Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Light and Fluffy


My taste runs toward light and fluffy. White cake with white icing (Gad, I'm boring); anything with whipped cream (heck, cream with whipped cream); action movies, not art films; comedies over tragedies (anything over gangster/ police/ Martin Scorsese). Maybe I should remove the adjective "light." I can see the value in a lot of "heavy" things, but if I have to "see" the value, it's not for me.

Don't judge. Aw heck, go ahead and judge me. You'd be wrong. I have to face reality every day, so I make no apologies for my taste. It's only too bad that so do feel they have to make judgments. Heck, just by writing this blog, I'm making a judgement of sorts.

Recently I took a new job teaching two different classes. I had to start nine weeks into the school year and finish teaching books chosen by another teacher. One book I truly like, but it really was too elementary for the grade I was teaching. So while I enjoyed revisiting the book, it was frustrating at times. The other book was written by one of my favorite authors, but it's a book I truly don't enjoy. It's the one that is taught in almost every school because it's heavy and considered his classic. I prefer his other more enjoyable tomes and stories with the same messages but with brighter tones. At least I've finished teaching that particular book and have moved on to something I've chosen.

Aw, well. We all have different tastes. Within my own family, I have a husband who prefers non-fiction, a daughter who loves the deep, angsty stuff, one who reads like me but more fantasy, and a non-reader. And I won't even mention my mother. At least they all read my books because they love me. That's good enough for me.
--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
Behemoth By Scott Westerfeld, illus. by Keith Thompson
Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, illus. by Keith Thompson

Monday, November 19, 2012

In Praise of Boxes



I like boxes. All kinds of boxes. Think about it. Receiving a box in the mail is almost always a treat. A package expected or better unexpected contains something you bought, or something someone bought for you. Fun, in my opinion.

Little blue boxes (Tiffany, not that I've ever received one of those) have to be a treat. In fact most little boxes are nice. They might contain anything from a ring to Nerds to Milk Duds (or Junior Mints!) to stationery to paper clips. All fun.

And since I'm not much of a cook, boxes mean dinner for me. Tonight, for example, I made Red Beans and Rice from a box. Before you turn up your nose at it, remember, I'm not from New Orleans, I'm first generation American, and without the box I wouldn't enjoy any red beans and rice at all. Doughnuts come in a box if you buy enough of them (Krispy Kremes, mmmmmmm), and cake boxes, those pretty soft pink ones tied with string (Do they still have those?) are truly beautiful.

My favorite tea room here in town gives you a cute little box to pack your dainty bites into and then they pack it into a lovely gift bag, one of which has be serving as my lunch bag for the past two weeks. Tomorrow will be its last day, I'm afraid. Its integrity has been compromised, but the little box I still have waiting for me to tuck something into it.
Presents come in boxes. Who doesn't love a present? And shoes come in boxes. I love shoe boxes. I loathe throwing them out because they seem like they could be so useful for. . .something.

Boxes fool me into thinking I might actually become organized one of these years. I will clean out that closet and put things into boxes that I can't get rid of but no longer need on the shelf. (Hahaha. That's a fine joke. Me. Cleaning a closet and organizing).

Best box of all? When a box of books comes from the publisher showing off your latest work. Sigh. I wish I received those more often.

--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Cold


We had our first dusting of snow last night. I'm not a big fan of cold. I've been known to take two-hour baths just to soak up the heat. Of course I'm too cheap and environmentally frugal to turn up the thermostat either. If you can't tell from the previous sentences, I'm not a big fan of winter. I don't ski, skate, or participate in biathlons, I don't like bundling up, and I don't often indulge in coffee, tea, or hot chocolate.

And yet I find the pictures of snow-covered homes nestled in white woods strangely compelling and comforting. I think I'm attracted to the myth of winter rather than the actuality. I love the thought of a cozy fire (we haven't lit one in at least two years), hands wrapped around a warm mug (see statement above), wearing a big, warm fuzzy sweater (body image issues get in the way), watching snow fall from behind a window. Yeah, reality tends to muck up the myth. Slipping on the road while driving, the dogs wiping their muddy paw prints on my carpeting (snow doesn't stay on the ground long here, so the backyard turns to mud), no cookies baking in the oven (I don't like to bake; heck I don't like to cook, but that's a whole other rant), the wind cutting through the layers and there's always that one inch of exposed skin on your face no matter what you do. My nose runs, my eyes sting, my feet and fingers don't warm up until May.

After careful analysis, I think I need to live in a climate controlled bubble. I am such a whiner.
--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks
Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet by Darynda Jones

Saturday, October 27, 2012

The Quirks of Fate


My life is in upheaval now. Okay, I'm being melodramatic. I do have a new job however. A variety of things came together--I'll call it the perfect storm to continue in the melodramatic vein--which required a larger cash flow into my life. So I returned to teaching. On the one hand, I truly enjoy teaching. On the other, it's sucking away all my time and energy. As you can tell by my lack of posting last week. But I'm hoping I'll fall into a routine soon, that things will level out quickly and I'l be back regularly.
In the meantime, here's a picture of a fish.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

Balloon Fiesta


Guessing game today. Today was the last day of Balloon Fiesta, an annual event here in Albuquerque. I've been just about yearly since we moved here and take far too many pictures when I go. Don't worry, I won't subject you to them all here (Go to my Facebook page if you want to see the 77 I posted out of the 137 I took), but here are two shots. Can you guess what they are?
What can this be?
Here's the other (This one's easier):
Uhhhh?
And here are your answers:
The Lion King
I don't think that's the real name for the balloon (they all have names, but I don't know them). Half the fun is making up names for the balloons you see. Of course, it's really hard to be original when you wake up at God-awful thirty to get to Balloon Fiesta Park (worth it, but I love my morning sleep).
And here's number two:
Spidey Pig
The Balloon is always awesome--when the weather cooperates. I don't think I'll ever tire of it, and as long as I'm in Albuquerque, I'll attend.
And one more random shot, because it's the coolest balloon (da-da-da, da-de-da, da-de-da --you'll understand the tune when you see the picture):
Vader!
--Gabi
Books I'm reading now:
Only Yours by Susan Mallery

Friday, October 5, 2012

Math is Your Friend


Lately I've been reading contemporaries, and I've found errors. Not grammatical, although there have been some of those as well, but math errors. Many of us authors are older, shall we say middled-aged, and what I've noticed is our age peeking through. What I mean is we haven't been careful with our math.

Math, you say? That's why I'm a writer: so I don't have to do math. Not so fast, grasshopper. Math is everywhere, and it's important to the logic of the story.

Here's an example. A character appears in a contemporary and likes or enjoys something that they are too young to like. Recently I read a 2011 novel where the 30 year-old heroine blasted Bon Jovi. Now she can like Bon Jovi but some consideration or explanation was necessary to explain her predilection for that particular band. It's 2011. Subtract thirty years, you get 1981, the year she was born. Most likely her favorite band would be someone she listened to when she was, say, 15-18. Late teens. That's the band she would rock out to. Someone like Alice in Chains, Nirvana, or whatever . While Bon Jovi was  performing in the 1990's (and still is), the choice of it still feels a decade off.

Second example: a story from 2012. A seventy-five year old women is described as being cool and calm, someone who wouldn't even swoon over Valentino. Valentino was a heartthrob in the 1920s. A seventy-five year old would have been born in 1937, after Valentino was dead. Let's say eighteen again for the age of swooning. That puts us at 1955. GIrls swooned over Brando and James Dean in the 50's. Or Rock Hudson if you liked the clean-cut type. Or even Elvis. But not Valentino.
I
 have a third example from a historical manuscript I read. The author made allusions to actors who would have been children (9 or 10) at the setting of the novel. Not good.

So do the math. Really. Even in writing.
--Gabi

Books I'm reading now:
Finding Her Son by Robin Perini

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Errors in Books


I'm writing this as a self-professed Grammar Nazi.

LIGHTEN UP.

I defy you to find a book without an error in it. I defy you, no matter how much you understand English (and yes, although I am all for learning and speaking and using other languages, this is about English), to write 400 pages and make no mistakes. I defy you to read, re-read, edit, revise, have others look at it, re-read again, and still not find errors in your manuscript. For example, in my last book, WISHFUL THINKING, I was at the galley-proof stage (the point where they send you your book the way it will appear on the page, usually a pdf file), and I still found 147 errors. I know. I counted. But there are degrees of errors, and I put it to you that most are forgivable.

A missing comma here or there shouldn't cause you to write an angry letter. In fact, I know some  publishing houses that omit commas on purpose. It's the house "Style."  Just yesterday I read that one house forbids their authors from using semi-colons. Their reasoning? That genre fiction is supposed to pull the reader in; semi-colons stop the reader and interrupt the flow (See how I did that there?). I have to admit that rule made me cringe. You can't ban semi-colons. That's like the time I was kicked out of textbook training when I was teaching because I wouldn't agree to disagree about what a verb is. But we are trying to make the writing accessible. Grammar and punctuation rules can fly out the window then.

I know I make errors when I write.  Sometimes because I think too fast for my fingers to type ( I never had typing in school. Somehow I skipped that required class). I skip words, or put in part of a word (like par for part) that is a word and my brain, knowing what to expect, fills in the blank. Have you seen those Internet memes that tout your amazing abilities to decipher words written with jumbled inner spelling or numbers replacing letters or backwards? It's supposedly a sign of your intelligence. No, it isn't. It's your brain trying to make sense of what it sees and working the way it should.

Sometimes I spell things wrong. I have never been a speller. Spelling is not grammar. I could go on about the seven different pronunciations of "ough", the silent "b", or why "ghoti" spells "fish", but I've done that before. How the "t" in often was said, then silent, and now it's back. Or not. Both are standard. What kind of language allows you to do that anyway? English, that's what. I've always considered spelling a torture. When I write a novel I do look up every word I may have possible spelled wrong, but I may overlook some because I'm utterly convinced I have it right. And that's not even worrying about "pore" vs "pour",  or "hear, hear" vs. "here, here" (By the way, those are the ones that throw me right out of a story--the homonyms used in place of the correct word).

Sometimes things are left out by the printer. In my second novel, my galleys contained a chapter that wasn't even from my book. Another time a chapter was repeated. I taught DANDELION WINE to my eighth graders. The books we used were missing a couple of paragraphs at the end of one of the chapters. That wasn't done by the author.

The errors I cannot forgive are content errors. When a character is a certain age, but that doesn't work out mathematically (Don't ask me why I catch math errors; I just do). When the character is a widow in one chapter and divorced a few chapters down. When the story is set in a certain year and then people or events are mentioned that couldn't have taken place in that year (unless it's alternate reality; then that's fine). I've seen these mistakes in books I've read.

And some of the mistakes are the readers'. I once used the word "posh" in a novel set in 1845. I knew the word wasn't in existence then (yeah, I look that sort of thing up), but it was close enough to the time period that I fudged it. Someone had to use it first, right? Well, a reader called me on it and gave me the "origin" of the word. It was that cute Internet story about  the English traveling to India on a ship, Port Out, Starboard Home, so they'd know which side of the ship to have their cabins to avoid the sun. Only problem is that story's not true. I had a friend correct me on "if you think X, then you have another think coming." She wanted me to write "thing". Nope, sorry, that's wrong. (See what I did here with the commas--for effect) And just recently another friend pointed out I'd written "just deserts" wrong. Nope again. It is "just deserts", not "just desserts". And would you say, for example: "she is hungrier than me"? That would be incorrect.

And you see how I'm putting the quotes inside the punctuation? That's the British way, and frankly makes a helluva lot more sense than the American way, so I'm starting the trend. (In certain instances, like these.)

I just read an article about the physicist Paul Dirac. He had some quirks, but when he read WAR AND PEACE his only comment about he novel was that Tolstoy had made the sun rise twice in one day. (Mental Floss, Jan-Feb 2010).  So you see, authors, editors, copy editors, translators (I read the German version of Harry Potter and they translated cat's whiskers as a mustache), they're all human. You may get a thrill at finding an error, but get over it. That's kind of petty. (I know, because I have to admit I get a thrill and feel superior when I find errors. I'm not proud of myself.).

Read the book and enjoy it. That's why we write. I won't even go into how ungrammatical speech is here.
--Gabi, who really doesn't proofread blog articles.

Books I'm reading now:
Vampire in Atlantis by Alyssa Day