Come with me into a world where visions live, and life and love are met on my keyboard, down in the spaces between the keys...
Sunday, October 31, 2010
The End of an Era, October 31, 2010
The 1955 Chieftain - My Dad purchased one of these, brand new, when he and my mother were married in 1955.
The 1977 Pontiac Can Am. A rare beast, virtually extinct.
The 1969 Firebird. Until my generation has passed on, discussion will continue about which was the better car - the 1969 Firebird, or the 1969 Camaro.
And arguably the most famous of them all -
1969 GTO Judge
RIP, Pontiac.
1926-2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
The Return of the Muse
October 30, 2010
The creative process is often a mystery to me. I’d like to understand it on a deeper level, but I have this sense of it that says it’s best not to examine it too closely or it will cease to function. What I do know is, in the context of my own creativity, external stress damps it down to a virtually non-functioning level.
It’s an unfortunate fact of our society – a person is expected to want to climb the ladder of success. Whether you’re successful or not, you MUST want it. You must buy into the grind.
Okay – define success.
I’ve spent my working life taking steps up the ‘corporate’ ladder, only to discover I’m really a writer. The older I get, the more I realize that while my day job(s) have certainly provided me with the means to live comfortably, the daily nine-to-five grind has exacted a toll.
Perhaps I’m simply tired, having once again lived through the yearly process of setting the corporate budget for the new year. Ten years ago, it took two weeks, start to finish, to get all those involved to sign off on the budget, and move on. Yea! Success! Let’s all get back to work and do some good in our community.
This year, it took two long, whine-filled, miserable, argumentative months.
It’s been awhile since I fervently wished women ruled the world, but after dealing with so many little boys wearing fancy suits and scuffed shoes, I’m there again. Be careful what favors you need, fellas. I’m not in the mood to share my meager departmental resources.
And while things worked out favorably for my little niche in the operations, my heart longs for something else. It cries for the comfort of my home office. The quiet. The serene view of golden leaved trees through the windows, instead of the blur of cars cruising the streets. My dog sleeping behind my chair as the prose flows from my fingertips. The real me. The writer.
It’s all behind me for another year, but I mourn the loss of two months writing time. The muse, if you want to call it that, flees when stressed. It’s not a good thing. She controls more than writing. She’s that part of me that goes around the house ‘fluffing’ things, that knows how to rearrange the furniture, what new recipe to try, and how to string a new bead necklace in the perfect color combination. When she vanishes, there’s not much going on inside.
But you know what? Maybe she’s a smart muse. Maybe she needs a little vacation from time-to-time. With the stress behind me (or is it us?) she’s back, and she brought a truckload of ideas with her. It’s pretty evident this October morning that instead of hiding, she was merely resting quietly, giving me the space I needed handle outside affairs.
The words once again flow, birthed somewhere deep inside that well of creativity that constantly astounds me. Why I was given such a gift is a mystery, one I can be thankful for even if I don’t understand everything about it.
But then, maybe I’m not supposed to understand it. Maybe I’m supposed to simply enjoy it for the gift it is.
The creative process is often a mystery to me. I’d like to understand it on a deeper level, but I have this sense of it that says it’s best not to examine it too closely or it will cease to function. What I do know is, in the context of my own creativity, external stress damps it down to a virtually non-functioning level.
It’s an unfortunate fact of our society – a person is expected to want to climb the ladder of success. Whether you’re successful or not, you MUST want it. You must buy into the grind.
Okay – define success.
I’ve spent my working life taking steps up the ‘corporate’ ladder, only to discover I’m really a writer. The older I get, the more I realize that while my day job(s) have certainly provided me with the means to live comfortably, the daily nine-to-five grind has exacted a toll.
Perhaps I’m simply tired, having once again lived through the yearly process of setting the corporate budget for the new year. Ten years ago, it took two weeks, start to finish, to get all those involved to sign off on the budget, and move on. Yea! Success! Let’s all get back to work and do some good in our community.
This year, it took two long, whine-filled, miserable, argumentative months.
It’s been awhile since I fervently wished women ruled the world, but after dealing with so many little boys wearing fancy suits and scuffed shoes, I’m there again. Be careful what favors you need, fellas. I’m not in the mood to share my meager departmental resources.
And while things worked out favorably for my little niche in the operations, my heart longs for something else. It cries for the comfort of my home office. The quiet. The serene view of golden leaved trees through the windows, instead of the blur of cars cruising the streets. My dog sleeping behind my chair as the prose flows from my fingertips. The real me. The writer.
It’s all behind me for another year, but I mourn the loss of two months writing time. The muse, if you want to call it that, flees when stressed. It’s not a good thing. She controls more than writing. She’s that part of me that goes around the house ‘fluffing’ things, that knows how to rearrange the furniture, what new recipe to try, and how to string a new bead necklace in the perfect color combination. When she vanishes, there’s not much going on inside.
But you know what? Maybe she’s a smart muse. Maybe she needs a little vacation from time-to-time. With the stress behind me (or is it us?) she’s back, and she brought a truckload of ideas with her. It’s pretty evident this October morning that instead of hiding, she was merely resting quietly, giving me the space I needed handle outside affairs.
The words once again flow, birthed somewhere deep inside that well of creativity that constantly astounds me. Why I was given such a gift is a mystery, one I can be thankful for even if I don’t understand everything about it.
But then, maybe I’m not supposed to understand it. Maybe I’m supposed to simply enjoy it for the gift it is.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Cat Got Your Tongue?
October 24, 2010
I didn't write the following, and I have no clue who did. It made the rounds a few years back, and like all jokes passed around on the Internet, it resurfaced this week. It's just as funny today as it was years ago. Enjoy!
CALLING IN SICK
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast, when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Ed! The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower(pitter-patter). "Reset it yourself!"
"I am scared!" she pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, It wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight up, the sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing hysterical laughter. At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
If they had only known.
I didn't write the following, and I have no clue who did. It made the rounds a few years back, and like all jokes passed around on the Internet, it resurfaced this week. It's just as funny today as it was years ago. Enjoy!
CALLING IN SICK
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable. No matter how legitimate my illness, I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason, but lied anyway because the truth was too humiliating. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife's wishes to adopt a cute little kitty. Initially, the new acquisition was no problem, but one morning, I was taking my shower after breakfast, when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. "Ed! The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it."
"You know where the button is," I protested through the shower(pitter-patter). "Reset it yourself!"
"I am scared!" she pleaded. "What if it starts going and sucks me in?" (Pause) "C'mon, it'll only take a second."
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was not without consequence. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button. It is the last action I remember performing.
It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, It wasn't a hexed disposal drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws. I lost all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed, with the full weight of a kitten hanging from my masculine region.
Wild animals are sometimes faced with a "fight or flight" syndrome. Men, in this predicament, choose only the "flight" option. Fleeing straight up, the sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing hysterical laughter. At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk about.
"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?"
If they had only known.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The stuff of family legend
October 17, 2010
Way back when in 1984, about a year after my father died, my mother decided it was time for a road trip. She loaded me and my grandmother in her car and off we went, heading south, to Williamsburg, Virginia.
Forget the historical significance of Williamsburg. Mumsy had a culturally lower destination in mind - The Pottery Shop. If you've never been, think treasure hunt, because sitting side-by-side with some really tacky shit are true finds.
Williamsburg is about a four to four and a half hour drive from where I live, depending on traffic, etc. We left at five o'clock in the morning. It was dark. I whined. Mumsy hit the DC beltway, and I cowered in fear in the backseat with a pillow over my head. It became very clear that my mother did, in fact, possess the need-for-speed gene, and I didn't only get mine from my dad. I got the double whamee. I knew we were in trouble when she noted the speedometer only went to 100, and she slowed to 80 and kept right on going without missing a beat, passing everything on the road. When we got to Fredricksburg, I took the driver's seat and refused to budge. The color came back into my grandmother's face.
1984 was a time before cell phones. We reached The Pottery Shop and those two women took off like they'd been shot from a rocket. I didn't see them again for hours. I'd like to think they missed me, but who knows? Who cares? I had the car keys. Which meant I carefully packed my treasure in the trunk first. I'm not just another pretty face, you know.
When nothing else would fit in the trunk and the vacant spot on the backseat, and remember trunks were bigger in those days, we headed home. In a moment of weakness, I gave the keys back to Mumsy with the proviso I would drive from Fredericksburg home, which meant I'd drive the beltway. No problem - except for the fact that Mumsy was on I95 south to get to Williamsburg so she took I95 south to get home. You see the problem with this? It was my fault. I was in the backseat with my nose in a book. When I finally realized what was going on, Mumsy wanted to argue. I told her to wake me up when we hit the North Carolina line. She did turn around.
We finally made it home, and the day became the stuff of family legend. My grandmother declined to go with us again, citing it was too long a day for a woman her age. Personally, I think my grandfather had waaaay too much fun without her that day...But that's another story.
Mom and I had so much fun the trip to Williamsburg is an annual October pilgrimage for us. Every year, the first one out of bed calls the other. (I let her win, you understand.) We hit the open road at six in the morning, and we don't stop chattering until we get back in the evening, well after sundown. We see each other all the time, talk on the phone daily, but there's something about our trip that finds us sharing deeper feelings and opinions.
And that's the real reason we still go. We don't need additional earthly 'treasures'. Our storehouses are full. We are so blessed to have everything we need and most of what we want. In these times, the trip is a luxury, of sorts. A selfish day we share. A day for me to store up memories to hold me over through the times ahead when my mother won't be with me.
In the new millennium, we've missed a few years due to various reasons, but this year is a "go." The only variable is the day. Will it be this coming Friday or Saturday? Depends on the weather. It's a long way to drive in the rain so we don't.
And yes, I do ALL the driving now.
Way back when in 1984, about a year after my father died, my mother decided it was time for a road trip. She loaded me and my grandmother in her car and off we went, heading south, to Williamsburg, Virginia.
Forget the historical significance of Williamsburg. Mumsy had a culturally lower destination in mind - The Pottery Shop. If you've never been, think treasure hunt, because sitting side-by-side with some really tacky shit are true finds.
Williamsburg is about a four to four and a half hour drive from where I live, depending on traffic, etc. We left at five o'clock in the morning. It was dark. I whined. Mumsy hit the DC beltway, and I cowered in fear in the backseat with a pillow over my head. It became very clear that my mother did, in fact, possess the need-for-speed gene, and I didn't only get mine from my dad. I got the double whamee. I knew we were in trouble when she noted the speedometer only went to 100, and she slowed to 80 and kept right on going without missing a beat, passing everything on the road. When we got to Fredricksburg, I took the driver's seat and refused to budge. The color came back into my grandmother's face.
1984 was a time before cell phones. We reached The Pottery Shop and those two women took off like they'd been shot from a rocket. I didn't see them again for hours. I'd like to think they missed me, but who knows? Who cares? I had the car keys. Which meant I carefully packed my treasure in the trunk first. I'm not just another pretty face, you know.
When nothing else would fit in the trunk and the vacant spot on the backseat, and remember trunks were bigger in those days, we headed home. In a moment of weakness, I gave the keys back to Mumsy with the proviso I would drive from Fredericksburg home, which meant I'd drive the beltway. No problem - except for the fact that Mumsy was on I95 south to get to Williamsburg so she took I95 south to get home. You see the problem with this? It was my fault. I was in the backseat with my nose in a book. When I finally realized what was going on, Mumsy wanted to argue. I told her to wake me up when we hit the North Carolina line. She did turn around.
We finally made it home, and the day became the stuff of family legend. My grandmother declined to go with us again, citing it was too long a day for a woman her age. Personally, I think my grandfather had waaaay too much fun without her that day...But that's another story.
Mom and I had so much fun the trip to Williamsburg is an annual October pilgrimage for us. Every year, the first one out of bed calls the other. (I let her win, you understand.) We hit the open road at six in the morning, and we don't stop chattering until we get back in the evening, well after sundown. We see each other all the time, talk on the phone daily, but there's something about our trip that finds us sharing deeper feelings and opinions.
And that's the real reason we still go. We don't need additional earthly 'treasures'. Our storehouses are full. We are so blessed to have everything we need and most of what we want. In these times, the trip is a luxury, of sorts. A selfish day we share. A day for me to store up memories to hold me over through the times ahead when my mother won't be with me.
In the new millennium, we've missed a few years due to various reasons, but this year is a "go." The only variable is the day. Will it be this coming Friday or Saturday? Depends on the weather. It's a long way to drive in the rain so we don't.
And yes, I do ALL the driving now.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
In the news
October 16, 2010
I should have skipped the headline news this morning while swilling down some really nasty pomegranate juice.
It seems the Charger is NOT one of the cars Forbes says is most likely to be ticketed by the police. I find that amazing because I've discovered the Charger only has two speeds - fast and go faster.
It seems people still don't know how to save energy. Okay folks. Fifty-three years of being told to turn the lights off when I leave a room is ENOUGH. I got it.
The Dow closed the week over 11K. Sorta like the current work-in-progress, the one with the December deadline.
Rapper Vanilla Ice is starting a gig on ...say what?... HGTV??? That's just weird.
And lastly, Maryland authorities plan to curb drug use in Green Ridge State Forest. Hey, dudes. It's October. The camping season is over...
I should have skipped the headline news this morning while swilling down some really nasty pomegranate juice.
It seems the Charger is NOT one of the cars Forbes says is most likely to be ticketed by the police. I find that amazing because I've discovered the Charger only has two speeds - fast and go faster.
It seems people still don't know how to save energy. Okay folks. Fifty-three years of being told to turn the lights off when I leave a room is ENOUGH. I got it.
The Dow closed the week over 11K. Sorta like the current work-in-progress, the one with the December deadline.
Rapper Vanilla Ice is starting a gig on ...say what?... HGTV??? That's just weird.
And lastly, Maryland authorities plan to curb drug use in Green Ridge State Forest. Hey, dudes. It's October. The camping season is over...
Monday, October 4, 2010
Amber Allure Top Ten Best Sellers September 2010
**Update - Amber Quill Press has closed but it doesn't detract from the success of these books.**
October 4, 2010
A big congratulation to all the Amber Allure authors who had new releases in September 2010. I didn't have a book release in the September (or scheduled October for that matter), but look for my next release, What You Don't Confess, on November 14th.
In the meantime, thanks for supporting these talented writers.
AMBER ALLURE / September 2010
1. Wolf's Survival - T. A. Chase (Gay / Werewolf)
2. Twice In A Lifetime - Shawn Lane (Gay / Contemporary)
3. Sonoran Heat - Katrina Strauss (Gay / Contemporary)
4. Tommy's Blind Date - Anne Brooke (Gay / Contemporary)
5. Driven To Distraction - Anah Crow & Dianne Fox (Gay / Contemporary)
6. (Boys Of The Zodiac) Libra: Outlined In Ink - Vivien Dean (Gay / Suspense)
7. Wicked Cool - Val Kovalin (Gay / Suspense)
8. Workin' On The Railroad - Deirdre O'Dare (Gay / Contemporary)
9. The Brothers Of Hogg's Hollow - G. R. Richards (Gay / Contemporary)
10. Sonata Appassionata - Cat Grant (Gay / Contemporary)
What You Don't Confess is available now at
Amazon, iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and other online book sellers.
October 4, 2010
A big congratulation to all the Amber Allure authors who had new releases in September 2010. I didn't have a book release in the September (or scheduled October for that matter), but look for my next release, What You Don't Confess, on November 14th.
In the meantime, thanks for supporting these talented writers.
AMBER ALLURE / September 2010
1. Wolf's Survival - T. A. Chase (Gay / Werewolf)
2. Twice In A Lifetime - Shawn Lane (Gay / Contemporary)
3. Sonoran Heat - Katrina Strauss (Gay / Contemporary)
4. Tommy's Blind Date - Anne Brooke (Gay / Contemporary)
5. Driven To Distraction - Anah Crow & Dianne Fox (Gay / Contemporary)
6. (Boys Of The Zodiac) Libra: Outlined In Ink - Vivien Dean (Gay / Suspense)
7. Wicked Cool - Val Kovalin (Gay / Suspense)
8. Workin' On The Railroad - Deirdre O'Dare (Gay / Contemporary)
9. The Brothers Of Hogg's Hollow - G. R. Richards (Gay / Contemporary)
10. Sonata Appassionata - Cat Grant (Gay / Contemporary)
What You Don't Confess is available now at
Amazon, iTunes, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and other online book sellers.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
5 Kiss Review for The Back Stairs
October 2, 2010
It's refreshing to get a review from a reviewer that does what she does simply because she loves to read! Hats off to Tina at Two Lips Reviews, and many thanks.
Here's what she had to say about The Back Stairs.
I found The Backstairs by K. C. Kendricks to be a really intriguing read. I never really knew what was coming next and I found that fascinating. The chemistry between Fallon and Sundown was hot, but it was Sundown's story that I really found memorable. I would love to know more about people like Sundown, so I hope there is a series spin off here in the future. I cannot tell you more - it would spoil the book - but it is really a fresh take on shapeshifters that I really hope is explored more.
This book also touches on the idea of loving someone regardless of gender and about gender being what you feel inside rather than what you are on the outside. I really loved this story on many levels and highly recommend it. It has hot man-love in it for anyone who loves it like I do, but the story itself is unforgettable. I know I am not going to forget it anytime soon. I completely applaud K. C. Kendricks for coming up with a character twist that kept me guessing till the last page was turned. - Tina for Two Lips Reviews
Read the entire review here.
And to answer a question, yes, Tina, there will be more of Sundown soon.
KC
**Update** The Back Stairs is available at
www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thebackstairs-2004038-145.html
It's refreshing to get a review from a reviewer that does what she does simply because she loves to read! Hats off to Tina at Two Lips Reviews, and many thanks.
Here's what she had to say about The Back Stairs.
I found The Backstairs by K. C. Kendricks to be a really intriguing read. I never really knew what was coming next and I found that fascinating. The chemistry between Fallon and Sundown was hot, but it was Sundown's story that I really found memorable. I would love to know more about people like Sundown, so I hope there is a series spin off here in the future. I cannot tell you more - it would spoil the book - but it is really a fresh take on shapeshifters that I really hope is explored more.
This book also touches on the idea of loving someone regardless of gender and about gender being what you feel inside rather than what you are on the outside. I really loved this story on many levels and highly recommend it. It has hot man-love in it for anyone who loves it like I do, but the story itself is unforgettable. I know I am not going to forget it anytime soon. I completely applaud K. C. Kendricks for coming up with a character twist that kept me guessing till the last page was turned. - Tina for Two Lips Reviews
Read the entire review here.
And to answer a question, yes, Tina, there will be more of Sundown soon.
KC
**Update** The Back Stairs is available at
www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thebackstairs-2004038-145.html
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