Wow! What a summer! I know we gots a few weeks a’ official summer left, but let’s start the party now and make it last until September 21^st. We’re pirates, we can do it!

And the bar is fully stocked and ready to go… Let’s see, we got the pretty sunset one, let’s call that a Pirate Sunset. Then we gots the white creamy looking one and I’m not gonna get near naming that, ya filthy minded wenches! The purty orange one I’m calling the Kraken’s Froth. The white and red one…? Let’s not go there either.  Well, OK… Blood and Cream! The last looks like something wit’ chocolate in it… I’m going fer Yummy.

Now, it’s just a matter of picking yer sweat inducin’ activity… I gots Frisbee…

 We got Slick here willin’ ta teach anyone interested in surfing… He’s a bit blurry looking, think he’s been in the water a bit long. But that jus’ means he’s a good surfer… Or not. He might fall off his board too much… Well! Fun in the water then!

 Or the lads are always happy ‘bout stringing up a net and breaking out the volleyball…

 If you’d rather play wit’ what’s familiar…sailing! 

 Fer Q, I brought along a snorkling instructor…look at her go!

 Now me? I got Sam here and we’re gonna kick back in the shade and polish off some mojitos!

Have fun!

Sam? I need one a’ those mojitos now, this were hard ta do! Time ta turn the hottie postin’ over ta someone new! Yer turn, Hal!

No guest this week, but I’m sure we’ll all come up with brilliant things ta discuss on ‘r own!

You know, I’ve had some strange weekends this summer. And in contemplating all I’ve done, I realize somewhere along the path of my life, I made some interesting choices. And per discussions earlier this summer regarding how perspective changes as you age, I took some time to wrap my head around how I got here.

Honestly, how did I end up with dressing up to attend the Northern California Pirate Festival on Saturday, then put on my lime green and turquoise to support my NASCAR driver, Carl Edwards, at the race in Infineon Raceway? On the same weekend? The path I walked to get here is really convoluted!

When younger, you have a myriad of possibilities ahead of you. The world is your buffet and you have the power to choose and choose and choose. Of course, my experience with youth is that they waste these choices. Or more importantly, they waste the opportunity to change their mind. To admit they made a mistake, learn from it and take a step backwards. They are so focused on the future and forward momentum, that they refuse to retreat, regroup, re-choose.

The older you get, if you’re lucky, you are more forgiving of your bad choices…or…let’s call them poor choices or simply not the best choices…and you don’t let them limit what you do next. Be it retreat and redo or simply move forward ignoring what you did before.

For example, in school you pick a major that you believe you’ll love and, most importantly, you’ll earn a damned good living at. You are three years into the four year degree. And, man…this sucks. But you picked it! You can’t retreat! That would be like giving up. And you have these student loans to pay and you need the money and…and…and… So, you finish the degree, you get a job, you work it.

And you’re basically miserable. Now, your parents told you that if you really wanted to change degrees, they’d help out, they’d support you. Your friends at the time told you to dump the accounting classes and follow your heart into the theater, dentistry, whatever. But, you felt honor bound, if I can call it that, to finish what you started.

Sigh.

Youth can see things so black and white. Characters in fiction often operate in this fashion also. We, the writers, need them to do this so we can teach them why they are wrong and offer up a solution that involves falling in love, having a child, taking a new job, or, when I write, saving the world.

It’s always the extreme choices that make the best fiction, IMHO. But!

Extreme choices don’t always make the best real life.

I made a lot of interesting choices. I seldom let one wrong choice lead me for long. I’d make a rotten character in a story! Or I’d be the flakey woman who the heroine would badger for being flakey.

Anyway! I was believer in real black or white. As most young people are. And I flitted, but I flitted thinking this was the one thing I’d be called to do! Yes! And this would be the one friend, the one who I’d bond with for life.

Eh, never worked that way. As I get older, I realize this was all about choices I made and choices I unmade. And it was good. (Okay, I made one choice that I stuck with, I am the woman who celebrated 30 years married in May.)

At the urging of the Bo’sun, I went to the movies and saw “Letters From Juliet” a while ago and I was quite charmed. (For one thing Franko Nero is hot. And my new poster man for every silverton hero I write from now on.)

*fanning myself

But I love how the idea of making a choice is revisited in this movie! Firstly, you have young lead, who gradually realizes she can actually change her mind. The young male lead, who does and has his heart broken. (For a little while. It is a HEA movie, after all.)

But to me, the real story was the senior heroine. At 15, she chose to follow her parent’s lead and not her heart. And she didn’t go to Leonardo. She went home to England, met a man, married, had children, who had children. She didn’t really regret, but she wondered. And when reminded that choices can be revisited, she did it.

She’s so brave as they search for her Leonardo…and they see a lot of nice, senior, hot men.

*fans self again

But when finally facing the reality of her Leonardo, she tries to back away. It’s too scary, it’s too real. Luckily, he arrives and the reality of him sweeps her doubts away. For me, the movie could have ended there, but they had to finish up with the main lead story, the kids.

Ho hum. Both Bo’sun and I felt this was handled a bit awkwardly, but it concluded nicely and everyone was happy, walking among the vineyards of Italy.

Vanessa Redgrave was wonderful. And she and Franko Nero are husband and wife! They met decades ago while filming Camelot. Hard to beat that for real romance! And a choice that lasted.

Topic of the day: Choices. The good, the bad, the ugly. And the redos, the new choices…writing, living, watching. Your experiences? The experiences of your characters?

But really, do we need the hardware or do we need the hotties?

I mean, we need a planner, someone who isn’t just about the muscles…

Then we need the muscles…

And more muscles…who knows the importance of hydration.

All that heavy lifting, ya know?

And for Q, someone to make sure we build an adequate liquor cabinet for the good scotch!

Now, who needs what built and where? I’d like to see a swing to hang from the yardarm…a swing for two…

I must admit, I am not an expert. Of anything. But I find I’m quite impressed by those who are experts, of just about anything. I guess I’ve never developed the obsession with any topic to consider myself an expert in it.

Yes, I have read Lord of the Rings more times than I can count, but I am not an expert.

I have seen a lot of movies, but I am not a movie trivia person. Or can speak of movies with anything more than everyday words. No education in the nuances of the theater. Same with soundtracks. Same with television shows. No matter the genre. I like ‘em, I watch ‘em, listen to them… But it’s not the same.

I’ve got a degree in language and literature.

Still not an expert of either. Granted, it’s an Associates of Arts Degree, but it counts as somewhat higher education.

I found when I used to attend science fiction/fantasy conventions on a regular basis, that what I knew of the genres, no matter how big a fan I was, did not make me an expert. There is always someone at a convention that will be able to quote dialogue, character trivia or something that will make it plain to any small bit of personal ego that I know nothing. Absolutely, fricking nothing. (Geeks can be extremely hung up on the idea of expertise, ya gotta love that about them.)

I attend Renaissance Fairs…not a historical expert on anything. (I probably drive the experts crazy at the fairs. I wear earrings, the color purple, mix eras…but what the heck! It’s for fun!)

I attend Pirate Festivals… I am an expert on my own pirate world. But the reality of historical pirates? HA! Took an online course on the subject once and again, was humbled to realize I knew less than more. (So glad the festivals don’t care about authenticity. They’re pirates!)

All in all, as I age, I embrace the entire concept that the more I learn, the more there is to learn.

And I accept the simple truth that I enjoy learning, but am totally uninterested in dedicating myself to reaching expert status on … well… anything.

But I really admire those who are struck with this sort of dedication in regards to whatever it is they are interested in. Those who dive into those intricate degrees, or simply those fascinations that spark them to memorize, to understand, to make it part of their mental treasures.

I’m more of a flutterer. I flutter here, I flit there. I’m the sort who read the table of contents, the appendices…but seldom read the book in depth. I have a dozen books or more on pirates. I really like to look at the pictures and read snippets…

But I like experts! I find them fascinating. Generally, when I admit to an interest, they encourage questions and I learn. (Sure, some are jerks. But there are jerks everywhere.)

I know a bit about a great many things. I know wild flowers. I know mountain ranges. I know old school adventure books. I know fabrics (thanks to a Mom who sews.) Thanks to years at a metaphysical bookstore I know a fair amount about the new age and some of the old age religions.

Nope, not an expert on anything. I’d like to be an expert on any number of things. Irish history, geology, astronomy, astrology, archeology, dog training, baking, cooking, architecture, yoga, snorkeling, blades…

I love it when a book teaches me something. And I wonder whether these authors are experts or just good researchers. For example, Annette Blair has a series featuring vintage clothing and she sprinkles a wonderful amount of information about this topic in the books. Nora Roberts had a series featuring a glass blower that astounded me with the depth of detail she wrote. Made me want to learn glass blowing!

Eloisa’s series taught me a lot about chess in history. So many books with cooking heroines have honed my interest in cooking. Nevada Barr stuffs her books with information about national parks, some I’ve been to, some I haven’t. They are fascinating!

And it’s a nice passive sort of learning. I like that!

I remember watching Fiona of “Burn Notice” trying to entertain a child. Something she was woefully ill equipped to do. So what did she do? She played GI Joe with him, discussing the weaponry with him. Teaching him about what she is an expert in.

My most recent book? I did some research into the details of how a book is put together. The paper folding, hand stitching, etc. I have no idea if I put enough information into the story to entice a reader about the craft. But I enjoyed reading up on it, as it is something I have always wanted to do. One of these days, I’ll take a class.

What about you? Are you expert on anything in particular? When you write, do you use that expertise to add depth and detail to your stories? Your characters? What would you like to be an expert of, given any choice? Have you ever read anything that inspired you to take a class? Look for a teacher? Explore on your own? And for the sake of starting a fight, is being an expert necessary to a writer’s credentials?

Being the pirate I am, I infiltrated the innards of the Food Network and absconded with a few of their prize chefs. Well, I borrowed them, to be politically correct. I figured we need to throw an end of summer feast in a few weeks and thought I’d get the menu lined up…

Aaron Sanchez, cooking sizzling latin cuisine, sure to set the lips on fire! (I do like his fuzz…and dig those tats!)

Michael Symon, straight from the bowels of the Iron Chef bunker and eager to get some sun on his face!

Guy Fieri, promises to bring all the decadently high calorie foods from his hit show, Diners, Drive Ins and Dives to the deck!

Giada DeLaurentis, because Q deserves something nice to look at…

Anyone else watch Food Network and have a favorite chef to, ah…borrow for the party?

Yes, Hellie, I think I’m revisiting something you dabbled at some months back. I honestly don’t remember, but I’m gonna blame that on my age and all the rum. And my natural reluctance to address issues when first directed toward them.

I’m like that. Contrary. Dodgy.

I find if asked directly to consider something, I am blind to it. As if one of those eye diseases where I can’t focus on what is directly in front of me. I can slide around the periphery with ease… You know, it’s like trying to look directly at a dim star, you can see it better with peripheral vision than focusing on it. There’s a name for this, I learned it in astronomy class. And, of course, I don’t remember what it is!

From a purely psychological point of view, I think it’s my coping mechanism for gaining time and distance so I can consider the question. I am a reflector, not a reactor. I want to reflect and consider before responding. Even if I’m not aware I’m doing it, I do it. At least I’m figuring out that is what I’m doing! So give me some points here!

And this was one of those things I did when leaving the Award’s Luncheon at the Nationals. I figured I’d play with what she’d talked about…see what I could come up with after some consideration. I’d listened to Jayne Ann Krentz talk about the things an author needs to know. And thought it interesting, her taking the core of her stories from genre to genre. I was toying with the whole idea in the back of my brain, flitting about with what my core story would be…

Boy meets girl? Nope.

Well, no more than this is in most every book…

I generally suck at coming up with these things. I guess there is the damsel in distress…man, help me out here!

I left the luncheon feeling a bit bemused. (The desert was nice, but not the absolute ideal they served the next night, btw.) I found the Bo’sun and commented that the idea of a core to my writing was appealing, but I had no ideas what it was.

She, being brilliant, cast a look at me that just spoke volumes regarding my blindness. And as I mentioned some weeks ago, delivered to me my core. Everyone deserves a 2^nd Chance.

I think I snickered. I also bowed to her sharp intellect that saw what was so obvious…to her. I’ve been floundering with putting together a nice hook for my website and business cards, something that spoke to what I wrote. What my books promise to a reader. And *bam*, the Bo’sun slaps me across the face with it.

Everyone should have someone like the Bo’sun in their life.

Perhaps it is easier to see this in someone else’s work than in one’s own. Yesterday, Hal started a conversation on the cliché/myth of most fiction. I think what I’m looking for touches on that idea, but I’m not certain.

(Couldn’t help but insert this movie poster. So appropriate and a movie I really enjoyed…)

Krentz talked about her first book, being more in the science fiction/paranormal romance realm. Something that wasn’t really making the rounds yet. After numerous rejections, she rewrote it as a historical. And it sold. Same basic story, just minus the other world, funky critters, etc. And she really analyzed her work before figuring out how to take her core and write it in several genres. And sometimes things didn’t transition well, so she took on another pen name and began again.

I could certainly take ‘everyone deserves a 2^nd chance’ and write that story in every genre out there. (Not that I care to do so. But it’s an interesting possibility!) I think I’d be drawn toward contemporary more than any other genre if I did leave behind my alternate pirate adventure erotic romance stuff.

I do like the visual of this idea…starting from the core of a world and building the layers outward…

So, what are the standard core ideas you read? What are some that you write? Or hear about? If you know yours, what other genres could you see taking your core story into?

It all began with Edward…in 1990.

Progressed to another Ed. Wood this time…in 1994

On to another transformation, the deliciously intrepid Ichabod Crane…in 1999.

He gave Johnny new teeth with Willy Wonka…in 2005.

And made a cartoon out of him in the Corpse Bride…also in 2005.

Ah, the deliciously devious Sweeny Todd…leaving me to recite, when in doubt, What Would Sweeny Do? In 2007.

The child man of the Mad Hatter in 2010…

And coming up?

The new Barnabas?

What would you like to see Johnny try next? What literary character? You have a favorite Johnny role?

And sorry Q, nothing special for you today! No guest coming up this week, just we intrepid pirate writers and our brilliance! Stay tuned!

- “Having an evil twin ain’t all bad. I have someone to blame everything on!” Dead Reckoning blew the flaming Twinkie out. The rum soaked treat cast an eerie flicker against the railing before going out with a puff of smoke. She took a messy bite, trying to catch the cream as it dribbled down her shirt.

Chance shivered, trying to block the conversation out as she hunched over the bowl of mini chocolate chips, painstakingly stuffing them one by one into the creamy white filling of a huge stack of waiting snack cakes.

- Bo’sun reached over and stabbed at the melted remains on Reckoning’s plate, getting a bite for herself. “It was all Scapegoat’s fault, anyway. Handy having her share the room. I like having someone to blame everything on!”

- “Hey! I brought the rum!” Scape’s brow wrinkled perfectly. “I knew I should have…”

- Chance looked up to glare at the blond. “Shut it or I’ll sic Stitch on you. Soon as he’s finished chasing the monkey.” The bartender groaned as she straightened her back, glancing at the Double Stuffed Twinkie pyramid; three feet high, glistening with sugar and sitting in a puddle of rum. “Quit eating them, I want to do this right!”

Sin reached out of the shadows, her black clad arm appearing as if unattached to a body. “Hey! Twinkies!”

Just then Chance threw the lit match on the stack. Sin jerked away as the whoosh of flame rose into the night…

Chance began her chant, “I am not an imposter… I am not an imposter… I am not…”

A delighted shriek filled the air as a blue streak flew from the yardarm. “TWINKIES!”

The white fluff, caramelized cake and melted chocolate flew into the air to rain down on the five pirates. Sin rushed to the water barrel and began to douse the bits of flame scattered on the deck, muttering about upsetting the captain.

- “This is my fault,” Scapegoat moaned.

The Bo’sun calmly picked a large piece of pastry out of Reckoning’s shoulder and popped it into her mouth. Reckoning did the same to the Bo’sun.

- Chance looked at the blue alien, stuffing remains of the ritualistic bonfire into his mouth and sighed. “Guess I need to actually rationally figure this out…”

The Nationals. I had a great time. I met with my agent. Stuck my foot in my mouth with my won-on-FB mentor, insulted Jennifer Ashley when I tried to compliment her… Drank too much (or not enough, I’m not sure), missed hearing Nora speak… Dressed up like a fixer of air ships at a party where no one knew me. (I lurk on the FF&P boards, but am invisible.)

Great time! Felt wonderful!

Until Saturday night. At the RITAS. Well, after the RITAS.

OK, confession time. I do not see myself ever winning a RITA. Ever. I don’t dream of it. Don’t really…well…want one. (I wouldn’t mind a Prism Award… I could see me with one a’ those!)

Am I fooling myself and secretly lust for a RITA? I don’t think so… I wouldn’t turn one down, I just doubt that anything I write will ever fit into this possibility. So, why envision that. I’d rather envision other thing…like me on the cover of Pirate Magazine… (You check out the copy I left with you yet, Bo’sun?)

Nice ceremony, fair dinner, fabulous desert. (Really fabulous desert. Wow, that desert. I mean…oh, sorry…) Of the 93 nominated books, I’d read three of them. All the cheering, clapping, whoo-hooing…I felt a clamor starting in my head, what was I doing here?

I remember feeling this way last year in DC. An acute attack of imposter-itis. This time, it got worse, culminating back in the room while Scape and the Bo’sun changed from nice dresses to last-night-bar comfies… I broke down in tears.

Tried not to! Lost that fight.

Sigh.

Tried to explain to my roomies how out of place and awkward I felt during and after the RITAS. Bo’sun chatted up her editor friend; Scape her editor friend. (Both have my book in their in-boxes…leaving me as the deer-in-headlight struck super boob. What to say that wouldn’t sound like pleading…)

In reaction to my tears and words, Scape spouts off, “All my fault, I should have…” I smacked her on the back of the head. (When I nicknamed her Scapegoat I had no idea how appropriate this name was! I was just trying to poke at how pretty and nice she was…you know how it is, I was poking at her…)

“This isn’t about you, twit, it’s about me. And the haunting presence of the lurking imposter.”

“You have an agent…why do you feel like you don’t belong here?” Bo’sun, queen of the obvious and practical, states.

Did I claim to understand or view my outburst as rational?

(I washed my face, took a pill and enjoyed the rest of the evening…don’t worry.)

Nope, just my insecurities rising from four days of non-stop ‘doing’…the specter of PMS, distance from home and excessive heat/humidity. (Like my excuses? Wish they’d worked.) I actually am a confident writer. I love my stories. This isn’t about the writing skills. If anything, it’s about the sense of crashing a party I though was open to everyone…and feeling like a blue skinned alien at a Regency cotillion. (Though Stitch would probably take it all in stride. He’s my new role model.) (Imagine him dressed as a duke…he was nice as Elvis…)

Perhaps a confidence anxiety attack? PTSD stemming from an adolescent event I don’t remember when I was made to feel as outside an outsider can be?

I honestly don’t know!

There is the lurking sense that this is all some cosmic joke and I am a total imposter…on the verge of having the rug ripped from beneath my feet…

Absolutly, frickin’ terrifying place to be…

Hence, the sacrifice of many Double Stuffed Flaming Twinkies to hold back the dark…

Luckily, Stitch is visiting and saw through the whole thing…

Sigh. It couldn’t be that easy…

I may keep him around for awhile…

Anyone else know this masked shadow at your back? Any advice? Rituals? Banishing spells?

Anyone want to take best on who is gonna win – The Undead Monkey or Stitch?

(I insist on some fun for Friday, despite my angst attack!)

Sequels make it possible for generations to bridge the gap between hotness. What one age saw as adorable and luscious…changes. And sometimes, it works and sometimes…it don’t.

Ah, the choices!

So…

James West and Artemis Gordon…the originals and the redeux. I admit, I’d have a hard time choosing Arties. James? Robert Conrad, hands down.

Not really redeux. I mean this is a small selection of available Tarzans. I could have posted somewhere around twenty. Very popular franchise! I posted the three I liked the most, honestly… I sorta find the first a bit…enticing. Though Ron Ely was the one I grew up watching on the television.

Now, they are remaking Hawaii 5-0. And I’m thrilled to report that the new McGarret will not be the same man, but his nephew, or something like that. So I don’t have to make a choice. Yeah!

And for Q – The angels. I was never a fan of the originals, to be quite honest. And adore the total absurdity of the remake… You could tell they were having fun making the movies, and I love when that comes through the screen…

What do you think? And let’s admit, there are so many remakes. The Dukes of Hazard, Starsky and Hutch…who knows who is next? Well, that is for another Sunday!

OK, I’d never done this before. I don’t have kids and reading something aloud to your dogs just doesn’t really seem sane. And although that generally doesn’t really concern me…well, it just never happened.

I did take drama in junior college and worked on dramatic readings of lines, etc. I was memorizing and watching myself in a mirror. I was never very good at it, but I tried to have fun and just enjoy the class and what it taught me about myself. Good teacher. So good, I took the follow up classes. Just because I liked him.

No, not that way! He was a good instructor!

When I got my book back from my agent, with corrections to make, she warned me about overuse of pronouns and too much passive voice. Well, I thought…OK. What do I do about it? How do I find it and what the hell is it?

(Not pronouns, I do know that much. I have a degree in language and literature, you know.)

Yes, I did some reading about passive voice/active voice. Even read Dead Reckoning’s blog on show vs. tell, which she assured me is the same thing. I guess.

Yes, I’m in a lot of denial about this whole thing. But, Terri convinced me to read the book out loud and I’d hear what needed to be tweaked.

Really?

I mean, I kept reading about how this was a great technique. Most classes I took suggested it. I didn’t have anything against the idea…

I admit, I worried a bit about how foolish I’d feel. I have a very odd bit of self-consciousness that rears its ugly head at odd times. I mean, alone, in my house? Who cares?! Like Bonnie would care…

(She actually seemed to find it a bit entertaining. The cat? Totally uninterested. But that is cats.)

So, yes, I printed out the whole thing. My frugal, environmental self insisted we do it on the back of something I’d already printed, so I had to be careful to keep it all in order. And I sat down to read. I decided I’d try 5 chapters and see how it went.

Well, I went hoarse. Tea. That was the ticket. Some throat coat tea, lemon flavored. Used to turn the trick when I sang a lot. It helped. I wondered, how do moms manage the whole Harry Potter books without being constantly hoarse?

Terri said, “Don’t read it loud! Don’t shout!”

Well, hell…it’s dramatic! My inner thespian said read it with vigor! After the tea and a hydrating shower, I read another five chapters. That put me half way through the book! Cool! (Husband arrived home partway through. He later said he had the impression it was all about sex, all the time. Hee, hee.)

I found things to tweak. Especially repetitive words and places to replace pronouns. The passive/active stuff? I’m not sure. I worked at varying sentence form, untwisted a few twisty places. (I’m hell with keeping my timeline even, ask Terrio, she’ll tell you.)

I took the next morning and entered the corrections. And then tackled the second half of the book. This time, with a bottle of water at my side.

My eldest sister has often talked of reading Tarzan to her kids on long car trips. And Lord of the Rings… Did she ever lose her voice?

I’m lucky, I don’t need my voice for much during the day. But it has been decades since I’ve been this hoarse. Reminds me of rock concerts…but no ringing ears. Or high school football games…

But the cat still seemed bored.

OK. It was helpful. In fact, I think I’m going to try this with other books and see how much I find to clean up. A painter friend of mine spoke of how painters will look at their work in a mirror to see elements they miss with normal perspective. I assume this works in a similar fashion. A teacher friend of mine said reading aloud is a great teaching tool. Well, I learned new things!

I did find that Emily’s dialogue was a lot easier for me to read. But she’s a modern woman, not so unusual. It was harder with Alan. He speaks in a more formal manner, with the educated fashion of the era. (No, no extreme piratese for him.) I wondered if the difficulty meant it needed to be corrected, and decided against it. It reads fine. I think it’s just me.

I am an extremely informal woman with my speech; to twist it in a formal way was difficult. Not to mention all the cursing Emily erupts with when having sex… I write foul language, I seldom actually use it. While Emily has a foul mouth. She was a bartender…

So, anyone else ever played with this technique? I know Terrio has, she bragged about it. How does one do this without going hoarse? Any favorite remedies for a raw throat? Play with it. It is Friday and that means play. I dare ya, read a chapter of your stuff out loud. And let us know how it went for you!