Congratulations to Sharon Ashwood for her 2011 RWA RITA: UNCHAINED, the third book in her Dark Forgotten series, won for Best Paranormal Romance. Yay, Sharon!
Currently working on: Countdown to DARKNESS UNDONE! Mood: 5… 4… 3…
Last week, I had a couple get-togethers, both of which ended up in apocalyptic predictions where I had to bite my tongue lest I end the friendships long before the end of the world. Look, I appreciate a good apocalypse as much as the next paranormal romance reader, but I demand some common sense with my doomsdays.
Lately (and I blame you, Mayans) I’ve been running into more… I think I’ll call it porncalypse. Or maybe apocaporn. No, wait… Aporncalypse. Yes, that will do.
Not-Webster’s Made-Up Dictionary:
a•porn•ca•lypse /əˈpôrnkəˌlips/ n. Gleeful wanking to end-of-the-world scenarios characterized by manufactured breathlessness and a complete lack of attention to anything resembling reality. Not to mention a really, uh, spectacular end.
There are so many ways we could actually be fated for extinction, it seems unnecessary to court conspiracy theories. (Although I love any theory where I say “Where’s your proof?” and the other person says “There’s no proof because of the CONSPIRACY!”) So I’m going to offer these reasonable replacements for my tin-hat friends.
1. Geomagnetic reversal is for wimps. Get those tectonic plates moving with a supervolcanos!
After one friend managed to conflate the natural and proven (and geologically slooooow) drift of the Earth’s magnetic field with an overnight relocation of the north and south poles — caused by a mysterious approaching planet, resulting in the planet being torn in two — and after I stopped beating my head against the table where my cream puff resided — I suggested that she lose sleep over supervolcanoes instead. Hulu is showing the Nature channel’s Naked Science program Supervolcano now, for free. Supervolcano shows the same CG’d multi-stage explosion over and over and over again. Lingering on graphics of megadestruction is the heart (or maybe another centrally located organ) of aporncalypse.
2. UFO droppings on Oregon beaches.
I was sort of excited about this one because it was relatively close to home. (In the same way that the above-mentioned supervolcano will be close to home when Yellowstone explodes into my Portland backyard.) “Mysterious” metal boxes — seamless and immovable — were showing up on Oregon beaches this winter. Which, like every Christmas present ever, totally got my imagination churning. Except… They have apparently already disappeared. Damn you, mysterious boxes! We needed more time to work up a foamy froth of conspiracy. Fine then, we will just have to settle for new discoveries about the (maybe) faster-than-light neutrinos and the Boson Higgs “God particle.”
3. Zombies!… Okay, this one the doomsayers can keep.
Last year, scientists found multiple species of a Brazilian fungus that invades ant brains and turns the insects into walking zombies. Presumably the shambling kind — not the super speedy kind, because, really, how fast can an ant go? — but still.
Yeah, there’s no way to not freak out about this. I check back on the story every so often to see how it’s progressing. I’m thinking this will be a lot like the killer bees, slowly drifting northward with rising global temperatures. (And yes, I realize that the killer bees don’t really seem to be so killer as they were expected to be/bee, BUT THAT’S BEECAUSE THE TRUTH IS BEEING COVERED UP!)
What I noticed recently is how closely zombie ants resemble another conspiracy theory favorite:
Yes… Who would’ve thought the jackalope was the first harbinger of aporncalypse.
Do you have a favorite conspiracy theory or doomsday scenario? Leave a comment any time this week and you’ll be entered for a chance to win a signed copy of Jessica Andersen’s DEMON KEEPERS, a novel of the Final Prophecy.
In other news, congrats to JoAnna B who won last week’s copy of HOTTER ON THE EDGE.
Thanks to everybody for commenting!
I don’t get very excited about Valentine’s Day.
I hope I don’t get my romance writing card revoked for saying that, but it’s true. For me, it’s hard to get excited about Valentine’s Day because:
1. Only the cheap chocolate is on sale.
2. The roses never have any scent.
3. Only the cheap chocolate is on sale.
I think I’m spoiled. Being a reader and writer of romance novels has ruined me for cheap sentiment, not to mention cheap chocolate. Those chalky candy hearts with half of a misspelled romantic saying stamped crookedly in pink just don’t rouse me.
I want impassioned shouts flung across a stormy sky in heart’s-blood crimson. Maybe with a lightning bolt. Out-of-breath whispers of longing are good too. But no halfway measures soaked in high fructose corn syrup.
Oh, I realize “real life” probably can’t sustain 24/7/365 of raging romance. Day jobs, laundry, and blog posts would no doubt suffer as we swooned and seduced our beloveds. But if we’re going to dedicate one day to love and romance and name it after various martyred Christian saints (even though the whole connection between the word “Valentine” and romantic love was apparently invented out of thin air and a goose quill by some hack author named Chaucer in the 14th century) seems to me that day should have MEANING.
Which is why I think, instead of trading those thin, little Valentine’s card like we did in grade school, we should swap our favorite romance novels. Way more pages in them, and way bigger love.
I already traded my Valentines love stories with a writer friend. I swapped her a Nalini Singh in exchange for a Kresley Cole. (We were both aghast that the other hadn’t read our respective favorites.) So, if you were going to share your love of romance with your Valentine, which story would it be?
Currently working on: Still revising Mood: MMA punchy
I swear this isn’t a political rant (I know better than to engage in political ranting online) but I was arguing with my XY (because apparently I DON’T know better than to not argue with him) about Newt Gingrich’s comment on building a moon base and how everybody laughed at him.
Regardless of how you feel about Newt (I actually like orange-bellied newts, which we have in many of our mountain lakes here in Oregon; I won’t say how I feel about the Republican presidential candidate Newt because see above comment on not engaging in political rants, and YES I know he mentioned moon bases because he was stumping in Florida, home of NASA-employed voters) I’m bummed that so many people across the political spectrum have mocked the very idea of a moon base.
Sure, maybe a moon base isn’t practical from a financial standpoint or even particularly desirable on a scientific basis, but I wish the mention of a moon base made people sigh wistfully rather than scoff. I love Star Trek and Star Wars. I love the Mars rovers. I love the International Space Station. I could do without genocidal space aliens, but I kinda even loved the Predator alien in the 2004 movie AVP: Alien vs. Predator when he gives the human heroine a respectful nod at the end. (Did anybody else see the potential for a great interspecies romance there?)
I read a story once about how God made humans so they could look up at the stars, and it stuck with me. Maybe humans are just hopelessly restless creatures, but I love the idea that there will always be more universe — assuming the universe is infinite — to explore.
Beauty. Danger. Bold heroes. Flights of fancy. Coming together in pursuit of a greater good. Space exploration IS a romance novel.
Speaking of space in romance novels…
I have a science fiction romance novella out in a new e-book anthology, HOTTER ON THE EDGE!
* * *
On the edge of space… On the edge of danger… On the edge of desire…
“Enslaved by Starlight”
by Jessa Slade
Transformed by empathic crystals into the perfect paramour, Benedetta Galil is the last treasure of her fading world. When raiders attack—seeking to corrupt the crystals and conquer all of charted space—she gives herself as a prize to the one man in the universe who values freedom over power. Mercenary sheership Captain Corso Deynah left oppression behind him on a burning planet and has no use for a sex slave, even one as seductive as Benedetta. But while he stubbornly resists her body, her fierce spirit tempts him, and he will risk everything—his ship, his seclusion, the very stars—to win not just her passion but her love.
Since I grew up reading science fiction and fantasy, I’m psyched to have added a science fiction romance to my line-up of paranormal romances. The hero is all my favorite spaceship captains melded into one, so you might catch glimpses of Solo, Kirk and Reynolds here and there. Because I think a sexy spaceship captain might just be the thing I love best about space!
Share your favorite spaceship captain in comments and you’ll be entered for a chance to win an e-book of HOTTER ON THE EDGE.
Currently working on: Expanding a story Mood: Widening
Last weekend, I went to the Oregon Coast with some writer friends for a beach retreat. (I accidentally typed “treat” and it WAS a treat.) Writing retreats are enormous fun, of course, but I also want the time to be productive. So here are some of my suggestions for a productive writing retreat:
Go to the beach at a yucky time of year.
At the Oregon Coast, you can be guaranteed gusting rain November through July (and prohibitive prices August through September). So usually the horizontal “moisturizing and exfoliating” is enough to keep us inside at our computers.
Here’s a picture of me, measuring how many words I have yet to add. See, this is why you go to the beach in bad weather. Sunshine DEMANDS a walk on the beach.
Bring the right friends.
It’s best to surround yourself with writers who share similar productivity goals. Friends who constantly tempt you to walk on the beach as the sun sets are counterproductive.
Sadly, it turns out I am that friend. So don’t bring me. Except you have to bring me because I always bring the mint brownies.
Find an inspiring spot.
Not only is the right physical spot important — like this lovely little beach house surrounded by chirping frogs — but the right spot in your mindset and your work in progress.
I try to prepare for a writing retreat by making sure I have the right sort of project and that I clear my “real life” of distractions that might creep into the weekend. Actually, this last weekend, I did a bad job of choosing the project. I’m working on revising, and I found that I did not do as well as when I bring a hot draft to a retreat. I’ll know that for next time.
Never mind the inspiration, just focus!
Part of my problem with choosing a revision project instead of a hot draft, is that when I’m revising, I tend to stare off into space while I think. When I’m at home, in my little office, there’s not much to look at and I quickly go back to work. But at the beach… I just stared at the waves for hours! I needed to bring my focus closer.
A good writing retreat has a clear focus, whether it’s writing, brainstorming or just refilling the well. Be sure you know what purpose your retreat will serve.
Track progress on the retreat days.
Like tracking the sun across the sky… It’s easier for me to stay accountable if I track my progress in three chunks during a retreat day: morning session, afternoon session, evening session. If I only review my progress once at the end of the day, I might find I didn’t do enough, but now it’s too late. If I track in chunks, then a slacker morning session (sun on the beach!) can be rectified in the afternoon, or a slow afternoon (afternoon nap on the sunny beach!) can be made up in the evening (no sun).
Indulge.
As much as I want a writing retreat to be productive, well, it is a retreat. I try to capture some of that glory — and some of that sun — and take it back with me to rainy Portland.
Do you have a favorite getaway that never fails to rejuvenate you? Do you bring back souvenirs? I love to find good rocks.
Currently working on: Hot draft of new story Mood: Borne & buffeted
Sometime in January, I like to pull my Tarot cards for a start-of-the-year spread, to see where I’m at. This year, so far, I’ve been too busy to take a quiet night to get into the right space to think about things. But with the month almost over (and how did THAT happen?!) I figured I better get at least ONE card done so I’d have something to contemplate on my dog walks.
I pulled the Page of Swords. I use the Mythic Tarot deck by Juliet Sharman-Burke and Liz Greene, illustrated by Tricia Newell. This deck features Greek mythology which I loved as a kid, so I relate to the stories.
The Page of the Swords is represented by Zephyrus, the Greek god of the West Wind. His card is ambivalent — as the Swords tend to be cards that poke at your complacency — since he and his brother the North Wind started out as malicious little shits, prone to starting storms just to knock things over. Eventually Zephyrus married Isis of the rainbow, which mellowed him out. But still, having him start my year gives me lots to think about.
The positive aspects of Zephyrus as the Page of Swords are curiosity, enthusiasm and the emergency of new ideas. The downsides are irritability and petty quarrels that blow up into battles. As I move forward with some new story ideas, I guess I better practice my patience. That’s usually on my list of New Years Resolutions, so I suppose that’s okay. Sigh.
I like this picture of Zephyrus because he is puffing up all these great clouds leading into a blue sky… but the way he is holding the sword makes me think he is about to burst his own bubble. He had better be careful which bubbles he bursts, since some of them are holding him aloft. I better make sure I’m puffing up the right dreams. Not there’s anything wrong with walking sometimes. Ask my dog.
If you play with tarot cards, did you get any thoughtful readings for the new year? Or if you want me to pull a card for you, just let me know in comments and I’ll see which Greek myth might be right for you.
Currently working on: Getting back in the groove Mood: Groovy
I can’t find my New Years Resolutions from 2011. I know I wrote them down because goal-setting gurus tell us we’re supposed to write that stuff down so I’m sure I did. Somewhere. Somewhere veeeery safe and special so I wouldn’t lose the list, so I could review it and see how I did.
Looking back at my Silk & Shadows posts from early in 2011 I see several references to cleaning my closets and exercising more. Uh… Yeah, anyway, moving on to 2012.
What with the world ending on December 21, 2012, though, I’m not sure I should bother with a new list. According to some eschatological* interpretations of Mayan prophecies, the world ends with the end of one of their calendar cycles on 12/21/12. I know I often feel apocalyptic when Christmas is rolling around, but actually ending the world seems a little melodramatic. The calendar cycle in question marks 5,125 years — give or take a few holidays — which is about how long it would really take me to clean my closets.
Still, I think I’m going to discount the December 21 end of days. Mostly because the people who predict apocalypses always seem a little sad and angry. And perverse. Like they are DISAPPOINTED when the world doesn’t end. Jerks.
Here are some of the comebacks I’ll be using for the post-apoc-ers who will be running rampant this year:
Let me introduce you to a friend of mine. His name is Y2K. Perhaps you’ve met.
Then can I have your dessert?
I wanted to have three funny comebacks, but I only have two. That’s okay, though. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.
And fine, I guess I’ll put closet cleaning and exercising back on my list for 2012
Do you have perennial resolutions? If so, how do you keep them fresh and interesting?
Also, congrats to last week’s winner of the DARKNESS UNDONE
Advanced Reading Copy, courtesy of Random.org, Kate!
* Eschatology is the study of end times. What? You didn’t know there was a word for it? Neither did I. Never stop learning.
Currently working on: Finding the worst white elephant gift Mood: Hunting
Too much butter and sugar is slowing me down. I only have a few days left to find a white elephant gift for my tribe’s annual Christmas Eve bestest party in the whole wide world. As a stereotypical introvert, I’m not usually into parties, but this party is one of my favorites and I want to do it right. Or wrong, as is the right way to do a white elephant.
A good white elephant is, of course, a bad white elephant. For those who aren’t familiar with the tale, the term white elephant came from a story that Siamese kings gave these giant, hungry, pooping, occasionally rampaging animals as “gifts” to people who really “deserved” them. Horrible art, eye-searingly ugly clothing and excessively large items of any sort are perfect white elephant gifts. But I’m having some trouble this year.
At my day job white elephant exchange, one woman got a can of Spotted Dick. There was much adolescent snickering. (Yeah, my day job isn’t too worried about sexual harassment cases, apparently.) Since I do marketing work in my day job, I was horrified to read the instructions on the can and snapped a picture to share with my Twitter friends.
(What? You don’t follow me on Twitter?! Find me there and say hey, so I can follow you back.)
Now you can snicker at Spotted Dick too. I mean, seriously, who uses “spurting” in ad copy?
I thought about getting a can for my giveaway, but it seemed like a cop-out. I need something worse…
So while I was researching/surfing the web for white elephant ideas, I found porcupines instead. So for your Christmas cookie-eating pleasure, here’s Teddy:
I’ve decided to get a talking porcupine in a Santa hat for my white elephant gift. Perfect, don’t you think?
But if you have another suggestion, please feel free to share and save my friends from either of these terrible gifts.
Currently working on: Last bits of Christmas prep Mood: Festive
Last week, my XY who had been gone, out of the country, for two months finally returned home. And there is joy in Whoville!
He was touring Europe — Germany, Switzerland, France, Italy and Poland — as Rainstick Cowbell. Just a boy and a guitar, wandering narrow alleys to dive bars, literally singing for his supper. He hates the dry sound of club recordings, but here’s a glimpse of the life of a touring musician:
He got home just in time for the holiday madness. We went and cut our Christmas tree on Friday. And it was actually a sunny day in the Pacific Northwest!
I have almost completed our transition for regular tree lights to the new LED lights, which are super-trippy when I shone them on the walls. (Uhm, yes, there might have been spiced cider spiked with Hot Monkey Pepper Vodka involved.)
Since we don’t have much room in our house, we get the classic table-top Charlie Brown skinny tree. (Yes, the tree is slightly crooked; again, I blame the vodka cider.)
Having my sweetie home, my holiday madness under control, and a pretty tree decorating my picture window is reason enough for joy. What’s yours? Besides vodka cider
Yes… Who would’ve thought the jackalope was the first harbinger of aporncalypse.
Other Posts by Jessa Slade 
Go to the beach at a yucky time of year.
At my day job white elephant exchange, one woman got a can of Spotted Dick. There was much adolescent snickering. (Yeah, my day job isn’t too worried about sexual harassment cases, apparently.) Since I do marketing work in my day job, I was horrified to read the instructions on the can and snapped a picture to share with my Twitter friends.
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