Day: November 22, 2015

JFK Assassination Remembered

Today is the 52nd anniversary of JFK’s assassination.

I guess that makes me old.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday. I was on the playground at recess, and my older cousin came out and told us the president had been killed. I called him a liar. I mean, who murders the president? The concept was so alien, I couldn’t understand it.

My grandmother (a Democrat) said to my mother (a Republican): “I guess you’re happy now.” Mom was appalled that Gram could think that.

Two days later, the accused assassin was murdered on live TV. Yes, I witnessed it. I remember thinking Jack Ruby killed Lee Harvey Oswald as part of a conspiracy. Yet when I mentioned this theory to my fellow third-grade classmates, I was told I was crazy. Jack Ruby was so distraught over Kennedy’s death, he killed the murderer.

I wrote a poem and read it in class. November rhymes beautifully with remember. And that’s about all I recall of it.

One of my favorite quotes about the assassination comes from Bob Dylan’s novel, Tarantula: “Why didn’t [the Warren Commission] ask some banana salesman who was in Des Moines that day? Why didn’t they ask me?”

Flash forward to September 11, 2001. Another event that shakes up the USA and forever changes the way we approach life. My husband and I sat down with our children to explain what was going on (and that Grandma, who lived in NYC was fine). It was then we realized our son was the same age and in the same grade as my husband when Kennedy was killed. Our daughter was the same age and in the same grade I was on that day. Kind of weirded us out.

I visited the Sixth Floor Museum in 2004 when I was in Dallas for the RWA Conference. I peered out the window from which Oswald allegedly shot. I saw the grassy knoll. I’ve watched the Zapruder film over and over. My husband and I watched countless specials on the 5oth anniversary.

My conclusion?  We will never know the truth.

 

 

 

 

Story Bibles

One thing I cannot do without while writing my Toke Lobo & the Pack werewolf series is my story bible. I wish I’d kept it up to date a little better than I did. I’m correcting that now.

The story bible is a 3-ring binder that contains all the pertinent information about the series in one place:

  • how the characters are related to each other
  • hair and eye color; build; etc.
  • who plays which instrument in the band
  • pack status
  • all of my wolf, werewolf, and country music research
  • casual mentions of people in one book who might actually show up in another–example: in Moonlight Serenade, the character Luke mentions his cousin Drioni is the band’s webmistress. My first draft of Luke’s story mentioned Drioni was related to another character. Oops! Glad I thought to check that.
  • The physical sensations a human experiences when in the energy field of a shifting werewolf.

I have read series where the author changes something three or four books into the series, and I always find that discombobulating.

Solution: a story bible.

 

 

The Delta (Reluctant) Hero

(DISCLAIMER: This blog post originally appeared on Cathy McRae’s Bits & Bobs on Feb 11, 2015.)

Fleshing out Stoker Smith, hero of my new release, AND JERICHO BURNED, was a bit of a challenge. You see, he’s a werewolf. And werewolves, as opposed to the general population, are very alpha. Stoker is intimidating, dominating, and confident: all signs of alpha maleness. And yet, he’s not an alpha male. At least, not in his pack. He’s delta. A real middle of the pack kind of guy.

He has no desire to lead anything, mostly because leading would involve thinking and making decisions, and he has many more important things to do than clutter his brain with details other people are more qualified to ponder. Mostly he likes to compose music. He co-writes most of the songs performed by Toke Lobo & The Pack, the country band his pack alpha started. When he meets Lucy Callahan, heroine of the book, even making music takes a backseat to wanting to take her home and start making babies with her. His ultimate bliss is within reach–except for one or two things.

First of all, there’s Lucy. Lucy thinks. She plots and strategizes, and even failure doesn’t stop her from doing it again. Stoker knows he should be flattered when the pack alphas listen to her, because that’s an honor, but he and Lucy are delta. Deltas don’t think. His mate needs to learn that.

Then there’s her sister, Michelle, who is now part of his family. He promised Lucy he’d get Michelle away from that heavily-armed religious cult she joined. The pack alphas don’t want to hear that, so he has to deal with it himself. And while he’s capable, he’d much rather be led.

Except when someone hurts Lucy. Revenge is his and his alone. And that’s what makes it a romance.

Slice of Life Sunday: The Madness without Me

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It’s NCAA Basketball Tournament time again. In years past, I would take the afternoons off from work; I would have a tuna sandwich bar party; I would watch men’s college basketball until I dropped.

That habit gradually changed. The tournament was no longer exclusively on broadcast TV (and Superman help you if you refuse to pay your local cable monopoly for the higher tier channels, and I’m cable-challenged anyway.) Last year, my team left the beloved conference (ruined by football), so that dampened my spirit. And this year, my “home team” isn’t in any post-season at all.

This year, all the madness of March means to me is . . . baseball is right around the corner!

I watched college basketball—it’s practically a law in Syracuse—but it was tiring. There was no space or time to breathe the way there was in baseball. Baseball was spiritual, like yoga.

I could really use some spirituality right about now.

 

Catching Up on Language

A former co-worker posted a comment on Facebook that baffled me. He wrote, “Straight up Compton style.” While I liked his post (which was a video), I didn’t understand what Compton style had to do with the content. He explained: “. . . went rouge, gangsta or Compton . . .”

How cool is that!

I immediately posted this to the Compton Family Facebook page. So next time someone irritates me to the end of my patience, I can say, “Watch it or I’ll go Compton on you!”