I’m down today with … well, let’s just simplify things and say I threw my back out. So go visit! Make friends! Hang out and keep me company.

Here’s how to play:

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 it. 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.

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.

A couple of years ago, I used to hang around this site. It was devoted to blog party games (and here you didn’t think your blog knew how to party…), and one of the most popular games was the weekend visiting game, we’ll call it.

I’ve decided that, with my blogroll hopelessly out of date and traffic down, this would be a good time to try to revive it.

Here’s how to play:

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 it. 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.

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.

I have, from time to time, mentioned Sue Lange. She’s one of the forces behind the Book View Cafe, an “author cooperative bringing fiction for free and for sale to the web” as they put it.

They do a lot of science fiction, fantasy, and speculative fiction. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to be part. There are some real powerhouse names involved there.

Sue’s not merely the Book View Cafe woman. She’s a music lover with a sense of humor.

That’s why I want you guys to check out this page she posted at Amazon. I am in awe of her ability, her humor, and her inspiration. Like, dude, I SO wish I’d thought to do this…

Be prepared to laugh. And bring your air guitar.

Now, you guys know me. You know I’m a HUGE Metallica fan. You know I consider the band to have written the soundtrack to my life. Hetfield’s lyrics continue to be my own personal pacifier… not that I suck on them or anything. That’s sorta gross and I never really liked the taste of paper, anyway. And even I am not stupid or desperate or anything enough to suck on my monitor.

Then again, try singing some Metallica lyrics. That’s a form of pacifier, right there. Man, those words feel good in my mouth.

Know what else feels good?

An article I found a month ago, from the Marin Journal. It seems my hero frontman bought this HUGE ranch a bunch of years ago. He donated “330 acres of the ranch at higher elevations to the Marin County Open Space District” and then there’s another donation: “440 acres of his adjacent 500-acre property called Rocking H 1 Ranch in a conservation easement he donated to the Open Space District.”

So… am I reading this right? My heavy metal hero has donated SEVEN HUNDRED SEVENTY ACRES to conservation???

Hot damn.

But wait. The man’s not done yet.

(do you believe this??? Hot damn.)

He now wants “to cluster 27 homes on acre lots” — and these aren’t mere shacks, either. Nope. “Aside from several larger lots, homes would be similar in size to those in the Westgate development, and would range from 3,100 to 4,900 square feet. The 1,800-square-foot moderate-income units, clustered in several buildings, would be built in an area near ranch housing and barns along Lucas Valley Road.”

WHEN CAN I MOVE???

I’ve long yearned to live out there, close to some family, away from others, but where bike riding is an everyday part of the culture (I adore my car but would gladly dump it for my Trek Pilot. Or my Specialized Hard Rock. Wish I could do that here, in fact.). I love the light in the Bay Area. Yes, the quality of the sunlight. I love that there’s no snow on the mountainous roads. I love that nights are cool and days are warm. I love that usually, you don’t need to have air conditioning and you can leave your windows open all the time. I love the vibe, the music, the artsy bohemian types, the history — Haight Ashbury, The Fillmore. I love that my amazingly talented high-tech husband could have his pick of high-tech jobs. I love Book Passage and brunch at the Dip Sea. I love, I love, I love…

(okay, I don’t love the weird taxes, the sky-high cost of gasoline, and some of the other nuts and bolts of living out there. I DO see bad and the good. I really do.)

Want something else to love? Check this, from the developer: “described the project as a “win-win for the community,” saying the bulk of the land would remain as open space, cutting valley development potential. Hetfield wants “to set the standard” for fossil-free development, Warner said, adding the rocker “takes the righteous approach.” ”

Read the whole thing for yourself.

Hot damn. I pick some good heroes.

A couple of months ago, at the behest of one of my friends, I went on a review blitz. The reviews are slowly starting to roll in, and I’ve got to say a few things about them.

First, I’m still amazed at how many copies of my books I keep giving away to potential reviewers. With the ability Smashwords gives me to hand out coupon codes for free downloads, as long as I can find reviewers who are willing to read digitally, it costs me nothing. Part of the idea is to generate a review, of course. The other part is to hook folk on Trevor and stimulate them to buy the other two books I’ve got out so far — and to encourage others to buy, also.

It’s a great theory. Problem is, I think I’ve gotten one review for every ten coupons I’ve handed out. Maybe that’s an exaggeration; to be honest, I don’t keep track of the coupons I hand out. I CAN tell you that in February (2011), sixteen books were downloaded from Smashwords. All but two were freebies. Some were offered as part of Operation e-Book Drop, some were contest prizes, and some were copies given to reviewers.

Now, a lot of the reviewers I’ve contacted make no bones about the fact that if they can’t write a positive (or even lukewarm) review, they won’t. They’ll read the book, and then move on to the next. Maybe they won’t even finish the book. I don’t know. I also have no problems with that policy; no one likes being known as the person who smeared a book that was everyone else’s favorite.

Ready? Here comes the but involved in this statement.

No, I’m not asking for negative reviews, folks! Not even close. Or even a “Thanks but this isn’t for me” note. I can live with silence.

What I want to say is that for me, reviews hold more than an evaluation of whether or not my book is good. I know it is (despite all that radio silence from all those review copies I’ve never heard about again).

The best reviews, to me, might be lukewarm. They might be full of criticism about what’s wrong, not working, or a total turn-off. Doesn’t sound like that would be classified as a BEST review, but for me, it is. Maybe it’s the years I spent in creative writing workshops in college and graduate school, but for me, this sort of constructive criticism is a charge. It revs up my creative juices — and certainly twists the knife in that sort spot called my competitive side.

The best reviews help me see where I’ve gone wrong. What I can do better. What I’m doing right and need to trust.

Now, this doesn’t mean you should smear my books in an attempt to get out of me the potential that you see. Nor does it mean you should cross that delicate line between being professional in your review and making personal attacks on me.

What it means is that for me, every time I send off a copy for a review, I’m hoping to gain some insight that’ll sell books — but mostly that’ll help me write better books.

Even if you’re sitting here thinking you’re not a professional reviewer and you have no business writing book reviews, I’m encouraging you to give it a stab. Go on. Write down your thoughts about my books. Post them at Amazon, GoodReads, Smashwords, or on your blog. If I can, I’ll link back to it — which means I’ll read it.

And I’ll think about what you say. The hows and whys of your perspective. I’ll carry that into my current projects (yep, more than one. And you ask why I’m spread too thin?) and hopefully it’ll seep into my subconscious the way all those lessons in college and grad school did.

Go on. Charge my creative engines. I dare you.

I know. When we talk about my books, it’s usually Trevor we talk about. Heck, we’ve even called it the TREVolution, and not just because the Mitchell-lution sounds wrong.

BUT… my friend, fellow author Stacy Juba, invited ShapeShifter’s REAL main man to participate in her Sink or Swim competition. Now, we all know if this was real — or as real as fiction can get — Mitchell would growl at every last person on this reality TV show of Stacy’s and wind up the winner through sheer intimidation.

Mitchell needs YOUR help, though. Nope, nothing to buy (although I could really use the royalties, folks!). You don’t even have to enter to win the e-books. (Which is good ’cause I know you guys all have them already. If not, see what’s inside the parentheses above.)

Please. Leave a comment. The top three winners in Stacy’s game here will be determined by comments. That means Mitchell needs YOU and YOUR comments in order to win. It’s out of his hands. Go on. Here’s the link again, in fact.

Then stop in at Bitsy Bling Books and check out the lovely feature Charlie Courtland did about me and, especially, the books (because without the books, I am NOTHING. And pleased to have it that way.). This is even easier; just go look. Say hi so Charlie knows you were there, but … no obligations. Just make her stat counter dance, will ya?

I think that’s it for now… I’ve got some fiction coming up for you… stay tuned…

It began innocently enough, as the most disturbing things tend to do. I caught a Tweet from a pretty prominent local blogger. Seems she was rattled by her daughter singing sexually explicit lyrics.

Her daughter just turned 5.

I Tweeted back, “That’s why we listen to Metallica in my house. It’s not terribly sexual.”

I gotta admit, I find the Load twins to be nothing but fertility symbols, packed with innuendo, but it’s quite possible I’m the only one who views those albums that way. Most people are too busy groaning over the worst period in Metallica’s musical history; I doubt they’re looking at the snakes and the keys buried deep in you to get hit over the head.

This local blogger chick’s response raised my normally too-low blood pressure to something that might have been dangerous. “I’ll take the innuendo over singing about death, kyhxbai,” she Tweeted.

My first response was, “Then why the fuck are you bitching about your daughter parroting it back to you?”

My second response was, “Didn’t you basically just tell me to fuck off and (yes) DIE?”

My third response was more measured. It’s the one I went with. “Listen more closely.”

She didn’t respond. I’m not surprised. Know why?

Although my all-time favorite band has put out a reported 125 songs over the years (including their covers and soundtrack work), only 17 (maybe 14? I can’t find the number online) don’t contain some form of the word death. Thus, it’s not hard to look at the band and make a blanket statement.

However, this is Metallica we’re talking about. Believe it or not, they’re pretty subtle — lyrically, at least. That’s because it’s James who writes the lyrics, not Lars. He ain’t very subtle, our favorite Danish drummer. Which is why we love him.

Shut up. We love Lars.

Anyway, yeah. On the surface, you see a band mention death or dying this many times and you’re all ready to lump them with some Satanic cult or something.

This is why learning a thing or two before you open your mouth is a good thing. Look, for instance, at many people’s favorite Metallica song, Enter Sandman. Know where the word die appears? In the bridge (that’s a musical term, folks). Which, in this song, includes the 18th century children’s prayer, Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.

Yep. Not something I want my kids singing about, either. God forbid they get a prayer in with their music. (An aside: there is a branch of the Kabbalah that assigns a numeric value for each letter in a word. Add ’em up and you’ve got a meaning. The Hebrew words for prayer and song mean the same thing. So, yeah. God forbid kids get a prayer in with their music.)

Want more religion? Try Creeping DEATH. It’s a song all about the Jews’ Exodus from Egypt. You know: Pharoah, the parting of the Red Sea, Moses, Charlton Heston…

Yep. Sexual innuendo is SO much better than Bible stories.

Okay, so that’s only two examples. Didn’t I say this band had 125 songs attached to their name? Maybe I’m blowing things out of proportion.

Or am I?

Sanitarium and One are both based on books (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and Johnny Got His Gun, respectively). The Call of Ktulu is based on the famed HP Lovecraft story (No one said James was a stellar speller!).

The God that Failed (oh, no! More religion from our band that’s all about death! Save us from a fiery hell!) is about James’ Christian Scientist upbringing.

Even famed classic songs For Whom the Bell Tolls and Disposable Heroes are about way more than death and dying. They are wonderful anti-war songs. In fact, some say the overriding theme of the Master of Puppets album is anti-war. That doesn’t explain the song Master of Puppets, itself, though. That’s possibly the most famous anti-drug song of all time. Again, we can’t have our kids singing anti-drug songs. Nope. Might warp them for life.

Offhand, the only Metallica song I can think of that’s totally about death is Ride the Lightning, and even that’s more a meditation from the condemned prisoner. It’s a story. And you know what? That’s not even one of their more popular songs. Commercial radio won’t touch it (although satellite does. On certain stations.).

Okay, so I’m only talking about the old stuff. Know why? The newer music is way more introspective, more open to interpretations. James never explains a lot of what he’s thinking during his lyric-writing process, leading such Internet fan sites as the Insanity Palace of Metallica (IPOM) to have an entire section devoted to lyric theories.

Yet even songs like the much-maligned St. Anger (a song I personally find very sensuous in spots, albeit utterly lacking in sexual innuendo) can be pretty easily interpreted. It’s about anger. It’s about wearing it, owning it, being controlled by it.

Lotsa death there, huh?

Or from DEATH Magnetic: Unforgiven III (why am I making examples of the songs people make fun of?) is a meditation on a path to fame. I think. Broken, Beat, and Scarred is more clear-cut. It’s about overcoming adversity. The Day that Never Comes? Getting out of an abusive relationship.

Go on. Tell me how this is so much worse for our children than sexual innuendo. Tell me how power, how thinking things through, how finding your strength are concepts you don’t want your children singing about. Tell me how these songs are all about death.

I sure don’t see it. I see strength, I see energy, I see owning your power. I think back to sitting in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductions and hearing James Hetfield say, “Dream big, and dare to fail.”

THAT is what Metallica is about, boys and girls.

It’s so much bigger than death.

But if that’s all you can focus on… well, you just keep cringing as your pre-tween gets her sex on in the back seat of your car. It’s not like you can’t change the radio station. It’s not like you can’t teach your kid that a song is about more than a commonly-repeated word.

Oh, wait. Maybe you really can’t.

ETA: I forgot to mention this one! I’m over at Quackers and Tease today, giving away a free download of Trevor’s Song. Even if you’ve already got a copy, why not help spread the word? My royalty statements will thank you!

To celebrate Groundhog Day and Punxy Phil not seeing his shadow (guess those vibes I sent as we drove home from our sledding weekend took hold), Lulu is offering a 20% off sale today (the second) and tomorrow (the third) only.

Here’s the link to my Lulu page. If you’re an author with a Lulu page, link it up in the comments and I’ll include it here.

If you’re a reader who still loves the print (versus the e-book), go! Buy! Have at it!

Use coupon code NOSHADOW305.

Check out these authors and add ’em to your shopping cart:
Paul Mansfield Keefe
My good friend Maria Savva

You long-time, die-hard groupies may recall my visit to Yellowstone National Park in 2007-8. It was over New Year’s; I packed into three or four layers (I think four) and traipsed out to Old Faithful to watch the last eruption of 2007. We toasted the old lady with champagne. Part of my heart broke that night; I feel such a pull to that area. If there was a way for me to pick up and write about my rock stars from that part of the world, I’d be there in a heartbeat.

I’d link to those old posts but it turns out that when we fled Blogger for WordPress, the pictures got lost and the posts are all messed up. I’ll ask the Tour Manager to fix them, or — better yet — show me how.

Keeping my passion for the place alive and burning is Beth Pratt. I’m not sure what this woman does, but she’s living in Yellowstone. I, of course, am harboring an incredible jealousy for her. And a desire to be her friend and sit at her knee and hear about her adventures. I want to learn from her. Hell, I think I want to BE her.

Lucky me ’cause she’s got a great blog: Beth’s Excellent Adventures: Life In Yellowstone. I’ve been following it for awhile now and I eat up the amazing pictures she gets and her strong but sensible words.

She’s also into conservation and giving back, joining with Harrison Ford and Conservation International. She was doing a fundraiser with them, but it seems to have ended January 31. Which was yesterday. Ugh! I hate being late to a party.

You guys know I like to give away a part of my royalties to charities. Maybe, at some point down the road, I’ll do another one (right now, I gotta make some bucks to cover my overhead!) and include Conservation International. It’s too early to tell; I’ve got other irons in the fire and I’m still trying to bring you guys some new books — and some other stuff, too.

Lots going on over here… lots of changes about to happen. I did a Tarot card reading the other day and drew the Death card as my outcome card. I was totally not surprised. Let’s hope whatever ends is the bad stuff and whatever begins is amazingly good…

Yellowstone, take me away…

I’ve been all over Facebook and Twitter with this one; can’t believe I forgot to tell you guys, as well. (which is why you ought to be following me in both spots!)

Author Thea Atkinson runs a cool site called GonzoInk. One of the fun things she does every month is called Rate Me Some. She posts three book blurbs. No author names. No cover art. Just words. You vote on the one you like and one lucky person who leaves a comment will win a copy of the book that gets the most votes. (e-book only, I’m afraid. Maybe an author will kick in a print copy down the road? Hmm. Not a bad idea!)

Now, I am NOT telling you this because Trevor’s Song is one of the three books being blurbed this month. Or because so far, there’s only one comment, which makes it sort of a slam-dunk for Thea to pick her winner.

Nope. I’m telling you this because I think it is SUCH a cool concept. I hope you’ll all play along each month, whether or not my books are being featured. I hope you’ll help make this a success.

And in the meantime, if you’re in need of an e-book copy of Trevor’s Song, go vote. And leave a comment, too. The chances of you winning it are pretty darn good.

Although, the royalties from your purchase are also pretty darn good. Ya know?

I’ve had this tab open in Firefox for awhile now. It’s news from Blabbermouth that Tim “Ripper” Owens, he who inspired Jennifer Aniston and Mark Wahlberg movies, has re-opened what was called Tap House and is now Ripper Owens Tap House.

This is one of those rare times when I can actually do more than dream about going to this place. You see, it’s in Akron, which is only a couple of hours’ drive from Chez West of Mars. They are boasting about a family-friendly menu (darn it. Guess there goes any shot I had of going without the kids) and being able to handle high-volume times of day. They also book national and local acts, as well.

My kind of place. Despite not being able to dump my kids for a few hours. I mean, I LIKE my kids and all and they’re at cool ages. But… being without them for a bit is always a good thing. Otherwise, when they leave the nest, will I know how to act?

Anyone who’s up for a weekend road trip to Akron, let me know and we’ll see what we can work out. That’d be a WAY cool meeting place, no?

Ever wondered how real my fictional world is?

Me, too, sometimes. After all, I (thankfully) didn’t marry a rock star. My creation of Mitchell, Kerri, and Trevor was mostly my attempt to humanize people we put up on a pedestal.

Now, the E! Entertainment Network is showing us a glimpse of the real thing. It’s called Married to Rock, and it follows four very svelte women. Three are married to their stars. One is MERELY a girlfriend. I hope she sticks to her guns; from the first episode I saw, I could see danger signs in the relationship. Like I’m some expert… but that’s my point. If *I* can see danger, you know it’s there.

Anyway, the first episode I saw was the one where Susan Holmes McKagan (Hey, nice first name!) went out with the other women and got a bit toasty. And lost her house keys. ‘Cause, you know, she’s toasty.

She’s concerned Duff is asleep, and she doesn’t want to wake him. Which, really, is quite considerate. She decides to see if any windows are open. She’ll get in that way.

Sure enough, the bathroom windows are open. Susan begins to climb through.

This is where I paused my TiVo and let myself envision the scene as *I* would write it. (and we’ll ignore the fact that Mitchell and Kerri’s house is laid out much differently and has no bathroom window to crawl through.) I’d have Kerri crawl through that window and look up, only to find Mitchell leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in a tolerant look that plainly said she was busted — and would need a few years to live this one down.

I pushed play.

And what happens? Duff comes into the bathroom, very awake, a questioning but amused look on his face, and helps his wife climb through the window.

That alone was enough to hook me on the show, but I have to admit to being somewhat fascinated with Etty Farrell. I think there’s a worldliness to her, a wisdom, that’s going to allow her to really be the star of this show. As the show unfolds, we’ll be able to see if I’m right or wrong.

In the meantime, I’ll keep watching and checking to see how much more of my fictional world comes true on the small screen…

In the past, when I’ve done a Musical Hanukkah wrap-up post, I’ve let Chelle handle it. Since I took the fun into the real world, I figured Chelle had no business reporting on how well (or poorly, depending on your point of view) we all chipped in to do.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m disappointed. I was hoping to do better. Now, I have to keep in mind that November and December turned into a couple of rough months for me. Most of you know I lost my cat, Chanterelle, in mid-November. One post can’t sum up the brain freeze THAT saga inspired. And now that I have an only cat, things on the feline front are getting more frustrating — I’d like to be a foster parent for awhile, but while the shelter I’d like to work with has a great woman heading up the fostering program, the head of volunteering hasn’t been quite so friendly. In fact, he’s been downright hostile, refusing to reassure me I’m in the system and will get the e-mail telling me when and how to sign up for the first of the volunteer orientations I must take. Needless to say, I’m frustrated. So’s Cooper. He’s lonely, and guess who has become his replacement family member?

It ain’t the stuffed grizzly bear the kids gave him.

The cat NEEDS a feline friend. I am not a feline. Period.

There were some other things holding me back, as well. Personal stuff. It really ought to stay that way.

This means I didn’t get to promote the Musical Hanukkah Celebration nearly as much as I’d intended to. And… it shows.

In the two months I was counting royalties for my charity donation, I sold a total of 44 books, spread out over the three titles. There were no sales reported for the Apple bookstore, B&N, Sony, or Kobo or Diesel. Thus, these numbers are restricted to Smashwords, Lulu, and Kindle.

We have to immediately erase the 7 books I sold at my local temple, during a signing. I told the temple I’d donate part of my royalties from that back to them, since they are a charitable organization.

Now we’re down to 37 books. Which isn’t bad, given how little promotion I wound up doing (oddly, most of my previous promotional jaunt happened in October!). Nice, big, fat donation, here I come!

But… 24 of those books came from Smashwords. And of them, 20 were freebies — copies of Trevor’s Song I handed out for reviews, downloads from the Troops as part of Operation e-Book Drop.

So I am making a donation based on the royalties for 13 books. Ouch. That’s not much more than I sold in the Kindle store in the entire month of December.

All told, the royalties I brought in came to $34.35. I’d pledged at least 50% — the more money I brought in and the more of my year’s expenses that were covered was going to up that percentage — and that leaves me with a donation of $17.25. About the same as I raised in three weeks in January for the Red Cross.

Yeah, I wish it had been more. Hopefully the momentum ball will roll faster in 2011. I’m aiming to give you TWO books and hopefully some 99c shorts (Anyone want to do me a cover or two?). And I’ve finished three interviews this week alone — and a fourth popped into my inbox this morning.

Now, before I sign off with pleas for you to post reviews of my books (good OR bad) and tell others to buy them, let me remind you that the page for direct donations is still up, if you’ve got some extra change you’d like to throw toward the Mr. Holland’s Opus Foundation. Tomorrow’s Band Geek or Orchestra Dweeb thanks you. And so do I.

Since only one of you took me up on my offer to win a free book if you made a direct donation, Shaunie gets a copy of Thomma Lyn Grindstaff‘s Mirror Blue.

Why that one, and not one of the others? Well, because Thomma Lyn, being optimistic that there would be a million and one donations, sent me a copy. It’s here at my right elbow, so as much as it pains me to not read it, I’ll be sending that one on.

Now. I’m off to write a book. Or edit a book. Or something book related so that when next year comes and we do it again, we can donate a bigger chunk of change.

If you’d asked me how I thought I was doing in conquering the TBR mountain range in my office, I’d have told you I was failing. After all, the stack behind my desk of series and rock books has grown to new, scary heights. It has become a new Western peak in the TBR mountain range. Surely this was my worst year for reading since before I started keeping track.

Yet the Eastern Peaks have shrunk. Those are my mass market books, stacked four deep and with two columns bookending (ha) the area that’s four deep.

There’s even been movement in the Southern Ranges (those on the floor, under my desk). Of course, deciding I wasn’t going to finish the first Cirque du Freak book immediately took 11 off my stacks…

Also shrinking was the Eastern side of the Northern range. Those are the hardbacks and trade paperbacks. If I’m dedicated, I might be able to decimate the farthest Western Peak of the Northern range; right now, it consists of 22 books. Surely I can read 22 books in 2011?

Sure I can. To my surprise, I read 93 books in 2010. That might go up by one, if I finish the book by my old professor and mentor Reginald McKnight, He Sleeps. We’ll see. (I didn’t, but did finish Erle Stanley Gardner’s The Case of the Fenced-in Woman.) This is the most I’ve read since 2007, when I read 97 books. So close to 100 that year!

Not bad, considering all the fiction I’ve been working on. (Even though I only got one book out this year. I’m aiming for 2 in 2011, so you know. Hold me to that, okay?)

So here’s the highlights:
I bookended the year with indie reads: Sue Lange’s great Uncategorized and Darcia Helle‘s Enemies and Playmates. Very good, that last one. Darcia’s got some serious chops, so be sure to look both of these women up.

I revisited old literary friends who had series new and old: Jennifer Estep, Robin Hobb, Rachel Vincent, Kathy Reichs, Charlaine Harris, Linda Fairstein, Jonathan Kellerman.

I checked out writers I’ve been meaning to read: JR Ward — yes, I finally began to experience the Brotherhood! And Lisa Kleypas, who is every bit as good as people say she is.

I read books by authors I know online but hadn’t read yet: Anya Bast, TJ Bennett’s The Promise. Loved ’em both. Same for Rebecca Cantrell’s debut, A Trace of Smoke. And then there’s Mitchell James Kaplan, whose By Water, By Fire is brilliant — and who came in person to book club and sat in my own living room to chat with us.

Don’t forget CJ Lyons, who asked me to read some books she’d put up on Smashwords. Really, people, if you are a fan of CJ (and if you’re not yet, you should be), get these. They are great fun! Total formula, but I’m a fan of formula (which makes this a compliment). And CJ handles it really really well.

Some literary gems: Diane Smith’s Letters from Yellowstone. I adored this book, even though when I read Janet Fox’s debut, Faithful, I saw similarities in the plots of the two.

Of course, there are the staples of my life: rock and roll. Joe Meno’s Hairstyles of the Damned could have been the first stand-out of the year, but I happened to read Brian Francis’ The Secret Fruit of Peter Paddington too close together for two books with a lot of similarities. So we’ll call the first standout What the Librarian Did, by Karina Bliss. I read a lot of rock books this year (19 of 93!), but only a few were standouts. RJ McDonnell comes immediately to mind; I read both of his books this year (Rock and Roll Homicide and Rock and Roll Ripoff). Why isn’t RJ on Smashwords? If you use Smashwords, drop him a note and tell him you want to see his books listed there.

Rachel Cohn hit it with Pop Princess. So did Sarra Manning with Guitar Girl. It’s pretty sad that the young adult rock and roll fiction is better than the adult stuff. I mean, hello? MTV generation. What happened us??

Melody Lane to the rescue, with Lex Valentine coming close.

Three Cups of Tea left me aching for more books to sell and more royalties to donate to charity. It was only one of an unusual number of non-fiction for me. Included on this list is Jim Lindberg’s Punk Rock Dad, Mark Kurzem’s The Mascot, and Helen Epstein’s classic, Children of the Holocaust. Don’t forget Joel McIver’s To Live is to Die.

In an unusual move for me, we read a lot of Holocaust lit — both with my book club and me, myself, on my own. Book club read Those Who Save us (Jenna Blum) and The Diplomat’s Wife (Pam Jenoff), and you can see some other titles above (Rebecca Cantrell, Mark Kurzem, Helen Epstein), Tatiana de Rosnay’s Sarah’s Key, which was fascinating if not as shocking as I’d heard.

Mary Sharratt is an author who I’d only experienced once before. I LOVED Daughters of the Witching Hill. A definite stand-out; I still think about quite a bit of it.

Of the 93 books I read, I didn’t finish 22 of them. I don’t make myself finish anything I don’t like. Not when I’ve got mountain ranges sitting here beside me, taunting me with their very presence…

On to 2011. I encourage you guys to pick up any books by the authors I’ve mentioned here. If there’s no title and you’d like a suggestion, let me know. And feel free to leave some of your top picks in the comments. You know I love comments!

**Just a reminder to go on and use these links on the book titles to click through and buy stuff. You’ll get either Powells or Smashwords unless I tell you otherwise. (Links on author names take you to author websites.) I’ll make a few pennies, and those pennies help support this joint. Or will be turned into a giveaway for you guys. Whatever I’m in the mood for.

My friend Alice Audrey used Trevor’s Song as her Tuesday Teaser this week. The Teaser is a meme where you post a few lines from the book you’re reading — or, in Alice’s case, have finished but want to spotlight. Alice has been kind enough to feature me twice. (here’s the link to the original one.)
Interestingly, my friend Shaunie did the same thing, back in October. Twice, even.

Yesterday’s teaser from Alice was one of my favorites — and given how many favorites I have in that book (like both of the ones Shaunie picked. And Alice’s first. And…), it’s not surprising. It’s from page 147 in her edition (it’s on like 199 or 213 in my print copies; weird.), and it’s the part where Trevor is saying things don’t bother him. His sarcasm (I hope) drips off the page. So does his pain.

Because it was taken out of context, one person who left a comment said, ” I wonder if he’s the silent suffering type… maybe the music is where he vents out his frustrations.”

Alice initially laughed, then became intrigued by the question.

So allow me to answer it. Since I am, after all, the creator of the indomitable Trevor Wolff.

If Trevor were Mitchell, sure, he’d communicate through his music. Mitchell does it constantly. If you listen closely enough, he speaks through his music. Thankfully, Kerri is quite good at hearing what he’s saying. But… who better to understand a man than his own wife?

Trevor, though… Trevor’s a horrible musician. He’s also not terribly great at communication. After all, he grew up in a household of fear. He grew up needing to hide certain things from the world, and wishing he could hide other things — the perpetual black eyes, the broken noses. Those sorts of things spoke for him, and they aren’t exactly the sort of thing most people want to be around.

In short, if Trevor weren’t so charismatic, he’d be a loser. His only talent is for getting away with things the rest of us can’t. He stirs the pot, and he does it well. He can bluff his way through almost anything… until you hand him a bass guitar.

In my fictional world, it’s a well-kept secret that Mitchell is actually the guy playing bass on the band’s music. Even Trevor doesn’t fully grasp the full extent of Mitchell’s late-night replacement sessions, and Trevor’s a pretty perceptive guy — even when, like in the teaser Alice posted, he’s pretending not to be.

***
In the comment trail, Alice said something else that intrigued me. She said, “The kinds of things that bother Trevor would terrify the rest of us. Not that he’s some big bad vampire or SEAL or anything. Just that his perspective on life is filtered through a different lens.”

It’s that first sentence that gets me. The things that bother Trevor would terrify the rest of us.

This is hard for me to comment on. I’ve never had to face most of the things Trevor has to. Some of it is terrifying when I think about it, yes. But when I’ve been in the moment, holding my breath over a diagnosis or watching a door be closed and arms folded over a chest, there hasn’t been time to be terrified. Only to deal with what’s being laid at my feet as calmly and coolly as possible. There’s no room for terror and then later, when you look back and reflect, you realize how stupid it is to get terrified now, when things are over and done with.

That’s Trevor. I guess it’s also me.

At any rate, Alice has picked up on this approach Trevor and I share. In some ways, because we met via our blogs and because she’s read all I’ve made public that features Trevor, she knows him as well as anyone and I shouldn’t be surprised by her insights.

Yet, I am.

Maybe this is a writer thing. We face so many rejections, so many reviews where the reader misses points that we (and our beta readers and the others who help bring our books to live) thought were obvious. In a sense, we are continually set up for not only rejection, but complete miscommunication. We expect that slap-down, the negativity.

Thus, someone who gets it so utterly is cause for celebration. And that’s what I’m doing here. Celebrating, and hoping you’ll join me. Alice gets Trevor. I know a lot of you regulars do.

Those of you who’ve been supporting this year’s Musical Hanukkah Celebration get a huge vote of thanks from me. It’s been a crummy two months, as I said in an earlier post. I haven’t been able to shout about this from the rooftops the way I’d intended.

However, many of you have done it for me. You’ve helped with Tweets over on Twitter. You’ve shown me new ways to expand my audience. You’ve pointed out places I can devote some time that’ll pay off for me nicely. You’ve made posts on your own blogs, on Facebook… you’ve donated directly to the Mr. Holland’s Opus Foundation, and you’ve given gifts of my three books — to yourselves and to friends.

You’re not only helping me, you’re helping other kids, who may grow up to be like Trevor. Only, hopefully, they’ll be better musicians.

(PS — you still here? Stay tuned for some final fiction from the Musical Hanukkah Celebration. And a new game in the new year that’ll help us all meet some fun new people. I hope you’ll plan to play along!)