We just want to help you

 Hi, remember me?

Okay so it's been a hot minute since I've blogged. Honestly, I didn't think I'd let it go this long, but I was trying to finish editing my latest manuscript and made a vow that I wouldn't write anything else (except for my contractually-obligated column) until I'd finished the dang book.

It's finished.

Now, let's talk about Banned Books Week. It's happening now, October 5-11, and I'm a library trustee so I have some thoughts about book challenges to libraries.

My overwhelming thought these days is that, due to our passion to keep the library relevant to ALL of our patrons, we tend to get defensive about protecting our dear books on our shelves. But here's the thing: Our patrons are not our adversaries, nor do we want to treat them that way. Our patrons are our neighbors, our friends, our reason to exist.

What I'd like people to understand is that, just as we want books that inform, help, or entertain them, we want to do the same for everyone who holds one of our library cards. If you are not interested in car repair, should you ask for all the car repair books to be removed? I am uncomfortable reading books about slavery, in that they make me painfully sad, but I want other people to be able to read them.

You may not like a particular book but someone else needs it.

Children's books get a little more difficult. Parents want to protect their children and often that means the material they are exposed to. Librarians don't want to be your enemy, they want to be your guide through the shelves. Tell them what you're looking for. They'll help you find it.

Here's where I get a little blunt. You know those books you want to ban that discuss things you don't want your child to read about? They're on the shelves because there are children asking about them. I know, you wish it wasn't so, but I see two paths available to the parents of "those" children.

One path is to love your child even if you don't understand who they are, and help them get accurate information (hint: it's in your library).

The other path is to abandon your child because of who they are. I personally cannot think of anything Marcus could be or do that would erase my love for him (although if he was a serial killer, I'd be very disappointed), but I know people whose parents disowned them because they disapproved of their lifestyle.

I am one of those people--my parents disowned me for marrying an African-American man. They retracted it when I had Marcus but it colored our relationship until their deaths. I'm afraid my advice to those parents would be, if they can't fully love their child, why do they care what their child reads? 

I know how harsh that sounds and it's probably more complicated than that, but I'm also the mom who tried very hard to "raise the child she had and not the one she wanted."

So, I encourage you this week to look at the books that have been banned and why they were banned. If any of them make you curious, check it out of the library!

When there is a Death

 It's been a week since my mother-in-law died and I have been processing it all, as one does. I am sad, yes. Even though she had been in declining health, even though I saw it coming, I am sad. There's an irrational human thought that time might suddenly reverse and the person will be miraculously healed and we'll all go on just as we have.

Or maybe that's just me.

It's still hard to be out among people, even family, although when I'm forced, I am grateful for the company. I do fear I could easily become a recluse.

Years ago I was on vacation with my grandmother and step-grandfather in New Orleans. We took a Greyline tour (aka the "Blue Hair Tour") and part of the guide's talk was about funeral rituals in the 18th century. They covered all the mirrors in the house with black fabric, everyone wore black for a year, and cards were sent out like birth announcements that announced the death. In other words, they MOURNED.

BTW, I really liked that tour.

I know how fast society moves, that there is an immediacy to the way we live, but we don't seem to slow down for Death these days. Emails still need answering, bills need paying, how quickly can we get the services done so we can go back to normal?

As if there's a normal we can go back to.

Dale had been taking care of his mother for months, spending days and weeks at the house, coming home for maybe 15 minutes to mow the lawn before running back to ensure her needs were met. This week, every time he leaves the house, I think he's going back to check on his mom before reality catches up to me and I correct myself. No, she's gone.

There are some logistical decisions that need to be made, but not now. We will mourn and celebrate her as a group at her service and then take care of everything else.

In the meantime, I am cleaning my house so that when we have the service, our home can comfortably host out-of-town guests. We may have none, we may have two, we may have a dozen. I've learned to be flexible.

I am taking notes about how to direct my family as I'm aging. After watching my husband and his brothers second-guess what to do to help their mom, I want to give Marcus (and Dale) a better feeling of clarity.

Hell, I'll probably write my own eulogy, just to make it easier on everyone.

I'll also post more about my mom-in-law Barbara, but not at the moment. I need time to mourn first.

Sometimes my mind wanders

First, it was a lot of fun to sell my books at the Placentia Shop Small Boutique. I gave some books as prizes, sold some, and as usual, made friends and connections.

Where am I next? Celebrating Read Locally: Local Author Day at the Yorba Linda Library on April 6 from 2-4. I don't have a flyer to show you, but here is the link: https://www.ylpl.org/authorfest/ 

I will be flying back from a conference in Columbus, Ohio that same day, so if someone could bring me a Starbucks and slap me into consciousness, I'd appreciate it.

In the meantime, I've been thinking about memoirs recently, having read a couple of good ones, Honeymoon at Sea by Jennifer Silva Redmond, and When Your Heart Says Go by Judy Reeves. I've written a sort-of memoir in my book From the Horse's Mouth, even though it is fictionalized a bit and told in first-person Snoopy. But I've never thought of writing my very own memoir, mostly because I don't believe anything huge and life-changing ever happened to me.

Did I go through two divorces before I found a man I not just loved, but felt safe with? Yes. Did I move from Illinois to California by myself in a Honda Civic with my dog Tyler? Yes. Did I walk away from a lucrative 30-year career as a software engineer in order to write, work with my horse, and be in the room when my son had a question? Yes.

Do these things make a memoir? No, mostly because these big things weren't as important as what went on before, and what went on before was a series of little things. I was 23 years old when my grandfather Hansel died. I was close to him, and I remember driving down 22nd Street in Decatur, Illinois, feeling thoroughly unhappy with my life and thinking that I had to stay here because my parents would be unhappy if I left. 

And then it hit me that my grandfather had died, and someday my grandmother would, and then my parents, and I would have lived my entire life trying to keep them happy and have a shell of a life when they were gone. That little moment was the catalyst, the idea that I wasn't living the life I wanted. The trip out west seems anticlimactic by comparison.

I mean, I am 70 now so maybe it's time to write a memoir, but it might never be time to publish it, and the public might not take the time to read it. At least I have a couple of title ideas. I was thinking of:

1. Things I Did When I Wasn't Doing Anything Else, or

2. I Think I'm Boring But What Did You Want To Know?

Maybe I'll stick to fiction.

Why doncha come up and see me sometime?

via GIPHY

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.

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.

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!

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!

I've got more appearances at more festivals, so stay tuned!

And to all...

 

Forgive me, Mr. Claws. I'm afraid I've made a terrible mess of your holiday.

I’ve leapt into the 90s with this quote. I do love me some Nightmare Before Christmas.

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.

I think it’s all going to even out with enough miles behind us.

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.

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.

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.

And I see him every now and again.

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.

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^th 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. 

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.”

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.”

 

Fill your plate!

The Carlines

Having it all

 Author. Singer. Actor. Artist.

We've all heard the response when we said we wanted a career in the arts. "That's great, but you should have a backup plan."

Accountant. Teacher. Nurse. Tech. The Backup Plan.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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."

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. 

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.

Art, and life, are to be enjoyed. Get out there and enjoy them!

I have no regrets

Y'all know one thing about me, and that is I'm a lady of a certain age...that age being older.

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.

Vegas' motto is "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas." Not when I come to town. I will confess all and feel no regrets.

NoMad Library Restaurant

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. 

I'm pretty sure I know which one of those activities you want me to tell you
about.

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.

Apparently, I was wrong. They like to include the whole room.

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.

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."

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."

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?"

Oooohhhh. THAT'S what he meant.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.

He took my hands and lifted me from the chair, saying, "Now we're going to bow."

Bow? I thought. What's a bow? I remembered just in time, we bowed, and he escorted me to the edge of the stage. 

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.

And now I have a boa.

The memories I wasn't looking for

 Like Barbra says:

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.

Naturally, I needed to share.

This is Samirah.

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.

This is my cousin Max. 

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.

This is Alyssa Barnes.

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: https://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2016/04/you-do-not-write-away-heartache.html

This is my family.

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!

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.

A quick short note

 Hey there, Peeps!

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!

I hope to see you there!

Happy (and contemplative) Juneteenth!

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.

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).

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.

(As a complete side note, I used to enjoy strawberry soda and vanilla ice cream floats with my grandfather and now I want one.)

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.

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:

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.

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?

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."

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. 

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.

What else did we inherit from the patriarchy that we don't need anymore?

All because Juneteenth made me think and noodle and contemplate. I guess that's how I observed the holiday today.

A brief interlude and long post while I try to catch up

 Hi, there! Long time no post, eh?

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?

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.

But that's not all in the online world...

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?

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.

The plan is to release the trilogy on May 16, but we'll see if I get the short story completed.

Here in the physical realm, things are happening, too.

On Friday, May 19th, I will be the breakfast speaker at the California Federation of Women's Clubs 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.

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...

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.

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!

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:

I have to get a biopsy.

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.

You know it's not good when the radiologist follows her back into your exam room. My dots had grown.

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.

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.

At the moment, I can't worry about it. I got too much to do.

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.

A brief diversion on writing

 I was oh-so-honored recently to be one of the guest speakers at the Southern California Writers Conference, 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.

via GIPHY

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.

I thought I was writing in the dreamy style of the fairy tales of my youth, but sure.

My answer was that I read across genres, and I learn to recognize and incorporate the style of whatever genre I am writing.

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. 

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.

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.

via GIPHY

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.

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.

So, Rick, that's a more complete answer. Hope it helps.

Just one week

 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."

Join me next Friday for the release! In the meantime, pre-order your copy here:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/

What's new, Pussycats?

Well, 2023, for one, right?

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?

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:

https://www.amazon.com/New-Dragon-Soaring-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B7KR3NBM/

Or you can wait until its release on Friday, February 10th and buy it then.

"But Gayle, I don't want to wait," you plead.

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.

Here's the flyer:

If you're local (or local enough) I hope to see you there!

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):

https://www.amazon.com/Blood-Dragon-Rising-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B09XQV24DW/

https://www.amazon.com/Moon-Dragon-Falling-Shadows-Book-ebook/dp/B0B6QMB2WZ/

Otherwise, my next adventure will be in February at the Southern California Writers Conference in San Diego, where I shall have more copies available.

Life is delicious, Peeps. Savor it.

A brief diversion -- and a Very Merry Christmas to you!

 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.

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.

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!)

Are you ready?

No, not for the holidays. I know better than to ask that.

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...

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.

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.

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.

What are reviewers saying about MOON DRAGON FALLING? Here's what D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer at Midwest Book Reviews thought about it:

"Moon Dragon Falling 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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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?

 

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.

 

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.

 

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.

 

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."

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.

I can't wait!

A Halloween tale to be told

 I've been working on the Dragon Shadows Trilogy 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.

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. Smoked old-fashioned, anyone? Enjoy.

Ashes

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.

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.

Alone…sort of.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he panted as the phone rang. “Shit, Jake, pick up.”

A groggy, guttural voice rewarded him. “S’up?”

“Get over here. Now.”

“Wha?” Rustling noises cluttered the background, accompanied by a moaning yawn. “Dude, I just woke up.”

“I don’t care, come over. I need help. Need it bad.”

“Doing what?”

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.”

“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.”

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.

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?

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.

Stuart’s first thought leapt to song lyrics. Raven hair and ruby lips. 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.

“Stuart? I’m Phoebe.” She extended her hand.

If only I’d left it there, if only I’d left her there. 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.

Sighing, he let go and moved away. If I look again, I might hurl.

Vigorous knocking at the front door startled him and he ran to open it. Jake stood in the hall with a curious expression.

“So I’m here,” he said. “What’s the deal?”

“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.”

Jake shrugged. “Whatev.”

“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.”

“Great!”

“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.”

“Wow, and she swiped right on you?”

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.”

“Whoa-ho, that was fast.” Jake plopped onto the couch. “Did you two…?”

“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.”

“Dude, tell me you didn’t call me over here to brag.”

“No!” Stuart jumped up and resumed his pacing. “Like, I thought she was really enjoying it, but after we’d done it nine times—”

“Wait. Nine times?”

“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.

“So?”

Stuart pointed toward the bedroom. “Go open the bathroom door and look.”

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.

“What the hell?” Jake yelled from the bathroom.

“I couldn’t get that lucky,” Stuart mumbled and joined him.

Jake was pointing at the bathroom floor. “Are these?”

“Ashes,” Stuart said.

“Like…?”

“Yes, like, human. Human remains.” Stuart waved his hand in the direction of the mess. “You’ll observe the bits of bone.”

“I don’t get it. She lit herself on fire with the candle?”

“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?”

The two men stood and studied what remained of Phoebe for several moments.

“Now what?” Jake said.

“How should I know? Do I call the cops?”

Jake stared at him. “And tell them what? ‘I’d like to report a case of spontaneous human combustion.’”

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.”

“Not if there’s no evidence.” Jake rubbed his chin. “Get a trash bag and the broom.”

Stuart’s eyes widened. He looked down at the remains, back up at his friend, then nodded and went to the kitchen.

“Make sure we get her clothes, too,” he said.

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?”

“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.”

“Let’s take care of this.” Jake pointed to the bag. “Maybe your face’ll relax.”

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.

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.

* * * * *

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.

She felt around the bottom of the bag and smiled. “How polite of him to include my clothes.”

After dressing, she walked out of the brush and toward the road. That never gets old, she thought as she strolled along the pavement, feeling refreshed and renewed. And as long as mortal men are so easy, neither will I.