Been having fun with Rocktober?

I sure have been. I’ve been here, I’ve been there, I’ve been … well, not everywhere yet, but I’m sure trying!

Now come hang with me at Horror. Punk. Buddhism. I’m talking about everyone’s favorite rebel, Trevor Wolff.

Not enough? Need something more? How about some talk about what exactly Rocktober is. I dropped into The Top Shelf for that.

There’s more yet to come… I’ve been working the promo machine and loving every second of it. Loving you guys who share my whereabouts, as well. Vive la Trevolution!

Or maybe we don’t… I’ll let you go read for yourself and decide.

I have neglected to tell you guys about two interviews I’ve given that have been posted over the past couple of days.

First, Cynthia Meyers-Hanson hosted me for some talk about Demo Tapes 3. Stop in and see what I used as an excerpt…

Then, LM Stull asked me some questions about marketing. Oh, stop groaning. Marketing’s too much fun to be a necessary evil.

The Aftermath of my Falling Tree Branch story was, quite possibly, even more interesting than the original tale.

Here’s how it went:

At five after eight on Wednesday morning, I filed the claim with the insurance company. Have I mentioned how dearly I love my insurance company? They make it easy: I could use my own people to do the work, not someone picked off a list they’ve already approved. No need for multiple estimates, none of those games other companies make you play.

At 8:30, my neighbor (love her, too. Lots of love ahead. Makes ya wonder how I can have a Trevor-self) tailed me over to the mechanic. Having her there was a soothing presence, as I could see shards of glass coming loose and threatening to fall from the poor windshield. I asked the mechanic for someone to fix the windshield and a body shop. Turns out, the body shop is right across the street. I thought that meant across the street and down a storefront or two. Didn’t think much about it. I should have. Right across the street meant exactly that.

Back at home, I called the windshield people. The plan was to fix the windshield and drive the car until the body shop could take me.

No go.

Turns out, if there’s damage to the roof, they can’t replace a windshield. Makes sense to me. (especially since I’d been scared to close the moon roof, in case it damaged the windshield further.)

At 11:30, the woman assigned to my insurance claim called. I told her where the car was, in case the adjuster assigned to the case was free.

He was.

In fact, the guy from the body shop had to wander back across the street so the adjuster could work. Turns out, they BOTH came back later to finish up. And yes, the owner of the body shop IS the father of the cool twenty-some Eagle Scout who spent a week at Summer Camp with our Troop. Because, you know, it was his son’s Troop before it was mine.

Isn’t this a grand adventure so far? All these people, chipping in so fast and getting to work on my behalf. But wait. There’s more.

At the end of the day, I called the mechanic. The car was done; they were waiting on the person to fix the glass. I told them about the need to fix the roof first and said I’d call the body shop to see if I could leave the car there.

The body shop told me to call the mechanic back and ask the head mechanic to drive the car on over. What service! I didn’t even have to leave the house!

The adjuster called around 5:30 to say he was done and he’d fax everything to the right places in the morning. We are moving so fast, I don’t even have a rental car yet. Picked that up on Thursday morning, then stopped in at the body shop to get my bike shoes out of the car, among other things. (Left my membership card for the Hoity-Toity Health Club behind, though. Ahh, well. They’ll still let me in.)

John, the body shop owner, told me that yes, I did dodge a bullet. A big one. He’ll have me up and running in two weeks.

Two weeks! I can live with that! I think… the rental car (and if you’ve ever wondered, yes, Enterprise really does pick you up) has about as much get up and go as a tree sloth. After six years with a sports car, this is going to be quite the adjustment…

And so the adventure continues. Know what? This might be sort of sick and twisted of me, but… it’s sorta fun.

Nine and a half years ago, September 20 was my projected due date for my second child.

Nine years after that estimation was wrong, it became a day for celebrating life.

Yeah, that’s melodramatic, but let me explain.

I was driving me and the Girl Band up a road. Not just any road, but one I take almost daily. It’s one of my main arteries. And it’s a road I love, for its big trees and shady street. It’s like being in the woods. Even the Borough bears the word woods in its name.

I still love the road. What happened wasn’t the road’s fault. It was one of those things that happens when you’re in the woods.

Now, mind you, it was only 8PM when it all happened. It was just about dark. But even if it hadn’t been, I doubt I would have seen the tree branch until it made contact with my windshield.

Thank God the windshield held.

The tree branch? The cop, after he finished his report, walked me back to visit it. It wasn’t that little log I’d seen in my rear-view mirror and wanted to take home as a souvenir. It was over five feet long (an easy estimation for me to make, since I’m five feet long. Err, tall. Or is that short?), and it had shattered into about 30 pieces. One had hit my hood and my side-view mirror. One had bounced up and hit my roof … I measured it. It’s the width of my hand behind the moon roof.

So. One impact on the windshield, about a foot from the moon roof. And another impact maybe four inches behind it.
You know where this is going. You know it was a gorgeous almost-autumn night, that I’d been in the local park with The Girl Band, so my lungs were all full of the amazing air I can’t get enough of this time of year.

Which means, of course, my moon roof was open.

Open, as in retracted into the back panel of the roof. As in: no glass to protect us from any tree branches that decided a gorgeous almost-autumn night was the perfect time to break free and see what adventures it could find.

As in: we were damn lucky, me and the Girl Band.

Thankfully, the windshield held. I know I said that, but it didn’t just hold after the impact. Nope. It held long enough for me to pick up the Boy Band, to show off the damage to all the Boy Scouts — who, of course, thought it was the coolest thing ever and can I poke the impact spot and make the glass completely shatter? — and then to make it home again. Safe, if not totally sound.

I’m mourning the damage to my beloved sports sedan. But damn if it didn’t save our lives tonight (with a little help from fates or higher powers or whatever it is you believe in). This is the reason I drive that car. Okay, one of the reasons. It goes vroom. It’s nimble. It has an eight-way adjustable seat. And it was the Car and Driver car of the year… the model year before and after mine. Did I mention it’s barely given me a minute’s worth of trouble in all the years I’ve owned it? Did I mention how utterly I adore this car?

Now, for the irony. You see, I had made an appointment for early last week to take the car in for a routine tire rotation and oil change. I had made a note to tell my new mechanic (love him, too) that there seems to be an issue with my driver’s side rear brake light. But I’d changed that appointment, to make it easier for the friend who’s going to drive me to and from the mechanic (only because I’m too wimpy to ride my bike. It’s totally that close).

Yep. The car goes in tomorrow.

I’m sure the insurance company will send the glass guy out to give me a new windshield — it’s not going to hold for much longer. Thankfully (I’m using that word a lot tonight, no?), the mechanic is close, as I said. Bike-ride close. The insurance company, who I adore and have been with my entire driving life, will send an adjuster wherever I tell them to. They’ll make it easy.

So forgive me if I spend a few days hugging the kids, especially the Girl Band. We dodged one tonight. You’d better believe I’m giving thanks for that. The outcome of this little escapade could have been a lot, lot worse.

Thankfully…

This Boy Scout still loves the woods. Even if, every now and then, it bites.

Stop in over at the Amwriting blog today. I’m talking about the cool thing I discovered with my return to freelance editing.

And while I have you… anyone need an edit? I’ve got a gap in my schedule…

I’m trying really hard not to start this post off by saying, “If you follow Win a Book or if you follow me on my Facebook fan page…” but it’s hard.

That’s because the news broke on those two outlets before I could make the time to talk about it here. That’s just how life has been of late. I’m working on correcting that. I am.

Want proof? Go check out the news that broke over at Win a Book and/or the West of Mars Fans page on Facebook.

Don’t feel like clicking? Then I’ll come out and say it. I closed down Win a Book.

It was and it wasn’t an easy decision. The time involved was starting to seriously chafe, as were the e-mails I’d get asking what we did (hello? Check the FAQ page, maybe?) and other things that proved people weren’t really visiting before sending in their links. It made me feel cheap. It took away from the original intent of the site.

The intent went like this: I had some friends who were discovering that giving books away was a great way to build their audience. They were listing their gives at certain sites that posted links to all sorts of gives. I liked hearing about what books people were talking about, but I didn’t like wading through all the gives for diaper bags and board books and other goodies targeted to the Mommy Blogger set. I’m a writer, after all, and a book lover. I wanted books, not items from a stage of my life that’s passed.

That was the idea behind Win a Book. Simple, huh? Since no one else was posting links to book gives, I would. Hopefully I’d gather a team up and we’d be off and running together. We’d be a one-stop shop for gives — and interviews and guest blog posts penned by authors. After all, I have picked up someone’s book because I read an interview or guest blog they wrote. I’ve made friends that way, and I’ve found some auto-buy authors.

At first, it was great fun. I had awesome people helping. It was a party. It was MY party, and people told me they liked the style with which I hosted. I heard from authors about how their sales would spike after I’d do a post for them. I was doing what I’d wanted to do: be a difference. Because part of my mission was to help the authors who had 90 days only for their book to make or break itself. I was tired of hearing stories of authors who’d lost their book deals due to the dreaded bad sales label.

Of course, reality can never match the ideal dream, and while Win a Book took off, I also began to see a downside to it. Not merely the time involved — I called it my labor of love for a reason, after all — but I began to see a real divide. Books that were promoted by the publisher rarely included involvement from the author. And books promoted directly by the author were the exact opposite — you’d see a real Internet savvy among this set.

To be honest, they were my favorite group to work with. They were hungry. They knew how to connect with their readers.

The book bloggers were right up the awesome scale, too. Some became true friends, women I’ve leaned on and been inspired by. Women I look to for book recommendations. But they all, without fail, are on the front lines of publishing, helping get the word out about all different sorts of books. Good books, bad books, books that rhyme with fun. They’re doing it.

I didn’t work directly with publishers, although I’d sometimes get an e-mail from a publicist, asking if I’d host a give on Win a Book. I’d have to explain that no, the site didn’t do that, but I’d be glad to post links to other contests they were involved with. Again, a time drain, but again, a worthwhile one.

That brings us to my least favorite things, and the things that really rankled. It was posting links for gives of books by James Patterson and JK Rowling. You know: books that were already best-sellers. Remember, part of my motivation here was to help the little guy, not the multi-millionaire authors. I did — and still do — believe that if the publishers put more promotion money into the little guy, there would be more best-sellers. I’ve seen it work, seen the power of the very awesome book bloggers. These men and women have clout, folks. Don’t disregard them.

(and, like I said, many of them are some of the most upstanding people you’ll ever meet.)

So… the lessons here:
1. Sometimes, you can’t heal the world. Or the publishing business.
2. You can’t control what people send you, in terms of links to post. Their agenda ain’t the same as yours.
3. There are some of the most totally awesome people out there who love books.
4. And sometimes, moving on is sad, but the road ahead is darn bright and exciting.

For any of you who have migrated over here from Win a Book, welcome. For you who’ve been here a long time, I’m going to do my best to devote more time here, including fiction (it’s been almost 2 months!). I miss Win a Book, but… time to move on.

At least I don’t have to help promote best-selling authors anymore. Not if it means ignoring the little one, the one who’s tomorrow’s best-seller.

Like me.

Hard to believe it’s only just over a year that I’ve been hanging out at Bestseller Bound, a message board for us writers. I’ve raved about the community before. (Check out the baskets of books they contributed to for the Pennwriters Conference a few months ago, and here’s talk of the site, as well as of the first sample anthology.)

I really love these guys. They are supportive and laid-back. When people come to me for advice about indie publishing, I tell the cool ones to join us at Bestseller Bound.

So… to celebrate the first birthday, a lot of us have gotten together and come up with a giveaway contest. Check out the list of prizes, stop in and visit the other bloggers who’re listed (they are also promoting the contest)… all the usual things you do to get to know a new author and see if his or her books might strike your fancy.

Darcia: http://www.QuietFuryBooks.com/blog
Cindy: http://mchanson714.blogspot.com/
Maria: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1418272.Maria_Savva/blog
Jaime: InkyBlots
Joel: The Tale is the Thing

Here are the prizes!

1. 1 coupon code for a free ebook copy of The Dream by Maria Savva from Smashwords.
2. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Darcia Helle.
3. 1 coupon code for The Choice by Sydney S. Song from Smashwords.
4. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of Echo Falls by Jaime McDougall.
5. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Gareth Lewis.
6. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of The Other Room by James Everington
7. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of any one title by Susan Helene Gottfried
8. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for free ebook copy of Nexus Point by Jaleta Clegg
9. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for a free eBook copy of “2010 Hindsight: A Year of Personal Growth, In Spite of Myself,” by Sharon E. Cathcart
10. 1 coupon code from Smashwords for a free eBook copy of “Caraliza” and also “Breathing into Stone” by Joel Kirkpatrick
11. 1 free hardbound, signed copy of Joel’s secret 5th novel, shipped the week it is released.

You know, I might be really insulted if the winner picks Mannequin as their free download. Not because it’s not as good as anything more directly related to the Trevolution, but because it’s only 99c!

Now that it’s September, it’s time to look even further ahead than I have been lately (thanks to those of you who’ve inquired about editing. It’s nice to see I’ve developed quite a good reputation among you all!).

October will rock this year. October rock will rock so hard, we’re renaming the month Rocktober.

I am looking for folk to join me in celebrating rock and roll on your blogs. Feature a book, or an author. Give books away. Talk about music. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I just want you to rock the whole month long!

The full details are still evolving, but one thing I can promise you: if you post a review about any of my books (or short stories, stand-alones or anthologies) and drop me a line to the url, not only will I post it on the proper review page here on West of Mars, but I’ll also add you to a list of folk who’ll get advance readers copies when the next book is ready. The more reviews you post, the higher up on the list you’ll be. (and yes, you loyal folk are already on it. Or will be as soon as I make it, but I know you need to go up there. Have no fear. I’ll take care of you.)

Review copies will, of course, be e-books, probably a .pdf. Just so you know. File that for future reference.

And holler if you’d like to join Rocktober. I’ll be posting all the links as you guys report ’em, so get busy!

Well, I gotta tell you. I’m glad to see this summer end. Talk about a summer of upheaval.

Okay, that’s enough talk about the summer of upheaval. The kids went back to school today and that means summer’s over. So let’s move forward…

* Check out my review of Jeremy Wagner’s The Armageddon Chord over at Rocks ‘n Reads. I love, love, love the plot of this book!

* I need new windows, and a whole bunch of other stuff. Like clothes. And chocolate. Which means I’ll be ramping the promo machine back up, so please join in and help out. More books sold equals windows I can open without fear.

* I’ve also opened myself up to freelance copy and line editing work. If you’d like to have your book copy edited or have the grammar, language, and word choice worked over, drop me a line. I’m starting out cheap, too, especially if you’re someone who’s done me a solid in the past.

* I am hunting for someone who can help tweak this here blog, and do it for a price that’s not exorbitant. If you are that person, or know the right one, please get us in touch. I haven’t made significant changes since 2009. I’m totally overdue (as many of you will agree).

That’s it for now. I’ve got a few other things I’d like to work on, like books, so I’ll go tend to that now. All your support and help during this transitional time for me will be GREATLY appreciated.

And did I mention Rocktober? I’ll put that in its own post…

I have given the most important interview of my life. It’s over at Jemima Valentino’s blog, so head on over and check it out.

Very very important. I promise.

In other news, I miss being online. School starts soon, so even though middle school will cause my day to be shortened, I’ll be back!

Whoops! I forgot the link, huh? Let’s fix that…

Seriously. We set off for a place called Joe’s Barbecue, or something like that. Joe’s something or other. Only… it’s not there anymore (thanks, Internet, for telling us that!). Okay, we figure. That’s how things go. We’ll go down to the next beach town and try one of the two restaurants next to each other. We hear they are good.

Only… there’s no parking. Well, there is but it’s competitive and I’m on vacation, thankyouverymuch. Besides, we brought MY car and heaven forbid it get dinged up. Or worse. (Besides, it’s got to get us HOME in a couple of days.)

I suggest going past our beach town, to the seaport south of us. But it’s another 8 minutes and there’s been a serious rebellion against the car on this vacation. With a 13-hour drive home, can you blame any of us?

So we stop at the base of the bridge, at a place called The Bridge Grill. Can you say DIVE?

It surprises none of you to hear how much I love dives. This one does a robust mini-golf business, but at the same time has such a fantastic beer list, I was sorry I was driving. I don’t know where everyone else was ’cause the food — basic burgers, dogs, chicken fingers — was darn good, with the best fries this side of home.

And the guys working? Awesome. Total fun, laid back, eager to please… I laughed from the time I sat down, even when our dude almost spilled my husband’s drink in his lap, when I found that the women’s room was out of commission (apparently, part of the toilet seat was broken, making one of the regulars wonder why no one had run up to Wal-Mart and bought another) and everyone had to use the men’s…

Definitely my kind of place.

Now that you’ve all Googled The Bridge Grill (they are on Facebook!) and found where I am, I fully expect my stalkers to show up and take pictures of me shaking the minnows out of my board shorts… Look for those to be on Facebook before I get home.

*sigh*

Hey, stalkers. Stop in at The Bridge Grill for fries and beer, will ya? This place rocked. I’m giving them a definite West of Mars Stamp of Approval.

Okay, I am an idiot.

When I truly am an idiot, I have no problem owning up to that fact. Thus, I am an idiot.

You see, I’ve been asked, by various writer and reader friends, to attend various writerly events held in Charleston, West Virginia. “Too far,” I’d always say. “It’s like six hours or something, and this excuse and that excuse and a third bad excuse thrown in for good measure.”

I am an idiot.

We got down there in four hours today, including a couple of stops. Now, that’s just travelling down to the exits on 79, not trying to navigate the city itself. But holy heck! It’s ONE ROAD, a road that’s literally three miles from my house. It actually might be less than three miles. In all these years of living West of Mars, I’ve never thought to clock it.

How freaking easy is that????

It was a beautiful drive, too. I loved the mountains. Loved the trees.

So, the next time I hear of a writerly event down in Charleston, you’d better believe I’ll be checking my calendars. My kids are still young enough that leaving for a lot of weekends is tough on everyone, and I do have other commitments that will make it tough sometimes to travel to as many events as I’d like. (Which means: as the kids get older, expect to see me road tripping WAY more often. That also means you need to buy more of my books so I have the funds to make these things happen.) But the intent is there, and it’s a super-duper drive. I’ll be doing it again. Definitely.

And not just ’cause I need to walk the bridge over the New River Gorge.

In other notes of my trip thus far….

* Cell phone towers are ugly. And tall. They stick up over the trees and mountains like invading aliens (anyone else watching Falling Skies?).

* We had either the incredible luck or the incredible misfortune of driving past an accident scene on the interstate just as Life Flight landed on the opposite side of the highway. We were close enough to be caught in the wind from the chopper’s rotors. I hope whoever had driven through that guard rail and caused the highway to be closed (for how long, I have no idea) is okay.

* We are headed to an undisclosed location, but it involves the letters A-B-C-E-H. You may hear more from me this week. You may not.

* We are spending the night in a city where, I realized when I saw the billboard, an old frenemy lived. Maybe she was always an enemy; she never made any bones about holding her enemies closer than her friends, as in the old adage. It’s strange to think of her again. It’s stranger to have seen the billboard, which I only caught a glance of. Can you say Adam & Eve?

* The beloved satellite radio makes road tripping almost like being in a time warp. It somehow removes the feeling that you’re actually going somewhere, even as the miles tick by, along with the minutes. It has to do with the fact you never have to find a radio station you can stomach. It spoils us but at the same time makes road tripping sooooo easy.

* My travelling companions are lame. They read almost the entire 8 hours it took us to get here. I have informed them all that they only brought so many books and if they complain once we’re at the A-B-C-E-H place, I’m going to SMIRK at them. I saw amazingly cool things today. Makes me wonder what I would have seen if I hadn’t been the driver. Why read when there’s an ever-changing show outside the window????

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?

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.

It’s the first weekend of summer vacation, so I’m headed to the pool and stuff with the kids. Get it in before I get tired of them, you know?

I have some new fiction for you. Well, not really. It’s old fiction that’s been hanging around my hard drive, waiting for the right time to make an appearance. But it’s new to you and it features a tender scene with Mitchell and Kerri and I just love it, so…

Head on over to the #amwriting online home site and read it there. Yes, it’ll be included in Demo Tapes 5. But it’ll be AT LEAST two years before that comes out (most likely. I mean, hello? Have you seen Demo Tapes 3 yet? This week, I promise — well, not in print. That’s going to take a bit longer. Stupid mail.).

Why wait? Go read it now.

Yep, it’s true. If you’re in or near Pittsburgh, you ought to road trip over to the Penguin Bookstore in Sewickley on June 17. Come between 4 and 7.

You just may see a certain someone emerge from behind the famed Orange S on a Red Background.

If you come early enough — between 4 and 5 — you can ask her a question as part of the Q&A.

If you buy one of her books, you can even get her autograph. It might even look like this: (not really, but you can hope!)

June 17. Penguin Bookstore. Sewickley, PA. 4-7PM.

No better time to join the Trevolution. It’s an ever better time to let the Trevolution grow.

Okay, it’s Friday and we’re going to try this Hangout thing one more time. Maybe it’ll work. I hope so.

Here’s something to inspire you. The cover of ShapeShifter: The Demo Tapes (Year 3). Awesome art by my good friend Lakota Phillips.

You’ll be able to buy the book June 15, if all goes well. I’ll keep you posted.

Before I go, here’s the Hangout rules:
Here are the rules…

1. Leave a comment here, on this post. Say hello to me, tell me what you’re reading, what song you’re jamming to… You pick, just say SOMEthing! Leave your link (I can’t get Comment Luv to work regularly) to your blog.

2. Go visit the blog link in the comment above you. Tell them “I’m from West of Mars” and hopefully something nice about their post. Because, you know, the best way to make new friends is to actually read what they write.

3. When three people have left a comment since your last one, you may play again. If no one’s commented for two hours, you may play again. This is the ONLY time you may visit someone other than the person above you.

4. If you’re new here, your comment will go into moderation. I’m going to try to keep on top of that, but do check back to make sure no one missed you. If you were skipped, leave another comment — even if you break the three-person rule.

5. Be nice. Have fun. Make new friends — that’s what this is all about. And, of course, I operate on the Commutative Principle of Friendships, whereby any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Which means anyone and everyone is welcome to play.

6. Game ends Sunday night, even if I post something again in the meantime.

There just isn’t any other word for it but COOL.

It may have taken 113 years to realize Andrew Carnegie’s full vision for what was one of the country’s (and perhaps the world’s, but I don’t know that much history about libraries around the world) first free library, but it’s happening. In Homestead, PA.

If you don’t know, it ain’t like West of Mars. Homestead’s an old steel town. Unemployment is rife. Unlike around here, high school graduates aren’t assumed by anyone to be heading off to the Ivy League.

The library? The third one in the city built by Mr. Carnegie as part of his chagrin over the Homestead Strike (or so I was taught in my Pittsburgh history classes and you can tell I don’t recall ALL the details.). This place OOZES history.

And now it oozes sweat — from the thousand-seat music hall. From the health club. Yes, a health club in a library!

But wait. You know how libraries ought to be climate controlled, to preserve the books? Well, back in 1898, when the place was built, there wasn’t exactly air conditioning. So that pool in the basement? Made perfect sense.

Apparently, it still does. It’s being renovated, but that doesn’t take away its title as “the longest continually operating heated pool in Western Pennsylvania” (That’s a direct quote from the morning paper and thanks to them for letting me use it).

There’s also a bowling alley inside, which doesn’t surprise me, having spent a few summers in a bowling alley on the Chatham University campus — that one is located inside of what was first a private residence and only later became part of the school. However, the bowling alley in the Carnegie Library of Homestead may find a new purpose: that of a spot for some indoor baseball training.

Doesn’t matter, does it? The idea here is that these extra things will help fund the library and help create a community center. Now, 113 years after Carnegie shared his vision with the city of Pittsburgh, it’s being realized.

Andrew Carnegie was, at times, a controversial figure (see above mention of the Homestead Strike), but for us, today, who are facing budget cuts in our libraries, isn’t this a model we ought to explore more? If that music hall and that health club and that swimming pool can keep people’s minds fed along with their bodies and their musical souls, shouldn’t we support them, cheer them on, and make sure they succeed?

Here’s the link to the full article. Use it. Homestead isn’t the only local library going this route.

Kudos to them. And kudos to anyone else in any other city who heads down this path. Let’s save our libraries, folks!

So it’s Friday and I wasn’t going to do this week’s Three Word Wednesday prompt. I’m busy, as you guys can tell by my lack of Three Word Wednesday and Friday Flashes.

But I opened the feed in my reader anyway and checked out the words. Just in case they inspired me.

Then I went and got myself a new keyboard.

Because, you see, this week’s Three Word Wednesday’s three words are: grin, jumble, and naked.

For real?

Are you sure about that?

Let’s stop and think about this, shall we? Grin. Jumble. Naked.

C’mon. I don’t even have to write this.

Or, if I do, it’ll look like this:

Trevor. Naked jumble. Grin.

There you go. Like you hadn’t already envisioned this, yourselves.