2: I stalk many other authors and once the authors I know started telling their author friends about the fabulous place they stayed and all the inspiration they received and the wonderfulness of the quiet mansion in the mountains, said stalked authors would be intrigued enough to want to try it out themselves. In essence, they would PAY me to stalk them! How perfect is that?

Reason 3: Something useful needs to be done with that mansion and making it available to artists would not only bolster my town’s economy somehow but it would also make people care about the mansion and they’d want to help with its upkeep. I don’t really know how that one works but in my mind it does so we’ll go with it.

The mansion would not be open all year, though. Oh no no. It would close to the public from October 1st through January 1st. In October, I’d hire (because I’m rich, remember) costumey and theatery people from the local colleges to decorate the house and grounds for Halloween and then we’d have a ginormous party the night thereof. The whole town would be invited. It probably wouldn’t be very safe because that is not my first priority, but it would be extremely fun.

In November, I’d invite all my friends and family over for Thanksgiving and the cool thing is that I’d have plenty of room for everyone to stay a few days.

In December, we’d have wintertime parties GALORE! I’m pretty sure there’s a festivity for almost every day of that month. We would  celebrate them all, every one. Again, the entire town would be invited. There would be lights and fireplaces and hot spiced cider and a constant supply of freshly-baked cookies. It would be the highlight of everyone’s end-of-year.

See? This is what wintery festiveness will look like.

Seriously. EVERYONE in town will be invited.

I’ve got some of the staff hired already, too. Pam, one of the instigators of this blog, is going to be the overall manager and her son can be the chef. She doesn’t know that yet…well, actually, she does if she just read this. Noelle is going to be the entertainment director and will be in charge of arranging pick-ups and drop-offs of authors at the airport in addition to any fun things they want to do while they’re in town. Gabe can be one of the drivers because it means he can have a nice, new car. Bedot is going to be the hiking tour guide. My favorite nursery will be in charge of the grounds and my mom will be in charge of the indoor plants. I’ve got a lawyer, I’ve got a CPA…I think I’m set. If you want in on this, now is totally the time to sign up either as a guest or as an employee. Let me know your preferences below.

WoW – what a love story

Gabe and I started dating in the Undercity.
That is 100% true, though our dating wasn’t intentional. We were pretending to just be friends and told everyone who would listen (as well as those who wouldn’t) that we were only pals. He was spoken for and I was still recovering from a previous relationship so, obviously, nothing could possibly be going on.
Even so, we’d get on our computers every day after work, load up our little undead people, and play World of Warcraft together for hours on end. Then we added weekends, too. And since it was winter, snow days. We were spending pretty much every free moment together in a world that doesn’t really exist.
I’m pretty self-aware most of the time (well, sometimes, at least); you’d think I’d have figured out what was going on but denial can be such a good ally. It convinced me that I was just pal-ing around with my buddy all the freakin’ time and there was no reason for concern.
Gabe got me into his guild so our dates were usually chaperoned; we’d go on raids or they’d all take me down to an area that had monsters that were ten jillion times bigger than I and they’d see how long they could keep me alive. It was a fun game, but everything there was fun because I was with Gabe. Then Valentine’s Day showed up and we could get moonlight and rose petals and one night in late February, Gabe and I sat talking in petals and moonlight for hours. It was just the two of us. Near a mausoleum. Romantic.

This is what our dates looked like. Romantic, right?

Then Gabe’s relationship really did come to an end and I’m sure I was the straw that wrecked that camel’s home – well, me and World of Warcraft, at least.  I started avoiding Gabe when I played WoW, either playing on a different server or rolling up characters he didn’t know or playing when I knew he wasn’t there.  Then I just stopped talking to him altogether because I engage in very healthy behaviors.
About 3 weeks later, I got an e-mail from Gabe. He said his relationship was over and he had found a place to live which was, coincidentally, right down the road from where I lived. I told him that it was nice to hear he was taking an interest in his life and when things settled down, he should give me a call.
He called me on March 31st, having just spent the day moving into his rented room. He said he’d like to meet me for dinner and catch up. We met at a Chinese restaurant in the area that we called the House of Food because it had no apparent name. We talked. We talked until the House of Food closed. We went to my place and we talked some more and it got late and we went to bed (that is not a euphemism) because we weren’t done talking. We laid in bed, and chatted some more (also not a euphemism) and around 3:00 am on April 1st, Gabe gave me the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life and we decided we should start dating in the real world.
Two and a half years later, we were married and some of the people from our guild were at the wedding, which was important because they had been so supportive of my home-wrecking ways and our scandalous meetings in the Undercity. I guess they saw what had been there the entire time and were probably pretty frustrated that it took us so long to see it, too.

I think we were sitting in the coffin shop area of the Undercity because we like to do things right.

We totally owed them free food and drink and wedding cake, at the very least.
Not too long ago, Gabe found some of the screenshots he took of our interactions from back when we were playing as friends. All I have to say is that I am apparently very powerful when it comes to denial because looking at those now? Holy hell, I am surprised I wasn’t given a red “A” to stick on my chest. The flirting and ridiculousness is so blatant! My poor guildmates.

Today is the first day of April. This post is not an April Fool’s Day joke (well, other than the trickery of putting up a post on an unscheduled day AND not being mean to Gabe)
Also, it is probably the only time I will ever say anything nice to Gabe here, but: I’m really glad you invited me to play with you in Azeroth, Gabe, and that I got to know you as someone more than just a guy I’d hung out with two Sundays a month for eight years. Happy It-All-Started-Today Anniversary.
Now if I could only find a way to really make you into a rotty little corpse…

On dedication and writing

I read books from time to time and have always been fascinated by the acknowledgements and the dedications. The acknowledgements I get but I often read dedications and wonder if they are sincere. The ones to moms and dads probably are. The sappy ones to kids and spouses probably kind-of are. But some of those others? I’ve wondered. Mine, when I have published books, are going to be VERY SINCERE, more sincere than a pumpkin patch on Halloween. I’ve got a snarky one for an ex-boyfriend. I have a loving one for my deceased grandmother. I have a good one for two of the women who all but strung me up over a printing press and forced me to get something out there. No, I don’t actually have any finished books to put these dedications in; heck, some of my stories aren’t even started and they already have dedications. I just strongly feel it’s never too early to start dedicating.

Do the people who have things dedicated to them know about the dedications? I am sure many of them do. However, I always wonder when I read new authors and I see my name in the dedication, “Do I know this person? Is s/he writing under a pen name? Is that dedication to me?” It would seem I am pretty full of myself. This probably comes as no surprise. To anyone. But do other people do this, too? Is it common to see your name in a dedication and wonder if it’s you?

Something that frustrates me is that so many dedications are vague, the whole “To my Dibbly Wizzles. You know who you are.” Do they? Does each Dibbly Wizzle know s/ he is a Dibbly Wizzle? Are there Dibbly Wizzles who are excluded from this group? Do they know they’re excluded? My dedications won’t be like that. I am going to be as upfront and obvious as possible. Like the one to the ex-boyfriend. I won’t use his full name, but I can use his first and middle name. Or his initials and last name. Or his Social Security number. However I do it, I plan to end his dedication with: Because I KEEP MY PROMISES, Jackass. Pretty good, right? I’ve given this some thought.

That brings me to a totally different rail for my train of thought. How many people find out their exes have become writers and they read the exes’ work looking for themselves, for something familiar, or for a reason to hate their exes even more? Wouldn’t that be weird? And you know this happens, you know that some poor guy is walking down the street and he sees his horrible ex’s picture on the back of a best selling book so he has to go to the library or bookstore or Google to make sure it’s the same person and finds out this hated (or maybe still-pined-for) person has rocketed into stardom overnight. What does he do? Get a copy of the book and read it? Or burn it? Or leave malicious, one-star reviews for the book online?

I don’t keep up with my exes. Once they’re out of my life, they’re gone so I don’t know if any of them have become famous or anything. I don’t think I’d knowingly follow their stuff even if I did know. Maybe I would. I don’t know. The situation has never come up. But if my exes keep track of me, one of them will totally see the dedication to him in my really great book and will be all, “Damn. That girl DOES keep her promises. I shouldn’t have been such a jackass.”

**This post is dedicated to Gabe and Pam who pretty much made me start this blog in the first place. Also, it’s brought to you by the number 9 and the letters EKGO**

Post Script: This is an accidental post brought on by lack of sleep and the inability to find the Save Draft button. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused…me. Because it really did confuse me that this showed up when I thought I’d just put it back in the hopper. We will now return to our regularly scheduled program.