The outside world silenced the moment the ancient door closed behind me to Saint Paul’s Cathedral. My place of peace still brings calm to my mind as I dip my fingers in the cool holy water and cross myself before taking a seat in the last pew.
I’m far from religious, but the only place I have been able to clear my head is a church. Specifically an old Catholic Church. Other newer churches, just don’t do it. The noise of the city penetrates through the walls and sullies the serene bubble. Where better to empty one’s thoughts and be alone for awhile than a beautiful piece of art?
I say I’m not religious, but I do know some of the rituals and I guess you could say my time spent sitting in bliss as Eucharistic Adoration. I’ve never had a eureka moment or clarifying call, but it makes me feel safe and content.
Once my hour was up, don’t want to overstay my welcome, I stood up to leave, bracing myself for the chaos on the other side of the door. “What do I do now?” I ask myself aloud.
As I walk down the street my thoughts turn to this morning and how great it was. If I had taken another turn on the Eye or had been paying more attention to my surroundings, I never would have met Barrowman. I kept my promise, though if was tough, no pictures or questions. No proof of our meeting, and it sucks but it was still the best hours of my life.
My feet brought me to a charming sci-fi shop proudly displaying Doctor Who and Torchwood merchandise in the window. I had to stop in and spend a little mad money. I have time to kill before dinner and what geek-girl can resist her guilty pleasure?
I am at the cash register with a mock trench coat, when I get a text from an unknown number. “Plans for dinner?”
“Depends, who is this?” I swipe my card and wait for an answer. There is only one guy I gave my number to recently and know he wouldn’t be the one.
“Forgot about me already? I’m really beginning to wonder if you are a fan.”
“Holy shit.” I gasp.
“What? Wrong size?” the cashier asked a little worried.
“What? Oh no, the coat is perfect. I just heard from someone I never thought I’d see again.” I babbled, staring at my phone. “Well if you could see what I just bought, your mind would be at ease.” I joke with him. I slipped the coat on and walked out.
“Come to dinner and show me? I need to repay you for your help, support and lunch.”
“Chapter One. Not too fancy, but nice and great food. Two hours give you enough time to clean up and get there? Need to talk with my husband.”
“Sounds good.” I leave for the hostel and to prepare for a fun evening.
“See you there Chandler.”
Tune in next week for Chapter Four
There is glass everywhere. The doors, walls and even some squares of the checkered pattern floor are made of glass. Someone has hung posters of different shows with a few floral prints in-between, to distinguish the walls from doors.
The bustling women dress with enough class they seem to be from another time, a more refined era. The men flitted about dressed in sharply tailored suits, belt only no suspenders here. I am too caught up in the wonder of it all I trip over my own feet and almost John down with me.
John informed an angry gnome-looking colleague about what he was doing and who I am while I worked through the shiny breakable surroundings. I am beginning to feel like a bull in a window shop, the tables were also made of frosted glass.
I felt him tug on my shirt sleeve, “Do you need some water or something while we’re here?”
I shook my head no and pecked a short message to him, “I’m good. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait outside if you don’t need me.” I smiled weakly, nodding to a hard gray office chair. I’d be out of the way and still nearby if he wanted help. Two nodded and went to meet six people sitting at a sharp oval table.
Carefully sitting down, I pulled my mangy copy of “Love & Drugs” out of my MARINES messenger bag and began reading. I may be on an adventure but I’m always prepared for downtime. It becomes a habit when you spend as much time in a hospital waiting to hear if your mom is going to be ok from her latest “accident” as I do…did.
Mom had fifty-two trips to the hospital by my twenty-first birthday, and a couple of months ago she had a final incident with my dad’s baseball bat. Needless to say, childhood wasn’t that great. Thankfully I was the only casualty of that toxic life. I am trying to start a new life with a new college in a new country.
Shouts snapped me out of memory lane, John looked angry. The others had a range of anger, bored and frustration. I put my book away and grabbed my phone then walked into the room. “Excuse me, is everything ok n here?”
The grumpy gnome started barking, “You’re his handler, tell him this isn’t working. Either take out the hearing device or sit quietly in a corner.”
John looked at me, confused. I handed him my phone with the text open, “give me a second.” I turned to the rest of the board. “Is this how your meetings usually go? Mr. Barrowman just sits in a corner with no input on how his life goes? I don’t believe it.” My own experience with my friend being mistreated was coming up ticking me off even more. “I highly doubt that. He is doing some research for a charity an you are asking him to forsake that because you don’t want to find a way to work with a disability?
“I’m sorry, but he is a wonderful person and you are an evil little man who should know better! Going under the assumption that you were more than likely picked on in high school. I don’t know how you got this far in life, but you need to change the way you deal with people. Let him do what he normally does and find a way to converse with him.” I jabbed my finger onto the table to drive my point home before telling John everything was okay and to finish his meeting.
I went back to my chair outside the room, glaring at the man, letting him know I will step in if he doesn’t do as I say. Secretly, I am scared shitless and hoping that I didn’t screw anything up for John. It took a few hours, but John finally finished his meeting (they started writing things down for him) and we left for lunch.
I managed to talk, err…text, him into just fish and chips from a street vendor instead of a fancy restaurant. Mostly so I could say that I took him out, hey it is a fantasy full-filling day so why not? After we went to a dog park to wait for a guide dog.
Once the German Shepherd arrived I gave him my number ad took my leave. He was in safe…paws for the rest of the day and I had a date with a Cathedral.
Tune in next week for Chapter Three
It doesn’t have a title, yet, but I have a fanfiction that has been running around my head for a while now, and won’t go away. I figured it is time to get it out.
All the fanfiction that I know about covers books or movies, never have I seen one strictly for a celebrity. So this might be a bit unconventional, possibly borderline stalkers, but who hasn’t had a crush on a star and fantasized about them? Granted they were probably smart enough not to mention it on their blogs.
I’m going to attempt to post a chapter a week, but may not always be able to post back to back, so apologies in advance, if for some reason you like it.
The question now is do I tell you who it is about or wait until I release chapter one?
It’s about a regular girl, Chandler Arizona Forbes, who takes time out of her vacation to help her celebrity crush when her life changes. She gets taken for a wild ride and earns a new family along the way.
So for the past couple of days I’ve been this little marketing slut, at least that is what I feel like. Not that I mind, I love helping authors out, but how much is too much? I have probably sent out 20-30 invites for an Author Spotlight Interview, and happily have roughly 5-10 lined up so far. Yay! But every time I post my inquiry, I’m starting to feel like I’m pimping myself out or something.
After posting 4 or 5 posts in a row I feel like I’m imposing myself on the authors. I know we all like free exposure, but is it awkward to be approached by a complete stranger asking you to email them? Maybe I’m just paranoid, but that comes from being told not to talk/email strangers.
But how else do you get your name out there without knocking on a few doors? I’ve been spreading the news, and it is paying off! In little ways but it’s something. I’m making new friends left and right, or at least acquaintances, that are helping me get the word out about my books. Who knew this could be fun?
Side note: I have been “rejected” by two famous and favorite authors. One was a definite no as he is too busy, but that’s to be expected. The other is a possible no. I need to go through her people before it is a hard no. It was a long shot but you never know what could happen.
So how do you prefer to be contacted?
Overview: Isabel Raines is an author, and happily married to Marcus Raines living in New York City. Problem is Marcus Raines is not who he says he is, throwing Isabel’s life into chaos. Everywhere she turns a dead body appears as she chases after her “husband.” After a head injury and two hospital visits, on the lead of a dying man, she heads to Prague with best friend and marketing agent Jack. Hoping to find Marcus, she visits the orphanage where he grew up and lands in the man’s clutches. Making a daring escape, and being shot, she is given many answers to her unending questions but never the answer burning inside her since the day her father died “why?”
Opinion: I love it, but kind of didn’t like it at the same time. For instance, because we jump between Isabel, her sister Linda, the cop on the case and sometimes Marcus and a few others; the point of views get jumbled and it is hard to figure out who we are following. Then because of all the POV’s we get a ton of back story for each character. While everything comes out in the wash, I think that a few things would have been best left out. That would help move the story along faster and maybe not leave the feeling of being rushed in the ending. I mean it took close to 300 pages just for Isabel to finally make progress. Other than that, the story was good and kept you very interested.
Week one was nice, my official count is up to well over 17,000 words. The first ten chapters are completed, chapter 11 is under way and the last two chapters are under construction.
Going into week two, I feel as if I have hit a road block. First, NaNoWriMo is a time to turn off your inner editor and just write. Well guess what? My inner freaking editor doesn’t have a shut off valve!!! I have this nasty habit of editing as I go and do it without realizing. Second, I chapter nine was good, ten ok and eleven is feeling like total crap. Chrissy, my MC, is off in a corner falling apart and Drake (L.I.) is hiding in his coffin. Villian #1, Sasha, is up to something but not too forthcoming, and villain #2 (Ben) has gone off the reservation.
This always happens, the closer I get to the middle it’s like my brain decides to melt and I have to shift stories. At least until this jar of juice refills. However if I switch stories during November, I feel as if I am cheating on my story and wasting time I could be spending on the month’s progress. So what the heck do I do? Put it on the back burner to avoid crappy writing? Or keep going and screw up my book? Yes I could keep going, and somehow, something good could come out of it. But at the same time I could screw myself over by thinking something I wrote while half asleep at four in the morning on no sleep, is a great idea. Or I could put it aside for a bit and possibly not finish my goal.
Honestly I don’t see why we couldn’t be able to have the choice to focus on two or more novels in a month. We could up the word goal 50K (or something) for each novel we plan on undertaking. I mean I can’t be the only one that burns out on one story at some point in the month am I?
Am I really the only one that burns out when focusing on just one story at a time? Does that make me a bad author for wanting needing to focus on more than one piece at a time or am I just insane?
Overview: A Jewish family living in a poor village, just trying to live their lives. Tavye, the patriarch has five girls to we’d and give a dowry to but he just sells milk and delivers it with a lame horse and trailer. The oldest daughter is able to marry the man she loves, while a Yente tries to fix the younger girls up with eligible bachelors. They rebel their suitors and break tradition, a very powerful thing Tavye holds very dear. All while fearing the Czar doesn’t invade their little Russian town.
Opinion: I first watched this in high school, and instantly fell in love with it. Tavye is such a great dad, wanting the best for his daughters as long as it follows tradition. He is also funny! I respect the traditional dances but to an uncultured high schooler, his shimmying (can’t believe that’s an actual word) during my favorite song, “Rich Man” is hilarious.
It’s not just the dancing that he does that is funny, but some things he says or the way he says it. I particularly enjoy his questioning of God, without actually questioning his existence. It’s something I’ve always been told not to do. If you believe in God, you can’t question his actions…or in-actions.
Another favorite song is “Matchmaker.” It is the Yente’s job to find husband’s for girls. However this Yente has a problem of making matches the girls don’t like. The girls go from wanting her to find them a match to not being in a big hurry.
Tzeital, the eldest daughter, reminds me so much of Barbara Streisand. However i find the middle daughter’s voice sounds clearer.
Comedy aside, I see the tragedy of losing special traditions and tearing a family apart as the result. My family has always been close but never as close or held many traditions as those of any faith let alone the Jewish faith.
I love the choreography of the Russian dancers during “L’chaim To Life.”