My name's not Earl

I'm a big fan of the show "My Name is Earl," which (alas) is only shown in reruns now. I love the cast, the snappy dialogue, the quirky plots and most of all, The List.
The premise of the show is that Earl, a scam artist and general ne'er do well, wins the lottery and has a revelation: Karma wants him to make up for all the bad things he did. Well, my name's not Earl, but in case karma comes looking for me, I need to confess.
When I was in second grade, I stole a 2-cent piece of bubble gum from the little restaurant uptown in what passed as a business district in my tiny hometown of 450 souls.
Whew. I feel better with off my chest. But unlike Earl, I can't make up for my bad thing. The restaurant is long ago closed, its owners gone to that great diner in the sky. And, yes, I suppose every kid swipes something at one time or another,
One of mine once tried to take a toothbrush from a drugstore. Luckily, this was another small town and they called me. The Kid was crying and fearful when I got there, but that was the end of Kiddo's shoplifting career.
My late husband told me a little story about how he took an orange from the grocery store when his family went shopping. When his father spotted the orange, he dragged Hubby back and made him apologize. That, he said later, was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
Me, I had to learn the lessons on my own. The weight of my guilt was heavy as I sat in Sunday School, staring at the poster of the 10 Commandments and that biggie, Thou Shall Not Steal. And yes, I hid that little piece of the past as I warned my kids of the wages of sinning by stealing.
You know, I feel much better since I've confessed. And in the spirit of Earl, I believe I'll make my amends in the right way. I'm going to buy a huge box of bubble gum and add it to my monthly donation to the local food bank.
And then I can move on to making up for all those other stupid things I've done in life.

Maybe they're looking for me!

In the last week or so, there's been a flurry of UFO sightings in our little section of Kentucky, with folks weighing in pro and con. The local newspaper has fueled the fuss with a couple of stories and a photo from an iPad taken of a supposed UFO through a car window.
I'm one of those people who spent the appropriate period of mourning the demise of "The X-Files," and still long for another, perfect show like that to come along. (Yes, please feel free to comment with your personal favorite X-Files episode. I'd love to know!)
A few weeks ago, I sat down with a 16-year-old to watch the 25th-anniversary edition of one of my favorite films of all time, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind." Much to my relief, she liked it so well she told people what a great film it was.
I was raised by parents who had copies of Fate magazine on their bedside table, and I still remember the summer night at the drive-in theater (yes, I'm that old) when my sister and I were certain we saw a UFO hovering over our small town.
So it was that I was called to make a pilgrimage to Roswell, New Mexico, a few years ago while visiting a friend. And, of course, I came back with the usual tourist photos. Here's one:

And then here's my photographic proof that despite what the government tell us, Area 51 does exist. (Please keep in mind that this was the period in which the alien sensors in my head thought I'd look better as a blond. That device has now gone dormant and I'm back to my familiar long, dark hair.)

So you tell me. Do UFOs exist, or are we all being fooled by the government's weather balloons and secret experimental aircraft?


Cammie

P.S. I understand that the aliens grabbed up some Kindles while they were visiting here. Like them, you can also read my Shadow Ancient series from Resplendence Publishing on your e-reader. They especially enjoyed "Hell's Belle," available from Amazon, Fictionwise and other e-book retailers.
 

Oh, come on, Mama Nature!

Although I write about vampires and others things that roam the dark hours, I am definitely NOT a child of the night. I adore sunlight and heat; my idea of a perfect summer day is basking in the sun on some white-sand beach with a sexy cabana boy bringing me drinks.

So I assume that Mother Nature hates me. Otherwise, why in the world would she continue to submit me to gray day after gray day?

I can handle the rain. I can handle the snow. I can even handle those days when rain turns into ice which then becomes fat flakes of snow. What I can't handle is week after week of that with nothing brightening the world but street lights.

Our local weather man explained that it's not really a bad winter, it's because we so many warm and sunny days late into the fall. Well, that's nice, but it doesn't make me feel any better. What would make me feel better is our local weather man announcing that tomorrow's temperature will be 70 degrees and we better put on some sunscreen.

A few weeks ago, I seriously considered escaping to the south, to visit my niece in Louisana. I haven't seen her for a couple of years, and not seen her new baby at all. She says her door is open and I'm sure I could find a motel somewhere close, since she lives in a city.

I'm glad I didn't jump in the car and start down the Interstate, because about the time I decided to leave all this behind, the south was slammed with a winter freeze and snow. In fact, one day it was warmer in Alaska than Florida said, yes, my local weather man.

I know I could find comfort on the warm beaches of Hawaii, which would be perfect since I don't have to have a passport to go there. But with all the vivid description of the new airport screenings, I'm a little hesitant to fly right now. Not that I mind a good pat down now and again, but I prefer from someone I love and not a stranger with latex gloves.

So I guess that leaves me with two choices: endure or bribe Mother Nature.

Do you think she'd take Old Man Winter for a little fling if I got them a classy suite in Vegas?

Bagels and bologna

Yesterday marked the third anniversary of Dear Hubby's death. He fought stage 4 melanoma for 10 months and died peacefully at home, with those he loved around him.

In some ways, it seems like forever. Incredibly supportive of my writing, he died before my first book was published. I like to think that he's looking down from a cloud somewhere, nodding his head and saying, "About time,  babe."

In other ways, it seems like yesterday. Every so often I come across a piece of his clothing in the closet, and there are times I roll over in the night and pat his side of the bed, forgetting he isn't there.

Since he's not here to read this, I can confess that I have a thing for bad boy heroes and, yeah, he was kinda the impiration. He was, after all, the ultimate bad boy when I met him. Being young, impressionable and in love, I loved to hear his stories of derring-do -- street racing and fist fights mostly. And yes, like my heroines, I helped tame him a little. He was a great husband, a wonderful father and a dependable friend.

Darling Hubby never met a stranger. He held court on our front porch, chatting with everyone who walked by. It wasn't unusual for me to come home and find the neighbors sitting on the wide porch rail while Hubby sat in his favorite porch chair smoking his pipe,.

My kids have always joked that they never starved when I went out of town. Their dad had a limited cooking repertoire -- eggs, fried potatoes, hamburgers and bologna sandwiches -- but he always made plenty of it.

Last night, my critique group  met at a local coffee shop, so I ordered a bagel in honor of Hubby, who loved their cinnamon-raisin variety. And tomorrow, to commemorate Hubby's lasting influence on our lives, the kids and I are having lunch together after church.

The menu?

Bologna on white bread with mustard and thick slices of onion and potato salad, his very favorite.

Where did the decade go?

My wise grandmother warned me once that the older you get, the faster time goes. I understand now, since it seems like only yesterday I was greeting 2010 and now here we are, in the second decade of the 21st century.
I suppose I ought to make some resolutions. But we all know, don't we, that I'll never keep them. I fear I'm too impulsive for long-term change.
I am not, however, without discipline. That's good, since I have two books to finish for publication this year. The first is Blood Oath, the fourth in my Shadow Ancient series. I love my vampires, I really do, but I'm moving in a different direction with Claimed.
That one, which will come out in the second half of 2011, includes our mysterious Guardian Protective Services, better known as the agency. But the heroine is half-Valkerie, on the run with a jaded free agent for Guardian who connects himself to her with an ancient Sumarian binding spell.
2010 was a great year for me as a writer, but it was also pretty good personally. Despite last year's lack of resolutions, I managed to lose a little weight, I've whittled down my debts and managed to clean out a good chunk of the basement.
All in all, a pretty good year ... and I'm waiting in anticipation to see what the new year begins.

Did you miss me?

I'm back blogging after a long haul of doctors and treatments that started two months ago when my (usually) kind family doctor forbid me to use a computer. I guess,when a patient shows up with hands that don't work and pain up her arms, it might lead a medical professional to suspect carpal tunnel.

Yep, got that. Also have something I never heard of before called thoracic outlet syndome, and arthritis in my hands. After making visits to a neurologist and a hand specialist, I've gotten nerve tests, special exercises, shots in my thumbs and thumb braces -- and permission to again do all the things I did that got me in this condition.

Which is great! The first in my Shadow Ancients series, "Out of the Shadows," releases on March 2 from Resplendence Publishing. I'm in edits for two more books coming out this year and finishing up the third in the Shadow Ancients series. Whew! No wonder my hands wanted a break!

I'm so excited about bringing my vampires -- my Ancients -- to the world. These aren't your angsty, guilt-ridden vampires, by the way. They're powerful, rich and plagued with the same problems as us short-life humans. Well, slightly different problems, as you'll discover in "Out of the Shadows," which introduces the series with a prophecy, a newborn vampire child whose life in is in danger and the short-lifer heroine who saves her by hooking up with the Ancients' enemy.

And you think you have problems!

See you on the dark side --

Cammie

A new month, again!

Here we are in yet another new month -- where is the time going?

Oh, I know. Edits.

That's right, I'm hard at working making editor-requested revisions on my vampire books coming out next year. It's funny how finished I thought I was until my editor got hold of it! Not that the changes have been hard, but it makes me think about how often I make the same mistakes.

Like those pesky "-ly" words -- you know, regretfully, longingly, seriously, beautifully and their relatives. It's so easy to drop one of them in rather than use a bunch of nouns and verbs. And then there's my tendency to use the "has been" form of verbs, like "She had watched" or "He had waited."

I have a real attachment to the words "just" and "very," too. I'm too chicken to see how often I use them in a 70,000-word manuscript, but I wouldn't be surprised it they make up 10 percent. So I've just decided to be very careful in using them from now on. (Yeah, see how they creep in?)

My goal is to get the first manuscript squeaky clean by next week so the changes are back to the editor before I have to worry about getting plastic on the upstairs windows and checking for the best price on turkeys. And then we'll roll into a new month and more challenges ... like getting the next manuscript cleaned up and to the editor before Christmas rolls around.