Gerry with Nina Bangs

I’m posting a picture here of me with my friend Nina Bangs. I went to her condo which she redid this past year. It was a case of out with the old, in with the new. It’s nice to make a clean sweep. Her third floor unit is beautiful and she bought it because it has a view of Clear Lake and a marina. It’s a very soothing setting.

This was a weird Christmas for me. I lost my mother this year so I was the hostess for the festivities for my family. I’m now the older generation. And doesn’t that give me the creeps? But I soldiered on. I always invite my single friend Nina and another couple who don’t have family in the area to join us. We had a good time and I made myself keep the food simple. I completely overcompensated at Thanksgiving and was stuck with leftovers that I ended up tossing or giving away. I tend to do that. Go overboard. I felt like I had my mom looking over my shoulder, not critically, just seeing if I was getting the holiday done right. It was an weird feeling.

I’ve known for a long time that I was blessed with my parents. I was encouraged to get an education, make something of myself, but never pressured. I had a mom who everyone loved and I counted her as my best friend. No wonder I feel off kilter this year. I’m remembering how she loved Christmas and always made sure my brother and I had lots of little presents under the tree. Maybe that’s why I feel like I got less than usual this year. Not that anyone didn’t come through. My family is generous and we all exchanged gifts like we always do. It’s just that I missed my mother’s little surprises. And her way of worrying if she “came out even”. She knew my brother and I counted each other’s stacks. Yeah, really mature of us.

But we made it through and didn’t even talk about Mom. Which was crazy and maybe a coping mechanism. I guess we were afraid we’d break down if we started remembering earlier holidays. Or if we’d brought out the picture albums. Heck, even writing this now has me tearing up.

But I’m moving on. I have the comfort of knowing that my mother was my biggest fan. She loved my Glory books and read every one. She bragged about me, but not to her Sunday School class–those steamy scenes embarrassed her a little. It surprised her that her school teacher daughter turned out to be an author and writing about vampires at that. My father, who was a wickedly intelligent man, died decades ago. But he gave me my first computer and he somehow knew writing was my destiny. He’d have loved the Glory books too, especially those hot scenes. I did say he was wicked, didn’t I? Yep, I was blessed. And have some great memories to fall back on. Now it’s up to me to create new ones. It’s not always easy with our ghosts hovering around us.

I hope you have your own good times past and present. I’d love to hear about them. And that your new year is filled with everything you wish for.

I also have friends I made when I was still teaching. These friends are few and have stayed with me because we found other shared interests outside of the classroom. You may have found that to be true too. When you work with someone you might spend eight hours a day with them, eat lunch with them every day, yet have nothing in common except that place of employment. When I moved to a new school, I often never heard from a pal again. But there were a few that I did stick with. Those are the gals that I shop with, travel with and gossip on the phone with. Do we talk about school days? Hardly ever. Ancient history.

Finally, there are my writing friends. These days they seem to stick closest to me. Writing is a tough business, especially in this economic climate. With so many bookstores closing, it’s hard to get a decent contract and print runs are shrinking. It’s also hard to stay motivated to write with or without a deadline. My writing buddies understand the grind I go through to write funny, write passionately and stay on task when my life has its down moments. Through the loss of my husband then more recently the loss of my mother, it was the writing community that understood how I struggled to be creative during that period.

Yes, we are professionals but we’re human too. I have critiqued with the same two women for many years. We joke that we’re more like a support group. Amen. Not only do we read each other’s stuff but we share each other’s struggles and brainstorm when the creative well runs dry. I think I would have quit writing when it took me so long to sell my first book if I hadn’t had that tight support system in place. My writing pals are the cheerleaders behind the scenes when I’m waiting to hear what my editor thinks after I turn a book in. They pat me on the back when a reviewer doesn’t give my books love and celebrate with me when readers put me on a bestseller list.

Where would I be without my friends? I can’t imagine it. I’m one of those people who needs that human contact to thrive. Every message I get from a fan about my books seems to fill me up. I can’t get enough of those kinds of positive vibes. Writing is a solitary exercise,  just me and my computer.  Yes, my characters come alive for me. You don’t want to know how real some of those hot guys seem after a while. I have a BIG crush on Israel Caine. But fact is, at the end of the day it’s me and words on paper. So I need my friends to let me know I’m not alone.

What about you? How do you get together with your friends? We always seem to share a meal. Are your buds from work, family or school? I’d love to hear about your life. Post here.

I started writing way back in the last century. Before computers. Yes, I used a, gasp, typewriter. Hey, at least it was electric. I struggled with white-out and eraseable bond. Imagine a 400 page manuscript churned out that way. And revisions? You did them very reluctantly. So much retyping. And I’m not the most accurate typist in the world. Backspace is my friend.

My dad bought me my first computer and made me audit his class. He taught computer technology at the University of Houston. He hadn’t done an introductory class in years but did a special summer session just so I could take it. He regretted it. The yahoos in that class had the attention span of gnats and his baby girl, me, struggled to grasp the intricacies of this new language. What can I say? I’d been an English major. But I did finally figure out that this was a fabulous new way to write my stories. Did I mention how much I loved my daddy? Still miss him.

Anyway, technology has come a long way since that first bulky computer with the long sheets of paper that had holes in the edges and had to be torn apart. Now I have three computers in my house–a desktop that is my home base, a laptop and a netbook. I know, overkill. But I did inherit Daddy’s love of gadgets. With wireless I can write anywhere except the bathtub. I’m not brave enough for that. Of course sometimes evil demons occupy my equipment and create problems. Luckily I have a son who’s computer savvy– obviously this stuff skips a generation–and I can call on him when things go wrong.

Another bit of technology that has changed my life is my cell phone. I have one of those iphones so I can check my email wherever I go. I’ve found that it’s also a long leash. I cannot get totally away from my responsibilities. Do you find that true?Sometimes love it, sometimes hate it .

But the most awesome technological breakthrough in my lifetime is the Internet. I wish my father were alive to enjoy it. It has certainly made research for writers a snap. I can look up names for demons, find out what a street in Austin looks like, even check out a menu at a restaurant before I head out for dinner. Oops, that last one wasn’t writing related, was it?

Anyway, what do you love or hate about technology? Share here. I love to hear from you. I’m just glad I made it through this blog without accidentally deleting it. Peace out.

Gerry

Lesson two. A few feet further on, the wind whipped a woman who was decades younger but many pounds heavier as she struggled across the parking lot. She was obviously into fashion, but hadn’t looked in a full length mirror. I don’t know about you, but I always check the front and back view before I head out the door. Here’s the thing. Tights with high boots are in now and a cute look. With a tunic over it. The tunic must cover your butt and tummy. I repeat, MUST cover those areas. Even skinny minnies know this. Those of us with problem areas sure don’t want to show the word our butt crack. So we should wear a heavy sweater over those tights. A LONG heavy sweater. Not a clingy short one. Enough said. And where was this gal’s coat? Okay, so maybe she was from up North and forty degrees felt like a Spring day. Whatever. Please get a clue and look in a mirror.

Now we come to Gerry. There are a lot of things I don’t get. See, I’m not just the harsh critic of others. I seem to make the same mistakes over and over again. Like, instead of attacking the mess in my closet, I’m thinking of running to Ross or Marshall’s and buying yet another pair of black pants. Oh, yeah, and what about those too tight jeans? I hate myself for wanting a larger size again. I gave away my fat jeans last year. Since I don’t dare ask for them back at the Goodwill, I’m sorely tempted to rush out and buy elastic waisted Granny pants. I wore some that were too tight the other day and I SUFFERED. Seriously. By the time I drove home, I’d unsnapped and unzipped just to breathe. Thank goodness I didn’t have a wreck.

Then there’s the issue of  what I’m doing right now. On the Internet, blogging, avoiding attacking the book I need to write. I KNOW what the story is, what I need to write, but I can’t seem to get to it. Somehow I have convinced myself I’m on vacation. That I need to publicize MORE TO LOVE  and that all this other stuff is necessary. But it’s not getting the book written. And this is an old pattern. I tend to put things off till the last minute. Tell myself I work well under pressure, with a deadline looming. When will I get it? I could do a better job, craft a finer story and not be so stressed if I just got down to business right now. What am I afraid of? That I won’t know what to write? I’ve done it before, I can do it again. Right? Um, yeah, sure. I guess. Well, now you know my secret. Authors tend to have the same problem when starting a new book. It’s called terror. Like jumping off a cliff without a safety net. Because, while lots of you love our work and take the time to tell us so, there are always a few who deride it, hate it even, and let it be known. Do we dwell on the good stuff? No way. We let the negatives and doubts eat at us. We worry that we really do suck. That any success we had was a fluke, never to be repeated. So we stall, poised on the edge, afraid to start again.

Don’t worry. I know this is temporary and I’ll get over it. An email from my editor usually is the slap up the side of my head that helps me come back to reality. I get it. I have a contract, responsibilities. And if I keep thinking I need my own fruit tree? Well, let’s just say I have my own weaknesses. I’m not a heroine in a romance novel. I’m more like the woman with the tree, convinced her hero at home will plant it for her. Or the girl in the tights who thought she looked darned good when she left the house. And maybe she did. I’m in the pissy mood I get when I know I’m avoiding what I need to be doing, you know? Can you relate? Experts say this is the most depressed time of year. I believe it. But I’m getting over it. Because what are my options? I choose to count my blessings, finish reading that good book I couldn’t put down till late last night, then actually open the document for the next Glory book and get going. Right after I buy a new pair of elastic-waisted black pants. What can I say? I’m not totally cured.

The problem is, these books are well-written. And the suspense is taut. So I do want to know what happens next. Take Paranormalcy. I liked that book a lot. No teaser chapter at the end. No sign of a book 2. But there has to be one in the offing. Because there were just too many loose ends. And the main character is strong, cool and more than sufficient to carry a series. These authors are good at that. Seems like they’re doing better at it than the adult market lately.

How did I get sucked into this anyway? Sure I have a niece who’s 15, but she didn’t steer me here. I have a friend who writes young adult fare and hasn’t sold one yet. Heard the buzz about the tough competition. Oh, how hard could it be? So I picked up a few. Well, now I know. Pretty darn hard. And so many writers for adults have slipped across the aisle to savor that tasty market, where foreign sales can go to six figures and movie deals are made with unseemly haste. This isn’t happening in the adult section lately.

And when you’ve written as many love scenes as I have, the idea of writing a whole book without one sounds like nirvana. I mean, how many ways can you do it and not sound stale? Or pornographic. Or clinical. I try, seriously, to keep it fresh. But my problem is that I have the same heroine going at it for seven books now. And ninety percent of the time with the same hero. It’s like a long marriage. And I know personally what that’s like. The black negligee is way in the back of the drawer and we watch those ads for the special cream that heats things up, but seems like a lot of trouble and messy. You know? Okay, so I’m writing fantasy. I keep that in mind and soldier on.

But a YA might be a welcome break. I probably waited too late though. The market is getting saturated, by some outstanding talent. And, personally? I hate cliff hangers. I want each book, even if it is in a series, to stand alone. To have a satisfying ending. With all the important questions answered. Any other way is, to me, a manipulation of the audience. And I don’t like it. Might even refuse to buy an author again if I feel jerked around. What do you think? How do you feel about cliff hangers? Share your thoughts here.

But, you know, bullies are everywhere. Sometimes they can be parents, who tell us what we should do, who we should be, even what to study in school. And kids don’t always have resources to resist that kind of bullying. The worst part is, it’s done with that phrase “Because we love you.” Hmm. Yes, they truly believe that. But conditional love isn’t what I want and none of us should settle for it.

Which brings me to the bullies we might date or even marry. Yes, we do. You know it. The boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife who knows what’s good for us. Who sets the rules in the household, what time dinner should be ready, how clean the house should be, how much money we can spend. Bullying.

I watched a movie on cable last night, “The Hangover”. The dentist in that was in a relationship with a female bully. The man had to check in by phone, lie about where he was and, in general, become someone he wasn’t, just to please her. He’d been bullied into submission. Yay, he broke free at the end, but it took a lot for him to do it. Funny, his buds knew she wasn’t right for him from the get-go, but he couldn’t see it. Even had the ring ready to propose. It took a traumatic event to get him to shake loose. Why? Why do we have to hit bottom before we get the nerve to see the truth about situations and do something about them?

That’s easy to answer. Because rocking the boat with a bully means big repercussions. Nasty ones. If you have no best buds to anchor you, someone to have your back, you can be overwhelmed and sucked right back in. Because bullies love their victims. And they don’t want to lose them. What’s a bully without a target? A pathetic, insecure person who has to pick on someone else to make him or herself feel powerful. Our parents? Different agenda. It’s control. Because if they let you loose and you fail? It’s all on them. And they don’t want to look like losers who can’t produce good kids. Hmm. Back to the insecurity issue, aren’t we?

I hope no one reading this is the victim of a bully right now. If you are, whether in a family situation or with a strong-willed person in school or a relationship, I hope you look around and find people who can help you. There are all sorts of resources if you don’t have your own posse of friends who love you. And if you do? Don’t hesitate to ask for help if you feel powerless. That’s what friends are for. We can’t all be like my fictional character, Glory, who I can write to be fearless when she needs to be and clever. Trust me, I get to plan and think about how she will react to things for a long time before a scene ends up in a book. In life, sometimes a split second decision makes all the difference. Give in? Or walk away? Your choice. Never let the bullies get you down.

After years of being in a marriage which started out with me weighing less than a hundred pounds(oh, were those the days!), I’m now a widow. I’ve had three years to get up the courage to try the dating waters again. Not yet, I keep saying. Because, trust me, that hundred pounds was left in the rear view mirror a long time ago. My hubby and I grew older and wider together. He never judged my jiggly parts and I didn’t care about his less than firm six pack(okay, maybe it was more like a ten or twelve). Oh, it was gradual, over time and we loved each other so it wasn’t that big a deal, not the externals.

Now I write about a woman, vampire Glory St. Clair, who is bigger than the norm, who wishes she could be smaller but is stuck. In the book I’m working on now, she has a chance to change, to get to a size six. Does she? Well, you’ll have to wait for that. But the real issue is self-esteem. Glory has come to terms with the fact that she likes herself, her men like her no matter her size. And she can make herself look good with what she’s got. She doesn’t force her body into clothes that are too tight. She never goes out without full makeup and her hair is clean and cut into a flattering style. She doesn’t slouch or hide out in a muu muu and house shoes. Have you done that? I’ve had those days. But they are not good for us. And they can be the beginning of a downward spiral.

On Oprah, the woman with the body issues had to try to appreciate the fact that there are men out there who like a woman with some size. A dating service put her picture, a real one, full body, on their site. She had four nice looking, successful men who wanted to date her. Two out of four came back for a second date. And this was after she was nervous and out of practice on that first one! You see where I’m going with this? It’s not the outside that’s so important, it’s what’s inside that counts.

That’s always been Glory’s message in the Real Vampire books. She has been working to find her independence, her self-esteem and confidence. For her, the real problem isn’t her body size, it’s the size of her ego. Her ability to stand on her own two feet and tell the men in her life to back off and let her do her own thing. It’s been tough. Because she loves a strong man. Maybe two strong men, maybe three. Hmm. This is fantasy I’m writing. But there’s an element of reality in there too. That women need to quit beating themselves up and limiting themselves with negative self-talk. Quit staring into a mirror and seeing only the ugly and never seeing the beautiful. Glory doesn’t even have a reflection except the one in her lover’s eyes. But I’d take that. Now I just need to work up some courage. But that’s me. Glory’s got it.

Gee, that didn’t sound too good. What I mean is that I’ll get things that are on my mind out there and we can chat. I really want your comments. I will try to answer you. So keep them coming. I’m going to repost my latest blog from Myspace on whether size matters. That’s an issue for my character Glory and for me. I think for any woman. Am I right? Read on. Join me here and we’ll decide what’s sense and what’s nonsense.

Thanks for stopping by! Hope you’ll become a regular visitor.

Gerry Bartlett