Why I Don't Share Food...

I have a lot of food memories from my childhood. BIG shock there right? The girl who has battled her weight(and mainly lost? What's next? The new pope being Catholic? I mean really people. There is a episode of Friends where the running joke is "Joey doesn't share food". That is the line repeated throughout the episode for laughs. My story isn't as funny oe well acted. I try not to share food with anyone. Not because I want all the food to myself, but because I fear that is what people think. As a kid on Sunday afternoons after church on the way home we would often stop at the gas station and get one drink and potato wedges. My mom, dad and sister(this was before the baby was born) would share these while driving around. We truly were those people with no where to go and all day to get there. It was cheap entertainment for people on a limited budget...or poor people as we called ourselves back in the day. There were a more than a few times that I got the last of drink of soda or the last potato wedge and became the brunt of some good natured ribbing. No one ever tried to hurt my feelings and quite honestly it doesn't take much to hurt them. This joking around spilled over as I got older. I became very self conscious of taking the first or last of anything. I didn't and still don't want people to think that I'm "hogging" the food as my uncle once told his girlfriend. Rule number one - Don't ask for anything. Rule number two - Don't share food or drinks. I broke that second rule recently. A friend of mine asked if I wouldn't mind sharing a sandwich and chips. I didn't see where it would be a problem. I told my friend beforehand that this would be my supper meal. The sandwich part was fine as the place had sliced it in half. I opened the chips and began eating them. After a time I told my friend that I am eating the chips and again reminded that this was my supper meal. This person had previous mentioned that they would be eating later and that this was just a snack. My friend then asked to have what was left of the chips. It wasn't much but I obliged. After we had completed eating my friend asked if I wanted dessert. I politely said no. She then implied that since I had ate all of the chips that I should pay for her dessert. All of those issues of being teased and the feelings of humilation came rushing back to the surface. Did my friend think I was a pig? Why did I agree to share? I grew angry at myself for agreeing to the meal and at my friend for what I felt was emotional blackmail. Feelings aren't right or wrong. They just are. My friend apologized once I explained myself. I wish I could say that I'm fine and that it doesn't bother me anymore. Unfortunately it does. Not as much as it did in the past thankfully as I have changed. But the fat little girl I was still lives inside of me and she struggles to let it go. And that my friends is why this girl doesn't share food....

A Wrestling Girl's Fan Moment at Fandomfest...

Many people are blogging about the problems with Fandomfest/ Fright Night Film Festival. After all there were problems with everything from ticketing to photo ops to the desperately needed signage. These have been documented and debated countless times. I’m going to tell you what was GREAT about this con. I attended Fandomfest as an exhibiter thanks to author Amy McCorkle. She allowed me to share a table with her and fellow author Pamela Turner. We were in the Vendor room with some awesome people. Some of whom I knew before (Dave Mattingly, Tony Acree, Frank Hall), some I knew from facebook (shout out to all my fellow Hydra Publications authors and S.B. Knight!) and many I met for the first time (Author J.H. Glaze, Alicia Justice, Susan, Sarah, Andrew, etc.). Anyone I forgot I apologize…after five days I’m still exhausted from the event! I also would like to give a big shout out to one of my idols from childhood. Every Saturday morning my sister, uncle and I would get out of bed and watch cartoons (the only day of the week that they use to be on). Then at noon we would watch local wrestling. It was called many things but most remember it as the USWA Wrestling. From those Saturday mornings grew a love of wrestling and one of the guys I remember most is Jim Cornette. Jim was known as the tennis racket wielding manager known for his dirty deeds. The Jim I met Saturday had that charm and quick wit I remembered. He was also warm and inviting. I told him that I was his biggest fan and he ran with it. For the brief time that I was at his booth it was our running gag. I told him that a picture with him would “kill” my uncle. Jim laughed and said well let’s kill him. Jim Cornette seemed to genuinely care that he gave each of his fans a moment that they wouldn’t forget and I thank him for it.

My Evening with Kevin Smith

My Fandom Fest journey began last Wednesday June 24th with the Kevin Smith/Jason Mewes event. My best friend and co-writer Amy McCorkle and I are huge fans of the Clerks director and his best friend/co-star Jason Mewes. If you have seen dvds like “An Evening With Kevin Smith” or “To Fat for Forty” you know what his Q&A is all about. If you haven’t I highly recommend you get it. We got to the show early. Even though we had VIP tickets I wanted to get there early so that we could park, find out where we needed to be and grab a quick bite to eat at a local restaurant. The Fandom Fest volunteers were very helpful and after getting our wristbands we headed across the hotel to eat at the Café Magnolia. The food was quite good if a tab bit expensive. I tweeted Kevin saying that we were waiting for the show and he favorited it. The fan girl in me was like “Yay, Kevin Smith read my tweet!!!” After dinner we went back to the event area and had a really long conversation with a couple named Joe and Sarah. They were AWESOME! Joe was so entertaining and knowledgeable. Saw them a few days later at the fest and got to talk some more. The event itself started with Brian O'Halloran, Dante from Clerks fame, warming up the crowd. He was funny, intelligent and generous with his time as he interacted with the fans. Jason Mewes came out and said that they would be showing the cartoon movie and then do the Q&A/Smodcast. The cartoon movie was funny but definitely not for children or people who are easily offended. READ: If you are a Kevin Smith fan you will probably not be offended. When Kevin finally came out he didn’t disappoint. He charmed me the way I knew he would. The show was raunchy, funny, and real. Toward the end and between the laughs Kevin spoke briefly about why he agreed to do this movie. Jason is a recovering addict and the movie helps keep him clean. That Kevin would do this speaks to his character and I on hope that I am as good a friend as he is to Mewes. The show ended with a little game that I won’t name here but let’s just say I had tears from laughing so hard.

Kentucky Speedway and Me...

Folks, this evening a tired but happy writer comes to you. As my family and friends know I am a huge NASCAR fan and in particular Kevin Harvick fan. This weekend Kentucky Speedway hosted it 3rd Quaker State 400 race in Sparta, Kentucky.

Just to give you a little back about me and NASCAR, I attended my first race at the 2006 Daytona 500. I thought that it would be one of those things that I could mark off of my bucket list and be done with it. Over the next four years I attended at least one and sometimes two races in NASCAR's top three series at Daytona, Charlotte and Kentucky. My addiction was born.

Racing was something that I shared with my dad. Every week we gathered on his couch and watched the race. I cherished my Sunday afternoons with him because it was about so much more than racing. Inevitably we discussed NASCAR bringing a Sprint Cup Event to out beloved Kentucky Speedway. Every year he surprised me with a Nationwide ticket and we prayed for a race at "our" track. In 2010 we were estastic when we heard that Bruton Smith had actually done it. We would have a race.

By fall 2010 my dad had some medical problems that landed him on the liver transplant list. We got the call November 21st that they had a liver for him. I remember it was a Sunday because as we sat in the hospital waiting on the liver to arrive from South Carolina we watched Jimmie Johnson become 5 time. I made the trip to the hospital each day. On the way there was an electronic billboard that advertised the race. Every day I would tell dad which driver was on the billboard and count down to the race. He never saw a Sprint Cup race at Kentucky. My dad lived for 32 more days and spent all but three hours of it in the hospital. We buried him in his sunglasses per his wishes because he thought the drivers looked cool in them.

Each year since I continue the tradition of going to the race as my birthday present (only now we have season tickets). There has been well document problems but let me tell you I have never regretted going. Each year has brought me joy. Yesterday during the rain delay I meet people from several different states and even Canada. We got to go to the season ticket party and met the Turtleman and Matt Kenseth. Saw Coach Cal. Big deal for the BBN fan in me. We tailgated, people watched and toured the haulers. You will be happy to know I did get my Kevin Harvick tee shirt. That is a must as it is another tradition. Not a great day for the 29 team but a solid top 10. Seven in a roll...consistancy wins championships!

I'm not saying that I enjoyed the race being postponed until Sunday. I'm just saying that I made the best of the rain. And for all you traffic haters...both days we went from the parking lot to drive way in Louisville in a little over an hour and a half. Thank you Kentucky Speedway! Can't wait to come back next year.

Why We Watch Reality Television

Most people say when out in company that reality television is terrible. They claim it’s garbage and that the networks should put better material on the air. Here is my take on it folks and it may upset some people. Networks put reality shows on for one major reason. PEOPLE ARE WATCHING THEM!

Hollywood is a business. Sure you ask a writer, an actor or a director if it’s about the art and about 99% of the time you are going hear that it is. The “numbers” people (producers, executives, etc.) will tell you its not. They want to make money. Reality shows get ratings. People watch them. There may be as many different reasons for watching as there are programs. Here are a few:

1. We love to people watch. Go to any mall and sit in the food court sans cell phone. Within about thirty seconds you will be watching the people around you. If you are a writer you will be creating dramas about these people and asking questions. Why didn’t someone tell that guy his shirt was ugly (to big, small, offensive, etc.) Is that girl who looks twelve the mother of that baby in the stroller? Where did grandma get those cookies? Is that old man sitting on the bench waiting on his wife?
2. Another reason we watch reality television is we as Americans love a good underdog story. I admit that I’m a sucker for a good story and reality TV can manufacture/display some of the best. I watch competition shows like The Voice, American Idol, Top Chef, because people are chasing their dreams. We get this brief insight into the “regular” people and think if they are chasing their dreams then why not me? I watch the ultimate reality show ever two years in the Summer and Winter Olympics. Not a reality show you say? I beg to differ. These are non Hollywood types that are shopped to American homes by their personal stories and compete to win a prize (metals).
3. We love celebrities even washed up and past their prime celebrities. America is a country without royalty (we did fight a war over this). So instead of Wills and Kate we use entertainment people. If we can get a glimpse into some celebrity’s life and see that they are human we feel connected and maybe better about ourselves. Much of these celebrity reality shows are depressing in my opinion. Other than a curiosity viewing I usually stay away from them. Anyone who watched shows like Being Bobby Brown and The Anna Nicole Show knew that tragedy was in the making.

Real life may not be perfect and it definitely not scripted but it’s easier to laugh when you can compare yourself to someone else. That is why there are Teen Moms, Jersey Shore, Honey Boo-Boo, and any of the housewives. It gives us the ability to say I’m may not be where I want but at least I'm not alone.

My thoughts about "The Great Gatsby"

I am trying to see at least one movie a week at the movie theaters this year. While it has been hit and miss I did make it this week. This week the movie was The Great Gatsby, a film that I have been excited about since hearing it was in production.

Let me state that I was not forced to endure the torture of reading this classic when in high school like many of my friends claimed to have been. I wanted to see this movie for two reasons. One - I am a huge Baz Luhrmann fan. From the quirky Strictly Ballroom to the modern take of William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet to my personal favorite the tragically romantic Moulin Rouge. His amazing use of costume and music to create fantastical worlds full of larger than life characters astonishes the filmmaker in me.

The second reason is Leonardo DiCaprio. Now some of you might think that I discovered Leo during his Titanic heyday but that is not the case. I first noticed him on the big screen in “This Boy’s Life” (on TV it was when he was Luke on Growing Pains). His talented turns in What’s Eating Gilbert Grape and The Basketball Diaries told me that guy was the real deal. He is an actor that is protective of his personal life so that he can disappear into each of the character he portrays. I have no qualms in saying that he is one of if not the best actors of my generation. I read once that James Dean’s death was the best thing that happened to Paul Newman career because the roles that would have been offered to Dean went to Newman. I often wonder if the same couldn’t be said for DiCaprio and the great River Phoenix. But I digress…DiCaprio’s turn as Gatsby is spot on in a somewhat spotty film. I found myself drawn to Gatsby as much as Nick was and wanted to throttle Daisy for abandoning him.

The Great Gatsby is full of the Lurhmann’s charm and style. What it lacks is the emotional connections of the above mentioned films. Part of the problem is, again I haven’t read the book, is in the character faults written in the original draft. I am going on what I have read in other publications and talked about with people who have indeed read the book.  Had Gatsby been written post WWII or post 1960’s it may have ended differently. In 1925 (the year it was written) Daisy was a former Louisville debutante who married old money. Women at that time were encouraged to marry, raise a family and if needed, make good of a bad situation especially a bad marriage.  So good girl Daisy went WAY off the script by having an affair with her “star crossed lover” Gatsby. I wished though that she went further and made herself deserving of Gatsby love/obsession. All that said…Thanks to Carey Mulligan I did like Daisy for about half the movie.

Tobey Maguire’s Nick was okay for this viewer. The first thirty minutes of the movie I waffled between thinking he wanted to be Gatsby and be WITH Gatsby. I felt he got better as the movie went on.

The rest of the supporting cast was good if not great. I do wish to give a big shout out to Isla Fisher and Jason Clarke as the doomed married couple Myrtle and George Wilson. Clarke in particular did so much with very little screen time.

My final verdict on the movie…if you like the book you will probably love the movie. For me it was 2 ½ Stars out of 4.

Tom Cruise and Oblivion...

I saw the new Tom Cruise movie Oblivion this week. Let me just say first that I’m not a big science fiction girl. Never have been but it doesn’t mean that I don’t like science fiction. That being stated though I liked this movie. I’ll try to speak in generalities but understand that it I might leak a few spoilers. If you want to see this movie, continue reading at your own risk. J

To anyone who hasn’t been living under a rock since the 1980s Tom Cruise is a movie star. There is no doubt about it. He skyrocketed to fame with the film like Risky Business and has never seemed to look back. He’s done the big budget action films like Mission Impossible and Top Gun. I’ve never been into that Tom Cruise. I like the Tom who did Rain Man and Jerry Maguire.

Watching Oblivion though realized why I liked those other two movies. Tom Cruise is never better than when he plays a character that it a little too sure of himself. You know that guy who knows his role in life. The man who not only lives on the edge but flourishes on it right until the moment he falls over.

Then viewers get to see what Tom does best. He takes this character that you think that you know, the one you have already invested thirty to forty minutes and spins him around. He makes choices as an actor that allows the viewer to feel as if they are a part of  the journey to self discovery.

In Oblivion, we meet Jack Harper, a futuristic electronic repairman who is two weeks away from completing his mission. Jack is another one of these characters who seemingly has life by the tail. It’s not until he begins questioning this that he realized that his “rebuilt” life isn’t what it seems.

The movie is not without its flaws. The pacing is a bit off and there is not nearly enough screen time for Morgan Freeman (but really I always think that.) The plot weakened as it needed more humans and less drones. But if you want to see Cruise at his best I highly recommend seeing it.

"Overnight" Success: Writer vs. Author

When I tell people that I’m a published author most are impressed. The next thing out of their mouth is “What have you written?” I then watch as the excitement drains from their face when they realize that I’m not E.L James (thank goodness!). We often hear about the “overnight” successes. People that sell a million plus copies of the first book they ever write. What we forget is there are more authors like me out there than E.L. James.

            I use the word author instead of writer because anyone can be a writer. Being a writer is easy. Being an author is hard. A writer doesn’t have deadlines to meet and can write whenever the "Muse" hits them. An author forces said Muse, at times at imaginary gunpoint, to meet the daily word count because the manuscript is due by the end of the month. A writer can doesn’t have to explain to his/her family why spending days at a writing convention is not only fun but more important than sitting on the beach with a margarita in hand.

            Writing is a hobby. Being an author is a career. Most of the authors I know balance full time day jobs with full time writing careers. Authors must able to multitask. There are deadlines to meet, edits to do, conventions to visit, publishing houses to research, swag to order, blogs to write…not to mention the BEAST that is SOCIAL MEDIA. If you want to sell your books you have to sell yourself.The actual writing is usually done in chunks (i.e. lunch breaks, car pool lanes, sleepless nights and predawn sessions).  

            Why do it? I can’t answer for anyone but myself. I am an author because it’s my dream. I’m a writer because it’s who I am. For a while I get to be anyone I want, go places that I dream and live in a fantasy world that is often better than reality.

Panic and the Attacks it Brings

Anxiety and panic attacks are words that often get thrown around in society these days. Anxiety is defined in the Webster Dictionary as: painful or apprehensive uneasiness of mind usually over an impending or anticipated ill.

Panic attacks are defined as: an episode of intense fear or apprehension that is of sudden onset and may occur for no apparent reason or as a reaction to an identifiable triggering stimulus (as a stressful event); specifically : one that is accompanied by usually four or more bodily or cognitive symptoms (as heart palpitations, dizziness, shortness of breath, or feelings of unreality) and that typically peaks within 10 minutes of onset

You can have anxiety without the panic attacks but I doubt vice versa. I suffer from both. There is not a time in my life that I can honestly say that anxiety hasn’t been a part of. I must say though that anxiety didn’t rule or ruin my childhood. I am a worrier. I think that it’s in my DNA. My mother is a worrier, my dad, sisters…I guess it’s just what we do.

Panic attacks are a different beast entirely. My first attack happened when I was about twenty. I worked the night shift at a big time shipping company (those who live in and around Louisville know who I’m talking about). A friend introduced me to a guy who I was interested in and one night I arrived early to work in hopes of getting to talk to him. I sat in my car running the script over and over in my head. You know the script where I came off as this amazing, funny, flirty, smart, so beautiful he will never be able to live without me type of conversation.

The longer I sat there the more nervous I became. I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart felt as if it was going to beat right out of my chest and I felt lightheaded. I didn’t know what was wrong. Was I sick? Having a heart attack? Whatever it was I just closed my eyes and prayed that it went away. It lasted about ten minutes and then I was fine. Twenty year old me chalked it up to nerves and went inside. BTW I did see the guy that night and was a big hit. Did work out you ask? That is another post. J

Over the years there were other “spells” and I admit they reached an all time high after the death of my father in 2010. Thankfully I’ve met others who suffer from anxiety and/or panic attacks. Through their advice and guidance I’ve been able to educate myself. I’m not on any medication but neither would I be ashamed/resistant if my doctor felt those meds necessary. My words to others dealing with this are you are not weak, weird or any other derogatory name small minded people come up with. You are normal…whatever that means….

Django Unchained Review

I just watched the much anticipated (at least in the eyes of this writer) Quentin Tarantino’s Django Unchained. Most of the reviews have been favorable but I must admit I was a bit scared that I would be seeing Kill Bill instead of a Pulp Fiction/Inglorious Bastards.

            What I saw was a film that was almost perfect. As I sit and reflect on the film I realized that Tarantino is a masterful director/screenwriter. This movie was about as perfectly cast as any film that I’ve seen in the last five or so years. Christoph Waltz was just as brilliant here as he was in his Oscar winning role in Inglorious Bastards. I read that Quentin wrote the part for Waltz and it shows. He showed off Waltz comedic timing and the off center intelligence that the actor is known for.

                        The other actor getting a lot of hype from this movie is Leonardo DiCaprio. From a girl that loves Leo as one of Titanic’s lovebirds I must admit I like a little of mean Leo. Calvin’s a complex character who is no stranger to getting his way and using cruel measures to keep everyone in line. Trust me you love to see him get what he deserves.

Kerry Washington gets little screen time as Django’s German speaking wife Hildy. The scenes with her and Foxx are heartfelt and she does so much with very little dialogue. As a viewer you know that this is a couple who would do anything for one another.

 Jamie Foxx IS Django.This is a character that not only African Americans can admire but everyone can. Jamie’s Django is intelligent with a thirst for knowledge. He is a loyal friend and a loving husband. Plus the fastest gun in the south. He is truly one in 10,000.

To close, Django is not for the faint of heart. It is violent and downright gruesome in parts. The use of the N word I admit is jarring as well. But I think that Quentin wanted you to feel that way. With the characters that were using it weren’t the heroes of the story. In my opinion he showed that the word should never be used at all. But if you can handle that or belong to the Tarantino fanbase I highly suggest that you give it a try…if just for the KKK scene alone.

Welcome Today Guest Blogger...Author Blaine Pardoe!

                           "Genre? We don't need no stinking genre?"

My most recent book, Virginia Creeper, is a book detailing a bizarre (paranormal) series of events related to a brutal series of murders in the Virginia Piedmont. Some people have said it’s a horror book, some say it’s paranormal, others classify it as a true crime, while others have labeled it as a thriller. I don't care what label is put on it but it is interesting that some readers seem to focus on this exclusively. Some books, and I think Virginia Creeper is one of them, crosses into a number of genres - and that should be okay. From the author's perspective I can tell you that all that matters to me is that it is entertaining for the reader.
I find it fascinating that authors have to fit our reading into defined taxonomies like the genre. While helpful for some readers, I'm not sure its fair for some of the books. For example my true crime book, Secret Witness. Is it a true crime, or a regional history (Michigan), or is it a legal (true life) thriller? Does putting a book into a category drive who will read it? What defines a genre is pretty vague. Let's face it, this problem has been around for a while. There were times in bookstores I had to look in two or more sections to find a book I wrote.
Some of this is my own fault - I admit it. In my writing career I have written bestselling business management books (Cubicle Warfare) a lot of science fiction novels (thirteen as of this summer) a traditional true crime book this year (Secret Witness) and a lot of military history non-fiction books. I write the things I like reading. As such, I write in a LOT of different genres.
There's a school of thought that writers should pick a genre and deep-dive into it. I know that's good if you want to build a solid following of fans devoted a particular kind of book. Me, I find that writing in different genres is much more healthy to me as a writer. And, because I write multiple things in these genres, I have been able to cultivate followings in each genre. Some follow me from one genre to the other - some don't. That's okay, as long as everyone has a good time reading my work.
Virginia Creeper doesn't dovetail well into any one genre - and for that I'm proud. It's more of a crossover book, one that either defines a new genre or fits into a number of others well. Suffice it to say that if you like horror, the paranormal, and true crimes - this book will play well into your sweet spot.
The old saying, "don't judge a book by its cover," should be changed. "Don't judge a book by its genre in Amazon.com."

Welcome Hydra Publication Author...Tony Acree!

Tony Acree was born in La Grange, Kentucky in January 1963. His short story fiction has appeared in Kentucky Monthly Magazine. He has written articles about his time as a stay at home dad for a women’s magazine as well as sports and information articles. His work has also appeared in The Cumberland, the Kentucky state wide newspaper outlet of the Sierra Club. He is a member of 　the Green River Writers as well as The Bluegrass Writers Edge, a creative writers group in Goshen, Kentucky, where he lives with his wife and twin daughters. Visit his website at Tonyacree.com. You can find him on Twitter　and Facebook. You can email him at Tonyacre@Gmail.com.

Excerpt:

The Hand of God

by

Tony Acree

It was 6 p.m. when the Devil walked into my office and had a seat.
Now when I say the Devil, I’m not talking figuratively. Lord knows that having spent the last five years as a bounty hunter, I’ve come face to face with every form of evil that walks on this scum-ridden planet: murderers, rapists, even a couple of freakin’ child molesters. So I have more than a passing acquaintance with evil, of both the male and female varieties.
But no, in this case, I’m talking in the literal sense. You know, as in Satan, Lucifer, Beelzebub, the goddamned Father of all goddamned Lies. That Devil.
You’re probably wondering if he was all red, with horns, a pointed tail and pitchfork. Sorry to disappoint you, but he wasn’t. He looked like any other well-dressed bastard in a snazzy suit and shoes to match. OK, he did have a red tie but I couldn’t see any tail coming out his ass. He was around six feet tall, blond hair and icy blue eyes. Guess we know where Hitler got his ideas for all that superior race crap.
And I bet you’re also wondering just how the hell I knew it was the Fallen Angel himself. I guess it was the same way Moses knew that the burning bush was really God and not just a couple of his buddies lighting the damned thing on fire and then pretending to be God while hiding behind the closest rock laughing. Let’s put it this way, if the Devil walks through your door one day, you won't have any doubts either. Take my word for it.
Anyway, I’d had a good week and was just getting ready to leave and lock the place up, looking forward to taking the weekend off from chasing bad guys and heading down to Molly Malone’s, when the door opened and in waltzes Satan, just as pretty as you please. He pulled up a chair near my desk and sits down flashing a row of pearly whites the Kardashian family would be proud of.
"Victor, you know who I am?" he said, eyebrows all arched and superior, although it was more of a proclamation than a question.

I nodded back and calmly opened the top right drawer of my desk, grabbing my Glock 9 millimeter I keep there in case of emergencies. I figured if this didn't qualify for an emergency, then nothing would.

"You know that won’t do you any good," he said.

He was right. Somehow I knew that. After all, for more than a couple of millennium at a bare minimum, people have wanted to kick Satan’s backside with no success. I just knew it wouldn’t do me any good.

But I pulled the gun out and shot the son-of-a-bitch right between the eyes anyway. Blamo!

A perfect gun powdered entry wound appeared smack dab between his eyes. But I could see no blood and no head explosion out the back, just a big hole and an annoyed look on Satan’s formerly pristine mug.
Now you would think that a guy, after being shot in the head, would exhibit some sort of adverse effects, but not this time. And folks, that’s just wrong.

Rachael Rawlings' Dearly Departed

I am the proud mother of three wonderful children, ages 15, 13, 11, and work as a Speech Language Pathologist in the local school system. I have a love of reading, writing, and drawing, as well as my menagerie of animals including two dogs, two parrots, two crabs and several fish tanks. My lifelong dream has been writing, and I have completed five novels. As an author, I have had the opportunity to draw ideas from my real life and the world around me. I am a native of Louisville, Kentucky, and live in Crestwood. My little town was a great influence on my first published book, Dearly Departed , especially the lovely little local cemetery.

Dearly Departed

Grave Reminders Series

"You're out late."

His voice came, filtered through the heavy air, deep and hushed.

"So are you, I suppose." I tried to keep my voice as even as his.

"As always," he replied, finally reaching the soft light of the moon. He paused and leaned against the low stone wall, comfortably.

The moonshine was generous to his sharp features, softening them with the forgiveness of the night. He was all angles and long lines, from the sharp blade of his nose to the golden arch of his brows. His eyes were impossible to see, but his hands were beautiful where they rested on a moss lined stone. A heavy gold band circled his thumb, looking tarnished in the dim light.

"It's a quiet night." The words that came were not the ones that I would have reasonably spoken. This was not a conversation that had any of the norms of social interaction.

"Not so much. The birds are complaining. They don’t like the fog."

I looked at him, immersed in the unreality of the scene. "You know much about birds?"

"More about the night. I don't sleep much. I tend to travel most often at night."

That explained a little, but not nearly enough to satisfy me.

"Why here?"

"I have my own reasons." He returned softly, no sting to his words. "You watch. I walk. We all have our little ways of coping with the time."

The conversation had little substance, but I was reluctant to leave him, even more to turn my back on him.

"Are you staying nearby?" The questions seemed general enough.

"You assume that I'm passing through? Yes, I am staying nearby." He looked away, the sound of a car's motor seeming unusually loud.

"And you'll keep coming back?" My hushed voice was reverent for the people that lay there, silent in their soullessness.

"Until I find what I need."

"And that is?" I honestly felt that I could help him. After years of living here, the graveyard had become my walking park, my backyard, and my pondering place. I knew most of the names intimately, as well as the familiar faces of the mourners that came to visit them.

"I'll know it when I see it," he responded with a frustrating calm.

The insistent barking of a dog caused me to turn back toward the gate where I could see the sleek shape of my mixed breed hound pressed against the slats.

"Baxter, quiet," I said, my firm voice bouncing like a crazy ball off the stone and wood.

"He's missing you," the stranger said softly, "and he doesn't trust me."

"He doesn't trust anyone until he can smell them," I said, frowning at the pacing figure of the dog behind the gate.

"Let him free."

Obediently, I went back toward the gate and let it swing open. Baxter ran through with amazing speed, his muscular legs eating up the ground as his long beagle ears flapped with each stride. He stopped abruptly in front of the man, his paws digging in the moist earth, his nose to the ground. It took only seconds for his sensitive nose to complete the assessment; he ran his face close to scuffed black jeans, tattered leather jacket cuffs, and over the beautiful hands before he allowed them to rest on his head.

"He's a fine dog. A good friend. He wants to know if he can trust me."

"He's usually pretty quick to warm up. Not the best guard dog, especially if someone was carrying a treat."

"He would know if someone meant you any harm. He's more sensitive then you might think."

I looked at him, pondering his cryptic statement. There was very little about this man that seemed easy to discern. He was watching the dog as Baxter investigated the yard, his nose working furiously. I allowed the hound into the cemetery only on occasion, but he had always been a perfect gentleman. He never misbehaved, barked, dug, or wet in the area. It was as though there was something in his canine manners that realized the place for what is was and respected it.

"It will rain soon."

My eyes went back to his face, my hands burrowing into my jacket pockets as the light wind tugged my hair out of my collar.

"Why do you say that?"

"I know. He can tell too," he responded, looking toward Baxter. "You need to get back home. I don't want you out in the rain."

"And you? Where will you go? You won't stay?"

"I'll see you safely inside. Then I'll go."

"You'll be back?"

He nodded wordlessly and I watched, frozen, as he drew close to me. Closer, I could see that his eyes were a very light color, but could not see the shade. The scent of him, something like pine and soap, enveloped me momentarily as the wind caressed his figure. He was tall, and I had to tip my head back to follow his expression. One long fingered hand caught my elbow and followed my arm down to my wrist where he pulled my hand from my pocket. He enveloped my freed hand in his gentle grasp, his skin surprisingly warm and dry.

"Come on," his voice was soft, floating on the breeze, mixed with the waning fog.

I followed.

My thanks go to Missy for hosting me on this blog tour. I have really enjoyed learning more about the craft of writing, and have been genuinely heartened by the many wonderful writers at Hydra Publications. I hope everyone joins me in reading the other great books that Hydra is representing.

The second in this series from Grave Reminders, will continue the story of my characters from Dearly Departed. I hope to explore a little further the line between here and there, the life and the afterlife.



http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"qid=1347232210HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"sr=8-1HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-Volume/dp/0615680186/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-1&keywords=rachael+rawlings"keywords=rachael+rawlings


http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"qid=1347232210HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"sr=8-2HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"&HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.com/Dearly-Departed-Grave-Reminders-ebook/dp/B0085WQ8C4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347232210&sr=8-2&keywords=rachael+rawlings"keywords=rachael+rawlings
　

　

Welcome Hydra Publications Author... Lyndi Alexander!

    BIO:
    Lyndi Alexander dreamed for many years of being a spaceship captain, but settled instead for inspired excursions into fictional places with fascinating companions from her imagination that she likes to share with others. She has been a published writer for over thirty years, including seven years as a reporter and editor at a newspaper in Homestead, Florida. Her list of publications is eclectic, from science fiction to romance to horror, from tech reporting to television reviews. Lyndi is married to an absent-minded computer geek. Together, they have a dozen computers, seven children and a full house in northwestern Pennsylvania.

EXCERPT:

          I peered out the windshield at the take-out bags of food Rick had left there. No sense in wasting it. Maybe I could persuade Dedra to take some home to her little bit of chaos. She was looking almost scrawny these days. That’s it, a good deed. I waited until my hands were steady, then climbed back out of the car to retrieve the brown paper bags.
            I’d just stashed them in my back seat when I heard a car pull up behind mine and saw the flash of red lights. Frowning, I straightened and eyed the police patrol car, its bubble gum machine in full radiance. I glanced at the sidewalk next to the car and saw no indication I’d parked in an illegal zone. I clearly wasn’t under the influence of anything, except perhaps a nice bit of feta cheese. So what was this about?
            I started back toward the vehicle, aware of faces popping into the windows of the buildings around, including the Greek restaurant, all gawking at the flashing lights. What kind of a criminal was on the street? they wondered. At first I couldn’t see through the shaded windshield, but the door opened  and Brendon Zale emerged, cocky grin on his face. As I approached him, he leaned on his open car door and looked down at me.
            “Do you have business in this neighborhood?” he asked. His tone was much too casual to be a serious inquiry. He was nearly teasing.
            “It’s a free country, last time I looked,” I retorted. “I was just leaving.” I stopped, then took a step back toward my car, since he hadn’t accused me of anything.
            “Wait a minute, now, don’t be that way!” He stepped away from the car and closed the      door, then leaned in the window to douse the red lights. The street went blissfully dark again, and the faces retreated.
            “Then don’t come on like a Nazi patrol.” Embarrassed, my voice reflected the sting to my pride.
            “Seriously,what are you doing down here? You live over on Thorn Road. You work on      First  Street.” He studied my face, his steely gaze looking for clues.
            A little chill ran up my spine at the thought that Brendon knew where I lived. “Just having dinner.” I gestured to the bags in my back seat.
            “Alone?” He shone his long black flashlight inside the car, taking in not only the bags but      the front seat as well.
            This was getting ridiculous. “What do you care, really?”
            “I hate to see a pretty girl spending her weekend nights by herself.” His expression relaxed into a wide smile.
            Idiot.“Right. Well, thanks for your concern.” I took another step toward my car door, genuinely ready to head home.
            He stepped between me and the door. “You need to be careful. Women shouldn’t be out      wandering alone after dark. After what happened to Lily Kimball…” He trailed  off, his voice thick with meaning.
            “What was that, exactly? What happened to her?” As my hackles rose, I went into defensive reporter mode, especially since I hadn't been able to get a straight answer from one cop yet on that case.
                “She ended up dead on the side of the road!”

Buy link: http://www.amazon.com/Love-Me-Kiss-Kill-ebook/dp/B008WCZIZK/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1347150179&sr=1-1&keywords=lyndi+alexander

Not broken...Just a little bruised

I have been away from blogging for some time now. I would love to tell you that I was off completing my great American novel or making the next Oscar winning film But to quote Jules, "We both now that s*** ain't true." What I have been doing is surviving. It's that plain and simple.

In November 2010 my dad had a liver transplant. I still remember the morning he got the call. He wasn't sure he wanted to do it. As we drove to the hospital he even said half jokingly "We should turn the car around." I told him to do that if it was truly what he desired. In that moment though, I wanted him to get the transplant. I thought that this was the way I got to keep him for another twenty years.

I won't go into too many detail but my dad 5 surgeries in the next three or so weeks (including another transplant). I was still trying to work 45 hours a week and when I wasn't at work I was usually at the hospital. I slept maybe four or five hours a night. My life revolved around my dad and his health. My phone was never out of sight and usually on my person. It was my life line to the most important man in my life. Or as my best friend Amy said, the love of my life.

On the morning of December 23rd I was sleeping when I received the call from my mom. She told me that they were in with my dad. I needed to get to the hospital. It was 6AM. I stumbled around in the dark, called my sister, and was in the car in less than 5 minutes. I live right outside of Louisville, KY. The hospital was a 40 minute drive on most days. It felt like hours that morning. I was less than ten minutes away when the phone rang again. It was mom again. She told me he was gone. I screamed No into the phone repeatedly. I had always made fun of such moment in films (i.e. Stars Wars). What I realize now is when you are told something that catastrophic you brain goes into instant denial. It couldn't be true.

I don't remember hanging up with my mom but I did. I called my uncle (mom's brother) and told him. It would be the beginning of many dreadful phone calls I would make that day. I really think that one of the worst things a person can do is have to inform someone that their sibling has passed. My dad had eight living siblings, it felt neverending. With each call I would have to break the news and then explain what little details we had at that moment. It was horrible.

Since dad died I struggle daily with missing him. So right now I am surviving. I refuse to say I'm broken...I'm just a little bruised.

Last of the Mohicans

While I was at my parents house this evening I stumbled upon my Dad's movie collection. I say my dad's because while my mother loves movies, she rarely sits through one. My dad was different though. He loved movies. Mostly it was standard movie going public films, read: No artsy fartsy indie films for him. He always told me "While movies can educate, they need to entertain".

One of his favorites was Last of the Mohicans. For years he would tell me that I would love this movie. I don't really recall now why I didn't want to watch it but I refused. A movie about a war between the English and French in the colonies? I didn't get it. He told me that there was a love story and I shrugged my teenage shoulders at it. Sounded like a old person's movie.

It wasn't until years later that my best friend Amy told me pretty much the same things my dad did. Again I balked but best friends have a way of saying, you're doing something whether you want to or not. Damn peer pressure. :)

I have to say they we're both right. I watched the movie and immediately fell in love with both Daniel Day Lewis' Hawkeye and Eric Schweig's Uncas. They were different types of heroes cast from the tall, dark and handsome mode. Both were brave and trustworthy, deserving of the swoons of Cora and Alice (not to mention me). Yet Hawkeye had a world weariness that Uncas, at his young age, had not developed. Had the situation been reversed Hawkeye would have went up the mountside to save Cora but he he would have thought about it instead of relying on pure emotion. During those scenes this is demonstrated by the way Hawkeye attacks the enemy. It is clear he is two thoughts ahead at all times. Uncas' reacted the way our hearts want our hero. He went after Alice without thought. He went after her without care. He went after her because she needed him.

In such uncertain times and dubious real life "heroes" I wouldn't mind a Hawkeye or Uncas in my life...just saying...

Jemima J

Jemima wants to work for a glossy magazine instead of a local paper. She wants to be rid of her flat mates, she wants a mother who doesn't harp about her weight. Most of all though, she wants to be thin. Jemima links her happiness with being thin. She's drank the kool aid that thin people are happy. When she discover the internet and the hot Brad, Jemima sells herself as the woman she wants to be. She didn't plan on meeting Brad. It was harmless, right?

The relationship with Brad grows as Jemima begins her transformation. She starts working out and eating right and the weight begins to come off. Jemima is aware of her weight loss but like with many of us big girls who lose weight, once a fat girl always a fat girl. You have to change your mindset. If you don't change your thinking you will never change your life.

Jemima, with the help of Geraldine, makes a big splash when she visits Brad in L.A. He is everything he said he was. Tall, blond, handsome and owner of fitness gym. Jemima is willing to overlook the fact that he's not an intellectual because he looks like a god and is great in bed. It takes some time for her to realize that maybe the relationship is not working as she had hoped. Brad spends little time with her and his assistant hates Jemima. She's living with a man she barely knows in a strange country with no friends. She thinks of home and misses Ben.

Ben had been her crush. The two had been work friends until Ben went of in search of greener pastures and a career as a presenter. Ben is a great character and it's easy to see why Jemima fell so hard for him. I admit that I fell for him a bit myself. These two characters grow so much throughout the book that you are rooting for them to find each other.

I don't want to give too much away, but there is a BIG secret about Brad that Jemima accidentally uncovers and sets her on a path of self discovery and into Ben's arms. I highly suggest this enjoyable read to anyone who has ever doubted themselves and is a big romantic (pun intended).

Gunpowder and Lead: Birth of a New Series

I've always had a soft spot for all things historical. I love history, but it's more than about the facts of who won what war and what kind of economical impact in had on the region kind of stuff. I love learning about the people of these time periods. Why did they chose to do the things they did?

In my fiction reading I am not ashamed to admit that I love a good historical romance. Dukes, Princes, lords, ladies, mere Misters and a governess or too. It allows me the escapism from a world that can be both depressing and terrorizing. For 400 pages (give or take a few) I can visit this world and live a life so very different from my own. :)

I'll admit that I have tried writing a historical romance as well with so mixed results. Recently though my best friend and co-writer Kate Lynd and I began discussing a new idea. Both of us were fascinated with the recent History Channel mini-series Hatfields and McCoys. We figured what if we set a fictionalized family feud in the post apocalyptic south? I was sold. I would get to write the past that was set in the future? That was all I needed to hear. And as easy as that my friends, was how our series Gunpowder and Lead was born.

I admit that the idea was a scary one for me. We had to create a world for our characters to live in. But there are some advantages to that as well. I don't have to worry about when electricity was invented, what was the political climate or most importantly how would my heroine dress? It's like when you are a kid and your dad tells you my house, my rules. Well this is my story and my rules! Please keep checking back to hear more about this series and my other trials and tribulations...

M--

It's Your Love...staring Kade Wentworth

The above image (which I do not own) was the inspiration for Kade Wentworth, my hero in the contemporary romance It's Your Love. Kade is a rock star in the stock car racing world. He's as cocky as he is talented and known for his quick wit and temper.

Ben Affleck has always been a favorite muse of mine. Beside being tall, dark and handsome I always sensed an intensity and a sadness to him. Things that I also knew, as only a writer can, that could describe Kade. A man who is cynical of all things including love despite having the world at his fingertips.

Then Allie Carter comes into his life and Kade finds her refreshing. He's is drawn to her in a way that he's never been drawn to another woman. One night with her and Kade finds himself questioning everything that he's ever know.

I'm so excited that It's Your Love was accepted by Hydra Publications and is currently available at the following links:

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/178704

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008H50OLU/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_06Xdqb1QZEMSD

Happy Musing!

M--