On Ebooks and Smatterings

The digital version of A DEEPER DARKNESS is on sale today! 

Please consider ordering through your local independent, who can get you both a good deal and a version for just about every ereader out there.

And if you prefer books of the more tactile variety, there are signed copies of A DEEPER DARKNESS at both Reading Rock Books and Parnassus Books. 

Audio, as always, read by Joyce Bean, available as well.

We've had a bit of a perfect storm of publicity in the past couple of days, so instead of inundating you with link after link, I thought I'd pull them all together in one place for you to peruse at your leisure, should you be so inclined.

If you're in Nashville, I'm appearing on WSMV More at Midday today at 11am 

From LitStack - a featured author interview 

From Bookreporter - a hella good review and contest

From the Harlequin Blog - How I took Samantha Owens from supporting character to protagonist 

Reading a poem for the 5-2

AuthorLink Interview with Paige Crutcher

From ITW, a Between the Lines interview with Brett King

On what I'm currently reading

The Page 69 Test

Q&A on The Reading Frenzy with Debbie Haupt

And my favorite -  My Book, The Movie is now showing

Phew! Let the games begin. 

On Om Shanti Shanti Shanti

Do you yoga? I began back in the fall, a twice weekly practice that has ebbed and flowed over the past several months. When I started I could barely do a downward dog, pigeon wasn't at all challenging but I couldn't stand in mountain pose with my eyes closed, and I wondered if I would ever be able to do tree, as balancing on one leg was honestly a joke.

Six months later, my guru finished our session Saturday morning with a delighted smile. "You just did an intermediate to advanced level class." she said. "You don't even realize how far you've come."

I pondered that statement as I drove home. Without a doubt, I am physically stronger. I've added a solid fifteen to twenty yards to my golf drive, for example, so I know there are more muscles in the somewhere.  I dream about poses I haven't even tried yet, much yet mastered. Last week I took an online class that was exceptionally challenging and only pondered quitting twice, because the poses were well beyond my current abilities (balancing poses still give me fits. I blame the top-heaviness.) Each time, I persevered, adapting poses until we returned to a more manageable situation. When I finished savasana, I was pleased with my effort.

Pleased, but not satisfied. Because yoga is more than mastering poses for me. It is about the transcendence that I feel, the peace, the sheer connectedness with my being. It's almost a state of hypnosis. It is somthing I strive for in my meditation as well, which in and of itself is wrong, striving guarantees you won't find what you seek. You must be. Yoga is the same way. That transcendence doesn't happen every time, but it is glorious when it does.

My guru reminds me that we approach our practice as we approach our life. And as I grit my teeth and try to force my body into positions that it most likely was not meant to go into, I think about that adage. I unclench my teeth, soften my gaze, smile. "It's just yoga, baby," my guru coos at me. And we giggle when I lose my balance, and try, and try, and try again.

I can say unreservedly that yoga has changed my life. My perspective. Like writing, days when I don't do yoga aren't good days. Days when I write and yoga are stellar. And when I find myself leaning over my laptop, gritting my teeth, I soften my gaze, and smile, and remind myself that determination is a good thing, but relaxing and letting it flow is always more preferable.

Today, as I march into another year, I look back on the previous birthday and ask myself - are you happier now than you were then? Are you doing what you love? Are you finding ways to make those you love happy? The answers are invariably yes. But this year, I add a new question.

Are you at peace?

And the answer is found in my mantra. Om shanti, shanti, shanti.

Everything peace, peace, peace.

On Solitude

This essay appeared April 21, 2012 on Meanderings and Musings

We writers have voices in our heads. It’s just a fact of life. The voices speak to us, we write their words on the page, and people read the stories and are captivated, drawn into a land of make believe.

All right. Let’s be honest and call this what it really is. Controlled psychosis.

You laugh, but think about it. Where else in the world are you allowed to let the little voices in your head control your thoughts, your words, and your deeds? Hmmm?

Most writers are loners, happily spinning yarns with their imaginary friends day in and day out. Some of us are extroverts, getting a rush from interaction, gratified by teaching, or simply refilling the well on a night out with friends.

I’m one of those bizarre introverts who can unveil my personality at will, as necessary, for groups. The public me is a version of myself, the me I want to be. It’s like actors on the stage, playing a role. Or, for those of us who are terribly shy, it’s a bit like going to war.

You embellish yourself a bit. So you can make it through the night. You put on pretty clothes – armor. You do your makeup and your hair – helmet. You take a pill or have a glass – shield. And then, head to toe in metal and mail, you swan about, hoping you aren’t putting your foot into it too badly.

But that’s life, isn’t it? We all feel that momentary cringe when we think we’ve said something off, or insulting, or embarrassing. 99% of the time, no one takes your words the way you think they came out. As a matter of fact, everyone is so busy cringing that no one really hears what’s being said.

I hope.

Many of you know that Randy and I recently lost our beloved kitten, Jade, aka Thrillercat. Things have been very, very quiet around here. I’ve always seen myself as a quiet writer – I like the silence of being alone with my thoughts and my laptop – but it wasn’t until Jade passed away that I realized just how much I talked to her during the day. I ran bits of dialogue past her, or ideas, or questions. And she sat there, quiet as a mouse, and accepted all my thoughts. It is so bizarre not to have that sounding board anymore. And it’s been lonely.

I’m starting the tour for my newest novel, A DEEPER DARKNESS, April 17. I will be strapping on my armor and sallying forth into the world to talk about the book, and hopefully not put my foot in my mouth too many times. But this novel is about loss, and since I’ve been experiencing so much of my own lately, I’m girding myself to speak in public about that very issue.

It’s the commonalities that make each of us connect with a book. Even quiet, solitude-loving writers need to come out of their shells every once in a while and connect with people. I hope to see you on the road. And maybe we can make each other feel a little less alone. 

If you're in Nashville, join me tomorrow at Parnassus Books in Green Hills at 1pm for a reading and signing of A DEEPER DARKNESS! 

On All Things Short (Stories, That Is)

Most of you know I play around with short stories. Last year I put them all in a collection called SWEET LITTLE LIES, and now I've broken out some of the individual shorts, the ones that have been anthologized (Prodigal Me, Gray Lady, Lady Gray, Killing Carol Ann, Chimera) and a couple of my early favorites (X, Where's You Get That Red Dress)

The stories are a cool .99 and are now live on both Kindle and Nook. I hope you enjoy them! 

Prodigal Me

First Appeared in KILLER YEAR: Stories to Die For (January 2008)
Edited by Lee Child (St. Martin's Minotaur)

When a relationship goes south, a young woman must come to grips with her new reality.

X

First Appeared in Demolition Magazine and Nashville Lifestyles (February 2009 Issue)

What lurks in the woods behind your house?

Chimera

First Appeared in SURREAL SOUTH '09 (October 2009)
Edited by Pinckney Benedict and Laura Benedict (Press 53)

Have you ever wondered what might happen if you sold your soul to the devil?

Killing Carol Ann

First Appeared in FIRST THRILLS (June 2010)
Edited by Lee Child  (Tor)

We've all had that friend who liked to do bad things. What happens when a young girl is pushed too far?

 Gray Lady, Lady Gray

First Appeared in SURREAL SOUTH '11 (October 2011)

Edited by Laura Benedict and Pinckney Benedict (Press 53)

It lives in the attics of a remote Scottish Castle. It needs the blood of a bride. And there's a wedding scheduled for today... 

Where'd You Get That Red Dress

The title says it all - where did she get that red dress?

 Inspired by the song Red Dress by James McMurtry

On the Vagaries of Research

There's a controversy a-brewing out there in literary land. A couple of them, actually - a(nother) plagiarism scandal, and a research scandal. For the record, there is no excuse, none whatsoever, to ever, ever plagiarise. So that's all I have to say about that. 

No, I want to talk about the research flap. The very fine author Jodi Picout has apparently infuriated the wolf world with her new novel Lone Wolf.  I can't see that pissing off a bunch of lycanthropes is such a great idea, but...

So Evil Wylie posted the following Tweet:

@Evilwylie NPR: "Wolf scientists howling mad at @jodipicoult over new book" is.gd/3a7Cvt   (where was their outrage with Twilight?)

Which of course made me giggle, then follow at the link. In case it doesn't work, here you go: Why Are Wolf Scientist Howling at Jodi Picoult?

There's something I've learned over the course of the eleven novels I've written. Research does matter. And you are never, ever going to make everyone happy. Having been on the receiving end of nasty grams when I mess something up, I know that firsthand.

BUT.....

We are writing fiction. Fiction. There's an age old debate concerning literary license. I fall somewhere in between, along the lines of in order not to strain credulity, hold to the iceberg theory - only show the teensiest bit of your research on the page, but do your research. There is no better way to lose a reader than to get something easily figured out wrong. Cocking the hammer on a Glock, for example, is one of the my most favorite screw-ups.

There's a fine line between fiction, stretching the truth to fit your story, and making shit up. Some readers are forgiving of mistakes, and some lose their minds. I try very hard to get stuff right, but I know I make mistakes, and sometimes, purposely distort reality to fit my story. I am a fiction writer, and that is my right.

I haven't read Jodi's book, nor do I know much abut wolves. But I do know that you can't make everyone happy. Any time you write something that has a bit of esoteric information, you'll manage to upset someone. So let that be a lesson - when in doubt, look it up. But don't freak out if you need to fudge things to make it work.

Since fiction, by its very nature, isn't reality, that's kind of the whole point, isn't it?