English as a Second Language

As most of you know, my parents came from Hungary and neither spoke any English when they arrived (yeah, noun-pronoun agreement. This is a casual essay; grow up). My father was an engineer who took a job as a janitor until he had rudimentary English. To the end of his life, his phone conversations in English consisted of saying "ja, ja," (which by the way isn't Hungarian) with the occasional "no" thrown in. My mother's oral English was always much better. I grew up with Chicago pronounced CHi-cago, we lived in the "vest"  and shopped at Wauns (Vons grocery, which makes no sense because Hungarian does have a v sound so why they switched the w and v sounds I'll never know.) The past tense with "did" was always used  incorrectly, as in, "I did went." And my favorite: the day my father walked into a Burger King and ordered a whooper, not a whopper. The poor woman behind the counter tried so hard to keep a straight face.

I laugh at the mistakes they made, not because I'm laughing at them. It's out of love. Really. English has to be the hardest language to master. With seven different pronunciations of "-ough", no common-sense spelling (really--Polish vs polish, wind, and a language where "ghoti" can be pronounced "fish"), where use of the subjunctive is considered too complex for regular language, where we have fake rules (never end a sentence in a preposition, conjunctions should never start sentences, never split an infinitive--these are all not real rules of English), where people will argue over "think" vs "thing", as in "you've got another think coming" (it's "think"--do the research), or that the phrase is "just deserts" not "just desserts" because the word comes from an archaic word desert (think "deserve"), and most native speakers have no idea what they're saying when they use the old adage "it's the exception that proves the rule" (that one necessitates the looking up of the definition of prove-what do you think a "proving ground" is?). 

So when my mother says nothing bad happened to her, "knock on the door", instead of on wood, or thinks the famous fruit in Atlanta is the Georgia plum, I laugh, and admire the heck out of her. Because she's willing to take a risk and communicate in a language that has many native speakers baffled.

Here's to the risk takers.

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:

The Sword-edged Blonde by Alex Bledsoe 

Is it bad...

Am I being closed-minded if I just don't want to watch/read certain shows, films, or books just because?

Take for instance the TV show Breaking Bad. There's no reason not to believe its hype. It's funny (at least I've been told the first couple of seasons are), well-written, has rounded characters, interesting story lines; it's critically acclaimed and its actors have received acting awards. It's even filmed in Albuquerque, my town, and the production company has brought money into the community. All good things. But I don't want to watch it. Stories about drugs are not my kind of thing. Stories about men who descend into darkness--not my kind of thing. So I haven't seen it, and despite having it on Netflix, I won't be watching it any time soon. I'm sure it deserves its accolades, but I don't want to watch it.

There are books that do the same. Every time I pick up a book I should read (Kite Runner, Life of Pi) I've been disappointed. It's not that I don't see the merit of the books, but when I read I want to be swept away. I don't want to search for its merits. I could see teaching these books, but not sitting down to read them for fun. My taste. I won't apologize for it.

And don't think I'm not as harsh on my beloved genre fiction books. I'd say more than half of them I read the first two, maybe three chapters, then just skim the rest to know what happens (unless I'm judging it for a contest; then I read every page). The book that carries me through page by page is a rarity. And one that is becoming more and more rare. So many things can pull me out of the story: a wrong fact, grammar errors (I mean the ones that aren't deliberate), and most of all lack of logic. I just finished judging a contest and the biggest errors I found in these unpublished manuscripts was lack of logic. People I know wouldn't behave a certain way without a good reason, and needed a behavior to further the story is not reason enough.

We all have our limits, buttons, narrow view. I'm trying to broaden mine when it comes to important things. But do I have to when it comes to entertainment? Am I being closed-minded?

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now (and although I don't usually write whether I'm enjoying them or not, I thought I should after today's post):

My Lady Mage by Alexis Morgan (And I'm truly enjoying it--reading every page.)

The Falcon and the Wolf

I've been quiet lately, missed a few weeks' posts. I don't have an excuse (being busy is not an excuse), but I have been working. In case you missed me, there's good news. I have a new book up on Kindle and Nook: THE FALCON AND THE WOLF. And you are not seeing things. I've published this under the name Gabi Anderson.

The Falcon and the Wolf

(Other formats coming soon)

This was my Golden Heart® finalist novel from way back when. I mean way back. Way back when paranormal romances were NOT selling and editors didn't know what to do with them. (Don't believe me? Karen Marie Moning writes the same thing in recounting her path to writing in her release Into the Dreaming) I wrote it for my daughter (who was three at the time, and, no, I didn't expect her to read it then).

Falcon is a fantasy romance that has always been dear to my heart. Here's a description:

A prophecy casts its shadow over two kingdoms—and over two people whose destinies are entwined even before their births.

Captured in a border skirmish, highborn Lady Stefanie Falkon arrives to the castle of Grayson, Lord Wolfe, her new master. Gray, a warrior out of duty to his king, believes in order and planning, and designing new innovations to help his people.

With her headstrong ways, Stefanie soon turns Gray’s organized world to chaos, disrupting his work his duty his goals. Despite her initial loathing of her master, Grayson, Lord Wolfe, she comes to recognize he isn’t the monster she’s made him out to be. In turn Gray learns to depend on the unusual and intelligent woman he reluctantly acquired.

But when a threat to both their lands arises, they must work together to save their world and find their own happy ending.

Please pick it up and spread the word. I'd love to have a success with this one. And then if you want more in that tone, try Temptation's Warrior, also available on Kindle, nook and other formats.

I hope you love Stefanie and Gray's story.

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:

Impossible to Resist by Janice Maynard

The Olympics

My parents were jocks. No seriously. They were. My dad played volleyball, (European) handball, and ran track in Hungary, and my mother was so good in European handball, that when they arrived in refugee camp in Vienna, a woman's team recruited her and actually paid her to play. When they arrived in the US, they didn't have much money, so they looked around for a sport they could play that didn't cost a lot of money. They chose tennis. Hey, back then, tennis was cheap--all you needed was a racquet, some balls, and a nearby park with courts.

They introduced my sister and me to sports at a young age. I started tennis lessons when I was six, and from that age on we tried just about any sport you could try--tennis, gymnastics, judo, ice skating (holy moly, that was bad), running, bicycling. It wasn't until seventh grade that I found the sport that truly spoke to me--volleyball, which I still play today--but throughout was tennis. The 'rents became outstanding players.

To their dismay, neither my sister or I became jocks. I was a total nerd, and she was popular (no hate mail that says popular kids can't be jocks or that jocks are the popular kids--you know what I mean.) Yes, I still play volleyball, but it's not the priority in my life as sports were in my parents life. My mother has taken up golf in her, shall we call them her upper years, and underwent knee replacement surgery so she could continue to play.

So when the Olympics came on, my father and mother watched every minute they could. In 1972, we traveled to Europe (to visit family) but we made a special trip to the Munich Olympic park just so we could walk through it. And among their friends, they count two different medal winners--a gymnast who won two golds and a silver, and a canoer who won two silvers. So, yes, I have seen actual Olympic medals.

That first Olympics after my father's death was actually pretty special because watching them was like having him back. So to this day, I watch as much as possible because, well, I miss my dad, and in watching, I can be close to him again.

Enjoy the games,
--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
A Night to Surrender by Tessa Dare
Sunruse Point by Robyn Carr

I love Cheese

No, not the dairy kind (Actually, I do love the diary kind too). I mean the emotional schmaltz that brings sappy tears to the eyes or laughter to the lips or cheers to the throngs. Let's face it: the world would be a better place if it were cheesier. We'd have more happy endings, more villains getting their just deserts, more moments of laughter, more real causes to root for, more fun.

Things on my list of sublime cheesiness: flash mobs ; Disney movies; Hallmark commercials; superheroes; happy endings; puppies; balloons; showy proposals; old people holding hands; romance novels. How can you not like them? Cheesy things make the world livable, renew your faith in mankind, and just give you a warm feeling overall.

Ballons a group of readers surprised me with yesterday. The blue one says "Make a Wish"

So I hereby promise to live my life with all the cheesy goodness I can. I will forget on occasion, I'm sure, but long live the cheese. Life is too short to take it too seriously.
--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

You want to see me in person, right?

In about two weeks I will be in Anaheim at the RWA National Convention. There will be a huge signing (HUGE--400 plus authors) on July 25 at the Anaheim Convention Center from 5:30 PM to 8:00 PM. No outside books will be allowed because this is a signing for literacy. All proceeds go to combating illiteracy in America, with a portion going to a local agency. Authors won't be set up in alphabetical order, however. All attendees will be given a map, and each table will have a number.  So be sure to look for me under Gabi Stevens. A little complicated, but we all know romance readers are smart.

In addition, I'm speaking at the conference on Saturday afternoon (July 28) at 12:45 PM on "The Meaning of Life: Theme." I love this topic. ALl about the meaning of the books we love to read. Yes, despite what you may think, all books have themes and I'm going to help my listeners suss out the meanings of theirs. Honestly, we don't set out to write about meaning--we just try to tell a story--but it happens anyway. Remember back in school when you used to question your teachers whether the author meant to put such meaning into their books. Of course they didn't. It happens anyway. And that's what I'm talking about.

I hope I'll see some of you in Anaheim. I may be tired at the signing. If all goes as planned, I'm doing Disney the day before. :)

And a month after RWA I'll be in Albuquerque at Bubonicon, but more on that later.

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
The Black Prism by Brent Weeks

Becoming a curmudgeon...

Questions I've been pondering lately:

Why are all the voices in my head speaking to me in first person when I like third person books?

How does one change his or her luck? (And don't tell me, "be prepared," because that's already taken care of)

Why does bread have to taste so good? (And on the same note, why are vegetables so yucky?)

Why do we tell children to act their age, then as adults tell ourselves never to grow up?

Why do people want flying cars? Do you really want the idiots on the road to be flying above your head?

Whether or not you "believe" in global warming is irrelevant. Can't we agree that coming up with an alternative to spewing poisons in the air, protecting the earth, and removing the influence of huge corporations from government is a good thing? (I'm not saying "no oil", I'm saying research is good.)

Why am I so freaked out by insects when I'm a gagillion times bigger than they are?

When did I develop my fear of heights that nearly crippled me climbing the towers of Europe last summer? (I have sworn never to climb a tower again--although I can come up with at least a dozen scenarios in my writer's brain which would compel me to break that vow--so I can honestly say that the Leaning Tower of Pisa is the last tower I shall ever climb.)

How can I love liverwurst, but hate liver; love almonds (and these great Hungarian almond cookies), but hate Amaretto (same goes for hazelnuts and Frangelico); love pickles, but not relish; cook with olive oil, but hate olives; hate coffee (black), but love coffee ice cream?

When is it officially okay to become a curmudgeon? 

--Gabi

Books I"m reading now:

The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman

The Queen of Babble Gets Hitched by Meg Cabot