Archive for the ‘Kelli Jae Baeli’ Category

Distracting Fiction: Brand vs. Generic

Recently, a reader mentioned my use of specific products in my books, and called it “distracting.”

brand_productsFirst of all, this reader I mentioned is from New Zealand, and I write toward an American audience. These product names and brands I might use are all familiar to American readers, and so it does create a clearer picture for them than it would a reader who might not even recognize what that some brands are. So the tendency to want generic, might be predicated on a need for familiarity. This is precisely the reason I don’t read books with foreign settings, or books like The Hobbit…I don’t want to be lost in that landscape, confused about what everything means. I detest that in my own life, in my own landscape. I like familiar things. They ground me. I like specificity. It keeps things clear.

Second, it not only provides more elbow room for variants in references (i.e., “she headed for the Audi.”  “She headed for the car.”  “She headed for the A7″) but it’s also a device for character development. For instance, not salad dressing, but Miracle Whip. Not wine, but Barefoot Pink Moscato. Not phone, but iPhone. Not shoes, but Napoli Trekkers. Not car, but Audi A7. Not coffee, but Hazelnut with White Chocolate Macadamia nut creamer (and in a mug with a cute kitten on it)….

fyiSIDEBAR: I also recall a reader mentioning that my character’s use of electronic cigarettes was distracting. Again, this is a product not yet in the common usage lexicon, psychologically. So a reader will notice it more. The same was true for tobacco in fiction, until it became passé  to have characters smoking. (Watch any old black and white movie and you will suddenly notice how EVERYONE is smoking. It will seem odd and distracting).

Also, a character is partly elucidated by the choices they make, to include the products they use, the cars they drive, the clothes they wear, the food they eat…Brand suggests many things–taste, income, personality, beliefs, weaknesses…so using a specific brand name is intentional. It helps me communicate what I want you to know about a character.

Over the years I’ve read many books in which the author used only generic references to everything. Wine, cardboardcutoutsdrink, sandwich, sedan, convertible, phone, coffee….and I always had the thoughts, what kind? I wonder if this character likes white or red wine? I wonder if this character buys American or foreign? I wonder if this character likes expensive shoes or cheap ones? It kept me from gaining a full appreciation of that character, and tended to make them cardboard cutouts–and I find THAT distracting.

One might argue, the story’s the thing. Yes, the story is the thing, (nice of you to bring that up) but there would be no story without the characters and who they are. Character is equally important. And that means any device that allows the reader to understand them on deeper levels, make them seem like real people in their lives, is one more chance to draw that reader in and get her to read your book.

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Diversify and Die

Kate_Dunedin_BeachNov12_480It’s so satisfying to sit at my desk and write to the sound of the ocean. Only this time, it’s not in my earbuds, but outside my window. Our move to Dunedin placed us within walking distance of the beach, and the rhythmic breath of the waves at shore soothes me. The cool, robust breeze from the water sometimes spits through our windows like a fire hose, but it helps regulate the temperature in this upstairs master suite, high above almost all other houses on this hillside. It’s Summer here, though luckily for me, the fall and winter-loving, heat-intolerant moi, there really hasn’t been much heat yet. Weather is weird everywhere, as I understand it.

Anyway, we’re finally settling in to our new home (not new, per se, but new to us), and we can both feel the pull of literary pursuits, engendered by the sense that the busy work of our lives calmed down, and we are able to deskpic16DDec12_320finally create some normal routines.

In OneNote, I have a tabbed list of blog ideas, just waiting for me to finish. Not so different from all the book ideas I also have–started or half-completed –just waiting for my attention. The problem isn’t that I don’t want to give my attention to them, it’s that I don’t have enough attention to go around. I really do look forward to the day when I can clone myself.

(Though Kate says in matters of sex, that would give her a heart attack.) teehee

That being said, (much to Kate’s chagrin) I will now give my attention to this blog post….

Kate and I talked a while back, before the move, about our writing–what our goals are, and the changes we are anticipating having to make.

In my quest to learn the craft of writing, I thought it would be helpful if I had the ability to write in any genre. bookgenresThus, over the years, I have managed to produce work in myriad categories. Fourteen, at last count. But it has become clear to me in recent months that my approach has not been wise. This diversification has only managed to erode the ground under my literary feet, and prevent me from getting a proper foothold in the market–especially when so many other writers have established theirs. And they are the ones who enjoy better sales. There’s a reason for that.

DeanKoontzspinesIt seems that most of THOSE-WHO-READ (myself included, though I made the error of thinking other readers behaved differently) tend to pick the type of book or author they like, or both, and then they continue to read that book/author. When they run out of an author’s work, they seek other authors who write in a similar genre and/or with a similar style. Thus, the readers who buy my books have read whichever genre of mine they are drawn to, and then discover there isn’t another book in that genre from me, and they move on to find those other authors they might also like who have books available which they have not read. This does not encourage a strong, growing readership.

Also, in diversifying myself as an author, I have failed to brand myself well enough to create the following that mybooks2012shelf_1268medprobably would have existed by now, after 29 books. Had those 29 books been in one genre, I would not have taken such a hit when digital publishing swelled to its current oceanic level. According to factzone.com, in America, a new book is published every 13 minutes. This groundswell of publishing is attributable to the ease with which we can now publish our work. Yes, that means more bad books from bad writers mucking up the booklist for the rest of us, but it also means more freedom, and demands that we employ smart-marketing techniques. Hence, the issue at hand with my diversification.

My highest sales occurred when I was writing in one genre for an extended period of time and had not gotten off that beaten path yet into nonfiction, for instance. Subsequently, my sales dropped. And right when I was getting used to having that rather large paycheck every month.

Kate also feels she needs to focus more on the mainstream horror genre she prefers to write in, and not give so much attention to the lesbian genre, which for a horror author, is a very small piece of the royalty pie. Not exactly a thriving subgenre yet.

The new plan for me is to refocus my energies on the lesbian fiction genre, even though I might not always write the same subgenre inside that. I need to rebrand myself as the author of a particular genre, and keep putting out books for it. It will mean rewriting what I have on five or six or seven partially completed books in order to fit my chosen genre, but the effort will probably be worth it. And I have noticed, in reframing those other stalled books, that it would solve the issues that stagnated them in the first place. Some of them were for the mainstream market and I just could not seem to get past a certain point with them. I suspect, because I should have been sticking with the one genre instead of branching out. Hopefully it will put me back on track to producing more books, more frequently.

{Cracking knuckles.} Now back to work.

typing2

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Also Known as Syzygy (The Next Big Thing Blog Hop)

typingsmileThe Next Big Thing Blog Hop, wherein writers talk about their current Work in Progress (WIP), has apparently been going strong for 26 weeks, and so many writers have taken part, that I had a hard time finding the originator of the idea… I could have found it, eventually, but then, that would have me spending way too much time on Google, and not enough writing. I’ve been guilty of that before. Guilty of that often. Guilty. Most of the time. Did I mention I’m legally changing my middle name to Google? But this NBT Blog Hop thing has taken root in cyberspace and it’s spreading. It’s like an Internet fungus. Okay, that was too pejorative to say about a vocation I love. Kudzu? No…let’s see….how about it’s blossoming like a well-tended garden?

So wherever it came from, it found its way to me, via my favorite novelist, Kate Genet, who tagged me to participate. Now, I must say, if I’m going to get tagged, there’s no one I’d rather be TAGGED BY than Kate Genet. (I speak with appreciable credibility because she is my soon-to-be-wife, and did tag me just the other night, or did I tag her?didisaythat

Mmm…I digress. In the most delicious way…).

 

So I’m it, and here it goes….

 

What is the working title of your book?

Also Known as Syzygy. It was just “Syzygy” but then the book intertwines with my series (AKA Investigations), and now I’m thinking I might have to use the AKA tag. I have mentioned this book in one of my most recent posts, Prequels, Sequels, & Spinoffs

Where did the idea for the book come from?

Syzygyfrcvr_15Dec12_248It sprang from the first draft pages of my AKA Investigations Series, Book 3. I was getting so bogged down in the plot machinations, filling my dry erase board and desk pad and index cards with scribbles and bubbles and off-shoot ideas….and suddenly my main characters had been pushed into the background, and the secondary and tertiary characters were taking over the story. So in a fit of brilliance (which looks very much like a Grand Mal seizure, and may or may not have come from Kate–though she doesn’t have seizures when she has ideas) I figured out that maybe I was trying to write two different books–maybe this other one wanted to be written first.

But because of this intertwining with the main characters of my AKA series, I was dealing with a whole new species–at least for me. Syzygy is like a spinoff-prequel, as the events in it happen parallel to the other story of my main characters, with only a slight difference in timeline. But the book was unique also in that it wasn’t just a sequel or a spinoff, but it was an alternate point of view, in the sense of not being the usual First Person or Third Person Omniscient, but Third Person Limited, and also in the sense that details about the events behind the scenes, going on with the other characters, during the same storyline. I found the concept fiercely intriguing.

 What genre does the book fall under?

I always have trouble with this because my books cross so many genres, and I like the mix of them in one book. I’ve never been big on formulas. I want the story to tell itself without the restriction of a literary box. But, of course, we have to choose a category when we publish, and so I would call it Mainstream-Lesbian-PsychologicalSuspense-Mystery-Adventure——-drat… It’s really more about bad people being bad, and women being people, not women being lesbians. Although there are lesbians as main characters. Did you get that?

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

In this current one, I don’t have that many in mind…I see Sara Ramirez (Dr. Callie Torres from Grey’s Anatomy) in the role of Detective Ginger Grant. For the others, I have pictures in my Pinterest account for some of them, but they are just models (usually for hairstyle mags) that have a sort of look I imagine. I have to do this because I have trouble holding images of them in my head. That’s a weird visual cortex sort of thing for me, so I collect images of my characters and sometimes the other “props” and locations in my books.

What is the one line synopsis of your book?

On December 3, 2012, Saturn, Venus & Mercury will align. On that same night, three women align to see that justice is done.

What is the long version of the synopsis?

(not a final version, but just because you asked)

Ponzi Bonnet thought she had found the perfect husband. A psychologist could certainly understand her damage. But her suspicion of his infidelity turns out to be something far worse. Far more sinister. And he had to be stopped.

Kenda Harper, an actress and Ponzi’s best friend, will do anything to help. Even if it means endangering her own life and denying the yearning in her heart.

Anna Dew, an artist and HSP, could not tell her friend Ponzi why she pulled away, but when she learns that her decision only enabled bad men to do bad things, she is compelled to make it right.

Three women, finding strength amid their weaknesses, embarking on a common journey into darkness, and the labyrinths of selfhood, match wits with the men who would inflict harm on other women, and they won’t give up until justice is done.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I’m an Indie Author and Publisher so, self-published. I prefer to have creative control over everything. I turned down two book contracts because they would not have done any more for me than I can do for myself, and I make about 80% of the profits, whereas with a publisher, I would have gotten 15%. And to make sure the cover doesn’t end up looking like some dime-store Harlequin from the 50′s (as I’ve noticed is the case with many lesbian presses).

And I don’t like someone telling me what I can and cannot write. I write what I want to write, what I feel needs to be written; this way, I also don’t have deadlines, so this allows me the freedom I prefer. Even if that freedom includes lounging in bed too long with Kate.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I had been trying to write Book 3 of AKA series for the last year or so, but life got in the way. I was experiencing a dry spell in my creativity for the first time in my career. Too much was happening to me, and somehow I lost track of my muse. I found her again (her name is Kate Genet, as mentioned above). Once I figured out that the book I was working on was really two books, I think it took about two and a half months, writing intermittently. My production always speeds up when I get about three-quarters of it done–on those days I might write 3000 to 7000 words. So the first draft is done now, and I will do the rewrites and corrections when my darling Kate finishes reading it and hands over her notes.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

This book was not a conscious decision…I didn’t say, oh, I want to write about yadda-yadda…the characters began to take over and seemed to have a bigger story to tell than what I was giving them, so I listened to that. As I swam deeper into it, I recognized certain motifs and themes which were unintentional in a conscious sense, but there were patterns there, and I realized it was a story that needed to be told; there are things happening behind the scenes that the general public might have no inkling of. Dark things. Things that make the rest of us appreciate what we have.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?

This book is a departure for me–appropriate for a spinoff, eh? ;^)  The style and tone is even different than my usual fare–it’s darker, for one thing. I most often mix humor and drama to create “dramedy” when I write a story. I prefer that handsagainstglasscombination. But this one did not lend itself to much humor and I had to intentionally go back and add some levity by creating some other characters. It worked out well, because those characters turned out to be important to the plot. But Syzygy is written in Third Person Limited, from various Points of View. My books are generally either First Person Limited or Third Person Omniscient Narrator. Thus, in this book I was taxed with the need to write from the mind of characters I neither liked nor fully understood. I had to write their thoughts, when those thoughts were abhorrent to me. I had to imagine what their motivations were, and how they would respond to certain situations, when I could not even fathom being in that situation in the first place. I also found that tense and point of view was a real beast for me to keep control of. I made some very amateur mistakes and am thankful for the proofing and beta reading Kate has been doing for me…she has spotted many things I missed, and forced me out of my comfort zone.

Now, when I write the Book 3 (or maybe it will be 3.5? or 4?) I will have to be mindful that everything that happens there has to match the timeline and most of the details in Syzygy, but just shifted into the POV of the other characters. That’s going to be a challenge. This whole book was a huge challenge, but I never want to be accused of writing the same story over and over, so I’m perfectly content to let characters and stories surprise me.

That’s where most of the joy is, anyway.

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E Pluribus Unum, dammit

I’m sorry, but I just had to post this. One of my friends on Facebook (who believes in god and I suppose considers herself a christian) posted this sign, which she apparently found inspiring. As this sort of thing continues to piss me off, I had to comment on it:

Jae Baeli What FAILED was religion insinuating and then forcing itself into our government. The sign above just represents ANOTHER ABSOLUTELY FALSE belief. The country was NOT founded on In God We Trust or God or religion or CHristian principles… This was adopted as the motto of the US in 1956 (nowhere NEAR the founding of this country). It replaced the original motto, on which we WERE FOUNDED: E pluribus unum, which means “out of many, one”–it was founded on SECULAR principles. The Constitution begins: “We the people of the United States, in order to form a more perfect union…” PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the original documents and brush up on true history. This is the lie that religious zealots continue to spread.

 

 

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“mixture of humor, gut wrenching terror & emotional heartbreak amongst the action and romance” Review

Review of Also Known as DNA

by Terry at Affinity eBooks

AKA Investigations Series Book 2

Jobeth O’Brien and her partner, Phoebe McMasters, are enjoying a peaceful life together on Manor Lane in Colorado after moving from Oklahoma. Jobeth has her P.I License and has her own agency, AKA Investigations. Their new start together is suddenly interrupted by ghosts from the past.

First of all, Jobeth’s estranged sister Izzy turns up out of the blue. At first Jobeth and Izzy don’t appear to get on too well together. But as they get to know one another, that changes. Izzy turns out to be more like Jobeth than either of them thought.

Phoebe’s past comes back to haunt her. In fact, it causes heartbreak for both Phoebe and Jobeth in a big way.

Ginger, Jobeth and Phoebe’s detective friend, has moved to Colorado with them and occupies the cottage behind their house. Ginger is looking for love. Will she find it? Ginger and Izzy appear to get on well together. But Izzy is a lot younger than Ginger and she’s not into relationships. Will Ginger get her heart broken?

It will take the ingenuity of all four of these women to get rid of the ghosts from the past. But will they be able to keep themselves alive to outwit the deranged felons?

***

Even though the plot to this story stretched my imagination a bit, I actually thoroughly enjoyed the story.

I loved Jobeth, Phoebe and Ginger from Armchair Detective and to have them back again is a true pleasure. Izzy has joined the three other women and her character has fit right in with the others. They all interact so well together and play an essential part in furthering the story.

I don’t want to add any spoilers in here, but suffice it say that the story is a rollercoaster ride of twists and turns throughout. There are so many ups and downs, the book is a real page turner from start to finish.

There is a mixture of humor, gut wrenching terror and emotional heartbreak amongst the action and romance. If anything, this story is even better than the first one. Both books are standalone, but I would strongly advise reading Armchair Detective first. It gives more of the characters background. Plus you would be missing out on another good book if you don’t.

I’m hoping there will be another in this series soon.

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“well written and fast paced page turner from start to finish” Review

REVIEW of ARMCHAIR DETECTIVE

from Terry at Affinity eBooks.

Armchair Detective

An AKA Investigations Book

Amateur unlicensed Private Detective, Jobeth O’Brien, is living on the breadline, she’s not even keeping her head above water. Her night time job delivering newspapers doesn’t even begin to pay the bills. She’s hiding a secret which prevents her from getting her private investigators license. The one thing she has to her name that she loves, is her 1962 Falcon.

Jobeth meets rich socialite, Phoebe McMasters while she’s delivering her newspapers. Jobeth is smitten. Unfortunately, Phoebe is married and straight, isn’t she? Apparently not! The back seat of the Falcon sees more action than it’s probably ever seen before.

During the course of Jobeth’s investigations into the prostitution and blackmail case she’s on, she finds herself being battered, shot at, bitten by a Pit Bull and many other injuries she hadn’t bargained for. She also makes a startling discovery which alters the course of her friendship with Phoebe.

Jobeth is fast falling in love with Phoebe. Will her feelings be reciprocated? Or will Phoebe reject her like everyone else has throughout her life?

Meanwhile, Jobeth has a case to solve. Will she have the experience to solve it? Will she even be able to keep herself from harm? Someone out there wants her dead and will stop at nothing to kill her.

***

I honestly don’t know what took me so long to discover Kelli Jae Baeli’s books. But now that I have, I’m totally hooked.

I love the two main characters in this book, Jobeth and Phoebe. They are both adorable, multidimensional characters and they interact wonderfully with the rest of the characters.

The story starts out a little bit hit and miss in that the plot is a bit haphazard, a touch unbelievable. But that’s only for a tiny part, it soon picks up until there are so many twists and turns and ups and downs, I didn’t know if I was on a rollercoaster ride or a merry-go-round.

The overall story is a well written and fast paced page turner from start to finish. A real edge of the seat read that I couldn’t put down. The romance is hot and steamy, but does not over shadow the private investigation story the book is about. In my opinion, the balance is perfect.

I already have book two in this series as these books have been out a while. Don’t let that stop you from giving this a try though. I’m going to be buying any lesfic book Kelli Jae Baeli writes from now on.

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Prequels, Sequels, & Spinoffs

Syzygy. Amazingly, the only English word with three Y’s also happens to describe a rare astronomical event involving three heavenly bodies. A syzygy is the alignment of three celestial bodies in a straight line…

On December 3, 2012, Saturn, Venus & Mercury will align. On that same night, 3 women align to see that justice is done.

Ponzi Bonnet thought she had found the perfect husband. A psychologist could certainly understand her damage. But her suspicion of infidelity turns out to be something far worse. Far more sinister. And he had to be stopped.

This new book I’m working on–and almost finished with–is altogether different from any of my others. For one, it’s darker. I usually like to write “dramedy”– an equal mixture of drama and comedy. And I lean toward romantic – suspense – adventure -style plots. The plot in Syzygy is adventuresome, but perhaps that’s where the similarity ends. It deals with some darker subjects. Some disturbing places in the human psyche. I’m not sure of it…I haven’t even let Kate read any of it. She will be acting as my first Beta reader, because I want an impression based on the entire book, without any foreknowledge of content. (Just like most readers get to approach a book). But this has also made it more challenging, because I can’t discuss it with her to help me work things out–to be fair, or to perhaps torture me, she is also keeping mum on her current book (Irrevocable). I will be Beta reader on that one too.

So here’s what happened….I had been working on the 3rd in my AKA Investigations series and I was having trouble with it. Not surprising, after having so much trouble in the last couple of years with the writing…huge changes, huge challenges, and so much had been happening in my life to suck the muse right out of my head…(any of you who read my blog regularly are familiar with what I’m referring to). So I continued to struggle with this one…and then I realized what the problem was. Oddly, I was having trouble getting my MAIN characters in the book after the halfway point. Not a good sign. One of the subplots had started growing and I found that my main characters were being left out in favor of a couple of minor characters. So I thought, well maybe there’s another book heremaybe I’m trying to write two books. So I snatched out the plotline and characters from that portion and put it in a separate file and began to work on it–feeling like I was sort of “cheating” on my other characters by doing so. But it was pushing me to be written. Those characters were being insistent. They had a story to tell and they wanted me to tell it.

So. I was surprised about this new book. It wasn’t even on the docket.

SIDEBAR. I have been trying for years now to get all the other books written that are waiting in line. Some half-done, some just ideas. Like Quintessence, Somewhere Else, Curse of Madagascar, Another Justice, The Girls in the Band, and newer ones like, Hanging the Moon [with Kate Genet], Behind the Left: Authoring the Apocalypse, and a sequel to Resurrection Sticks –and those are just the fiction ones

This book, Syzygy, is also a concept-novel. A concept I came up with–not sure if anyone else ever came up with it too, but for me at least, it’s a new idea…it’s what I might call a spinoff-prequel. The new book sprang from the events and secondary characters of the original one. I started thinking about how interesting it would be to know more about those characters–like, what was happening in THEIR lives, that was just outside the purview of the plot in the book I was working on? What might that scene be like if it was written from the point of view of that other character? So then, an entirely new story evolved, but it was based on the original story in the AKA book. Only, it focused on those secondary characters, making them main characters, and then the main characters from the AKA book became the secondary characters in the new book. So here, I have a timeline of events, and in Syzygy, I’m telling the story of Ponzi Bonnet, Kenda Harper, Anna Dew, Garrison Bishop and Payne Hollister. And in AKA, I’m telling the story during the same timeline but through the characters of Jobeth, Phoebe, Izzy and Ginger. It almost means I need to write both of these books and release them at the same time, but that might be too maddening. So I think I will finish and release Syzygy first, since its timeline might be a little earlier, by about a week or two, than the AKA book. It would also give away less than the AKA book would, if I did that one first. I don’t want to have one book serving as a SPOILER for the other.

I feel like I’m rambling. I’m on first cup of coffee…NOTE TO SELF. Don’t ramble. anyway…

It’s a different sort of challenge, as it’s almost like writing a series, but slightly different…I have to think about what I write in Syzygy affecting what I’ll be writing in the 3rd AKA book. I have to make sure I don’t contradict things. Like I can’t have two different things happening to a character at the same time

(or can I?….. STOP IT.)

All of this has me thinking that there are all these other stories that can stem from stories I’ve written. The other perspectives. The other characters who play a minor role, but have an entire world of their own going on during those events. It’s also a way to create a thread of interest in readership–those who enjoy my books will find alternate stories that are peripheral to the ones they’ve already read. I find the whole concept fascinating. I hope a reader would, too. I have recently been concerned about my literary diversification–I do myself no favors by gaining a reader who then reads a certain genre of mine and realizes there aren’t any more of those yet, but that I jumped over and wrote nonfiction, or in some other genre…. (That’s another blog I wrote half of, but haven’t posted yet).

Jeez. I’m scattered.

Did I mention we’re moving 2 hours away in a week?

Yeah. got that nonfiction stuff to deal with too.

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No More Hall-Decking for You Guys

Excerpt from Supernatural Hypocrisy: The Cognitive Dissonance of a God Cosmology

by

Kelli Jae Baeli

 

Available now in ebook formats-CLICK COVER“Twelve Jews were brutally murdered, huge numbers maimed, and many Jewish women were raped. Two million rubles worth  of property was destroyed.” ~ Lawrence Kelleman

 

Isn’t Christmas a wonderful time of year?

Consider this:

Thus says the LORD, Do not learn the way of the nations, And do not be terrified by the signs of the Heavens, although the nations are terrified by them; For the customs of the peoples are delusion; Because it is wood cut from the forest, The work of the hands of a craftsman with a cutting tool. They decorate it with silver and with gold; They fasten it with nails and with hammers So that it will not totter” (Jeremiah 10:2-4).

Okay, that’s it for all you Christmas-tree-hugging Christians. If you believe in what the Bible tells you, there will be no more Christmas trees or decorating!

Thou mustest not decketh the halls!

And lest you think the tree is the only borrowed symbol or tradition practiced by the God-fearing, allow me to shed a little light in a dark place.

In ancient Babylon, the date of December 25th was a celebration in honor of the son of Isis, the Goddess of Nature.

In Rome, long before the birth of Christ, the Winter Solstice day of Saturnalia was celebrated in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture. The Mummers, who went house to house, singing and dancing, sprang from this celebration, and from it, the tradition of caroling.

Northern Europeans celebrated Yule, on Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, in honor of the birth of the sun god, Mithra. Kissing under the mistletoe began there, as a fertility ritual. Evergreen trees were brought indoors to remind them of the coming harvest.

Even the Druids had a ritual around a tree.

Since pagan Romans were in the majority in the year 350, Pope Julius I declared that the birth of Christ would be celebrated on December 25th, so as not to alienate them, and in hopes that they would convert to Christianity a bit more easily if they could keep the date of their feasts. The ritual of gift-giving began in Rome, as well:

In pre-Christian Rome, the emperors compelled their most despised citizens to bring offerings and gifts during the Saturnalia (in December) and Kalends (in January).  Later, this ritual expanded to include gift-giving among the general populace.  The Catholic Church gave this custom a Christian flavor by re-rooting it in the supposed gift-giving of Saint Nicholas (Miles).

The history of Saint Nicolas began in Turkey, where Nicolas was a bishop who convened the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE. After his death December 6, 345 CE, he was idolized, and eventually became the central figure when his bones were moved to Italy, and he replaced Pasqua Epiphania, “The Grandmother,” who used to put gifts for children in stockings. When The Grandmother was ousted, Nicolas became the focus of gift-giving. This cult made its way to Germany, where Nicolas was merged with the god Woden, and the white beard, winter clothing and his travel on a flying horse became the norm.

In a quest for adherents, the Catholic church adopted the Nicolas figure, and encouraged the pagans to exchange gifts on December 25th, rather than on the 6th. He soon became known by the Dutch version of his name, Santa Claus. The rest is just the natural progression of time and tradition.

Christmas, then, is not a history of Christian celebration of the birth of Christ. It is more accurately a time when Jews were tortured and murdered, and a modified incarnation of the most reprehensible pagan rituals ever known. Here’s why:

The pagans of Rome would force one community member to partake in debauchery and gluttony, and then when the festival ended on December 25th, they would destroy the dark forces by killing him.

Some of the most depraved customs of the Saturnalia carnival were intentionally revived by the Catholic Church in 1466 when Pope Paul II, for the amusement of his Roman citizens, forced Jews to race naked through the streets of the city.  An eyewitness account reports, “Before they were to run, the Jews were richly fed, so as to make the race more difficult for them and at the same time more amusing for spectators. They ran… amid Rome’s taunting shrieks and peals of laughter, while the Holy Father stood upon a richly ornamented balcony and laughed heartily (Kertzer).

In Warsaw, on December 25, 1881,

Twelve Jews were brutally murdered, huge numbers maimed, and many Jewish women were raped. Two million rubles worth of property was destroyed (Kelleman).

Julius Streicher, a particularly depraved assistant to Hitler, wrote a Christmas editorial to Der Stuermer, an Anti-Semitic newspaper. In it, he said,

If one really wants to put an end to the continued prospering of this curse from Heaven that is the Jewish blood, there is only one way to do it: to eradicate this people, this Satan’s son, root and branch.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

And that’s not the only thing that Christians don’t understand about their own beliefs. Many common themes and terminology don’t stem from the actual scriptures.

Dan Barker, an ex-Christian minister and author of many essays and several books, including, Losing Faith in Faith: From Preacher to Atheist, confronts this.

The next time believers tell you that “separation of church and state” does not appear in our founding document, tell them to stop using the word “trinity.” The word “trinity” appears nowhere in the Bible. Neither does Rapture, or Second Coming, or Original Sin. If they are still unfazed (or unphrased) by this, then add Omniscience, Omnipresence, Supernatural, Transcendence, Afterlife, Deity, Divinity, Theology, Monotheism, Missionary, Immaculate Conception, Christmas, Christianity, Evangelical, Fundamentalist, Methodist, Catholic, Pope, Cardinal, Catechism, Purgatory, Penance, Transubstantiation, Excommunication, Dogma, Chastity, Unpardonable Sin, Infallibility, Inerrancy, Incarnation, Epiphany, Sermon, Eucharist, the Lord’s Prayer, Good Friday, Doubting Thomas, Advent, Sunday School, Dead Sea, Golden Rule, Moral, Morality, Ethics, Patriotism, Education, Atheism, Apostasy, Conservative (Liberal is in), Capital Punishment, Monogamy, Abortion, Pornography, Homosexual, Lesbian, Fairness, Logic, Republic, Democracy, Capitalism, Funeral, Decalogue, or Bible.

 

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Stranger Fiction, Reviews & Truthiness

Historically, there has been a notable chasm between the author’s craft and the reading public’s knowledge of what that craft includes.  And until recently, we never heard much from authors on a personal level about what they thought and felt, what their creative process was, what their methodology entailed. Nor could readers communicate with their favorite authors in any meaningful way.

Now, with the advent of Indie authoring and publishing, writers and readers may actually converse with each other. It might spoil the mystique of being a writer– that romantic idea of an angst-ridden wordsmith closed up in a candlelit room with coffee (or whiskey), manipulating a magical, torturous process that at some point produced viola!–a book. But I feel it’s a positive change. For the record, I love coffee, enjoy a glass of wine, am quite fond of candles, and do sometimes want to pull my hair out during the writing process. But I genuinely enjoy the open discussion about my books with readers who contact me via email, or during a bookclub meeting.

Unless an author is afflicted with narcissism, she will always carry a degree of insecurity about her writing. A book is, after all, a birthing of a literary child, and we feel that when we put it out into the world, we want it to do well, and never want anyone to speak an ill word against it.

I have been fortunate to have four and five star reviews most of the time, but the more I write, the more readers I get, the more I will come across the occasional comment or review which isn’t quite as complimentary. I’ve been lucky in that regard, as well, since the few negative comments I have received are within a context of the reader giving the book high marks overall.

I communicated recently with a reader who liked my book very much, but had a few points that bothered her. These complaints were, shall we say, not rooted in fact. I wrote back to her and explained in detail those things that bothered her, and I won’t include that exact text here, because it has far too many spoilers in it. But in general, I will mention a few points that readers have brought up.

One reader said of Book 2 in the AKA Investigation series, Also Known as DNA, “credit for the author for allowing the protaganist [sic] to get the snot kicked out of her on a few occasions and to make mistakes which gives her a more realistic feel.”

And then another who said, “skilled people, especially those 4 should not have been portrayed as that stupid and helpless.”

Opposite opinions about the same thing.

First, I have NEVER portrayed any of my characters as stupid or helpless, unless I was portraying them that way on purpose because they actually were stupid and helpless in the pejorative sense. My protagonists were only portrayed that way if they were stupid and helpless in the universal, unavoidable sense. I’ve known some truly intelligent people who did some patently stupid things–myself included. And I’ve known some really competent people who found themselves in a position of helplessness–myself included. There are myriad reasons why this will happen, no matter how learned, how wise, how strong, or how discerning you might be. Circumstances and emotions and outside forces can conspire to render you incapable–if only for a time–of doing anything to make it better. And these same elements can also prevent you from making the right choice. We all make mistakes, and I will not give my characters some heroic white-washing, when that’s not an accurate portrayal of how human beings are. Please and thank you. But in the context of fiction, obstacles allow the character to evolve. We learn about ourselves and others through adversity; and a good writer will do this with characters by showing how they might face these obstacles and conquer them.

Then there was another reader who really enjoyed the book, but said she was annoyed by a few plot issues. Like “There was no explanation to why [sic] the bike was run off the road by the person that [sic] did it. they wouldn’t have known each other at that point.”

There WAS an explanation, but it was in the subtext, and then actually explained in the dialogue between characters later. Once the full story came out, it was clear that what the main characters knew at first, was not what the villains knew. The antagonists had been involved the whole time and operating just out of the purview of the protagonists. When it finally came to light what had REALLY been happening, it was a matter of putting two and two together. The antagonists were working their plan around the protagonists long before the protagonists knew the antagonists even existed. So it might SEEM that the antagonists /protagonists couldn’t have “known” but that was intentional-viewpoint, meant to align the reader with the main characters, and NOT the villains. I wanted the reader to know only what the primary characters knew, so that when the truth was revealed, she would be just as surprised as those characters. It’s simply a literary device, nothing more.

This same reader also mentioned “the timeline for the day of the seminar doesn’t add up. too many things happened simultaneously to have all happened within the same day by [sic] the same people.”

I had to tell this reader, point by point, what happened in that day, to show her that it did, indeed, fit into the timeframe. I work everything out on a linear time chart and am very careful to make sure everything is possible, down to knowing how long it takes to do a particular thing, what time of day it is, and how long it takes a character to get from point A to Point B. It’s what I call Novel Logistics. This, then, was a perception on the part of the reader which was not accurate. It seemed as if that much couldn’t happen, but it’s also an intentional element of PACING. If you want the pacing to be fast, there has to be a lot happening in a short amount of time.

But the point here is, while I have made (and will continue to make) mistakes (and corrected the ones I’ve found or others have pointed out later), I care a great deal about my credibility. So it’s a bit aggravating for a writer to see that a reader will criticize something based on an impression that is rooted in their misunderstanding of what is happening, and how, and when. But there’s little an author can do about the ability of a reader to catch nuances and subtext, and even clear explanations that might come later.

Another issue from the above reader was “the confrontation with the enemy. the chasing, captures and recaptures and mountains, etc… was frustrating.” –this, when all other readers who commented, noted how much delicious tension and suspense this activity created for them. Like this reader, who wrote, “So many authors build up tension in their novels only to resolve everything in a matter of 15 pages. This is so frustrating and just plain lazy in my opinion. The last 15% of [Also Known as DNA] is wrought with tension and I was surprised and captivated the whole time” and another who said, “Nail-biting action and heart-stopping tension take the reader on a roller-coaster ride through the pages, piling one catastrophe on top of another and testing the characters to the limit. I wasn’t sure they’d all make it out alive in this one, but it sure had me turning the pages to find out.”

So–it’s all very subjective, isn’t it?

My partner Kate astutely pointed out, “This is why you shouldn’t read reviews.” I’m not certain she meant you in the universal sense or you in the sense of ME, personally, but probably good advice, overall. Be that as it may, reviews are a way for me to see what’s working in my writing, and what’s not, regardless of how many readers might also not catch the subtext, or might not enjoy being pulled through too many challenges with the characters, or might not have an accurate assessment of a timeline.

One reader said that the beginning of Armchair Detective had implausible parts in the plot regarding how Jobeth was hired as an unlicensed P.I., but what that reader didn’t know was that it was all true, based on my own personal history. My experience as an amateur sleuth some years ago, was what inspired the story in the first place. Everything I write is either from personal experience or that of another’s, or if it’s completely fabricated, I consult with authorities on the matter to ensure that it is plausible and credible. This is why when I write about medical things, I speak to nurses and doctors, and when I write of legal things I talk to attorneys, and when I write of police matters, I speak to police officers. There is no greater resource for a character’s job, than those who do the job every day.

Ultimately, what all this tells me is:

First, an opinion isn’t always a fact.
Second, you can’t please everyone.
And third, and most importantly, (and with the most paradoxical irony), this concept: I may have failed to do the best job on a book, if I didn’t make the fiction seem like truth, even if the truth seemed like fiction.

Truth is, as the adage goes, stranger than fiction, and thus, when it appears, it is perceived as lacking credibility, even though FICTION is, by definition, NOT TRUE. So there will always be readers who lament the lack of credibility in some aspect of fiction, when many times the depiction is accurate, it just doesn’t SEEM accurate. So therefore, we, as fiction writers have to be careful to be credible and realistic, while lying our collective asses off. Are you following this?

(Where is my medication?)

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The Handmaid’s Tale: An American Dream Gone Awry

Throughout our recent election process, I kept thinking about how a Romney presidency would begin to remind me of The Handmaid’s Tale, the dystopian novel by Margaret Atwood. It reminded me that I wrote a paper on this book years ago in college. I don’t seem to have it compiled in any of my published anthologies, so i thought i would post it here. It’s a timely piece of literature still, which does not speak well of our republic. The Tea-Party is just the sort of organization to bring this dystopian theocracy to fruition. Hopefully those things are back on the road to change, now that we have 4 more years with Obama.

 

The Handmaid’s Tale

 An American Dream Gone Awry

Kelli Jae Baeli
(c)1990

In today’s futuristic literature, one can find the foreshadowing of tomorrow’s issues splattered upon today’s newspapers.

Margaret Atwood’s  The Handmaid’s Tale is a haunting portrayal of the American Dream gone awry.  In the pages of this ominous novel, one finds echoes of a past not unlike our present, and a future twisted by the repercussions of religious zeal and environmental devastation. Many of the horrors reflected by the handmaid who narrates represent the agenda of issues touted by feminists: sexism, pollution, Christian-Fundamentalism’s dangerous inclinations, and racism.

The Handmaid’s Tale is a chilling look at a futuristic society wherein the government rules through oppression, deprivation, and threat of execution.  Atwood’s vision is at once frightening and credible, illustrating a scenario that demands attention and consideration from all–whether they believe in the power of the American Dream, or not.

The Handmaid’s Tale uses the Republic of Gilead as its setting, and the themes of the American Dream are played out upon this stage; the players easily represent the crude underbelly of current-day society and its victims.  Christian- Fundamentalists, after a coop which results in the machine-gun execution of Congress and the President, usurp the freedoms which Americans once enjoyed. Reading has been outlawed; personal property is now a thing of the past; all liberties are taken from the citizens of Gilead, so that it is reduced to a tyrannical theocracy.  This is Atwood’s fictional rendition of the New World.

The Christian-Fundamentalist government in The Handmaid’s Tale has taken as its basic tenets the teachings of the Old Testament and interprets all scripture in a literal sense.  This includes the procreation process as depicted in the  book of Genesis wherein Rachel offers Jacob her maid, Bilhah, as a surrogate when Rachel

is unable to conceive.  In Atwood’s Gilead, this surrogate motherhood is a must; a ghastly combination of pollution and environmental apathy has left many women sterile.  With the extinction of the human race so threatened, the conception of

children is assigned to the those women with “viable ovaries.” A monthly ceremony is acted out by each Commander, his barren wife, and the fertile handmaid.  Restricted to clinical, procreative purposes only, the Commander inseminates the handmaid assigned to him while the Wife holds the handmaid between her legs in a ritualistic manner.

The Old Testament’s influence is further reflected in the names of shops which deal in goods and produce.  The handmaid is sent with a token card representing the items her household wishes to obtain (all paper money has been banned), and she makes her purchases from shops such as  “All Flesh,” “Loaves and Fishes,” “Lilies of the Field,” and “Daily Bread.”  On her trip to the marketplace, she walks with another handmaid, each of them exchanging puritan-like greetings: “Blessed be the fruit” and “May the Lord open.” Every detail in the Republic of Gilead is arranged as a continual reminder of the religious dogma upon which their very existence depends.

Although Gilead is patriarchal in structure, women are at the center of its operation.  The women of Gilead are merely a sad facsimile of the future-woman that today’s feminists wish for. The axiom, “Be careful what you wish for–you just might get it” seems to apply here.  In Gilead, women are respected only for their role in the Republic, and considering the strong role females play, it is not surprising that the crime of rape is punished by placing the offender amid a crowd of handmaids, who proceed to beat, kick, scratch, and bludgeon him to death.  This ritual

serves as a deterrent to those who would disrupt the valuable procreative process and also recruits in the handmaids a sacredness toward their reproductive duties; this component perpetuates the masterplan of the government.

Within the general understanding of the American Dream, there is also a respect for reason, and though the crime of rape is no less reprehensible than in the Gileadean era, the perpetrator is at least entitled to due process, and vengeance is considered contrary to the true nature of justice.  Likewise, reason is ignored by the Republic in its view of friendship as another threat to the government;  the distortion of reason is also represented by the perception that freedom of the individual to act out that individuality is strictly insidious.

Progress is achieved in Gilead through a stringent, imperious process of cultural distinction.  Classes and races of people are judged and punished according to literal Biblical teachings, as well: The “Children of Ham” are relocated, Jews are sent back to Israel, and undesireables, et al  (Catholics, homosexuals, Quakers, abortionists, etc.) are sent to “the Colonies.”  Handmaids who fail to perform satisfactorily are also doomed to the Colonies wherein the inmates dispose of deadly pollutants and subsequently die slowly of chemical poisoning.

Depending on the severity of the crime, undesirables can also look forward to public execution, their bodies hung on hooks along the wall around the city in a macabre display of power.

The “work-ethic” ingredient of the American Dream is overturned in The Handmaid’s Tale.  Duties and positions in the society are assigned according to each person’s usefulness to the general philosophy of Gilead.  Fertile women  become handmaids; affluent women become Wives; older, able-bodied women become Marthas (domestic servants), and some become Aunts– sort of the Drill Sergeants in charge of other women. Men are either Commanders or servants or valuable professionals.  Accordingly, the element of marriage and family in the American Dream is regressed to a pre-Christ patriarchy that avoids all semblance of individual freedom.  Thus, the family unit, which is a staple of the American Dream, is warped into some cruel mockery of the freedoms once enjoyed by American citizens.

There are, as one might expect, rebel factions at work in the underground of this hellish kingdom who hold dear the Old World in The Handmaid’s Tale.  These Old World values are familiar and alarming to the reader because it is the world in which the reader lives; Atwood incarnates this New World by momentarily suspending the reader’s disbelief, and this tale suddenly becomes plausible. Gilead is entangled with the infamous Armageddon outside the walls of the city, and the struggle for restoration of the Old World continues despite the government’s attempts to conquer it.  Perhaps this illustrates the spirit of the American Dream–patriotism.  These rebel forces operate with the knowledge that if one of its members is caught, he or she will most assuredly pay the price with his or her own life.  Yet, life to them is meaningless unless they have some say in how they live it, and thus, the mentality of New World versus Old World is brought boldly to life.

If the American Dream is a vision of utopia, then The Handmaid’s Tale is most certainly a dystopia, as it contains a plethora of details regarding the oppressive existence of an imprisoned people, once free.  Atwood paints an ugly portrait of a future society starved for a new Eden, with its land of plenty.  The “plenty” offered in the Republic of Gilead, however, is plenty of oppression.

In The Handmaid’s Tale the pursuit of the American Dream is counter- productive.  Gilead is the result of fanatics who sought to create the perfect society, yet manage to create a living hell. They are blinded by the pursuit of the dream itself and have, in the process, lost large segments of their own humanity. Unfortunately, Americans have become entrenched in the liberties that freedom gives them, and thus, many freedoms are taken for granted.  This considered, it is easy to see how the American Dream may seem a myth to some in today’s society.  But if all the basic ingredients afforded within that myth were taken away, it might be seen through contrast that the myth is perhaps an exaggeration of an underlying truth.

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Clogging the Feed

Dear Facebookers: I will try not to clog the feed. I will try to post things with some time in between, but FIRST: I am posting to MY PAGE. If you don’t want what i post in your feed, it’s simple to just click the arrow and remove my posts from YOUR FEED. That’s called Choice. It’s a great concept.

SECOND: please know, that i am not posting a bunch of flower pictures. Let’s just get our priorities clear, shall we? I am posting information that i feel voters should know in order to make an informed decision. And I firmly believe that this is the most important presidential election in hundreds of years. I am truly afraid of the negative impact on America, if Romney is allowed to sit in the seat of the highest office in the land. I am horrified by all that will be lost–women’s rights, healthcare, civil rights, freedom to believe what you wish or NOT BELIEVE AT ALL. Instead we will get tax cuts of some 5 trillion $ for the WEALTHY so that the middle class and the poor can SUFFER SOME MORE, reversal of rights to love who you wish, and receive the same legal rights as anyone else, and a foreign policy that solves all problems with war and coercion–and this, from a man who doesn’t understand the geography of the Middle East enough to know where the SEAS are located. A Romney presidency will mean heading toward theocracy, (as the Tea-Party and other Fundies will have far more power) and if you know the history of America, you know that it was formed to escape THAT VERY THING. It didn’t work the first time, and it won’t work now. And there’s not enough open, uncharted land left on Earth to start another America.

I have recently begun culling the Romney-voters from my friends list. Not because they disagree with me, but because they disagree with FACTS. (And the concept that anyone can DISAGREE with a FACT is in itself troubling, as it’s insipid and nonsensical). I can scarcely stand another moment of ignorance jammed in my face when information about the facts is EVERYWHERE at everyone’s fingertips. There is no longer any viable excuse for this to go on. Intelligent people everywhere have to stand up and say it’s not okay anymore to behave ignorantly, when knowledge and truth is so readily available to all. It’s not okay to force religion into government (hello! Separation of Church and State, anyone?). I am a moderate Independent in my politics, but things have shifted, so that I have to take a hard line this time. Wherever the facts and the truth and my ethical core lead me, I will go, regardless of party.

That just happens to be Obama.

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Streaming & Quilting: Differing Methodologies in Novelwriting

My partner, Kate,  and I often discuss methodology in our writing. While in general we are very much alike, personally, we do have two completely different methods for writing a book.

Kate has this uncanny, subconscious method that seems to flow from her Muse and out onto the page, with herself as conduit. It seems amazing to me that she can start at the beginning (the beginning!?) and write straight through until the book is done. A linear stream of subconsciousness. No major tweaking of plot points or planting of red herrings {1}, rarely any insertion of missing foreshadowing or details that have to change since something else happened later… When she was working on Building Character, I was amazed to see elements reappear and figure so prominently into the events, when they were hinted at in the beginning, without her even knowing why that particle was in the text she was writing. It’s a little eerie that she seems to have a complete prescience of the story before she’s consciously aware of it, or even writes it. I find that truly amazing.

She is quick to say, however, that she is mindful the whole way through of style and technique and diction and story arcs, etc. The point is, she writes a book from beginning to end, letting it all freeflow, and somehow it comes out brilliantly rendered on the other side. I don’t know how she does that.

And she says she doesn’t know how I do what I do.

I am a more technical writer in my method. My modus operandi is analogous to making a quilt.

I start with one patch of fabric (a character, a scene, a bit of dialogue) and I attach other patches to it, repeatedly, until it becomes one whole cloth.{2}

In my previous AKA Investigations book 2, Also Known as DNA, it began with dialogue. I must have written 100 pages of dialogue before writing much else on that one. I suspect it was a way to allow the characters to tell me the story, since I was already familiar with them and they were more likely to ‘communicate openly with me’–and apparently that method was useful, because it was the quickest I’d ever written a novel (4 months).

Anyway, as I’m piecing together all these parts, I’m looking for the common thread, the repeating theme, the Happy Accidents (elements that appear unplanned, but seem to magically fit into the story). I have this pervasive belief that all things are connected in some way, and it’s my task, in writing a novel, Also Known as DNAto find those connections and hook them up in a way that is credible, and hopefully clever and entertaining as well. That’s half the fun of writing for me: discovering how all those disparate elements can possibly be connected.

In Also Known as DNA, for instance, I noticed the theme of family–those related to you biologically–and parenting, and how everyone can react so differently to what they experience from their parents. So, DNA was the thread. In the 3rd AKA Investigations book, which I am working on now, I have yet to find that common theme. I’m still putting the patches together. I have all these scenes and some of them don’t seem to belong in the same book. But I’ve done this enough times to know that it’s exactly how to create the story for me. I want to find those connections between things that don’t seem to be connected at first blush.

It’s FUN. And writing should be fun at least part of the time.

===================================

{1} have you ever tried to plant a red herring? They’re so wiggly, and won’t stay in the dirt.

{2} I know this metaphor could go much deeper, but I’d need to learn more about quilting to render it well.  Random Thought Alert: I don’t even LIKE quilts. I mean, I like them, conceptually, but because of my SPS, they just seem too chaotic and tend to stress me out. Too many disparate elements crammed together–I like solid colors. I won’t even buy striped towels. But this echoes my need to link and make sense of the disparate elements in the book I’m writing and forge it into a cohesive whole. I NEED to make order from chaos.

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Springboarding

Most often, we write from what we know. We write from a place of experience and sensation, because that’s part of who we are, and so it must show up on the page in some way. But I recognize the danger in putting so much of myself into my characters…it could just become some glorified masturbation. Yet, a bit of literary self-cloning is inevitable and unavoidable. I did it today–put myself into some characters…and then I realized it’s a very effective means of getting the story written.

Partially, my initial process involves research, as I tend to be a more technical writer in the beginning stages until things take off and then the creative part floods in and fills it all out.  By research, I don’t mean tedious outlines or character sketches and full biographies of everyone in the story. I mean what I call Novel Logistics. I mean I write whatever strikes my fancy, and then I come across an unknown, and look it up, find out more about it. In that information will often be a seed for something else- For moving the story, creating an authentic setting, solving a plot problem or deepening the character.

For instance, today I was working on a scene with a character where I needed her to stall a conversation, and I looked down at my boots and thought about it, and then I thought maybe she would also look at her boots, think about them instead of the conversation, and then that led me to giving her my boots. So I had to Google them to find the name or style so I could describe them accurately, and I found a picture of another pair of boots, similar, but not quite the same. The boot style was called Fierce. I thought this character would be thinking about buying those boots partly because of the name–because she wanted to be fierce. And these were the first nice boots she had ever been able to buy for herself. And that tied nicely into the subject of the conversation she was trying to avoid. And thus, what were once my boots, became her boots, but then they weren’t the same boots at all. Just a springboard into something more.

In a different scene with another character, I used a certain idea about mediocrity, and it began to represent itself in the color grey. Then i found all these connections that fit into the story, developed both characters, and moved the plot a few steps forward. (Rough draft, but here’s that passage):

 Dr. Garrison Bonnet lived a mundane life. In toto, there was no way to make investigations more interesting when you were tailing a guy who liked to read and drink tea and feed ducks. The most interesting thing about him was the odd theme emerging. Grey. Dr. Bonnet had a pattern of grey in his life, and it was, as metaphors go, a fitting color. She wondered if he noticed the pattern of it in his life.

She had followed him from his office to the park where he perused a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, a book she tried to read because of the hype, but found the writing on the amateur side, even though the concept was intriguing. Ultimately she was too aggravated by the book’s obvious need for an editor, and dismissed it as a waste of time. She failed to understand the allure of it for so many women. Perhaps because it was aimed at straight women, and she was most notably not in that category.

Bonnet also sipped from his Starbucks cup of (no kidding) Earl Grey tea, and tossed stale bread crumbs to the (still not kidding) grey Gadwells that waddled up from the lake.

He was also wearing a grey jacket. Perhaps his damn underwear was grey too. So what she discovered about him, aside from his abject mediocrity, was that his stature seemed a fictional construct, perhaps perpetuated by the prestige of being a high-dollar psychiatrist who often worked for the police department, who lived in an upscale house on an upscale street in an upscale neighborhood, and drove a decidedly upscale vehicle—a Mercedes Benz C250—in an upscale shade of—ferfucksake—grey. It had to be intentional. Grey had to simply be his favorite color and maybe he levitated toward all things of that shade. Or maybe he had his own quirks and obsessions. Physician, heal thyself.

 I often do that. I use my own thoughts and settings and products and preferences and habits and then as the characters evolve, those things do also, and they get refined and become part of that character in a different way, and eventually it’s not myself in the character, but the character’s self. It’s very much like taking a lump of clay and plopping it on the pottery wheel. I am the clay I put there and then when the wheel spins and I start drawing my hands u p the sides, it becomes something completely new. Even though that clay came from me–WAS me. This method allows me to springboard from a familiar place into a new place of creation–of fiction. And yet on some level it is not fiction at all, just a version of something that was  true. And I believe the most effective fiction is a reflection of truth.

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Word Count & a Teeming Brain

One writer mentioned on her blog that she hates it when other writers have word count widgets on their blogs. It was as if they were showing off how much writing they got done. She didn’t do word counts herself because there were times when she took writing out and replaced it, and then the word count stayed the same even though she might have had a perfectly good day’s writing under her literary belt.

I have word count meters on my blog, but not for the reasons the aforementioned writer says. I have a word count meter because first, it lets my readers know I’m working on something, and what it is, and second, (and most importantly), it helps motivate ME. It’s not about showing off. That becomes obvious when you realize that I have the same issue the blogger/writer said. I often rewrite from notes in the document. Once that’s done, I delete the notes, and that often makes me break even on word count. So it’s not about crowing that I got so much work done, it’s about motivating myself in any way possible toward reaching a goal. And if you do enough writing, often enough, you eventually get that word count up anyway until the book is completed. So it doesn’t matter if the meter breaks even some days. On other days, it won’t.  I also like looking down at the toolbar in Word and seeing that number rising. Again, it’s about motivation. If I see that I’ve just put down 300 words, there’s a little niggling voice that says try for 300 more…and I usually do.

Hey, whatever it takes.

I have been struggling to get back in my writing groove for a couple of years now, and that’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with before. Until now, I’ve never known what it was like to struggle with writing. But after seeing an article that came up on one of my Google Alerts, and giving it some deeper thought, it finally sunk in on a conscious level that this dilemma has a great deal to do with who I am, physiologically

As a person with SPS (Sensory Processing Sensitivity) or more commonly referred to as HSP – (Highly Sensitive Person) –a moniker I don’t care for as the connotation is misleading–I was reminded of how crucial it is for me to be in control of my environment. I need to have my routines and rituals to comfort me, free my mind from those things that would create a vortex for the creativity to irretrievably fall into (vorTEXT…there’s a joke in there somewhere…but I’m too distracted to think about it). For me, this vortex gets created by chaos, big changes, too many people, too much to do, and missing creature comforts, mostly. This is a sure way for me to become so distracted and uneasy, that I find it almost impossible to tap into either the work ethic or the creativity. And the past few years have been a circus of chaos and change. My chi has been fucked with to the nth degree for far too long.

So I acknowledge the sound reasons why my productivity has waned, while continuing to simultaneously seek solutions and be gentle with myself. It’s a precarious balance.

As I get older, I am more fearful rather than less so. I feel the creep of Age and all that comes stuffed in its pockets. I feel my mortality. Feel how tenuous life is, how precious time is and how inextricably we are caught in the linear-ness of it. I actually get PISSED OFF when I look at the clock and see that more time has passed. How dare it? It keeps ticking away and the only thing that can stop it, is the thing I wish to avoid the most. Irony, through and through.

The article I mentioned refers to a Keats poem which I somehow missed in all those literature classes…but it did speak as if from my own head and heart….

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,
Before high grav’d books, in charact’ry,
Hold like rich garners the full-ripen’d grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
And when I feel, fair creature of an hour,
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power
Of unreflecting love!—then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to Nothingness do sink.

(c)Isaac Salazar

I have always had a profound fear that I will never live long enough to write all the books I wish to write. I also fear losing my great Love–the One it took me so long to find. Perhaps the only thing I fear as much is just suffering some horrible illness, but even that is connected to the fear of a premature demise. It always seems doubly tragic whenever the world loses great minds, creative people who have given us so much, and as a creative person, I feel a great responsibility to put my work out there. It’s my duty, my one great reason for existence.

Keats’ paradox in the metaphor of the ripened grain–that he is both the harvest and the harvester, is true as well for me. Or for any creative person. I am essentially a book, as well as the creator of the book. I create myself each time I go through this process. The creator and the created.

As a person with SPS, it’s easy to feel apart from the world, and having someone to love is equal parts comforting and fearful. Having that one great love also brings with it the fear of losing that one great love. The proverbial double-edged sword. The sword I hope not to fall upon in my passion to avoid that which frightens me (can you say self-fullfiling prophesy?).

 

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Lunacy Factor: Make My Day

Disclaimer to Grammar/Editing Police: this is a rough draft. I am foregoing the edit because I’d rather spend that time on the book itself right now.

 (excerpt from AKA Investigation Book 3, in progress)

Izzy pulled out the coffee carafe, and paused to look at Ginger. “What are you doing?”

Ginger had been standing, immobile, by the door. “I’m trying to remember where I put my keys.” She had once again been unable to sleep until almost three. It was affecting her brain.

“They’re not in the basket?”

“No.”

Izzy poured coffee in the waiting cup Ginger had provided. “Not in your pocket?”

“No, I’ve already looked in all the obvious places.” She came back into the room and scanned it, as if hoping the keys would jump up in the air so she could catch them.

“Don’t worry. Maybe you’re just getting senile.”

Ginger turned slowly, one eyebrow cocked, and probably loaded. “That might be humorous coming from someone my own age, but from you, it’s just a sharp stick.”

“Don’t hate me for being younger,” Izzy said, sipping coffee.

Ginger moved into the living room area, and began accosting the sofa cushions. “Most people are visual. And those images attach to something. With me, it just goes in, floats around, then when a stiff wind comes along, whooooosh–it’s gone.”

“Well, maybe you should plug the leaks. Wear earplugs…I mean, that’s a 99 cent fixer-upper.” Izzy chuckled. “Or you could just put two marbles in your ears.”

“Oh I can’t do that, they’ll fall in and then that noise of them rolling around would keep me up at night.”

“You’re up at night anyway. You’re like a vampire.’

“A non-visual, marble-headed vampire.”

Izzy righted the askew cushion and plopped onto the sofa. “I’m sure some bleeding heart liberal group will take you on, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah!” The keys had fallen off the by the door hook and landed in one of Izzy’s shoes. “I’m late. I’ll call you later.” She scooted over and kissed the top of Izzy’s head.

As Ginger pulled out of the drive, she wondered if her sleepless night and her delay was really self-sabotage. Like a petulant school girl, she didn’t want to go to work today. Today was Officer Awareness Day. She was aware of being an officer, and didn’t need to be reminded, thank you very much. But the Denver PD had initiated the program that demanded detectives spend one day of the month patrolling, like they did when they were beat cops. No matter what, this day was always bizarre. For some reason, it was like the universe knew she was out of her comfort zone, and it wanted to make the most of the torture session.

Today, Ginger was to patrol a neighborhood that was largely a retirement village. She could only imagine the heyday the universe was going to have with that one. Senile old people. There but for the grace of whomever, go I, she thought.

The prophesy was fulfilled in a big way.

Her first call was to a high rise apartment building where the AARP crowd thrived. Two 70 year old women were involved in a domestic dispute, according to a giggling dispatcher.

It seemed that one woman was trying to ram the other woman with her Hoveround. The recipient of this scooter-attack had called Denver PD. Ginger said into her shoulder-mic, derisively, “Really.”

“Yes. REALLY. I promise,” the dispatcher said.

It was the same address she had been called to last month, only that time, Miss Rita-of-the-Hoveround had blown herself up when she smoked too close to her oxygen tank. There had been a small fire on the carpet that looked like the long fuse of a detonation device, and Miss Rita was found on the floor with burns on her right arm. While Ginger was interviewing her around the ministrations of the paramedic, she had the cheek to ask for a cigarette. Apparently, she needed one because blowing herself up had caused her some stress.

This time, however, Ginger had to steal the key to the scooter until Miss Rita calmed down.

No sooner had Ginger paid for her first cup of coffee at the local Starbucks, than she got another call about the accident at a private garage only a few blocks away. The old woman had hit the garage door opener twice accidentally, so it closed and she didn’t realize, and backed right through it. “My foot slipped off the brake,” the woman said defensively.

“So you hit the gas?”

Ginger left the scene with a caveat emptor: senior citizens should never be allowed to operate motorized vehicles.

Then at the next call, Ginger was summoned to another high rise apartment building a few miles away. An old man had dropped his cell phone down the elevator shaft. This particular elevator was notorious for stopping between floors, and that’s how it was when she found it. She’d have to jump down under it to get the phone. Good thing it was on the first floor, so that the only way it could go when someone pushed the button, was up. She considered just calling the fire department, but the old geezer was beside himself, since his phone was his lifeline–by the looks of him, a lifeline he sorely needed. The man said, “I’ll hold the door for you.”

Ginger said, “No, I’ll block it open because you’ll get distracted and wander off and I’ll be trapped under the elevator and get squished.”

She placed the trash can between the doors, and made quick work of hopping down and grabbing the phone, and climbing back out. When she handed him the cell, he said, “What are you doing with my phone?”

Rolling her eyes, she just bid him a good day and went out to the car to write it up.

It was like it was a full moon. But it was daylight. So is the day preceding the night of a full moon still part of the lunacy factor? Apparently so.

She cruised by the other cop on that beat, waved to him cordially. It was that rookie named Josh, who rode with her on one of these Awareness patrols, while he was still in training. He used to be an Army scout. She soon learned why he was an Army scout. His platoon-mates wanted him dead.

She had figured that one out a few months ago, when he drew down one night on a plastic coyote that the residents had placed outside to scare the geese away. Somehow, he saw the thing and was startled, so dropped to the ground with his gun out. The coyote wasn’t moving, so he crawled over and poked it with his gun. He told Ginger later he thought it was a chupacabra.

She had asked him another night where his weapon was, and he found it slid around to his back, because he had not worn the keeper tabs on his belt, and had pulled his coat over his weapon, too, leaving the access zipper closed. That boy was one shift shy of having his own placard on the Line of Duty death wall.

Ginger cruised the serene streets of Windsor Meadows, passing, as usual “Pregnant Don” on his way to the community center. The man had a pot belly that looked oddly like he was with-child. She honked and waved at him as she went by.

Later in the evening, with the winter chill swelling the air, she got a call that there were people moving around in an old woman’s attic. When Ginger investigated, she discovered there were no people in the attic, and indeed, no attic. She told the woman she had scared them away and they wouldn’t be bothering her anymore, and hoped she remembered to take her medication. This was the same woman that another officer had said kept her important papers hidden in the oven once, got hungry and preheated it, and caused a fire that burned up all her important papers. Ginger, herself, had dealt with her. Once, she reported that “hoodlums” were rattling the doors as they went down the hall of the floor she lived on. Ginger was familiar with this complaint. The lady called dispatch frequently with the same report. So Ginger had gone down the hall and rattled the doors herself. The woman never came out to check on the noise.

A fellow veteran officer, Chad Bentley, had joined her that time, and saw her rattling knobs. He laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Terrorizing a crazy lady.”

When she went in to talk to the lady, giving her the obligatory I ran-the-hoodlums-off-and-they-won’t-be-bothering-you-anymore spiel, she noticed the refrigerator in the middle of the kitchen. “Why is your ‘fridge in the middle of kitchen?” she asked her.

“How else are you supposed to clean behind it?”

Heavy sigh. But Ginger could tell, the fridge was kept right there in the middle of the floor and the woman just walked around it. Ginger was afraid to ask how she actually got it there.

Then came a man named Barry who said there was voodoo in his apartment.

“Where?” Ginger asked.

He showed her. It was in his chair, on his carpet.

It was dirt. The path through his apartment was thick with dirt. Voodoo dirt. He said the woman upstairs, a Miss Beecher, was putting voodoo on him, among other things. She assured him she would go up there and talk to her. When she knocked, the woman saw her and sighed. “What now?”

Ginger had trouble concentrating because Miss Beecher had one of those egg vibrators on the table next to her chair. She almost forgot why she was there. Must have been her lack of sleep. “Um…Mr. Barry says you’re putting voodoo on him, and he wants you to please stop.” Ginger was smiling as Miss Beecher commenced with the eye-rolling. “He said you were after him and tried to kiss him, and so if you would just stop trying to kiss him, that would really help me out.”

The old woman giggled. “He tried to kiss ME one day and I said you do it again I’ll punch you in the mouth. Maybe that’s what is really bothering him.”

“Well, now, it’s voodoo.”

Ginger went back down to Mr. Barry’s apartment and gave him the update. “I yelled at Miss Beecher and she’s agreed to stop the voodoo.” Ginger knew she wasn’t lying. She really had asked her to stop.

Mr. Barry was not convinced. “You said that last time! They always say that, but it keeps happening!” He then informed Ginger that she needed to be arrested for murder because she wasn’t doing anything about it. “Nobody’s dead! How can I be arrested for murder when no one’s dead?”

There was indeed a reason why they called it lunacy. It was from the word, lunar, meaning moon. As that full shining orb hung in the night sky, her evening was further entertained by an old guy who drove his car up on the sidewalk and hit a fire hydrant. She did have to call the fire department for that one. Water was spewing everywhere. While briefing the supervisor, she said, “Yah, if you can’t see, it’s best to drive really fast and buy a really big car.”

During the down times, Ginger entertained herself by recalling the other crazy calls she got during Awareness night. She and Officer Bentley had once tracked down a suspected drug dealer who was fenced in, and running around a tree, in an effort to find a way out. They both just stood there watching him. “If you run around a tree enough times,” Ginger had intoned, “you become invisible.”

“Oh, to be 17 again,” Bentley added.

“I know, right?

“You don’t grow brains until about 30.”

“And sometimes not even then.”

When Ginger cuffed him, and started to pat him down, she said, “Got anything that’s gonna poke me, stick me or piss me off?”

He did, of course, have all three.

The last call was about a complaint that a Mrs. Gentry reported, saying that not only were the neighbors stealing her electricity, but now they were trying to steal her brains. In the report, Ginger added, It is this officer’s opinion that this has already occurred.

Before clocking out back at the station, Ginger would also have the unenviable task of looking over the reports of the other officers on that shift. She dreaded reading the Box-O-Rocks collection. That was the moniker given to Rookie Josh, because he was as dumb as a box of rocks. The boy had no acquaintance with commas and periods, and it sometimes completely changed the meaning of his reports. He couldn’t spell either. And it always took him two hours to write his reports out. Probably why he waited until the end of shift to do it. Once, Ginger had told him, “Learn to use commas and periods. Don’t worry about the semicolons and stuff, but jeez.” She made the mistake of saying, “Every time you take a breath, use a comma.” She then read through his next report and said, “Do you have COPD?”

With the morning sunrise blazing above the horizon, Ginger made her way back to the precinct.

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Resurrection Sticks -Book Trailer

my novella, Resurrection Sticks

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Baggage – Book Trailer

My mainstream book, Baggage.

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Bloody Hands

Every novelist should sit down at the keyboard with blood on their hands.

To know what it feels like to have been wronged and to have wronged. To be guilty and innocent.

A novelist must have truly lived her life–sucked the marrow, tended the wounds, lashed out in fear and anger, in order to write a story that speaks authentically at deeper levels; that explores human nature and the human condition in all its beauty and ugliness. A novelist must have experienced life–that visceral knowledge that comes only from having felt the range of emotions, discovered the myriad permutations of challenge and question and suffering and joy. There are indeed degrees of depth in a story and in the characters that populate its pages. We can write for entertainment, and leave it at that, or we can dig deeper. I enjoy the writing most when it marries the elements of humor and drama. When I can show characters facing challenges, while also interacting in sometimes absurd or humorous ways. I love witty repartee as much as heartfelt confessions or moments of miscalculation. You can only impart this protean story if you have been in the trenches and know what it really feels like to get your hands dirty, your brain animated, your heart broken.

How would it even be possible, I wonder, for a novelist to be absent these characteristics? Perhaps she would have to be born in a remote mountain cabin and her mother die when she was young, and then continue to live there, avoiding the natural experience that just comes from living, and interacting with the world and the other people in it…but then, this isolated being would have experienced loneliness and loss, at least. So it is, as always, a question of degrees. Creative people, et al, by their nature feel things to a more intense degree than others. Not by virtue of what they do, but by who they are, which led them to express those things in what they do. You can learn vicariously through the stories of others, through television and literature, but this is no substitute for the experiences themselves.

While I can lament the sometimes painful history of my life, I know that I would not be nearly so well-rounded, would not have much wisdom to share, and would not be able to solve as many problems so effectively, nor communicate myself with any clarity, had I not journeyed through those challenges that so pained me, yet created a stronger individual.

This all begins, of course, with childhood, and the parenting we did (or did not) receive. I was not physically abused, but I was emotionally abused and some psychologists say (one actually said to me, specifically) that often emotional abuse is more difficult. If my parents had hit me (other than the slaps I received from my mother) then I would at least know they knew I existed. But I had an overweening sense that I was invisible. My parents ignored me for the most part. They were apathetic. Their sin was a sin of omission. I was always trying to exist. Trying to be noticed and acknowledged in some positive way, and given some indication that I mattered.

But this, I recognize as the reason for my attachment to my identity markers…the activities, thoughts and expressions that make me who I am. I am defined by those things I do, those things I create…I feel invisible without those identity markers. And this brings me back full circle to the writing. I am grateful that I have something to say when I sit down to write. I am chagrined that those words stem so often from loss and disappointment, and so rarely, from a place of hope and happiness. I am a writer. It’s as much a part of me as my skin. I can say that, even amid this writer’s block I have struggled with for the last few years. I know the delicate balance of identity was overturned, and it will take righting it again completely before I can return to my usual voluminous production. This is where discipline comes in. And I have dedicated myself, now, to sitting here and writing something every day. Anything. Even if it isn’t what I would prefer, nor quite yet what it was before.

But I know that because I do have blood on my hands, I am able to, with some measure of authority, say that I know what I write is real. Because it was hard won, and there were casualties.

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Achilles Forjan review: “particularly engrossing”

 of 1 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars Another Great Book From Baeli! August 29, 2012
Format:Paperback|Amazon Verified Purchase

I love this author! Ms. Baeli has quickly become one of my “must read” authors.

This novel is particularly engrossing with its somewhat detached and esoteric mood. I think the way the author describes the inner life of the main character, Amy, really lent itself to creating an almost haunted tone.

Bless her heart; Amy is a tender soul who lacks the ability to shrug off the emotional effects that present themselves in her profession as a paramedic. Over a very short amount of time she becomes witness to senseless acts of violence and neglect and she realizes her lack of power over the outcomes of these situations. Her ensuing depression and despondency seem very authentic and what I really admire is that the author in no way portrays this character as a whiny victim.

The story kicks into high gear when Amy’s sleep disorder begins to color the events of the narrative. Are we seeing dreams, post-cognitive visions or memories? I was continually kept guessing right up to the end. The end and the resolution of the plot were a bit sudden for me, but the epilogue more than made up for it.

This book was a wonderful read.

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Achilles Forjan is available in digital and

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Smashwords,and author’s website

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As You Were: “well written and highly enjoyable romance, mystery and intrigue, with a light touch of humor”

Review

As You Were by Kelli Jae Baeli

Singer/songwriter Tru Morgan is totally in love with her live in girl friend Brittany (Brit) Jabot. Together they share a wonderful home on Red Mountain, Colorado. Their lives are idyllic, filled with their dreams, romantic nights and  riding their beloved horses in a fairy tale, snowy setting. Life just couldn’t get much better for them……. Until one day, a malicious chain of events ends up being the indirect cause cause of a tragic accident.

Tru finds herself fighting to find the life she once had with Brit. This in itself is an uphill struggle, but add to it disruptive outside influences and it is going to be almost an impossibility. Some people just do not want to see Tru and Brit back together.

The question that has to be asked is…. Will Tru and Brit ever find their way back to the love so callously torn from them?

A well written and highly enjoyable romance, mystery and intrigue, with a light touch of humor. Although this story is basically a romance, there is so much more packed into it. So many twists and turns and ups and downs, it’s a real rollercoaster ride of highs and lows. I simply couldn’t put this book down and couldn’t turn the pages fast enough. I had to force myself to slow down. I wouldn’t advise starting this late at night, unless you don’t need to sleep.

***

The two main characters, Tru and Brit are poles apart throughout most of the book. I don’t want to put in any spoilers, but the emotional ride they are on, is hard going for them. The only thing I will say is, I wasn’t disappointed with the outcome of the story.

All the characters in the book were well formed and they each played their parts in progressing the story forward. The scenic descriptions made it easy to visualize being amongst the characters while the story evolves.

One thing I particularly liked about this book is the way we saw how Tru and Brit got together in the first instance in flashbacks. I do like to know the background of the characters.

This is the first book I’ve read by this author, now that I’ve found her, I’ll definitely be buying more.

 

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