Really?

I got an email from a writing acquaintance bemoaning the fact that no one comments on her blog and what could she do about it? These are my thoughts – if people want to comment they will, if they don’t then they won’t. Pretty simple. There is no rule that says that if you read a blog you must comment. Comments are great but I don’t expect people to write a note if they have no thoughts on what I have written. I don’t agonize if I get no responses one day and 12 the next. I tend to think if that’s all you have to worry about you are doing pretty well in life. But that’s just me.

And lets face it sometimes it is damn hard to make a comment on a blog. It quite fascinates me when I read the amount of personal details some people give on their blogs. I am a private person by nature. What I write about on a blog is silly inconsequential stuff that happens but it is only a very small part of my life. I know you lot are smart enough to realize that and I know you would not expect me to tell you personal details. That would be crazy right? But of late the stuff people write about on blogs is alarming to me and in some cases bores me to tears – but again - this is

all subjective. This is Amarinda opinion only. What bores me will fascinate someone else. To me a blog is like an online diary. It’s also a useful tool for a writer as it keeps readers aware of your books and other people’s books I put on the blog. But in saying it’s a diary – I personally don’t want to know everything you ate in a day or how many miles you drove to in order to have the cat/dog/guinea pig vaccinated or what TV shows you watched. That’s just me. I find blogs like that hard to comment on. Also, another Amarinda peeve, if you announce on a blog you’re going to give hard hitting opinion and you don’t, then why bother announcing the ‘opinion’ thing at all? What is the point of that? I love controversial blog sites – but will I always comment on them? No, because some blogs are best not to have your name attached to unless you personally feel strongly about an issue and you know the consequences of putting your two cents forward. Is that cowardly or sheer smarts? I tend to think the latter.

So – feel free to give your opinions on blogs or not…up to you. What topics on blogs drive you to the point of boredom? What interests you? Who would you just like to tell to shut up? Yes, you can tell me to shut up if you want – I have a thick skin.

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Dreaming….

I had this dream last night at 2am and I stumbled out of bed and wrote down some notes because at 2am it seemed like a fabulous idea for a book. Here are the main points I jotted down

– art deco
- auburn haired man
- rowing machine
- Prince Charles
- glass light shade

- dusty room
- flying bat

- oranges

- carpet

- Cigarettes

Yes – quite the novel in that. What does all that mean? Stuffed if I know. And Prince Charles for god sake? I am dead set anti royalist so I have no idea why he would come to my mind. The man is a drain on society. So I’m thinking my heroine will buy a glass light shade from an auburn haired man who sells art deco, in between eats oranges and smoking cigarettes. A bat will fly into the dusty store and its wing span will remind the heroine of the size of Prince Chicka’s ears and it will perch on the rowing machine in the store. Yes…I can see that as WIP. My editor is now smacking her head on her keyboard.

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“Teach Me (The Hierophant)” A Torrid Tarot Novel By Cindy Spencer Pape. It's available now at Ellora’s Cave – it’s another click on the cover and buy moment. I love the word Hierophant - I'd buy it for that word alone.

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Blurb:

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The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.

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Excerpt:

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“I’m not young enough to be your daughter you know. Not unless you’d started awfully early.”
He stared at the painting on the wall opposite the bed for a moment, swirling the wine in his glass before he answered. “Intellectually I’m aware of that. I guess I’ve just spent way too long laughing at middle-aged guys who go out trolling for younger women. And it isn’t just your age, you know. I’m—dealing with that. It’s everything about you, Lydia. You’re so beautiful, so dynamic, so full of life. I’m well aware of the fact that I’m not the most exciting guy in the world. Boring is usually one of the nicer things I get called—my ex-wife could have gone on about that one for hours. There’s a big part of me that still has no idea what someone like you sees in someone like me.”
Lydia laughed. “Galen, I can see a mirror right over there on the dresser. Learn to use it. You’re tall, you’re fit, you have gorgeous hair and the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Whereas I’m medium height, thirty pounds overweight and pretty much average by almost any standard. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Medium pale skin. If we’re talking about physical appearance, you’re way out of my league. But when you look at me—then I do feel beautiful. And do I need to point out the absurdity of the words boring and handcuffs coming out of your mouth in the same five minutes? Aside from being almost scarily smart, you’ve got a wicked sense of humor and you’re inventive as hell in bed. What on Earth makes you think you’re boring?”
“Well, not too many people know about the handcuffs,” he admitted with a chuckle. “It doesn’t really go with the scholarly image.”
She shrugged. “The combination works for me. How many guys I’ve dated do you think can put up with me getting lost in a manuscript or history book for hours on end? Or understand that being a bit submissive in the bedroom doesn’t mean I don’t have a mind of my own?”

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As always check Anny on http://www.annycook.blogspot.com/ and Kelly on http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ to see what’s going on in their worlds

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www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Give me strength…

Someone asked me this morning – Sunday – early – what I really wanted out of life. You have to arrive on my doorstop and need to know this now? Really? Before my third cup of coffee? Yes, apparently so. No, it doesn’t matter who it was other than they were insane and seemingly felt they had to prove some point to me when I really just wanted to do some writing. And to be honest I can live without points being proved to me but apparently there is some lesson I have to learn…oh hard…and on a Sunday? When I’m busy? So I said the usual things – I want an endless supply of money, chocolate and for you to nick off.

-Typically flippant answers from you Amarinda.
-Well, how about you leave me alone so I can get a couple of K done? (K = 1000 words in writer speak)

This is apparently not a serious answer either. It’s pretty bloody serious to me. And world peace, the end to starvation and man’s inhumanity to man are not acceptable answers either. Give me strength.

-Why are you here again?
-Because you like me.
-Maybe I just felt sorry for you – like some stray dog
-Whatever you choose to believe, Amarinda.

I choose to believe a great deal and I don’t want to be dealing with annoying people in my own time. I turned the question back on my interrogator.

-What do you want out of life?
-I want you to answer the question
-Ah, a man of simple, if not delusional means
-Yes – so answer the question and quit stalling.
-What does it matter?
-It matters

Well crap…I don’t like being put on the spot when it comes to deep and meaningful things. Why do people have to do that? I like to keep things to myself. Sure, I have a blog and people read it and my books - and you can glean from my scribblings the general direction my mind is headed in but you don’t need to know everything about me as I don’t need to know everything about you.

-So?
-What?
-God you’re perverse Amarinda
-And?
-You’re annoying
-Thank you, I try.

The thing is I think we need to keep some things a mystery. What do you think? Do your nearest and dearest know everything about you? Or are you open to sharing all with virtually complete strangers like Mr X who lob in on your doorstep asking questions? Did I answer his question? Nope - because I don’t want to. Will he ask again? Probably. Will he be frustrated again? Most likely. Will I annoy him? Undoubtedly. Will he bugger off and leave me alone? Definitely.


-So, I suppose you’ll be immersed in writing today
-Yep
-And you’ll probably write about this on your blog
-I wasn’t going to but now I will and hopefully you'll get the hint.
-I want to see you again, Amarinda
-Wasn’t this time enough?

Yes, why indeed would he bother? I have no idea. I’m not looking for a relationship so it’s a waste of his time. I am very clear on that .You should let people know where they stand. I’m too jaded and cynical and I like the sloppy status quo I find myself in. And, as for what I want out of life? That changes on a daily basis.

Just for you…..

….. author Cindy Spencer Pape gave in to my badgering and sent me an excerpt from her hot, brand new release – Teach Me (The Hierophant) – it’s a Torrid Tarot novel out now through Ellora’s Cave…click on the cover to buy

Teach Me – Blurb

The Hierophant generally appears in life in the form of a teacher or mentor. He’s wise but can be stubborn to the point of disaster, especially if his beliefs are called into question. Galen Forsythe believes the traditions and tenets of academia to be an almost sacred trust. So when he is hopelessly attracted to a brilliant young graduate student, he fights against it for three long years. Lydia has been in love with Galen, her Hierophant, from day one. When she’s targeted by an ancient demon determined to escape its prison, Galen has to learn to let go of logic and tradition and trust in the power of love to save her.

Teach Me- Excerpt

Galen ran his hand through the silky strands of her hair, carefully disentangling the now useless rubber band that had bound it into a tail.

A ponytail. Oh, gods, she was so young. Young enough to be his daughter! What the hell had he just done?

“You’re thinking too much.” Her voice was still soft and sweet but the wry humor he’d been so drawn to in class was back, even though her eyes were still closed.

“Lydia—I—this…” He had no earthly idea what to say.

“Don’t. Please don’t ruin this.” Her voice cracked.

Not the tears again. He could handle anything but those. If she cried again, he’d end up taking her home and locking her up in his house where no one else would ever have the chance to hurt her again. And he couldn’t, just couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

He pulled her to her feet, to stand in the vee between his legs, then he hugged her close to his chest.

“Nothing could ruin this. What just happened will always be one of the most beautiful memories of my life.”

“But?” He could tell by her sigh that she knew what was coming next and was as resigned to it as he was.

“But you know as well as I do that it can never happen again.”

He felt her nod against his shoulder. “I understand.”

“Just so you know…” He had to fight past the lump in his throat to get the rest of the words out. “What I told you about—helping you find a job, an apartment—none of that had anything at all to do with this.”

“I know that.” Her voice hitched but she soldiered on. “And for the record, if I had thought that, even for a second, then it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Okay then.” He patted her back and dropped his hands so she could step away. Neither of them made any attempt at eye contact as they righted their clothing and Lydia combed her fingers through her hair.

“Right.” She nodded her head and squared her shoulders before picking her exam paper up off his desk. She unzipped her backpack and shoved it inside. “I’ll have this in your mailbox by tomorrow morning, if that’s all right.”

Hell, like it mattered. With one word she could destroy his entire career. Not that he thought she would. “Fine.”

She turned to go, pausing with her hand on the door. “Can I say one more thing, Professor?”

He tried to laugh but the sound was shaky and hoarse. “Go ahead. But I think I’d feel a whole lot better if you called me Galen while you said it.”

Her laugh didn’t sound any too steady either. “Fair enough. Galen then. I just wanted you to know that what just happened—it wasn’t out of the blue. I’m twenty-nine, not seventeen. Old enough to know what I’m doing. I’ve been wanting you for a very long time. So—thank you.”

Anny is racing turtles for profit on www.annycook.blogspot.com/ and Kelly is painting beards on cement gnomes on www.kkirch.blogspot.com/. Also the March issue of www.emuse-zine.com/index.html is now out. What is it? You don’t know? Rush over there now and take a squiz.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?