tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69731171693235568462024-03-11T22:58:29.577-07:00On the edge of the chair of literatureGayle Carline's blah-g.Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.comBlogger682125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-45805939661587269942024-03-11T22:57:00.000-07:002024-03-11T22:57:28.917-07:00Why doncha come up and see me sometime?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://giphy.com/embed/FuL2ZzYOjjIAKbvFfM" width="480"></iframe></div><p><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/pbsamericanmasters-pbs-mae-west-american-masters-FuL2ZzYOjjIAKbvFfM">via GIPHY</a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's March and I haven't been here since December so of course I'm wallowing in the guilt and shame of my own perfectionist tendencies. I don't have a bunch to talk about because my brain is completely obsessed with the novel I'm trying to finish and it's hard to think of anything else.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In addition, I'm having a hard time sleeping at night, my squirrel brain teasing me at 3:00 a.m. with questions like, "Who was that actress who played in noirs but it wasn't Jane oh-what's-her-name she was in that movie with Robert Mitchum...?" You get the picture. This means I sit down at my computer to write and fall asleep instead.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyway, I wanted you to all know I'm not dead yet, I'm working on MURDER TAKES THE REINS, and I'll be at a bunch of artsy craftsy festivals selling my books. I'd love to see your faces!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">First up, this Sunday, March 17, at the Placentia Women's Club Round Table. They give prizes out at this event, and there are lots of vendors. I would love to see you--and maybe give you a prize!</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3qTIl0kA8s29hYWEd33NnMw7KTf19Yw4xkh4ve8pRjEz8k0jYWQfjAJSW9PKFMGiV90VrSBahzCnVcZ7gBvL-WiHs4lDpqjVxshUrDsZzB3gFwds_vWNt4Yu5l9IEXliu7ul0FGoyT8pUG05NA6ojMWsPI9tFVPXtWDhVXanjE3XO88axSTHF_2GU0Tl/s1500/BannerMarch24.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj3qTIl0kA8s29hYWEd33NnMw7KTf19Yw4xkh4ve8pRjEz8k0jYWQfjAJSW9PKFMGiV90VrSBahzCnVcZ7gBvL-WiHs4lDpqjVxshUrDsZzB3gFwds_vWNt4Yu5l9IEXliu7ul0FGoyT8pUG05NA6ojMWsPI9tFVPXtWDhVXanjE3XO88axSTHF_2GU0Tl/w640-h640/BannerMarch24.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: medium;">I've got more appearances at more festivals, so stay tuned!</span></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-67123005717077783382023-12-20T22:25:00.000-08:002023-12-20T22:25:27.547-08:00And to all...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqRRIVS3erGZZIewrW-SDplr8dPGkpJaKf2evoSuuzyGnqgG-bvKlOcne3yqImttNd17BPF3qCUvGDF_PulzGU5oye2p0R2bHWo1wsKkk60mrrq1uO5VOcVNyCvplnFBb-76BvpeabzXOVwxWOuNB_Hb41JnBH3cq0Y5aiqGFw-lQVpBWCph1ttGtsxij8/s2279/xmascardpix23outside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1104" data-original-width="2279" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqRRIVS3erGZZIewrW-SDplr8dPGkpJaKf2evoSuuzyGnqgG-bvKlOcne3yqImttNd17BPF3qCUvGDF_PulzGU5oye2p0R2bHWo1wsKkk60mrrq1uO5VOcVNyCvplnFBb-76BvpeabzXOVwxWOuNB_Hb41JnBH3cq0Y5aiqGFw-lQVpBWCph1ttGtsxij8/w640-h310/xmascardpix23outside.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><b>Forgive me, Mr. Claws. I'm afraid I've made a terrible mess of your holiday.</b></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCUo883DO2RKOAAl75F1-wmjbHMW9lI8U_q-bgnUGmkz8AIrVICdJP7zw_8f7KeWHK4_-LWseCg29PQ33O7sv4KNFZO7hhZzA4JvScTM_bVoXz9eTRm13dmJ0WYRorhra_jjxMs6DqzbbI_N6LsjEdBbqCLMurs8qFUcyRXFpTFBYBxXGCjZUGqbY36Jw/s4032/20231007_174602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyCUo883DO2RKOAAl75F1-wmjbHMW9lI8U_q-bgnUGmkz8AIrVICdJP7zw_8f7KeWHK4_-LWseCg29PQ33O7sv4KNFZO7hhZzA4JvScTM_bVoXz9eTRm13dmJ0WYRorhra_jjxMs6DqzbbI_N6LsjEdBbqCLMurs8qFUcyRXFpTFBYBxXGCjZUGqbY36Jw/w150-h200/20231007_174602.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br />I’ve leapt into the 90s with this quote. I do
love me some Nightmare Before Christmas.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal">2023 has been busy and
surreal. On the plus side, we were all kept running to vacations, to weddings,
to engagements and activities galore. On the minus side, there was a minus
side.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I think it’s all going to
even out with enough miles behind us.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We do have a new member of
our family this year. We are fostering a delightful 10-year-old Cairn terrier
named Nessa. Think Toto from the Wizard of Oz. She is still quite spry for her
age and has told our 2-year-old Corgi Piper that she wears the crown in this
group. Nessa’s owner is sadly quite ill, so we are treating this foster like an
adoption unless a miracle happens, and the owner is capable of taking care of
her again.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Trips, so many trips this
year. We were in Big Bear for a wedding, Chicago for a library conference, and
Temecula for another wedding. We also took our week in the mountains, which was
delightful, came home to repack and fly off to Hawai’i. We were on the big
island in Kona with my brother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nephew, plus all of
my sister-in-law’s siblings and their families. We didn’t really do any
touristy stuff, but I enjoyed the feeling of being in this big chaotic jumble
of a family, not to mention all the food.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Dale got to go to Angels’ spring
training camp, where he did a lot of ushering. There were a couple of nights
when I had dinner at Craftsman Pizza and tried to find him on TV during the
game. Alas, I never did. He also volunteered at the U.S. Open Golf Tournament,
although he missed this year’s Boston trip to play golf with his friends. His
mom is requiring a lot more help these days and he’s been on-call to take care
of her, our developmentally disabled cousin who lives with her, and the house
they live in. He still manages to golf and to coach a team in the local parks
and recreation basketball league.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And I see him every now and
again.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My year started off strong. I
had an author booth at a lot of festivals, I was guest speaker at the National
Federation of Women’s Clubs Convention, which was thrilling, and Dhani and I
finished in the Top Ten at the AQHA Level 1 West Championships. And then my
semi-routine mammogram discovered breast cancer. It was Stage 0, contained, and
all I had to have was surgery. No radiation, no chemo, just five years of
monitoring and hormone-blocking meds. The next time you see me, I may have
grown a beard.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Marcus is still working the
day job at Cal State Long Beach while he plants himself in the world of
barbershop. It seems that the Newfangled Four are constantly traveling around
the country singing, competing, and making goofy videos. They came in 6<sup>th</sup>
at this year’s International Barbershop Competition, and vow that next year,
they’re aiming for the top. He’s also still in two choral groups, but I’m
afraid his days as part of Westbeat have come to a close. I will miss seeing
him perform in Downtown Disney, but a guy’s gotta pace himself. In the
meantime, he’s having fun as an amateur bartender, whipping up unusual and
tasty concoctions. I may have to hire him for my next soiree. </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">In the Tim Burton version of
Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter tells Alice she’s lost her muchness. “You
used to be much more…muchier.” I’m thinking these days about the muchness of
life and how many times I didn’t do something because I was overwhelmed by how
much energy it took. Then COVID came along and I realized how many things I
missed out on because I thought I’d get to them later. And this year, going
through breast cancer, I wondered if I’d have a “later.”</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">So, don’t wait. We know life
is fragile but it’s hard to believe when we’re sitting here, hale and hearty.
Take the vacation. Go to the concert. Stop by the little shop you admire.
Invite a friend to join you. Use up every scrap of every minute of every day.
To quote Auntie Mame: “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to
death.”</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWIF6jHavZCU_R1-6iOzUYFv10Ij1rNM3CXYhlPg8FjdwLfHYr6DUVMF7hWI4QIO3FUaWh0Isex6EDhwzWD6sI9_MzhX1GQT3MBWhyYU5FlBIO2uxLgGifOxOMWhwh4XJc2CFMlxxpEoj8haQT96fId8hsIuSQAE_BoeFKi8fkqkysOIMzewIAmaEcm1dV/s3648/20230514_115706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWIF6jHavZCU_R1-6iOzUYFv10Ij1rNM3CXYhlPg8FjdwLfHYr6DUVMF7hWI4QIO3FUaWh0Isex6EDhwzWD6sI9_MzhX1GQT3MBWhyYU5FlBIO2uxLgGifOxOMWhwh4XJc2CFMlxxpEoj8haQT96fId8hsIuSQAE_BoeFKi8fkqkysOIMzewIAmaEcm1dV/w150-h200/20230514_115706.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Fill your
plate!</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Permanent Marker; font-size: large;">The Carlines</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i6qP_ZKVdxAlcCgu1WK_PMETJrelq2MQZmYWYYmZhHLmeFVCV0ScWOwY459bWj7GQK7Vdx2MqChSGEMtGadgAFDodNvjYqMc6q5uoopJLfddtDHrD8O1tM82PQkRY_R-Py3Ythlj39Z-wCoolPXotS9SbyMpm2bnlkQsDWcpmYZ5cmzj7x1kTxOHtNYB/s2279/xmascardpixinside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="2279" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2i6qP_ZKVdxAlcCgu1WK_PMETJrelq2MQZmYWYYmZhHLmeFVCV0ScWOwY459bWj7GQK7Vdx2MqChSGEMtGadgAFDodNvjYqMc6q5uoopJLfddtDHrD8O1tM82PQkRY_R-Py3Ythlj39Z-wCoolPXotS9SbyMpm2bnlkQsDWcpmYZ5cmzj7x1kTxOHtNYB/w640-h262/xmascardpixinside.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-86898779684982467472023-08-28T19:38:00.003-07:002023-08-28T19:41:30.611-07:00Having it all<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Author. Singer. Actor. Artist.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We've all heard the response when we said we wanted a career in the arts. <i>"That's great, but you should have a backup plan."</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Accountant. Teacher. Nurse. Tech. The Backup Plan.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxzAI_6UpXKzjvD_woApJce53jTqCTWD8FHeS0f6LnTAlpAhrtx7ludWvubJCQ1LgIaR1BhSEIAzIaRDx2G40oyHffM-RHtPQLlU2N3qBliEOzMl0iWbj0obNZpAO8VM_yVjr6i5WcaarORaKaN6LR7u-mmleQt8PmbZbYyYURpUQ9G5A6cuPGzvQl-RH/s2550/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmxzAI_6UpXKzjvD_woApJce53jTqCTWD8FHeS0f6LnTAlpAhrtx7ludWvubJCQ1LgIaR1BhSEIAzIaRDx2G40oyHffM-RHtPQLlU2N3qBliEOzMl0iWbj0obNZpAO8VM_yVjr6i5WcaarORaKaN6LR7u-mmleQt8PmbZbYyYURpUQ9G5A6cuPGzvQl-RH/w129-h200/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" width="129" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Not making a living as an artist, needing a day job while you pursue your dreams, sounds like failure. You're supposed to reach for the stars, pour your heart and soul into your desires, knock on every door, chase every opportunity until your book is a bestseller, or your song hits Number One, or your movie is a blockbuster. Anything less than that is a big fat ZERO, and so are you.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">BUT...what if the day job isn't the Backup Plan? What if you can be an accountant with a weekly singing gig and be happy?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A podcast I listened to recently made the case for the Parallel Job. As long as artists are creating art, we are not failures. Our day job is not what we've HAD to do to put food on the table--it's a parallel role, an additional plan we put into motion to enhance our lives.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwyHzQTXj14dyyWwK0UyB5PpYuSKNavw7wiFGzYLys6MDzbkYdqO-QqR7aDS6aR7YQr6sf5xBMj_gYT9rxAo0RhaP0Nd1yIhdNdrdm_DJOBARqrQyJLJJxbBRfw5ZG9eto0RJcHcbMWrFO-HacNTfwOkMcbHDCXtdGhqRvCAGCmO5683fQJkBNqRp0koy/s2048/TheComboDuJour.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1598" data-original-width="2048" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgwyHzQTXj14dyyWwK0UyB5PpYuSKNavw7wiFGzYLys6MDzbkYdqO-QqR7aDS6aR7YQr6sf5xBMj_gYT9rxAo0RhaP0Nd1yIhdNdrdm_DJOBARqrQyJLJJxbBRfw5ZG9eto0RJcHcbMWrFO-HacNTfwOkMcbHDCXtdGhqRvCAGCmO5683fQJkBNqRp0koy/w200-h156/TheComboDuJour.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />And I might argue, that parallel job is necessary to artists. Even the creative brain needs to take a break now and then. Rest enables the creative ideas to bubble to the top, keeps the heart and mind from burning out. Working with numbers, with people, with objects allows our creativity to wander. And when it wanders, it sometimes picks up pretty rocks, interesting leaves, and a new idea or two.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The podcast also made a case for creating art for art's sake. So many authors are locked into a series or a genre because that's where their readers are so that's what they sell. Singers stay in their country/rock/jazz lane because every song has to reach for the top of the chart. Artists who find a niche (geometric cows, luminescent landscapes, splatter patterns) are encouraged to "paint more of that."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But maybe you don't always need to monetize your creativity. Maybe sometimes write something just for you. Sing a song for your baby. Put on a show for free. Do something that allows you to let go, feel the wind through your soul as you reach inside yourself and hitch it to the breeze. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Keep the day job and do your art. Your success comes from juggling multiple tasks, from doing things to the best of your abilities, and from feeling the freedom that comes with self-expression.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEEaOfg73_5Kl3ZvX94PM83DybQQbKprM50227H4Dqgko4zg8CrWvRoFJYMLkt023dvc-c9ihBPbcgm_S3Lp594BZZBg_6DLvI6YuG2yQ1OpNxIIdTxfaKjyNQCxeI8mEjdX6iQIZgLfV-_qO3V1gTh1kDGAvdFTLCazGjsAeS1rtrRyDHf4epjtPCMX4/s4032/20230828_193353.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnEEaOfg73_5Kl3ZvX94PM83DybQQbKprM50227H4Dqgko4zg8CrWvRoFJYMLkt023dvc-c9ihBPbcgm_S3Lp594BZZBg_6DLvI6YuG2yQ1OpNxIIdTxfaKjyNQCxeI8mEjdX6iQIZgLfV-_qO3V1gTh1kDGAvdFTLCazGjsAeS1rtrRyDHf4epjtPCMX4/w150-h200/20230828_193353.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Art, and life, are to be enjoyed. Get out there and enjoy them!</span><p></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-22057303841281396362023-08-13T18:43:00.001-07:002023-08-13T18:43:12.874-07:00I have no regrets<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Y'all know one thing about me, and that is I'm a lady of a certain age...that age being older.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What you may not know is that I went to Las Vegas last weekend with three of my friends. We were having a farewell to one of the gals, who is moving out of the area. I'm not much of a Vegas baby. I'm too pale to enjoy the pools, and I don't gamble. The only things I like to do there are eat and go to shows. But I was happy and willing to spend a weekend with friends.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQjsw9NTViiRl-C4GtjYq7YsEelJuSZOHOsrGwrin2ypQvBf8cpXP-jAs6W7bzdyxlAK3WdvxYdZmnh19uecRXSFi-Ijs7FzgEdiGYOhS04JG0hzXoihwzmlsN_0bT6v2q7qWuvntkv_pmuONNkVO7BGYixHBbbxtcP1c64aVsHpodo_0SjpezwYXxlNr/s2700/oc38_5_12_38_53_9-cm0-sid10-cam4_autozoom_ut6fzc3_ut_1691264361649_c_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="2700" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQjsw9NTViiRl-C4GtjYq7YsEelJuSZOHOsrGwrin2ypQvBf8cpXP-jAs6W7bzdyxlAK3WdvxYdZmnh19uecRXSFi-Ijs7FzgEdiGYOhS04JG0hzXoihwzmlsN_0bT6v2q7qWuvntkv_pmuONNkVO7BGYixHBbbxtcP1c64aVsHpodo_0SjpezwYXxlNr/s320/oc38_5_12_38_53_9-cm0-sid10-cam4_autozoom_ut6fzc3_ut_1691264361649_c_main.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">Vegas' motto is "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Not when I come to town. I will confess all and feel no regrets.</span><p></p><p><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraGg2VQOCf0TPIkOUYciOO_tdI4qbqC4WEUCsW8g3_R7YbuBuoe2lysR6NyO3hXJcoyDZ5pFyPoB3e07_r0ZceYr8Iu_Ug8z62QwDPIq6Wg10JATxeo4vpCKmvRIZvBY6wAcdvkppvJDgzJhifkFlEnrJRPnG3oeWUhfqMVqPt2QOIa_w2uqDK46jJYRh/s4032/20230805_210222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgraGg2VQOCf0TPIkOUYciOO_tdI4qbqC4WEUCsW8g3_R7YbuBuoe2lysR6NyO3hXJcoyDZ5pFyPoB3e07_r0ZceYr8Iu_Ug8z62QwDPIq6Wg10JATxeo4vpCKmvRIZvBY6wAcdvkppvJDgzJhifkFlEnrJRPnG3oeWUhfqMVqPt2QOIa_w2uqDK46jJYRh/s320/20230805_210222.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">NoMad Library Restaurant</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our weekend included shopping at fabulous stores, eating delish food, touring the Princess Diana Exhibit, ziplining down Fremont Street, and seeing the show, "Thunder From Down Under," where I ended up on stage with half-undressed young men. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm pretty sure I know which one of those activities you want me to tell you<br /> about.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I wasn't excited about seeing Thunder, but I've never seen the show and I didn't want to complain. We were tucked into a lovely booth in the back of the theater where I figured the dancers would be far away.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Apparently, I was wrong. They like to include the whole room.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The show was as I expected--dancing, ripping off shirts, ripping off pants, etc. The audience was overwhelmingly filled with bachelorette parties and each lead dancer picked a young woman from the audience and did suggestive dance moves with her. Rinse and repeat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think I had just checked my watch when I saw the emcee come off the stage toward an older, white-haired woman. Her name was Judy and he asked her to accompany him. She declined. We tried to encourage her ("Ju-DEE! JU-DEE!) but she wasn't having it. So he smiled and said, "That's okay, Judy. I think I see someone else in the crowd who might accompany me this evening."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpf2n_9Cr6HyAKpwQIBuVuflDguDXF00xAV_gmXwVTOH8TNjwBzKLNqv53ncFJ_vYx-GuXbcIYqUqnTE20KitKY3Y1BHft5rKR5Q3KXG4kHOdYcBTjJziQvVdgnh2I27jZH0983-zW1JJ0-WGQpbZaw3mEktawtMFsRWfBGZjnBylBTrJXCUpjMNLrb-X/s1200/IMG_20230806_213252_488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDpf2n_9Cr6HyAKpwQIBuVuflDguDXF00xAV_gmXwVTOH8TNjwBzKLNqv53ncFJ_vYx-GuXbcIYqUqnTE20KitKY3Y1BHft5rKR5Q3KXG4kHOdYcBTjJziQvVdgnh2I27jZH0983-zW1JJ0-WGQpbZaw3mEktawtMFsRWfBGZjnBylBTrJXCUpjMNLrb-X/s320/IMG_20230806_213252_488.jpg" width="256" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />Then he wandered all the way to the back, all the way to our booth, and held his hand out to me. I could have said no, but my motto has always been, "Sure, I'm not doing anything else."</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He ushered me to a tall-backed red velvet chair in the middle of the stage, wrapped a boa around my neck, and asked me if I wanted "an experience." My first thought was, "Thanks, I've had some." I mean, I'm not a nun, right? Then he asked, "Would you like the boys to dance for you?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Oooohhhh. THAT'S what he meant.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The boys came out in shirts and pants, dancing to 70s disco music. It's so cute they think that was my era. At some point the shirts came off and they kept dancing. Every once in awhile they'd come over to me and smile and I'd smile back and it was just a very smiley kind of thing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwHmYUiRTS2GBWvSl2AVlp9R80Bb9apTlD0pPXxJzEniF6Y7GQDzZ03uLCaTx4ttsqgGH8LUFn8uUulo8HbIoY7I7YAwZTFYnaxAR9pWvq8fogJfUpeOaceb_TjBb0vQtXNBcg7PfBrNH6TUoGkbBNNHxp25iIIVTsMf7mNoXczoeqHrIarq1UfA0kign/s1280/15261.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMwHmYUiRTS2GBWvSl2AVlp9R80Bb9apTlD0pPXxJzEniF6Y7GQDzZ03uLCaTx4ttsqgGH8LUFn8uUulo8HbIoY7I7YAwZTFYnaxAR9pWvq8fogJfUpeOaceb_TjBb0vQtXNBcg7PfBrNH6TUoGkbBNNHxp25iIIVTsMf7mNoXczoeqHrIarq1UfA0kign/s320/15261.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">At some point I noticed they weren't on the stage anymore but the emcee was. He faced me and put my hands on his tush. I didn't squeeze but I did hold. Then he turned away from me and stood in front of me with his hands away from his sides.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />I'm such a dork. I didn't know what he wanted me to do. At last, I held my arms out between his waist and his arms, my palms extended in an "I'm clueless" pose. I guess that was the right thing to do because he took my right hand and ran it down his chest, into his pants. Not too far, though. There are laws about that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeO0w1kIPEeQTuj0UaL0WwkD-pNiXFo59uyv0RT3T5mn_DcDc5di7oFOHJbTDceuDnu8OV1P2A8On6bXIgaIPfZ_UzQn_bQZ9CMCxPxC8QabOHw6v0RI4UypddqV5jilfwJMOpprkkSydXDDtPdG-i4gU8V1NgZIibTQ0OahpQRME5etLy408EVT3LHmir/s1204/15258.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1204" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeO0w1kIPEeQTuj0UaL0WwkD-pNiXFo59uyv0RT3T5mn_DcDc5di7oFOHJbTDceuDnu8OV1P2A8On6bXIgaIPfZ_UzQn_bQZ9CMCxPxC8QabOHw6v0RI4UypddqV5jilfwJMOpprkkSydXDDtPdG-i4gU8V1NgZIibTQ0OahpQRME5etLy408EVT3LHmir/s320/15258.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />At various times he would lean in and let his cheek touch mine (faces, people!) so that it looked as if he was kissing me, but his lips never touched me. That's when I realized it was all "smoke and mirrors," even the suggestive dancing. Each time he leaned in, he asked if I was doing okay. I assured him I was fine.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It was a little like having the young guy at the grocery store ask me if I needed help getting my bags to the car.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8GM6rACuc4F8ZEOPAtseB3if9Lq8-f2QFbR1Sc9nAYhYBrt_irKJhvrgp_3gPrtM3oof6VwaqLn0PHXvmhccNTIe6KXWVuKs0fdIHKOuxq9UgsHRNXLBGuIobldPhynhrQbMp_iNkjZGr73UDf8TD9xvAsc9xhkPHguq3c4E2dd8QhVNwalYhyQfzBP8/s1020/15257.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1020" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8GM6rACuc4F8ZEOPAtseB3if9Lq8-f2QFbR1Sc9nAYhYBrt_irKJhvrgp_3gPrtM3oof6VwaqLn0PHXvmhccNTIe6KXWVuKs0fdIHKOuxq9UgsHRNXLBGuIobldPhynhrQbMp_iNkjZGr73UDf8TD9xvAsc9xhkPHguq3c4E2dd8QhVNwalYhyQfzBP8/s320/15257.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;">He took my hands and lifted me from the chair, saying, "Now we're going to bow."</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i>Bow? </i>I thought. <i>What's a bow? </i>I remembered just in time, we bowed, and he escorted me to the edge of the stage. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The crowd all cheered and gave me high-fives, told me how entertaining I was. I took that with a grain of salt, since they'd all been drinking. But it was fun.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And now I have a boa.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuP-joCcEAuIoawnhcTpR4n_a6ZvgALYAz8k8CUhuXKIo1hAI0nHatXcU1F_pMQrZRhTyWfUrTBqfG1wKNdG3OQ5j4el__KkSoUIv-TyStgvecvW8GMbpKbmjC3ZWPwgaHpjhCDG6TMYy6lc6pauPYsGIaPTOo2Jg_ZaVYUJ0vQ6tErc6vGciwUh0o0Y5/s4032/20230806_170749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUuP-joCcEAuIoawnhcTpR4n_a6ZvgALYAz8k8CUhuXKIo1hAI0nHatXcU1F_pMQrZRhTyWfUrTBqfG1wKNdG3OQ5j4el__KkSoUIv-TyStgvecvW8GMbpKbmjC3ZWPwgaHpjhCDG6TMYy6lc6pauPYsGIaPTOo2Jg_ZaVYUJ0vQ6tErc6vGciwUh0o0Y5/s320/20230806_170749.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-81129675150964780952023-07-10T12:59:00.002-07:002023-07-10T12:59:36.642-07:00The memories I wasn't looking for<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Like Barbra says:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jT0IXTXAnmo" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is what happens when you go through your old photographs looking for an old photo. I didn't find what I was looking for, but I found others that made me think and laugh and reminisce and even broke my heart just a little bit.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Naturally, I needed to share.</span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is Samirah.</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy5pRm64as82OiS_lueyy2quuxV3btij_AzMW8SHiPkxqBIVmB7mfbpzL9vORgw56iJ_ayynnQpNZXUaRHTFoJgXSn5xlcMPCGa-IwYQ9axfZGzoBQhPxiTYud6hvOF0Tw128V7CwQgB6baN7q0HAWYb_A3lrElYcArLew-lY3QfSH5rn4ipLhZ-_ZMe4/s1097/Samirah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="1097" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGy5pRm64as82OiS_lueyy2quuxV3btij_AzMW8SHiPkxqBIVmB7mfbpzL9vORgw56iJ_ayynnQpNZXUaRHTFoJgXSn5xlcMPCGa-IwYQ9axfZGzoBQhPxiTYud6hvOF0Tw128V7CwQgB6baN7q0HAWYb_A3lrElYcArLew-lY3QfSH5rn4ipLhZ-_ZMe4/w400-h321/Samirah.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">She and her family took care of Marcus while Dale and I worked, all the way up until we had to tear ourselves from her loving hug and send Marcus to elementary school. Her family is from Lebanon and Marcus was their little prince. They doted on him and included us in their orthodox Christian traditions, sharing their food, inviting us to their son's wedding, etc. While he was with them, Marcus could at least understand Arabic because they spoke it in the home, and one of my favorite things to do with him was say, "busa" so he would kiss me.</span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is my cousin Max. </span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GpLOTKwSeGJK7kVFQXD0NdeLJMM5DjvwZYrjWuLTrVkaHOBUaeDYKHPZuEgzwqcfhqOoGpHdm-xaDpB-m_MwO1Yr4Ahkut8KkUhzl6LBlPCaTnsRBaWwWZKbTTRO8o93ml8g2CIlopOcnGYvrkMl1G2I3vN-ncgCQqu8WjfHh02ZxfKBV6tYcoHjufAc/s896/CousinMax.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="891" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9GpLOTKwSeGJK7kVFQXD0NdeLJMM5DjvwZYrjWuLTrVkaHOBUaeDYKHPZuEgzwqcfhqOoGpHdm-xaDpB-m_MwO1Yr4Ahkut8KkUhzl6LBlPCaTnsRBaWwWZKbTTRO8o93ml8g2CIlopOcnGYvrkMl1G2I3vN-ncgCQqu8WjfHh02ZxfKBV6tYcoHjufAc/w398-h400/CousinMax.jpg" width="398" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">He lived in Missouri with his mother, Aunt Dovey (her real name was Little Dove) and he'd come visit my grandmother in Illinois every once in a bit. We loved it when Max visited and Grandma was always ready to receive traveling guests--her skill as a hostess still awes and evades me! The thing is, I'm reasonably certain Max was gay. At one point he had a friend, also named Max, who would accompany him on these trips and Grandma was always grateful that they never complained about sharing a double bed when they visited. He had The. Best. Sense. of Humor. Ever.</span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is Alyssa Barnes.</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm54Z-_LZye05Mjr8jRo5cg7ahqnd9uicEne1LCie8NMpu-JwFxGfL1DdmXymdeJjLGNZrlzwXbf-jdkqaOoP9Vh6aUA-mabZQ94wW6gZXKXrotBuLKthJ38_-_WWm_METo52Jr-ERn82Ta3IXAmDwl0nEWwff8Fnpgvx9Sd11ScbyzFiCdfPgm7D8YwG/s1038/AlyssaGoddess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1038" data-original-width="714" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEm54Z-_LZye05Mjr8jRo5cg7ahqnd9uicEne1LCie8NMpu-JwFxGfL1DdmXymdeJjLGNZrlzwXbf-jdkqaOoP9Vh6aUA-mabZQ94wW6gZXKXrotBuLKthJ38_-_WWm_METo52Jr-ERn82Ta3IXAmDwl0nEWwff8Fnpgvx9Sd11ScbyzFiCdfPgm7D8YwG/w275-h400/AlyssaGoddess.jpg" width="275" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This picture both makes me extremely happy and devastatingly sad. We lost Alyssa to that damned demon Cancer at much too young an age. I see this picture and see immediately what a goddess she was, and I'm gutted that she didn't live long enough to show us what wonders she could perform. Here's a link to what I wrote about her loss: <a href="https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2016/04/you-do-not-write-away-heartache.html">https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2016/04/you-do-not-write-away-heartache.html</a></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is my family.</span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtlIuD9m9eCWr8r0wlyCVQqgMtM5NRB0dU0-kc0LyJY2WOFjwCWQoGJ1yOmZvutGu1hU10zO9nxHhYvyXwRr3I6t4TFs4NVZcAfds8HTvtchQygBJWVd8JaAMJHFIMHZtQkEiazceiDiZFq8qDYFatmRA_wE58OSPmtwekowbPUuB4NGzsbwsF7kqI7Kz/s1775/DaleLei.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1775" data-original-width="1195" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWtlIuD9m9eCWr8r0wlyCVQqgMtM5NRB0dU0-kc0LyJY2WOFjwCWQoGJ1yOmZvutGu1hU10zO9nxHhYvyXwRr3I6t4TFs4NVZcAfds8HTvtchQygBJWVd8JaAMJHFIMHZtQkEiazceiDiZFq8qDYFatmRA_wE58OSPmtwekowbPUuB4NGzsbwsF7kqI7Kz/s320/DaleLei.jpg" width="215" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ16ZSz-mS4O-hIeO-EAxJMinV6MrUh5u6gKyputTkRFdV6d3KaJdGVRNlfP8hylVdelPbP8pIAeCResPX8d3g3gydOVozATyGlI2Pp8qdpN2eU7IgfFDWXiPMLPwO27JDVxHFzXHxVIjbL2fLIAwWmg7_UviL4W0oEPq8WJ36B_mEX_1JYt3m3qG54NpJ/s1775/CarlineKids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="1775" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ16ZSz-mS4O-hIeO-EAxJMinV6MrUh5u6gKyputTkRFdV6d3KaJdGVRNlfP8hylVdelPbP8pIAeCResPX8d3g3gydOVozATyGlI2Pp8qdpN2eU7IgfFDWXiPMLPwO27JDVxHFzXHxVIjbL2fLIAwWmg7_UviL4W0oEPq8WJ36B_mEX_1JYt3m3qG54NpJ/w400-h255/CarlineKids.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">These are photos of my hubby, looking joyful, and my nieces and nephew with Marcus, all surprisingly sitting together, mostly smiling and looking at the camera. For kids, that's a win!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If time permits, why don't you leaf through some of your old photos? Memories are good things, whether happy or sad. They show the path we have taken to get where we are.</span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-49187496114944359162023-06-30T20:25:00.001-07:002023-06-30T20:25:30.707-07:00A quick short note<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Hey there, Peeps!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just a quick note to tell you I'll be in Anaheim this Sunday, July 2nd, with my Big Booth o' Books. Look for me from 11-3 at the Ebell Club!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPqBzoQ6-v4C3tf2xet4o48gUJxnJz0EC5Y7gbjfHtvwQRveJqXXbgVZ9pvgAcdwcxTRP8UbO8ixCdkENjg6emMU2xgvaJYESP8QkoXegbYoT8tzd7Wp96pKojl4UNy8U6007dvZZkBOLIWFt0mzuzCWyVQLSOgQAObDalwKX_wkDXr8IPKq6E1T1qADv/s2048/StarsnStripes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmPqBzoQ6-v4C3tf2xet4o48gUJxnJz0EC5Y7gbjfHtvwQRveJqXXbgVZ9pvgAcdwcxTRP8UbO8ixCdkENjg6emMU2xgvaJYESP8QkoXegbYoT8tzd7Wp96pKojl4UNy8U6007dvZZkBOLIWFt0mzuzCWyVQLSOgQAObDalwKX_wkDXr8IPKq6E1T1qADv/w640-h640/StarsnStripes.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hope to see you there!</span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-3986033449488859592023-06-19T18:08:00.000-07:002023-06-19T18:08:03.562-07:00Happy (and contemplative) Juneteenth!<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">These blog posts are usually done commando-style, as in I don't spend a lot of time crafting my words, so I'm hoping this turns into something coherent.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's Juneteenth today and I'm thinking about it. Or maybe it's more like noodling (a step up from thinking) or even contemplating (exponentially increased thinking).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">First of all, I'm looking forward to the day when the holiday has an official song and specific decorations and activities--I know these things are superficial and yet they give a holiday a "yes, this is an official established holiday" feel. Apparently, red food is featured for Juneteenth, so I'd love to see red velvet cakes and strawberry soda at the front display of my local grocery store. It's past time for national traditions and observances.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIooDswky4hUgC041Xa1GBLtgQtH15s864P1o-4IwwbnPBpYKPchw26ltHlvsUrS38jJiEMDHTNF-_viccXo4pNscJUePQr8KlB9p-IJquyWz-ZXuoCshA3dxOSKwjwFHqISApNwDRvCIK_bgkfF0tHPhJ84cBWW_h58ttWnys-JAE2SVm5aa4TSUKz6bZ/s960/juneteenth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIooDswky4hUgC041Xa1GBLtgQtH15s864P1o-4IwwbnPBpYKPchw26ltHlvsUrS38jJiEMDHTNF-_viccXo4pNscJUePQr8KlB9p-IJquyWz-ZXuoCshA3dxOSKwjwFHqISApNwDRvCIK_bgkfF0tHPhJ84cBWW_h58ttWnys-JAE2SVm5aa4TSUKz6bZ/w400-h400/juneteenth.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">(As a complete side note, I used to enjoy strawberry soda and vanilla ice cream floats with my grandfather and now I want one.)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Second of all, I'm thinking about the meaning of "systemic" racism and why so many people bristle at the term and insist that America is no longer racist and everyone is born with the same chance at success and if anything, black people get more advantages because of Equal Opportunity laws and quotas and so forth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I don't consider myself a scholar on the subject, I'm only an observer of what happens around me, and I see it (like everyone else) through the lens of my own experiences. Here's what I have experienced:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My parents were racially biased. They weren't white supremacists, they just discounted the abilities of black people. My mother was fond of saying, "It's not their fault, they can't help the way they are." So when I married Dale, they had opinions about my mixed-race marriage. But I know these people and know that they would not have had the same opinions if I had married an Asian man, or Hispanic, or Indigenous. That would have been seen as exotic and exotic is always welcomed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the time, I brushed it off as being hypocritical and didn't give it much more thought. We already had a contentious relationship and I had stopped looking for their approval. But lately I'm asking why? Why was a Japanese spouse okay and a black spouse not? If it was about race, why wasn't it about all races?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think I know the answer: because historically black people were slaves and even though they were freed, it didn't alter the fact that they had been treated as less than human. Even though my parents were not alive during the Civil War, even though slavery was no more than words in history books, the idea persisted. Black people were property and property does not think or dream or feel, and "they can't help it."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once I start going down this path, I begin thinking in bigger and broader terms about our various societal systems. Systemic means "fundamental to a predominant social, economic, or political system." The most important thing about it is that it's so ingrained in a society that no one recognizes it. My parents would never have seen the historical footprint in their biases. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Think about Wall Street. The people who started businesses and built corporations and took them to the stock market originally were white European men, speaking English, playing golf, wearing structured suits and ties. Women breaking into that world had to wear structured skirt suits to be taken seriously (and forget golf--even when they could get into the country club, they have to hit from the women's tee). Men (and women) of color had to abandon the formal wear of their countries and put on suits, play our games, speak our language. We don't even think about this, we just accept that this is the uniform for doing business.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What else did we inherit from the patriarchy that we don't need anymore?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">All because Juneteenth made me think and noodle and contemplate. I guess that's how I observed the holiday today.</span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-50595859107638851132023-05-10T17:38:00.000-07:002023-05-10T17:38:09.361-07:00A brief interlude and long post while I try to catch up<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Hi, there! Long time no post, eh?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My apologies. For being enormously busy, I've felt like there wasn't much for me to talk about, until now. So let's get down to it...what's happening?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This Saturday, I'm having a Very Peri Sale online. That's right, my Peri Minneopa Mysteries are on sale. The first book in the series, Freezer Burn, is yours to grab for free. The other four books (yes, ALL FOUR) are 99 cents apiece. Five books for $3.96! I'm pretty sure you can't order anything from Starbucks for under $4, unless it's a coffee, plain and tall.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOW_aefY0vJWN_xAig_4JSgi2bKzF5MM4qqtARQjOpno85eoGPhCiqbmq3dAMSvEZ3sbKkbPuMkipDTKVS44FmJLLf2Q6_YHxZXs7XWGeZYuqerjBzdzOmH4Xhxk-h37DtWR7rMfZEMR4FxylHYc4Qb0_lyuv9HA1ZOKIZzTf3oqiKRGn61-8NF9lxAQ/s1637/KindleDealMay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1187" data-original-width="1637" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOW_aefY0vJWN_xAig_4JSgi2bKzF5MM4qqtARQjOpno85eoGPhCiqbmq3dAMSvEZ3sbKkbPuMkipDTKVS44FmJLLf2Q6_YHxZXs7XWGeZYuqerjBzdzOmH4Xhxk-h37DtWR7rMfZEMR4FxylHYc4Qb0_lyuv9HA1ZOKIZzTf3oqiKRGn61-8NF9lxAQ/w400-h290/KindleDealMay.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But that's not all in the online world...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm performing an experiment with IngramSpark. I'm packaging all of the Dragon Shadows Trilogy as one e-book, PLUS adding a bonus short story with it, for $7.99. I know what you're thinking. Those books are currently 99 cents on Amazon for Kindle. Why would anyone pay almost $8 for all three, even if there is an exclusive short story included?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm going to tell you a secret: I'm planning to raise the Amazon prices. That 99-cent-deal was to try to hook as many readers and get as many online "deals of the day" as I could. Now it's time to up the price and charge what they're worth.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6nu1e7oU1hLFcWXAOULi72trVo_yMa5tQ-cxmTJK9nneQDX247aCKbh97imYaMw5VBdf4c9JxxDSZD9WyQAl0j8A1Yzojg3WSqjK1UBYQqlKj7J9kFimpNjy1R97nR2ZlNbRODKYbY07alVB-t8K91S4zZxv4OOQ_mJmiX1Rb78K5TBEjLlyJePtZA/s2725/Dragon%20Trilogy%20Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2725" data-original-width="1825" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB6nu1e7oU1hLFcWXAOULi72trVo_yMa5tQ-cxmTJK9nneQDX247aCKbh97imYaMw5VBdf4c9JxxDSZD9WyQAl0j8A1Yzojg3WSqjK1UBYQqlKj7J9kFimpNjy1R97nR2ZlNbRODKYbY07alVB-t8K91S4zZxv4OOQ_mJmiX1Rb78K5TBEjLlyJePtZA/w268-h400/Dragon%20Trilogy%20Cover.jpg" width="268" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The plan is to release the trilogy on May 16, but we'll see if I get the short story completed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here in the physical realm, things are happening, too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Friday, May 19th, I will be the breakfast speaker at the <a href="https://www.cfwc.org/" target="_blank">California Federation of Women's Clubs</a> Convention, being held at the Doubletree by Hilton by the OC Airport. I'm honing my speech (in my head) every 20 minutes or so. I hardly ever speak from notes--I find that even when I write them all out, I don't look down at them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once I am finished speaking and selling books, I hop in my car, pick up my horse trainer and drive to Scottsdale, AZ where I compete at the AQHA Level 1 West Championships. Dhani will already be there. We get there on Friday, ride Saturday, drive home on Sunday. This gives me about a half-a-day to prepare my house for my guests to arrive and spend a week going to Disneyland. They will be here from Monday until Saturday, where the hubby will take them to the airport because I'll be...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In Yorba Linda, at the Expressions event. Music, a food truck, and vendors--and I'm the only author. I usually sell anywhere from 12 to 24 books in this 4-hour block of time. Why do you need to buy your paperback directly from me? Because I discount it and autograph it. There, you have no more arguments.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7hRG7fxEjHP-Zon764VsMvll16by2mW3sUNCiyh6B_h6c_U1Lz92apEfY4e-dn4rgQBPwBT3YPnwR5ppdm4HZludz6gLZnVn7SVQQAbPJgr4cngHreSNiMwPHizKCkb2E2bYfaVi1uPst6dTg_9y0D-JdCCHXimc0SQZ7fjaV3q-Dd8nfaT0CEAcZA/s1080/Expressions%20(Instagram%20Post%20).png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY7hRG7fxEjHP-Zon764VsMvll16by2mW3sUNCiyh6B_h6c_U1Lz92apEfY4e-dn4rgQBPwBT3YPnwR5ppdm4HZludz6gLZnVn7SVQQAbPJgr4cngHreSNiMwPHizKCkb2E2bYfaVi1uPst6dTg_9y0D-JdCCHXimc0SQZ7fjaV3q-Dd8nfaT0CEAcZA/w400-h400/Expressions%20(Instagram%20Post%20).png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But I'm not done. In June, I'm at the Placentia Shop Small Boutique at the Placentia Round Table Women's Club. I did this event in December, had a lot of fun, and sold a lot of books. I'm looking forward to it!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof5hcGvqPky0aaXJsLzhesh-hm3zOY5y2dGH2QjSb0J-eMoPhgPl9J5vwpyxdZf2ieKI2ENzOUJckToQA71zCXkBjmcaCxOl7WhP9n1AXRiB-D25BrI3h-QawYxrt3h_0a-n0akhe-Sg12dEZyH9sb-SQZAceevBnRfsd04GKgrZzamtkulALVaCCFg/s1500/SummerBanner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof5hcGvqPky0aaXJsLzhesh-hm3zOY5y2dGH2QjSb0J-eMoPhgPl9J5vwpyxdZf2ieKI2ENzOUJckToQA71zCXkBjmcaCxOl7WhP9n1AXRiB-D25BrI3h-QawYxrt3h_0a-n0akhe-Sg12dEZyH9sb-SQZAceevBnRfsd04GKgrZzamtkulALVaCCFg/w400-h400/SummerBanner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If all that sounds busy, it is. I have lists of lists, to check off what to do on what day to keep me organized for each thing. In the meantime, there's been one extra item added to my calendar:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have to get a biopsy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've had dots in my left breast for a couple of years now. The doctors monitor them every 6 months. At my last mammogram, the tech said if they still haven't grown, I can go back to yearly mammograms. She left the room to consult with the radiologist.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">You know it's not good when the radiologist follows her back into your exam room. My dots had grown.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There's a large probability that they are benign. If they are not, there's a 99.99% probability that it's completely curable. I'm currently waiting for them to call and schedule the biopsy which doesn't sound like fun but they promise me will be "almost" painless. I do wish one of the shots they'll give me is bourbon. I feel like I have Schrodinger's breast. Until the biopsy is done and results are in, I have cancer and I don't have cancer. No one ever asked the cat how he liked being in that box, but I know how he feels.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I wasn't going to mention the whole biopsy thing at all, but you're going to hear about it one way or another, as in, "Whew, I dodged a bullet," or "Hey, could you just take a deep breath with me and tell me it's all okay." I might as well let you know that if you're talking to me and I look distracted, I might be picturing myself in a box with a cat.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">At the moment, I can't worry about it. I got too much to do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If you're in the area, come by and see me at my booth. If you're far away, do check out my online happenings. And take good care of yourself.</span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-563481897664786482023-02-21T23:27:00.000-08:002023-02-21T23:27:06.068-08:00A brief diversion on writing<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">I was oh-so-honored recently to be one of the guest speakers at the <a href="https://writersconference.com/sd/" target="_blank">Southern California Writers Conference</a>, held over President's Day weekend in San Diego. I did my best to interest and inspire the crowd, and they seemed to like me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="355" src="https://giphy.com/embed/26gskRA7w2OfYy26Q" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/oscars-academy-awards-oscars-1985-26gskRA7w2OfYy26Q">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the Q&A portion of the program, my buddy Rick Ochocki asked about my writing style/voice, saying that within the many genres I've written, my voice seems different for each one. It's true--my humor books are light and conversational, my mysteries are more excited and driving, and Rick pointed out that my fantasy trilogy is sensual in style.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I thought I was writing in the dreamy style of the fairy tales of my youth, but sure.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My answer was that I read across genres, and I learn to recognize and incorporate the style of whatever genre I am writing.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But I started to look at what Rick called "sensual writing," and here's what I believe: when I write any kind of romantic/dreamy book or scene, I'm looking at tension. Many people are hooked into a story when there is tension of any kind, from the tension building in a chase scene to the tension building between two people as they fall in love. Or at least in lust. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The best tension in the world is that moment, that breath, before the next thing happens. The lovers are so close, they can feel each other's heartbeat--you know they will kiss. The hero raises the bomb's wire to cut--is it the right one?--you know it will be. The moment is a microsecond.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Imagine your favorite food. You raise the fork to your mouth. The aroma fills your olfactory sense. The fork full of lobster/chocolate/etc. touches your tongue lightly, barely brushing your tastebuds. You know how it will taste, but this small slice of time divides your life into before and after. Before you experienced deliciousness and after you indulged in it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="294" src="https://giphy.com/embed/97ZWlB7ENlalq" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/eating-eat-eatting-97ZWlB7ENlalq">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And it is only a microsecond, a breath, half a heartbeat. You can't hold the fork up without biting down eventually. You can't make that moment last.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">That's what I try to write, from that breath to the next. I'm not interested in the mechanics of bodies, and I'm too clinical to enjoy flowery euphemisms. I want to know how each character feels in that moment before they indulge...in anything.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So, Rick, that's a more complete answer. Hope it helps.</span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-53954665756760946742023-02-03T18:01:00.000-08:002023-02-03T18:01:00.145-08:00Just one week<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> This is the end of a long road. Who knew that I'd be telling one story across three books, for three hundred thousand words? Give me just a moment to say, "I'm amazed."</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7ZBxJnCuVs9O0AK0HBFF19_1yuU9tZ4pz3yLTaaAH5hq3DNCCAzfphOz6gz60YZV8X-wwmI_SGa9AgwjXjSa7sPp52-CAHd9hJrwW54nVT_VkiX-yiuBvvZvxwDbn4M4ozS3aZgcOh5ib6UnvDjEerxR5u5Hmnf3QMZk737EXsAGiNQ5pfi9Dpw72Q/s2073/TeaseDay4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1736" data-original-width="2073" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7ZBxJnCuVs9O0AK0HBFF19_1yuU9tZ4pz3yLTaaAH5hq3DNCCAzfphOz6gz60YZV8X-wwmI_SGa9AgwjXjSa7sPp52-CAHd9hJrwW54nVT_VkiX-yiuBvvZvxwDbn4M4ozS3aZgcOh5ib6UnvDjEerxR5u5Hmnf3QMZk737EXsAGiNQ5pfi9Dpw72Q/w640-h536/TeaseDay4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Join me next Friday for the release! In the meantime, pre-order your copy here:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/">https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/</a></span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-80527604788873980812023-01-08T17:54:00.001-08:002023-01-08T17:54:18.505-08:00What's new, Pussycats?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Well, 2023, for one, right?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm hoping your new year has gotten off to a boffo start. If I use "boffo" enough, can I bring it back into fashion?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My fantasy trilogy, Dragon Shadows, is coming down the home stretch and I couldn't be more excited! You can pre-order your copy of the last book NEW DRAGON SOARING here:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/">https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Or you can wait until its release on Friday, February 10th and buy it then.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">"But Gayle, I don't want to wait," you plead.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I know, and I aim to please. NEW DRAGON SOARING is complete and copies are on the way to my humble abode. Join with me in praying that they arrive by January 27th because on January 28th, I will be at the "Handmade with Love" festival presented by the Yorba Linda Arts Alliance Foundation from noon to 4 pm at the Yorba Linda Town Center.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here's the flyer:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDg9IVvXUZw9CwTXjjdM3TdsnZZ6efMaeiFF_nk6VvRe0wKQUVlXyoHZPpeYoq2V-l5cQsNAsfaCMhwqh_tgnI7KzbzVPhcDqduhqWBxrE2azvuAVTphZ53ApzqmxuV4FfKGQ-_Wji2o05wQ-kh-53gsvG0p4piPunSzFAd-LrPofLkd_oFVO3mSdYTA/s1252/town%20center%20January%2028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1252" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDg9IVvXUZw9CwTXjjdM3TdsnZZ6efMaeiFF_nk6VvRe0wKQUVlXyoHZPpeYoq2V-l5cQsNAsfaCMhwqh_tgnI7KzbzVPhcDqduhqWBxrE2azvuAVTphZ53ApzqmxuV4FfKGQ-_Wji2o05wQ-kh-53gsvG0p4piPunSzFAd-LrPofLkd_oFVO3mSdYTA/w491-h640/town%20center%20January%2028.jpg" width="491" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If you're local (or local enough) I hope to see you there!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If, for some insane reason, you haven't gotten 'round to getting the first two books, here are those links (or contact me to get your own autographed copies):</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/">https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Moon-Dragon-Falling-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B6QMB2WZ/">https://www.amazon.com/Moon-Dragon-Falling-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B6QMB2WZ/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Otherwise, my next adventure will be in February at the Southern California Writers Conference in San Diego, where I shall have more copies available.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Life is delicious, Peeps. Savor it.</span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-3408014396891586902022-12-18T12:00:00.003-08:002022-12-18T12:00:19.124-08:00A brief diversion -- and a Very Merry Christmas to you!<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">When I began writing the annual Christmas letter, it bugged me that it was a separate piece of paper stuffed into the card. Maybe I've got a quirk or two, but I wanted my cards to be all-encompassing. After searching about online, I decided to do a tri-fold brochure style, photos on the outside and the letter on the inside. This had the added benefit of keeping my yuletide ramblings to a single page. I bought the blank brochure stock, then found out my printer didn't like it. To my dismay, neither did Staples. They told me I'd have to take it to a printer, who wanted to print a minimum of 500 copies at an exorbitant price.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Enter VistaPrint. All I had to do was put my handiwork into two .jpg files and format it in their brochure template. The first few years were rocky, because I kept getting the letter upside down, which of course bothered me immensely. I at last got it right, and right it shall remain.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This year's cards have been properly mailed out, so I will share my good wishes here. (PS. If you want a physical copy, just email me your address and I shall send one off!)</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFBOmPwrq7ycRhDhzM0lAXvHKBbroMAgxpICXCIkhhSyDmYvxVf9sQM0ulV9KLGxCFICGppxZG3Lz54twXmlomOaIfK4xOwwO7oq2FvmgaJskEPzkiCupl_P4UmZfq-JvpS44YjOBPFXXIWfdF2XyhuGgCJs3uVo5P8ig-xUFC4G5ydXv5NHLsgreqA/s2279/xmascardpix22TOP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: red; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="2279" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitFBOmPwrq7ycRhDhzM0lAXvHKBbroMAgxpICXCIkhhSyDmYvxVf9sQM0ulV9KLGxCFICGppxZG3Lz54twXmlomOaIfK4xOwwO7oq2FvmgaJskEPzkiCupl_P4UmZfq-JvpS44YjOBPFXXIWfdF2XyhuGgCJs3uVo5P8ig-xUFC4G5ydXv5NHLsgreqA/w608-h278/xmascardpix22TOP.jpg" width="608" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvchYkbSwr69yYCldriLb47ZHVI3BP8Q2Y-kufVMQkvfl-H_Nhf7oNJXoOmhBJAxFhq2VPgfJFa6J02zfUbwIROGj9hSVLB8u0W3v87A2CF7LTj0kH1NIBfjQYj5-EJVNApnD0zlZhCiM1yXCBLwIYsVMzFAaCmSUHf4HwRSXjBbgtc5rEEYyJrcNnog/s3061/xmas_2022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3061" data-original-width="1991" height="815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvchYkbSwr69yYCldriLb47ZHVI3BP8Q2Y-kufVMQkvfl-H_Nhf7oNJXoOmhBJAxFhq2VPgfJFa6J02zfUbwIROGj9hSVLB8u0W3v87A2CF7LTj0kH1NIBfjQYj5-EJVNApnD0zlZhCiM1yXCBLwIYsVMzFAaCmSUHf4HwRSXjBbgtc5rEEYyJrcNnog/w530-h815/xmas_2022.jpg" width="530" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIgjwG81JiDcS7_5OLT5Bc_appL9EN9PI4AtxuxE1oPF1Y4Z78sCgomubqSJrWdO6LmeCNFkzQnQ1UaT8zSBb8hL7qhV4s9oOSAMWR2Km7TmXUnYn0Cy3HLPCiMrVVs_8wxFqZWAvgZwt9U73lnTOdM49O1WktX_wlELquSUReeMWWheEV-KjY3zK0Q/s2279/xmascardpix22BOTTOM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: red; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="2279" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCIgjwG81JiDcS7_5OLT5Bc_appL9EN9PI4AtxuxE1oPF1Y4Z78sCgomubqSJrWdO6LmeCNFkzQnQ1UaT8zSBb8hL7qhV4s9oOSAMWR2Km7TmXUnYn0Cy3HLPCiMrVVs_8wxFqZWAvgZwt9U73lnTOdM49O1WktX_wlELquSUReeMWWheEV-KjY3zK0Q/w615-h259/xmascardpix22BOTTOM.jpg" width="615" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-78542357925660289162022-11-20T18:41:00.001-08:002022-11-20T18:41:32.697-08:00Are you ready?<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">No, not for the holidays. I know better than to ask that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I mean, are you ready for Book 2 of the Dragon Shadows Trilogy? It's Moon Dragon Falling and it will be officially released on December 9th. Unofficially...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">On Sunday, December 4th, I will have a booth at the Placentia Round Table Women's Club (901 Bradford Ave) from 11-4. It is the Placentia Shop Small Boutique and I'm a proud vendor at the event. And because it's local and I will always love my local peeps, MOON DRAGON FALLING will be available in paperback for those who would like to continue to read about Lisette de Lille and her adventures as a noblewoman/pirate/dragon in the Caribbean.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLdS4wr6pw7apiT8sFxd-cKb_nWzAihAKwX-OWFz1GyrU2xNCeZ9V7_3UHV3jEW3IV-zVlJkqJ9qYqlFhKJExQ7hKk5ok0X9L4cTDUHeKdBofi5jU_B2uKYfq6ouafSrmDqquPT1figTx3Nc70ty1DzVz6yzgPU0rH8Ga9xsUyrIsbU9pgyJdAJ-_nQ/s1500/banner_art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLdS4wr6pw7apiT8sFxd-cKb_nWzAihAKwX-OWFz1GyrU2xNCeZ9V7_3UHV3jEW3IV-zVlJkqJ9qYqlFhKJExQ7hKk5ok0X9L4cTDUHeKdBofi5jU_B2uKYfq6ouafSrmDqquPT1figTx3Nc70ty1DzVz6yzgPU0rH8Ga9xsUyrIsbU9pgyJdAJ-_nQ/w400-h400/banner_art.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p>If you miss that opportunity, I shall also be at the Holiday Arts and Crafts Fair in the Yorba Linda Town Center (18421 Yorba Linda Blvd) on Saturday, December 10th from 4-8 pm. This event is held by the Yorba Linda Arts Alliance Foundation. You can pick up a copy of MOON DRAGON FALLING and read a bit of it over dinner at one of the nearby restaurants.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4wFR31c15uTKnlh3udWrHDYzuMQlUUNwcNN4d3YpiX-MZgNCbDmpY_y-v2-zOLXbV-m6wGn1YURgrF4eoCCunz8KIgahlCRb8uKh6qKMAjql1lxfwD_mmcGARGmdoQXocS5cu1mQGzNSMFgXBDEsDBE5cnvZ_lJzFdrBkuiEFL6OGhZVGFqM15Gy4A/s792/town%20center%20dec%2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="612" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil4wFR31c15uTKnlh3udWrHDYzuMQlUUNwcNN4d3YpiX-MZgNCbDmpY_y-v2-zOLXbV-m6wGn1YURgrF4eoCCunz8KIgahlCRb8uKh6qKMAjql1lxfwD_mmcGARGmdoQXocS5cu1mQGzNSMFgXBDEsDBE5cnvZ_lJzFdrBkuiEFL6OGhZVGFqM15Gy4A/w309-h400/town%20center%20dec%2010.jpg" width="309" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course, at both events, I'll have copies of the first book, BLOOD DRAGON RISING, as well as my Peri Minneopa Mysteries for sale, and of course, they will be discounted because (say it with me) I love my local peeps.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43zOl69X2LgkYXgaUGjkx360uI2RO7O82CaQYO2EImrlajnEL1rTe-W17fTgKvi4_z3L1znbgCBKU-sOL9C_Mgm9rBSOIJnn_YcC_J4IyfYB5krEuIDgz_qunC1csPsE2q8JfEyvUkQ6BHasVkNtAPO-TUcULFGM6btC-bkU5vysqRSmK3twX8owZsg/s2550/Moon%20Dragon%20Falling%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh43zOl69X2LgkYXgaUGjkx360uI2RO7O82CaQYO2EImrlajnEL1rTe-W17fTgKvi4_z3L1znbgCBKU-sOL9C_Mgm9rBSOIJnn_YcC_J4IyfYB5krEuIDgz_qunC1csPsE2q8JfEyvUkQ6BHasVkNtAPO-TUcULFGM6btC-bkU5vysqRSmK3twX8owZsg/w259-h400/Moon%20Dragon%20Falling%20cover.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What are reviewers saying about MOON DRAGON FALLING? Here's what D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer at Midwest Book Reviews thought about it:</span></p><div class="jb_0 X_6MGW N_6Fd5" style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 24px; padding-right: 16px;"><div id="yiv5464072339"><div class="yiv5464072339Section1"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyahoo_quoted_0021756908"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689ydp411eb049yahoo_quoted_9560126417"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689ydp411eb049yiv3093757365"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689ydp411eb049yiv3093757365yqt37893"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689ydp411eb049yiv3093757365ydp9b461cbcRTEContent"><div id="yiv5464072339ydpf8379a7cyiv1649631689ydp411eb049yiv3093757365ydp9b461cbcRTEContent"><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><i><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">"Moon Dragon Falling</span></span> is the genre-busting Book 2 of the Dragon Shadows series and picks up the story of Lisette de Lille, who is now pregnant and looking forward to marriage in the aftermath of a battle.</i></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Readers of the first book will recall that she is now a moon dragon, but she faces ongoing challenges from this transformation and her uncertainty about how to use her new abilities. The learning curve isn't easy, especially when she's with child and recovering from the events in Blood Dragon Rising.</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>To make matters worse, her love Tristan has fallen victim to a potion that has made him forget Lisette and her child. She must win him all over again—and apparently re-fight a too-familiar battle—to win back control over her life, future, and the life of her unborn child, the result of two blood dragons' union.</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Many elements of fantasy would seem to make Moon Dragon Falling appropriate for the fantasy genre reader. But, wait: is that a pirate injected into the story? And, how can Lisette embark on an effort to save her love and herself if she can turn from dragon back to a vulnerable human being at any given moment?</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>As the romance, confrontations, and unusual milieu coalesce, readers will find Moon Dragon Falling a powerful saga whose characterization and setting continually place it outside any pat definition.</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Replete with the action of a thriller, the fantasy elements of a dragon dilemma, and the romantic concerns of a new mother-to-be who must battle herself and the world around her bereft of her life's love, the story is designed to attract novel readers as well as fantasy genre followers and fans of a rollicking good read.</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>From dukes and kidnapping plans to firebrand Lisette's determination to once again quell the forces that threaten her happiness and world, GS Carline has created another compelling story that could stand alone, but more readily adds another chapter to the tale that prior fans will relish.</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><i>Libraries looking for strong examples of action-centered books that feature powerful female protagonists on the cusp of many changes will find Moon Dragon Falling recommendable to patrons who look for non-formula writing that steps out of its own definition as a 'fantasy' to reach out to and immerse other audiences."</i></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">So what are you waiting for? You can pre-order your copy online (paperback from any bookstore, or ebook on Kindle only), or you can add one of the dates above to your calendar and visit me for a discounted, autographed copy.</span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="yiv5464072339MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I can't wait!</span></span></p></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div class="jb_0 X_6MGW N_6Fd5" style="padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 24px; padding-right: 16px;"><div class=""><div class="qtd-body" style="background-color: white; border-left: 1px solid rgb(204, 204, 204); color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px; padding: 8px;"><div class="yiv5464072339yqt9340105184" id="yiv5464072339yqtfd85196"></div></div></div></div>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-13917060894120955392022-10-25T22:19:00.003-07:002022-10-25T22:19:52.930-07:00A Halloween tale to be told<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been working on the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/G-S-Carline/e/B0B6T92MQJ" target="_blank">Dragon Shadows Trilogy</a> and its release so relentlessly, I let my next project sit on the shelf. It's a little cozy novella featuring Hazel, an amateur mouse sleuth. The story is in its third act and will be finished soon, but before I could write one more scene, there was a story in my brain that wouldn't leave me alone.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A tale best told during All Hallows Eve, a tale best heard by candlelight. Sit back with a glass of port--or perhaps a smoked cocktail would fit better. <a href="https://insanelygoodrecipes.com/smoked-cocktails/" target="_blank">Smoked old-fashioned</a>, anyone? Enjoy.</span></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Ashes</span></b><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart’s
entire body trembled violently, making it difficult to hold his cell phone, much
less poke at the screen. After five failed attempts, he at last selected Jake’s
number and held the phone, shaking, to his ear.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
phone was silent as usual while it decided whether there was enough service
coverage to complete the call. He considered putting it on speaker but wasn’t
certain if his finger could find the button. Also, he feared letting anyone
else hear the conversation, even though he was alone in his apartment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alone…sort
of.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“C’mon,
c’mon, c’mon,” he panted as the phone rang. “Shit, Jake, pick up.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">A
groggy, guttural voice rewarded him. “S’up?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Get
over here. Now.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wha?”
Rustling noises cluttered the background, accompanied by a moaning yawn. “Dude,
I just woke up.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I
don’t care, come over. I need help. Need it bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Doing
what?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
ran his hand across his head. “I can’t tell you over the phone. But it’s bad,
Jake. I’m in trouble and it’s bad. Please.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Mm-kay.”
His friend did not sound convinced or hurried, but he was always true to his
word. “Gimme five and I’ll be on my way.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
ended the call and sat at the edge of his bed in the silence. He still shook,
although the quaking had localized itself to his knees. The bed rocked
underneath him, a quiet squeak reminding him of last night’s activities,
activities that had led him to the spot he was now in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He’d
swiped right on Tinder to what appeared to be the most beautiful woman he’d
ever seen. She was eager to meet, which made him uneasy. What if that gorgeous
creature was just a product of Photoshop?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But
she did not disappoint. He’d never seen a woman who turned every head in the
place as she did when she walked into the pub. Gossamer layers of a short wrap
dress revealed glimpses of toned thighs, the plunging v-neckline teasing at
full breasts. Her long blue-black hair swung about her shoulders, shiny and
thick, bouncing around her face without intruding upon it. The flow of her
hair, the ruffling of the dress as she moved made it look as if she might take
flight.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart’s
first thought leapt to song lyrics. <i>Raven hair and ruby lips.</i> He watched
her large dark eyes skim the room like a predator hunting for a meal. When she
spotted him, her mouth turned upward at the corners, and he felt a brief stab
of icy fear before lust took control of his body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Stuart?
I’m Phoebe.” She extended her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;">If
only I’d left it there, if only I’d left her there.</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;">
He rubbed his head, pressing his temples. In an abrupt move, he stood and
strode to the bathroom. His right hand caressed the doorknob, feeling the cold
metal. He turned it, felt the click of the gears, took a deep breath.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Sighing,
he let go and moved away. <i>If I look again, I might hurl.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Vigorous
knocking at the front door startled him and he ran to open it. Jake stood in
the hall with a curious expression.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So
I’m here,” he said. “What’s the deal?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Shh,
get in and be a little quieter, okay?” Stuart grabbed Jake’s arm and pulled him
inside. “We don’t need to wake the neighbors.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jake
shrugged. “Whatev.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I
don’t even know where to start.” Stuart strode across the living room and back,
pacing as he talked. “I did like you said and went on Tinder last night. Got a
date right away.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Great!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No,
not great!” He stopped. “Well, part of it was great. She was drop-dead, I mean,
I don’t know if there’s another girl that beautiful anywhere.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wow,
and she swiped right on you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
scowled at him. “Yes, thanks, she did. Actually, I was wondering that, too, but
she wanted to meet right away, so we agreed to Quincy’s. We had drinks, then
dinner, got along great, yadda yadda, then she says it’s time to go to my
place.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Whoa-ho,
that was fast.” Jake plopped onto the couch. “Did you two…?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Did
we! Best sex of my life.” Stuart sat beside him. “I mean, I’m a simple guy, got
maybe one button a girl’s gotta press. Phoebe found buttons I never knew I had.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Dude,
tell me you didn’t call me over here to brag.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No!”
Stuart jumped up and resumed his pacing. “Like, I thought she was really
enjoying it, but after we’d done it nine times—”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Wait.
Nine times?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Shut
up, it was crazy, we did it more than I thought was possible. Then, she takes
one of the candles we’d lit and says, ‘I’ll be back soon,’ and heads to the
bathroom. I asked her if everything was okay and she goes, ‘Really, you were
great, but I have a special itch that needs scratched.’ Goes into my bathroom
and shuts the door.” He stopped in the middle of the room, his shoulders
sagging, deflated.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
pointed toward the bedroom. “Go open the bathroom door and look.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jake
rose and did as he was directed. As he did, Stuart was hoping he had imagined
the entire thing and his friend wouldn’t see what he saw.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What
the hell?” Jake yelled from the bathroom.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I
couldn’t get that lucky,” Stuart mumbled and joined him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jake
was pointing at the bathroom floor. “Are these?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Ashes,”
Stuart said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Like…?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes,
like, human. Human remains.” Stuart waved his hand in the direction of the mess.
“You’ll observe the bits of bone.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I
don’t get it. She lit herself on fire with the candle?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Doesn’t
seem possible.” Stuart shrugged. “I didn’t think a candle would burn a human to
ashes. And I never heard any screams. Why didn’t she scream?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The
two men stood and studied what remained of Phoebe for several moments.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Now
what?” Jake said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“How
should I know? Do I call the cops?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Jake
stared at him. “And tell them what? ‘I’d like to report a case of spontaneous human
combustion.’”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
shook his head. “I’m stuck, Jake. This is either gonna end with me in prison or
on the front page of the tabloids.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Not
if there’s no evidence.” Jake rubbed his chin. “Get a trash bag and the broom.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart’s
eyes widened. He looked down at the remains, back up at his friend, then nodded
and went to the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Make
sure we get her clothes, too,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Ten
minutes later, they were at the front door, Jake jingling his keys and Stuart
holding the bag. Jake turned to Stuart, “Where are we—hey, what happened to
your hair?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I
don’t know.” Stuart opened the camera on his phone and held it up. His short
brown hair was stylishly scruffy, but now there was a white streak running
across both temples. He held the camera closer—there were lines at his eyes,
around his mouth that he swore he didn’t have yesterday. “Wow, last night was
rougher than I thought. I look like my dad.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Let’s
take care of this.” Jake pointed to the bag. “Maybe your face’ll relax.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It
was a half-hour drive from the apartment in San Diego to the southernmost side
of the Otay Open Space Preserve, another hour driving around to find a recessed
location to hide a bag, and another half-hour back to the city where Stuart and
Jake could sit silently at a bar and drink themselves numb.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Stuart
finally stumbled home sometime after midnight and passed out on the couch,
promising himself to sell his bed, end his lease, and move to Montana in the
morning.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-size: medium;">* * * * *</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Deep
in the brush not far from the US/Mexico border, a trash bag rustled in the
wind. It continued to flutter and puff as its contents expanded and stretched,
until a lithe graceful arm reached from the opening and pulled the bag apart. A
beautiful woman emerged, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and naked.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She
felt around the bottom of the bag and smiled. “How polite of him to include my
clothes.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">After
dressing, she walked out of the brush and toward the road. <i>That never gets
old,</i> she thought as she strolled along the pavement, feeling refreshed and
renewed. <i>And as long as mortal men are so easy, neither will I.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-39035884282671621072022-10-04T20:02:00.006-07:002022-10-04T20:03:33.654-07:00After a long trip, the destination looms<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The first book in my fantasy trilogy is being released this Friday. I've written the entire trilogy, over 300,000 words spread across three books. It feels like I just wrote them, and yet I began this journey in November of 2015. Seven years! Here's the original blog post in which I take the first step: <a href="https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2015/11/mrs-carline-builds-her-dream-dragon.html">https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2015/11/mrs-carline-builds-her-dream-dragon.html</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The story has gone through iterations of sometimes immense proportions. I began writing it in third person, changed it over to first person, and changed it back again. At one point, I believed I might have accidentally ended up in Hades, doomed to spend eternity rewriting a manuscript from first to third person and back again. The only good thing to come from that is there would be some new word invented meaning, "to do and redo a task over and over," like <a href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/Sisyphean" target="_blank">sisyphean</a>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gaylepovian: The act of relentlessly changing a story's POV until the writer's brain collapses.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is where the book started:</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbiyyv2eR6G818fBKO5_wEeU4c7i8_jM2mlX9lJ2NWX6cg0mKjXTy-ze4thPhr5Yzb5zt5FktI62X_tqfZUSotYNeu6uUojiD4i5tvdxOeL1rsLQlFeOTj0o0ZFKqwDQznm9l7OBpWlHOs176DMhKXoDxqoLrtagw8YNHV-V9Qv7MRqiMmXa0sp_Ptw/s4032/20221004_191643.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJbiyyv2eR6G818fBKO5_wEeU4c7i8_jM2mlX9lJ2NWX6cg0mKjXTy-ze4thPhr5Yzb5zt5FktI62X_tqfZUSotYNeu6uUojiD4i5tvdxOeL1rsLQlFeOTj0o0ZFKqwDQznm9l7OBpWlHOs176DMhKXoDxqoLrtagw8YNHV-V9Qv7MRqiMmXa0sp_Ptw/s320/20221004_191643.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeodyvqivy89Cl6uIWrqr84CgNmVUUfUE8x1UVCqvjYpUG9Lr_-SQZKQENpPurVC7BJgZd8egRC0Pn7OngvF33LyxWepjVtshdqjeIrfpM6wRCVgiwWN_y45jghPiKfNQhHXVcp-Gd0MDTyuKfx-Zs8e5oluD84ia6kdJpqxDkf6FjtjiKlk4LaijPw/s4032/20221004_191748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWeodyvqivy89Cl6uIWrqr84CgNmVUUfUE8x1UVCqvjYpUG9Lr_-SQZKQENpPurVC7BJgZd8egRC0Pn7OngvF33LyxWepjVtshdqjeIrfpM6wRCVgiwWN_y45jghPiKfNQhHXVcp-Gd0MDTyuKfx-Zs8e5oluD84ia6kdJpqxDkf6FjtjiKlk4LaijPw/s320/20221004_191748.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have an old boyfriend, Perry Kaufman, to thank for introducing me to used bookstores in Chicago, where I found this magnificent copy of <b>The Count of Monte Cristo</b>, revised and published in 1894.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I began writing a microscopic version of the count's story, gender-twisted to a tale of a young noblewoman who is betrayed by her so-called friends. I was thinking it would be perhaps a novella, but nothing more than a standard novel.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then the dragons came, dragons that arrived for a reason and refused to leave until the entire story was told in all the books and all the words.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">As with each book, I'm tremendously proud of its release and consider it my favorite. I've worked hard to help it find its readership and I hope they love it, too. If you read it and love it, I promise you will love the second book and the third.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And after the third book, who knows where else we may go?</span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-17901571591406020872022-09-08T11:57:00.003-07:002022-09-08T11:57:52.840-07:00The countdown begins<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> It's a month until BLOOD DRAGON RISING is released to the public. Here's what you should know about that:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. The Kindle version will be on sale for 99 cents for about a week. Its regular price will be $6.99, so get it while it's hot. You can still pre-order it on Amazon, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/">https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. The paperback version is available at any online bookseller, or you may order it from any physical store. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">3. The AUTOGRAPHED paperback version will be available at my author booth in Tri-City Park during the Placentia Heritage Day Festival on October 8, 2022. Stop by if you're in the neighborhood!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1o3-S0BMgfzf-b7w030JFwUwlozT8Pg0rJo6qLErkSbAjMRw75piLcpf1nDbcnS6BPwgtNImxGe0LqWbr3OG3H012_C-3p9haQ6bOacqk00VvYGvD4mKOCh5Ce0JD29MO529e6KNglgkXMjjrHJTgvo5oM76UfUFlQ-PDMy88-Sfd1_MBIMyj0E_6uA/s2550/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1o3-S0BMgfzf-b7w030JFwUwlozT8Pg0rJo6qLErkSbAjMRw75piLcpf1nDbcnS6BPwgtNImxGe0LqWbr3OG3H012_C-3p9haQ6bOacqk00VvYGvD4mKOCh5Ce0JD29MO529e6KNglgkXMjjrHJTgvo5oM76UfUFlQ-PDMy88-Sfd1_MBIMyj0E_6uA/w414-h640/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" width="414" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the meantime, here's another excerpt to tease you:</span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lisette had never witnessed an actual sword fight. Her own
training had been done with Jules and kept a secret from Mama. Even the most
vigorous matches she’d seen had the look of a dance. This was ruthless, no
fancy footwork or graceful thrusts. The men battled around the table, over the
bed and back toward the door, jabbing and taking wild swings, each aiming for the
other’s torso.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">She tried to find a safe corner, but it was nearly impossible.
As she backed around the table, attempting to avoid them, she became aware of
the dagger in her hand. She had not let go when she stabbed the Spanish pig.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The Spaniard had trapped Rocco against the wall. Rocco stepped
aside, tripping on the edge of her discarded gown. His leg slid out from under
him and slammed him to the floor. The Spaniard raised his sword to bring it
down on the captain’s vitals.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Without hesitation, Lisette leapt behind the stranger and
pushed the dagger into his back. It slid easily between bones through the meat
to the softness inside. She kicked the back of his knees and shoved him down
beside Rocco. He fell, his weight pulling the dagger out, leaving the hilt in
her grip. Blood covered the blade, up to her hand. She froze, staring at the
body, blood staining the Spaniard’s coat and pooling on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He groaned and attempted to stand. Rocco jumped to his feet
and put an end to the man’s complaints with a slash of his longsword. He ran
toward the door, turning at the last moment.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Thank you. Now, bolt the door behind me.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lisette continued to stare at the dead man. Blood formed a
ribbon of red around his waist and gathered under his arm. His last breath had
stopped the fountain. She was glad his face was turned away, where his eyes
could not see her. His sword lay just beyond his right hand.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Trembling, she looked down at the dagger, her heart pounding
viciously. The blood on the blade turned her stomach while adrenaline pumped
her with excitement. Her head felt light and her eyesight blurry. Above, the
sounds of swords and guns and guttural screams seeped into the room, but inside
these four walls, there was an absence of noise as if silence swallowed even a whisper.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Rocco told her to bolt the door, stay inside, but that seemed
impossible. The sounds of the battle frightened and intrigued her. If she
stayed one more moment, she would start screaming and never stop. She reached
across the dead man to take his sword, feeling its heft.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is not my fight. I have no experience. Well,
practically none. Julian taught me to fence, but we didn’t actually battle. Not
like this.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Still, she could not stay here without going mad. Desperation
took her out the door and up the steps. If she could get away from the dead man
and breathe fresh air, she might feel better.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">On deck, however, there were more dead men and less fresh air.
Her eyes watered from the stench of smoke and gunpowder and men and death. Most
of the fighting was on <i>El Águila Negro</i>,
but there were still a few Spanish sailors trying to claim the helm of Rocco’s
ship.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">A burly man in a uniform caught her attention. He was hacking
at the rope that held the mainsail. His attempt to disable the ship alarmed her—what
if she was stuck in the middle of the ocean with these brigands?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Stop that!” She stomped her foot.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">The man turned his head, spit the word, “wench,” and went back
to sawing at the ropes.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“I am not a wench. I am a lady.” She swept the long blade through
his midsection, squealing as she did. He crumpled, and she squealed again.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">This alerted another Spaniard, who ran to engage her, his eyes
wide. “You’re a girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Lady.” She slashed at him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He held his own sword up in defense and parried. His skills were
lacking, but he was keen on killing her, which kept her blocking his swings and
unable to advance. He had backed her to the helm and around the wheel when
Lisette tried a different tactic. She gave him a sly, coquettish smile and
lowered her sword a little. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“My, how strong you are,” she told him.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He smiled back, no doubt anticipating a very personal
surrender. Stepping into him, she pushed his blade away and brought her knee up
between his legs. He doubled in pain, and she struck upward, catching him square
in the chest. The tip of her sword hit bone, deflecting before sinking into his
body.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He fell and she found she was no longer shocked by putting her
blade through flesh. Her pulse racing, she looked around for more uniforms to
puncture.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Captain Rocco stood, mid-deck, bodies piled around. Men were
screaming on the galleon where Rocco’s crew slashed their way to any and all
treasure. His men who had remained on <i>L’Implacable</i>
set to work clearing the decks of the bodies, uniformed and pirate. The captain
glanced up and pressed his way through the carnage to the wheel, where she
stood.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Lisette met him, sword in hand and glaring in defiance. He
leaned into her, stinking of gunpowder, and sweat. His fingers caressed her
shoulder and traveled down her arm. She winced and glanced down, noting a line
of bright red running to her hand, and dripping from her little finger. He
wrapped his hand around the hilt of her sword. She let him take it.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Pretty good with a strange blade.” His voice was low. “You
seem to have a scratch.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">She looked back up at him. “It seems that way.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">“Let’s go back to the cabin and clean it up.” He picked up her
long shirttail and wiped at her face. “And dry those tears.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">She brought her hand up to her cheeks and felt the wetness,
now aware of the catch in her breath. How long she had been crying, she did not
know.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="ParaKDP"><span style="font-family: georgia;">He towered over her, and she swayed, her head spinning from
the fight and her body still pulsing with agitation. If the captain took her
now, she wouldn’t fight him—or maybe she would. Maybe she’d mount him in a
frenzy and enjoy it. Maybe she’d kill him. She no longer knew what she was
capable of.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">All
she could do was turn and walk down the steps, back to Rocco’s cabin, where
they would be alone. Behind her, the Spanish crew continued to scream.</span></span></p><p><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-84141220282760366312022-08-28T18:41:00.001-07:002022-08-28T18:55:37.173-07:00It's that season again<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> No, not pumpkin spice.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://giphy.com/embed/R1glmr5nvLa9uFKXEu" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/LifeLineAnimalProject-halloween-cats-fall-R1glmr5nvLa9uFKXEu">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's writer workshop season! Much like the start of the school year, September is when writing clubs and conferences want me to come and share what I've learned over the years. This year is exciting for a couple of reasons:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. I get to present "What's the Point? Story, Subtext, and Plot" at the California Writers Club of Long Beach in person. I love this workshop and really enjoy teaching it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The last time I taught at the CWC of Orange County, we were still Zooming. Long Beach is currently in a hybrid mode, so I'm sure a few folks will be remote, which is fine. If you're a writer in California, I recommend checking out this club--they've got 22 branches around the state. Here's the scoop on Long Beach:</span></p><p><a href="https://www.calwriterslongbeach.org/"><span style="font-family: verdana;">https://www.calwriterslongbeach.org/</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. I'll be teaching two new workshops at the Southern California Writer's Conference in Irvine. In addition to teaching "Something to Talk About: Speaking Publicly About Your Books," I'll also be presenting the spanking-new topics, "Avoiding Stereotypes, Cliches, and the All-Too Common," and "The End is Just the Beginning." I'm both excited and terrified of these new workshops. Developing new material is fun, but can I do it justice? Stay tuned and sign up to find out:</span></p><p><a href="https://writersconference.com/la/"><span style="font-family: verdana;">https://writersconference.com/la/</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Writer's Conference does cost to attend, however they have a discount code to help you out. Just use <span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;">“Scwcsd3622” without the quotes of course,</span></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hope to see you at one of these events!</span></span></p><p><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-69921702946984300082022-06-28T20:13:00.000-07:002022-06-28T20:14:18.173-07:00I got new blooms budding<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I once heard Willard Scott say, "When you're green, you're growing, and when you think you're ripe, you're rotten."</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFSip06V_0oXdkP4DzVNr1xQypawiiDJmNeiq9gO28e5OfeSlkO29edLwomRVEwrr4nF0YKM35ucSwJo4JBn5tfYALgwUM_geuvRkNFlNRYKSqZPtZYZSmB1BbQEvOzn8LXxqshwW9AdxNSpqEP3lC5_wYY58RQODKERXpBqlPEysolCxyCRuSsYUoQ/s4032/20220616_072845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFSip06V_0oXdkP4DzVNr1xQypawiiDJmNeiq9gO28e5OfeSlkO29edLwomRVEwrr4nF0YKM35ucSwJo4JBn5tfYALgwUM_geuvRkNFlNRYKSqZPtZYZSmB1BbQEvOzn8LXxqshwW9AdxNSpqEP3lC5_wYY58RQODKERXpBqlPEysolCxyCRuSsYUoQ/w150-h200/20220616_072845.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I probably put too many commas in that sentence, but it's a sentiment that has stayed with me and I believe its truth. The most ageless senior citizens I know are the ones who are always learning new things, re-examining life, and capable of being amazed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">What does that have to do with the release of my fantasy series?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In getting the three books ready for consumption, I've had to write the dreaded synopsis of each book, and a synopsis of the trilogy. It's true, the majority of authors can write 70-100k masterpieces and yet balk at writing 250 words to sum up the story. I'm definitely in that group.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Part of my difficulty is deciding how much to divulge. My fantasy holds secrets about the humans and dragons that I'm not certain I want to reveal immediately because I'd like the reader to be surprised. Hell, I was surprised when I wrote it.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJGDzGyiBIrMNSqXeYBsE8SOxUKLfccv3ZN_1wLGntOs3fpBKzVku2seJmhTnH91vJ8ug673jn3vbMpp5qXO5C0amdbTGOYn4HHf9LJduH4iYU_8V_gLNKEY-hOsIWXCIH-PclXIXBbjR35VWcdXd0AWqvYfI8d3Ye-CHke0Sit_4m3NyI2UaKqUBfg/s400/nowvoyager.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJGDzGyiBIrMNSqXeYBsE8SOxUKLfccv3ZN_1wLGntOs3fpBKzVku2seJmhTnH91vJ8ug673jn3vbMpp5qXO5C0amdbTGOYn4HHf9LJduH4iYU_8V_gLNKEY-hOsIWXCIH-PclXIXBbjR35VWcdXd0AWqvYfI8d3Ye-CHke0Sit_4m3NyI2UaKqUBfg/w200-h200/nowvoyager.png" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br />But then I sat down one afternoon to my usual TV addiction, Turner Classic Movies. They were showing the original trailer for "Now, Voyager," one of my favorite films. I'd seen the trailer before, but as I watched it again, I realized that they showed the entire film within the two-minute teaser, using a snippet of scenes from the whole movie. It dawned on me that many of the older films did this, showing pieces of the entire story, beginning to end.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My first thought was, "Why would anyone go to these films now that the whole thing's been revealed?" And then I understood why it worked.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If I had never seen the film, I'd still watch it because:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. These snippets have no context, so I'm just watching six seconds of dramatic dialogue or a fight or struggle--or even a humorous entanglement, and</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. If one of those snippets is at the end of the film, you can bet I'm going to watch for that scene. (Spoiler alert: The very last line of "Now Voyager" is in the trailer!)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A light bulb moment for my trilogy. I'm not saying I'm going to tell the whole story in the synopses. But I'm no longer worried about what I conceal and what I reveal, as long as what I reveal tempts a potential reader into picking up the book and turning the page, then looking for Book 2. Rinse and repeat for Book 3.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzwvpH5KX07zerCYXFF1PupN1gN5t_bRlSpzaSIvp4y2jpA4ipGtdPOTHoRJFRpv-yZdBEuXDMtCT3X5UHJxtfVT3hSywzOjSEW4YMyFicMYJoMJ96UXNuv1kkubk67-fNiKJFkb2ZldLlT_nuU6T8Vi2hWs4OpanHwvxPh_ZNbio89nxX-XMW64TyA/s2550/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzwvpH5KX07zerCYXFF1PupN1gN5t_bRlSpzaSIvp4y2jpA4ipGtdPOTHoRJFRpv-yZdBEuXDMtCT3X5UHJxtfVT3hSywzOjSEW4YMyFicMYJoMJ96UXNuv1kkubk67-fNiKJFkb2ZldLlT_nuU6T8Vi2hWs4OpanHwvxPh_ZNbio89nxX-XMW64TyA/s320/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" width="207" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>EXCERPT:</b></span></p><p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Would
she be able to kill him? She imagined trying to run the knife into his body.
There would be but one chance. If she hesitated, it would be worse than if she
never tried.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Eat now, she told herself. Escape later.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As
she reached for the potato, she looked up to see the captain standing over her.
She froze as she met his eyes. They were deep blue and set in a sharp, tanned
face. Dark curls framed his shaven cheeks and a short goatee encircled full
lips. His muslin shirt was open, revealing a curious amulet tied around his
neck with a dark cord. A golden hand with folded fingers and a heart in the
palm—protection against the Evil Eye. The heart was inlaid with a red stone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She
had expected an older man, grizzled, and scarred from battle. While mature, he
was muscled and good-looking. And stupid and cruel, she reminded herself. And
beneath her. A pirate.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She
met his glare with her own regal sneer. “Thank you, Captain. I was quite
hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He
picked up the pitcher and poured its contents into two goblets. “Rum?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">“Yes,
please.” As she extended her hand, he moved the goblet away. She stood and
reached again, and he continued to step away, keeping it just out of her grasp.
The entire time, his eyes never left hers.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Pining
for drink, she continued to follow him, staying a cautious distance away. As he
gazed at her she could feel heat rise in her chest, the blush spreading up her
neck to her cheeks. No man had ever dared to stare at her thus, not even Eric.
The corners of his eyes crinkled, no doubt at her embarrassment, though he did
not smile.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">At
last, she stood by the window with him. The harsh midday sun exposed everything
without shadows. Still staring, he handed her the rum. She took the goblet and
moved back before taking a small sip. It burned but it also quenched.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">He
stretched his arm in a wide gesture. “Mademoiselle, welcome to the ship <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">L’Implacable</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">“The
Merciless.” Lisette nodded. “A fitting name for a pirate ship.”<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> * * * * *</span></p><p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><b>AVAILABLE IN KINDLE AND PAPERBACK OCTOBER 7, 2022</b></span></p><p class="PBPara" style="margin-right: 8.65pt;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>PRE-ORDER IT HERE:</b> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/">https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/</a></span></p><br /><p></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-90793421294581536742022-04-01T22:36:00.001-07:002022-04-01T22:36:15.144-07:00The countdown has started<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The fantasy trilogy is nearing completion. All three books are written. The first is ready to go, the second is in the hands of my fabulous editor, and I'm completing the edits on the third so I can hand it off to her for her valuable insights (and corrections).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've also figured out the release schedule, far apart enough for my sanity while being close enough to keep readers captivated--I hope! </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So look for Blood Dragon Rising in October 2022.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Bg37N0JsP9mZJOLFaA395_qhXP3unKeLQlFtfrALaAkWe8UYUhDaqwzZRxeyEFO18Sw_fgW0vmbI5FZkZjecnJReOpS4nMRYl_BPcvAoGkXOGbtRIHPDnYxfE0MTLcKw26sXyo5MT13Y7OE1pt0SvPsOMq9yQJo2Z78NQocq5yGeeMeEtN5Uw-DsQ/s2550/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK8Bg37N0JsP9mZJOLFaA395_qhXP3unKeLQlFtfrALaAkWe8UYUhDaqwzZRxeyEFO18Sw_fgW0vmbI5FZkZjecnJReOpS4nMRYl_BPcvAoGkXOGbtRIHPDnYxfE0MTLcKw26sXyo5MT13Y7OE1pt0SvPsOMq9yQJo2Z78NQocq5yGeeMeEtN5Uw-DsQ/w259-h400/Blood%20Dragon%20Rising%20cover.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Moon Dragon Falling in December 2022.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Gf5dHe0XjGvrevIquzATR8Kniog0bEDNI66_jImdzfR39YUzhX4OSpEtubW8h6fj_Aflfk7Uf4aPL3J9sjd9poSx5Q2hMqBkb6pGzkx15apoI5px0MOX_7fqMDwUvITqEgYfKJEYqS5ZA8VxewCrDi7tPkMKEB12kpbcspZ7y-jfthD57ioMygvihg/s2550/Moon%20Dragon%20Falling%20cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Gf5dHe0XjGvrevIquzATR8Kniog0bEDNI66_jImdzfR39YUzhX4OSpEtubW8h6fj_Aflfk7Uf4aPL3J9sjd9poSx5Q2hMqBkb6pGzkx15apoI5px0MOX_7fqMDwUvITqEgYfKJEYqS5ZA8VxewCrDi7tPkMKEB12kpbcspZ7y-jfthD57ioMygvihg/w259-h400/Moon%20Dragon%20Falling%20cover.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And New Dragon Soaring in February 2023.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBERY-tKbcGiS5mFgary876bR9l5sdGrVCnMj5-EWghN5jBWNuNUM-Omv6_bX6r9mLBTwV9Jt6jtitpdBeolww9qgsENl2AXpXZW92SiYP4MtPBaSquTl8q8qD93h-5hpSI5i6Jxbpp61CKM85MlmwQ4L3k5YIwZ11Vi9iyooLQm94UsMgZYUlmusoYQ/s2550/New%20Dragon%20Soaring%20w%20islands-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2550" data-original-width="1650" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBERY-tKbcGiS5mFgary876bR9l5sdGrVCnMj5-EWghN5jBWNuNUM-Omv6_bX6r9mLBTwV9Jt6jtitpdBeolww9qgsENl2AXpXZW92SiYP4MtPBaSquTl8q8qD93h-5hpSI5i6Jxbpp61CKM85MlmwQ4L3k5YIwZ11Vi9iyooLQm94UsMgZYUlmusoYQ/w259-h400/New%20Dragon%20Soaring%20w%20islands-3.jpg" width="259" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Color me excited.</span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-24263742228733735722021-12-19T23:26:00.000-08:002021-12-19T23:26:09.099-08:00The annual card<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">The Christmas cards have been mailed to as many addresses as I have collected. I began writing a Christmas letter when Marcus was around six, I think. I realized I was writing the same news in each card and decided, hey, maybe I could write a letter instead.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Little did I know it was a gateway drug to my career as a professional writer.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">But for those of you who have not given me your address but want a card just the same, here you are:</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg628UZSjfU9QxoGanHXrvwT5Ffm7OWFOuZwV4YgIJNDgOdhKA1ruyGer6xQCmKQfuyjzjbCAbQiYY2yfe79lnaYXR6QvkqtyEer6pC0IlUqAgxYpYXn2tvQt30j8PjPaJA7v2CjeNjEWCE2ZoVoQG1b9CqhCGdSfefbUmqw0hmBJC9jqzfrnQH4kAnrA=s2337" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1062" data-original-width="2337" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg628UZSjfU9QxoGanHXrvwT5Ffm7OWFOuZwV4YgIJNDgOdhKA1ruyGer6xQCmKQfuyjzjbCAbQiYY2yfe79lnaYXR6QvkqtyEer6pC0IlUqAgxYpYXn2tvQt30j8PjPaJA7v2CjeNjEWCE2ZoVoQG1b9CqhCGdSfefbUmqw0hmBJC9jqzfrnQH4kAnrA=w623-h282" width="623" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRqjylaQzGfUK9-xcjiUhjBnwTQBpAWVxDo_iHqsHXPMRRohj2hbVkexyjK_J1zmgiMhW2vozatbGHrDHQslqJvChoZ3vmzLugoNRQO77z2gMUS_zI77v7Wl6-dFc64zvSOyQCrcFSFeU53fczo1KjC2jzbR2lmz88HVkBCrzB8VRxbQjErQWZsUCSGQ=s2964" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2964" data-original-width="2026" height="817" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRqjylaQzGfUK9-xcjiUhjBnwTQBpAWVxDo_iHqsHXPMRRohj2hbVkexyjK_J1zmgiMhW2vozatbGHrDHQslqJvChoZ3vmzLugoNRQO77z2gMUS_zI77v7Wl6-dFc64zvSOyQCrcFSFeU53fczo1KjC2jzbR2lmz88HVkBCrzB8VRxbQjErQWZsUCSGQ=w558-h817" width="558" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd2oG2pA5maTvYhToXhHN72LhZhf0xbaZWhP5q1-aDnTHTnnc9sqJpu7VpYOJ7S_593Afh4gqvnO3bZWgltOmHe5Rl3YxuZMzzFr1Zg-UnopFTOOUkmiKceZxnEQ4vzc7IWj_-70mRJA-wIuAZQNyruuNj0AL71Q42HAGnhGGG15uZQNlBiEvElKyZTA=s2277" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="2277" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhd2oG2pA5maTvYhToXhHN72LhZhf0xbaZWhP5q1-aDnTHTnnc9sqJpu7VpYOJ7S_593Afh4gqvnO3bZWgltOmHe5Rl3YxuZMzzFr1Zg-UnopFTOOUkmiKceZxnEQ4vzc7IWj_-70mRJA-wIuAZQNyruuNj0AL71Q42HAGnhGGG15uZQNlBiEvElKyZTA=w607-h256" width="607" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>Merry Christmas to all, and to all a GOODnight!</b></span></p><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-26413451310724869082021-12-07T20:34:00.003-08:002021-12-07T20:34:34.479-08:00What do I do with the silence?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplDvPnG6TufTQ2Y8xsM7dKXh_HVJVnsH6QyhRvtNE9ysZhrdoMhdEih7FlGk4zUI8zLE_YILajvmkZ2ghPCNYn5_uK5F8ZkcWu2apzs2LbIyrrK7kIyxFJgvN83iJURY2bBXq5AqJjhk3/s2048/20211206_134049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplDvPnG6TufTQ2Y8xsM7dKXh_HVJVnsH6QyhRvtNE9ysZhrdoMhdEih7FlGk4zUI8zLE_YILajvmkZ2ghPCNYn5_uK5F8ZkcWu2apzs2LbIyrrK7kIyxFJgvN83iJURY2bBXq5AqJjhk3/s320/20211206_134049.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm trying to think of the last time I was completely without a pet in my home. I may have been in my twenties...my early twenties. I have had many pets, and have felt the pain of their passing, but this time feels different because in the past, there was always a pet waiting for me at home.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">This time there is no muzzle for me to caress, no ears to rub away the grief.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The Lady Spazzleton, our rescued golden retriever was old, so old that I feared every morning she would not rise from her bed. Duffy, our corgi was middle-aged and I expected he would live for at least another four or five years.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nothing of course happened the way I thought it would. Duffy had a degenerative disease. Lady Spazz had a cancerous growth. Lady died at home on her own terms. I had Duffy put down when I saw the resolute sadness in his eyes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And now there is silence in my house, a silence that has stolen my purpose.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I get up in the morning, I don't open the door to let dogs out. I don't fix doggy breakfasts and add Duffy's medicine and set the timer. I don't put the bowls in different rooms and close the door and wait for them both to finish. I don't coax them into the yard with cookies to keep them from arguing about each other's food and who got more.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">When I'm out of the house, I don't worry about getting home to let them out. I don't worry about being gone too long and having them miss me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">In the evening, I don't have to feed them again, or coax them into the yard, or leave the bedroom door open so they can sleep beside my bed.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now that I don't have to do all these things, what do I do? I brush my teeth and fix my hair and meditate and plan and feel adrift.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Once the holidays have ended and I quite feel the newness of 2022, I shall fill the house with fur again--perhaps a cat and a dog. But at the moment, I wonder how I shall live in such a life without pets.</span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-65272799729590974012021-09-06T18:42:00.002-07:002021-09-06T18:42:20.295-07:00I'm fired up!<p> <span style="font-family: verdana;">Last Saturday I taught one of my workshops to the California Writers Club - Orange County Branch. I've taught this workshop a fair number of times. It's called "Rhythm, Pace, and Amusement" and I'll tell you a bit of a secret: I didn't originate this workshop. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I mean, I did, but sort of the backdoor way. I was pitching workshops to Michael Steven Gregory, director of the Southern California Writers Conference and he said, "If I gave you a workshop called 'Rhythm, Pace, and Amusement' could you do something with that?"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Of course I can, Michael.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://giphy.com/embed/xUNd9DFxkaFO2R3ATC" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/heyarnold-hey-arnold-nick-splat-xUNd9DFxkaFO2R3ATC">via GIPHY</a></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So I put the thing together and the first few teachings felt shaky (to me) although the workshop participants said they enjoyed it. I got into the rhythm of it, eventually.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So when Mary Vensel White of CWB/OCB asked me to teach that workshop, I got my charts out and updated them (I always do this for every workshop), and...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">OMG, this is the BEST workshop I've ever taught!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe src="https://giphy.com/embed/r78PWhFmgOCcyCmAaI" width="480" height="343" frameBorder="0" class="giphy-embed" allowFullScreen></iframe><p><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/fallontonight-jimmy-fallon-tonight-show-tonightshow-r78PWhFmgOCcyCmAaI">via GIPHY</a></p>It is chock full o' practical information, and the kind of info that leads to discussion and that's a great workshop. The best part is that I get to update these charts again and teach it at the Southern California Writers Conference in Irvine in less than two weeks!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm also teaching my newest workshop, "What's the Point? Story, Subtext, and Plot." This workshop is my passionate plea to writers everywhere to ask themselves WHY they want to tell THIS story. Oh, and how to let the reader know why they want to read it. I pitched this idea hard to Michael and he said yes.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">So the conference is September 17-19 and I'm completely fired up to teach and I SO HOPE you'll join me!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe src="https://giphy.com/embed/JykvbWfXtAHSM" width="480" height="270" frameBorder="0" class="giphy-embed" allowFullScreen></iframe><p><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/natgeochannel-startalk-JykvbWfXtAHSM">via GIPHY</a></p>Here's the link: <a href="https://writersconference.com/la/">https://writersconference.com/la/</a></span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-88278645466032901392021-08-27T21:14:00.000-07:002021-08-27T21:14:45.524-07:00You are cordially invited<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFu0YIlz_4vgRUjtKJv8-XkNqltSeaL9dVO88p7bLZylmNTo3I2oDqR5RkSz2qTybQ6BqUbihE2_uBWMDf5olBnPvTaHjOfvXBU4v3vkbk22CR-PXXCkg6ac2klU-QrHgVNf2UlOAAVGS/s2048/2020-08-24+08.40.05.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFu0YIlz_4vgRUjtKJv8-XkNqltSeaL9dVO88p7bLZylmNTo3I2oDqR5RkSz2qTybQ6BqUbihE2_uBWMDf5olBnPvTaHjOfvXBU4v3vkbk22CR-PXXCkg6ac2klU-QrHgVNf2UlOAAVGS/s320/2020-08-24+08.40.05.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Dear Writers,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There are a couple of events I simply must invite you to in September. And by "Writers" I mean if you are a writer who is currently plugging away at this or that, <b>or</b> if you are someone who would like to be a writer but hasn't a clue how to start the process (hint: by writing).</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">First, I will be teaching a workshop on September 4th at the California Writers Club Orange County Branch. It will be a Zoom session so you can show up in your jammies. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I will be teaching "Rhythm, Pace, and Amusement," a workshop that delves into the nuts and bolts of how to tell whether your writing is engaging, your story well structured, and if you're injecting humor, some helpful hints about that.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here's the link to their Meetup, where they will give you the Secret Handshake for the meeting, which starts at 11:00 am:</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #0563c1; font-size: 14px; text-decoration-line: underline;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">https://www.meetup.com/Orange-Creative-Writing-Meetup/events/smcjmryccgbfb</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">If you want to learn more about organization, here is the link to their website:</span></p><p><a href="http://www.calwritersorangecounty.org/" style="background-color: #e3e3f4; box-sizing: inherit; cursor: pointer; font-size: 20px; max-width: var(--global--spacing-measure); text-decoration-thickness: 1px; text-underline-offset: 3px;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">http://www.calwritersorangecounty.org/</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="269" src="https://giphy.com/embed/XIqCQx02E1U9W" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/XIqCQx02E1U9W">via GIPHY</a></span></p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">After that meeting, you're going to be all fired up and wanting more, yes? And if you can't make it to the September 4th meeting, you're going to be kicking yourself and having a severe case of FOMO.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Have I got good news for you!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">September 17-19 is the Southern California Writers Conference in Irvine, California. It's two-and-a-half days of writing immersion. Learn about it, talk about it, feel for a moment that writing is EVERYTHING.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then meet us in the bar for a lot of laughter.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here's the link:</span></p><p><a href="https://writersconference.com/la/"><span style="font-family: verdana;">https://writersconference.com/la/</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I could wax poetic about this conference, but I'll just point to one of my many blog posts on the subject to try to convince you to attend.</span></p><p><a href="https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2017/08/if-you-dont-invest-in-yourself-who-will.html"><span style="font-family: verdana;">https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2017/08/if-you-dont-invest-in-yourself-who-will.html</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm teaching workshops there, too. One of them sounds familiar--"Rhythm, Pace, and Amusement." Do not be concerned about hearing a replay. Each time I teach a workshop I rework it so it's never quite the same.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The power of editing, peeps.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'll also be teaching a semi-new workshop, "What's the Point? Story, Subtext, and Plot." I taught this last February in (virtual) San Diego and got a lot of good feedback on it. It was fun and exciting to teach, so I'm excited again!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Please invest some time, if not some money, in yourself as a writer. I'd love to see you!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Cheers,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Gayle</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-0zOXaLyUoS8wBW8F63vlXjlw7eF-g0jGepuZzZeEVppPK6XAnwDSlbIwyaFUGh46yZR9fFpMwuVeg74eqQlFDcUfJfUpXW2gj-T62yoYJTfs8TuXoH_WKZGOb0Ydd7da2s5A6r2CJXM/s2048/2021-08-13+09.44.58.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-0zOXaLyUoS8wBW8F63vlXjlw7eF-g0jGepuZzZeEVppPK6XAnwDSlbIwyaFUGh46yZR9fFpMwuVeg74eqQlFDcUfJfUpXW2gj-T62yoYJTfs8TuXoH_WKZGOb0Ydd7da2s5A6r2CJXM/w400-h300/2021-08-13+09.44.58.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-21296871178928224932021-08-11T19:16:00.002-07:002021-08-11T19:16:25.218-07:00Editing magic tricks<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am currently writing the third book of the fantasy trilogy (again, WHY do they insist on being trilogies?) and I thought I'd pass on some insights into what works for me when I am writing a big fat book. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Unless you write like James Patterson with 45-page outlines and then send your interns off to finish it because you've already written the whole thing in your head, OR you write like Dean Koontz and perfect five pages before going onto the next five pages and there is no outline...</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://giphy.com/embed/fXET2zB5vsFjh0xwl7" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/zoefannet-onwaaard-mattvancil-mvbp-fXET2zB5vsFjh0xwl7">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">You may get stuck in your story at times.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It happens to the best of us. Some call it writer's block. We have an idea of where the story should go, and some key scenes that will be boffo for the reader, but we get lost in the woods of words and don't know how to get there from here. I actually heard a would-be writer once say, "I know all the key scenes, and the rest I'll just put in filler."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Don't ever do that. I will hunt you down and slap you if you do.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="392" src="https://giphy.com/embed/GyLc9e3hTYFWw" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/computer-GyLc9e3hTYFWw">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Here are some things I've done to avoid getting stuck:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. Re-read the story. If it's a long manuscript, I usually just re-read from the last action sequence. It's like jogging my memory, the way I retrace my steps when I've forgotten why I'm in the kitchen. I read it and think, "Oh, yeah, THAT'S where I was heading with this."</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. Have my character do something mundane. Eat a meal. Wash clothes. Take a walk. This makes my character go forward in their space, making it easier to get them where I want them to go. Ninety percent of the time I delete all the boring stuff, but every once in awhile I find that little nugget of a revelation/clue/foreshadowing that stays.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">3. There is the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soupy_Sales" target="_blank">Soupy Sales</a> approach (aka "and then the dragons came"). Soupy Sales was a guy with a kids' show in the 50s and 60s. At some point in the show, there would be a knock on the door and it would always be a surprise guest to mess with him. If you don't know what else to do, throw a surprise at your character. A visit from the suspect's mom. A door that leads to a room with a clue. An unexpected gryphon. Hit them in the head with a golf club (one of my favorite moves). Again, it might not stay in the manuscript, but it gets your character moving forward.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">And don't forget to treat this like that first blank page of your manuscript:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">1. This is a rough draft.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">2. No one will see it except me.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">3. I can start anywhere, even with "Okay, this is the story I want to tell," and ramble on until the tale starts coming out.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">4. Once I've typed the end, I'll have a better idea of where it should begin.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">5. I CAN'T EDIT A BLANK PAGE.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">There is one caveat to all of this: as you work your way through the stickiness, you may not find a way back to that boffo action scene you had planned. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's okay--there will be another boffo scene to replace it, one that's bigger and boffo-ier. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="giphy-embed" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://giphy.com/embed/KbeMMTRmTCF11CPLq1" width="480"></iframe></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://giphy.com/gifs/Channel7AU-farmerau-farmer-wants-a-wife-kapoof-KbeMMTRmTCF11CPLq1">via GIPHY</a></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I hope I've been helpful. Just remember, use what makes sense and discard the rest. As always, your mileage may vary.</span></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6973117169323556846.post-85948550208575063042021-07-10T18:00:00.001-07:002021-07-10T18:00:00.259-07:00Time to begin again<p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b>On Sundays we set our Intentions.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Journal about your goals.</span></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">What is your intention for this week?</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">What goals do you want to set for the week?</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">What does "success" look like for you this week?</span></li><li><span style="font-family: verdana;">What are your priorities this week?</span></li></ul><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Helpful hint: make certain your priorities and your goals are not at odds. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Good luck!</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOaWDcTGCWVAH1bhWdhd7UtBxP5OXi4BbUAyjlMNcewsLwHCMJhgTAWS7tWMfQo9rx6_b0vjpuRCCIkOSfff5wyqSrBFjRwkUuZuGMRBa-j5_iWgSj1HSqCCYuFUzRJXPSUzNrBElzNGL/s2048/20190503_154025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOaWDcTGCWVAH1bhWdhd7UtBxP5OXi4BbUAyjlMNcewsLwHCMJhgTAWS7tWMfQo9rx6_b0vjpuRCCIkOSfff5wyqSrBFjRwkUuZuGMRBa-j5_iWgSj1HSqCCYuFUzRJXPSUzNrBElzNGL/w480-h640/20190503_154025.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Gayle Carlinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15783449240138097315noreply@blogger.com0