Lashing out

She is dressed in ruffled and flowing white, the gown falling off pale white shoulders glistening with sweat. Her hair, now flaccid damp curls and strings, is no longer hidden by the powdered wig that towered over and framed the virginal blush of her cheeks and the dark fringe modestly concealing the brilliant green of her eyes with fashionable curls flourishes. Fragile and softly rounded arms are corded with strain, her arms pinioned to two columns. Chains clank as she moves with each searing bite of the blood-slimed whip that whistles through the air before it cuts into the crimson-ribboned curve of her back, bare above the waist. She bites her lip and smiles in ecstasy, caught in the grip of la petite mort, the little death. She gasps softy and sighs, riding the ebb and flow of smoldering passion, meeting each thrust with an eager, welcoming embrace.

This is the scene in a forgettable, and forgotten movie, Waxwork and Deborah Foreman is the formidable actress who elevated this campy 1988 flick from pedestrian to something very special. Not even the performances of John Rhys-Davies, David Warner, Patrick McNee, the male half of The Avengers, or the sexy and handsome Miles O'Keeffe could elevate this beyond second rate C movie fare. It is Deborah Foreman's performance at the end of the Marquis de Sade's whip that makes Waxwork special.

Even if you're not a fan of sadomasochism and don't get a dark thrill from seeing a girl dangling between strong supports while she's whipped, this is something you should not miss. The other scenes in the waxworks that come to life -- Dracula's castle, the werewolf's cabin in the woods or the pharaoh's tomb -- don't have the sensual and riveting quality of the Marquis de Sade's dungeon. Check it out and let me know if you agree. I'll understand if you don't.

That is all. Disperse.

A Facebook event on marketing fiction

On Wednesday, August 19th at 11 a.m. EST, web marketing guru, Cathy Stucker,
will post on my Facebook wall (Jackie M. Cornwell, Colorado Springs)and impart
some of her marketing wisdom for authors of fiction of all genres. She's going to show us how to use nonfiction techniques to sell fiction. You can check Cathy out ahead of time at Selling Books.

As one author recently told me, once your book is published, the real work
begins - selling. Cathy Stucker is going to show us how.

Pass the news around and I hope to see you all share your questions. Cathy
Stucker will be around on and off all day on August 19th respond to your questions and
comments.

See you there.On Wednesday, August 19th at 11 a.m. EST, web marketing guru, Cathy Stucker, will visit here on the Wall and impart some of her marketing wisdom for authors of fiction of all genres.

See you there.

Halley's comet filled my sky

It's Monday so it's time to talk about exorcisms, garlic, wolf's bane and promotions. What? You don't think they have a connection? They do . . . at least in my mind. I have a tendency to make unusual connections, but that's how most of my writing begins -- unusual connections.

Demon possession, vampires and werewolves are not the only links between the above. I can exorcise a negative influence, or someone who takes me for granted. Garlic is great with almost everything, especially for making fresh tzatziki to go with fresh falafel, and wolf's bane blooms at night and has beautiful flowers with an exotic scent. It's all in how you look at things. So, what do promotions have to do with all of that? How about promoting a live Q&A with a published author whose work touches on those subjects -- or doesn't? Curious? Good. An announcement is coming that will change the way you think about nonfiction, fiction and promoting books that will thrill the hearts of all the writers out there. I know because mine is quite excited. Nothing like giving something back to the industry. Until the announcement, that will have to do, but if you don't have a Facebook account, you have about a week to get one set up and let me know about it or you will surely miss out.

I have been having strange dreams and most of them center around men. Yes, there is sex involved (it's summer and there's always sex involved), but that's not the common theme. The common theme seems to be acceptance and desire for my company.

There are times when I long for a full time companion. Most of the time, however, I am glad I'm single, especially now when I have to put so much energy into promoting my writing and my new, light on the romance novel. I don't think I could deal with anyone else's needs when the book takes most of my time and energy -- when I'm not earning a living and taking time out for food and rest, and the frequent occasional cold shower. It's summer and I get hot and sweaty; cold showers help keep me from boiling over, especially after a long night of dreaming. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)

In short, I don't have time for anything or anyone that pulls my focus from the task at hand, so I've made a list of people and things to put on a shelf until I have the time to give the kind of attention needed. This is why I don't have pets.

It seems a cut throat and cold way of handling things, but I prefer to think of it as honest. If something or someone is more of a hindrance than a help and require me to expend too much energy that could be used better elsewhere, it's kinder to cut them loose for a while. Think of it like Halley's comet.

For a while, Halley's comet with its long white tail streaking behind it in its spectacular progress across the sky both night and day is all we can see when we look up. The familiar stars are still there, but we know they will be there when Halley's comet is gone. It is, for most people, a once in a lifetime occurrence that must be experienced fully. It is a story to hand down to children and grandchildren and memorialized in prose, poetry and music. Attention must be paid.

I saw Halley's comet several years ago, wandering out into the street to gaze up with breathless awe during the day and standing outside at night for hours marveling at this miracle that was once considered the harbinger of death, destruction and evil. I remembered Mark Twain at those moments because he was born when Halley's comet passed over his home and died when the comet returned, his life marked by that spectacle like book ends to his life.

Mark Twain loved his family and his idyllic splendor, preferring the round of social visits and writing in the gazebo on his spacious lawn to the lecture circuits that made him famous or the business of publishing his own books. He would have preferred to spend his days with his family writing and entertaining, but writing is a business and to succeed sacrifices must be made. He sacrificed the company of family and friends to do what he hated most, lecture on his books and stories. It is the same for any writer wanting to make his work a success. Whatever takes away from the primary goal of making a novel a success must be sacrificed. That doesn't mean dropping out of sight and ignoring everyone, just those who do not contribute some positive influence.

After the dream I had last night, I realize that is what I must do today, cut away negative influences, black holes, that suck away my energy and time and give nothing in return. The transition will be instantaneous for me and probably go unremarked by those so influenced. That's the way of life. We are often so caught up in our own needs and the demands of work, family and personal pleasure that we forget about everything and everyone else. I get that. Now, it's my turn to make new friends, forge links with other writers and authors and move on with the business of success. I will still be available for some people, but others will find me conspicuously absent for a while. If you, like the stars I so love to watch and ignored when Halley's comet passed this way, are still there when I have time again, I'll be glad to see you. If not, well, some people and things were never meant to last. People come and opportunities go and the important ones make themselves known.

That is all. Disperse.

Bike riding hell spawn

Dawn has cracked the horizon with a loud and sonic crack that makes me squint my sleep-gummed eyes and sniff back the congestion muddling my brain. I feel fuzzy and my eyes are beginning to water in the horrendously cheery dawn. Someone turn off the lights or at least put a shade over it so I can sniff and squint in peace.

I have just crossed over the threshold and landed securely in cranky old lady land. Three boys, who believe that the big old mound of dirt and the two boards still straddling the hole over my sewage system after nearly six months is a launching ramp, were clattering over the boards and flying up over the mound of dirt that has slowly diminished in the rains, seeping and weeping down over the parking lot in a flood that courses into the city's sewers. The fluorescent yellow star bursts painted on the blacktop haven't faded, but at least I know what happened to the sunflowers I planted on the mound of dirt that used to be part of railroad tie bordered planter on the front side of the house. Those boys.

While sitting on the toilet, the boy and bike-shaped shadows whizzing by the translucent window caught my attention. I opened the window and there they were about to launch yet another airborne foray over the dirt mound, crushing the budding life of yet more seedlings.

"You boys need to stop doing that." They looked at me with the sneering contempt rowdy boys always favor the hopelessly old.

"Why? Is the dirt yours?"

Let's see. It's sitting next to my house and the boards run across the parking lot and up to my house, so, ignorant hell spawn... "Yes, it's mine. Those boards are over a large hole that goes down to the sewer system. If those boards give way, you'll get hurt. Stop riding your bikes over it or I'll call the police."

The boys shared a secret contemptuous glance and rode away . . . just out of sight . . . as I shut the window and finished nature's call. Whiz. Clatter. Airborne shouts of 14-year-old glory. One. Two. Three. All right. It's time to call the police.

As I answered the dispatcher's questions and waited for what seems like pregnant pauses gone into double digit overtime, the boys disappeared. Evidently, their last ride over the mound was their assertion of their belief that they could get in one more "screw you, old lady" ride before the police came. The dispatcher said that if I couldn't describe them and they were gone for now, the police department would do nothing. "How about keeping an eye on things while cruising through the neighborhood?" The eye rolling was audible even over the static-crackled line. Right.

Almost six months that degrading pile of straggling weeds has sat with its sad little white flag outside my bathroom window. The landlord said it would be gone before this, but someone screwed up because it's still there. The plumber needs to mark out the route of the bathroom sewage line, but it's marked out. The plumber needs to drop in a clean-out drain, but that hasn't been done. The dirt and debris are still there outside the window like a juvenile delinquent magnet for kids who should be playing in one of the parks up the street or some derelict property overlooked by broken windows and fire blackened trusses about to give way, not here.

On the positive side, at least they are no longer launching their bikes off my front deck any more. At least that is something. I wonder how much rebar I can get to plant upright in the dirt mound and provide a hazard to bike traffic? I could always get out there with the gardening trawl and dig troughs in the pile so that it collapses when they launch their bikes or take the boards away and let nature fill the gaping gash in the sewer line that runs beneath my plantar box or booby trap them in such a way they collapse or threaten to topple those brats into the still open hole in the sewer line, except that would add danger to an already attractive bike launch into space. No, best to keep the cops on speed dial and keep a camera handy to take their pictures so I can give an accurate description of their underwear hanging out the backs of their low riding surfer shorts and the tattoos on their contemptuous, gap-toothed, grinning faces. A picture is worth a thousand words and will get better results with the police.

That is all. Disperse.

Grammar: Clauses and phrases and commas, oh my!

As promised, today is another grammar day featuring -- commas.

Introductory causes

If using an introductory cause, you need to use a comma. Common starter words include after, although, as, because, if, since, when and while.

Because it is my turn, I'll take it now.
As if in grief, the paid mourners howled.
When I was a little girl, I was expected to be seen and not heard.

However, and you just knew there would be, if you turn these sentences around, no comma is needed because they are dependent (subordinate) clauses.


I'll take it now because it is my turn.
The paid mourners howled as if in grief.
I was expected to be seen and not heard when I was a little girl.

Turning this sentence around still requires a comma, even though it is a dependent clause, because it is an extreme contrast.

Although I have published articles, this is my first novel.

This is my first novel, although I have published articles.

It gets confusing when you add words like subordinate, participial and infinitive phrases, absolute phrases, nonessential appositive phrases and long prepositional phrases. Sometimes it confuses me.

Having set the table, she began to eat.
To get a hug, you must be willing to give a hug.
After dinner but before supper, I'll clean the andirons.
The water pouring off his body, Colin Firth's shirt clung to his chest like a second skin.

Introductory words, like well, yes, however, and so, should be followed by a comma.

Well, my mother does call me quite a bit.
Yes, she is nosy.
However, she is excited about having a published author in the family,
So, I talk to her.

And that is it for today. Well, continue this coma-inducing comma session next week. In the meantime, enjoy the weekend and may all your grammar problems be small ones. When in doubt, check it out.

Grammar: Commas, commas everywhere

A comma can change the whole meaning of a sentence, sometimes with disastrous or life-saving consequences. For instance:

Czarina Maria Fyodorovna once saved the life of a man by transposing a single comma in a warrant signed by her husband, Alexander III, which exiled a criminal to imprisonment and death in Siberia. On the bottom of the warrant the czar had written: `Pardon impossible, to be sent to Siberia.' The czarina changed the punctuation so that her husband's instructions read: `Pardon, impossible to be sent to Siberia.' The man was set free.

One book, Eats, Shoots & Leaves, the no nonsense approach to punctuation, is a prime example. Move the comma and change the meaning of the sentence.

Eats, shoots and leaves. You just know someone is getting shot after dinner.

Eats shoots and leaves. Without the comma, it is apparent whatever is described, in this case a panda bear, has specific dietary needs.

Simply put, commas can create havoc or make things clearer and easier to read. That's what Shakespeare intended when, as the story goes, the comma came into use during his time to help actors deliver their lines without muddling the meaning. A pause -- and that is what a comma indicates -- can be dramatic, pregnant or clear as crystal, conferring emotional weight.

We will take this slowly and give you a few things to remember, but by the time we are done, you will have a firmer grasp of commas. Let's start with the easy bits first.

Essential and non-essential

1) My sister, in the red dress, is very much the clothes hound. (The red dress is not essential to the meaning.)

2) My sister in the red dress is very much the clothes hound. (I am pointing out one of two sisters, so the red dress is essential to the meaning.)

Closely tied and not closely tied

1) My brother Jimmy has two daughters and a son (closely tied)

2) Shadow, the black cat I adopted, liked to sleep on the desk when I worked at the computer. (not closely tied)

In the first sentence the name is needed to identify the word, brother. In the second sentence, Shadow is not needed to identify the black cat I adopted.

Series and connected words

This is a simple one. For writers, it often depends on the publication as to which rule is used.

1) The patient complained of vomiting, nausea, chills, fever, rigors, aches, and pain. This is a common one for me and I abide by the rules for the company, the hospital and the style guide for medical transcription, and thus a comma is used before the last word int he series.

2) Your chores today include washing the dishes, laundry, vacuuming, dusting and washing the windows. Leaving out the comma before the and and the last word in the series is the most common usages. This does change with some publications, so check their guidelines and check the listed style guide.

The use or lack of a comma in a series depends entirely on style guides, of which there are several, and space constraints. Some publications don't want a comma before the last item in a series and some do. The difference came about when publications conserving space deleted the last comma. In writing, more often than not, the last comma is left out and its use considered subjective. It's best to check first, especially when writing for professional magazines, papers or newspapers just to be sure. In this case, the lack or use of a comma doesn't change anything, but the look. The meaning is intact either way.

So ends our first foray into the world of the comma.

Tarot: Truth, Strength and Success

One thing I've found is that the more I use the tarot cards to create stories and backgrounds for characters, the more I discover about myself. Like most writers, a piece of me and bits and shards of my life are interred in each story. Using the tarot cards helps me to see which bits work and which shine a light on the right path.

I've sometimes considered writing a story about a writer -- nothing new there -- who feels they are disappearing with everything they publish, nibbling away at their essence to create art and worlds that will spin on after the writer is gone. Immortality through writing, although that is more difficult these days with more and more people deciding they want to write and publishing their tales. With the current technologies that is becoming easier all the time. Those who would have kept their stories to themselves or hidden them between the pages of notebooks, diaries and journals stuffed into shoe and hat boxes, buried in drawers and boxes or saved onto disks for computers long gone when the writer upgraded. It has probably always been that way, but more people believe their work should be published and take advantage of the technology and send their fancies, fantasies and dreams speeding along the information highway and sometimes into print for a price. It is their truth and they want to show it to the world.

One man's truth is not another's. Truth can be subjective, depending on your point of view.




The hermit carries a lamp. Caped and cowled he prowls the streets and alleys looking for an honest man, looking for truth.

Diogenes he was called, a cynic who looked for something beyond the reach of his lamp, steadying his journey with a staff, the only flash of color the cord around his waist. The Hermit's lamp is the light of acquired knowledge, his staff the power of his will and the red cord about his waist the passion that drives his search. The truth the hermit seeks is the truth that speaks to him, the truth that resolves the clamor in his heart and makes him whole. He must be careful not to become entrenched in his search or too sure of his knowledge for there lies dogma and stagnation. Ever vigilant, the Hermit seeks for the truth of his soul, trusting himself and what he knows to get him farther down the pathway.

"The Cynics rejected all conventions, whether of religion, manners, housing, dress, or decency, advocating the pursuit of virtue in a simple and [non-materialistic] lifestyle." You could say those who press for the world to go green are cynics in a sense, casting aside the materialistic trappings of the modern world in favor of a gentler and simpler approach to life and sustenance, returning to the earth for nourishment and the bounties of the rivers, lakes, seas, winds and geothermal properties of this planet for a sustainable answer to comfort against the cold of winter and the stifling heat of summer. Like any truth, there is always another angle, another side to the multi-faceted jewel of truth. Be careful not to become trapped inside it.



This strong lady has the powerful lion on a chain held loosely in her hand, almost carelessly, as though she neither leads the lion nor follows him. She is not careless of her hold on her animal passions and has learned to use the strength they give her power and courage when they are needed. Her strength is not immediately evident, except in her direct and clear gaze, and is demonstrated subtly and quietly, like the feeling of a lover's or friend's hand when your own are trembling. That soft, calm touch is sometimes all that is needed to rally the spirit and stiffen the spine when facing a trial. It is the powerful muscles and sinews of a lioness hunting, at first alert and almost languid when roused to action, always aware of her surroundings, the direction of the wind and the resources of her prey. She holds her instincts in check, reining in her passion for the hunt, until it's time to spring into action and bring down the quarry, a symphony of grace, instinct and strength unrivaled.




The Six of Pentacles is a picture of success and open-handed largess. This man is successful and willing to share his wealth with those around him. He is a benevolent man who believes in fair trade. He's not out to cheat anyone; that is not how he became wealthy and successful. He recognizes the responsibility of his wealth and his success to give back a little of what he has honestly earned.

He shares his success without strings or conditions and is most likely a little uncomfortable receiving compliments or gifts in exchange for his favor. It's a small failing considering all the good he can do and has done. A momentary prickle of embarrassment he covers by offering a helping hand or a cup of water or wine to those who need it. He is no fool, nor will he be made a fool by those who seek to cheat him or take advantage. He is a moderate man who can be aroused to anger or disappointment to be so used.

In these cards is the story of a seeker, a woman who has followed the path of knowledge but is not without her charms. She is not ruthless, but she is determined and strong, although you would not know it to look at her. She is canny and can spot the smallest flaw or make a connection where none seemed to exist before.

This time she is after a rare map that is considered a forgery, but her researches indicate that in the proper light the map will lead her to the find of a lifetime. She's had a successful career, so it's not about the riches or the fame. It's about adding to her knowledge and deciphering the clues that have eluded her and countless other seekers.

The journey is dangerous and arduous, but she is well aware of her strengths and weaknesses and has taken time to cover all her bases with an experienced support crew that she pays very well -- for their secrecy and their expertise. When she finds the prize at the end of the journey, it will add to her knowledge and the knowledge of the rest of the world, something she will share without hesitation, for the prize belongs to the world. History will yield up its secrets to her because she has marked the path well and is certain of her success. She has prepared well and left nothing to chance.

Anxious to begin her journey, she waits for the right time of the year and the right conditions. What she seeks has been hidden for centuries, a few more days or weeks won't matter in the end for she is the handmaiden of fate and she will succeed.

What story can you weave from these images and insights? What will they say about you -- and to you?

Hoary acquaintances

It's kind of amazing -- and energizing -- to see your own novel in print.

I've been dragging my feet about working on the latest project and haven't felt much like writing anything. There's also the problem of finding time among all the marketing and promotional work I have been doing. Even writing here has been difficult to squeeze in because of all the work involved. In case you didn't notice, I didn't have time to write a grammar post last week, so I'll make it up this week by making two grammar posts -- one on Thursday and another on Friday. It will be the beginning of a multi-part series on the comma. It was a request and so far there's a lot more to that sprawling period than is visible on first glance -- a lot more. Since there's so much to the subject, I decided to break it down into manageable bites so no one, including me, chokes.

One perk of working on promotions and marketing is rediscovering old friends and letting them know what I've been doing for the past however many years. Another perk is other people I haven't heard from in ages contacting me because they heard, read or found out about the book. One such long lost connection contacted me on Saturday. We spent two hours on the phone, after exchanging numbers, catching up, and she asked me a big favor, a big paid favor.

She googled me and found a lot of my writing out there (there's a lot to find) before contacting me and, during the conversation asked me if I'd be willing to turn her screenplay into a novel. There was a momentary urge to say yes, but it was quickly smothered by the weight of work I already have pending. I said I didn't have the time now. She said she'd wait.

She and I worked on a screenplay many years ago, about two decades plus. It never went anywhere. I'm not completely comfortable with screenplay formatting, but it's something I can do when necessary. I'm more familiar with the formatting for plays, of which I've edited, revised and written a few. That, too, was many years ago, a part of my varied and diverse past. Still, it was flattering for her to ask, especially after she quoted some of my writing back to me and mentioned some of my work that she'd read. She's a tough nut, she is, and comes from a long and interesting background in the movies. She's been in a couple and worked as a directorial assistant to Francis Ford Coppola on a couple of films, the first being One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in which she also played a minor role.

Novelizing her screenplay is something to consider, but not while the muse is bubbling and sending new thoughts and dialogue into my head at all hours.

That's the thing about having a novel published and just out, at least for me, it's a great boost to pending projects. All kinds of plot points, characterization and dialogue keep flashing through my mind and the knot on the third finger of my right hand (I am right-handed) is getting a workout and becoming almost permanently indented from jotting down notes in the midst of so much other work. I can hardly sleep for wanting to get up and write, but I force myself to plunge back into the misty depths as soon as I've jotted down what the muse forces on me in my sleep. It's almost legible.

Mom called me yesterday with a contest to win your dream and I dutifully took down the information, but I already have the first part of my dream. The rest will come in time as long as I keep my nose to the grindstone and get the word out to as many people as I can about Past Imperfect.

You knew I couldn't go a whole post without mentioning the title.

I don't have a publicist, although I wish I did, but I do have some time not currently optioned by work, chores, writing, eating and sleeping and all of that goes into marketing and promotions. I don't want to be a one book wonder. There are so many wonders in my literary Aladdin's cave of dreams. On the other hand, winning that contest would mean I'd have enough money to hire a publicist and boost sales. That's part of my dream, too. Well, that and the cabin in the mountains and being financially secure enough to quit my day job and just write. Maybe then the muse will let me sleep and reserve her inspiration for my waking hours.

A shot across the bow

I've been swamped with work and getting marketing together for Past Imperfect, but it seems to be paying off. My publisher, L&L Dreamspell just sent me the link to my first review. Past Imperfect got 4.5 out of 5 stars. I'm pleased.

I'm ecstatic.

I'm high on ecstatic pleasure.

When I called Beanie to tell her she told me about her visit to the dentist. Eww, right? Wrong. She took my book with her and was reading it in the waiting room, carrying it with her when she sat in the dentist's chair. He asked her about the book and she told him her sister -- that would be me -- wrote it and that it is a romance. He said he and his wife would love to read it and asked how to get it. She gave him directions and he said he and his wife would have to have their own copies. Two more sales. Not much in the scheme of things, but one person became two and those two, if they like the book will mean more people. Who knows? My book may go viral.

It could happen.

Anyway, I'm off to spread the news. Happy Monday to everyone and don't give up on your dreams. It may take a while, but if you don't let go, they turn into books with good reviews. My first review is good so I can handle the bad ones now -- and they will come.

That is all. Disperse.

Tarot: Magical Mystery Tour

There are men who have the world by the tail and then there are men who just think they do. Which one are you? Oh, it goes for women, too.

Some women project an aura of confidence and expertise; they don't feel it inside. In the deep recesses of their hearts and minds, they are weak, ineffectual frauds who have learned how to fool the world, and sometimes themselves, into believing they are more competent, more self assured, more real than they are. They are magicians. If you look closely, you'll see these magicians aren't really good at their tricks. There's a card peeking out of their sleeve or the tail of a handkerchief cooing softly. Their magic is nothing more than illusion, not like the beginning of today's tarot post.



Look closely at the magician. He is he second card in the tarot deck, behind the fool who begins his journey will little experience and knowledge, but is game for anything. However, the magician's number is one (1) and he knows the secrets of the universe, can balance all four elements -- fire, earth, air and water -- and knows the best way to mesmerize you and put you under his spell. Or does he? Never forget the reversed card signifies a scoundrel, con-man, grifter or incompetent magician who just cannot seem to get his timing or his tricks straight.

The compelling gaze of the magician assures you he is aware of the laws of cause and effect and that he is in control. He is disciplined and responsible with the power he controls withing and between his hands with the tools at his disposal. He is focused and has honed his skills to a keen edge, yet he is aware of how much control to exert and that manipulating such power can blind him to the realities around him.

The magician is the messenger of the gods and he embodies the spirit of Mercury with his winged heels and hat as he flits between earth and the Olympian heights. When he delivers his message he never stammers or fumbles over the words; he has the patter down cold. He is a master of misdirection with the self confidence, talent, will and cunning to turn the world upside down, turn lead into gold and hearts to putting in his capable hands. Be careful how you deal with this magic man because he can see through your tricks and behind masks. The master magician knows the difference between illusion and reality whether it's his own or someone else's.



Even though the man in the Seven of Wands faces danger and a strong opponent, he is strong and brave and can face the odds in any conflict. He is practiced in the art of war and he will succeed in whatever war he enters. Though the enemy threatens, this warrior is certain of his strength and will, but don't look beneath the surface. The strength he projects covers his deep lack of understanding of what he guards. Behind the door is a balcony and night has fallen. He has nowhere to go but down and he probably doesn't realize it as he focuses on his opponents and relies on his mastery of the weapon he wields. This warrior doesn't fear attack to his beliefs. He is on solid ground. His beliefs are simple: serve, protect and don't question, and yet he is capable of change. He knows it never hurts to examine his position because it will add to his knowledge and his ability to defend his position, his beliefs or his country. He is not an obstinate child. He is willing to admit defeat when he's wrong and refine his position and he never gives up because he's afraid. There is nothing to fear in knowledge, except the lack of it. He is a staunch ally.



It is said that opposites attract. The Chariot could be seen as the opposite of the Magician.

Here is a woman of power so profound that she moves forward through all obstacles. The sun above her is the sign of immense power and focus and yet she is busy looking off in another direction. In her royal purple robes, she is ruler of all she surveys, but she is distracted, a little off balance, as she looks away from her chosen path. Don't get the idea she isn't in control; she is always in control -- most of the time. She is a woman with a strong will, but she has achieved her strength and her position without really understanding it. She has the ability to maintain order in the midst of chaos, but she lacks focus.

The sphinxes that pull her chariot are adept with riddles. One is silver and the other gold, opposites or opposing ideas, but they continue to move forward, posing their riddles to all who cross their path just as Oedipus once did. Oedipus was luckier than most. He solved the sphinx's riddle. Will you be so lucky when you find yourself in the path of this juggernaut?

Don't worry. You can do more and are more than you know. Set your goals and keep going. Don't stop moving forward. Don't stop learning because no matter what you know, or think you know, there is always more to learn and accomplish. You are in the driver's seat.

These three cards suggest a story. On one hand, there is a strong and confident man, sure of his abilities who is confident he can achieve whatever he chooses. He is adept and his skills are hard won, but he knows that there is nothing he tries that he cannot achieve, that is until he meets with a woman who is as strong and confident as he. She is his match in almost every way, but one. She doesn't want to settle down. She is a traveler, a seeker, a woman of power and privilege who intimidates most people, but not him. She is independence and spirited with a taste for adventure and conquest. He understands conquest because he has conquered himself and the elements. He is a scientist or doctor at the top of his profession. She is earthier and more basic, goal oriented, but easily distracted, and he finds that he wants to catch her attention. This is a mystery he is anxious to solve, if he can just get past her defenses and gain her attention long enough to get her focused on him so he can discover the secret she is determined to guard -- from him and from herself.

The thing about using tarot cards to help lay the groundwork for writing is that the cards provide the seeds and you determine how and where they grow. What these particular cards suggest to me this morning may not be what they will suggest tomorrow, next week or even next month. Each moment, each experience changes us and how we view the world around us. A casual conversation, a phrase or an idea can grow into so much more. When it happens to me I write it down, especially when I'm working on something else (I don't want to lose it), and sometimes I find a way to fit it into my current work in progress (WIP). Stretch your mind and the possibilities. Don't be afraid to step back or look away for a few minutes. There's now way to know what will change or how it will change if you're willing to stop and take a breath before continuing on your way.

For instance, Mary Ann and I were talking the other day and she mentioned that athletes inhabit their bodies differently than non-athletes. As I watched part of Brideshead Revisited last night a stray thought burrowed down and came up this morning into a new thought. It's not just athletes, but people from all walks of life that inhabit their bodies -- or skin -- in a palpably different way. You can tell the difference between someone who is comfortable with wealth and someone who recently became wealthy just as you can tell when a couple are close and when they're at odds. They don't have to say anything. It is in the way they move -- alone or together. Body language is more accurate than words most of the time. The trick for writers is to take body language and infuse it into their characters, help them inhabit their bodies more believably. Writers are magicians, but they can be adept or fumble their tricks. It's all all about practice and observation and knowing how to inhabit your body and how your characters inhabit theirs.

Until next week, what will the tarot cards reveal about your characters?

True life romances

The first time they saw each other, they were eleven years old. He wore horn rimmed glasses and a boy scout uniform and she wore a dress and pressed her sweaty palms together as she struggled for a smile. Out of the whole class, he was the only one she saw. She didn't know what he saw, but he looked at her; the whole class looked at her.

Over the next few months he gave shy signs that he liked her. He even talked to her while she was on safety patrol duty. He never said anything out loud or gave her a clear sign. He thought she was out of his league and she thought he didn't like here that much.

At the end of the year, they went to different junior high schools and spun into different orbits, until one day they met by accident and he talked about John Denver's songs. She was interested and he offered to bring over his albums. She agreed and he came over.

Focused on the music, he didn't notice she kept looking at his lips and wondering why she ever thought he couldn't kiss. That disastrous party a few years ago when he chose her while playing This and That and she described his kisses as a wet washrag were forgotten. Something about the way he smiled, one side of his lips quirked higher than the other, giving him a sweet, lopsided grin, convinced her that he knew how to kiss, but he didn't offer. She didn't offer either. She listened to the haunting strains of Rocky Mountain High and the evocative call of Take Me Home, Country Roads and wished that he would sing Annie's Song to her. He didn't offer. She didn't ask. And he went home.

High school was a blur of activities and whenever they met, they smiled and nodded, muttered a few pleasantries and spun into different orbits. She usually knew where he was, but was caught up in the trials and tribulations of raging hormones and high school social and academic politics. They spun into farther orbits when high school ended, she to marriage, children, divorce and work and he into another galaxy.

Little did they knew that their orbits spun closer together than they knew, like comets traveling similar vectors or binary stars without a clear line of sight. Time and tides brought them withing miles of each other time and again until the Universe, tired of waiting for the inevitable collision, pushed them closer.

Traversing distance, time and circumstance, he reached out and she responded, finally traveling an orbit that would lead to a closer orbit, and they orbited with joy, surprise, and unspoken passion that crackled in the air between them until a death brought them closer. It took over forty years, but they finally collided and the sparks flew.

People, unlike celestial bodies, have a mind of their own, and tend to change course when you least expect them. People don't realize the necessity, the inevitable and inescapable magnetic attraction of two souls in harmony. It frightens them and leads them to race to escape orbit. Some comets and stars are meant to collide, to share the same orbit, and so are some people.

This couple were meant to share the same orbit and eventually they did -- and do. Other forces pull them in opposite directions, but they keep coming back together, the attraction too strong to resist. That's the way it has always been and will always be. Some things -- and relationships -- are inevitable.

Back scratching

I'm still a little high from seeing and handling the copies of my novel. It's a heady feeling seeing my name on the cover of the book, reading the acknowledgments and the dedication and seeing the cute little airplane at the end of my bio on the last page. I always believed it was real; holding the book in my hands makes it even more real. It's a feeling I hope I never lose no matter how many of my books are published. It's better than drugs and almost better than sex. Sex while holding my book and reading from it might just be the best of both worlds. Now the real work begins.

I've always believed that a writer's work ended with the finished manuscript and once it was in the hands of the printer and publicist I could go on to the next project. I'm hopelessly old fashioned in that belief. This should have happened to me when I was in my twenties and early thirties because I was more amenable to public appearances and doing stints as a carny barker. I'm not so interested in the limelight, preferring my words to take center stage while I hang out in the wings. That's not the way it works nowadays because the world is upside down and inside-out.

The mere whisper of rumor that Stephen King, David Baldacci, Stephanie Meyer or J. K. Rowling has a new book out is enough to send fans to the bookstores to camp out and line up around down the street and around the block for miles the day before the release. Online book buyers order copies well in advance of release. There is no need for the publishers to throw tens of thousands of dollars at public relations firms and publicists to promote the books. The market is there and it's a strong market. That is not so for the up and coming or mid list writers. PR dollars for their books are in short supply, and no wonder since publishers offer six- and seven-figure advances at celebrities who seldom, if ever, make back their advances and the big PR dollars go to authors who've already made international names for themselves. Who would want to miss a new book by David Eddings or Christopher Moore or the latest Harry Potter adventure, sadly now finished? That's where the upside down and inside-out focus comes in.

If publishers spent their PR dollars wisely, they would realize that the big name writers who've been selling millions of books for a few decades aren't going to be around forever and when they are gone the mid list and up and coming authors are all publishers will have left. It's only good business to look to the future and that future is in the hands of mid list and new writers, so why not spend those megabuck PR funds on promoting the next generation of writers? Put a little power behind them and publishers would have a growing list of writers who soon will be on a level with best selling authors and be the fuel that keeps the publishing engine humming at a brisk pace. There is no sense promoting authors that need no promotion and denying promotion to authors whose work is good, but needs a bit of marketing. All that is left is for authors to give up their precious writing time to promote their books if they want publishers to continue to buy their writing.

That's what I'm facing right now. L & L Dreamspell is a small publisher, but a legitimate royalty paying publisher. They don't have the budget to put on splashy PR campaigns and it's up to the authors -- to me -- to promote my books and make money for the publisher and for me. I already have a day job, review books and do critiques in addition to my writing and I don't have time for promotion and yet I have no choice if I want my book to succeed. That means contacting reviewers, bookstores, book clubs and anywhere there could be a market to publicize and sell my novel. That takes time, time I don't really have to spare if I am to keep on top of my other obligations and continue writing and editing more books to be published. There are only so many hours in the day and I do have to sleep to continue to function at a level anywhere near normal. Getting older means I need less sleep, but some sleep is still required.

I spent a good part of last night and this morning contacting reviewers and bookstores and sending out releases, scheduling chats and interviews, and doing all the things a publicist should do so I can get back to the business of writing. Something has to give. It will probably be housework and laundry because I cannot shirk my other responsibilities and stay afloat. So, I turn to you for suggestions and to help me get the word out. For those of you who are writers, what goes around comes around.

Since the publishing community has put us on the back burner in favor of the big name, best selling authors, we have to band together and promote for each other. As you promote my books, I will promote yours. Get the word out. Send links, talk about the book, get people interested. Every little bit helps. I only wish I could follow Mark Twain's lead and put books in the hands of door-to-door salesmen working on commission who will crisscross the nation selling my novel. Unfortunately, most people have "no salesmen" signs on their doors or aren't even home and they're all tired of telemarketers, and we're back to helping each other. If a couple videotaping their creative and fun dance down the aisle at their wedding, it shouldn't be too difficult to get the word out that books are not just for geeks.

Past Imperfect is already for sale at Amazon (and it's been discounted) and will be available on Kindle within the next few days. It will also be available as an e-book to download from Fictionwise on Monday, August 3, 2009 and will be available through Barnes & Noblesome time in the next few days.

Reviews help, but the only real way to make a book successful is to get the news out to the public. We don't have big publishers or their megabucks for PR, but we can go viral one writer and one book at a time. It all adds up. In the meantime, while you're scratching my back, let me know where I need to scratch yours. As always, we're all in this together.

That is all. Disperse.

Broke but happy

Friends and family have called and emailed to tell me they got their copies of Past Imperfect. Seven minutes after Beanie called Mom called to ask where hers is. She didn't buy one yet, so she won't get it until she does, but I got mine. Actually, I got five copies of my novel and a t-shirt and a the cover and a brand new, freshly minted dollar bill in a frame (the glass was trashed) and a little bag of goodies and 50 posters and a big neat dark blue canvas bag and an advance check. Not a bad haul, but I'm a little bummed about the glass, especially since the box was marked FRAGILE and it looks like someone stomped on the box and destroyed the glass. I'll have to see if the USPS will buy new glass or if I will have to do it, but as soon as I do tomorrow, it goes on the wall. My first dollar earned from my first published novel -- and there's more to come.

You can get your copies of Past Imperfect at Amazon.com. Hurry while the supplies last.

That is all. Disperse.

Death didn't take a holiday

I finally managed to get some sleep last night and felt rested this morning -- until the phones started ringing and my email filled up. Yesterday, a lot of people emailed and called to tell me they bought Past Imperfect and today they called and emailed to tell me it was shipped. My phones are seldom this busy. Usually, when the phone rings I jump because it's so quiet here and more people email than call. I'm grateful everyone called to let me know. It feels great to be appreciated. Now all I have to do is worry about how fast I need to get out of town when they read the book. (just kidding)

Mom has torn a ligament in her knee and is now using a cane. It's either the cane, which she says makes her look old (she will be 79 in a few weeks) or surgery. Her orthopedist, who has known her for decades, many decades, told her if she doesn't stay off the leg, she has to have the surgery. She said she'd be good, but that won't last long. Right about now, she should be mowing the lawn and complaining that her leg hurts and the bruising is worse. Duh! She'll end up having surgery.

She managed to slip in some news about someone else for a change. My half-brother Timmy's wife was diagnosed with breast cancer in February. She had the surgery and the chemo and the cancer showed up in her lungs. Now she has cancer in her spine and cannot move her legs. Aunt Anne, Timmy's mother (and my biological mother), called to ask about a comfort box that hospice brought when they brought the hospital bed, wheelchair, bedside toilet, etc. Hospice told Timmy not to open the comfort box and to keep it in the refrigerator. They gave him instructions about not using it until things got really bad, to call them first, follow their directions and then call 911. Timmy doesn't know what it is and Aunt Anne had a feeling that I would know. She called to ask Mom to ask me.

I do know. The news isn't good. The word hospice alone was enough to tell me what's in the box, and I tried to explain it to Mom, but ended up calling Aunt Anne to tell her. Mom's not good at relaying information -- accurate or otherwise.

The comfort box contains medications, including a very large dose of morphine and a medication to ease the death rattles. Timmy's wife is terminal and the box is only dispensed to those families and caregivers of patients who are nearing end of life (no, not the battery kind of end of life or a pacemaker, the human end of life). Timmy doesn't know and if his wife knows she hasn't told me. Aunt Anne wanted to know how to break it to Timmy and I suggested she call his wife and find out if she knows and why she hasn't told Timmy. Timmy thinks that she's going to be all right because she's still getting radiation treatments for the one (now four) lesion(s) on her spine and that one leg will never function again, but that she will be all right. She's applied for disability and is lining up work to do at home. At least it will give her something to do for the next few weeks of her life. I doubt she'll live six months and now that hospice has been dispatched the likelihood is that she won't last the summer, if that.

Aunt Anne was very upset about having to tell Timmy. He's been married four times now and his comment when he found out about the cancer was that three of his wives divorced him; they didn't die. He was still joking, but when I hung up the phone, he had just arrived. I don't think he's laughing any more.

As I read the contents of a comfort pack to Aunt Anne, I heard her choke back the tears. It was only by strength of will I didn't cry. We have lost so many members of our family over the past two years and I think we should be done for a while. Evidently, there are more deaths to come. I'm sadder for those in my family who are dealing with this first-hand. I'm more sanguine about death. Yes, it hurts to lose someone I love and it's shocking to lose people I respect and care about, but I know my grief is for my loss and not theirs. They get to move on to the next life or rest or become one with the stars and the earth. They know what lies beyond this existence, so my sadness is short-lived. I miss them and it's hard to get out of the habit of writing or picking up the phone to call, but I don't feel the need to let it weigh me down.

That may sound cold and emotionless, but it's not. They don't have to clean any more toilets or kitchens, do dishes, juggle money and bills, or deal with the 1001 things that squeeze out the important things, like friendship, love, adventure, excitement, travel and learning. They know all the answers -- at least until they move into a new existence -- and they see how unimportant all the things the rest of us obsess about are. From the stars we came and to the stars we return. It's not such a bad deal.

Now, I'm going back to reading a review book and getting in the right frame of mind to critique my first manuscript. The dishes can wait and I already cleaned the toilet. I think a cold shower is in order, but then it's going to be an all reading and writing evening.

I want to thank all of you who called and emailed. With friends like you, the book can't fail and I never will because of you.

That is all. Disperse.

Grammar: Italicize me

The CEO and President of Authorlink emailed me today with a proposal, what she called a "possible small assignment." I was immediately intrigued. Authorlink receives a lot of manuscripts for critique, the first 60 pages, and she asked if I would be interested in doing the in-depth critiques and a line edit on the first 30 pages. What could I say? "No, thank you. I'm not interested." As Gram used to say, "I'm dumb, but I'm not stupid." I then squealed loudly, hitting the high registers and startling some people walking toward the door to visit the doctor in the building behind me. I hope their heart is all right.

I went over the sample that Elaine, my supervisor at Authorlink for the past six years, sent me and decided it was time to brush up on my grammar skills. Strunk and White, while quite thorough, doesn't go into much of the nuance of grammar that is now expected of me and I am frankly a bit rusty. I have several websites bookmarked and went to my favorite immediately. I browsed. I studied. I decided that there was something I had been doing incorrectly that I could share as a grammar goof.

Yes, I do make grammar goofs on occasion. It's all part of the rusty skills part.

I chose to focus on italics today for a couple of reasons: I am very busy with work and I have a pile of books I need to get through in between sleeping and working. Eating is not an option, except as a quick bite with bathroom breaks.

In preparing manuscripts for publication, I was taught that any words to be italicized should be underlined. That was before advent of word processing programs and email submissions. Many publishers, like mine, L&L Dreamspell, prefer words in italics to be italicized and not underlined, as they explained in the first editing pass of Past Imperfect. I thought I was doing it right, and I was, if you do things the old fashioned way, and I did. I read publishing guidelines carefully or check with publishers to find out what they prefer.

Italics are used in the titles of magazines, books, newspapers, academic journals, films, television shows, long poems, plays of three or more acts, operas, musical albums, works of art, websites, and individual trains, planes, or ships.

One of those really surprised me: websites. Oops.

The New Yorker

Boys in the Band by Matt Crowley

Adoration of the Magi by Bartolomé Estéban Murillo

Authorlink.com

Simply Irresistible

Foreign words are italicized.

"Dio mio! Maria held her hand to her heart. Tears left dark tracks in the flour dust on her cheeks when Angelo appeared in the doorway.


Words or phrases to be emphasized are italicized.

"Oh, you meant it that way."


When referring to a word, the word is italicized

The word critique means more than just criticize.

Okay, so I know most of these, but the rules change all the time. English is a fluid language and the rules often seem to be just as fluid. There are some rules that never change -- or at least they shouldn't.

1. Check submission guidelines carefully.



2. Thoroughly check your manuscripts before submission to make sure the guidelines are followed. Don't underline words to be italicized half the time and italicize them the rest of the time. Be consistent.



3. Don't rely on spell check because it will not catch grammar mistakes even with the grammar option checked.



4. Read your work out loud. Your ear will catch what your eyes miss. You could also join a critique group; fresh eyes, like readers' eyes, pick up what you or your editor might have missed.



5. Bookmark a good grammar site and refer to it when in doubt or just to refresh the fading memory. A site like The OWL at Purdue is a good site and very thorough.

We all make mistakes, and they don't have to be fatal, so when someone points out a mistake don't get angry. Thank them and make the changes. Ask questions if you're not sure why something should be done a certain way. Be generous when it's your turn to correct someone else's mistakes, especially if they're an old hand at the grammar game. No matter how much you learn or how much you think you know, the mind -- and the fingers -- will play tricks on you or simply fail you when you least expect.

Grammar, like life, is a learning process, and the best way to stay abreast of changes and brush off the rust is to keep rereading and checking good resources. Even they make mistakes, as I found out when preparing this post. Someone didn't know an artist's name in one of their examples was misspelled: Wassily Kandinsky. They forgot there are two Ns in Kandinsky.

Until next week, may all your grammar goofs be small ones and easily fixed.

Are we there yet?

No doubt, I'm going to get really boring over the next few weeks, months (dare I say years?) because my book is finally on the shelves. I also got word last night (late last night) that Barnes & Noble will carry an e-book version of Past Imperfect for sale. Good reason to get an e-book reader, especially since you get six free books with download of their FREE ereader software. I've asked whether or not my book will be available for Kindle, but no word yet, so that gives me one more reason to write about my book again. I know. I know. I'm going to become very boring very quickly, but, hey, if you can't bore friends and readers, what joy is there in life?

I checked the ranking and it's at 115,112, which is a huge surprise to me, but no doubt I'll end up in the millions in ranking soon enough. Now it's time for me to get back to designing postcards and writing before time for me to work.

That is all. Disperse.

A wandering stroll

Yesterday was my grandson Jordan's tenth birthday and he didn't get the gift I sent because it was sent to the billing address (mine) instead of to him. I called him today to explain the problem, but he was okay with his. AJ, his father, doesn't get paid until the end of the month and his birthday party isn't until Aug. 2nd. I should be able to get it to him by then.

And speaking of packages, I keep forgetting to mail Mary Ann's package. I should probably take all the books off it and from around it and put it in the car in the front seat so I don't forget when I go to the post office the next time.

Beanie is on vacation this week and has turned off her cell phone. I wanted to share some good news with her, right after I shared it with Mary Ann, but now she'll have to wait until she gets back.

This has been a day for good news. The contracts have been written, edited, amended and inked today so the Big Secret Project can finally go forward. You'd think after all these years that I would be used to the hurry up and wait world that is publishing, but sometimes it is just too much to expect, especially with a project this big. No, I can't mention any details, but I have no problems dangling bits of information to keep the interest going -- mine as well as yours. Suffice it to say that there is a movie (actually two movies) tie-in that will coincide with publication of the Big Secret Project and I was beginning to think it would never happen.

Going weeks without news has a dampening effect on me.

I was also offered a plum assignment to join the critique service at Authorlink where I have been a paid reviewer for six years. I was surprised by the offer and snapped it up immediately, which is what I shared with Mary Ann, and would've shared with Beanie if her phone was one and she available. From email to answer to squee took about 30 seconds. It's a good thing I work at home and live alone or I'd be spending the night, and many nights to come, in a blandly quilted room wearing a jacket with wrap around sleeves. Now that is a project I can talk about.

Here I am on the downside of the year with quite a few blessings I can count, in addition to the usual blessings of continued employed, roof over my head, food in the cupboards and plenty of books to read. Even my utility bills have come down even though I run the ceiling fan in the living room and the stand fan in the bedroom almost constantly. The summer so far has been cool with lots of rain in the afternoon to make sleeping at night pleasant and restful -- when I actually get into bed and sleep -- and I am not taking 3-4 cold showers a day just to be comfortable.

I feel a little guilty because some of my friends have had a rough year and for some the year just keeps getting rougher. I hesitate about posting my good news because of my friends' problems and I don't want to seem like I'm gloating in the face of their troubles. The good thing is that I have amazing friends who, in the midst of their misery or discomfort, are happy for me and glad to celebrate, which just makes me feel a little bit guiltier for feeling so good. It's not like I haven't had my troubles (let's not go there) and I am always glad to hear someone else's happy tales, like last Friday.

I had just found out I had to work over the weekend and wasn't able to go to the VE session at the Megafest in Monument, so I called Dennis, the VE Liaison for the PPRAA team, and gave him the bad news. I had already made sure there were plenty of VEs for the exam session and even worked out a split shift so the VEs wouldn't miss the whole hamfest, so there was no reason to panic and find someone to take my place.

Dennis took the news well, but I could tell he was reluctant to tell me his good news. He didn't want to smile in the face of my troubles. I urged him to tell me something good, "...so I know there's hope for better things ahead," I told him.

"All right," he said. I could tell he was still reluctant and would downplay the good news as much as possible.

Dennis has had some problems with depression and he was out of work for a long time -- Dennis is a Beta tester. I heard him rein in the smile and the joy as he told me his was feeling better and work was really good. That's the kind of news I wanted to hear, I needed to hear.

That's the thing about good news. It's infectious, spreading like a balm over the sore places in my life. As long as someone I know and care about is doing well, especially after a prolonged period of difficulty, then I'm happy for them. I refuse to wallow in the mire at the bottom of my own potholes on the road of life when there is a rising sun on the horizon or a bright star coming out from behind the clouds. It's a time to celebrate not dilute with feelings of envy and questions of "why isn't it going better for me?". Sometimes -- thankfully -- it's not about me and I need to get out of my head and get some distance from the troubles so I can look up at the horizon and see the sun or that brilliant star and smile and laugh and celebrate. After all, without the valleys, who would notice the hills -- or the glorious, majestic, awe-inspiring mountains?

And to continue rolling with more good news, Past Imperfect is available for sale on Amazon.com

Do you see now? It's cyclical: good news, followed by bad news, followed by good news. I hope the good news lasts for a while.

Tarot: Put it in reverse

One thing I've discovered about putting together a weekly column is that it can be fun. It also takes a lot of work, but delving into the mysteries of the tarot cards and the many stories they have to tell and the insights they give is also fascinating. With 78 cards, there are hundreds of combinations when choosing just three cards. Leave it up to chance and the nuanced stories and possibilities are endless.

Reverse me, but don't let me go.

When I pulled the cards for this column last weekend, I forgot which way the cards were facing and they all ended up reversed. At first, I decided to go with the cards as if they were upright. After I did my research, read the meanings and looked into the cards, I decided to go with the reversed reading of the meanings because it was interesting and because the shadow side of the human mind and psyche can be insightful. It's something to consider when putting together the background of a villain in a story and to give the hero a bit of an edge, let him dance with his shadow self. Perfect people are boring and there is no such thing as a perfect villain.

If you disagree, just look at Hannibal Lecter's character arc. In the beginning, Lecter was a monster, an highly intelligent, creative and sociopathic monster. His triggers were rudeness, over weaning arrogance where there was no superiority and inept playing of an instrument, to name a few. Lecter has his quirks, but he also has some redeeming qualities. He is polite and thoughtful, sensitive and attentive and he knows how to repay a favor -- or a slight. Over the course of the novels in which Lecter takes center stage, and especially in the novel about his origins, we see how a happy young boy born to privilege became a monster. It didn't happen overnight or by simple abuse or brutality. Hannibal Lecter, the thoughtful, intelligent and loving boy, died when his sister died and was eaten by the villains who kept him alive just in case winter's hold kept them penned without food or freedom. I wonder what Lecter's tarot cards would have revealed about his nature. No doubt a few reversed cards would come up.

The first card that came up for me was The Hierophant.




The priest in his miter and carrying his crook dressed in his religious finery almost merges with the stained glass window that frames him. The Hierophant is a wisdom rooted in formal, organized religion. He preserves a system of belief, holding in trust the teachings of his predecessors and handed down to acolytes in an unbroken chain through generations of believers. He is the final authority on faith, the bridge between this world and the next and often symbolizes a licensed teacher, professors, psychologist/psychiatrist or priest.

In the background beyond the prisms of glass that seem to form a gateway from this world to the heavens, is the universe, vast and unknowable, although men believe they groq the heavens and the mechanisms of life, death and birth. The Hierophant is the terrestrial plane, the arched, stained glass window the telestial plane and the heaven the celestial plane, the past, the present and the future all in one glowing card full of color and possibility.

The colors of the window symbolize the mind (blue) and life (green). The window is translucent, glowing with light from beyond it's flat planes, letting some light in as the earth allows varying degrees of the sun's light through to the moon, its reflective surface giving back only what it is given in bits and pieces, one side ever in darkness.

But the card was reversed. The opposite of a living and changing belief is dogma, repression, intolerance, servitude criticism, fear, guilt and being judgmental. As above, so below.




The Queen of Wands is confident and sure of herself as she protects the living fire of knowledge and her world. She is ready for action as she bars the way with her fiery wand. She is protective of the trust she has by divine right, but she is quietly contained, a coiled spring, a fount of creative fire seeking an outlet. The Queen of Wands is not the retiring type. She will help someone with a new project or share her knowledge, but it comes with a price -- obedience, admiration, public acclaim. She is charismatic, a notorious flirt one minute who lives on the edge, her temper on a taut hair trigger. The fire she holds in her hand is the sign of Aries which makes her a natural leader, but beware the storm clouds on the horizon. The Queen of Wands is determined to have her way, even if a temper tantrum is the only way.

Like all the queens, water is her element and fire her charge. Fire combined with water has two properties, providing steam to drive the engine of success and creation. Too much water can also put out the fire.

In the reverse, the Queen of Wands can be generous, willful, a drama queen, enthusiastic, fierce, domineering, jealous, deceitful, potentially unfaithful and disorganized when the fire burns too hot and is not contained or guided. What else would one expect from a flame-haired wench like the Queen of Wands?



At first glance, the Three of Swords is easy to read. The heart is pierced by three swords, the sky full of dark clouds. Someone's heart is broken, probably whoever tangled with the Queen of Wands on a bad day. In the center of the heart is the sun. None of the swords pierce the sun or alter its light, so there is hope for anyone willing to get past the pain and refuse to let their ego get in the way, making the emotional distress greater than it is. After all, there could be more than three swords in the heart. There's always room for more pain -- and more hope.

Swords have a way of cutting to the heart of a matter. Looking at the situation from only one perspective is flawed. In order to understand, the proper perspective is needed to find clarity.

The Three of Swords could be a sign that a relationship is ended, but it's not the end of life as long as you seek a realistic perspective, come at the situation from more than one angle. It's easy to wallow in loss and mourn a broken heart by carrying a torch. To do so is to stagnate and avoid living. The heart is still beating in spite of the swords cutting through it. As long as the heart beats, life is worth living. The heart is still capable of love and life is still worth living without the one who made your heart beat faster.

Divorce, grief and sorrow are the first emotions felt when looking at the Three of Swords. It's almost overwhelming as memories of sorrow, sadness, grief, loss, infidelity, depression and divorce flit through the mind, but this card was reversed and so its meaning is one of hope, healing, and recovery. What seems to be the worst possible moment can be a blessing in disguise.

Imagine what these cards say about the villain in your story. You have a lot to work with here. All the taboos are accounted for: religion, politics and sex. No doubt your villain will be as interesting as Hannibal Lecter, and maybe even more diabolical. Keep in mind that even villains have hearts that can be hard as adamantium or soft enough to feel the pain of a sword's thrust.

The most interesting -- and often the most chilling villains -- aren't obviously insane or evil. It is that sense of how similar they are to the people around them that renders them more terrifying. They are chameleons, able to charm and murder with the same affable ease that charms the people around them. A villain can be your best friend, the helpful neighbor down the street or someone you look up to and trust. It is their seeming normality that takes you by surprise. A villain can be anyone given the right -- or wrong -- circumstances.


What hides behind your villain's smile and helpful generosity?

Trying times

I just finished a horror novel where the main character had been unemployed for a year. His wife Had quit her job as a school guidance counselor to take care of their daughter who exhibited some strange behaviors (dreams, nightmares, night terrors, obsessive-compulsive tendencies and eerie predictions). Nate Kenyon, the author, wrote about the strain on the couple's marriage as if he knows first-hand or has experienced it through his friends, and it reminded me of the 18 months of unemployment I went through from 2003-2005. Being unemployed is difficult enough for someone who is single like me, but when there is a family involved the strain is compounded.

A month or two or even three is difficult, but not for someone who has enough money saved to keep things together, as long as there is the possibility of a job on the near horizon. How many families actually have three months' salary saved? A year's salary would be better. Even with a year's salary safely in the bank and being slowly eaten away as the weeks and months drag on, budget cuts are inevitable. How do you justify a vacation or even a camping trip, repairs to the car, replacement of essential household appliances, clothing and luxuries like camp for the kids and extra curricular activities for children still in school, let alone outlays to the movies, restaurants and shopping trips when no job is in sight?

The constant strain of scaling back a comfortable lifestyle to accommodate dwindling savings affects everyone, but not equally. For a man who defines himself by his job, the inevitable rounds of resumes, interviews, questions and turn-downs are disheartening and emasculating. For his wife, especially if she doesn't work, the act of juggling coupons and budgeting and answering questions about why vacations and movies and eating out are canceled and allowances must be cut back can be difficult, even with dad explaining the financial facts of life. However, if the wife has a part time job that provided little more than pin money and has no plans to re-enter the work force, things can get ugly fast. How ugly depends on whether the spouse is supportive or someone who sees the breadwinner's loss of income as a problem to be worked through together or a personal affront. Marriages where the the nonworking spouse blames the recently unemployed spouse don't last very long. All the cracks and fissures in the relationship begin to show and get bigger the longer the blame game is played.

When an accustomed lifestyle disappears suddenly or is slowly eroded over time, tempers and emotions flare, adding more pressure to an already pressured situation. It is hard to be supportive, especially when one partner feels the other partner is to blame for the situation. It never occurs to the supported spouse that getting a job is an option. Why should they when the situation is not their fault? The longer this inequity of feelings and circumstances continues, the likelier the marriage will founder on the rocks and fail.

With the nation's unemployment rate climbing quickly into double digits, the outlook isn't good. Some couples will choose to stay together and the spouse who has been under employed or unemployed will get a job. If this is a woman, the chances are good that she will find work fairly quickly. If this is a man over 40, he may be unemployed for a while. Whatever the circumstances, the outlook is dependent on whether or not the couple is willing to pull together and stop playing the blame game or takes the money and runs. Either way, the under employed or unemployed spouse will have to find a job unless a rich prospect comes into view or the assets, when split, are substantial enough, with the inclusion of child support, to keep them in the style to which they have become accustomed.

The couple in Nate Kenyon's book weather the storms and the rocks for a year before the situation change, and not for the better -- it is a horror book after all -- in the short term. Staying together required sacrifices both people were willing to make. Unfortunately, in the real world, most people, especially selfish people who delight in finding everyone around them at fault, aren't fans of sacrifice. Their spouse's unemployment is a personal affront that has ruined their life and they expect it to be fixed right now without making the effort to cut back on their expectations or quit their pin money job and get a job that pays a living wage. Like too many rats in a confined space, cannibalism quickly ensues.

It was hard enough to get through the last six months of my unemployment, living on the $80 a month, and often less. The life I had built slowly crumbled and everything I had worked for slipped away. I nearly gave up and gave in on several occasions, but I didn't have anyone else -- other than my landlord -- depending on me. Living in a rural community in the back of beyond, didn't afford many opportunities, but I kept looking and eventually landed a job, a job I still do 4-1/2 years later. My life is better now, but I had then, and still have, only myself to support. I can live on very little, as I can attest. I shudder to think that it would have been like with a family, but one thing I do know is that by myself or with a spouse and child(ren), we would have made it because we were willing to work together and make whatever sacrifices we must.

In the end, unemployment, recessions, depressions and inflation come and go. As long as there is hope and a belief in yourself and your partner, no matter how bad it gets and how much must be sacrificed, life will go happily, if somewhat diminished, onward.

To quote and paraphrase Thomas Paine, "These are the times that try men's [and women's] souls." The summer husband and sunshine wife will, in these difficult times, shrink from these trials; but s/he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of their partner. "What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly: it is dearness only that gives every thing its value. Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods; and it would be strange indeed if so celestial an article as [EMOTIONAL SUPPORT] should not be highly rated." Tireless support and willing sacrifice are the riches upon which an enduring relationship are founded. If you do not find it now, it was never there; you have built your house on shifting sands and the tide has finally come in. When it is found, nurture and cherish it, for it is the solid foundation upon which a bright and happy future is built.

The greatest show on earth

Yesterday, Mike in Israel sent me a notice about the total solar eclipse on Wednesday, July 22. It will be the longest eclipse this century, lasting 6 mins and 39 secs and it is one of three eclipses that have happened in consecutive years. In the article he sent me, Mark Blitz was quoted as saying, "...three solar eclipses that would occur on each of three annual calendar dates that introduce the Jewish month of Av for the years 2008, 2009, and 2010. The first eclipse occurred on August 1, 2008. The second solar eclipse is coming up this month — on July 22, 2009, and the third will happen on July 11, 2010. Though these dates vary in our Gregorian calendar, they occur on the same calendar date in the Jewish calendar — Av 1."

(Mary Ann, that's where I got July 11, from next year.)

The Jewish calendar is 28 days long and results in a 13-month year instead of the Gregorian 12-month year, which is why it is possible for the Jewish month of Av to be in July or August.

Although Blitz said that the totality of the eclipse would last 6.6 minutes, the NASA site calculates the totality to be 6 minutes 39 seconds. I'd go with the NASA numbers on that one.

The Jews regard this trinity of eclipses on the same day in their calendar as a omen, perhaps a harbinger of the End of Days. Eclipses were seen in ancient times as a portent of evil, although an eclipse during the 6-year war between the Medes and Lydians in the midst of hostilities was enough to end the war in 585 BC on May 28. The passage of the eclipse was greeted with an immediate end to hostilities and resulted in a peace treaty and a double wedding. According to Wikipedia, "The war is thought to have started because of clashing interests in Anatolia (Turkey); Herodotus (Histories, 1.73-74) claims, however, that some Scythian hunters employed by the Medes who once returned empty-handed were insulted by Cyaxares. In revenge the hunters slaughtered one of his sons and served him to the Medes. The hunters then fled to Sardis, the capital of the Lydians. When Cyaxares asked for the Scythians to be returned to him, Alyattes refused to hand them over; in response, the Medes invaded."

The Medes were an ancient Persian (modern day Iranian) people and the Scythians were a nomadic people, also Iranian, who were reported to have been beaten by the Amazons. The Lydians were Turks. Looks like there has always been war and rumors of war between the Iranians and the Turks. Too bad there are no longer any ruling families with sons and daughters to marry off and bring about peace. I wonder how the Iranians would feel about marrying off one of Ahmadinejad's children to one of Benjamin Netanyahu's children to seal a peace treaty between Iran and Israel. Probably the way someone would feel about being forced to marry the offspring of, say, Charles Manson, but that's a topic for another time.

The deaths of empresses and kings was thought to cause solar eclipses as the sun mourned for their passage and it caused the death of Emperor Louis of Bavaria, Charlemagne's son, when he was overcome by fear at the disappearance of the sun. Evidently, Louis wasn't as formidable as his father or as strong. He must have been the product of the shallow end of the gene pool.

Christopher Columbus used a lunar eclipse to his advantage to frighten the natives into providing him with food when he scheduled a meeting with the chief for the start of the eclipse and convinced the chief that the gods were angry at his refusal by blotting out the moon's light. A little knowledge is useful in situations like that, as Mark Twain amply proved when one of his characters used a solar eclipse to his benefit in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.

In 1560, the announcement of an impending eclipse caused rioting in the streets when nearly the entire population of Paris clogged the streets to go to confession to be ready for the end of the world, so a parish priest announced that the eclipse was to be postponed for two weeks in order for the people to get right with god. I imagine one or two people died of fright waiting in line for confession when the eclipse happened ahead of schedule.

This site details a bit of the mayhem and furor over eclipses, even mentioning the eclipse that Carly Simon mentioned in her pop hit, You're So Vain, about Wayne Newton. The site does not mention the eclipse that helped Dolores Claiborn end the life of her incestuous pedophile husband, though. I would have thought that would have deserved a mention.

An eclipse figured prominently in Homer's Odyssey, occurring on the day Penelope's suitors began last meal and Odysseus returned. Scientists have figured the date to be April 16, 1178 BC, about 12 years before the accepted date of the sack of Troy, which means that historians need to refigure their data since it took Odysseus 20 years to return to Ithaca after he left for the Trojan War in Menelaus's fleet of a thousand ships. It's rather difficult to return home before you've left.

On July 11, 1991, a partial eclipse was visible from Ohio. I stood out in the front yard that day to watch it. What amazed me the most was how the shadows fell on the leaves during the eclipse. Only as much sun as was visible, a fingernail crescent, showed up on the leaves at my feet, a tiny sliver of golden light in the gloom. I was fascinated, but then I am not among the ancients who fear the sun being blotted out temporarily by the passage of the moon between the Earth and the sun nor am I superstitious enough to fall dead of fright because a dragon has devoured the sun. At least the dragon spit it back out again.

According to the soothsayers at Astrology.com, "The central path begins in India's Gulf of Khambhat, formerly known as Cambay, an inlet of the Arabian Sea, at 00:53 UT. Interestingly, this is where in 2002 archaeologists discovered the site of a sunken city with artifacts carbon-dated to more than 9000 years ago, showing that civilisation existed not long after the end of the last Ice Age. Racing inland, the shadow sweeps over the Indian cities of Surat, Indore, Bhopal, Varanasi, and Pata. Travelling across Bhutan, the umbra clips Nepal, Bangladesh, and Burma (Myanmar), before reaching China at 01:05 UT, then working its way across the rest of southern China where the major cities of Chengdu, Chongqing, Wuhan and Hangzhou stand in its path. As the Moon's shadow reaches the coast, China's largest city, Shanghai, with over 19 million people, experiences a total eclipse lasting 5 minutes at 01:39 UT. Across the East China Sea, the umbra sweeps over Japan's Ryukyu Islands and Iwo Jima, but the greatest eclipse (6 minutes 39 seconds) occurs in the South Pacific at 02:35:19 UT. It then arcs southeast through the Pacific hitting small atolls in the Marshall Islands and Kiribati (Gilbert Islands). The path of totality ends at 04:18 UT as the lunar shadow leaves Earth 3.4 hours after it started its trek across our planet's surface. The 15,200 km long track covers 0.71% of Earth's surface. A partial eclipse is seen from a much larger area covering East Asia, Indonesia, and the South Pacific."

Whatever your take on the more esoteric meaning of the eclipse, one thing is certain, it's the greatest show on earth.