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Memories of Drowning and Other Stories

 

So, I’m now an official Indie author.  My book hit the Amazon jungle on Sunday.  I’m not sure how I feel about it, yet.   It’s like taking a little piece of your soul and throwing it up in the air, waiting for somebody to catch it.  And hold it.  And like it, just a little bit.

The silence is what’s awkward.  Not knowing if people will like it and hoping nobody takes it and trashes it into nothingness.   It’s weird, really.  I’ve been flung into the virtual abyss with nothing, not even a life jacket to keep me from going under…scary place, this cyber universe.  But I did it to myself.  I put myself out into the big wide world to see what’s what…no point in turning around and running back home.  Might as well hang out a bit and see who gives me a nod.

So, I’m going to be annoying.  I’m going to make a complete nuisance of myself and be in your face and stare at you until you get all uncomfortable and move around in your chair looking for the nearest exit.  I may even follow you to the door…but I’ll be out here a while, so send me back a coffee or a donut or even a warm blankie, will ‘ya?

It’s a bit chilly out here…..

I Have No Business Watching the Osmonds or Reading King…Apparently

Please tell me why I just spent ninety minutes watching the Osmonds’ life story? Ugh… I shit you not, that’s exactly what I did for NINETY INANE MINUTES.  How is that even legal?

 My life has reached a point of stagnation that a movie about the Osmonds manages to hold my attention FOR NINEY MINUTES.  I just kept watching and watching.  It was like I couldn’t tear my eyes away and when the Donny and Marie show spirals out of control it was like I was reliving the tragedy “I’m a little bit country” all over again…then they lose 80 million dollars (yeah, 80 million) and then they start a tour again, then Merril faints (oh noooo)  and then suddenly, they’re all grown up and singing on some wanton stage dressed in black, “He’s ma Brother”   The End.  There.

 I just saved you from having to watch that movie. 

You. Are. Welcome.

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

RUN KIDS, RUN!!

In other relevant news, I just finished reading Under the Dome by Mr. King and it was fabulous.  A tad long, but great.  Wonderful.  You all should read it…just kinda flip through some of the non-essential boring stuff…you’ll see what I mean if you get the epic book that could double as the manual for orchestrating world domination with nothing more than a few arm bands and lighter fluid.  AND, written in Japanese…It’s huge and heavy so if you plan on carrying it around with you, don’t.  You’ll end up in the emergency room with back spasms or shoulder issues. They (meaning Steve) should have affixed a warning label on the cover stating the weight of the book may cause damage to your central nervous system if carried long distances.  Or brain issues if you read incessantly for periods of time that you get confused if there’s a dome surrounding your house or if that’s just your cat blocking the windows with her giant fur-clad body. Or when the next case of radiation may spontaneously invade your space that you think you need to run to Walmart to see if they have wayward lead rolls in stock to cover the windows of your car should you choose to drive up to the nearest cliff to see the strange purple flashing light….it’s a King book, remember?

Bigger than the dome

Bigger than the dome

  Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  It’s a two-man lift, …or two-woman lift…or one-man/one-woman lift.  An epic saga in that I-wanna-read-it-all-in-one-sitting-but-I’m-slowly-going-crosseyed-and-what’s-that-strange-idiotic-cat-doing-since-I-don’t-own-a-fucking-cat kinda book.  You get what I’m saying here…IT’S FUCKING HEAVY.   Just to be clear. 

‘Cause that was totally comprehensible…

It’s been a long day.  I need wine.   I could possibly be checking in with you all later this evening if I’m not drunk…or it may be more fun if I am.  Either way. 

Wine.

 

 

 

 

Lovely Car Noises and Bad Book Reads

The episode-that-shall-not-be-named has been hitting the rounds these days.  I’ve got a few people who know what happened and are only too pleased to tease the fuck out of me whenever possible.  It’s fun until someone loses an eye, people.

I recently read a book that I don’t usually read.  Just for kicks.  Have you read this stuff that is hitting the best seller list?  It was a new release by one of those authors that writes a bunch of books in a week and everyone reads them incessantly and the Best seller people decide to bestow the grand title of Best Seller and there’s mad dash to read a bad book…or three.   Gawd, it was like the cliché-monster was roaming around and decided to vomit all over her pages.  WTF was THAT?  The ending was bad…just bad.  If you happen to read it…just don’t.  Don’t waste your precious and valuable time.  Read something else.  Read Fifty Shades if you have to.  Really.  I’m fucking serious.  It wasn’t that it was THAT bad, it was just….kinda sappy and…uncomfortable.  Yeah.  Uncomfortable, that’s how it made me feel.  I didn’t care if the protagonist got her revenge and I didn’t care if the guy she slept with twenty years ago at a random college party and had a secret love child with (and neglected to tell him that little tidbit) and to whom she sent letters to every year for eighteen years ( so as to get some attention and perhaps cash to help raise the child) only to find out she HAD THE WRONG FUCKING ADDRESS!!…I didn’t care if he lived or died.  It just didn’t make me want to read more.  It kinda made me want to suggest an alternate ending.  Or suggest the protagonist find another hobby. Or stick cocktail forks angrily in my eyes.   Hmmm…So now that I’ve told you the ending, wanna read the book?   I should have posted a spoiler alert….

The WRONG Michaels....she is NOT the author I was referring to..

The WRONG Michaels….she is NOT the author I was referring to..

I’ve been wondering where I’ve been getting all these wonderful readers from lately who drop by and sign up or even read a bit.  And comment.  That’s so nice.  Especially since I am feeling a bit lonely out here underconnected and isolated.  How did they find me?  I wonder…

My lovely car is making a lovely rattling noise that nobody seems to know how it got there. Or where it’s coming from.   Further investigation is warranted, but I’m procrastinating.  AND, the bottom part of the bumper now has a permanent split in it where D1 slid into a snow bank.  Thanks for that, by the way.  Really.  It was better than her slamming into the rear of another car and she felt bad about it until I told her it was cracked before anyway…she just helped it along a little by splitting it completely in half.  I bet the tires will give out again soon just to round out my car-asspain-bit.  Awesome.  At least I’ve never run out of gas at an intersection nor have it completely stall out on a highway.  At least I have THAT TO BE THANKFUL FOR!  Yay me!

So, to round out today’s little bit: I’m getting the shit teased out of me for the episode-that-shall-not-be-named, I read a book that was a bit on the shitty side, my lovely car is making a strange lovely noise and I love my readers…thanks for checking in!!

Memories of Book Club

book-club

I was reminded of my book club days today when I was at the book store.  A woman next to me had asked the cashier if a copy of a particular book had arrived that she needed to read for her next club meeting.  It was my lunch hour and I was perusing the aisles searching for a good read.  I found Alice right where I knew she would be.  The last copy of Munro’s ‘Best Stories’ and I headed to the check out right behind book club lady.

I was about to say a few years ago, but really it was almost ten now, we had been relocated to St. Stephen, New Brunswick for what was going to be a short 18mth stint.  A border town, we quickly became used to driving back and forth between New Brunswick and Maine for milk and gas.  I think it’s a bit harder to do that now, but at the time it was no big issue.  The border guards got used to seeing residents go back and forth and knew the reasons for the regular visits even before their customary interrogation.

In order to meet some new people, the wife of the real estate agent we used to secure a house suggested I join her one evening for her book club meeting.  “Do you like reading?”   I explained my expansive collection and she told me the title of their newest read and where to find it.  “See you there.”

I can’t exactly remember the very first meeting, but I do recall it was colorful.  And the women were not what I was expecting.  Two older women in their sixties who were retired teachers and the ‘leaders’ of the group issued the suggested readings for each new book, and were certainly the most astute of our little group.  They took the club very seriously and initiated conversations regarding the characters and the setting, plot analysis usually followed and then we got down to the stuff they were really there to chat about.  The town gossip.  Ugh.  Since I was a newbie, I was quite happy to be isolated from this part of the evening.

Initially, the books were dished out on a biweekly basis, but since the majority of the ladies in the group had full-time employment, the assignment of reading a new book every two weeks and then analyzing it, became a task too great.  The meetings were rescheduled to monthly sessions that surrounded tea drinking and some Polish Princess references too over-the-top even for the die-hard group members.  I was regularly asked my opinion on the assigned books and I hoped I was able to give a somewhat intelligent answer…you know, other than ‘I liked it’.  I can’t remember, but I do remember being asked regarding our next selections.  I usually left that to the die-hards to dish out.  I still had small kids demanding my attention and a new job to contend with.  Searching reads for everyone to get their hands on with one library in town and a book store across the border, it was a bit tough for the ten of us to find the book we needed and have it read before the next meeting.  I did not want to be in charge of that little experience.  The book titles were emailed at the beginning of each month, or if someone was on the ball, by the time the meeting came around we were alerted to the next book for the next meeting.  Somehow, we all managed.

Shortly before we moved I believe book club hit the skids and disbanded.  The Polish Princesses perhaps became too much for the average working woman to contend with.  Maybe the whole analyzing thing took second stage to the gossiping…it happens.  I wonder if the club got back together to read Fifty Shades?  THAT would have been one hell of a series of trash meetings….

Whatever the reason, book club became a blip in my memory until today.  It was enjoyable while it lasted and I was able to read a few interesting reads and be introduced to some new authors that I otherwise may have overlooked.  Some I liked, some I trashed, but for the most part, book club was a positive experience for me.  Polish Princesses and all….