West of Mars

Dreams generally weren’t welcome in Trevor Wolff’s world. Why bother, when they so rarely came true?

Okay, the dream about the band had, but that was mostly due to Mitchell’s refusal to give up. It had nothing to do with the magic of dreams, how you wake up and suddenly, one day, there it is. Whatever you’d wanted, waiting for you like on a silver platter. Nope, Mitchell had refused to rely on luck and dreams and all that other fairy shit. He’d buckled down and spent hours on the band’s logo, the band’s music, his own guitar, and even bass lessons for Trevor.

Not that Trevor was any closer to being good than he’d been on that first day when Mitchell had first put a bass in his hands. But whatever. He was in a band and who cared if he sucked? He looked good up there.

That was how dreams come true — when you let yourself dream them.

The dream about the Vincent wasn’t likely to come true through hard work. Vincents were rare. They cost a lot of money if they were in great shape. Sometimes, the falling apart ones cost a lot of money, too. ShapeShifter might have started to bring in the bucks, but Trevor still wasn’t flush enough to pay those prices. Getting his hands on a Vincent wasn’t a dream worth letting himself dream about.

Until the phone rang. “Hey, uhh, yeah. This is Ray, over at Hammer, Wrench, and Torque. This Trevor?”

He almost didn’t answer; he was too busy grabbing at the cigarette that had fallen off his lip when he’d heard Wrench’s voice. “Yeah,” he finally said, trying to sound cool while he brushed ashes off his jeans and immediately began playing with the newly burned fibers.

“We wanted to let you know that someone dropped off the frame of a Vincent today. Looks like a D-series Shadow. You interested?”

Trevor’s heart leaped out of his chest. He knew that feeling, all right — but he’d never known it to feel so good.

“You might want to take a look before you say yes or no,” Hammer said.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can be,” Trevor said. He’d have to call Mitchell and convince him to put down the guitar long enough to play chauffeur. It shouldn’t be hard; Amy was home for a visit and that probably meant she was torturing the big idiot to no end. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but Trevor needed a ride more than Mitchell needed what he deserved.

“Think hard, man,” Hammer warned. “It may not be what you want, but if you’ve got the patience, it can be.”

That alone was enough for Trevor. Even if it was a piece of steel that had been hammered flat, he wanted the bike.

No one knew better than Trevor Wolff what it was like to need some work. Or what the payoff was once someone who cared showed some patience.

Ahh. Trevor’s back; I know you guys have missed him. I have, too.

Not sure what the fuss is about? Click on Trevor’s name and it’ll take you to his bio page. At the bottom are all sorts of links that will take you back to other posts here at the Meet and Greet that Trevor’s starred in. There are a lot, so get a fresh cup of coffee and have fun!

Sixteen flagpoles stand outside the dining hall in two rows: three and thirteen. Five hundred campers gather by the thirteen, hustling to get there first and earn the honors. The other three, they’re for the staff. Full uniform. Attention, marching, parade rest. Ceremony. You know the drill.

Those flagpoles aren’t merely for flags. They’re the first ceremony for many of the Scouts, and the gathering spot used by all. While not in the center of camp, they are its centerpiece, the pillar from which all else spins out. Find those flagpoles, and you have found your way back to camp.

Funny how the Velvet Verbosity prompt this week is pillars, which works really well with my latest experience at Cub Scout Camp.

Yep, I’m back. Got some sleep after being awakened yesterday morning by a raccoon in my tent and nope, I didn’t get a look at him. I just think it was kinda cool that he was there. #1 comes home with the Tour Manager tomorrow; I can’t wait to hear what happened after I left.

Oh, and I am a left-handed archer. In case you care.

No Thirteen this week, as I’m off to Cub Scout Camp again this summer. As a treat, I thought I’d show you what you guys inspired, based on your responses to this Thirteen I wrote back in May. Hope you like it; there may be more to follow if you do.

Eric didn’t notice it until he was on his way back to sound check. He’d just taken a bathroom break that had been long enough to make his tech feel like part of the band instead of the stand-in for the real guitarist. Stupid touring; it got to him like this every few weeks, it seemed. It got to all of them, but he swore, he got it the worst.

He stopped by the deli tray to grab a slice of turkey. That’s when he noticed it, sitting on the end of the table like it didn’t need to be kept cold or anything.

Mitchell was not going to be happy about it.

Eric wasn’t quite out of the dressing room when the rest of the guys pushed through the door.

“Nice of you to come back,” Trevor told him with one of his usual sneers. “I thought you were a member of ShapeShifter.”

“I didn’t really want the guy puking on stage,” Mitchell told the bass player. Eric tried to get a feel for the guy’s mood. Sometimes, sound check went well and mellowed Mitchell out. Sometimes, it totally sucked and the guy was a dragon. Right now, he was talkative.

“Remember what happened when that one roadie puked?” Mitchell asked. “How fucking bad it smelled? And it lasted until the end of the tour, too. No, Eric, you did the right thing, ducking out on us. We wrote a new song,” the band leader said.

Eric smiled wanly and flopped down on the couch. Mitchell was in a good enough mood. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt someone when he noticed it.

… or then again, maybe he would, Eric thought when Mitchell growled, “What the fuck is that?”

Eric sat up to look.

Mitchell stood in front of it, breathing so hard, his nostrils flared. “Get someone in here who can explain this,” he said.

Since the four of them were alone at the moment, Daniel jumped to do it.

“Just use it for an ashtray,” Trevor said, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and reaching to lead by example.

Mitchell strong-armed him out of the way.

“Well, fuck you, too,” Trevor said.

“Not until we get some fucking answers,” Mitchell growled. He hadn’t taken his eyes off it. Eric wasn’t sure he would, even though it was pretty obvious the thing wasn’t going to move by itself.

Daniel came back. “They’re going to find someone,” he said and stood on his toes to peek over Mitchell’s shoulder, as if he needed to be shielded from it. “At least this one’s not green.”

Mitchell growled more loudly. Daniel backed off. Even Trevor took a step back.

A few minutes passed with no one really knowing what to do. All four of them kept throwing glances at it, like they expected it to get up and come after them or something. Maybe melt, Eric decided, picking up a can of Coke from a bus tray full of melting ice. If that ice was melting, there was no way the non-green thing was in good shape.

Not like any of them would be dumb enough to eat it.

“There’s a problem?” The mousy man who led Charlie, the band’s tour manager, into the dressing room had seven strands of hair left at the front of his head. They’d been pulled back into a ponytail and they made the guy instantly memorable.

Charlie peeked over Mitchell’s shoulder. “Whoa. That’s some bad vibes.” He turned to the mousy guy. “That a key lime pie?”

Mousy guy nodded. “My wife made it. She said she read in a magazine that you guys like key lime pies.”

From across the room, Eric could hear Mitchell breathing. Hard. He closed his eyes and hoped the guy wasn’t about to explode.

“Take it out of here,” Mitchell said. It wasn’t a request.

“But my wife…”

“Take it!”

“What’ll I tell her?” The guy’s eyes were darting everywhere, like he was about to panic.

Mitchell picked up the pie and pressed it firmly into the guy’s chest. “Tell her you hope it doesn’t stain. And tell her she needs to be more careful about what she reads because we fucking hate key lime pie.”

He let go. Half the pie fell to the floor. The other half stuck to the guy’s shirt.

“Oh,” the guy said in such a small voice, it was almost a squeak.

Eric stood up. “Look,” he said, “thank your wife for the pie, but explain to her that she read an article written by a reporter who has a problem with us ever since Trevor puked on him after eating a key lime pie that some fan had made.”

“But my wife…”

Daniel put a hand on the guy’s shoulder, looking with distaste at the custard smeared on his shirt, “Was wrong, and you got off light. We’re the band. This pie was a violation of our concert rider and we could pull even more of a prima donna routine and make you very unhappy. You got off light. Hell, Charlie, give the guy a free t-shirt to wear and then call JR. We don’t do shows with this joker anymore.”

The mousy guy paled. “But…”

Mitchell started to laugh. “You’re the promoter and you fucked up this royally? Dude, you’re done. Go fucking sell real estate or something.” He jerked his head toward the door and Charlie sprang into action, escorting the mousy promoter dude out of the dressing room.

Trevor and Daniel laughed. Even Mitchell relaxed enough to smile.

“The best laid plans…” Eric said and decided that pie or no, he needed to return to the bathroom.

Ahh, yes. Sometimes, it sucks to be in a band. If you’re new to ShapeShifter, or if you want to read more, click on the cast of characters tab at the top of the page. You’ll find links with each character sketch. I know. There are a lot of them.

If you need me for anything, I’ll be back in a few days. The Tour Manager will hold the fort down while I’m gone.

Every time I try to write something for this week’s prompt, what I wind up with is too long. This is leading to the pleasant swelling of scenes I intend to post on this blog, treasures saved up for a day when inspiration runs low. But it’s also leading to the unpleasant problem of not having anything worthwhile this week. Since I took last week off, I really want to be able to play along this week, especially since I’ll be out of town for the next two weeks, which will make playing hard, as I’ll have no Net access…

Really. Once you get on my bad side, there’s not a lot of hope for you.

Which is why I had to point out that the Pittsburgh Hilton is having a bit of trouble paying their workers.

This Hilton, I’ve learned, is actually a franchise hotel. Its owners claim to be digging themselves out of the financial hole they got themselves into. But the hotel still bears the Hilton name and a franchise or not, it’s still the Hilton company who looks bad. ‘Cause you can’t tell me that the other three Hilton-named hotels I’ve had crappy experiences in were franchises, too. If so, then the Hiltons really ought to consider who they’re letting buy in. I meant it when I said I was done staying at anything bearing the Hilton name.

I know that every single person at the Romantic Times Convention here in Pittsburgh with me are joining me in an impassioned eye roll, snicker, and even, perhaps, a shudder of horror at the memories of that place.

A story in Thirteen parts 1. A few weeks ago, I posted about this website I’d found that listed fake bands. Seemed to me that ShapeShifter should be on there, but the site hadn’t been updated in almost a year. That goddess Winter went and contacted the dude, who said he’s still collecting band names (but it helps if he’s heard of them) but isn’t planning an update anytime soon. Well. 2. Many of you suggested that I make my own list of fake bands. Trevor won’t let me do that, though. Most of you guys know him. He may be fictional, but he’s an original, and he demands that the people around him be brave enough to be original, too. 3. I’d already been playing with this idea beforehand, so I went and made the time and … check it out. A list of Rock and Roll fiction. Yeah, you know. Not just bands, but books about bands. 4. I began by making a list of what’s on my shelves. Then I added in titles I’d run into in other places online. That added up to a long list. 5. As I kept looking around, I found more. You know how it is when you’re looking for a purple car. Suddenly, most of the cars on the road are purple. 6. You may have heard of some of these books, like Reservation Blues, by Sherman Alexie. Or Roddy Doyle’s The Commitments. 7. Maybe you’ve only heard of some of the authors, like Jay McInerney, who wrote Bright Lights, Big City. 8. The best-known might be Nick Hornby’s High Fidelity. 9. Lots of these books were written by people with music industry experience (like me). Check out my favorites, Don Bruns and David Hiltbrand. 10. Nope, I haven’t read all of them yet. Yes, I intend to! And no, I won’t tell which I’ve read and which I haven’t. (Well, okay, except for the above two. Sort of.) Some have been talked about on this blog, but you’ll have to go find them… 11. That means you should read them, too, and form your OWN opinion. I hear lots of complaints about cliches — do you see any? If so, where? (seriously. I want to know.) 12. If you know of any titles I’m missing, you know how to contact me. I’d like this list to be as complete as humanly possible. 13. All the buy links on my blog and website go to Powells. There are lots of reasons for this, but the least is that I get a cut if you buy anything. My plan with that piece of the action is to return it to you via giveaways. I’d love to start doing that, you know… See the list!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

As Lisa noticed, no Poetry Train from me. I was sort of hoping I wouldn’t get to this point until next week, but here I am.

Here’s the deal. Like most writers at certain points, it’s time to step aside and deal with…

1. a short story I’m working on for submission. Yes, me, who was begged in graduate school to stop writing short stories because I’m so bad at them. It’s time to see if I’ve learned a thing or two, writing outtakes.

2. A project I’ve had in the wings for a long time now. After talking to some really cool people about it, I think I’m going to go ahead.

3. Straightening out the agent thing. This is one of those things that’s surprised me with how it’s played out. In April, I approached an agent with a proposal for Trevor’s Song. She was enthusiastic but wanted to discuss it further. She said the next day. I figured the next week, and I cleared my calendar.

Needless to say, I’m still waiting, and it’s been three and a half months. Phone calls aren’t being returned. Nor is e-mail. I’m thinking so much for that proposal and it’s time to do what Trevor would.

4. Some other projects I’ve been wanting to get to.

5. Finishing up the novel-in-progress. Man, I’ve been drafting it forever. It’s taken WAY too long, but not because of the blog.

and then there’s the personal stuff.

1. I am absolutely ADDICTED to the Tour de France. Addicted, I tell you.

2. I knew it was only a matter of time before this happened, but the conditions in my gym have deteriorated to the point where I had a full-blown asthma attack while doing a program that shouldn’t have had me breathing hard. It’s my first attack in five years. I’ve been making noises for two months now to the Tour Manager that this was inevitable. I’ve skipped working out some days to avoid reaching this point. It can’t be avoided any longer. Time to switch, most likely to the mondo snooty, cliquish, expensive place that’s sadly the only option.

3. It’s that time of year again! I am taking #1 to Cub Scout Camp again this year! If the idea of me in a snooty, cliquish, expensive health club isn’t enough to make you snort your Frosted Flakes out your nose, this ought to be. Me in a metal-frame tent with an oil cloth over it, a platform supporting it, and two cots (with mattresses) inside. Not to mention the latrine at campsite.

Now, stop laughing. I absolutely adore it.

4. After camp comes vacation. We’ll be staying in a very lovely looking B&B, and then moving to a cabin in a National Park. Yep, a return to the idea of going from the snooty to the rustic. I’m still loving it.

I’ll be here, off and on. Make sure you’ve got me in your reader, but stop back anyway ’cause my blog stats could use the love. The better my blog stats, the better my bragging rights about you guys to people who’ll come through in their ambition to get Trevor into print. Think of it that way.

See ya at some point I have yet to figure out…

The prompt this week at Sunday Scribblings is My Oldest Friend.

I’ve never been one to hold on to friends forever. The fact that the Tour Manager has been in my life as much as he has is, in and of itself, amazing. Yet we weren’t friends until about thirteen years ago. Or maybe we were; who can really tell among all that teenage angst and jockeying for popularity and the right crowd?

I suppose it makes sense, then, that this is an issue that I see within my fictional band, ShapeShifter. The four men who make up the band are friends onstage and off. It all began when a shy kid named Mitchell Voss met the outlandish abused outcast, Trevor Wolff. (You can read this episode here on the blog or here as a cleaned-up, downloadable .pdf file. Your pick.)

Trevor had a vision. Mitchell had a guitar. ShapeShifter was born.

(This is one of my favorite posts about the two of them.)

In due time, Eric and Daniel were brought into the fold. Yes, this was the band’s original lineup and yes, it’s the lineup in the band’s adventures here on the blog. It’s also part of the crux of Trevor’s Song, my on-the-market novel that this blog was originally designed to support.

There are other relationships lurking in my fiction. Daniel has had the same girlfriend since he was sixteen. Her name is Val and you can meet her here and here, among other places (click on her name to find them). I love playing with Val because she’s so different from our other long-term woman in the place, Mitchell’s love, Kerri. One of these days, I’ll do even more with the Daniel-Val relationship. Daniel and Val have grown up together; their relationship is complex, a little bit twisted and maybe even a little bit tragic. Yet they endure.

There are other relationships bubbling around my fictional world, too. Music writer Chelle LaFleur has a crush on Mitchell (and who in her right mind doesn’t? He’s a dashing, romantic sort of guy with charisma out the very cute wazoo) — and has since she first saw them driving into town in his dad’s Ford Bronco with a U-Haul on back. Read about it here — and marvel with me at how Chelle’s voice has evolved.

Notice how much of this revolves around Mitchell? That’s what being loyal to the cool people does for you, and one of the coolest people around is Lyric. Read about her first encounters with Mitchell here — and watch for more to come. I’ve got them stashed aside for the right time to spring them on you.

I suspect that as this thing grows, as we get closer to getting Trevor’s Song into some form of print, there will be more characters who are friends of the core crew around here. New friends, old friends — friends are where it’s at.

Says the woman who sits behind her computer all day, with only a cat for company…

(did you buy that last line?)

If you want to learn more about any of these characters, use the Cast of Characters tab at the top of the page.

Lately, I’ve taken to posting about authors whose new releases cross my radar. There are plenty of them, of course — and I’m always looking for more. Since my latest update has thirteen authors with new releases (or re-releases), I figured I’d let the band party for another week and remind you of the good stuff that’s already out there. Buying a book in the first 90 days of its release is a great way to support your favorite author (followed only by buying up everything else they’ve published in the past). Here you go: Thirteen Book Blips on Susan’s Radar 1. Anna J. Evans Wicked Witch of the West Village Devil Take Me 2. RG Alexander Who Needs Another Superhero? 3. Carrie Alexander Nobody’s Hero 4. Donica Covey Tides of Maryna’s Love 5. Dakota Cassidy Accidentally Dead 6. Amy Wallen MoonPies and Movie Stars is now out in paper! 7. Christina Dodd Into the Shadow 8. Shelley Munro Price of Love 9. Jennifer Estep Karma Girl has been re-released in the mass-market-size format 10. Elin Hilderbrand A Summer Affair 11. Lorelei James Tied up, Tied Down 12. Stephanie Kuehnert I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone 13. Vanessa Jaye Felicity Stripped Bare Let me know if you’ve encountered anything great, rave-worthy, or just worth talking about. Yes, feed my small book problem! ** A lack of link in the book title simply means you can’t buy it via Powells. It’s no statement of quality.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will try to link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Maybe it’s a byproduct of that Thursday Thirteen I did about the Fake Bands site (which, according to its owner, won’t be updated anytime soon). Maybe it’s because I took the advice of many of you groupies and am working on my own listing of books about rock and roll. Maybe it’s just because something’s in the air.

BUT.

All of a sudden, I’m hearing about all these books that are coming out/have been released relatively recently that focus on … what else? Rock and roll in some form.

First is Sheila Copeland’s Diamond Revelation. This came out last November; I only found it because I’m that far behind in my print copies of Publishers Weekly.

Then came my dear resource Winter (which is better than a friend), telling me about Kathy Love’s Vampire Band. I’m waiting for these books to show up in my PO Box so I can check them out.

More lately is Jeri Smith-Ready and her latest release, Wicked Game.

And last, Stephanie Kuehnert’s I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramone.

Yep, they’re all on this Rock and Roll Fiction page I’m working on for the website. Don’t worry if you don’t click through and buy them now. You’ll be able to once I finish with the new webpage.

Seems like a trend, huh? We’ve got vamp bands, young adult books about how girls relate to music, “an insider’s view of the music industry, replete with money, materialism, jealousy, deception, sex, and cold hearted ambition” (says Publisher’s Weekly).

So where’s the book about the bass player who finds his life turned upside down the day after his best friend and partner-in-crime goes out and lands a date with a girl all by his lonesome?

Sometimes, when you step back and ponder if your view of things is correct, patience is a virtue that sucks big toes. Ya know? Even when you know the circumstances behind the delays, even when you agree that yes, there should be delays in this case…

I’ve never been patient. Ever. I keep telling myself that this is what I’m supposed to be learning right now: patience. It’ll happen when the time is right, and I probably won’t know when the time is right, no matter how much I want it to be right spanking now.

But, on a happy side, there’s four or five books for all of us to read while we wait. One thing I hear over and over again is that books about rock stars don’t sell.

There’s four (or five, depending on how many of the Kathy Love books you pick up) chances to prove that credo wrong.

Let’s go for it.