Happy Halloween!

A friend of mine posted this to Facebook and I just thought it was so appropriate.



Creepy, kooky, mysterious, spooky, altogether ooky... but they know how to get their dance party groove on.


Or, if you'd like something a little more traditional, there's this.



Enjoy the day, any way you want to.

Giving it away: Friendship edition

Funny thing happened at the Placentia Heritage Day Festival on Saturday. I made up a nice sign to direct people to drop their business cards in a bowl for a chance at winning one of my fabulous prizes. I have several of those plastic holders to set on a table and hold signs, so I packed one for the sign with the prices on it and one with the "Don't Just Stand There, Win Something" sign.

When I unpacked at the park... one of the plastic holders was broken. Annihilated. Unfixable.

So I didn't put out the Win Something sign and I didn't give anything away.

Damn.

But their loss is possibly your gain. I'm giving away Hit or Missus items today. I have one tote bag and two mugs, all of which have the cover art and the slogan, "A friend will help you move. A good friend will help you move a body."

All you have to do is share with me. You can do it in the comments below, or on Facebook or Twitter or Google Plus. Give me one story of how far you've gone to help a friend.

I'll choose three winners, based on either the sweetness or outlandishness of the deed.

Ready, set, go!

The universe is a great place to be

I recently introduced a friend of mine to a name that many people already know. Neil deGrasse Tyson, astrophysicist extraordinaire. Not only is he a smart guy, I'm super-stoked that he is being tapped to be the host of a reboot of Cosmos. Remember this?



Yeah, Carl Sagan was the bomb.

I am in complete awe of well-spoken experts, who can take their subject, about which they could speak in the most complex terms possible, and instead take it down a notch and make it accessible.

Here's Neil, discussing something not exactly scientific, and yet important.



I can't wait.

Hope full

I can't write the blues.

When I was young, I read and enjoyed literary fiction. When I began writing, I dreamed of creating the Next Great American Novel. I pictured a tome about people and their lives and what it all means. The problem is, most of these stories come to either a bad or at best, a neutral end.

I need all's well to end well.

I've written one tale that did not contain my humor. Even now when I read it, I'm not even certain I recognize my own voice. Yet I know I wrote it. I won an online contest with it. It's called Quarter Life.

* * * * *

Whoever said deserts were hot had never been to Vegas in February. Reuben shrank into his borrowed jacket, away from the morning chill. As he did, something shiny caught his attention.

He reached down to the curb, his cold, stiff fingers trying to grasp the object. Stuck to the pavement, it seemed to be glued by the flotsam and jetsam of Las Vegas, layers of dirt and grease and human bondage. His fingernails dug at the hard edge until he pried the silvery coin loose from the concrete.

A quarter, one of the new ones. Reuben flipped it over and saw horses, running from the sunrise. Nevada, the Silver State, it said.

Staccato music from the casino beckoned him frantically, urgently, atonally. He had just left Buffalo Bill's, having kissed his last dollar good-bye. From experience he knew he couldn't wander, penniless, through the slot machines. The employees knew him too well; they had asked him to leave.

He had spotted Carl, the night manager, walking through the poker slots. Reuben knew Carl, knew the way he'd start a friendly conversation that would end with, "Want me to call the shelter, Buddy?" As he headed toward the door, Reuben saw a windbreaker draped on a chair.

"This place owes me," he had mumbled to himself, and casually picked up the jacket as he exited.

A car horn blasted his eardrums as tires kicked up gutter water onto his stained chinos. The taxi woke Reuben from his trance, a dark-skinned driver herding him away from the well-dressed, well-drunk customers with a yell. Reuben waved his hand angrily and yelled something in return, unintelligible even to him.

He stared back down at the quarter. Three years ago, he'd come here with ten thousand dollars and a plan to turn it into more. With Vegas' help, he was going to buy back his house, buy back his family, buy back his life. Vegas was supposed to save him.

It only took a week to break him.

"How you doing tonight?" Carl asked, laying his hand on Reuben's shoulder. "You need a ride to the shelter, buddy?"

Reuben turned and stared through him. He used to be able to talk to people, but he just couldn't see anyone's face anymore.

"How about I give you a voucher for breakfast?" Carl reached into his pocket. "You look like you could use a hot meal."

Reuben continued to stare. "I got a quarter." His words drifted at the manager.

"That's great, buddy. You put that in your pocket, and I'll get you some breakfast."

"I got a quarter." The sentence became a prayer.

Carl sighed. "Okay, buddy. Let's go pick a machine for you."

"I got a quarter," Reuben repeated, following the manager back into the casino. A Nevada quarter, he thought. It was karma. It was fate.

 

This time it would be different.

* * * * *

Sad, yes? And yet I find some weird hope in it, in that Reuben believes this might be the magic coin sent to save him.

If I wrote fantasy, I might make this coin truly magic and take Reuben on a journey to redeem himself.

This is why I'll never write that great novel.

It's a wonderful life

I had a great time in the Placentia Heritage Day Parade and Festival. Of course, I wore my tiara.

Our tram had our names on it, but Al Shkoler and I were the only trustees.

Clifford was there, though.

My booth looks more full of books each year!

I sold a few books, enough to make it a good day. But meeting all the people who came by to say hello made it a great day. Several people actually sought me out this year to tell me they read my column and wanted to meet me.

The best was a man named Eric. He told me he had the same kind of affinity for Fullerton that I have for Placentia, having lived there for many years and raising his sons there. When he moved to Placentia, one of his sons said, "Placentia is the kind of town where people open the garage door on Friday, pull in, close it, and you don't see them again until Monday morning."

Then he told me, "Your columns have let me get to know this town, to feel a part of it."

I would have traded all my book sales just to hear that.

* * * * *

Snoopy's book is still free on Kindle. One more day to get it! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D0HDYRQ

A brief pause in the whole book/writing/author thing

Happy 21st birthday, Marcus!

You have been a joy in our lives, and we love you.

And even if you weren't such a joy, we would still love you.

I can't imagine this planet without you on it.

Your sense of humor slays me.




Your talent overwhelms me.

I'm so happy to be your mom.

Have a wonderful day!


* * * * *

Returning to the whole book/writing/author thing, if you haven't picked up your free copy of Snoopy's memoir, run over to Amazon and do it right now. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D0HDYRQ

Go!

Go over to Amazon right now and get it for FREE!

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D0HDYRQ

On your mark, get set...

GO over to Amazon at midnight tonight, and you can pick up a free copy of From the Horse's Mouth: One Lucky Memoir for your Kindle.

That's right. F.R.E.E.

Snoopy's book will be free until Sunday the 13th. Ya snooze, ya looze. (Yes, I know it's misspelled but it looks funnier this way, and I'm all about the funny.)

Amazon link:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D0HDYRQ

I need you

Not in that way.

This month, I'm trying to be more visible on the 'net, so I'm blogging each and every day. I'm also going to the Placentia Heritage Day festival to sell my books. Here is what the prep for a festival looks like:

I'm not taking the holiday horse. I'd like to find him a home.

I need some ideas. I've got these marketing items and I want to give them away and I don't know how to give them out. Here's what I've got:

A Hit or Missus grocery/sized tote. I have my own and it's very durable.

Two Hit or Missus coffee mugs.

Four From the Horse's Mouth coffee mugs.

A baseball cap with the retro Freezer Burn cover on the front and "Get Burned. It's Cool" on the back.

A baseball cap with Snoopy's book cover on the front and "From the Horse's Mouth" on the back.

Four (yes, FOUR) Professional's Choice grooming bags (these can also be used for other stuff. You don't have to store hoof picks in them).

Should I have a blog giveaway, along with a book, and/or a gift card? It would involve shipping, but I'm willing.

Or should I give them away this weekend at the Placentia Heritage Day Festival? I do love my P-Town peeps, and I'd be happy to show them how much. But... raffle? Pull emails out of a hat?

Maybe my fans would like something...

I'd love-love-LOVE some suggestions.

Checking in

When we last left Gayle, she was up to her thyroid in edits of the new mystery, Murder On The Hoof. Let's check in and see what she's doing today...

Okay, the good news is, I don't have to add a whole week to the timeline. I'm not going to add a bunch of filler just to stretch the story. (Aside: I once had a girl tell me she was going to write a book. She said, "I've got all the key scenes written down. so all I have to do is write a bunch of filler in between." I don't know whether I want to laugh or cry.)

The bad news is, I do have to re-arrange a few scenes and start the action on Monday instead of Wednesday. Is that important? Wellllll...

Standard AQHA shows are Thursday through Sunday. A longer show, like the Sun Circuit, might last from Saturday through to the following weekend. I need my story to end on Saturday. If I start it on the previous Saturday, I've got at least two days that end up as some kind of "the next two days seemed to crawl by as Willie waited for X to happen."

Lame-O.

But if the show starts on Tuesday, the timeline works. Willie and her trainer load in on Monday, someone dies, and off we go. Perfect.

All I have to do is convince my readers that it's perfect timing. Wish me luck.

Editing - it's not for wimps

I've started the first round of editing of Murder On The Hoof. How many rounds are there, typically? It depends. I always have five editing steps.

1. Sweeping read-through where I get rid of my go-to words and do clean up work.

2. One read-aloud, where I re-work sections that sound really good in my head and really bad in my mouth.

3. One read-aloud into a digital voice recorder, where I play it back and just listen to what needs to be re-worked.

4. One analytical read-through, where I outline what I've written and look at the pacing and structure.

5. One read-through to verify that all my edits were successful.

I can have several rounds of each step, so it can be a long process.

Murder On The Hoof will take a lot of editing. So much of it came so quickly, I'm finding wacky things, like photos that were supposed to have been taken by someone who is already dead. (No, there will be no zombies in this novel.)

Plus, as soon as I typed THE END I knew I would have to go back in and add a week to the timeline (it will be abbreviated). After creating a fictional horse show that is two weeks long so I could use some already-expedited forensics tests, I wrapped the whole thing up in the first weekend.

Yeah, that can't happen.

After my editing, I'll be soliciting my beta readers. Who to chose...

I asked for this.

I was a very quiet child. Seriously. All of my report cards said, "Gayle is very quiet and needs to speak up more in class." The teachers were not impressed enough with high grades, it seems. They wanted me to be more vocal about being so smart.

Now that I'm grown, I've hatched from my shell and become one gregarious gal. I can't stop talking to people, even when a little voice in my head says, "SHUT UP! YOU'RE IN UNCHARTED TERRITORY!"

The first time I noticed a bad side effect of TTM (Talking Too Much) is when I was in line at the grocery store and struck up a conversation with a woman who was behind me. One minute we were laughing about the tabloids at the checkout counter, then I mentioned the articles about flying saucers. Next thing I know, the woman is telling me about being visited by aliens in her parents' orchard when she was nine. Her voice seemed to grow louder the further I moved away. By the time I escaped, I think I was having an out-of-body experience.

It would not be the last time I should have zipped my lip.

Last year, I was at the Duarte Festival of Authors, when a woman approached my table and looked at my books. We chatted about the festival and the weather and I told her what my books were about. It all seemed harmless. Then she said:

"I just finished reading Fifty Shades of Grey, and I loved it. It's so well written and the characters are so real. I'd love to read more books like that."

I don't have books like that. I could have told her exactly that and moved on. Instead, I heard myself say, "If you loved that book, you should try Fifty Shades of Alice in Wonderland." (Don't judge me. Yes, it's total erotica but as opposed to FSoG, Fifty Shades of Alice really is well written and it's funny. I like funny.)

And thus began the Great Bondage Monologue of 2012. I'd say "discussion" but all I did was nod and smile and try not to let my eyes bug out of my head. I'm going to try to describe it here without getting an X-rating on my blog.

First, picture a tall, stately, older woman. Maybe a cross between this:

And this:

According to her, she accompanied her very happy friend and his very happy boyfriend to a very special seminar. You got a different colored badge at this seminar, depending upon why you were there. Red meant you were an observer, yellow meant you might want to try things out, and green meant let's exchange numbers.

When she walked into the room, she saw the teacher, who was a dominating kind of woman (hint, hint) and her male assistant. The assistant was very thin, very pale, and very hairless - all over. Top to bottom. His well, you know, was clearly visible.

With me so far?

The teacher took a long strip of leather and proceeded to demonstrate knot-tying with her assistant, by tying various knots around his Well-You-Know, then anchoring it to his leg.

Please remember that I am listening to her explain all this in the middle of a park next to a senior assisted-living facility. This is where it truly drifts into TMI.

She told me she then went home to her (then) boyfriend and practiced what she had learned on him. They went shopping at the mall for awhile, then walked over to a restaurant for dinner. When she asked him how Well-You-Know was doing, he said, "I don't know. I think it fell off about an hour ago."

Had I but kept my mouth shut when she mentioned Fifty Shades, I would not be telling you this story today. There is apparently no cure for TTM, so if I'm going to suffer with this disease, I'm going to share it with you.

Actually, I blame my teachers for this. Gayle isn't quiet anymore.

So long at the fair

It was hot, but at least it wasn't windy.

For those of you who don't live in southern California, the Santa Ana winds have moved in over the weekend. They are strong and hot and take no prisoners. They were in my thoughts and my hair this morning as I loaded my canopy in the minivan and left for the Duarte Festival of Authors. Although the festival is set in a park with lots of trees for shade, there are large empty spaces that get full sun most of the day.

I needed the canopy to keep out of the sun, but would it be confiscated by the Santa Anas and blown to Arcadia?

Thankfully, we only got the heat and not the gale.

As usual, the festival was a lovely, low-key affair. The staff is always nice, but this year the volunteer teenagers went out of their way to help us in any way possible. At one point, they brought me a cup of hot tea and a cinnamon-spice muffin. So sweet!

As I've said before, I don't sell tons of books at this event. I don't think anyone does. My internal sell-o-meter is to aim for selling 6 books. If I hit that number, I'm happy. If I don't hit that number, I'm at least satisfied that I spent a lovely day with my author friends.

This is my friend Pam. She lives in Valencia and I live in Placentia and they only sound close together. They are really an hour apart on a good day and impossible to get to on a normal day of LA traffic. A day spent with Pam in a booth goes like this:

Pam - (books, marketing)
Me - (family, random crap)
Pam - (family, latest charity event)
Me - (books, marketing)
Both - *looking up to see a customer* "Hi, how are you today?"

Repeat as necessary.

We both handed out a lot of cards and bookmarks, and talked to a lot of people who have ereaders. I think we'll be watching our Kindle sales to see if the people who wanted to buy our ebooks carry out their intentions.

Before we knew it, four o'clock had rolled around and it was time to pack up. All my unsold books, cards, bookmarks, and even the gnomes went back in their storage bin. The canopy was folded and schlepped back to my car. How many books did I sell?

Six.

 

 

 

Color me happy.



Miss Otis Regrets

She's unable to lunch today.

I may not be Miss Otis, but I'm unable to lunch today as well, for an entirely different reason. I'm in Duarte, at the Festival of the Authors, held as a fundraiser by the Friends of the Duarte Library. I was originally invited by my friend Pam Carter Ripling, who writes as Anne Carter. I've come to look forward to seeing her each year at this event.

Lots of my other writer friends have made their way here, not necessarily to make large sales, but to spend a lovely day at the park among books and readers. Today I'll see Jenny Hilborne, Terry Ambrose and Teresa Burrell, to name a few. I'll be missing Jeff Sherratt, who passed away last year.

My first trip to Duarte was my most memorable, in that I got to meet with Ray Bradbury, who flirted with me, even though he was 200 years old at the time. I learned from a friend recently that Ray flirted with anything in a skirt, so maybe I should feel so special, except that I do. Here's the post I wrote about that: http://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2009/10/lucky-day-wearing-lucky-shirt.html.

I'll give you all a de-brief tomorrow, but I'll leave you with a song.



Someday, when I grow up, I want as much energy as this gal.

It's all about ME

I've gotten hooked on a TV station recently. It's called ME TV, as in Memorable Entertainment Television. (Don't worry, I'm only hooked on two stations, ME and TCM, and neither of them interfere with my writing.)

ME TV has old TV shows, old movies, and generally old stuff. Where else can you watch Perry Mason and Ironside back-to-back and compare the skinny Raymond Burr to the rotund one? Exactly. Only on ME TV. I've been watching obscure episodes of Peter Gunn, Naked City, and even some Twilight Zones I don't remember.

In particular, I've been tuning in on Saturday nights to watch Svengoolie, a wacky host who introduces old horror movies and inserts his very special brand of humor at the commercial breaks. I don't want to ruin any surprises, but rubber chickens are involved. (And BTW, no, apparently I have no life if I'm spending my Saturday nights with a man who looks like he's been punked by Dr. John.)

Last weekend, I saw The Leech Woman. Totally funny movie. Totally not meant to be. So, here's the plot:

Snooty Scientist and his Semi-Okay-Sidekick go to Africa to find a youth potion that they plan to recreate back in the lab, then sell for big bucks and retire. Snooty Scientist has an old, Boozy Wife who is already richer than Rockefeller, and he schleps her along to be his personal youth potion guinea pig.

In deepest Africa, where the huts all have porches, the natives have tools of metal and the ground is so perfectly smooth you might suspect it's a soundstage, our three stooges find an elderly woman who is the leader of the tribe. She gladly tells them of the potion and demonstrates how it works. The recipe is as follows -

1 pinch of magic powder
2 drops of spinal fluid from a freshly dead man (obtained with a claw-like ring)
1/4 cup of water
Stir and drink immediately.

Tribal Queen drinks the potion, twerks a little, then POOF! turns into the drop-dead gorgeous Kim Hamilton. I really wanted her to say "Tada!" but she just gave everyone the And-That's-How-It's-Done look.

Crazily enough, no one was bothered by that second ingredient. Snooty Scientist encourages Boozy Wife to drink the Kool-Aid. Tribal Queen is willing to share, but the recipe only makes enough for one. She stands on her porch and points to her large group of male followers (so very different from a group of large male followers).

"Choose the man," she tells Boozy Wife.

Boozy Wife doesn't even blink. She points to Snooty Scientist. "Him."

Shortly after that, Beautiful Boozy Widow and Semi-Okay-Sidekick steal the magic powder, the claw-ring, and skedaddle. While they are on the run, BBW discovers a couple of interesting things about the youth potion. The effects wear off in around 24 hours, AND afterward you are left looking older than before you swallowed it.

The Semi-Okay-Sidekick learns that you cannot trust a woman who has a claw-ring and knows how to use it.

The rest of the movie returns us to her hometown, where she has to kill a lot of men to keep herself looking good. By the end she has learned one more valuable lesson - the spinal fluid of a woman doesn't work. She should have killed the boy-toy, not his fiancée. As you can imagine, it ends badly for everyone, except perhaps the local funeral home.

Wild, yeah? Got any other crazy-cheap-cheesy movies you'd like to recommend?

They're not who you think they are

Yesterday, my buddy Drew wrote a post about his meeting with a hooker, back when he was working as a broadcast journalist. Yes, it was for a story, you crazy kids. You can read it here: http://crimefictioncollective.blogspot.com/2013/10/that-evening-i-spent-with-hooker.html. As it turns out, the prostitute he met was not the prostitute he thought he was going to meet. The cliché of the hardened woman, abused as a child and strung out on drugs, was replaced with a young girl who worried about being seen on camera because her mom watches the news.

This started me thinking about real people vs. writers' characters. I was at a read and critique at a writer's conference, listening to an excerpt. The writing was clearly strong, and the story had a certain level of intrigue. A young, naïve woman is taken captive and gang-raped by a group of men. They leave the house and she frees herself, finds some clothes, a little cash and...

Stops to heat up a can of soup and eat because she's hungry.

What? Maybe she is hungry, but why not grab a piece of something - bread, fruit, crackers - to go? Maybe she's so traumatized that she's not thinking clearly about getting out of the house before her attackers return. It's possible. But nothing communicated her motivation, and the action didn't seem related to the plot. The soup wasn't Chekhov's gun.

We argued with the writer for quite a while. I don't know if we ever changed his mind. It sure taught me a lesson, though.

A character can be anyone doing anything, but they have to make sense.

Perhaps a member of the family abused the young prostitute and is making money off her. Perhaps her family is struggling financially and she is trying to keep them off the street. There might be several ways to tell her story and make her believable. Since she really exists, there's got to be a way. (I'm sure Drew could find it.)

Perhaps the writer's young naïve woman really is so delirious she stops to heat soup. Perhaps she's not that naïve, she's a badass who sticks around to get revenge. Again, there might be several ways to make her actions understandable.

It's easy to create a character that everyone is familiar with. The geeky computer specialist. The Hispanic maid. The hooker with the heart of gold.

I'd like to suggest that it's just as easy to create a character than no one is expecting. The Hispanic computer specialist who is a body builder in her spare time. The college-educated white man who cleans hotel rooms. The housewife who moonlights as a call girl to feed her sex addiction and get paid for it. These people can exist in stories. The author only has to make us believe.

What are some of the characters you've read about (or seen on the screen) that turned a stereotype on its head?

Give me some great examples and I'll give you a free ebook.

Karma

Karma: Theosophy - the cosmic principle according to which each person is rewarded or punished in one incarnation according to that person's deed in the previous incarnation.

It's a word we throw about a lot without thinking. Specifically the "karma's a bitch" line we use when people mess with us. I'm guessing that a lot of people say that without actually meaning they believe in reincarnation.

I myself believe in reincarnation while I'm still alive to learn something from it. So when I think about karma, I think about being the best I can be in this moment, because I may need someone's good will in the next.

Part of my job as writer-publisher is marketing my books. I try not to do this by shouting Buy My Books all over the internet, or spamming my friends and relatives with invitations to buy my books or otherwise boring the universe with the same broken record.

What do I do instead? Well, for one thing, I spread the word about other authors' books. I share their latest release news, I leave reviews, I offer my site up for blog tours. While I don't ask for reciprocation, the authors who return the favor have a special place in my heart.

For another, I do events. Book festivals, craft fairs, etc. I show up on time, I am considerate of the other sellers, I'm polite to customers, and I thank my hosts. Again, I don't ask for anything special in return, but if I've come back to a place for several years in a row, I'm thrilled when they know me and give me a better spot or some other little reward for my loyalty.

I'm at a point where I don't know what to do about authors who take and don't give, and festivals who treat me like my loyalty to them doesn't matter. I'm still about good karma, about showing up and doing my best. Do I cut my losses and give my good will elsewhere? Or do I keep finding that reason within myself to continue to give them my support?

Is good karma its own reward? What do you think?

A big fat month of fun!

Wow, it's October already! I did not see that coming.

My October is going to be quite busy, with a capital BEE, It starts with the Duarte Festival of Authors, a fundraiser for the Friends of the Duarte Library, held in the lovely Westminster Gardens Memorial Park. I'll be there on Saturday, October 5th, from early to late. I believe the official hours are 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. but it doesn't matter, I'll be arriving early and staying til the last dog is dead, as they say. (I'm not sure who "they" are, but they're a macabre bunch.)

My mystery buddies will be there, too. Terry Ambrose, Pam Carter Ripling (writing as Anne Carter), Jenny Hilborne, Teresa Burrell, and who knows who else. We call ourselves Murder, We Wrote, and we have a Facebook page, if you're interested. There will be books and authors and food and more. We're supposed to be on a panel together. I'll give you the details when I get them.

Then on the following weekend, I'm in a parade!

Placentia Heritage Day is always the second Saturday in October. There is always a pancake breakfast, a parade, then a day-long lovefest in Tri-City Park. As a trustee for the Placentia Library District, I get to ride in the parade. This will be my second year. I haven't decided whether to wear the tiara again, but I have started to get my waving arm in shape. I never knew how taxing it was to continually wave along the route!

After the parade, I will have a booth in the park where you can buy my books and I'll autograph them. I'll even just stand around and chat with you, because I love meeting people.

I'd love to come home and rest after that, but on Sunday, Oct. 13th, I'll be selling and signing at the Big Orange Book Festival (aka, BOB), held at Chapman University in Orange. I've never been to this event before, so we'll see how it all shakes out. Of course, you'll be getting a de-brief.

Because I will be so insanely busy, I've decided to ramp up the action by posting blogs every day, not just here, but on Snoopy's blog, too! We'll be doing some giveaways, and giving you some surprises.

Stop in every day and see what you could win!