West of Mars

I asked my friend, Darcia Helle, the famous Featured New Release question. Ready for her answer? It’s a doozy.

I’ve been asked to name one song that reminds me of my book. Given that I’m a music addict and lyrics have always been my focus, that should be an easy task. It’s not. This is difficult, though not because I can’t come up with one song. I could name many and narrowing the field to one is the hard part. Snippets of songs, one line or an entire verse, will make me think of a character or a scene or a situation from my book. My characters are quite real in my head and I relate music to their lives in the same way I relate it to my own.

But you asked for one song and I have one that is, in my opinion, a perfect fit: This Is Your Life by Switchfoot. The song is simple. You won’t find literary genius or complicated lyrics. What you will find are words that could be the backdrop for Max’s feelings and for what death, and the light, teaches him.

One line that is repeated often in the song sums up the premise: This is your life. Are you who you want to be?

Long before I wrote Into The Light, this song struck me. That one question is powerful. How many people could answer a resounding yes? Life offers no do-overs, as Max discovers all too late.

The song goes on to say: This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be when the world was younger and you had everything to lose…

As I said, the lyrics are simple. Yet, I think for most of us, they strike deep. Max had let the tide of life carry him along. He’d put his dreams on hold, forgotten the passion of his youth. This is a familiar scenario for many of us, though most of us won’t realize it until the end.

You can hear the song here.

But I don’t want you thinking that Max and his story are all gloom and doom. He’s got a goofy side and his personality, even in death, is a lot larger than he realizes. He is not about to give up before he’s ready. We could toss in some Don Henley here:

I will not lie down. I will not go quietly.

And I have to mention one song that makes me laugh. No, the song itself isn’t funny but, as I wrote Into The light, I couldn’t listen to it without cracking a smile. The song is – Is There A Ghost, by Band of Horses: I could sleep, when I lived alone. Is there a ghost in my house?

Max literally haunted my sleep. He kept me awake. He was the most demanding, stubborn character I’ve had in my head so far. (I shudder to think another character could be stronger!) The story had to be written. Of that there was never a doubt. Max also quickly taught me that the story had to be written his way.

Then there’s Joe Cavelli, the P.I. who has both the misfortune and the luck (yes, an oxymoron there) to be the only person alive who could hear Max. Is there a ghost in my house? Yes, that ghost was in my house and in Joe’s. I’ve set Max free now. I’m hoping he’ll be off to haunt other houses for a while.

How’s THAT for an answer??? Wow!

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Note from Susan:

Usually, when I write a piece of fiction based on headlines, I try to mask it as thoroughly as possible. I haven’t done that here, although I have twisted the facts in order to make the absurd even more exaggerated, and the sad even more pathetic. Savvy music fans will by now have heard the story of Coheed and Cambria’s Michael Todd and will undoubtedly know where my inspiration came from. Please know this piece isn’t meant to be my take on what happened. It’s not. It is fiction, inspired by a real life event but fiction nonetheless. I am also most definitely not trying to make light of the tragedy that is addiction. But for the grace of God, the saying goes…

And in the meantime, have some fictional fun with Chelle LaFleur, everyone’s favorite rock reporter.

Now, I been hearin’ stories of stupid folk for my entire life. Chelle here may not be as old as some-a you out there, but she’s heard more stories than any one woman ought to.

This one oughta win some sort of Darwin award or some such.

Gary Westin, whose band West in Dawn, went and got hisself busted a good two hours before he was supposed to take the stage, warmin’ it up for my favorite band in the whole wide world, ShapeShifter.

You know my boyfriend Mitchell Voss weren’t so keen to get the early word on what went down.

Seems that Gary character — and word around town goes along the lines of Gary bein’ somethin’ more than a character — decided to take a walk. That ain’t so unusual. Hangin’ backstage gets borin’ for these boys. They wanna be up on that stage, playin’ their hearts out and listenin’ to us fans scream. So they up and take a walk. Most of ‘em, though, most of ‘em stay inside. Stay nearby. Chelle ain’t the first journalist who’s showed up for an interview only to hear the guy she’s lookin’ for has up and took off, so the choices are either go home or take the nearest available band member.

Gary up and took off, all right. He took hisself down to the corner pharmacy. Just strolled on it, the stories go. So does the video tape. Casual as anythin’, as anyone else.

Until he leaned over the pharmacy counter and whispered somethin’ that the pharmacist swears has to do with bombs and explosions and dyin’ right there, two hours before the show, ‘less Gary can get his hands on some quality drugs.

Chelle ain’t talkin’ ’bout no Midol, boys and girls. Chelle’s talkin’ ’bout oxy.

Yep, Gary Westin, the dude behind West in Dawn, is an addict.

The best part-a this story ain’t been told yet, boys and girls. You still with Chelle? Seems that pharmacist believed Gary’s story, so she handed over three bottles of the stuff. Three a-them industrial-sized bottles, the ones the pharmacists get and then pour out and count your drugs from. They’s hundreds and thousands pills in there. Gary walked off with three of ‘em. He got hisself a quality heist, all right.

Now, this is where it starts to get good. Gary left that fake bomb in the doorway of the corner pharmacy and started to stroll off, probably back to that place where he’d be playin’ for ShapeShifter in a few. Time was startin’ to get short. The rest of his band was gatherin’ for a pre-show dinner.

But Gary, all he can think about is gettin’ one-a them pills inside, where it’ll do him some good. His nose started runnin’ and he started jonesin’ and the next thing you knew, Gary took a step off the curb in whatever uptight city they was in, and the cop who’s showin’ up to talk to the pharmacist grabs onto Gary. Them pills all go jiggle as he tries to stuff all three bottles down his pants, but the cop? He’s more worried ’bout the fact our man Gary is jaywalkin’ on his way back from the corner pharmacy. It takes the pharmacist to point out how Gary ain’t that well endowed by Mother Nature.

By the time it all gots sorted out and word got back to my ShapeShifter boys, it was one hour to showtime. And the openin’ act went and got hisself thrown in the slammer. I told you Chelle ain’t heard anythin’ so stupid in her entire life.

This story got part of a happy endin’, anyway. My ShapeShifter boys took the rest of West in Dawn and jumped up on that stage and played a whole slew-a cover tunes that had the crowd rockin’ out. Then they turned right on around and played another two hours of ShapeShifter songs.

Last I hear, Gary’s facin’ twenty years for stealin’ that oxy, and two weeks on top-a that for the jaywalkin’.

You heard it first and you heard it here: If you gotta get your fix, don’t jaywalk on your way back from holdin’ up the corner pharmacy. Hear?

Another note from Susan: I’ve been kicking around the idea of how to let Chelle tell this story, so thanks to the wonders at Three Word Wednesday for providing me with three really good words that unlocked the piece.

I met Katie Salidas over at the BestsellerBound.com forums. I think I’ve mentioned them before; it’s a great community, full of awesome writers. If you’re a reader, you’ll want to check out this group. I haven’t found a clunker book among our catalog (although I admit I haven’t read nearly as many as I’d like to).

The group is SO strong, in fact, that this is the first of three Featured New Releases I’ll be bringing you guys in the near future.

Katie’s new book, Pandora’s Box, is the third in her Immortals series.

Here’s what Katie said when asked the famed Question:
What song makes you think of your book?

This, being book three in my Immortalis series, has its own song. Each book has had a specific feel. Sometimes fast paced, and sometimes slow, depressing, and moody. But Pandora’s Box I feel has more creepy yet touching feel. For this reason I choose Haunted by Poe.

Just listen to it. The feel of the melody, the lyrics, the spooky background sounds. It’s a very good song!

You know, I hear about Poe fairly often. I have a friend who even sent me a CD, but… to no avail. I know. I ought to fix that.

YOU ought to fix it, also. And while you’re fixing things, why not pick up a copy of Pandora’s Box? Or even the whole series; Katie would like it if you did that.

She even made it easy. Here’s a TON of buy links:
Amazon US Kindle

Amazon US Print

Amazon UK Kindle

Amazon UK Print

Barnes & Noble

Author Autographed Copies

And… now, about the book!

After a few months as a vampire, Alyssa thought she’d learned all she needed to know about the supernatural world. But her confidence is shattered by the delivery of a mysterious package – a Pandora’s Box. Seemingly innocuous, the box is in reality an ancient prison, generated by a magic more powerful than anyone in her clan has ever known. But what manner of evil could need such force to contain it? When the box is opened, the sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. The clan soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted. Powerless against the ancient evil, the clan flees Las Vegas for Boston, with only a slim hope for salvation. Could Lysander’s old journals hold the key? And what if they don’t? And how welcome will they be in a city run by a whole different kind of supernatural being? Werewolves…

I don’t know if it’s the writer in me or what, but when there’s a chance to do something new and/or different, I’m usually right at the front of the line, eager for my chance to experience whatever it is.

Last night, it was Pittsburgh’s new Arena Football League team, the Power.

The offer had come down through the Boy Scouts. Discount tickets, a meet and greet with the coach beforehand, the game, a bobblehead for all, and an autograph session afterward. Turns out the only thing special was the meet and greet with the coach, who called a few of the players over, as well. Next time, I hope he uses a better script.

As we walked onto the field at the Consol — yes, where my Penguins spend the winter. And fall. And spring. And, in good years, the early part of summer — many of the players were sitting on the walls, and we had to go around them. A few thanked us for coming. All were gracious and glad to see us; attendance this first year hasn’t been so great. Last night, the team pulled in 8600, into an arena that packs 18,000 in for hockey. (To be fair, a number of the seats in the Consol are blocked off for Power games. But I do wonder if those seats would be open, should demand be there.)

So I’m feeling good about this. The team, they’re classy. A far cry from the usual stories we see on the news. Not to mention the hoopla over Hines Ward’s arrest for apparent DUI over the weekend.

And then the game begins. Yes, it’s faster than the NFL, which is a game I refuse to ever attend in person again. Every time I call my attention back to the field, the play’s over. Give me my clean bathrooms at home, my heated family room, and Tunch and Billy on the radio, you know?

But there’s more. This game’s got ATTITUDE. It’s in the announcer, who’s just great. It’s in the coach, who was on the field (what??? Seriously! He stood ON the field like I did when I coached ice hockey for six year olds!). It’s in the crowd, who dances and shouts and whoo-boy, are some of these fans into their Power. It’s in the halftime show, which was a real show, complete with local singer. And the Sparks, the professional dance team.

I’d go back, most definitely. I doubt I’d ever learn to love the AFL as much as I love my hockey, but that’s not a shock to anyone. It was a fun night, and the team makes good on their fan’s bill of rights. (I’ll let you read it yourself.) I’d have loved to stay for the autograph session after the game, but the team was blown out, it was a Sunday night, and we were all tired.

Definitely next time.

I’m looking forward to watching this team grow and improve. For a first year to be 8 and 8 is pretty darn good. I’ve sat through Penguin seasons that weren’t nearly as successful, and that’s in the past ten years. And the Pirates? Sheesh.

One note, though: the Sparks. When my daughter and I went to the bathroom (why are they bigger, roomier, and with a nicer floor than up in the upper bowl, where our Penguin seats are?), she said, “It looks like some of the Sparks had plastic surgery on their chests.”

She’s almost NINE. And she can spot a pair of falsies. (I wonder what Charlotte at the Great Fitness Experiment would say to that?)

Skinny may be sexy, but having nice toned muscles is sexier. And for those dancers who didn’t get implants? (and yes, there are some) Kudos. Ladies, you are athletes, too, remember. Embrace your bodies, take care of them, and let the world see that a strong, toned woman is a sexy woman.

It wasn’t quite a month ago that I sat down to catch up on that bane of my existence, the feed reader. In it was a post from the Fat Cyclist himself.

That’s not unusual. I subscribe to his feed. I expect to see posts from him. I like to sit and dream about being able to have a life like his, where he can ride his bike on rollers and go out in the gorgeous country where he lives. I’ve followed him through the loss of his wife, Susan, to breast cancer, and to a new love with a woman he first nicknamed The Runner and now calls The Hammer.

I’ve also followed his many ways of raising money for the LiveStrong foundation. I haven’t jumped in most of his exploits (although I almost jumped at this year’s 100 Miles of Nowhere; look for me to give in and do it next year), but the one I ran into those few weeks ago was one I couldn’t stay away from.

Fatty — his real name’s Elden, but really, why call him Elden when Fatty is so much more… Fatty-esque? — has teamed up with this place I’d never heard of — the +3 Network. Over there, SRAM has sponsored a challenge. For every activity you log in, they’ll donate money to bikes for kids in Africa through an organization called World Bicycle Relief.

That’s the jist of the whole +3 Network. Sign up, join challenges. Log your activity. The sponsors will take care of the rest.

So… I’ve joined Team Fatty. I’d like you, if you’re the active type, to join me. I mean, hello? We’re working out, exercising, bike riding, walking, what have you anyway, right? There are all sorts of activities for you to log, from the mundane (walking, mountain biking) to the more esoteric (table tennis! Rowing! Roller Derby!) — and even credit for for physical therapy/rehab and stretching. In a sense, you could challenge yourself to trying all the different activities at least once. You can also get credit for chores, folks, and volunteer time.

It’s an easy way to make a difference. Come join me, will ya?

I love it when Smashwords does site-wide promotions. Anything I discount down to free flies off the shelves. Needless to say, I love watching the numbers tick upwards.

Do some of these people come back and buy? Do they read what they download?

I don’t know. I know I read, at least (and yes, there IS a lot of poor quality stuff out there. No argument there.), although I remain too backed up, even with e-books, to spend a lot of money on books right now.

Anyway, to help encourage people to read and return to buy my books, I have joined the Smashwords Summer Sale. Like usual, the first two Demo Tapes anthologies are free, and for the first time, so is Mannequin.

Trevor’s Song and Demo Tapes: Year 3 are half off.

Which means for $3, you can have FOUR books and a short story.

Like always, take advantage. Tell your friends. Spread the word. And once you’re done downloading my books, go find some new authors to read. Or explore. Since, you know, you won’t like anything. But if you hit up the freebies, at least you’re not out any money if you hate what you read.

(and if you don’t hate it, why not leave a review somewhere? The more somewheres, the better, of course, but… one somewhere is also awesome.)

A little over two weeks ago, a meme started appearing. It’s a simple one, that asks the participant to fill in this sentence: Writing is like…

Both Joel Kirkpatrick and Darcia Helle have asked me to answer. And while I originally posted a short answer to Joel over at his GoodReads blog (does anyone read those on a regular basis?), once Darcia came around asking a second time, I figured I’d need to answer it here. For everyone to see.

My answer to Joel was “Writing is like breathing.”

I say that often when asked about my writing and my need to write. It’s always been this way for me; others need to breathe. I need to write.

I remember being in graduate school and going over to my cousin’s house one night for dinner. Being there for dinner wasn’t unusual; I was around often. It was that she turned to me and said, “What are you working on in the book? You’re awfully cranky. Is it a fight scene?”

By Jove, she was right.

I’ve also heard, “You’re cranky. When was the last time you wrote?” Or, “You’re in a good mood. Get a lot of pages written today?” (Yeah, that was my pre-kid, Pre-Facebook/Twitter years when I routinely wrote 8-10 pages a day. I miss those days.)

It’s more than a mood equalizer, though. Writing is what I do. It’s who I am. It’s my drive to get out of bed in the morning and it’s usually the last thing I think about — well, my characters and their story, not the act of writing so much — before I go to bed. My characters live with me. You guys aren’t surprised to hear this. You’re expecting it because my characters live with you, as well (and thank you for allowing them into your lives).

Writing is the essential part of me. It’s what I now offer to people in search of help. “Do you need a writer?” or “You know, you can call on me and my writing skills. I’m here if you need anything.” It used to be I’d say, “What do you need?” Now it’s focused. “Let me write for you.”

“Writers write,” I tell people with a shrug. My local Boy Scout district and The Boy Band’s Troop are full of men who thank me for stepping up and offering to write things like Court of Honor ceremonies and press releases.

It’s who I am and it’s what I do.

You can say the same thing about the need and act of drawing air into one’s lungs. It’s what we do. It’s how we survive, how we cope when things get stressed. We inhale. Hold it. Exhale. We use it to shape our day, our lives, our activities.

Thus, writing is like breathing.

(I’m supposed to tag someone, but if you’re a writer, have at it. Drop me an link and I’ll post it here.)
Look! Robin at My Two Blessings took me up on the offer.