Okay, you can stop holding your breath now. I’m going to tell you the name of the free novelette (Damn it, according to the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America I almost had a novella – I have 17,400 words and it takes 17,500+ to make a novella. Darn) on offer this weekend, Jan 20-22. Hell Cop: Sneaker. I know, exciting. If you can’t possibly contain your  rapidly growing obsession to read this fine tale of Hell go right now to www.amazon.com/dp/B006kixrxs and get it, man. You deserve it.

If you’re wondering, Hell Cop? Sneaker? try this – Go to the pages at the top right and click on Hell Cop: Sneaker for an interview with Sneaker herself. She is a Hell Cop, or Soul Retriever. She is hired to go into Hell and retrieve innocent souls sent down by purgitorial error.  Most times she partners up with Getter, a soon to be (if unwilling)  legendary Retriever. See Hell Cop and Hell CopII: The Golden Palace on Amazon.com or at Smashwords.com. Unfortunately, Mephisto, the chief of Helland Security in case you forgot, wants to take over Hell from Satan and thinks Getter is the one chosen  (he is) to stop him because of some silly prophecy and like that. So check out Sneaker and go from there. Reviews are appreciated.

Something else. The reason there’s no What If? post this time is because I’m heavy into a new story that is a sequel to my An Accidental Vampire story (see Amazon or Smashwords again. I told you, shameless) It takes place in 17th Century France, a place I haven’t been, though I used to travel a lot. Besides the previous story I haven’t written in the Historical genre before.  I could use some research help about the life and times of  the 1650′s in France. If you know anybody who lived there back then, or who knows about the times, or if you have any research suggestions, I would greatly appreciate hearing about them.

La Belle France is calling, so au revoir for now. Thanks for listening and for your support.

It’s always time for that other kind of desire. The kind that can drive you crazy. The kind you don’t need Valentine’s day to gear up for. The kind that gets you right in the crotch when that one special, to your eyes, one walks by. The one that makes you do crazy things, like go up to him/her and try to be hip and cool to impress, but instead stumble and sweat and make a complete fool of yourself. Which could take your desire in two directions.

The Sandman’s sister, Desire, might lead you to obsession. “So what if there’s a boy or girlfriend, a husband or wife,” you might say. “We are meant to be together, (meant by who is never questioned) so whatever dark place I have to go to to bring us together is right and necessary. ” This is the Desire of nightmares, sleeping and waking. The Desire that eats you up inside, alienates you, eats your brain and replaces it it with evil thoughts,  makes you a stalker, a killer. A fool.

It also may lead you to the Desire of Achievement. “So what if I made an ass of myself  in front of my  Object Of Desire (OOD), and they think I’m some lowlife scum stalker who should not be allowed in polite society. I’ll show him/her.” So you turn your obsession to yourself. You claw your way to success in business, money and society just to impress your OOD. And there you are at a huge dinner thrown to honor your success and good works and your OOD is introduced and they fall for you and you live happily ever after. Don’t laugh. It could happen that way. Or… see below.

I haven’t seen the movie Young Adult yet, but it sounds as if it might be an addendum to this blog.

But this is Christmas. Your desire may lean to video games, or clothes (lame) or a CD or books (Ha! Bet you thought you’d get away without a sneaky promo stuck in) or get togethers with family and friends (isn’t F and Fs getting to be a tad overused?) or “Please please don’t make me go to that party if Uncle  Todd and Cousin It are going to be there and Drinking!”

Good or bad, Desire makes the world go round, up to the pinnacle of success and happiness, or  down to the depths of Hell.  Without Desire there would be no stories –  no movies, books or fairy tales. No civilization. Where would we be if the first caveman (or woman) with the first faint spark of intelligence hadn’t desired to cross a river or eat everyday or get that stalker dude/dudette away from me? Nowhere. On the other side of the river ignoring the greener pastures just over there.

IDEAS

What if you did make a fool of yourself, more than once, and were rebuffed each time? Fortunately for you and OOD, you took the success route. There you were, finally good enough for OOD, and you didn’t want them anymore. But they wanted you, bad. Suddenly you were the stalkee. Would you be understanding? “I know how it feels, darling. But it’s not going to work out.” Would you tell them to piss off, because you’re too good for them now? How far would you go to protect your new success. Would you let your Desire to be free of your OOD lead you to the dark side, ending back where you began, on the bleak bottom side of want?

What if you were that first caveperson? What if by some deux ex machina event you had more than a spark of intelligence, it was like an explosion in your head. Suddenly, you got it, knew it all, could figure it all out. Along with that explosion came an equal amount of ambition – Desire by another name. Where would it lead you, what could you hope to accomplish back then? What if you found out you didn’t age, but you could die? What would your Desire to live do to your ambition? What if, knowing what you know now, you were transported back to the cave? Do you think your Desires would be different?

What if you were a kid and you really really really wanted something for Christmas, but your parents didn’t have much money and told you that if you could save half the cost they’d match you and get your OOD. What antics and clever ideas that just didn’t quite work could you and a friend or two come up with? What hilarity might ensue? What lessons learned? What good feeling might be spread. There is a dark side to this What If?, but it’s Christmas so I’ll leave it alone. But it’s still there.

What if, aliens bent of conquest released a gas in the atmosphere that curbed all human desire. Not just for sex or love, but everything. This lack of Desire slowly evolved into apathy. Soon people were too apathetic to eat or drink and they weakened and died. Just what the aliens wanted. But nothing affects everybody. Some will survive and they will fight. In this case a drug cartel kingpin, an advertising executive, a spammer, an auto production line worker, and a biochemist.  How would these people restore human desires and save the world?

Desire is necessary for human civilization and survival. Just don’t let them kill you. Besides, without them, Santa would be out of a job.  Happy Holidays.

I am just now reading the last volume in the Sandman series of graphic novels created by Neil Gaimin. The Sandman is Dream, one of the Endless along with his brothers and sisters – Death, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destruction and Destiny. (6, get it?)

Death is the oldest. This is perhaps a practical matter. Without Death making way for the new, where would we put all of them? Immortality may be an interesting idea, but practically speaking, except for me and you, it’s a no go. Unless, and you’ve no doubt already figured this out you smarty you, you develop space travel early on and send the Newbies, or maybe the bored Oldies, off to another planet, and then another and another – but that’s a different blog. (Oh great, another immortality post) Death is the oldest because all things, bugs, animals, people, planets, stars, galaxies and the like all end up in her arms eventually.

When Death takes you in her arms is up to Destiny. That, too, is a future blog.

What if Death gets bored? He/she/it is always busy, as most people know too well.  A million times a day she (He or it – your choice) scoops up souls on Destiny’s timetable.  In the book I’m working on,  Ancient Mariners, Death is  represented by, wait for it, a large black Albatross. I think the Death in my story decided for whatever reason, to go off book.  Maybe the bad guy was scheduled to die at a certain time – heart attack, a fall down stairs, a random bullet. But Death, to relieve the tedium of embracing the dead since Time began, (or maybe just to screw with her Endless brother, Destiny) picked my two protagonists and created a mission for them. They were trained, prepared, nudged to be at the proper place at the proper time so that the bad guy’s death was not  random. But unlike so many meaningless, stupid, untimely deaths, had some meaning for those present at the time.

Death isn’t a bad guy (person or being,  if you need to be PC.)  Though it might seem she is pursuing you, she isn’t really. She’s just making sure that when the time comes, she’s there to catch you.

IDEAS

What if Death wrote a book? What would she (see above) have to say? I read a novel a few years ago, that I unfortunately can’t remember the name of, narrated by Death as she followed a girl/woman throughout her life.  In your book, maybe there’d be a day in the life, so to speak. Maybe interesting stories of particular people and how they came to be in her arms.

What if (oh damn, here’s those immortals again) your novel followed the cat and mouse existence between an Immortal and Death. Both aware of each other, maybe they have a coffee or a drink together sometimes.  Oh the stories they could tell, the comments of the past, present and future. Maybe the Immortal sneaks in to Destiny’s den and almost sees the date of his/her death. Or maybe it’s open-ended, a mystery to all.

Many people would do anything to prolong their lives. What would you do? Make a deal, your life for someone else’s? Offer to be her apprentice, then stab her in the back? Best be careful, she’s been around a long time and knows all the tricks. If money can’t buy a longer life, what can? What does Death want to  jigger the books for you, or push you back when you fall into her arms? Maybe there are two Deaths and you could play one against the other.

What if Death fell in love?  What if without his/her knowledge Death did jigger the books? Then they met, and the object of Death’s affection fell in love, too. Then they were found out – What would they do, where could they run, who would be chasing them, besides love, what else did they have to lose?

Unless you know something I don’t, you can run, but you can’t hide. So don’t worry about it and do your best to enjoy the time you have. Then you’ll have some stories to tell.

And speaking of the black is beautiful you were probably thinking I meant – Hallie Berry or Beyoncé’ or Ginny Ralston (tenth grade – Oh man!) Or Denzil Washington or Blair Underwood if your interest swings that way. ‘Nuff said?  Check out Abagond.wordpress.com .

The little black dress.

That dress may lead you to blissfully shooting  stars among the rainbows, or into the black agony of darkness. Depends on who’s wearing it, why they’re wearing it and how much you’ve had to drink/smoke/sniff. Bad things hide in the beautiful blackness. Vampires, except maybe the sparkly ones, hide in the dark. Werewolves come out at night. Evil, human and supernatural, finds the darkness beautiful for that’s when they come out to play and prey. What’s your little black dress for?

Without blackness we wouldn’t have starry skies, or romantic moonlit nights, vamps and weres  notwithstanding, or the excitement of neon lit streets on a warm summer night. No campfires with marshmallows and scary stories. No way to experience the phosphorescence of fish in tropical waters.  Or…?

 And No reason to wear that little black dress. Or the tuxedo that goes with it.  Sigh.

IDEAS

I’m reading The Measure of the Magic by Terry Brooks. It’s connected to his Running with Demons trilogy which are some of my favorite books. In this story a character loses his/her ability to see colors. All is black, white or shades of grey.  I think black would become much more beautiful because its contrast with white  would be much more important. What if you lost that ability. How would you cope? How would it affect your life? See below.

What if you landed on a  screwed up planet where all the people had the same features, but they were different colors and (this is weird) some  colors  didn’t like some other colors. Imagine that! And there were strict customs about which colors one was allowed to associate with. And then you come along, and because you had to pass through a radiation cloud to escape slavers  chasing  you for the harem you were transporting for the Rajha of Ikart you can’t see colors anymore. How would you get along by associating with people of every color? Some colors wouldn’t like it, some would. If you survived, maybe you would leave the world a little more tolerant place, or a total uninhabited wasteland. Your choice.

What if you crash landed on a planet with no sun? Except for sparse starlight all was black. There might be life there. Maybe plants that evolved to not need sunlight to grow. Some animals. If you weren’t rescued for years, how would you survive in the dark? Would your eyes adapt to the blackness? If your space ship survived mostly intact, how would the light from it affect the local wildlife. Attract it? Repel it? If there were sentient beings there would they think you a god, or a devil?

What if you were invisible during the day? At night you were sharp and defined and beautiful. But in daylight you were totally invisible to all. Still substantial, but invisible. A criminal’s dream. But during a walk-in bank robbery you saw a woman/man. You followed them later. Met them at night, fell in love.  A night-time romance is only going to last so long. You have to tell them, show them,  your secret some time. No lies, isn’t that what they always say? How will they take it? Think it’s cool? Think you’re a freak or liar and walk out? Call the Police? You definitely don’t want the government to get hold of you.  If they want to leave, can you let them leave, or  do you love them too much to let them go? Once you tell your secret, how will it end? A happy night-time/kinky daytime lover ending (Would your children be invisible?) or a heartbreaking drag you to the ugliest, blackest depths of despair kind of ending? What’s in your black heart?

What if you were in a totally dark sensory deprivation chamber to relax and let your cares waft away? What if there was something in there with you?

Soothing, scary, sexy, secret,  beautiful, ugly, agony, ecstasy –  black is what you make it. What would you do if you had your choice?

Humans die.  Immortals don’t. That’s a problem.

Suppose you were immortal. Not an immortal like a member of a team or a club, not a vampire, or a zombie, or a God/Goddess, or an alien who could go into stasis every once in a while to freshen up their  wrinkles, or a superhero, or a demon, or a regular person with superpowers from being bitten by a mosquito cursed by an African witch doctor.  You are a regular person who at a certain age (you pick) was shunned by Death and Aging. You could not die by any means, including your own hand, someone else’s hand, or any hand associated with nature, fate, religion or the supernatural. You did not age.

And you fell in love. With a mortal.

Not just a regular - Oh this person’s hot and sexy I love you let’s have sex - kind of love. A deep soul cleansing, soul mate kind of love. Someone you could say, “I’ll love you forever,” to, and mean it.  Someone you would happily give your life to save, if you could.

It has to end,  you know it does.  At some point your loved one (spouse or whatever) will figure out that you’re not getting any older and they are. Awkward. How do you handle it?  You could tell them the truth, if you trust them. Loving them does not mean you trust them to keep their mouth shut, especially if they think you’re a creep.  Because even though you are just a regular law-abiding (except for the false IDs and offshore bank accounts) citizen with only that one little secret to hide,  doesn’t mean you want it blabbed about that you can’t die.

Especially if you’re concerned (which you should be) that the “Government” might (they will) find out. Law abiding citizen that you are,  if you’ve been alive any length of time you must have acquired a rather strong skepticism about what the “Government” might do to you if they get their military/scientific mitts on you. Think disappearing into a secret lab in the middle of the desert where they’ll poke and probe you, then, for purely scientific purposes of course, try to kill you to figure you out, then, because they’re scared of you, really try hard to kill you. Failing that, it’s an underground apartment in Area 51 on a very long lease. But, there are two silver linings.  1. If you’ve been clever enough to hide all your money gained over the decades/centuries in interest bearing accounts, you’ll be making money, man.  2. You’ll eventually outlive them. So there, Mr. Soldier Scientist.  BTW, by government I’m not talking about any particular administration (though if it’s Republican at the time you’re really screwed.) I’m talking about all flavors of ”Government,” with a big G.

So back to your problem. What to do? Disappear before the question comes up? Disappear after the question comes up? Just go and leave him/her a nice nest egg to  help them get over you? If they love you as much as you love them, maybe they won’t ask and you don’t tell and you go along as if nothing weird is happening. Maybe on their death-bed you can explain? How many times would you have to have that conversation over the years before your tears didn’t get in the way?

On the dark side, there’s always a dark side, especially if your true love doesn’t reciprocate like you think they should, the bitch/bastard. The simplest expedient is murder. By accident, of course. You don’t want some hotshot detective (your love child?) looking into their murder, do you? If you can’t manage murder there’s always solitary confinement in a remodeled basement in a house in the country. Best make sure they’re secure, though. If they escape they could easily make it so you dearly wished you were dead. After all, just because you can’t die, doesn’t mean you can’t hurt. Besides heartbreak, that is.

IDEAS

See above– You have time.

So without Magic, who was he? Born and raised with it, Magic was all he knew. He was a Sorcerer, suddenly deprived of what made him a Sorcerer. What if a life long writer lost his/her ability to write, a sailor to sail, an accountant his ability to count, a politician his ability to…(oh, do politicians have  abilities?) a plumber his ability to plumb, an electrician his ability to spark – what would they do to reinvent themselves?

I’m not talking about their jobs, millions are going through that right now, but their identities, how they see themselves when looking in the mirror, their talent, gift, mind-set. How would you cope with this loss? Would it devastate you with no possibility of recovery? Would you turn to booze, drugs, domestic abuse, staring out a window in a depressed stupor, suicide?  If someone called your name would you answer, “He doesn’t live here anymore. No forwarding address.”

As everyone has a different version of their identity,  as opposed to everybody else’s version, they would also have different ways of coping with its loss. Some would take it badly, some sadly, some might relish the chance to forge a new identity. Especially if they didn’t like the one they had. A second chance. Are you what you do, or what you are? How many of you might go for a chance to change that? Would you really? Do you have friends who would help you through the transition? Would they still be your friends after you sprouted those shiny new butterfly wings? Who would you rather be if you aren’t one of the few who are happy, “just the way they are?” You might ask that person in the mirror what they think. If you’re not afraid to talk to strangers.

Ideas

What if you were my sorcerer? In my story the Sorcerer is a passing character probably not seen again until the next sequel. But what if you were writing his story? How would he react? Slink away to obscurity? Become a kid’s birthday party magician? A used car salesman? Or get mad? Maybe go to the new second wand in the real magic world and make a deal.  Maybe go to the bad guys (Vampires) he worked with and make some kind of deal. Or maybe he would slink off, but not to oblivion –  To some of the magical characters and/or entities and/or friends he met on his journey up the sorcery power ladder to plan his triumphant revenge.

There are plenty of stories about people losing their memories. What if it was an alien on a raw colony world. The Humans take it in and treat it as human until it believes it’s one of them, until others of his kind come looking for him. Who would it chose – his human family or his kind who are alien to him?

What if it was a human taken in by aliens?

What if you were hit man on the run? New life, new family, new identity. A well-worn story line. But what if the ghosts of his or her victims took over his body and made him discover how his murders affected certain survivors.  Then made him take care of his victims’ unfinished business, including making sure loved ones were taken care of with money obtained from  sometimes (well, mostly) unsavory sources or murderous revenge, or….

A few places that have dealt with this theme: Quantum Leap TV show, the novel Memory by Donald Westlake. ( A fairly depressing book, but it deals with the identity issue straight on.)  A novel by (I think)  David Morell about a spy who had so many identities he didn’t know which one was real. In my novel Fear Killer, ( see sidebar)Emily Perrit is definitly having an identity crisis.

So how does the identity you have in your head stack up to the one everyone else sees? And what are you going to do about it? Who ever you are.

Lunch time at work. There was a mouse sighting. A sticky trap was laid down between the desk and a file cabinet. Within ten minutes the mouse sealed its fate by running over it and becoming hopelessly stuck. Within five minutes, accompanied by mini-screams interspersed with laughs, the mouse, very much alive and valiantly struggling, was unceremoniously dumped in a dumpster. A couple of cryptic comments, and the little creature was forgotten by all. Except me.

One of the women in the group was an accomplished mouse killer. I waited a bit, but she neither volunteered nor was volunteered to dispatch the tiny creature whose only crime was being a mouse in the wrong place at the wrong time. What I wondered as I waited for lunch to be over, I knew exactly what I was going to do afterwards, was - why that mouse at that time? If I hadn’t been there that day ( I was only assigned to work there four days) that mouse would have died a slow, agonizing, forgotten  death of thirst and exhaustion as he struggled against the Great Sticky for hours, probably days. Would he wonder, as I did, why he was dying such a torturous death when he did nothing to deserve it but be born?

A few seconds reflection brings one to the expanded question of why does anybeing, human or animal, live the way they live, die the way they die?Why is one child abducted, tortured and killed painfully enveloped in fear, when another lives a long happy life and dies quietly in his or her sleep? Why is one person born into a shitty life and continue to live a shitty life when another person climbs out and makes a happy life?  Does one grab a number indicating the number of years left to live, as one slides out of the womb.  Maybe there’s red Xs by the number, one X means an easy life and death, four Xs and it’s going to bad, painful, and scary.

Or does free will and coincidence determine your end? Everything you do while taking advantage of your inalienable right to make bad choices (okay, good choices, too) puts you on the path to your demise. But coincidence is what seals your end. I used to drink. Many times I woke up scared to look at my car because I was scared of what I might find. I made a bad choice, but coincidence, chance, luck, kismet dictated that I didn’t kill anybody or myself. How many of you made (make) the same choice and it turned (turns) out badly?

Fate or Free Will? All I know about the answer to that question is that if somebody  says they know for an absolute surety which one is the one that runs our life, they don’t.

Another sticky trap, another struggling, suffering mouse. Another mercy killing. I hope fate or coincidence isn’t trying to tell me something.

Ideas

What if when you were born Fate wrote a note in the Great ledger – the when and  how of your demise. But what if Fate wasn’t quite on the up and up. What if he or she could be bribed? What would be the price to jigger your fate – money, sex, prayer, a human sacrifice? What would you pay? Who would you sacrifice? And what if that person made their own deal, involving you? Can you really escape your fate?

What if at some point in your life in order to survive you (meaning you and everybody else in your world)  had to kill the person next to you? How would that affect your life? Would you be a world of recluses? Would you live in fear, wearing six-shooter to defend yourself at the perceived murderous glance for your neighbor,  or accept it and just live your life “normally?”

What if you absolutely did not believe in “Fate,” then found out with absolute certainty you were wrong. How far would you go into the realm of Gods and other creatures to prove yourself right?

What if you absolutely did believe in “Fate” and lived your life under the assumption that whatever you did, whatever happened to you was not your fault. Then you found out with absolute certainty you were wrong. How  would that affect the way you lived?

As Fate would have it, I am exercising my Free Will and going to plan a campagne against Sticky Traps as cruel and unusual punishment. Whether my punishment or the mouse’s I’ll let________decide.

Like Justine, I struggle with what my answer would be if one of those powerful, I’d hope it wasn’t a weak one, Oracles asked me if I wanted to know when I was going to die. For free-gratis, no obligation. If I wanted to know, they’d tell me, and walk on by. Decisions decisions.  What would you choose?

There’s upsides and downsides to knowing: Did I mention that they only see what WILL happen, such as your death? No A Christmas Carol sentimentality here. What they see,  an hour or a century ahead, CAN NOT BE CHANGED.

Upside -  You can plan your own funeral. Make sure you get the rousing send off you deserve. Or make sure you don’t get any sendoff.

You can plan for success. If you knew you had 35 years left, wouldn’t you live a bit differently than if next month you’re out. 35 years is plenty of time to start another career. Or that business, or family  you’ve been thinking about.  That’s plenty of time to start taking care of yourself so those last years will be good ones. The Oracles can’t give you the details of what happens just before or after you die. They might say, “You’ll die at 9:30 p.m. on June 23, 2028, but what your life was like leading up to that time they can’t, or won’t,  tell you.  So you’d better start taking care of yourself now.

On the other hand, more upside. If you’re time’s up next month, why bother, indulge, Baby. Eat, Drink and make Mary. You can easily plan to spend your last dollar a minute before you go. You can’t take it with you!

So much for yourself, (you selfish twit you) what about seeing what will happen to other people? Their deaths, births, successes, who they really married. You could make a fortune working for life insurance companies or…(see IDEAS below.) If you could focus on celebrities you’d be king or queen of the gossip set. A little side bet on the Oscar winners anyone?

If you were a good (non greedy) person like we all (well, most of us) are, or an especially  good friend, knowing when something bad was going to happen you could be there to ease the hurt. What would you do with a little real clairvoyance? Good or evil? Helpful or hurtful? Resist the temptation to do bad things, or give in, or give in and use the ill-gotten gains to do good.  St. Peter will buy that, don’t you think?

Who knew there so many upsides to knowing when the Reaper was coming to touch you with those long boney fingers?

IDEAS

What if you knew when the Grim reaper was coming and you set a trap? And you caught him. No more death! Everybody’s immortal. And unlike vampires (though there is some debate on this in the think tanks and the higher intellectual circles) everybody could breed as they do now. What would that do to the Earth? How long before it’s, “Stop the world I want to get off!” (Hasn’t that been done?) Put your own twist on it? Maybe you trapped the Reaper and sent him, or her, into space on a ship traveling an out-of-galaxy course.  That would get us into space. The Great Reaper Hunt. Maybe they could only send vampires? Of course then they’d have to send something for them to eat. Oh well, that might diminish the surplus population.  Though the Earth might be so crowded they’d have to have a lottery to choose who got to go as Vamp food. It might be worth it!

What if you worked for a Life Insurance company? If you knew when a person was going to die you could tell if they were a good risk. On the other hand, if you knew when a person was going to die, why not buy a life insurance policy on them? Wait a few months and bam, collect.  A million dollar policy a year and you’d be set. Unless some hot insurance investigator figured out what you were up to and bought a policy on you, and made you look ahead to your own death, at his hand.

 What if  you were say 30 years old and you knew with certainty that the earth would be destroyed on your 65th birthday? Unless, you sacrificed at the maximum, your life, or at minimum, you had to leave the planet and never return without even being able to say goodbye.   Nobody would ever know of your sacrifice. Which would you choose? How would your life so far affect your decision? What if you  had had a shitty life, unhappy, unappreciated, unloved with little prospect of it turning around? What if you were totally happy, successful, loved by one and all? What other things in your life would affect your decision?

What if you could see in the future some great calamity happening to the woman/man you loved from afar, though they were oblivious to you? You didn’t know if you could change that future.  Would you try? What sort of abuse would you take from him/her before you said the hell with it,  you didn’t care anymore?

If I had  consulted an Oracle and known how hard this topic would be I might not have taken it on. I’d love to see your story ideas for this topic.

I’ve recently been informed that nobody reads my blog. This of course is disheartening, but also liberating. I can write whatever I want without worrying that I might offend someone, not that I do. I think it’s also not true that NOBODY reads it. Maybe 20-25 people visit whenever I post a new one. Surely one or two actually read it. Don’t they? Readers or not, and even though I grumble to myself when I’m actually writing it, I love doing the ideas part. Ask any writer, isn’t the funnest part that initial rush when that new IDEA is exploding in your head and new scenes and dialogue and characters tumble around like clothes in a dryer with new pieces magically appearing,  all screaming for attention? I want to write every idea. Alas, I am not a vampire and immortal, like the characters in Blood Justice. Ha, I bet you thought you were going to get away without another mention of Blood Justice. Fat chance.

Telling me that nobody reads my blog may or may not be true, and the right to say it may be protected by our country’s Right of Free Speech, but honestly now, wouldn’t a little white lie have been better? From your perspective it probably would have been, because I probably wouldn’t have written this slightly snarky blog post that you’re not reading. 

White lies are good. I mean what if there’s a gorgeous hunky guy at work who’s been making eyes at you and when he’s not looking you’re making eyes at him, though you know nothing will ever happen, and then one day you’re in the supply room and he shows up and somehow the door closes and his eye and body language make totally inappropriate suggestions, since you’re happily married to a very nice guy, and your head is outraged that he smells so good and his smile weakens your knees and warms your body fluids, but your body is overruling your brain by preparing itself for his big, strong hands to unzip and unbutton and grab you who cares where and lift you up and…. So you go home and your husband has a glass of wine ready and dinner in the oven and he asks, “How was your day, Hon. Anything exciting happen?” Now which is better, the TRUTH, or, “Oh, nothing. What’s for dinner?”

IDEAS

What if  you told a lie. Not a big one, a little white lie to save somebody’s feelings, which is a good reason to tell one, except this time that innocuous lie leads to one more and one more and then a bigger (but still white) lie, and then you’re done. Everything is cool as far as you’re concerned. But the person you lied to, not so good, and big trouble comes their way and it’s your fault and you love this person so you’d better fix it  because that first lie was one of those kill-a-butterfly-in-the-jungle-and-the world-will-end-(maybe literally)-chaos theory ones. So, feelings shmeelings, think of the universal consequences before telling someone a lie, like - ”Nobody reads your blog, you hack.”

What if you spent your whole life making someone happy, lying, stroking the ego, anything to make that person happy at the expense of your own dreams and desires. Then they die. Sad, because now you’re too old, sick, tired, beaten down or wasted to seek your dream, but at least you know the other person appreciated your efforts. Well done, Joe.  Then you die, and you go to Hell. What? Why? you ask. Because that person you gave your life to bad-mouthed you at the Pearly Gates and so now you’re in Hell. And now, though you may be in Hell and they may be in Heaven, you have a new dream, and it’s called,  REVENGE, YOU UNGRATFUL BITCH! Or SON-OF-A-BITCH, as the case may be.

What if you could always tell when anyone lied, and, knew the truth they were lying about. What would you do with that gift? Do good, do bad, a little of both? Good on the outside, bad on the inside? Would you tell the government? Keep it a secret? Would anybody ever trust you if they knew your secret? How rich would get? What if bad guys got hold of you to use your gift (If you still thought of it as a gift)? How would you oh so cleverly defeat them? Honestly now, what would you do?

Freedom of speech compels me to honestly say, I want you to buy a copy of Blood Justice for a gift to a vampire lover you love.  And that ain’t no little white lie.

Everybody is suited for something. Some people are suited to be sales persons. (Can you feel my body shudder at the thought of being a salesman? Promise you’ll never mention Encyclopedia Britannica to me. I’m over that. Really, I am.)  Some are suited to be politicians. See above. Scientists, indoor and outdoor, teachers, we need more of those, too bad we spent the money for them on something else, business persons, actors, soldiers, sex workers, and worker bees, somebody is suited for all those jobs.

Writers, too. Some are suited (blessed?) to be bestselling, self-promoting, (and liking it, for God’s sake!) gad about, life of the party, conversational maven writers. Some are more suited to hole up in a dark room with Jazz in the earphones and write  stories for my… I mean themselves that no one else wants to read, and if forced to socialize prefer to stand in the corner and hope nobody wants to talk to them.

In Blood Justice (I’m sure you know what I”m talking about by now) the heroine (is that correct terminology or is it now PC to call all heroes, ah…heroes?) Justine Kroft is well suited to be a vampire avenger. She’s a strong-willed, successful, single mother with martial arts training, one friend, and nothing else to live for. It’s a no brainer she’d want to be a vampire to avenge the murder of her daughter.

Similarly, Simone Gireaux, a 350 year-old Vampire, is suited for her role. She, too, lost her family to murderous vampires (see the Accidental Vampire page, top right) so is willing to help Justine in her quest for revenge.

Teresa Diaz, Justine’s one true friend, also is suited to help Justine. Her daughter is missing, so she knows what Justine feels. Her husband and other two children have moved on, Teresa has not. She is a real “friend.” If Justine needs her help, she’ll help.

So what makes these women so well suited to do what they do? Nature or nurture? No doubt their past experiences shaped them into what they are today. But, all that nurture had their individual natures to work with. If Justine had been a shy, withdrawn, delicate child would the same experiences have led her to give up her mortal life to go after a bad-ass vampire? If Simone had been a weak, unintelligent (not, uneducated) cowering peasant woman, would she have been able to survive 350 years of superstition, ignorance and fear? Not likely. It’s Teresa’s nature not to forget her missing daughter and to continue to search for answers. Just like it’s her husband’s nature to put it behind him and move on.

Nature deals you a hand, nurture determines whether you’re suitable to risk a raise, or fold. 

IDEAS

What if a good girl hooked up with an unsuitable bad boy and tragedy ensued? As if you didn’t think of that first thing.  As if all the gender, age, class permutations of that idea haven’t been around since forever. It’s still as fresh as it was back when Mag met Ugh and he showed her his cave paintings. The private ones way in the back. It will probably still  be fresh when Magzet meets Zook2 and he takes her for a ride on his spacecycle, even though her parents forbid her to see that bum, out to his underground asteroid weekend home and shows her his diamond laser etchings. The private ones in the back.  So I think there’s still a story or two there.

What if a nice, but nerdy, plain-looking man actually hooked up with an unsuitable (at first glance) hot chick. Though she might be a flirty party girl, she’s one of the rare ones who can look beyond the geek exterior and see the good guy inside, and also see in the future that he’s going to be a gazillionaire one day, and she really does come to love him. Then the tragedy. She’s  assaulted, with extreme violence, and the guy, being weak and inexperienced and never having to test his bravery, can’t help her. Helpless,  he has to watch whatever  happens to her. He’s broken. He loses his niceness, his innocence. He doesn’t have a strong body, but he’s strong where it counts, between the ears. What would such a guy do to deliver suitable justice to the bad guy? Or, reverse the genders. How would that change the story?

What if young love happened but the parents disapproved, “He/she is unsuitable for my child,” he opined.  Another oldey but goody.  But what if the unsuitable one goes away and comes back as A: rich and successful – boring. Or B: A different sex. There’s that nature again. Maybe not so boring. Again, reverse some genders and sexual preferences and see what happens. And is the “child,” no matter how old he/she is, in on the secret? The big question is, will there be a happy or tragic ending?

Whatever’s suitable for you, go for it. Whether that includes vampires or not, thanks for your support.