Begin Something Great - continued Here’s another. “I don’t have the time to ___________.” No? But you have the time to watch Dr. Phil and Oprah. In a quarter of the time it takes to watch two TV shows—one half hour a day, you could start a book, take a walk, listen to a language tape. “I don’t have the money.” That’s a big one. To write a book? That takes a computer, and you have access to one of those free at any public library. To do martial arts? You can buy a used DVD off Ebay for a buck if that’s what you can afford. To do archaeology? No, you say, that’s impossible. Nope! In the USA, every state has an official archaeologist, and they take volunteers. There’s a great use of a few days of vacation time! What’s the real reason you don’t fill in that blank? Psychologists and motivational speakers agree—fear of failure. It’s not the time, the money, the lack of training—it’s fear. Here’s the formula for getting past that—WCS. Worst Case Scenario. If you failed, would you be imprisoned? Would you lose custody of your children? Would it mean you’re a bad person? Would you contract a major disease by receiving a rejection letter? Of course not. You could try again, or you could decide it’s not for you, and try the next thing on that wonderful list of yours. Would you rather say “I did that once!” or “I regret I never tried that.” Turn WCS into What Could Start! Okay, off to look at my own list. http://www.ciarcullen.com / http://ciarcullen.blogspot.com Join my yahoo group for a chance at a gift certificate! Coming Sept. 7 from Samhain Publishing: Unholy Vows Coming soon: Key West Magic, Mayan Secrets Living the Gypsy Lifestyle - continued Because it’s fun. Because I don’t just want to see new places. I want to experience them in the only way you can really know places. By living there. I got the travel bug from my father. He was always taking off to exotic places for work and tales of his travels inspired my imagination. From a young age, I knew I’d want to travel to and live in strange and unusual places. I was the only person in my American History class in high school who actually raised their hand when asked if they’d want to live anywhere besides the U.S. (I said I’d love to live in Australia.) I started moving as soon as I could. First stop, Hawaii for college. Talk about culture shock. I had to learn a whole new way of being—I had to dump my Vegas cynicism and learn to walk instead of drive everywhere. I was always pretty mellow, but I learned how to take life easy in Hawaii. Not that I didn’t study, but I studied on the beach. And I took time in between my studies to learn to scuba dive and kayak. I was forced to learn how to use chopsticks or face teasing from my friends. And for the first time in my life, I was the minority—I was a tall, blond haole woman in a sea of short dark-haired people of Asian or Pacific Islander decent. And after four years of living in paradise, a place most people would sell their kidney to live, I decided I’d had enough. I wanted seasons, I wanted to wear sweaters occasionally. I needed something new. I cried when I left Hawaii. I’d made friends I adored and it was a hard thing to leave them behind. Every time I’ve been back since, I think I could live there again. But I know I couldn’t do it for long. When I left, it was time to go. I went back to Vegas for a while, but obviously that wasn’t destined to last long. After a year and a half, I moved to Germany with my folks. There, I experienced a whole new kind of culture shock. The kind that involved no one speaking my language (at least not natively). The kind where people didn’t smile when they said hello to their neighbors—this was apparently a peculiarity of living in Stuttgart. I had to learn how to say grüß gott (a greeting particular to Stuttgart) without smiling. Then I had to learn how to blend in. Trains and public transport were a new experience—I grew up in Vegas! We didn’t do trains. I experienced new foods and some of the best beer I’ve ever had. And I traveled. I traveled all over the continent. I adored Italy. The Italians are a lot more expressive and open than the Germans. And I shouldn’t even have to mention how superior Italian food and wine is. My first trip to Italy, we ate in a restaurant were there was nothing we recognized as “typical” Italian food—no lasagna, no spaghetti as a main course, and pizza was…well, it was superb but not what you get in the U.S.! You have to cut your pizza with a knife and fork to eat it. For the first few months, everyone knew we were Americans. But I knew I was starting to blend into European culture when I was standing at the Louvre in Paris, waiting on my mom, and a little girl came up to me and ask me something in rabid-fire French. I had to explain, in French, that I didn’t speak French—one of the few phrases I’d mastered—and I got this funny look from her. Then, in only mildly accented English (because at that point my accent had given me away), she asked me where the bathroom was. Needless to say, I was shamed by my lack of language skills. But I was able to direct her to the bathroom. Then on a fortuitous trip to Ireland, I found another place I wanted to live. I loved Germany with its winter fairs, sparkling clean trains, mist shroud castles on top of green hills, and excellent beer. But I wanted to get my post-graduate degree, and I found an excellent program for that in Dublin. Even if the program hadn’t been perfect, though, I still would have used it as an excuse to move to Ireland. I LOVED the country when I visited—they spoke a form of English I could almost understand, they had excellent food (especially compared to English food which I’d been eating on my way to Ireland), they had excellent beer, the people were lovely, and the bookstores had books in a language I could read. What more could a girl want? I loved so many things about living in Ireland, I actually stayed there longer than anywhere else I’ve ever lived except for Vegas (and I didn’t have any choice about that). I made brilliant friends, and I met the man I’m now married to. I even picked up the barest of accents that still comes out when I’m talking to a group of Irish people. And then my husband brought up moving to the U.S.—for fun, for an adventure. We took a trip to New York City for a writers’ conference, I fell in love with the city, and nine months later we were living in New York. I was heartbroken leaving behind all my friends—though thanks to email, keeping in touch with people is a LOT easier these days. But I was looking forward to the new adventure. So far, we’re thoroughly enjoying NY. We’ve had the chance to travel all around the U.S. and managed to hit several spots in South and Central America. We’ve even traveled back over the pond to Europe to visit new cities. (I was fortunate to marry a man who likes to travel as much as I do.) But for all our love of our current home, it’s never crossed our minds that we’ll stay here forever. We don’t know where we’ll move next… We both like Buenos Aires, anywhere in Italy, and I fancy the idea of living around Seattle for awhile. But we have no plans. One of these days, the bug will bite, and we’ll decide it’s time to move again. Some people wonder at this constant moving—leaving friends, security, routine, stability. And it’s not easy starting over in a new place every few years. Especially when I keep picking such different places to live. There are ups and downs, fears and panics, lonely times and homesickness (for wherever I’ve lived last). I have to make all new friends while still trying to keep up with my old friends; I have to get used to a whole new set of “rules.” But I never regret the moves. And I’ve never thought I should stay put. The idea of staying in one place for the rest of my life just feels…weird. So starting over, in a new place, making new friends, experiencing a new way to live, immersing myself in the adventure of a new home or country, is always worth the risk for me. All this travel and movement informs my fiction, too. The experiences, the new people, the sights and sounds of different cultures, have opened my mind to new ways of thinking. I bring all of this to my writing. Personally, I couldn’t have imagined some of the things I’ve written about if not for the experience of living in and visiting different cultures. I need my gypsy-like lifestyle to help inspire the worlds I build. A new beginning every few years adds to the mixing pot of my creative conscious. And while I’m getting that inspiration, I get to live a great adventure. Isabo Kelly is a multi-published author of science fiction and fantasy romances. At thirty-five, I was content but not happy. Dangit, I was hungry to do more, to begin again. So I took my oft-touched romance novel and tore at it like a dog with a bone. I paid for a critique (best 80 bucks I ever spent) and it was finally contracted in July 2004. And holy hell, that’s when the second half of my life really kicked off. I had achieved something I only dreamed of for so long, it seemed almost unreal. Although my first year of publication, or rather the first year and a half, did not bring the boatloads of money I expected. In fact, I was most assuredly in the red. So what did I do then? I buckled down and looked elsewhere to further my writing career and I found Samhain. I still remember the first e-mail response from Crissy and my amazing editor Sasha. It was truly a life-changing moment – a great beginning. It was as if my life didn’t have a path for the first thirty years, as if I drifted through everything without ever taking the reins (knew I had to get a cowboy reference in there, didn’t ya?). Now I feel as if I not only hold the reins, but I’m handling a team of eight flying across the landscape of my life with the wind in my hair and a smile on my face. What do I see for the next forty years of my life? Hopefully a lot of books, an opportunity to quit my well-paying job and become a novelist full time, and sit in my sunny kitchen nook each morning with my coffee and my laptop. When I look back at all the changes in my life in the last ten years, I’m astounded by just how different everything is. Who knew I’d have sixteen e-books, or five books in book stores or that I’d have readers writing me telling me my books made them cry? I think one of the best things about where I am now is knowing that what I love to do is touching people’s lives. Can you imagine getting an e-mail from someone telling me I’ve reignited their passion for western romances? Just thinking about it makes me get misty, truly. For my 40th birthday I’m headed to Las Vegas to spend the weekend with my DH sans kidlets. I’m going to celebrate my birthday and everything that my life has brought me so far, then look forward to the second half of my life. Yeah, baby, life is just getting started again. Beth Williamson is the author more than fifteen novels and novellas. Her current release with Samhain is The Legacy, book 7 of the Malloy family series and Marielle’s Marshal, a short story in the Midsummer Night’s Steam series. Look for a new series to kick off September 25 with Devils on Horseback: Nate, a fast-paced western romance that will have you on the edge of your seat. Beth lives just outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in New York, she holds a B.F.A. in writing from New York University. She spends her days as a technical writer, and her nights immersed in writing hot romances for her readers. You can find her online at http://www.bethwilliamson.com/ or on her blog at http://myblog.bethwilliamson.com/. In an ideal
world, an editor would give your book the time and attention
that you, the author, put into it. Wouldn't you love to know that an editor
is going to curl up, undisturbed, in an armchair with a cup of cocoa and
your enthralling manuscript? Not only will they love every word, but also
they will buy it immediately and with no revisions necessary.
Hmm, he thought. We're going to crash.
So what do these hooks have in common? J.C. Wilder is the award-winning author of the Shadow Dwellers, Men of SWAT and the Coven Series. Her goal is to teach English in Japan. Since I'd like to go with her someday, when she began learning the language it only followed that I should, too. She's also a culinary whiz and was accepted into the Le Cordon Bleu program at one of the swankiest private colleges in the country. So, put her love of Japan and her love of the culinary arts together...and you get a chef who enjoys making Japanese food. For you, if you're just beginning to cook, or if you enjoy Japanese food and would like to explore the making of it, we'll begin with something just for you: A recipe for homemade Teriyaki sauce. Oh, did I forget to mention that my kid is real high fallutin' when it comes to her cooking and God forbid if she should EVER serve Teriyaki sauce from the bottle! Aacckk!! Speaking of great beginnings, did I mention this Japan-nut is also working with me on a cool collaboration? So she'll be a Japanese speaking, high fallutin', good cooking, cool book writing author! Cookin' With Grey Sinclaire: TJ: Okay, Grey, give me the low down on why you just have to make your own Teriyaki sauce. Grey: Hmmm. I guess it’s because I like fresh food, and you can customize the sauce to whatever your tastes are at the moment. You can make it citrus-tasting, add some extra spice. You can make it more savory by adding garlic, and such. But only if you make it from scratch. TJ: Makes sense. But is it hard to always have to make your own sauce when you cook as much as you do? I mean, you cook all the time at our house. I don’t think I’ve made a full meal for the family in, what, two years? Grey: No *then she looks at TJ like she should have known the answer to this stupid question in the first place* TJ: Well, fine then. Next question. What is it that fascinates you about Japan? Grey: Japan has a very vibrant culture, very family oriented, and their whole way of living seems fun. TJ: And the food? Grey: It’s crisp, light, and very healthy. You can always find something you’re interested in, whether its noodles, salad or hearty soups. Or really, really, REALLY good desserts. It’s not all sushi all the time. And the food kinda makes you feel homey. TJ: Now tell us how to make this Teriyaki sauce. It’s easy and quick, right? Grey: Yep. You can make it in as little as five minutes. I pretty much eyeball my way through this recipe that I made for myself. For beginners, it should be pretty simple. Then when you get the hang of it you can mess around with the flavoring and spiciness. Just remember this is a sugar-based sauce and you should treat it like syrup or caramel when cooking. TJ: Do tell. Grey: Now these are just estimates but you need the following: ¼ cup of oil 2/3 cup of sugar ½ cup soy sauce 2” piece of grated fresh ginger 2 tablespoons of granulated garlic (or two cloves, minced) 1 teaspoon black pepper 1 teaspoon of mirin (optional) That’s all you need. Combine oil and sugar in a saucepan on medium-high heat. When it starts to caramelize or bubble around the edges, add the garlic and ginger and stir it well. Slowly add the soy sauce, because if you add it too quickly it won’t thicken properly. Let it bubble, but it should not boil. If it starts foaming, then you’ll have to add more sugar to get it to thicken. For example, the consistency should be as thick as Hershey’s chocolate syrup BEFORE you put it in the milk. Add the pepper and mirin, reduce the heat so it simmers for a few minutes until it’s completely smooth. You can use it right away, it doesn’t have to sit. It’ll keep in the fridge for up to eight weeks. TJ: Thanks, darlin’. I hope your coming books are just as spicy ‘n sweet. T.J. Michaels is a multi-published author of paranormal erotic romances.
Kendall laughed. “That’s because you don’t have a Hollywood ass, Laney dear. Our underappreciated posteriors get to stand here in this lovely back hallway until all the famous, multimillion dollar celebrity asses find their seats. Then all of us”—she gestured to the couple hundred seatfilling hopefuls dressed to the nines in designer knockoffs—“get to start the musical chairs game.” “What does the winner get?” Delaney mused. Kendall opened her mouth to answer when a harried-looking woman holding a clipboard stormed through the crowd, looked Kendall up and down, nodded and said, “You. Come with me,” then continued down her path, clearly expecting Kendall to follow without question. Eyes wide, the friends looked at each other. “See you inside,” Delaney offered. “I hope.” With a shrug, Kendall darted after the frazzled lady as fast as her four-inch stiletto boots would allow. Laney didn’t have much time to wonder what was to happen to her friend. Within a couple minutes of Kendall’s departure, a man dressed in a tux, also carrying a clipboard, shouted from the front of the line, “Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go! Ten minutes to show time and we have seats to fill, people. Move it!” Feeling strangely like a sheep, Delaney followed the herd into the brightly lit pavilion. Was that Julia Roberts talking to Harrison Ford? She couldn’t tell for sure through the chaos of celebrities and seatfillers all clamoring for seats. “You, purple-sequin girl. This way,” a radio-wearing woman called and gestured for Delaney to shuttle down the first of the three main aisles. “Sit here.” And then the woman was off and running, grabbing another seatfiller and shoving her toward an empty chair. Fifth row back, second seat in. Not bad. She had a good view of the stage. Who knew how long she’d be here though. When she and Kendall had first arrived, they’d been given the spiel from the woman at check-in. Their job was to fill an empty seat. Simple. When the person the seat belonged to returned, the seatfiller had to discreetly abandon the seat and search for another available one. All this was supposed to occur during commercial breaks, but if the ticket holder showed up a mere ten seconds before the break ended, the seatfiller had to haul ass, either out of the pavilion, or if lucky, another empty chair—all before the cameras went live. Another seatfiller plopped into the open aisle seat to the left of her. Laney gave the newcomer a smile then, stomach a mass of nervous and excited butterflies, studied her surroundings. Yup, there was Julia and Harrison, deep in conversation several rows away. Tobey Maguire walked by, shook hands with Orlando Bloom and continued toward his seat. Laney tried to keep her eyes from bugging out of her head. This was too cool. It made the waxing, plucking and uncomfortable underwire push-up bra so worth it. And to think, this was only the start of awards season. She’d be in celeb-watching heaven for the next several months. As she scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kendall, the girl next to her shrieked, “Ohmigod, that’s Jaden Kingsley!” and began bouncing up and down in her seat. Jaden Kingsley? Laney gave herself whiplash looking in the direction the girl had gestured, but didn’t see him in the crowd. Jaden had disappeared from the limelight a few years ago when the band he’d fronted had broken up. Why would he be here? Now? And if he was, he better get his ass where Laney could see him because she’d give up chocolate and sex (not that she’d been getting any lately) for the next year to see that man up-close-and-sexy-personal. “I don’t see him,” said another woman sitting behind shrieking girl. “And besides, why would he be here? He’s so five years ago.” No. That lady was insane. A man as sexy as Jaden never went out of style. “No, it was him,” said shrieking girl. “He’s got a solo album coming out in a few months, and one of his songs is on the soundtrack for—” She broke off with a squeal, sounding a bit like a whinnying horse. “IiiEeeeee, Jaden, Jaden, I love you!” The eyes of half the crowd nearby turned their way as the girl continued her fits and squeals. Okay, this was so not fair. Why could freaky fan girl see Jaden, and Laney couldn’t? And why hadn’t she heard about Jaden’s solo album sooner? And really, was this girl trying to get her ass booted out of the show? Rule number one: don’t harass the celebrities. Laney leaned as far away from crazy girl as possible without leaving her seat, hoping no one would think they’d come to this thing together. And that’s when she saw him. Jaden so-friggin’-hot-he’s-nuclear Kingsley. Sitting ten chairs away. Looking right at her. Those sensual chocolate brown eyes that had wooed millions of women while he sang his low, throaty love songs were watching her. Don’t be ridiculous, Laney. This room is full of people. Just because he’s gazing in your general direction does not mean he’s looking at you. Yeah, well, she argued with herself, it doesn’t mean he’s not looking at me either. Laney forced her lips into a smile—at least she hoped it was a smile, she’d lost control of basic body function the moment she saw Jaden’s eyes. Her lips must have been cooperating because he smiled in return. Oh my God, he’s really looking at me. Me! Laney Squires. Freaky fan girl took that moment to scream something unintelligible, the only understood words “Jaden” “marry me” “children”. Ears aching from the girl’s high-pitched howlings, Laney flinched. Jaden turned away. With one last look at the back of Jaden’s sexy neck—how could a neck be sexy? But, yeah, it was—Laney settled back into her seat as an announcer counted down the last few seconds until the cameras would roll. As the show began, Laney only half listened as Adam Sandler got up and gave his opening monologue. The crowd laughed uproariously as Adam verbally sparred with Cooper Tynesdale—who was apparently somewhere on the other side of the pavilion. Laney couldn’t actually see him from where she was seated. Kendall was probably dancing in her seat that Cooper was here—she’d had a crush on the man since junior high—and if Laney knew her best friend, she was trying to figure a way to get a seat close to the man so she could accidentally brush up against him during a commercial break. As the first award was handed out, Laney replayed the quick moment of shared looks and smiles with Jaden. It had been totally worth giving up sex and chocolate for. Except… If she was going to give up sex and chocolate for an entire year, shouldn’t she get to steal a few more glances at him? That would make it a fairer tradeoff, right? Totally proud of her reasoning, Laney ever-so-casually leaned forward in her seat. Oh my… Her heart fluttered as she studied his handsome profile. He was wearing a long-sleeved, dark burgundy button-down shirt untucked over black slacks. His dark brown hair brushed the collar of his shirt. He began clapping as the award winner for best makeup was announced. Laney joined in, throwing a quick glance forward to watch as the woman accepted her award. As the winner stepped from the stage, Laney shifted focus back to Jaden. This time, he was leaning forward, his forearms on his knees, his head tilted her way. Holy hell, he was looking at her again! He grinned and winked, and Laney panicked. Why was he looking at her? Had her boob fallen out of her dress? Was her hair sticking straight up? No. And no. Then why? Vaguely, Laney realized that it must be a commercial break because people were crowding the aisles, seatfillers on the prowl for a piece of celeb property, while celebs mingled or were directed backstage for their part of the show. However, Laney’s ass remained planted on the edge of her seat, her gaze locked on Jaden’s bedroom eyes. He mouthed the word, “Hey.” She mouthed a “hi” back. Then freaky fan girl interrupted their scintillating conversation with a shouted, “Jaaadennnn!” Laney rolled her eyes and shook her head, and Jaden laughed. Was he laughing because of what she’d done? On fan girl’s next yowl, Laney lifted a finger to her head and subtly did the universal sign for crazy, making small circles against her temple. Jaden laughed harder, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Unable to help herself, Laney burst out in giggles as well. This was crazy. Insane. She was sharing a laugh with one of the sexiest men alive, while he sat ten seats away from her. Kendall would never believe this. As the commercial break came to an end, Laney thanked her maker that she hadn’t been booted from her seat. It meant she had at least ten more minutes to flirt with Jaden Kingsley. And flirt they did, with the only style of communication at their disposal. Body language. Later, if Laney’d had a gun pointed to her head, she couldn’t have told anyone what had happened during the award show for those ten minutes. The only thing she’d be able to share was that Jaden’s eyes sparkled when he laughed, that his grin was slightly crooked, and that with all the deals she’d made with God to let the fun with Jaden continue, she was never going to get to eat chocolate again. (Going without sex was no longer on the bargaining table.) Seconds after the music swelled, announcing the next commercial break, fan girl let out a loud sob. “No! You can’t make me go.” Startled, Laney looked toward the girl. Clipboard lady—the one who’d pulled Kendall out of line—leveled a no-nonsense glare at fan girl. “Up. Now.” As the girl slunk away, flanked by Ms. Clipboard, Laney almost felt sorry for her. Yeah, the girl hadn’t exactly been a model seatfiller, but if it wasn’t for her crazy antics, Jaden probably wouldn’t have ever looked Laney’s way. She turned back toward Jaden and her stomach dropped. He was gone. Dammit. Resigned to be without a flirting partner for the rest of the show, Laney sighed and settled back into her seat. Her tiny beaded purse, holding only her driver’s license, a few dollars and her car keys, slipped from her lap and fell to the floor. She leaned over to retrieve it and on the upswing saw a pair of legs in dark slacks settling into the seat next to her. “Is this seat taken?” Laney’s gaze swept up over black pants and burgundy shirt to meet familiar brown eyes. She smiled. “It is now.” This is only the beginning… To read the continuing seatfilling adventures of Delaney and Kendall, head on over to www.ashleighraine.com. Ashleigh Raine is a multi-published, award-winning writing team made up of lifelong friends, Jennifer and Lisa. Living in the Los Angeles area, they have both worked various jobs in the Entertainment industry including stagehand, script reader, feature film production assistant, precision driver, theatrical lighting designer, seatfiller and background actor. You can learn more about them on their website. Check out Driven to Distraction, a Hollywood Heat novel, available now at Samhain Publishing. |
