Sunday in Seattle (I wish…)

Hi, all–

I am a huge fan of Seattle. The Pacific Northwest is one of my fave regions in this country, and I love visiting. Seattle has a great literary and arts scene.

If you’re a writer-type of spec fic — which I am — Clarion West runs an awesome workshop. Here’s some skinny:

The mission of Clarion West is to provide a high quality educational opportunity for writers of speculative fiction at the start of their careers.

Speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, horror, magic realism, and slipstream) gives voice to those who explore societal and technological change along with deeper considerations of underlying archetypes of human experience. Clarion West brings new writers to the field of speculative fiction by providing a venue for a transformative experience in the form of a lengthy and intensive workshop focusing on literary quality, diversity of viewpoints, range of material, and other essential qualities.
source: Clarion West website

Clarion West is also doing a free readings series over the summer.

And because I also write mysteries, you MUST NOT leave Seattle without visiting the Seattle Mystery Bookshop. If you go, ask for Fran. She’ll hook you up with great recommendations and stories as well as local Seattle tips for food and drink. Tell her Andi sent you.

And, if you have time, see if you can catch a reading by Gina Ranalli, a horror/bizarro writer who’s one of my faves in the genre. She’s a local up there, and does events on occasion. Tell her Andi recommended you check out her books.

Oh, and because I’m a freaking music fanatic, stop in at the Experience Music Project museum, which blends creative innovation, technology, and pop culture/music. Awesome.

And yeah, if you’ve never been to Seattle, swing by the Pike Place Market and take a ride up into the Space Needle. TAKE YOUR CAMERA. The views from the Needle are freaking unbelievable. I was at the Pike Place Market a few years back and my shoulder was bugging me from god-knows-what and ta-da the Market had an acupuncturist available and he fixed me right up. Maybe take one of these awesome tours — ghost or true crime (the Pacific Northwest has an…um…interesting true crime history).


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Anyway, you can find or see just about anything at the Market. The last time I was there, fellow author Joan Opyr and I managed to end up in a crowd of people intensely interested and sort of tailing after a lesbian BDSM lite couple through the market, dressed in full S/M vinyl regalia (and both looked like freakin’ models), one in red, one in black. One had a studded collar around her neck, the other held the leash. Serious stiletto heel boots. Our conversation went like this:

ME: “Those are great outfits. Seriously.”
JOAN: “I like how they match.”
ME: “The heels on those boots could do some serious damage if she stepped on somebody’s foot. They’re probably also good for squishing bugs in corners.”
JOAN: “Takes real skill to walk in those things. Or wield them like weapons.”
ME: “Takes real skill to dress in that. I’d be better off painting myself red than trying to get in there.”
JOAN: “I’d paint myself black and then we could go out clubbing with them.”
ME: “Cool. But in this town, nobody would notice.”

I freaking LOVE Seattle.

All rightie, happy writing, happy reading, and happy traveling!

Things not to do when you’re in Congress

Hi, kids!

Lordie. Had quite a lot going on, and I’m finally able to chill out and provide some tips to you and, hopefully, certain parties in the state and federal legislatures who I’m sure read this blog religiously. Actually, this is pretty good advice for all of us.

Wanna know? Click on…

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Thursday giggles and iconic pizza

Hi, kids! Sorry about that; been a bit under the weather. Caught this awesomely hilarious bit Jon Stewart did about the Donald taking Sarah Palin out for pizza in New York.

Now, for those of you who don’t know, New Yorkers are proprietary about their pizza. And well they should be. There’s a wonderful pizza heritage in New York, and I do think that there is, in fact, something about NYC water that makes the dough as good as it is. A native New Yorker told me that, too.

So it’s no wonder that a New Yorker will want to take you to a New York pizzeria to try the “real deal,” like Lombardi’s, America’s first one. Originally opened in 1897 as a grocery store, it became a pizza joint in 1905 when New York issued mercantile licenses. Though pizza didn’t become really popular in the U.S. until after WWII, Lombardi’s kept on selling until 1984, when it closed but reopened it 10 years later, and the traditions continued.

So here you go. Jon Stewart on New York pizza:

source: The Daily Show

This ain’t Blondie’s Rapture (sadly)

Hey, all–

So, presumably, at least half of you have heard that the Rapture is this Saturday. For those who are not up on Christian eschatology, that’s the day when the chosen ones are called on up to heaven and all the unbelievers and unsaved are left to rot here on the planet as it basically self-destructs. Pleasant for those of us “left behind,” if you will. [snark]

And yes, I am not among the chosen. Not that I ever pretended to be or wanted to be. I don’t believe that religion makes you more moral than others, or that it makes you special or superior to others. Nor do I believe that one religion is better than another, or that there’s a hierarchy of people that God, however you perceive him or her, designates.

At any rate, I like a good apocalypse, but stuff like this — with people proclaiming specific dates and thus usurping what’s supposed to be a power reserved for deities — makes me nervous, because a lot of people buy into it, and that’s just walking the cult line.


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All that said, Harold Camping of Family Radio has been perusing his King James bible for decades, and he’s been looking for secret codes and numbers that would tell him exactly when the Rapture happens, and after manipulating those codes and numbers (using his own numerology), he came up with May 21, 2011 as the date. And because Camping’s been around since the 1950s, Family Radio has had lots of time to build up an audience. Which it has. It’s translated into 61 different languages and there are Rapture billboards all over the world.

More? Click on.

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You. Must. Chill.

All right, this week has been crazy scary busy for me. One thing after another and deadlines and freakiness and…like that.

So tonight, I’m passing along a message that I used to tell my college-aged students when I was teaching. It was kind of a challenge I issued to them, if only because them crazy youngsters come out of the womb with electrical, not umbilical cords. I’d tell them this:

Be Amish for a week. Or at least a weekend (no disrespect at all to Amish people).

That is, unplug. Turn off your TV and computers. All your electronic devices. Leave your phone at home. Don’t drive anywhere. Or, better yet, do drive somewhere out of reach, like a cabin in the middle of nowhere with no internet connection and no TV.

Learn how to be with yourself, without the distractions of electronic devices that so many people today seem to define themselves either with or as. You are an individual, and healthy individuals need to spend time alone, without distractions, without obsessively checking email or text messaging. Get off the information superhighway and reconnect with your immediate surroundings, your family, your neighborhood.

And make this a habit. At least 1-2 evenings a week be tech-free (Amish). And extend it. You don’t need the constant mind-numbing bombardment of information, or the corporate-driven consumer drivel that makes you think you need things you really don’t. Turn it off. Build a community, build a true revolution that emphasizes individuals working in tangent with other unique individuals to oppose the brainless prattle that passes for “news” and “information” these days. Go to a library and read. Spend time with yourself, and spend face-time with people, rather than interacting via text and email.

Reconnect with nature. You need balance in your life, and being constantly plugged in to something techie is robbing you of real, sensory experiences.

So try it. Be Amish for a while. It could change your life.

Happy living!

When info goes bad…

Hey, amigas y amigos–

In this age of info immediacy, we’re used to just slamming stuff onto the web and going with it. We cut and paste, we disseminate, we make things go viral. But sometimes, the information we’re disseminating isn’t always correct.

I’m reminded of a game my elementary school classmates and I would play called “Telephone.” Usually, this was a game that a teacher implemented to demonstrate how information can be distorted and why it’s important to listen and pay attention. This was before household computers, folks. Before the interwebs.

So read on to find out why the hell I’m telling you this.

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Paranormal reality bites

Dammit, sucked in again. Wednesday nights I turn on the SyFy Channel because there are ghosthunting shows on. Ghost Hunters (TAPS) in particular.

Do these folks actually scare up ghosts? Do they actually document strange happenings? My feeling is a big, fat, no (and if you Google whether TAPS is faked or not, you’ll come across some debates about it), but so? I like the people who are involved, and I like the cool places they go. One show took them to the Birmingham, AL old steelworks and I learned a bit of history with that, which was cool. Anyway, they’re all so totally earnest about their hunting, and they get into these deep discussions about what they might or might not actually be hearing:

Ghost Hunter 1: “Did you hear that?”
Ghost Hunter 2: “Shh…”
1: “Dude, it sounded like footsteps.”
2: “Yeah, it did. But a certain kind.”
1: “Yeah, not sneakers.”
2: “No, more like hard soles.”
1: “Definitely hard-soled shoes in the hallway.”
2: “That’s it, yeah. Hard-soled shoes out there in the hallway.”
1: “And it went on for a few seconds.”
2: “Wow.”

And then, of course, the skewed camera angles to give extra weird effect, especially if they’re sneaking around a museum or library or something that features displays. Oh, and my fave is when one of ’em says “Oh, my God. Did you see that?” And BOOM cut to commercial and then when it comes back to the show, it has to backtrack a little and then with the “Oh, my God. Did you see that?” you find out it’s actually just some weird shadow that’s from outside or something kind of lame like that.

BUT SO?

Who DOESN’T like a good ghost story? Who DOESN’T like to try to creep their friends out with a ghostly story they heard or something weird that happened to them one night (embellished for extra super special scary effect)?

I enjoy a good ghost story, and I think that’s why I watch shows like this. I like thinking there’re things out there I can’t explain, and that maybe there are conduits to other worlds. Plus, they provide some nice inspiration for even more stories. Nothing wrong with a bit of skepticism, but there’s also nothing wrong with a bit of “what if…?” either.

And that’s what writing’s all about. 🙂

I love coffee

And writing can help you love it more and even sell it!

Hiya, readers. As some of you know, I’m a coffee nut. I like dark, rich, smoky brews, and when I was living in a tiny town on Colorado’s Western Slope, I found this organo-nature-woo woo food store that carried a variety of coffees from a variety of independent roasting companies. One of those was Raven’s Brew, based in Alaska (but now with a roasting base in Washington state).

Anyway, I discovered “Deadman’s Reach” blend, which is a seriously dark, roasty, smoky blend that Raven’s Brew created that gets the dead up and walking, friends. Look:

How can you NOT want to grind some of these beans right up and brew yourself a cup RIGHT NOW?

But the reason I bring all this up is not necessarily to get you to buy some of the fab coffee from Raven’s Brew (though please, do so if you are so inclined), but to direct your attention to a novelette — a murder mystery — written in honor of Deadman’s Reach coffee. Here’s the first little bit of it:

Chapter One
No More For Me, I’m Dead
“I never thought death would be like this,” Allen thought to himself as he swung his feet out of his body. “It’s like watching a cheap TV with bad reception, only I can still smell the coffee.”

The rain fell like dried beans on his tin roof as it had done in life, and the mold grew in roach-like splotches on the grout around his bathtub as it always had. He was lying on his back in the tub and the slick sliver of green hand soap was safely cupped in its scummy chrome holder. The ring of chalky grime on the porcelain surface was the same as it ever was.

“Man…,” he thought, “I’ve got to clean this place up.”

It was then he noticed that he was standing next to his body looking down at himself and there was blood tracked across the floor. “But first I’ve got to have a cup of that coffee. I’m sure it will make things look better.”

Clever, that novelette. A cool little marketing tool that ended up being kind of fun, kind of macabre, and it involved a yummy coffee. I’m always on the lookout for stuff like that. Fun, quirky, and that ends with the convergence of things I like. So thanks, Raven’s Brew! And yes, I did just order some Deadman’s Reach.

Happy reading, happy writing, happy coffee!

Random Slot Canyon Slideshows

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a Southwesterner born n’ bred, and some of my absolute fave landscapes are red rock canyon lands. If you read the first book in my NM series (hint: “Land of Entrapment”), see if you notice the slot canyon reference. I derive endless hours of inspiration from visiting canyon lands and from just looking at photos of them.

And that’s why I’m sharing some slideshows I found with you. Because there’s just not enough beauty going around the world at the moment, and I think there’s always time for a zen moment.


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From americansoutwest.net:
Slot canyons, Escalante River (UT) slideshow

Holeman Canyon, Canyonlands National Park (UT)

Static photos, Cottonwood Wash, Capitol Reef (CO)

Static photos, Buckskin Gulch, Paria River (UT)

ommmmmmmm…

All hail the TIKI!!!!!

I have another obsession besides zombies. Okay, it’s not as much of an obsession, but it is part of my kitschy side. At one time, I owned easily 15 different authentic Hawaiian shirts, many with tiki icons on them, a few genuine retro, and some so hideously ugly that only a furiously angry and displeased tiki god would appreciate them as much as I did.

I also try to go to tiki bars whenever I can to partake of the absolute kitsch fest that this aspect of our strange American culture hides in the backs of its lounges.

I bring this up because tiki culture just SCREAMS for some fun settings for writing.

More! CLICK IT!

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