Writing, A Drive-By Signing, and Minor Celebrity

Well, I am still waiting for a contract, but since I'm nearing the halfway mark, I think this is pretty official.

I am writing another Alias book! This one is titled A Touch of Death, and is about a potential pandemic - think avian flu - and isolation, physical and emotional. With the cancellation of the series after this spring's windup, I don't know if there will be any more opportunities, but at least I get to do this one. I am excited about the ideas I'm working with, and writing like mad. (So why am I taking time to post here? Uh, let me think about that ...) The book is due by April 15th, but I am hoping to have a draft by the end of the month.

The first book, Strategic Reserve, just hit the stands. I still need to send out copies to my folks, and my in-laws (Hi, Mott & Jim - I promise to send it soon!), and a copy for a guy my husband knows, who did us a big favor (which I'll get back to in a minute). I didn't know exactly when the book would be in the stores, but I now have a pretty good idea.

See, a couple days ago, I went to the grocery store. Would love to say there were tons o' copies in the Safeway, but there weren't. However, our local indie bookstore (this town is too small for a chain store) is right next door to the grocery. We walked past the book store, and the guy who works there waved at us to come in. When I stepped through the door, he shoved a stack of copies in my hands for me to sign. It was so cool to have someone actually flag me down to sign books - made me feel like a Minor Celebrity. I know I'm not much of a celebrity, but there are some people who make you feel that way.

Steve, and his friend Jeff, are two of those people. When I landed the first Alias book, Steve went looking for a sign that said "Authorized Personnel Only," like the one in the subway on the show. He looked for weeks, and couldn't find anywhere to buy one. This is where Jeff comes in. He has access to a printer that will put images on foamboard. I don't know how it works, but the results are really cool. Steve got to talking to him, and he said he could make a sign. Well, he went all out. It is streaked, just like the one in the series, and there are screws in the corners of the picture. He did it as a favor, and sent it to Steve, who surprised me with it. It's hanging in a place of honor in my office now, reminding me that I can be a Minor Celebrity.

Writing isn't necessarily about being a celebrity. Stephen King, Nora Roberts, J.K. Rowling, John Grisham - they didn't get into this field to be famous. They did it because it is work for which they have a deep passion.

Writers write because we want to tell stories, and have people read them. I hope readers will pick up my books, and enjoy spending time with the people in their pages. The rest doesn't matter.

Life Goes On

A couple days ago, a friend of mine said he feels like he is keeping up with my husband and me by reading our blogs. Even when we don't post very often. So now I feel kind of guilty about how long it's been since I was here.

The last month has been a bit turbulent, though I am beginning to think that's just my life, and I'm kidding myself if I think it is ever going to settle down.

After Banzai died, there was some major adjustment, and we are still getting used to the fact he's gone. Our other cat, the mighty Oz, has become a total attention sponge. He missed his playmate, and we really aren't the best substitutes, but we're all he's got. We are thinking about getting him a kitten to train in his evil, cat ways - like climbing into the rafters and playing with Steve's space collectibles - but we aren't doing anything about that quite yet.

A couple weeks back, we did go to a convention in Pasco, Washington. Radcon is a smallish con, that has been slowly growing out there in the Central Washington desert. They are trying to develop a program track for writing, and their efforts are starting to pay off. We had a wonderful time, got to catch up with a lot of old friends, and meet some new ones. This is one we want to go back to next year. Something we don't always say!

Going over, we stayed the night at the Columbia Gorge Hotel, in Hood River, Oregon. It's an historic hotel, famous for their five-course breakfast. I can now attest that breakfast takes at least ninety minutes, and is worth every second. The scenery is gorgeous, and we took pictures of the half-frozen waterfall outside the dining room after we ate.

I did have to spend a few hours each day tucked away in my hotel room, with my laptop, trying not to fall behind on my writing. More about that on the next rock.

A Piece of my Heart ...

... is missing. It's about the size and shape of a small, furry object with four legs. And it isn't coming back.
Back before Christmas, our little cat, Banzai, got sick. The vet said a liver problem, and gave us drugs and special food, and lots of advice. Over the weeks, we made frequent trips back to the vet's office, and each time we came home with a few new tricks to try.
He was a young cat; he just appeared on our doorstep about three years ago, a tiny kitten in a nasty storm, and informed us that he lived here now.
Banzai was "the belly that walks like a cat." Except when he got sick. Then he simply stopped eating. Anything. About a year ago, we went through this, and somehow managed to coax him back into eating, but only after he lost more than 50% of his body weight. I don't know many animals, or people, who can recover from that, but he did, and he regained all the weight.
This time, we couldn't coax. Even shrimp, the only food for which he would forget the rules and climb on the kitchen counter, didn't tempt him. We tried every kind of food you could imagine, in myriad combinations. Nothing worked.
Cooperation is not a cat trait. When he refused to eat, we tried hand-feeding him. Not a chance. We finally got kitten nursing bottles, thinned down high-calorie supplements with soy milk, and fed him like a baby. Every day, for the last six weeks or so.
But in the end, it wasn't enough. In the early morning hours on Sunday, he suddenly started crying, the way a kitten cries for its mother. My husband and I ran in, and found him in his bed, still crying. We petted him, tried to comfort him, and he laid down. He never got up again.
My husband, all 6-foot-6 of him, laid on the floor, petting Banzai and talking softly to him, until he was gone. It was the bravest thing I could imagine, laying there with the little guy, knowing what will happen, and not turning away, no matter how heart-breaking it was.
Banzai dropped into a coma, then slowly slipped away. It was quiet, and peaceful, and I hope we made it as easy as we could.
But he took part of us with him.
That little piece of my heart.

You can measure friends a lot of ways. One sure way is by how they react when you are in need. When we needed advice that night, we called our friends Dean and Kris, who have a lot more experience with cats than we do. Even though it was 2:30 in the morning, they talked with us, and asked us to call back and check in.
About thirty minutes later, when Banzai slipped away, we called back. The first words out of Dean's mouth were "I'll be right there." And they were.
They helped us wrap him up, and find a spot for him in the yard, providing help and sympathy when we sorely needed both. There are damned few people who you can count on like that, and as tough as this was, it would have been infinitely worse without their help and friendship to get us through.

I am more grateful than I can hope to express, and I realize how lucky we are to have friends like that.

He was a good cat, and I miss him.

Here we go again!

Just like last summer ---

Just got approval for another book, which means it's time for BICHOK (Butt In Chair, Hands On Keyboard) for a few weeks.

I'd say I'll be a little scarce around here, but that wouldn't be any different than any other month, now would it?

In any case, I will try to check in now and again, and post a progress report.

TTFN!

Another Year? Already?

There is an old kid's TV show, Thunderbirds, that my husband introduced me to. One of the many things for which he will be made to answer someday. It's marionettes, and exceedingly strange. There is a scene where one of the characters is in the hospital, and another one enters. The dialogue meanders along, then the visitor says, "They're moving the Empire State Building." And the patient cries in surprise, "What? Today??" For some reason, that was hilarious. The idea that someone forgot that the Empire State Building was being moved.
But the new year has crept up on me, and I feel that same sense of astonishment that it's here already. I knew it was coming. I had things ready. I even remembered to write 2006 on the check I wrote today. But somehow it still doesn't seem possible that 12 months have passed since the last time we did this.

This New Years Day was a study in dissonance, anyway. There was no Rose Parade on January 1, and that has disrupted my ritual for beginning the year. You see, I grew up near Pasadena, and the Rose Parade has been a big deal for me since I was a kid. One year I went with a neighbor whose husband worked at the Marine Armory near the end of the route, and sat in the grandstands there. Dwight Eisenhower was the Grand Marshall that year, and he walked right past us and into the Armory at the end of the Parade. (Don't look it up, I don't want to know how many year ago that was!) Another year I lived five blocks from Colorado Boulevard. I threw a New Year's Eve party, my friends stayed over, and we walked to the parade that morning (those that weren't too hung over).
So, the Parade has been a big deal for me. When we moved away from Southern California, I always got up on New Years Day and watched the Parade. My husband doesn't care that much about the Parade. He's a great guy, but he has his shortcomings, and he'd rather sleep in. So I get up, make a pot of coffee and maybe some toast, and watch the floats and the bands and the equestrian units, and the Grand Marshall in the antique carriage. I love every hokey minute, including the Rose Queen and her court, things that would normally disgust me. But for that one morning, all the rules go out the window, and everything is magic.
But this year? The Parade is moved to January 2, and my entire year is now out of step. I'm coping, but it's just not right. I took Monday morning off work, and watched, but the whole time I knew I would eventually have to get out of my pajamas and into dress-up clothes, and head to the office. It just didn't feel right. But I am strong, and I will build a bridge and get over it. *grin*

So here I am, back in the "real world" of work and writing, and everyday life. I have writing projects that I hope I can talk about soon, and life news that I am hoping will be very good. The year is beginning with loads of possibilities.

I can't wait to see what all it brings!

It's Jeri G. Day!

Everyone needs traditions, and especially families. It's what holds us together, and gives us the shared memories that make us real families, not just people who happen to have common ancestors.
Today was one of those traditions.
I have a younger sister, who is one of my favorite people. Bright and clever, with a wicked sense of humor, and a great attitude. She just retired after teaching elementary school for many years - for which my other sister and I have promoted her to oldest. Only fair, if she's retired and we're still working, don't you think?
But a few years back, her life wasn't quite so rosy. Her son, the oldest of her three kids, was going through what is politely called "a rough patch." The stress was making her unhappy, and home was more a minefield than a refuge, as the entire family tried to negotiate the highly-charged environment.
That year, I invited Jeri out to the beach for her birthday. The local AAUW chapter sponsors a holiday home tour, so I bought tickets for us. I took her to breakfast, then we went and looked at how the other 1% lives. (These tours are always expensive homes in an exclusive gated community. The kind of place most of us will never live.) We wandered through the houses on the tour, walked a little ways through the neighborhood, and generally just hung out. We went to the quilt shop, and stopped in the candy store. In short, we did goofy, girly things for a few hours, and for that one afternoon she didn't have to be constantly worrying about what the rest of her family was doing.
When she got ready to drive home, she told me, "Today felt like Jeri G. day at the beach." I knew our day together had helped.
Since that day, things have improved for her. Her son is still a great kid, and he is growing into a fine man, who is learning to handle his problems in positive ways. Kid #2, my niece, graduates from college this year, and the "baby girl" will finish high school in June, and already has been accepted at two universities.
But we still have Jeri G. day, because we enjoy it. Today my husband came with us, and the three of us had a blast. We had a late breakfast at a local "joint" where the cook really knows his way around an omlette. We wandered through an assortment of gorgeous houses, admiring the views of the ocean, and looking at ideas for our own houses. We may never actually do any of them, but it's fun to look. We did a little shopping. Nothing monumental, nothing of great importance, nothing that will change the world.
But it changes our world, just a little. It reminds us that we are sisters, not just of blood, but of the heart. The third sister, the one in the middle, didn't make it this year. She was working on a Habitat for Humanity project, and couldn't come down to join us. We missed her, but I am so proud of what she was doing!
So, today I just want to send a love letter to my sisters. As with my in-laws, I got very lucky in the family ties sweepstakes.
Some days, life is really, really good.

I made my mother-in-law cry

I have to admit, I did it on purpose. But she made me cry, too, so I think we are even.

But before you all decide I am a cruel, evil, uncaring witch, just give me a chance to explain. Please? Really, I adore my in-laws. Everybody should be as lucky as I am, when it comes to in-laws.

See, I got this email from her today, and she said she just bought my latest book, the TIME AFTER TIME anthology (scroll down and just look at that GORGEOUS cover!). She took it home, and read my story aloud, sharing it with my father-in-law. Well, the story made her cry - which was a better reaction than I could have hoped for when I was writing it.

I mean, I love that story, but I didn't know if anyone else would even get it, much less be moved by what I wrote. But I made her cry, and she wrote to tell me so, and that made me get all misty-eyed and sniffly.

So, it's all good. And if I can make people cry with my words, then I have really accomplished something. A writer can't ask for more than that; that they reached another human being with their words and their story, and touched their heart. It's what we all aim for when we sit down to put words on paper, to make a connection with the reader.

Thanks, Mott, for letting the story touch you, and for sharing that with me. You two are the greatest!!

www.yorkwriters.com

Between Steve and me, we have two blogs and three webpages. Now we also have a domain name, where we can link all our various secret identities. Well, they aren't really secret, but I think having a secret identity would be really, really cool.
Even though there isn't much there at the moment, it will be the hub of our little empire. Ok, not so much an empire at this point, either. But that would be cool, too.
What we do have that is cool, is Herbie.
We have had Beetles of one sort or another for a long time. Kind of a York family tradition. Steve's been riding in Beetles since he was a baby. So, when we went to buy a new car a few years back, we got The Tick, otherwise known as the Great Blue Vehicle of Justice. Even had a custom license plate frame made that read "Knock Off All That Evil." The Tick was a Techno Blue TDI (thus the name), and he served us well. This summer, however, he gave his life to protect Steve in an accident.
So, we had to replace The Tick. We went searching for another Turbo Diesel Beetle, since there really wasn't another car on the road that we wanted as much. But rising gas prices have made diesels - and their 40+mpg - hard to find. Which is how we found Herbie.
Herbie is a factory custom job. The number and stripes are decals that were applied at the factory. We don't know how many were made, but I doubt there were many. Maybe someday we will find out.
Herbie was on a lot about 60 miles from our little seaside town, and was the closest diesel Beetle in the state. I went to look at him, and immediately burst out laughing. He was so impossibly over-the-top. Naturally, we bought him.
Driving Herbie is like being in a parade, all the time. People stop and stare. They wave and smile. Little kids squeal and drag their parents over to see him. A few days ago, Steve came out of a store to find a woman taking pictures. She said, "My duaghter will never believe this." And it's a chick magnet. Cute girls stop Steve all the time to tell him, "Cool car." Even when he's parked next to a brand-new Corvette, Herbie is the one that gets the attention.
So, I don't have a secret identity, but I do have a new identity. I am now known around town as "Herbie's mom."

More good news

Last night I came home from work to find an email from one of the editors I work with. She was writing to tell me a short story, "A Day At The Unicorn Races," was accepted for the anthology FANTASY GONE WRONG. It's a silly story, for a light-hearted collection about what happens when fantasy works on ways we don't necessarily anticipate. I don't know when this one will be out, but I'll be sure to announce it when I do know.

The really cool part is that this is the third story I've sold to this particular anthology packager.

The first one, "Godspeed," is coming out the end of this month in a collection called TIME AFTER TIME. It's up on Amazon, and I'm very pleased with it.

The story is about John Glenn, and is my very own little slice of total hero worship. I think Glenn is one of the true heroes in my lifetime, one of the good guys, and doing this story was a tribute to a man who truly has "The Right Stuff." Being old enough to remember Sputnik, and the original Mercury 7 astronauts, this was just a fun story to write.

I hope copies will be available in time for the Orycon science fiction convention the first weekend in November. I will be there, doing some panels and a book-signing, and it would be wonderful to have new books to sign!

A picture is worth a thousand words

You know, sometimes you just have to brag. This is the cover of my latest book, Dream House a romance from Five Star Books. And since it's worth a thousand words, I don't need to say much more.

But I will anyway.

Romance is one of those things people hate to admit they read. But romance novels account for a large percentage of book sales, both new and used. The promise of a happy ending appeals to women, and men, of all social and economic strata. In fact, the demographics of the romance reader is a rather fascinating subject. According to a recent study, romance readers are better-educated than the general population, and a higher percentage describe themselves as being in a happy relationship. So much for the image of a sad, lonely, uneducated woman living through the pages of a book.

So I say it proudly: I write romance. I give my readers a happy ending, and I refuse to apologize for it. Call me a Pollyanna if you want, but I believe in love, and I know happy endings do happen.

And that's the truth!

Coming up for air

Well, it has been a while since I was here, hasn't it?

Thing at the beach have been, ahem, a teensey bit busy. That book I mentioned? It's done, turned in, and I have heard from my editor that she's satisfied with it. Which makes me a very happy camper. ALIAS APO: STRATEGIC RESERVE, should come out in March, 2006.

And Steve has been busy, too. That's my husband, and fellow writer, J. Steven York . He just finished his fourth book in the last 14 months.

But now! Now the books are in, and we have time to take a deep breath. Which means we cough and choke on the accummulated dust. But at least we can come in here and rearrange the furniture a little, and say hello.

And who knows? I may show up a little more often!

And The Good News Is ...

That I just got the go-ahead to write the book I was talking about earlier. Of course, there is a downside, which is that I have to do it quickly. The deadline is short, and it is going to take most of my time for the next few weeks. Which means I probably won't be posting here much. Though it's not like I was doing a lot here, anyway.

But I should drop back in from time to time, and talk about my progress. Until then, I'll be in the office.

Life is strange. Sometimes, exceedingly strange.

Being a writer, I'm always on the lookout for opportunities. But when I am very lucky, opportunities come to me. Right now, for instance, I am trying to write a proposal for a book based on a popular TV series. Can't say much, as this is all very preliminary. The cool part, though, is that they called me - don't know how they got my name and email, but they did, and I got email from the editor, inviting me to submit.

I don't know where this is going, though it's proving to be an interesting ride.

Stay tuned for developments!

Going Coastal

A few years ago, I realized that every seven years I had to blow up my life, sometimes in very dramatic fashion. Since I am starting year six of the cycle, I figured I needed someplace to keep track of whatever the next step is. There have been good ones, like marriage and children, bad ones, like divorce, and scary ones. Like the year I quit my job without a new one, moved three hundred miles away without a place to stay, and where I knew about three people.

Six years ago, I bought a house, took a new job, and moved to the Oregon coast. I love it here, and don't plan to move again. Ever. How can beat an office overlooking the beach, with a decent salary attached, and a house four blocks from the ocean?

But I know my seven-year cycle is warmimg up, so watch this space!