I do like to drag out ye olde tyme frights near All Hallow's Eve. Yes, this is how ancient I feel, resorting to the original Frankenstein, Alfred Hitchcock, even Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy to get my scares.
I've shown you the trailer for The Cat People (1942) before, but here's one of the creepier scenes.
I used to watch this and get chills. Now I'm thinking about the story. A young woman morphs into a black panther whenever her libido is aroused. She is both confused and terrified of what she is, and seeks help. Unfortunately, let's just call her therapist a bad choice.
It seems like a wonder that this film was made at all. A man named DeWitt Bodeen wrote the script for a title and subject that were imposed upon him by the RKO Studio chief Charles Koerner. Val Lewton was the producer, who had been hired by RKO to produce movies as quickly and cheaply possible. The film came in ahead of schedule and for less than its $150,000 budget.
The movie was panned by critics, but it was a box-office hit. It was also in the theaters for such a long time, its original critics had a chance to revisit and publish more favorable reviews.
I like this, because it shows the tenacity of a writer to work within a demanding system, and make lemonade from lemons.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
The answer was there all along
I'm really over at Crime Fiction Collective today, but I've had a recent convergence of thoughts that culminated in one big idea, and you know me, I'm a sharer.
When last we met, I was at a loss, wondering what it takes to own your position as an author (without activating everyone else's gag muscle). As I moped around, trying to think of a topic for the CFC, I decided to talk about my muse.
Frostie is fifteen now. I've had her since she was three. She has taught me much, but she has revealed more. One trait that I consider my best AND worst (and have given to Peri) is my stubbornness. I never knew how stubborn I was until I bought Frostie and she revealed my flaw/superpower.
Riding did not come naturally to me, so I had to fight hard to develop my balance. This involved many lessons with my trainer holding the long line while Frostie loped around, with me in the saddle, no stirrups and no reins. I had to learn to relax at the small of my back and let my hips follow my horse, instead of fighting her.
While I learned, I found myself sliding right and left, and flopping forward and back - and frightened to tears the entire time. I kept telling myself that I was a grown woman who was PAYING for the lesson and had the absolute right to stop and get off my horse. But I didn't.
I was too stubborn to quit.
Frostie also taught me confidence. She is a skittish horse, given to spooking at plastic bags, trash cans that have been moved, and ghosts. Apart from the obvious problem when I was in the saddle (see stubbornness, above), it was hard to lead her anywhere without having her startle and jump, usually on me. Learning to keep her attention and calm her down gave me a new level of self-assurance.
It also saved my feet.
The day after I wrote the CFC post about her, I was sitting at the ranch, waiting for a student. I had already gone to Snoopy's stall and petted him, and kissed his nose, and told him about his book. Then I visited Frostie and talked to her about her modeling gig and how pretty the pictures turned out. There was also scratching and smooching. Now I sat and looked out at the arena, to Frostie who was in her stall, looking back at me.
And it dawned on me what a lucky, lucky person I am to have these horses. Me, who loved horses from before the womb, who was denied them until she had decided that dream might not survive, and who was able to dream again thanks to a caring husband. I started crying a little, then, because I felt such intense happiness and blessings.
So now I'm at a loss AND I'm a mess.
But I thought about what Frostie had taught me. Confidence and a stubborn streak. Why am I stressing about being recognized as what I am? I'm an author. If you don't believe me, I won't give up until I change your mind.
And when all else fails, I try to channel this woman:
After all, "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death."
When last we met, I was at a loss, wondering what it takes to own your position as an author (without activating everyone else's gag muscle). As I moped around, trying to think of a topic for the CFC, I decided to talk about my muse.
 |
| Me and my Frostie at a show in Santa Barbara |
Frostie is fifteen now. I've had her since she was three. She has taught me much, but she has revealed more. One trait that I consider my best AND worst (and have given to Peri) is my stubbornness. I never knew how stubborn I was until I bought Frostie and she revealed my flaw/superpower.
Riding did not come naturally to me, so I had to fight hard to develop my balance. This involved many lessons with my trainer holding the long line while Frostie loped around, with me in the saddle, no stirrups and no reins. I had to learn to relax at the small of my back and let my hips follow my horse, instead of fighting her.
While I learned, I found myself sliding right and left, and flopping forward and back - and frightened to tears the entire time. I kept telling myself that I was a grown woman who was PAYING for the lesson and had the absolute right to stop and get off my horse. But I didn't.
I was too stubborn to quit.
Frostie also taught me confidence. She is a skittish horse, given to spooking at plastic bags, trash cans that have been moved, and ghosts. Apart from the obvious problem when I was in the saddle (see stubbornness, above), it was hard to lead her anywhere without having her startle and jump, usually on me. Learning to keep her attention and calm her down gave me a new level of self-assurance.
It also saved my feet.
The day after I wrote the CFC post about her, I was sitting at the ranch, waiting for a student. I had already gone to Snoopy's stall and petted him, and kissed his nose, and told him about his book. Then I visited Frostie and talked to her about her modeling gig and how pretty the pictures turned out. There was also scratching and smooching. Now I sat and looked out at the arena, to Frostie who was in her stall, looking back at me.
And it dawned on me what a lucky, lucky person I am to have these horses. Me, who loved horses from before the womb, who was denied them until she had decided that dream might not survive, and who was able to dream again thanks to a caring husband. I started crying a little, then, because I felt such intense happiness and blessings.
So now I'm at a loss AND I'm a mess.
But I thought about what Frostie had taught me. Confidence and a stubborn streak. Why am I stressing about being recognized as what I am? I'm an author. If you don't believe me, I won't give up until I change your mind.
And when all else fails, I try to channel this woman:
After all, "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death."
Sunday, October 21, 2012
I need me some moves
I'm at a loss.
I've decided to embrace this self-publishing gig. Got my own little press, with its own little logo. Even got a business license, just so I'm legit.
I realize that authors and publishers do two different things. Authors create the product. Publishers package and promote the product. Two different hats must be worn. They cannot be worn simultaneously.
So while my third mystery, The Hot Mess, is in the hands of an editor and the cover art is in progress by my designer, I'm doing publisher things like writing the jacket blurb and thinking about how and when to release it in its various incarnations.
And don't forget promotion. How am I going to drum up interest in this thing?
It occurred to me that maybe I could get one or two of my more famous author friends to read an advance copy and give me a blurb for the jacket (note: only if they liked it). Something I could use in my advertising. Put on my website. Put on a banner and fly from a rented airplane. You know, the usual routine.
I met a fairly well-known and very established mystery author recently. Not Sue Grafton famous, but famous within her sub-genre. We spoke at length, exchanged emails and got along like peas in a pod. Perhaps she could help me with a little statement about how wonderful my book is.
But I don't ask for something without offering fair value. I purchased one of her books and read it, planning to first praise it to the heavens in an email and posting a good review on Amazon before asking for a blurb.
Imagine my chagrin when I discovered I didn't like the book. I looked at the reviews on Amazon and quite a few reviewers had the same problems I had, which only made me feel worse, because I thought maybe it was just me. It wasn't.
Here's the thing: I was struck by her aura, for lack of a better term, when we met. She was not snobby, or narcissistic. She was just An Author. Period. If I had written this book and given it to my beta readers, they would have ripped me to little bite-sized pieces. Not only did she get a contract, but the way she spoke, it would never occur to her that she wouldn't get a contract for any book she decided to write.
What she has is what I lack, and I don't mean the contract. I mean the swagger of being an author, the ownership that you write books for the world to read and you're confident they will all love them, and if they don't, you'll cry all the way to the bank. Every time I attempt this, I start feeling way too precious for my own skin and abandon it in favor of a hearty laugh.
Any suggestions, Authors? How does one go about developing the external presentation, the thing that announces to the world that of course you are An Author of Some Importance without letting it take you over until no one wants to talk to you? Do I need moves like Jagger or something?
I'm seriously looking for some suggestions. And blurbs. I wouldn't mind having some blurbs.
I've decided to embrace this self-publishing gig. Got my own little press, with its own little logo. Even got a business license, just so I'm legit.
I realize that authors and publishers do two different things. Authors create the product. Publishers package and promote the product. Two different hats must be worn. They cannot be worn simultaneously.
So while my third mystery, The Hot Mess, is in the hands of an editor and the cover art is in progress by my designer, I'm doing publisher things like writing the jacket blurb and thinking about how and when to release it in its various incarnations.
And don't forget promotion. How am I going to drum up interest in this thing?
It occurred to me that maybe I could get one or two of my more famous author friends to read an advance copy and give me a blurb for the jacket (note: only if they liked it). Something I could use in my advertising. Put on my website. Put on a banner and fly from a rented airplane. You know, the usual routine.
I met a fairly well-known and very established mystery author recently. Not Sue Grafton famous, but famous within her sub-genre. We spoke at length, exchanged emails and got along like peas in a pod. Perhaps she could help me with a little statement about how wonderful my book is.
But I don't ask for something without offering fair value. I purchased one of her books and read it, planning to first praise it to the heavens in an email and posting a good review on Amazon before asking for a blurb.
Imagine my chagrin when I discovered I didn't like the book. I looked at the reviews on Amazon and quite a few reviewers had the same problems I had, which only made me feel worse, because I thought maybe it was just me. It wasn't.
Here's the thing: I was struck by her aura, for lack of a better term, when we met. She was not snobby, or narcissistic. She was just An Author. Period. If I had written this book and given it to my beta readers, they would have ripped me to little bite-sized pieces. Not only did she get a contract, but the way she spoke, it would never occur to her that she wouldn't get a contract for any book she decided to write.
What she has is what I lack, and I don't mean the contract. I mean the swagger of being an author, the ownership that you write books for the world to read and you're confident they will all love them, and if they don't, you'll cry all the way to the bank. Every time I attempt this, I start feeling way too precious for my own skin and abandon it in favor of a hearty laugh.
Any suggestions, Authors? How does one go about developing the external presentation, the thing that announces to the world that of course you are An Author of Some Importance without letting it take you over until no one wants to talk to you? Do I need moves like Jagger or something?
I'm seriously looking for some suggestions. And blurbs. I wouldn't mind having some blurbs.
Friday, October 19, 2012
The silence of the blogs
No, I'm not talking about this guy.
I mean, my blog has been very hit or miss (BUY HIT OR MISSUS - sorry, couldn't resist a subconscious plug there) because I am working on two books, one being edited for publication and one being written, not to mention the several that are swirling on the back burner, waiting to be started.
In one sense, I do identify with Mr. Lector - figuratively. I do see myself being hogtied and masked from normal communications in order to complete my tasks. The writing doesn't do itself, kids.
So until I'm back, thought I'd leave you with some music.
I love this theme because it encompasses different types of music, which to me, echoes the movie's theme of the pioneering spirits who pushed into the West, a big, sprawling tapestry of land and climate and challenges. Makes me want to create a soundtrack for my books.
But I have to stay focused. Write, write, write.
I mean, my blog has been very hit or miss (BUY HIT OR MISSUS - sorry, couldn't resist a subconscious plug there) because I am working on two books, one being edited for publication and one being written, not to mention the several that are swirling on the back burner, waiting to be started.
In one sense, I do identify with Mr. Lector - figuratively. I do see myself being hogtied and masked from normal communications in order to complete my tasks. The writing doesn't do itself, kids.
So until I'm back, thought I'd leave you with some music.
I love this theme because it encompasses different types of music, which to me, echoes the movie's theme of the pioneering spirits who pushed into the West, a big, sprawling tapestry of land and climate and challenges. Makes me want to create a soundtrack for my books.
But I have to stay focused. Write, write, write.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
So... how's your weekend?
Personally, I seem to be recuperating.
I had scheduled some writing today, but my brain seems to be lagging. Noun? Verb? What speak is you language this?
Maybe I should keep my words little and sentences short.
I began the weekend with a few hours at Disneyland with my good buddy Tameri Etherton, who is just crazy fun. She was there to get pictures of the Halloween decorations. We were admittedly disappointed that California Adventure has no homage to Halloween at all. (Perhaps there are no holidays when you are having an adventure.) It was drizzling a little as we wandered around Faux-Fisherman's Wharf, desperately seeking coffee.
As if an Omen from Walt, the sun came out as soon as we hit the gates of Disneyland. After a thrilling ride on Big Thunder (where we might have frightened the small child in the next car by yelling things like, "Rattlesnake! Earthquake! Potted Light Fixture!"), we took the Jungle Cruise ride into deepest, darkest Anaheim.
There were two teenaged girls behind us in line, so Tameri was interested in what they read. Fantasy, the one girl said, which was perfect. Then she rattled off some of her favorite books, including Twilight. Oh, well.
Since the Indiana Jones ride was closed, we wandered a bit more through the park, then hit up downtown Disney for lunch and a trip to the candy store.
I got home in time to change clothes and go to the Placentia Library Jewel Reception, a dinner held by the Friends Foundation to thank their big donors (and by big, I mean anything over $100). It was super lovely. The library director, Jeanette, even let this guy out of Nadia's office. Nice young man, but a little too stiff to be any fun.
Saturday was the Placentia Heritage Parade and Festival, which meant rising at 5:30 ayem, getting completely dressed and made-up, in order to be in the parade. The parade didn't start til 9:30, but I had to be at Tri-City Park at 6:15 to unload and set up my author's booth. By 7:00 I needed coffee.
Here's the thing about me and coffee and mornings... we don't always play nice. Getting up uber-early upsets my stomach. I could use the coffee to wake me up, but if I drink it on an upset stomach, it only makes it angrier.
So no coffee.
By 9:30, my booth was ready, I was in the parade car, and everything was great.
The parade was so much fun! I waved until my arm ached. Then I waved with the other hand. Then I propped my arm on the car and waved some more. My face still hurts from the smiling.
My booth this year was not on the main path, so the bad news is, I didn't sell a lot of books. The good news is, I got two speaking engagements. The other bad news is, the way my booth was situated, people kept getting trapped behind me and walking through the middle of my booth to get to the path, tearing my sign loose. The good news is, Veronica from the Parks and Rec Department got two big "Road Closed" barricades and put them up to block people, AND I made friends with the cranky lady selling plush toys to my right.
After a day of excitement, I wanted to get into my jammies and relax, but instead, there was one more thing to do. Dale and I had to take Marcus out to his favorite restaurant for his birthday.
As usual, I announced his birthday to the waitress, who did the whole "it's your birthday, shake your booty," ritual of embarrassment. It may be his birthday, but it's my entertainment.
What did you all do this weekend?
I had scheduled some writing today, but my brain seems to be lagging. Noun? Verb? What speak is you language this?
Maybe I should keep my words little and sentences short.
I began the weekend with a few hours at Disneyland with my good buddy Tameri Etherton, who is just crazy fun. She was there to get pictures of the Halloween decorations. We were admittedly disappointed that California Adventure has no homage to Halloween at all. (Perhaps there are no holidays when you are having an adventure.) It was drizzling a little as we wandered around Faux-Fisherman's Wharf, desperately seeking coffee.
As if an Omen from Walt, the sun came out as soon as we hit the gates of Disneyland. After a thrilling ride on Big Thunder (where we might have frightened the small child in the next car by yelling things like, "Rattlesnake! Earthquake! Potted Light Fixture!"), we took the Jungle Cruise ride into deepest, darkest Anaheim.
 |
| We wish the animals wore Halloween masks! |
There were two teenaged girls behind us in line, so Tameri was interested in what they read. Fantasy, the one girl said, which was perfect. Then she rattled off some of her favorite books, including Twilight. Oh, well.
Since the Indiana Jones ride was closed, we wandered a bit more through the park, then hit up downtown Disney for lunch and a trip to the candy store.
 |
| "YUM!" |
I got home in time to change clothes and go to the Placentia Library Jewel Reception, a dinner held by the Friends Foundation to thank their big donors (and by big, I mean anything over $100). It was super lovely. The library director, Jeanette, even let this guy out of Nadia's office. Nice young man, but a little too stiff to be any fun.
Saturday was the Placentia Heritage Parade and Festival, which meant rising at 5:30 ayem, getting completely dressed and made-up, in order to be in the parade. The parade didn't start til 9:30, but I had to be at Tri-City Park at 6:15 to unload and set up my author's booth. By 7:00 I needed coffee.
Here's the thing about me and coffee and mornings... we don't always play nice. Getting up uber-early upsets my stomach. I could use the coffee to wake me up, but if I drink it on an upset stomach, it only makes it angrier.
So no coffee.
By 9:30, my booth was ready, I was in the parade car, and everything was great.
 |
| We're ready to roll out! |
The parade was so much fun! I waved until my arm ached. Then I waved with the other hand. Then I propped my arm on the car and waved some more. My face still hurts from the smiling.
 |
| Yes, I wore the tiara! |
My booth this year was not on the main path, so the bad news is, I didn't sell a lot of books. The good news is, I got two speaking engagements. The other bad news is, the way my booth was situated, people kept getting trapped behind me and walking through the middle of my booth to get to the path, tearing my sign loose. The good news is, Veronica from the Parks and Rec Department got two big "Road Closed" barricades and put them up to block people, AND I made friends with the cranky lady selling plush toys to my right.
After a day of excitement, I wanted to get into my jammies and relax, but instead, there was one more thing to do. Dale and I had to take Marcus out to his favorite restaurant for his birthday.
 |
| "Bucket o' Boat Trash" anyone? |
As usual, I announced his birthday to the waitress, who did the whole "it's your birthday, shake your booty," ritual of embarrassment. It may be his birthday, but it's my entertainment.
What did you all do this weekend?
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