It's Adopt-a-Fox Day Over at the WitchyChicks...My Pick!

A month or so ago, the WitchyChicks decided to set aside one day a month for our new Adopt-a-Fox program. One day where we can be giggling fangirls and unremorsefully ogle {and even ooOOgle} A Man(!) of our choosing. Why a fox? Why, because we're Chicks, y'see, and foxes love to hang around the henhouse. At least, we like to think they do.

Today the pick was mine, and as such, we are going to celebrate and revel in the male loveliness that is . . .

Gerard Butler.

Hang on to your petticoats, girls. We are talking about adoption here, but this man is guaranteed not to add one iota of maternal sensibilities to your already overloaded hormonal burden.

A Hot Scot if there ever was one, Gerard Butler has at long last arrived in Hollywood's eyes with the role of the wise and powerful {and dead sexy, to boot} King Leonidas in the recent blockbuster hit movie, '300'.

I give you, His Royal Thighness... King Leo, himself.

But tall, dark, and handsome are not the least of Gerard's many delectable attributes. He is a rugged man's man, but with the kind of softness a woman looooooooves; he has a crazy laugh that never fails to bring a smile to my face; he's intelligent and spiritual, and speaks openly about things that matter to him... all in an accent that, well, I should probably not discuss what that accent can do, at least not on a public forum; and he possesses a wonderfully zany sense of humor. An admitted lover of women in all shapes, sizes, and colors, he once described himself as a bad boy... with a good heart.

Is there any better kind?

He even dearly loves his mum, Margaret, and speaks of her often in interviews. Altogether now. Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh!!!!!!

{{That's G with his Mum at right...}

If you missed Gerry in 300, you might also have seen him in Phantom of the Opera {can you say tight breeches and an open-chested white poet's shirt? I knew you could!}, or perhaps Dear Frankie {one of my top movies of all time}, or Timeline, Dracula 2000, Reign of Fire, the USA miniseries Attila, or even Lara Croft: Cradle of Life, where he had the audacity to outshine the star, Angelina Jolie.

If you have somehow managed to miss Gerard in any of the above movies, queue them up at Netflix. I guarantee you that even if the movie isn't top notch, Gerard Butler's acting talents *are*.

Happy drooling! I mean, viewing!

Mad {madly!}

P.S. By the way -- Gerry does wear a kilt to special events. Except somehow he manages to give Scottish traditional garb a modern, bad boy edge. Woot! Woot!

Here are a few more pics, just because there can't be too many of this lovely man...

And, because I know you're dying to hear the accent.... ;>

A long and winding road... or how I came to be an author of paranormal mysteries

When I first started writing, lo, these many years ago {fourteen, to be precise}, I had no idea if I could write an entire book. Oh, I'd always written -- journals, essays, poetry -- because writing about my experiences was my way of dealing with the world. But a whole book, with characters I could relate to and care about, and situations that made sense, and a story that wouldn't let go? Did I really have the creativity? I didn't know, but I knew I wanted to try.

They say to write what you know, so it seemed sensible to try to write what I was most often reading at the time -- straight historical romance. It was harder than it looked. There were so many wonderful authors out there, so many who inspired me but at the same time made me think I could never be as good. But since I was writing just for myself, there was no pressure, no reason not to continue. Each new scene was a challenge, each chapter completed a major accomplishment. By the time I had finished the manuscript eighteen months later I was well and rightly hooked by the process of writing, but I still thought of myself as a dabbler. Sure, I was writing, but it was just for fun. No one else could possibly want to read my stuff...

I did mention my recent hobby to a couple of friends, and they asked to read what I had written. When they professed to actually enjoy it, I thought they were just being kind... as were members of a writing group I had found all the way across the state. But it got me to thinking. Could it be possible? Did I have a talent for this that I had never really expected to find?

The writing group suggested that I try submitting the manuscript to a New York publisher. So, with courage born of naivete, I went to my bookshelves and made a list of all the publishers represented there. A book at the library described the submission process. Armed with this new and foreign knowledge, I made my best attempt at writing a query letter and synopsis and sent off a few letters. Most of these came back with form rejections. I was more surprised than anyone when I received an actual request for the complete manuscript a month or two later from a major publisher. Back then I was writing on an old model home computer {a big step up from the typewriter I had started on, let me tell you} with an inkjet printer that was slow as molasses at printing off a 400 page manuscript, but print it I did. The expense of postage added to the expense of printing made me gulp, but it was far too late to turn back. I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers, and mailed it anyway.

As you might have guessed, that manuscript never did sell. The publisher kept it for eight months before rejecting it with a one and a half page letter telling me why they were returning it to me. Since I never really expected it to sell anyway, it didn't even hurt all that much. {Or is that pain just dulled by the time that has passed? Hmm...} I set the manuscript and the letter aside and just kept writing my stories, slowly, but surely. But my critique group didn't want to let it go. A letter with details wasn't just any old rejection. It was {and still is} rare to receive that kind of feedback. The publishing business worked with a set of unspoken rules and credos. Best that I learned them now and save myself heartache later.

Armed with my writing friends' collective knowledge, so graciously shared, and filled with a new hope, I continued to write and submit. But with each new manuscript submitted and rejected by all, the hope dwindled, and the self-confidence I had fought to attain began to wither. How could anyone continue to receive so-called "good" rejections for so many years but not sell the books she was writing? Maybe it was just not meant to be. Maybe I was kidding myself about this writing business. Maybe I should just quit while I was ahead.

I came to that point several times. Nearly quitting. Wanting to and not understanding why I couldn't seem to do it, why I clung to that last vestige of... well, not quite hope, but perhaps compulsion might describe it best, and all the while, a part of me was dying inside. Finally, even that part of me reached rock bottom. What was I doing? Why was I torturing myself this way?

Around that time I had had a strange experience where a story idea -- a character herself, really -- had come to me out of the blue and insisted I take down what she had to say, word for word. Information flowed from my brain to my fingers and out on the screen. Three pages of monologue in a kind of "brain dump" I had never before experienced. When all was said and done, I saved the file in my IDEAS folder and promptly forgot about it. I really had no clue what I could ever do with it. It wasn't suitable for historical romance. It wasn't even a romance at all, and furthermore, it was in first person. I had never liked first person! And it was paranormal. Now I have been a lifelong reader and researcher of the paranormal, so that part about it I liked, but it had never even occurred to me to include it in my writing. I was a writer of straight historical romance. This idea would never work for me. It was probably silly to even have saved it. Why-oh-why couldn't I get ideas that would sell?

I nearly gave up on writing altogether during that summer of my supreme discontent. But the universe had other ideas. I did actually stop writing for a few months. I read a lot, but I could no longer find things that sang to me. Nothing that resonated. Was it not enough that I was giving up on writing? Did I have to lose my love for reading as well? It hardly seemed fair.

I thought back to the last story I had read that had really gripped me, that had reached down into the very core of me and refused to let go: Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon. I took the book down again and tried to look at it with fresh eyes. What was it about that book in particular that I enjoyed so much? What I found surprised me. It wasn't the Scottish history or the wonderful Scotsman Jamie Fraser, as compelling as both of those things were to my soul. It was the epic nature of the book, the way it blended so many things -- including the paranormal -- and yet not one felt out of place. A cross-genre book that broke all the rules. It just felt... natural. Right. Meant to be.

And then there was the Goddess writer's seminar I attended, given by the wonderful Barbara Samuels and Jennifer Crusie. These two amazing women spoke eloquently about their "Girls in the Basement," their muses whom they likened to tough-and-difficult-to-please teenage girls. It was when they started writing to please their girls that they felt they truly found their niche. The sweet spot of story. Their seminar really got me to thinking. What if I let my inner self go? What if I forgot all about the editors I was trying to please? What if I forgot all about markets and writing rules and requirements and just wrote something for myself? What would that something be?

My mind kept wandering back to the strange idea I'd had months before. Well, it wasn't romance. It wasn't historical. It was completely and utterly different from anything I'd ever done before... but maybe that was what I needed most at that point in time. Somehow I needed to find the joy again. Maybe this was just what the muses ordered.

So I gave myself permission to turn off all the voices, all the editorial, to break whatever rules I wanted to break for the sake of the story, to just write what came to me through my Maggie's voice. If I wanted to throw in a kitchen sink, then I was going to do just that, and if I wanted it to be orange, then that's what it was going to be. The story idea had come to me as a mystery, so that's what I wrote. Maggie was a fresh voice in my head, like a friend I had known forever, and she made me laugh amidst the darker goings-on in the story. Another rule broken, ha ha! And all of spookiness made it that much better. Light and dark, funny and yet unnerving, modern and yet rooted in the Old Ways... Ghosts, and witches, and murder, oh my! And the story that came as a result scrubbed away the sadness and despair of ever publishing and it renewed my faith in my writing. I was a writer. Whether I was a writer who would publish or not, the fact that I wrote was a part of me that could never be taken away unless I allowed it to be.

Why it never occurred to me before to include the paranormal in my writing, I will never know. Maybe I just wasn't ready. Maybe I needed to discover my inner strength as I expanded my writing abilities. Maybe I had to go through everything I did in order to believe in myself in the end. Whatever the reason, by finally letting go and yielding to the wisdom of the universe, I found myself again. It was a long road, a winding one, but in the end one that gave me confidence and satisfaction both. Sometimes I wonder where the road will end, but I don't allow myself to dwell on that thought too long. After all, the joy of any journey should include points of interest along the path taken as much as the end destination itself. Something tells me I would do well not to forget that hard-won lesson again.


Love to all,

Mad {madly!}
www.MadelynAlt.com

The Creation Process

Over on the Witchy Chicks we were discussing the creation process each of us uses. This was a post in which I was supposed to sound very author-ish, very cool and in control as I intelligently discussed Creation, that strange, otherworldly state that occurs when I sit down at the computer and begin to write. How I create what I do, tools and techniques, how do I keep everything straight in my head.

The truth is . . .

The truth is, tools and techniques and bibles sound just a little too hardcore for little ol' fly-into-the-mist me. They're the kinds of things I should be doing but can't bring myself to put much effort into. I don't know why. I'm funny that way, I guess. Maybe because so much of it hasn't been put into words yet, because it's all still stewing away in that mysterious cauldron of creation, waiting for its turn to boil . . . and trying to find words for it before it's ready would be kind of like tasting a recipe before all the ingredients are in there. It just doesn't do it justice.

I'm a seat of the pants writer. When I sit down to write a new project, I develop a very generalized plan for what's going to happen. I know which main characters are going to be involved. I know who the victim will be, and his or her relationships with the people in their lives. I know how my Maggie will come to be involved. I know a few of the scenes that will need to be there to carry on the series arc due to what happened in the last book. I choose a point in Maggie's life to open things, and I allow her and her friends and relatives to guide me, and--voila--creation happens. Beyond that, though, it's all very nebulous and hazy and requires a great deal of trust from me.

Trust. I'm very big on it.

I have faith that the characters will come through for me. I have faith that the magic will happen. And because I have faith, it always does. I close my eyes, I take that leap of faith. The bridge always appears beneath my feet. Sometimes it appears a step at a time, sometimes I see a dozen feet at a time, but I'm always given a briefest glimpse of the entire blessed thing as reassurance that I'll be able to walk the walk when the time comes.

This process has never failed me, and I don't expect that it ever will.

What I do keep in a file is a list of characters and the books they first appear in, the briefest of descriptions and major character issues; a list of establishments Maggie has frequented, and their general location in town; and a huge number of pictures that "speak" to me with their imagery. I'm big on imagery and atmosphere, because they appeal on a subconscious level and lend a bit of creative magic to the mystical dreamworld going on somewhere in my brain.

Creation really is an interesting process, isn't it? One would think that, since the end result is the same, the process itself must also be the same, but I've found that it's very different from author to author to author. Flying into the mist is not for the faint of heart, and it's not for anyone who must control every aspect of everything at all times, but it works for me, and that's all that matters.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!} ... and now that label probably makes sense, heh ;>

P.S. The Find function {Control-F} is my best friend :) :)

Stranger than you've dreamt it...

If I tell you that I've never actually seen a ghost, will you hold it against me?

To me, it doesn't matter, really. I don't need to see them to know that they are there. I always have known, even during the years I tried to convince myself that they were figments of my imagination. For me, it's all about sounds, feelings, perceptions, and movement.

Let me share a few glimpses into my world:

1) The first house that we rented when we returned to Indiana ate shoes. Honestly. One half of pairs, and none of them were ever seen again.

2) Another of the houses that we rented had a cold spot in the laundry room, and a very anxious feeling to it. My oldest boys were four and two at the time, and the older of the two would tell me about waking up to find a "chocolate man with red eyes" standing at the end of his bed. Now, we live in rural Indiana, and at the time the population was predominantly caucasian--I don't think my boys had ever actually seen an African American person at the time, which seems terribly odd to me, but that's just the way that it was. We also live in an area that was quite active in the Underground Railroad during the Civil War. Could it have been? Or was this another kind of entity entirely?

3) The chocolate man apparently followed us to our next home, because the younger of the two started seeing him as well. This house had more than one spirit in attendance. Often when I was home alone, I would hear very distinct human footsteps cross the entire length of the two rooms above. We also had a prankster. Things would disappear quite often and then reappear later in places that did not make sense--for example, a recipe card I was using for some cookies I was baking went missing, only to show up three days later in the center of my bed.

The strangest thing that happened at this house, however, occurred on a rare "mental health day" I had taken off work. My employer at the time had a habit of calling with a million questions, no matter if you were sick or on vacation or what, so when I left the house to pick the boys up from school, I took the phone {a wall model... this house was small enough that I just had the one phone, and this was back in the day... ;> } off the hook and laid it on the floor below so that if my employer called, the phone wouldn't just ring and ring, alerting them to the fact that I was not, in fact, at home. I locked the door, and left the house. When the boys and I returned fifteen minutes later, I went to replace the phone, and--you guessed it--the phone was already back on the hook. No one had been there, and the doors were still locked.

4) Most of the dreams I have are just run-of-the-mill dreams {with the odd pre-cog one thrown in for good measure, but always over something trivial}. Some, though, are extremely vivid and detailed and have a sense of urgency to them. That "Hey, pay attention" feeling.

Back when I was searching for an agent for what has become the Bewitching series, I received an offer of representation from two agents on the same day, and I was faced with making a decision between the two. Both had excellent reputations--that wasn't the problem. One of the agencies had irritated a few authors with contract provisions, but the agent was effusive about the first book {TTWM} and felt positive it would sell with only a few very minor revisions prior to submission. The other agent liked the book, liked my writing, but thought that there were elements in it that would need to be completely revised -- but this agent was highly regarded by the authors the agency represented, and I knew more about them than I did the first agency.

I struggled over this dilemma for a few days, knowing that control of my destiny was in my hands, and I would have only myself to blame if things went badly. How was I supposed to choose between two good agents? Which one would be more likely to sell a difficult project? How could I possibly guess? Did my manuscript need a tremendous amount of revision, or would the changes the second agent wanted edit out the things that made the book mine? I had no idea -- agents don't tell you what they want to see without signing you on, so even that was no help. But in reading back over the manuscript itself, it felt right. It felt good. Minor changes I could see, but nothing felt wrong structurally, which is what a major revision would have entailed. But what if I was wrong?

The night before I would have to give my decision {which I still had not made}, I had a conversation with my guides. Look, I told them, I really could use some help here. If you have sent me signs and I've missed them, I'm sorry, but you know that sometimes I get so busy that I can't see what's right in front of me. Help me, please. Help me make the right decision.

That night I had a dream, one of the "Pay attention!" kind that you can't mistake for anything other than Notices From On High. The dream took place sometime in the medieval period -- maybe the 1400s from the way I was dressed when I looked down at myself. It felt like England to me, and the place--a big, cavernous place with a round tower --was very familiar to me, as though I'd been there often. The dream started out sunny and clear, the sky brilliantly blue, warm both in actuality and in the overall feeling of the place, but things quickly changed once inside. Suddenly I was being chased by several men along these raised platforms within the big barn structure. The fear was overwhelming--I could taste it in the back of my throat. I can still feel it now, remembering. I ended up running the wrong way. I remember clutching my stomach and thinking, "My baby..." I was trapped, and I knew it, and the men were coming at me from all directions. I looked down over the railing of the catwalk, and I remember hearing this voice in the dream: "You can either stay here and almost certainly die, or you can take a leap of faith now and perhaps live..." I made my decision. I leapt.

And then I woke up.

I knew the dream was more than that the instant I woke up. The symbolism in the dream to me was unmistakable as it related to my situation, and I accepted the answer I was given gratefully. I called agent #1 that morning and accepted her offer. Four months later, 1 month and 1 day after the book was submitted, she sold the first 3 books in what became the Bewitching series to Berkley. I've been very happy with the agency ever since.

But the dream ... I realized later that it worked on more than one level. I've dreamed of the same place since then, the people, snippets, not a continuing dream, just bits and pieces that all fit together like a puzzle. But nothing that relates directly to my life currently, or if it does I haven't figured that out. Just this place. There is a man there, and the feeling of intense love, blindingly sweet. All I can see is his eyes, and the overall sense of him, but I know I adored him.

I love having these dreams. They leave me happy and serene and... I don't know... certain of the continuation of awareness? Of life?

5) While traveling in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, we stopped at a touristy place called The Mystery Spot, just west of St. Ignace. Like its more famous sister in Oregon, this is a place where compasses don't work right, where things seem to roll uphill, where time and space and distance all seem to converge and fold in upon each other. Or that's what they say. ;> I took the boys in for a little bit of fun, expecting optical illusions and the like... and was amazed by my reaction to the spot. I don't know if it's all part and parcel of being a sensitive/intuitive, or whether it's just because I'm sensitive to energy in general, but the moment I crossed a certain line, I felt... off-balance. Heavy, as though something weighty was pressing down upon me from above. My ears rang. My skin buzzed. It wasn't an uncomfortable place, just very different from what I normally experience. And once I left the property, everything was back to normal.

6) Indiana has a lot of places where Indian battles were fought, as well as places that were sacred to the regional tribes. One of these is a place called Seven Sisters, a series of rocky promontories that overlook the Wabash River, where the movement of the river over eons has carved out a series of seven columnar features from the limestone riverbed. We went looking for this place on recommendation from a friend, and were pleased when we managed to find it, considering that it is kind of out of the way. I got out of the car and approached the edge cautiously {this isn't a well-marked place, so apparently they don't feel the need to put up fencing or guard rails for visitors}. Standing there on the edge, surveying the lower floodplain opposite, I had a flash of fires and sound, almost like the overlay effect often used in film. We found a small sign later that told of the sacredness of the site to the Miami tribe, and that they used to hold rituals there.

7) My most recent experience actually took place at work last fall. I was standing in the doorway to an office, chatting with a friend, and all of a sudden felt a puff of very much directed breath against my neck. It surprised the heck out of me -- I stopped mid-sentence and spun around, wondering which of the office goofballs were feeling just a little bit naughty that morning. :) There was no one there, of course, but it was definitely too focused to be a random draft {if you've ever had someone gently blow their breath up the length of your neck, then you know this feeling... }. We did have two vehicular deaths happen a couple of years apart, directly in front of the building, and of course you never know what has happened on open land prior to the building's existence. Whoever or whatever it was was definitely feeling a bit frisky that morning, though.

This is getting way too long so this is it from me for now, but I hope you've enjoyed the tales. For me, what most people view as paranormal or supernatural is just a normal part of life and the way I experience it. And really, I can't imagine living it any other way. :)

What about you? Do you have tales to share?

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

Inexplicable Moments of Connection

I used to smile and nod politely when other authors spoke of their muses, before turning away so they wouldn't see my eyebrows stretching high in amused disbelief. One writer friend goes so far as to serve her muse up with gourmet coffee in a special cup each and every morning that she sits down to write. Another buys her muse pretty little things, a glass bead, a pretty feather. "How... odd," I would think to myself, totally not getting it. I didn't believe for a minute that they thought of their muses as real entities. I mean, we are living in the twenty-first century. Surely such eccentricities went out with all of the modern technological advances and scientific wisdom.

No?

Inspiration does have a way of striking at the strangest times. An unusual turn of phrase in the middle of a conversation remembered later might spark a whole new way of thinking. A snippet of lyric in a song you've heard a thousand times suddenly takes on new meaning. The way the sun parts an unusual cloud formation, casting a strange ad eerie light on the landscape below. An article highlighting the quirks and peculiarities of modern life. Someone you see out of the corner of your eye.

Then there are the dreams.

I have been known to have the rare precognitive dream {always on subjects trivial, though, darn it!}, but far more often I have dreams that are... different from the garden-variety ventures into Wonderland. Dreams where I am not me, where I am not in the here and now, but some faraway place. They are vivid and detailed glimpses into the lives of other people, their motivations, their heartbreak, their desires. Their stories. Sometimes I'm an invisible bystander witnessing the events, sometimes I look out through the eyes of someone there, experiencing it first hand. Sometimes I'm not even female. I've used some of these, while others I have stored for other projects, somewhere down the line. It feels right to do that. Somehow I feel I'm being allowed to see so "they" will have life once more.

So, might it be a being of creativity bestowing these lovely nuggets of inspiration upon me? Or am I connecting the dots on some vast unseen web of creative material? Jumping from one thought dimension to the next? As a wise man once said, "We are all connected."... but how?

You'll have to excuse me now. An old friend is waiting for a sweet cup of tea, served up fresh, with love, from me.

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

Great Scot!!!

The world is about to discover the seemingly limitless talents of a heretofore underappreciated Scottish actor whose career trajectory I've been following for some time, and all I can say is, it's about time!!!

The movie 300 is thundering into theaters nationwide today. In fact, in many cities it opened at the midnight hour last night to gargantuan box-office success. A movie about an underdog kingdom defiantly facing down a fearsome contingent of warriors against truly mind-boggling odds, 300 has not only the boys and men surging eagerly toward the theaters, but also is drawing women of all ages in droves.

{Girrrls, can you say 'impeccably toned and fabulous male bodies clad in nothing but leather briefs and glorious crimson capes?' Uh huh. I thought you could.}

All teasing aside... 300 is lead by my H'wood favorite, Scotsman Gerard Butler {a.k.a. Gerry Butler, a.k.a. Yon Great Kilted One; fabulous in Phantom of the Opera, Dear Frankie, Timeline, and Beowulf & Grendel... and yes, that's him above}, who shines even brighter than ever before as the fiercely protective and unyielding King Leonidas. His commanding presence can be physically felt and experienced by the viewer--powerful, powerful, powerful. Not to be outdone, the rest of the movie's talented cast delivers each and every scene with a life and vigor that has managed to gather the attention of all of Hollywood, comic book fans, gaming fans, action adventure fans, and yes, women world-wide. Not bad for a film that stars none of the usual Star Magazine and US Weekly crowd. {Thanks to director Zack Snyder for that!}

Ah, but if it offered nothing more than a whole lotta eye candy, the advance buzz wouldn't have reached such impressive heights. The CGI special effects are amazing, the stylized atmosphere starkly commanding and beautiful at once, often tinged by an eerie, golden light. In fact, the imagery is so all-encompassing, one might expect character development to be an unfortunate afterthought, but the performances of all actors involved in this film are flawless through and through. Especially evocative is the emotional arc of the love story between Leonidas and his beloved queen, Gorgo {played by the exceptional Lena Headey}. Their exchanges without words are both poignant and heartrending, clearly read by anyone who thinks to look.

300 is a powerful and amazing ride, THE must-see movie of the year. Go see it!

Have fun at the movies!

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

P.S. Oh, okay. Since you begged, here's one more pic. This one's from the March 5th premiere at the Grauman Chinese Theater in Los Angeles:

He is fairly fabulous, isn't he? You should see him in a kilt.

P.P.S. One last thing to highlight the vid work of a very talented friend, BluEyedDaizy Productions {see the link to the right--->}:

The Single Most Important Bit of Writing Advice I Can Give You

The Witchy Chicks have been sharing publishing wisdom for aspiring writers all week. If you have a moment, please go here to benefit from their wonderful words of wisdom. On the same note but from a slightly different angle:

Selling that first book is a dream come true for so many writers. When The Call comes in, the world takes on a rosy glow, fairy sparkles drift down like confetti, and your cheeks hurt from that maniacal grin you can't seem to wipe off your face. Not that you mind. The world is now your oyster, and you are the pearl! Your life is going to change (in a good way!) overnight! You see dollar signs! Fame! Fortune! Someone to clean the bathroom for you!

Ah, the life of the published author. It doesn't get any better than this. Am I right?

Maybe. But then again, maybe not...

Being a new author in the writing biz can be a little bit like being submerged in a shark cage in the Bermuda Triangle -- the sharks are circling, the holes in the cage are bigger than you thought they were, and you're in danger of passing over into the oblivion of the abyss. If you're lucky you might go the easy way, but the hard way is nibbling away at your hard-won self-confidence, and you are horrified to find that the decision might not be yours to make.

The dangers? Oh-so-many things can go wrong. You might find that your editor has so many authors that he/she doesn't really remember your name (it's terribly disconcerting to have to remind the editor that bought your book who you are... again). Your book might have been bought as filler for a spot on the list, but nobody bothers to tell you -- in fact, they are hoping you don't realize it, because it brings up all sorts of uncomfortable questions that no one really has answers to. The agent you struggled so hard and so long to acquire might not be terribly interested in putting out a lot of effort on your behalf until you become a proven commodity -- something that takes excellent writing, an idea that grabs the reading community by its throat, perfect timing, years of building a readership, and a whole lotta luck. Your publisher might not show a lot of support until that same readership provides evidence of itself, which means you have a lot of work ahead of you trying to grab the attention of a lot of people who have no idea who you are or what you have to offer, because no one has ever heard of you or your book, let alone manage to come across it on bookstsore shelves, because the bookstore owners and buyers haven't heard of you, either. You have no say over the cover, little say over the title or back cover copy, little to no publicity unless you do it yourself, and to top off this bitter mouthful, you *will* at some point be asked to make changes to your story that you might or might not be comfortable with.

Still with me?

Take a deep breath, prospective author. I know you might have issues with control (most of us do), but I'm going to let you in on The Secret. You know, the one that you've KNOWN has been out there all along while you were struggling to learn your craft. The Secret that is whispered about on author loops, and shared in quiet corners at conferences.

Ready? Here it comes.

The only true control you will have is what you choose to put into the work. It's all about the work. Your writing, your voice, your characters, your world-building, your story. When your agent drops you because you're not moving up the ladder, when your royalties scarcely cover the groceries, let alone the heating bill on the house you can't afford, when publishers go out of business, or lines are let go, when the cargo train carrying copies of your book from east coast to west derails and bursts into flames, along with a large percentage of the first and only printing of your book (this actually happened, by the way), you will realize that you have absolutely no control over these very influential outside influences on your writing career. This will trouble you greatly. Try to ignore that little voice that insists you Must Retain Control At All Times. It isn't possible. Instead, devote the bulk of your energy to nurturing and learning and maturing at this career that is part craft, part art, and all you.

Protect. The. Work.

Guard it like a jealous dog with a particularly juicy bone. Don't let the negative voices of critics (whose numbers are truly astonishing, by the way) drag you down into the mire that is their world. They don't realize the amount of energy you put into your latest manuscript, how you struggled, how you bled. They only know that something about it did not work for them, but haven't the subjectivity to realize that their voice is only one in thousands. (With luck, hundreds of thousands. :) ) Don't play comparison games with other authors, whose careers are not the same as yours and never will be. (Just as you don't know the intricacies of their lives, you also don't know the intricacies of their careers, and the reality might not be as pretty as you might believe...) Don't waste energy on things that have no impact on your career, but can have a terribly detrimental impact on your ability to WRITE.

Protect. The. Work.

Learn to trust those people who are in your corner (agent, editor, marketing departments, publicity, etc.) to do their jobs. Do everything you can to help them do their jobs, but at the same time, realize that you have to be involved in your career, too. Learn as much as you can about the publishing business in all its glory. Ask questions, but be aware that some questions will not have immediate answers, and sometimes the answers aren't going to be ones that you will feel comfortable with. Plan out the way that you want your career to go, but be flexible. Read all of the wisdom from the W'Chicks as provided on the link above, and study it well... but always remember that the quality of Your Work is the real reason you're here.

Protect. The. Work. It cannot be said enough.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

Top Five Fave Paranormal Movies & TV Shows

Like with the book list, this is such an easy topic for me. I love books, love writing 'em, love reading 'em, but my second favorite thing in this world would be a really well-done movie. I've always preferred fantasy-land over the real thing, I suppose.

My top faves, in no particular order (and I know I'm going to be leaving out a whole lot, but these are what came to me off the top of my head):

Practical Magic

What is not to like about girl-next-door Sandra Bullock and gorgeous Nicole Kidman as a pair of sister-witches descended from a long line of natural witches whose family suffers beneath the weight of a curse placed upon them from one of their very own? The crazy Victorian house filled with antiques, the seaside village, the garden and yard surrounded by white picket fences, the book of shadows thick with centuries of magical words and remedies, the hippy-chic clothes and hair extensions. Oh, and Aidan Quinn, in one of his most charming roles ever. There is something very quiet and steady and reassuring about his character here.

The scene at left is probably my favorite in the whole movie, for atmostphere and for the way magic is shown as just being a natural part of Sally/Sandra's existence. She has a nagging feeling, then hears her daughters and sister calling for her on the wind. I just love it. I even love the soundtrack.

Dragonfly

A doctor loses his pregnant wife, an M.D., while she is on a Red Cross mission to a South American country. She is presumed dead, but he never recovers her body, a fact that haunts him through the vast depths of his grief. Suddenly this man of science begins hearing and experiencing things that are at odds with his aetheistic non-beliefs. Is Emily haunting him for not accompanying her? Is she reaching out to him from beyond the grave because she wants him there with her? Or is he just going mad?

I loved this movie. Loved it for its atmosphere, for its sensitive rendering of the emotions a person suffers after a loved one passes over, but mostly for the questions it raises about human consciousness. Kevin Costner and Linda Hunt (as a Catholic nun who got into trouble for investigating near death experiences) are both wonderful, as is Susanna Thompson as his late wife.

The Mists of Avalon

This made-for-TV miniseries is based on the novel by Marion Zimmer Bradley and tells the King Arthur story from the viewpoint of one of the most reviled women of the original versions, Morgaine Le Fey. The opening scene, with Morgaine parting the mists is gorgeous.

The movie suffered in a few places from overacting (or was it the script?) and from non-movie-quality sets, but it was fascinating and beautiful, nevertheless. It also has a gorgeous soundtrack, sometimes airy, sometimes ominous, sometimes both at the same time as it follows the tale of treachery, deceit, and the longings of the human heart.

John Edward Cross Country

Actually I don't consider this paranormal, but I know there are lots of people out there who would put it in the realm of fantasy and the paranormal, so I will include it here. From my standpoint, John Edward is amazing. He has done more to bring the paranormal and communication from the other side to the skeptical masses than anyone else I can think of, and he does it with a kindness and sense of humor that keeps him accessible. The man is a phenomena in and of himself. I sense things from him that I don't get from all of the TV self-proclaimed psychics. I think he's the real deal. What do you think?

Dracula 2000

Stop laughing. Yes, I will include this B-movie gore-fest spectacle on my lists of favorites. Why? Well, I can assure you, it had nothing to do with the wonder that is Gerard Butler.

Honest.

Yes, that's him...

Seriously, forget the bad script, forget the writhing vamp vixens who couldn't act their way out of a shoebox, forget the less-than-spectacular-or-original descent into gratuitous blood and gore. Beyond all of that was a truly original theory behind the Dracula myth and what made him into this being that he is. Had the film focused on that and hired real screenwriters (with talent, I might add), this movie had the potential to do something great, to perhaps even become a classic in Dracula moviemaking history.

Besides, if you saw *him* coming at you out of the mists, would you run away? LOL.

Co-star Christopher Plummer said that Gerard Butler had a stillness about him that made him amazing to watch.I wholeheartedly concur. Heh.

Oh, and speaking of Gerard Butler:

Phantom of the Opera

I know, I know. The Opera Ghost isn't reeeeeeally a ghost. But just to humor me, let's pretend that he is, because that gives me the opportunity to display this:

Seriously. The movie is fantastic. Fabulous sets, talented actors, a gorgeous production. I even bought the soundtrack, and after two years of wearing it out, I still can’t listen to the CD set without tears. The emotional honesty of the premier voices never fails to amaze me. Emmy Rossum’s haunting soprano blends seamlessly with Patrick Wilson’s quietly accomplished Raoul, and the circle is completed by the raw energy and heartstopping pathos in Gerard Butler’s appealing baritone--sometimes rough-edged, sometimes smooth and pure, but always, always compelling with sheer masculine power. If you have somehow managed to miss this, do whatever it takes to get your hands on it. You’ll never forget it.

So he's not really a ghost. He could be.

"Come to me, my Angel of Music..."

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

Favorite Paranormal Reading...

I always have enjoyed seeing what is on the reading lists of my favorite people, so after I ran through this exercise for the Witchy Chicks, I thought I would share the same over here. So, with that in mind, here are some of my all-time favorite paranormal reads:

The Classics:

Rebecca, by Daphne DuMaurier
What's not to like about this book? DuMaurier does sinister foreboding like no other author I know of. Being big on atmosphere, I absolutely worship at her feet. Is this a paranormal novel? Rebecca, beautiful Rebecca . . . she was a Thoughtform, kept present on the physical plane by the memories and guilt and desires of those she affected most. Without a doubt she was a force to be reckoned with, ghost or no ghost.

Salem's Lot, by Stephen King
Well, at least with this one there's no question as to whether it's paranormal or not. I wasn't a King devotee when I picked this up from my then-boyfriend's-now-husband's bedside table. I still can't say that I'm a devotee, mostly because I'm a wuss and I have a hard time with the hardcore gore that pops up. {My problem, no one else's...} What I can say is that, to this day, the image of little vampire babies creeping and dragging their way across the floorboards, desperate for a 'feeding', haunts my nightmares still. THAT is the power of words and story, my friends. And King is a master at it.

The Bast Series, by Rosemary Edghill
I found this series when I was trying to decide whether to pursue writing what eventually became the Bewitching mystery series. Having a background in straight historical romance, not mystery, I had not a clue whether the concept I had, combining my love of the paranormal with my reading love for a good traditional mystery, was viable and fresh or not, so I started to research paranormal mysteries. Edghill's Bast books predated the current paranormal trend -- at the time, there simply wasn't a whole lot of other books of that type out there. One thing I was fascinated by was her portrayal of the urban magic scene. It was so alien from anything I'd ever encountered before {evidently I have lead a fairly sheltered life, heh}, and it was so interesting to read how Bast experienced her world. My only quibble was that the murders she encountered all took place in the witchy world.

Practical Magic, by Alice Hoffman
Magical realism at its best, whatever the book. Alice Hoffman's prose is spare enough to be erudite, lush enough to convey atmosphere {there's that word again} in spades, and her understanding of the inner workings of the human psyche leaves me breathless. Another author at whose feet I worship. {I am unworthy!}

Three Sisters Island Trilogy, by Nora Roberts
Another series I found when I started researching paranormal fiction. What can anyone say about La Nora? The woman is a phenomenon. Like Rebecca De Winter, a force to be reckoned with {only a whole lot nicer and with a lot more class...}. The Three Sisters is like taking a heaping helping of Practical Magic, blending it with a goodly portion of Sleeping With the Enemy, and mixing well. This is Nora Roberts at her very best. My favorite character was Air, although Fire resonated on a deep level as well. I may have to dig this series out from the depths of my bookshelves and reread them, ASAP.

The Up-and-Comings:

The Rachel Morgan/Dead series, by Kim Harrison
A kickass bounty hunter-slash-witch in an alternate universe Cincinnati , a wiseass pixie named Jenks who runs interference for her, a scaryass vampire roomie named Ivy, and a bunch of nastyass and paranormal criminal types who make me pull up the covers to my chin and wish for a good, thick, cashmere scarf to tie around my throat for protection. You want a wild ride? Read Kim Harrison.

The Psychic Eye series, by Victoria Laurie
What is not to like about a real-life psychic who is writing a romantic paranormal mystery series about Psychic Detective Abby Cooper and her real-life Detective boyfriend, Dutch. Abby knows her psychic powers are real, but she's as down-to-earth as they come about anything else that goes bump in the night. This is a fun series, a lot lighter than Harrison, but I have different tastes at different times. One thing I really love is the way Victoria describes the way being psychic works, straight from her own experiences. She illuminates the subject in a way few others can, and it brings a freshness to Abby that I love to read. Trust me on this -- Victoria Laurie is a talented and fascinating contributor to the mystery genre. You will enjoy these books.


And my pick for the #1 Paranormal Novel of all time???

Ammie Come Home, by Barbara Michaels
This ultimately belongs in the Classics breakdown as it was published in the early 1970s, but it deserves a label all its own. Ammie Come Home tells of a case of ghostly possession that is as shiver-inducing as it is sinister. I love, love, love this book. Just one mention of the "Otherness" behind her eyes . . . wooooooooooooh! Just don't read it on a dark night with the wind blowing and no one in bed next to you.

Wait! Have I mentioned yet Dolores Stewart Riccio's Circle series, or Molly Cochran & Warren Murphy's The Forever King, or Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse series, and of course not once did I mention the Harry Potter series {as if it needs my help...}, and . . . not once did I mention the Witchy Chick's utterly incredibly fabulous books, which required a whole lot of restraint, let me tell you. My Girrrrrls are wonderfully talented storytellers and writers.

You know, one thing that I realized when I finished this exercise: Clearly I need to find the time to read more. I miss it!!!

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

The Birth of the Bewitching Mysteries...

Where do I get my ideas? When it comes to Maggie, the truth is, I'm not quite sure.

Maggie, you see, came to me herself.

I've always thought of muses as beings of light and air, wispy, feminine, fluttering in and out of a person's subconscious as they please to bestow their gifts of inspiration.

The day Maggie was born, my muse came at me with a sledgehammer.

I had been working all morning, alone in my busy office. Doing a million things other than writing: answering the phone, placing purchase orders, solving problems. Suddenly I was slammed with a cavalcade of words, compelling me, no, demanding that I let them out. I opened a Word document, set my fingers on the keyboard, and started typing.

Fast.

Within just a few minutes I had three pages of something that completely mystified me.

Three pages of first person dialogue set in modern times. Three pages filled with paranormal references. Three pages that obviously did not belong in any kind of romance novel that I knew of. And at the time, I had always written straight historical romance, told in a third person point of view.

Huh, I thought as I stared at what I had written. I have no idea where THAT came from.

I had no idea what I could do with it, so I did what I always do with story ideas that come to me at odd times while I'm working on something else: I saved it under my Ideas folder, giving it the terribly descriptive name of 'Mystery, Maybe.' And then I went back to work and promptly forgot about the whole thing.

But Maggie wasn't ready or willing to be forgotten. Those three pages had ended with the words: "My name is Margaret Mary-Catherine O'Neill, and this is my story." And Maggie, it seems, was pretty determined that her story would be told.

Several months later, I was driving on the highway toward town for lunch, and wouldn't you know, it happened again? All of a sudden, images flew at me from left and right, so strong and adamant that I actually pulled my minivan off the road onto the shoulder in order to grab a moment to capture them. {Honestly, this is a rare thing for me! ::weak grin:: } The only paper I could find was in a pile my son had "cleaned out" from his bookbag and left in the middle seat, and the only thing I could find to write with was the unsharpened end of a broken green crayon. I had no choice, and at the time I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was jotting down the images that had come to me.

What I saw that day were people, places, attitudes, and simmering amongst them, conflict. I knew immediately that they belonged with the strange visitation I'd had months before, an idea I had until just that moment forgotten. In one brief moment of providence and serendipity {well, two, technically-speaking}, I was given the basis for the Bewitching series, a broad enough glimpse that I could see the direction things would be unfolding.

I've always believed there was more than a bit of magic in the creative process. =)

Happy Holidays, all...

Mad {madly!}

It's out, it's out, it's out, it's out, it's out!!!!!!!

Not that I'm excited or anything...



A CHARMED DEATH
#2 in the Bewitching Mystery series
Available December 5th, 2006 {yes, today!!} at a bookstore near you.

All sighting reports welcome!!!!!!

And check out this new and exclusive interview: Spotlight Feature Interview

I had a lot of fun answering these thought-provoking questions for BarnesandNoble.com's Ransom Notes newsletter. Reviewer Paul Goat Allen says this about A CHARMED DEATH:


"Mystery fans who seek out "feel-good" reads for their literary escapism (books by authors like Janet Evanovich, Charlaine Harris, Kyra Davis, et al.) should definitely check out Alt's Bewitching Mystery saga, which is powered by her Everywoman heroine O'Neill. A small-town girl struggling to find her place in the world, she has an optimistic and idealistic outlook on an oftentimes malevolent and depressing reality -- as well an addiction to old episodes of Magnum P.I. -- that makes her one of the most refreshing and endearing protagonists to grace the amateur sleuth genre in years. Alt certainly picked the right name for this series. It's a bewitching saga by a positively witchy chick. Highly recommended."


Isn't that just the most amazing thing? I cannot begin to explain how blessed and honored I am feeling right now.


Love to all on this fantabulous day,

Mad {madly!}

What I love about the holiday season...

In a word {well, actually, three words}:

Chocolate. Cherry. Cordials.

I don't know who first invented these little lovelies, and quite frankly, I don't care. He or she deserves a place in the annals of history just as much as Genghis Khan. Probably more.

I mean, what could be better? Firm chocolate encasing a juicy red maraschino cherry, surrounded by some gloopy, gloppy thick, sugary syrup.

It is the stuff of the gods.

Not only that, but now someone has decided to make dark chocolate cherry cordials. Be still my heart.

Dark chocolate is good for you, you know. I use it for medicinal purposes.

And the cool thing about Dark Chocolate Cherry Cordials is that there's no need for a brown bag.

Feel free to indulge at will. In public, even.



Love to all,

Mad {madly!}


P.S. Countdown to A CHARMED DEATH: 4 days... {woot! woot!}

Sightings countdown!!!

All right, step right up, ladies and gents! The countdown for the publication of A CHARMED DEATH, #2 in the Bewitching series, commences today!

Seven... count them, SEVen days! { woot woot! }

And I've had two sightings already from readers, yay, so hie thee to the bookstores... you just never know!


IN OTHER NEWS...

In other news, I have accepted an offer with Berkley Prime Crime to continue writing the Bewitching mystery series. This new contract will take us out through book 6 in the series, which hopefully will go on for a very long time.

Snoopy dancing, one and all!




Mad {madly!}


P.S. A CHARMED DEATH.
December 5th.
Be there, or be square.
Bring a friend. {heh}

All the time in the world...

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Glynda. You know, the Good Witch of the North? All of my friends lusted after Dorothy's red shoes, but me? I never quite got past Glynda's sparkling dress, jeweled crown, and fairy wand. But most of all, I wanted her magic.

No one, but no one, wanted to be the Wicked Witch of the West.

I think it was the monkeys.

And then there was Samantha Stephens. Oh, to have the power to do magick with a little twitch of the lips. Instantaneous magick, where situations and people and things morph at the will of the witch in question. Now, I believe in magic and miracles. I do. But real life magic is quite the opposite of the Bewitched-style smirky-quirky-twitch. Slooooooow and requiring effort and greath strength of will and skill.

Instant gratification has its advantages.

And then there is Harry Potter and his wizarding friends, who point a carved stick at something, say a word of power or two, and BOOM. Flashes of light ricochet off the walls, impressive sounds come out of nowhere, and voila! Magical things happen. Coolness personified.

So, what supernatural powers would I choose? Faery glamours might come in handy -- I'd love to have the ability to change my appearance and demeanor at will to suit the occasion, or even to become invisible on the rare occasion I might make a Wal-Mart run sans makeup and run into someone I know. I'd love to be able to write 30 pages in six hours, heh -- that seems a bit like magic from where I'm sitting. Teleportation, yeah baby. Verrrrrrry handy, that. But the one thing I'd like best to be able to do is to manipulate time. As in, to make more of it, or to make something dull but necessary {can you say WORK? I thought you could...} pass faster.

Sign me up for Mistress of Time, please. I promise I'll be gentle.

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

On Acceptance of Things We May Not See...

Otherworldly beings . . .

For the longest time, I was the Queen of Denial, a product of our oh-so-sophisticated {heh} world. Faeries were a whimsical dream better left behind in childhood. Witches and their magick? Delusional they might be, but not supernatural. A good dose of Prozac might help. Ghosts, goblins, shadow creatures? Please.

Like Maggie, I was too skeptical for that.

I felt things, sure, but didn't everyone? There was a perfectly rational explanation for the things I experienced.

Perfectly. Rational.

I'm happy to say I've come a long way since then. Open to the experiences that are all around us, if we but open our eyes and really see. But it's taken time. It's taken courage. It's taken a hefty dose of my good friend, What If.

What if magic actually did exist? What if I could affect my reality, my perceptions, and bring change into my life by imagining it into being and believing not only that it is possible, but that it must be true? What if the dreams I have always had of other places, other times, other people, other me's, were also true? What if I hadn't misplaced the pencil I had in my hand a moment ago and later found in the kitchen, even though I was alone in the house and had not moved from the desk? Pixies, faeries, imps, sprites, poltergeists . . . what if they actually did cause some of the strange dislocations of objects?

My acceptance of these things and my own abilities as something beyond mythology and imagination was the first step of many toward Maggie's existence.

Welcome to my world. Come on in, the water's fine.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}

Wowzer...

You know, this kind of blows my mind, but ...

A reader emailed me to let me know that an advanced reading copy of A CHARMED DEATH was being sold on Ebay. This is your standard no-name author ARC, without a color copy of the cover. Bound with plain color card stock. Curiouser and curiouser, it ended up going for $16.27 plus shipping/handling. That, I guess, is what surprised me the most. On a paperback book that is coming out in a little under three months? I guess all I can do is hope that the book lives up to the expectations of the reader who bought it.

Although I must say... bless ALL of the readers who thought enough of me to bid. Over and over and over again.

Mad {madly!}

It's raining men . . . Hallelujah, it's raining men!

Not that it's all that shocking, and most of my readers have probably guessed as much by now, but I hereby admit freely to the world at large:

I like men.

A lot.

Some more than others, of course, and it has nothing to do with how a guy looks, but rather his attitude, his sense of humor and intelligence {they go hand in hand, doncha know}, his sense of ethics and honor. And yes, I'm fairly certain this affinity for the male half of the population spills over into my writing. Kind of in the same way a really good kiss has the ability to stay with you throughout the day.

Some authors enjoy writing ambiguous heroes. Others like their boys baaaaad. Still more want their men non-wimpy, who, despite that inclination, still let the heroine be in charge.

As for me? I like the unexpected.

We live in a world where things are not always what they seem. It's a theme that fascinates me, which I suppose is why it shows up in every aspect of the Bewitching series. Including the men -- but why should they be any different? Whether it's a businessman who dresses like a million bucks but wears his socks until they develop holes at the toe and heel, or a hard-nosed biker who demands that a lady be treated with all due respect. Or how about a male witch who loves old churches, an Amish furniture-maker who dowses for spirits, or a pig farmer with a degree in psychology who likes talking to his animals more than he does other people . . . They're all as diverse and quirky and real to me as the people I know in real life.

Not all of them are heroes, of course . . .

Currently my Maggie is finding herself attracted to two very different men for very different reasons. Tom is a straight-arrow cop, someone who sees the world we live in as being black and white. No shades of gray for this guy -- you play by the rules, always, and you'll come out ahead. It's the people who don't fit into those neatly labeled niches who give Tom fits. Like Felicity Dow, Maggie's boss, who by all outward appearances seems to be nothing more than a beautiful woman who is aging with elegance and dignity, but whose religious practices fall far outside Tom's comfort zone. Or, perhaps more importantly, like Marcus Quinn, Tom's antithesis and secret rival for Maggie's affection. A male witch with a penchant for black leather and snug denim, Marcus is edgy, a little dangerous, a lot mysterious, and he and Tom are like oil and water -- never the 'twain shall meet. The two hard-headed males are just fine with that, thankyouverymuch, to Maggie's constant bemusement. In fact, Marcus could not be more unlike Tom in Maggie's eyes. At least on the surface. Deep down, both hold dear the importance of justice, and both have great respect for Truth with a capital T. It's just that Tom's notion of truth tends to follow a worldly path, while Marcus is drawn to truth on a more cosmic level.

Which one will Maggie choose? Tom? Marcus? Or neither?

Ah, but my dears, that I cannot say. For me, part of the delight in the storytelling is the element of surprise and discovery.

Trust me . . . when Maggie makes up her mind, you'll be the first to know.

Love to all,


Mad {madly!}

Help... I need somebody, help... not just anybody...

I've come to a decision...

I've decided I'm not cut out for the writing world.

Well, I've decided that same thing several times in the last ten years, and every time I'm absolutely serious when I say it . . . so why doesn't it stick?

I'm a busy woman. Too busy. I have a husband, four active sons {two who will be on their way to college this upcoming week while my dh detours to Thailand, and two who just started their new school year today}, three perfect cats, an adorable dog who nevertheless is the most gleefully disobedient dog on the planet. I have a more than full-time job {necessary if I want to have a house to live in and food on the table}, a hubby who travels, and all of the bills, errands, and chores everyone else has -- although perhaps magnified just a bit, since I do live with five, count them, FIVE males, four of whom are between 6 foot 1 and 6 foot 5, which makes laundry a nightmare. {And did you know that our male counterparts don't see the messes that we do? It's genetic code, I'm told. By them. I don't know that I believe them.} I keep track of daily/weekly/monthly schedules for five other people. I have parents and inlaws who aren't always in the best of health, friends who drop hints about never having the time to get together, relatives whose feelings are hurt if we don't make Every Single Cookout held Every Single Holiday Weekend. Like everyone, I have vehicles that break down, home repairs that never seem to get done, yard work that I might enjoy if it didn't have the chance to get out of hand so darned quickly, doctor and dentist appointments, insurance claims to follow up on, paperwork for college financial aid . . . and on and on, ad nauseum.

Oh, and I write. I think.

So, you can probably see why I would come to this decision every now and again. I think it's probably a pathetic grasp toward regaining sanity in an out-of-control life.

How do you combat this? How do you find the joy in things you love when they become Gottas? And Fasters? The love is there, but it doesn't bubble up to the surface the way it usually does.

Methinks I need my Muse, or at least a fairy with an attitude, to chase the You Need Tos away.

All that being said, I do love the book I'm working on right now. Book 3 in the Bewitching series, with a never-before-used title I thought of all by my little lonesome, which WILL resonate with the Marketing Department, I do believe. But we'll see. No hints as yet, other than the fact that it features an Amish Lothario {yes, you heard that right}, folk magic, and good old-fashioned human failings that drive the plot to the bitter end.

Wishing you all a bit of fairy dust of your very own,

Mad {madly!}

Paranormal Heroines, or why my Maggie jumps when things go bump in the night...

Anyone who has been writing genre fiction for long is bound to encounter The Rules. You know, the ones that other writers toss around with great abandon, like: "Your hero/heroine must be strong. They have to always be active-slash-aggressive, take charge of the situations they find themselves in, and be in command of their lives. You can't write cross-genre -- no one will buy it. Better to stick with one in order to sell. You can't mix humor with darkness -- again, you have to choose to be either funny or dramatic."

My primary goal when I started the Bewitching series was to flush the rules down the toilet and write what felt right.

My Maggie is not a kickass heroine. {Which is not to say I don't love to read them -- I do. I just can't seem to write 'em!} She is a little on the neurotic side, knows enough to question her reactions when the situation warrants it, and is basically feeling her way through life. She isn't drop-dead gorgeous, she isn't model thin, and she doesn't have a smile that drops men to their knees. Her hair frizzes when the humidity is high, she gets sunburned way too easily, and when she doesn't like what she's doing, she tends to procrastinate. She has an acerbic sense of humor that sometimes comes out wrong, but would bite her tongue before purposely hurting anyone's feelings... especially her mother, who drives her crazy. And as she speeds toward her 30th birthday, she has a tendency to wonder if she ever will meet that certain someone.

In other words, she's normal. A person I can relate to.

She's also an intuitive empath. That's another thing I can relate to.

Psychic heroines are a lot of fun, but I wanted to give Maggie something a little bit different. It's always difficult to come up with someone who is fresh and new and yet as familiar to us as our own sisters, but to me that's what Maggie is. She's your average, everyday kind of girl who is still struggling to get somewhere in life when from out of nowhere she finds herself in some paranormally charged circumstances that throw her neat and tidy world view for a loop. But while the discovery of a shadow world hitherto unsuspected knocks her a bit off-balance, it also empowers her. She's always known she was different from everyone around her, but this is the first time she's felt... special. Suddenly things click into place. The kinds of experiences she has always had but used to dismiss as imagination or coincidence have turned out to be real. Otherworldly and a bit magical, yes, but real. And as Maggie is beginning to discover, she's a lot stronger at her core than she ever realized.

This contrast between inner and outer, light and dark, myth and reality, is what keeps me intrigued and keeps me writing. All I can do is hope readers will find it as compelling as I do.

Love to all,

Mad {madly!}