Doing Nothing is Untrue

Is has been three months since my last lead on.

That's right. I'm fully aware that as a Pea, as a blogger, and as a speaker to our imaginary friends, I have been leading you on for months. I'd say it's because I've been doing nothing writerly since before Christmas 2012, but that'd be untrue.

It's an out and out lie actually.

Just since 2013's arrival, I registered for the national RWA Con (among others), I went to the Olde City New Blood Con in St. Augustine, I joined a local critique group, I met another amazing critique partner (who lives in Tennessee), I wrote my first worth-a-damn synopsis since I started this charade of being a writer, and I attended an event with Fairhope author Sonny Brewer (just this past weekend). Sha! It's true. I been doing stuffs! I even have another writer's conference scheduled for the first week of April. Why the hell didn't/haven't/wouldn't/willn't I blog about any of that?
Cause I have peas for brains!

(Clearly, I'm still in the anger/manic phase of this multi-staged return to pea blogging...)

And don't think the Peas haven't met semi-regularly either. Cause we have! J and I even concocted a slightly stalkery, INCREDIBLY fantastic, Princess/Sherlock/Benedict Cumberbatch themed birthday party for A (which was kind of for all of us really--let's face it). We even rallied together to get me through that worth-a-damn synopsis which scared me as much as a vat full of slugs and snails--which is a lot! (It seems my turret's word for this blog is: which.)

Heck! the group-text-dream-journal-entries the Peas trade daily... especially the one where Ziva from NCIS and I jump away from an erupting volcano, swim to Genoa, Italy, and sell all my parents belongings in a yard sale from a tent... those dream texts are proof positive that these peas have not lost the will to create. Our sub-consciousnesses demand it!

So if you're thinking that blue-masked Pea never blogs like she promised she would because she ain't been doing nothing...

Doing nothing is untrue.

I'm going to spend the next few blog posts groveling and getting you all caught up. (Yep... UP). First, the Olde City New Blood Con. It was awesome! You'll love it. See you back here soon for the skinny on the DL. (I have no idea what I'm typing. We'll just chalk it up to being out of practice.)

Peas and love.
M

Something Clever

I've wanted so badly to write something clever.

I read so many great blogs and I always wonder how do those writers keep it fresh, keep it going? How do YOU amazing bloggers keep all the contributors engaged and productive? Most impressively, how dost thou keep a single contributor going, going, going... especially when that individual is wholly aware that one's readers are imaginary friends?

It's no secret the luster and excitement behind the Inside the Pod posts has waned, dulled, dare I say... come to a screaming halt. I accept responsibility. I'm at least one third culpable. By that measure, I should at the very least post once every three weeks, right? I just haven't had any idea what to write. I wanted to make my fellow peas proud of the work I would do in their absence. And it's not very fun doing Game Pods alone. It just makes me sad that no one can come out to play. 

Then I was struck with a five part heart-squeezing realization...
A) My twenty year high school reunion is next year... which means time is passing at an alarming rate
B) A waiter told me I had a Thai-shaped head on my 16th wedding anniversary
C) I had a mind-blowing dream revelation that what my broken WIP needs is DRUGS as a plot line
D) I was mistaken for a man at the grocery store and will have a long conversation with my therapist Monday morning.
 ...Then Finally
E) I have logged text message conversations with A and J this week that include discussions of both French Toast Warfare and Tuna High Fevers.

No blog posts? No excuses.

When those three silly and ambitious writer girls set out to begin the Ninja Pea Blog, they never for a minute took themselves seriously. The whole point was random writerly related posts. The pod is information sharing, having fun with our writer friends and supporting them, and having a silly time. If someone got a laugh or a morsel or two of useful information...lagniappe. To quote THE Joker... Why so serious?

Somehow as the Peas got busy and I had this notion to continue alone, I felt I had to hone and forge amazing and clever words with eternal meaning.

What the hell was I thinking?

For goodness sake! There are three anthropomorphized peas in ninja masks on the banner of this blog. I've been taking myself way too seriously.

So that's where I am today. I'm inspired to get back in touch with the random-slightly-writerly-mostly-silly-and-misdirected-author-supportive-everything-we-love-blog that Inside the Pod was meant to be. And maybe... just maybe... if I can keep this thing on life support, the Peas will unsprout and return. Bare with me. This might get bumpy. But I hope I can lure a few readers back. I might even think of something clever.

Peas, Love, and Randomness
M

What I Miss Most

One of the things I miss most about being in a university setting is the accessibility to like minded people. It's really an amazing experience and, in a way, intellectually utopic. It's been almost three years since I graduated with my BA and I miss school. Not because I particularly miss writing papers (or the hour long one-way drive) but because I miss the hallway and coffee shop conversations with my classmates and professors. I miss my peers. I miss having access to all those writers and readers I engaged with daily. 

Developing Pea Swag--Bookmarks Anyone?

I think that's why I like the idea of the blog. But also why I failed at it several times when I'd tried to do one on my own. I like to talk about writing and reading more than anything. And a blog is a venue in which I'm able to engage in that dialog frequently from my home. Without the blog I have to rely on infrequent and quite expensive writers conferences. But I get bored with just my own thoughts and debates. Of course I have my Peas. That's not always enough. And it's not that my Peas aren't terrific smart ladies. But having access to intellectual and cognitive diversity is a wondrous thing. Which is why I've made a push to pull other voices into our blog. Not just so you, our imaginary readers, don't get bored with us. But, because I, your M Pea in the pod, am already bored with myself.

Along with the launch of my three part blog project with friend and award-winning screenwriter Kristall Burke, I plan to engage with others in interviews and blog prompts, as I can, to keep myself (and hopefully you) entertained. We, of course, have the occasional visit from Honorary Pea J.G. Walker but I hope to introduce you to many more of the writers and readers in a Pea's life. We hope to have Kristall come back, also tap into conversations with other writers we know, and introduce you to the many wonderful readers in our lives. 

Which brings me to a series I will launch week after next and the upcoming Friday blog post next week. I have a few writer blogs in the works and several posts that will involve a twelve (or more) question interview with several readers from many walks of life.

So stay tuned on Fridays for the next few weeks and we will see how this goes. I hope you enjoy the peek into other's thoughts and ideas as much as I do. Until then…

Peas to you. 

Daddy's Girl Weekend 2012

That's right! This past weekend was the Carolyn Haines Annual Daddy's Girls' Weekend Writer and Reader Party...er...I mean...Conference. This year the gathering was at the Malaga Inn in historic Mobile, AL. A beautiful venue shared with a lot of wonderful people. And the Peas were in attendance.

On the roster was, of course, our own Carolyn and the wonderful Sarah Bewley--cohorts in crime. In addition, Urban Fantasy Author Anton Strout, Penguin Group Editor Michelle Vega, Agent Marian Young, Tyrus Editor and Publisher Ben Leroy, and authors T.R. Pearson, Dean James, Will Irby, as well as, some other Urban Fantasy author named Jeannie Holmes (wink) and many, many others.

As usual, it was great fun and Big Daddy was in the house. Dean James graciously passed the baton to John Hafner as this year's Big Daddy and I'm quite sure Anton Strout was scandalized by a lap-dancing belly dancer. There are no rules of engagement when it comes to Big Daddy or winning prizes from them for the outrageous Jitty costumes people wore. Yep... that's how Carolyn rolls. Aren't you upset you missed it? I'm so glad I didn't!

The laughs and stories were many. For accounts and photographic proof of all the shenanigans check out the D. g. Weekend Facebook Page and Katie Wood Ruffin's Blog post. And I'm sure You Tube videos will surface whether people want them to or not.

In short, there were some great workshops and panels on process, screenwriting, and the industry. What's more--there were even better conversations to be had in the courtyard as we caught up with old friends and made new connections. Until next year! We can't wait.

Peas Out.

Guest Pod with Kristall Burke: Part One (Interview)

One of the coolest things about all of these social networking sites (that are now a part of our daily lives) is reconnection. Twenty years ago, if you neglected to ask for (or lost) someone’s snail mail address or phone number, it would be pure serendipity for two childhood classmates to find one another in adulthood. All you’d have left is a yearbook photo, a few handwritten scribbles, and a slippery memory. That was certainly the result of my life growing up an Air Force brat. With people coming in and out of my life at the start and stop of every school year, no traditional childhood hometown, and a family that moved every two to three years, it was so easy to lose touch. And to keep in touch over an ocean...well…a preteen would have to be pretty committed to penning a letter on paper and sticking a stamp on it, then waiting the two weeks to sometimes one month turnaround journey of an overseas letter. All of this was dependent on whether you’d even thought to ask for an address during the chaos of moving in the first place or weren’t too busy in your new school trying to make an all-new set of friends. So it’s amazing to think that people from our past can return to us with the click of a button. What’s even more amazing is to learn that one of those people from your childhood now shares the same passion that you do as an adult.

That’s how I found Kristall (Yoder) Burke. We were middle school classmates in Ramstein, Germany two decades ago. And with a click of a button, and 120-character (or less) wall post, I found her and found that she’d also grown up to become a writer.

M: Wow, Kristall. I think it was 1990 that last time we saw each other. My family had returned stateside in August of that year--I think we must have parted ways at the end of the school year. Strange to think we were both middle school military brats in Germany during the years right after the Berlin wall came down. Did you know then that you wanted to be a writer?

Kristall: It is amazing how quickly the years escape us, and baffles me the history we actually lived at such an impressionable age. No, I did not know I wanted to be a writer back then. I still thought I would be a Doctor without Borders one day and spent many hours writing about that dream. (laughs) My mom will tell you I have always been a writer.

M: (laughs) For myself, I knew I loved writing as early as middle school but it wasn’t until my second try at college in my late twenties that the idea fully formed and I took it seriously. Can you tell me, in short strokes (I know it’s a big question) what your path to writerdom looked like over the last twenty years?

Kristall: I also found my love of writing at a young age. Journaling always help me process the many moves and losses of military life. I have only actually begun to think of myself as a writer within the last six years or so. Growing up I always loved movies, partially because the Movie Theater or Kino was one of the only things to do as a military brat. I started taking theater classes as a way to help me overcome my shyness and fell in love with the craft. When my husband and I first moved to Austin, TX from Colorado Springs, CO, I jumped at the opportunity to try my hand at film acting. Austin has long been filmmaker friendly. Over the course of five or six years I was a working actor, trying to make a name for myself. It is a tough business. Sometime around 2005 a lot of our work was being outsourced into Louisiana due to a recent tax incentive for the film industry. A great acting coach/teacher, Mona Lee, suggested we take this time to write a screenplay and cast ourselves in it. It felt very natural to me and I was hooked. That screenplay, ‘Split’, was well received amongst my peers and I was encouraged to enter it into a film festival. I choose WorldFest Houston and won a Silver Remi Award in 2006. I was shocked.

M: Congratulations on the Remi! I know you recently submitted a screenplay. Where to and what is it about?

Kristall: My most recent screenplay is titled, ‘The Spectacular Spectacles’, I decided to submit it to the same film festival, WorldFest Houston. It is the third oldest film festival in this country and jumpstarted the careers of many great filmmakers. This screenplay is an action based family film. My main character, Spencer Murphy, is an awkward and shy boy, who is tasked with a class project on his family history and must speak publicly on it. The year is 1980; his family has been dry land farming for several generations and is in jeopardy of losing their farm. Spencer is left to do his report while in the care of his Grandmother for the weekend. Rifling through his Grand Dad’s old trunks, for research, he comes upon a very old pair of glasses or spectacles. The spectacles become a vehicle into his family’s actual past, while shedding light on the future.

M: Sounds like a fantastic fresh story. Best of luck! It’s interesting to me how writers come to the form of storytelling that they do. For me, I knew I wanted to write books -- in part -- because I read books. My assumption is you hope to find a film audience one day in the same way I hope to find an audience of readers. What draws you to storytelling through the medium of film? And do you think you’d ever (or have you ever) delved into writing a novel?

Kristall: Thank you! I also, love a good book, but I am a very visual person. I enjoy imagining what the characters in a book would really look like, and yes, I usually cast them from a pool of actors or actresses. Film for me is beautiful, and allows you to escape into a different world when you only have two hours to spare. Life gets busy. I have recently thought about writing a novel. My latest screenplay, ‘The Spectacular Spectacles’ is a bit on the historical fiction side and geared toward preteen boys. I have a young son and we spend time reading together every night. It has become apparent to me that there is a small supply of novels for this age group.

M: As an actor and screenwriter you’ve experienced the process of filmmaking from a couple different angles. Screenplays and how those screenplays turn into films are a bit of an enigma to me. Can you walk me through what it takes to get a screenplay made into a film?

Kristall: (laugh) I wish I knew. The technical side of it, from what I have seen, they take a screenplay and divide it up into locations. The next step is to separate it into ‘sides’ or daily shots, meaning whatever they plan to film day by day. Most importantly though is a great story, knowing the right people, being in the right place at the right time. Of the few screenwriters I have met, this is what they tell me. Film Festivals are supposed to be a great outlet; most of the judges are typically producers.

M: That’s certainly more than I know about the process. (smile) It’s fascinating. I know as an aspiring novelist there’s a certain amount of keeping-my-finger-on-the-pulse-of-the-market that I do. I can’t allow myself to get bogged down by it, but at the same time I can’t exactly ignore market labels and demands when I’m trying to find an agent and publisher to sell my book. I’m very aware of what authors and which kinds of books sell. And I’m often tasked with trying to figure out where my story fits into all those labels. When you’re writing a screenplay, how in tune are you to the film industry’s cycles and labels? And subsequently, how much of it do you try to tune out?

Kristall:  I try not to think about it too much. I just try to enjoy the work; mine and that which is released by others. I guess my thought is that from page to screen takes at least six months, if you’re lucky, and to keep it fresh, original and write what you know. The more authentic it is, the more believable it is, and therefore, the more people will relate to my story. Of course there are several industry key elements I always keep in mind. First and foremost is the tenth page or ten-minute mark. You have to have something big or exciting happen around page ten or you lose your audience. This is a fun game to play when you are watching any movie, see how you feel ten minutes in of the next film you watch. (grin)

M: I will have to try that. It’s sort of like setting up the inciting event in the first ten pages of a novel. I guess story telling at its base is similar no matter the medium. This is a great segue to talking about craft. Explain a little how the structure of a screenplay is set up. What are some of the crucial elements a of a screenplay that a screenwriter just can’t leave out?

Kristall: I agree, story telling does follow a pattern throughout the different mediums. The format of a screenplay is very rigid. The industry has very specific “rules” on how they must be laid out. The font of every screenplay is Courier New 12pt. The beginning always starts with a FADE IN: and ends with a FADE OUT:, the individual scenes open with INT. (interior) or EXT. (exterior) followed by the place, time, and then the set up. The rest comes down to dialog and tab placement….okay boring…again I am a visual person; it made more sense to me when I actually looked at and read a screenplay.

M: I haven’t read a lot of screenplays (actually, I don’t think I’ve read any.) How does reading a screenplay differ from reading anything else?

Kristall: Reading a screenplay can be confusing at first, with all the abbreviations, but the beauty of this format is that it makes them really easy to read. Everything you need to know about the story, the characters and its ‘flow’ is all laid out for you. That doesn’t mean that the story itself won’t surprise you. I think the medium is just meant to be very concise.

M: I’ve read two books that I know were written by screenwriters. (I may have read others and didn’t know it). Those two novels were, The Princess Bride by William Goldman and The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I noticed both of those books were amazingly structured and incredibly paced. How important is pacing in a screenplay versus a novel? And from a crafting standpoint, how do you make sure that pacing transfers from the page to the screen?

Kristall: Structure and pacing are very important when writing a screenplay. Unlike a novel you really only have 90-120 pages to work with. Each page constitutes to about a minute of screen time, so ninety pages is an hour and a half movie. Making sure the pacing transfers from the page to the screen falls on the director, not an easy job, but a beautiful thing to watch unfold.

M: I know dialog can be a big tool in a writer’s tool belt where pacing is concerned. How do you go about dialog as a screenwriter? Is it a different process than when you sit down to write a novel or short story? 

Kristall: I feel that the dialog as a screenwriter is a slightly different process then when you write a novel or short story. It is still dialog, yet, these words are meant to be spoken by an actor, someone who will breathe life into the character on the silver screen. The dialog itself must carry some emotion that the actor can feed off of and run with. There are no actor notes (or very few) within a screenplay. The scene setup and the dialog itself is all they have to go on. A screenplay is really just the ‘bones’ of the final intended product.

M: What’s the best advice you’ve ever received concerning your writing endeavors? How has it molded you as a writer?

Kristall: Write what you know; your feelings, your dreams, your passions, your history…all of my characters, all of them, have a little piece of me within them. It makes any story, any genre, any style…real and believable.

M: What’s on the horizon for you as a writer? What’s next for Kristall Burke?

Kristall: I am just going to continue to write. I am currently working on a piece for a screenplay contest, this is a first for me, but I like the challenge and it came at the right time. I had just recently finished the screenplay, ‘Spectacular Spectacles’ and had not started a new one, yet.

M: Thanks so much for taking the time to answer all of my rambling questions. It’s great to be back in touch. We’ve got two more posts planned with you over the next two weeks that we’re really excited about. And even after those, we hope you’ll drop by the Pod from time to time and keep us posted on your endeavors and your thoughts on the craft. Best of luck and happy writing!

Kristall: Thank you Michelle and all the Ninja Peas! This has been a lot of fun and I am going to miss the ‘excuse’ for us to email each other on a regular basis. I am truly flattered that you asked me to guest blog and interview for you, and would be happy to drop by any time! I think the Pod is a wonderful read and source of information for writers of all walks of life. Thank you for having me. (hugs and kisses)

As you should have gleaned from this imaginary readers -- Kristall is joining us for a three part series. Next week? Fifteen tips that every aspiring screenwriter should know. Until then...pay attention to minute ten of the next movie you watch!


Pea Out.

Book Review: This Glittering World

A few months back, I popped into Kmart for some random stuff, and, as always, my route detoured through the small aisle dedicated to books {because sometimes you find a gem somewhere other than the big book chains}. That particular day, planted in the young adult section, was this beautiful, peaceful, snowy cover that drew my attention for two reasons. One, I missed snow {and this was the only way I was going to get any}. Two, it had a really pretty bird on it {Yes. I'm that easy to please}. So I picked it up.

"Please let this sound half as interesting as the cover is pretty," I muttered as I flipped to the inside cover copy.

And you know what? It did. Just the first little intro, "T. Greenwood, acclaimed author of Two Rivers and The Hungry Season, crafts a moving, lyrical story of loss, atonement, and promises kept," had me hooked. {To be fair, I'm sort of a sucker for books that hold any promise of making me cry}.

I didn't get to it right away {had another couple books ahead of it in the queue} but I kept passing it on my bookshelf, fingering it's spine and promising it, "you next." Eventually, I made good on my promise. And I finished it in a total of maybe five hours.

About this book I can now say two things:
It was in the wrong section.  -and-  Covers can be deceiving.

This Glittering World, by T. Greenwood, gripped my heart in a stranglehold and left me reeling.

You know those giant, hand-inked bibles with parchment-thick pages you find in ancient monasteries? Well, that was the weight of this 10 oz. book on my chest when I closed its covers. {Yes, I actually weighed it}. It was heavy.

The story follows Ben, a part-time History professor, as he struggles through the aftermath of finding Ricky, a Navajo teen beaten to death and frozen under a blanket of freshly fallen snow in his front yard. Because of a past filled with loss, which he's buried deep in the corners of his heart, Ben can't seem to let this incident go. Then he meets Shadi, Ricky's older sister, and their shared experience of loss opens a channel to Ben's buried past and gives him a reason not to let it go. The authorities chalk up Ricky's death as alcohol-related, despite the obvious foul-play. So Ben, in hopes of filling the cracks his past has left in his heart, begins searching for the truth about Ricky's death - searching for justice. At the same time, Ben begins to look inward - to question everything about his life, including his fiancé, Sara.

Now, I have to tell you, Ben didn't get much of my sympathy. In fact, most of the time, I pretty much just wanted to smack him. Or hit him with my car...
He's so deadset on dealing justice for Ricky's death, and fulfilling his own desires, that he lets himself overlook the injustices he's inflicting upon Sara {and later, upon Shadi and himself as well}.
He's a selfish man and an unlikeable character. He does nothing to change himself or the situation {that he caused}. He admits to himself that Sara deserves better, but he won't better himself, nor will he man up and leave her so that she might find someone better. Hardly any of his other choices {or lack therof} are any better. And the ones that are come too late.  
He is, without a doubt, a tragic hero. He makes one bad decision after another, and never learns from his mistakes.

Which is part of why I very quickly found myself empathizing with Sara. At first, I felt as though it was some individual quirk of mine that I identified better with her. She is often sullen, guarded, angry, and suspicious, after all. But Ben's own explanations for her attitude and behavior, despite his best efforts to convince me otherwise, justifies her. Sure, the girl has flaws. She loves Ben {or maybe the idea of him} to a fault. And she's constantly jumping to the negative in every situation, unable to find a way to make herself happy. But I get it. Her reactions may not be the best, but they aren't invalid.

Then there's Shadi. As someone with "card-carrying" Native American relatives, and just enough Native blood to be considered one myself, I liked Shadi right away. In fact, by the end of the book, despite her role as "the other woman," I respected her the most of any of the main characters. She was wise, strong, and reacted the way I would hope any woman who caught my husband's affection would when she found out Ben was {engaged to be} married: She backed the hell off and called him out for being a "selfish asshole" {her words}. She was, at times, the only voice of reason in this book.

But even Shadi's words of wisdom weren't enough to save Ben from himself. Especially because he didn't listen to them. And so, at the end of this book, I was left uttering one {vast and heart-breaking} question: "...at what cost?"

And that is why, despite a five-day struggle to get my words in order, I chose to review this book. It was not only beautifully written, but here I am, so worked up by these characters actions that I've taken days picking through all the things I had to say about them in order to write this. Days, I might add, which I refused to pick up another book {I have a very large to-read pile screaming my name} until I could write out my feelings about this one. If you want characters who jump off the page, whether you like them or hate them, This Glittering World has them.

Am I saying this is an easy, happy read? Hell no. {Sure, it was a quick read... But only because I couldn't bare to put it down without knowing what happened to these people.}

What I'm saying is this book meets my criteria {previously mentioned in What I Read vs What I Write: Alexis's Take} for a good read. I was invested. Completely. It gripped me, it kept me thinking on it days after I'd finished, and it had at least one character I wanted to do physical harm to.

A note of caution: If you have been through any tough or life-changing situation that you're still emotionally dealing with {which may or may not appear in the pages} this story may make you spiral into a place you don't want to be - that you might have worked hard to get out of. BUT it may be extremely cathartic, pulling you out of the last of whatever it is you're going through. {Okay. Now I can at least say, "Don't say I didn't warn you."}

One Pea Short of a Pod: Part Two

A Weekend at Oak Alley with J and M… continued

Day Two:

The mansion and oaks -- stunning.

There’s a certain kind of quiet one will experience whilst sleeping in an old quarter-house situated alongside the pastoral landscape of the Mississippi River Road. And at its heart, Oak Alley A.K.A. Bon Séjour -- even in all her glorious grandeur -- is merely a not-so-small country home. I’d forgotten how eerily quiet a country home could be.

I woke with a start in the middle of the night to a mysterious creak coming from the next room. The living eyes of the child’s portrait -- dusted in the sick yellow glow of a nearby security light -- hung over my bed and glared down on me. I shivered. The fractured images of the dozens of people that must’ve died on the grounds over the estate’s long life flickered through my mind. I heard another creak. My palms sweated. My heart raced against an inexplicable mounting fear.

The child's photo over my bed.

Then, with a hiss of breath whispering from the next room, I remembered the mysterious voodoo dolls J had acquired the day before. I felt my body grow cold, rigid.

Not really.

The truth? J’s bed was incredibly squeaky and it caused me to giggle like a child at a sleepover every time she adjusted herself under the covers. And… it was crazy cold! I think our first night in Cottage 6 might’ve been the coldest January night in Valcherie, LA (sound familiar). As you may recall, we did have central heat and air, but M wasn’t getting out of bed to crank up the thermostat at 3am. Brr.

A few hours later, as daylight broke, I heard another creak, a frantic rustle of fabric, and a low groan. I peered around the door to spy J, shuffling off to the kitchen with a sheet over her head and mumbling something that sounded a bit like, “Goffeeeee...”

That was my only undead sighting of the Pea-treat.
J wakes early for a voodoo-doll-wielding-vampire.

We followed through with our plans to tour the mansion. Off to breakfast we ambled -- knowing more coffee (ie: liquid life) awaited us at the cafe. We were seated near a few tables of excited travelers, snowbirds from the north, and J and I did what we do best. We eavesdropped while noshing on our eggs and crispy bacon

Old typewriting in Cottage 6 -- fitting

After breakfast, we toured the house. With the clang of the bell, the doors opened and a period dressed lady met us. We went room by room, learning the history of the former residents since 1839 – the Romans, the Stewarts, and what little is known of those that came in between. Afterward, standing on the portico of the mansion, we sipped our icy lemonades as the winter wind whipped around us. We said to one another, “I don’t know about reclaiming our Mojo but this iced drink thing was a pretty ridiculous plan.” So we bundled our frostbite phalanges into the pockets of our coats and headed to the cottage for hot tea, lunch, and an afternoon of writing.

Having consumed a lovely broccoli cheese soup and sandwiches, which we cobbled together in our cottage kitchen, J set up her voodoo dolls and laptop at the bar. I settled onto the couch where I promptly emailed J -- formally requesting her participation in an interview for Court Street Literary Collective. (grin) “Really?” she said to me, unamused.

By late afternoon we’d consumed liters of tea and coffee, and were in need of an outing. Out the door we went -- but this time I had my fancy camera in tow. We wandering the grounds until after the tours closed for the night, snapping dozens of photos. Only the two of us and one other passive-aggressive photographer -- who we couldn’t decide whether he followed us because he wanted us to leave or he was frightened to be alone but too shy to say as much. Either way, the miraculous method in which he juggled his large camera whilst talking on his mobile will forever be remembered and may, or may not, be recorded for all time as a character trait in some future story.

Sunset reflections in a sugar kettle at Oak Alley

By dark, we were hungry and we headed back to the cottage where I offered to cook and promptly tried to burn the building to the ground. (Perhaps, a mild exaggeration?) Well, see… what had happened was… I left the Panko crusted fish under the broiler for a tad bit longer than intended. As I tried to rectify my folly, J entered the kitchen and said, “Um… Chel. It’s kinda smoky in here.” Not bothering to look at her, because I was fiercely scraping the burned bits off the top of the fish, I replied, “Yeah, I know. I know. The fish was a tad over broiled-” Silence. Then J said with a sternness that I’d not ever experienced before, “No! You don’t understand. It’s smoky in here…look!” So I did. As I looked above me, into the fifteen-foot ceilings of our quarter-house, I saw thick black smoke blotting out the ceiling light like an eclipse. Then, I watched it roil under the door casings into the adjacent dining and living areas like an evil Louisiana swamp fog. We looked at one another and promptly darted in opposite direction to open all the windows and doors before the fire alarm went off.

It was a crisis averted, until I sat down with my fish and inhaled its Panko crust into my lungs. The sting of fresh burnt Japanese breadcrumbs raked against my organ walls with each breath I took and I realized it was time to lick my wounds, curl under the covers, and call it a night. The fish was determined to get me one-way or another. I was convinced. Before the lights switched off, J said to me, “Maybe we need to go back to the gift shop and buy you one of those health warding voodoo dolls...”

One of the newer oaks by twilight.

Touché.

Tomorrow, one final installment of One Pea short of a Pod and my love affair with old trees exposed. I promise... it's almost over. I've fallen into a mire of gluttonous overwriting. It can't possibly last much longer. Better here than my manuscript. (grin)

Then, on our next featured Tuesday, Alexis will be a Pea in the Pages with some suggested reading and perhaps a review or two. She's been mad reading these days and I can't wait to see what books she's had her nose tucked into.

Valentine's Day Book Recommendations

What better way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with a good book? Okay, yes, there are actual better ways to spend it... especially if you have a certain someone to spend it with... but the topic of love is going to be floating around everywhere today, so we Peas decided to contribute by giving you recommendations for our favorite books of love! Now, love comes in many forms, so these won't be Romance novel exclusive {though I have a feeling there will be some in there}. These are simply our favorite love stories... in any genre! Enjoy!

Since I'm the Pink Pea, and the closest Pea, in personality, to a Disney Princess, it's fitting that I start this off.

My first recommendation, of course {because I own 9 copies; one in French and one in Italian, thanks to my sister} is:

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen 

A classic. I love the innocence of this romance. I also love that they spend the entire book getting in their own way. The characters are so real in their faults, and the dialogue is, believe it or not, really witty! And of course {as there must be for me to fall in love with a book} there's at least one character I want to do some kind of physical harm to.

The Symphony of Ages Series by Elizabeth Haydon

High Fantasy. Epic Romance. You know those movies where you get more info than the main characters, and so you scream at the TV in frustrated suspense as they miss clues or walk right into obvious {to you} danger? A story that crosses the planes of time, this series has that same effect in its romance. You know well before the main characters do what's going on and you can't read fast enough for them to put it together... before it's too late. It's your classic "boy goes back in time, meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, boy gets sucked back to future without girl, girl unwittingly finds her way to the future years later, but neither recognize each other" story. I have never wanted a character to figure out something so badly in my life. Except for maybe this next book...

The Way of Shadows {Trilogy} by Brent Weeks

This is decidedly not a love story... on the outset. It's more like... ninja assassins with magic powers. But the love story that blooms inside these three books was, to use the word again, Epic. I nearly cried when I finished the last book because I didn't want the story to end. {Though it ended fantastically}. I am ever grateful to Michelle for suggesting these.

Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen

One of the few true romances I own, this story was beautifully told. And the plot was cleverly set up. Though I cringe at stories of love blooming from adulterous situations, factor in the time period and setting, add a scarily abusive husband/antagonist, and I can let it slide. Definitely one worth turning into a movie.

J's Black-Hearted Almost Love Stories

A thinks her list is the shortest. Nope! That would be mine. Unlike the Pink Princess and Dr. Buttons over there with her "touchy-feely" addiction, I don't read a lot of romance. If a love story pops up as the natural progression of a death and despair story, I'll read it and often enjoy it...as long as it's believable. So here are a few of my favorite "almost" love stories.

The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

I love the natural progression of the "romance" between Katniss and Peeta. It fits the story, the time, the place, and the characters...and it's not over-the-top-sappy.

Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion

R is Dead. Julie is Living. Their world is changing. This is not your typical boy-meets-girl story and it has a great twist on the zombie myth. Plus, it's the first novel for the author.

The Rachel Morgan series by Kim Harrison

I love this series. Love the characters and the various love stories are real, affectionate, heart-breaking, and seamlessly blend with the action.

 My list might be the most expected (and unexpected -- in some ways). My romance reading chops started young with a very large box of some fifty Harlequin romances handed over to me by a family friend at age thirteen. Though I believe every story has a romance at it heart -- these are a few "hardcore" romances that still hold special places on my bookshelves and in my heart.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte
It's no secret that Jane Eyre is my favorite romance and book, ever. I own twenty-one copies and my collection grows each year. Classic, Gothic, full of tension and missteps -- Rochester is the ultimate almost bad boy and Jane is the heroine that you want to see overcome it all in the name of love.

Jane by April Linder
A great companion read to the classic is the retelling by April Linder, Jane. I love this book as much as the original. It's a fresh up-to-date retelling of a romantic tale that shows how this story stands the test of time. I might even love Nico Rathburn a little more than Rochester -- because who doesn't love the idea of falling for a musician.

If you like a nice light romantic read I have two favorites that I dust off and reread once in a while.

Jemima J  by Jane Green
This is a fantastically fun Chic-Lit novel about an ugly duckling journalist that learns love isn't always about looking like a swan. It's a fun, fast, and light read with a lot of heart and humor.

Megan Meade's Guide to the McGowan Boys by Kate Brian 
This is a YA favorite of mine. Thrust into a household with seven boys, what's a single and only child like Megan to do? If you want to reclaim that boy crazy and young love feeling you remember at thirteen -- this is the book for you.

Both Megan and Jemima are heroines you can champion because they learn that love isn't always what you expect and sometimes we find love (and love finds us) in unexpected ways.

Lastly, Fire and Ice by Catherine Hart
If you want something a little (a lot) steamier and enjoy a fun Historical Romance, this is a classic of the genre. Pirates, a feisty Irish heroine with a couple tricks up her sleeve for rogue Captain Reed Taylor, and a lush old southern Savannah landscape -- couldn't ask for more.

Have a {sweet/romantic/sexy/steamy/fun/chocolatey/delightful/wonderful} (circle one... or more) Valentine's Day!! See you next week for part two of all the fun I missed! -A

One Pea Short of a Pod: Part One

A Weekend at Oak Alley Plantation with J & M

Jan. 29th, 2012 -- 9pm

The trees did not disappoint.

This isn’t the first pseudo writing and inspirational retreat the Ninja Peas have undertaken. It is, however, the first one with central heating and wifi. Last year, I had the hair-brained idea to gather the Peas for a night in an Escatawpa River fishing cabin on what might’ve been the coldest February night in South Mississippi. We managed to keep warm by the fire, played word games, plotted, schemed, and laughed until we cried. But the best bit? We truly reinforced our friendship through a shared passion of writing (and a heartfelt desire to survive the night as armies of woodland mice took up arms against us). It was an unforgettable thirty-six hours and we vowed to do it again.

A bug's eye view of the mansion.

Sadly, this particular weekend at Oak Alley, we are one pea short of a pod. This Pea-treat was truly meant as a retreat. Both J and I were desperate to reclaim our mojo after a hectic holiday season and some productivity stumbling blocks. Plus, with one husband home sick and another just home all the time, it was time to remember why we’d taken our marriage vows many years ago. Absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder -- and a Pea-treat is the first defense against too much “quality time” with one’s significant other. So, J and I planned a spontaneous (in the span of four text messages) trip to reclaim our sanity. We were booked and ready to go to the haunted plantation of our dreams before either of us thought twice about whether it was actually a good idea (or really cleared it with our husbands…oops). Thus was the origination of a Pea-treat at Oak Alley.

Since our third pea is not so flexible with impulse trips, she will be missed and will be here with us in spirit. But worry not! We have a three-pea adventure brewing for the spring (and we promise to share the madness with you).


Day One:

We left Saturday morning with excitement roiling through our veins. Nothing could stop us! J and I had always dreamed of visiting Oak Alley (rumored to be haunted and film home of Louis from Interview with a Vampire). J was thrilled by the promise of a plantation estate filled with southern gothic flare and dark storytelling inspiration. Me? It was big, big trees and a chance to walk on the same ground as Brad Pitt’s stunt horse. Of course I was excited! Alas, this feverish anticipation was quickly subdued when we’d driven all of four minutes and I said, “Sh*t! I forgot my camera.”

Around we turned then tried again.

I'm so glad we didn't leave my camera behind.

Finally on our way, we rolled west on Interstate 10 toward the Mississippi River. It quickly became clear that the GPS my husband insisted we take (note: I just wanted to bring a map) was confused and bewildered by our decision to retrieve the camera. As I drove eighty miles an hour down the interstate, screaming at the tiny box suction-cupped to my windshield, I tried to reprogram the (cocky) taunting box. Meanwhile, J sat in the passenger seat, giggling, because my interaction with the box went a little something like this: “Yes! That destination. No, wait, that’s wrong. Yes! No. Yes? No! Wait... Yes! No. Yes!” and so on. What I learned from this experience? GPS… no. Map… yes.

After the argument with the tiny (cocky) box was settled, we had a relatively uneventful two and a half hour morning drive with great weather and light traffic. We had plenty of time to chat about what we both needed to accomplish on our pending projects, our hopes for new projects, and how we intended to divvy our time between work and play until our Tuesday morning departure. Ten miles from our exit traffic came to a standstill (as is typical of any drive on a several-mile long bridge over Louisiana swampland). After imagining and talking through several really, really horrible scenarios, we determined vampire alligators would be too sleepy this time of year to scale the bridge. So we were safe… for now. We did learn (if you can call wild speculation “learning”) our near one-hour delay was merely a little old lady and her purse puppy peeing on the side of the road (we can’t be sure who was doing the peeing).

Bridge over the mighty Mississippi.

Finally, we exited and headed toward our destination. We squeed with more excitement than any mere mortal should experience. So much so, I maniacally squeed and snapped photos whilst driving over the Mississippi River Bridge. J took a moment to cover her eyes and pray -- the river’s awesomeness just too much to bear. In retrospect, J’s reaction probably had more to do with my hands not being on the steering wheel and her water phobia than the greatness of the Mighty Mississippi. But, either way, it was pretty awesome.

We drove for the longest seven miles EVER… then we squeed! Again.

Our first impression of the plantation was one of elation (and copious amounts of squeeing). We jumped out of the car at the bottom of the levee and stood, gazing down the alley of oaks from the roadside. Mouths gaping, we stood in the middle of the road, tour buses driving around us, and J said to me, “Oh, yeah. We are so coming back here with Alexis next year.”

I agreed, diving out of the way of a fast-moving vehicle and into the gravel.

Cottage 6 was perfect.

We had lunch at the plantation’s restaurant then moved into our cottage -- but not before J did what she touted was the first and most important thing of the trip. She bought a small collection of voodoo dolls from the gift shop. (Should I be frightened?) After entering the cottage with the B&B attendant (as a murder of crows crept up from the sugar cane fields and flanked the cottage… seriously…) we were each handed a flashlight and told, quite seriously, “You must have these with you if you walk the grounds after dark.”

J’s response: (maniacal laugh) “S-weet!”

M’s response: (eyes J suspiciously, eyes voodoo dolls, eyes flashlight helplessly, and scans room for anything that could be used as a wooden stake)

Perusing the cottage, we found creepy dolls and an even creepier old portrait. But, all in all, the space was wonderful and had plenty of outlets. As J said to me after dinner (stroking the heads of her voodoo dolls and shuffling to her bedroom), “This is gonna be perfect!”

Sunset over the road our first night.

Our first night at Oak Alley ended with a sunset walk around the grounds, a quiet dinner in our lovely cottage, and inspiration teeming all around us. Mojo? I think we’ve stirred it with a single mouse dropping found in the back of the cabinet by the saucepan. It wouldn’t be a Pea-treat without at least one. After all, we’re staying in an old quarter house in the middle of a sugar cane field.

Next time? The conclusion to One Pea Short of A Pod: Weekend in Oak Alley with J and M. I know, I know. The anticipation might just be too much.

Game Pod: Creation -- Six Word Inspired Flash Fiction

This week's Game Pod is taken from a little game Alexis and her mom used to play on long road trips. Each Pea was tasked with contributing two words. The Peas then created a story using all six of the words at least once (in three-hundred words or less). And this is what happened:

Princess  Iguana  Cartography  Sanguine  Horizon  Hoarding 

Island Vacation

Lacy stared at the iguana sitting on her hotel bed.

Her mother expressed her fears about her vacationing alone in St. Thomas. She doubted this was the worst of them.

Flicking her keycard at it, the iguana blinked, taunting her with its sanguine expression. It was as if the reptilian beast enjoyed the attention.

“Shoo!” She waved her fingers at it. “This is the fourth night in a row!”

She gazed toward the burnt orange and pink horizon. It was paradise. Just what she’d imagined, sans wildlife. She had to admit, the view was stunning.

She hated feeling like a helpless princess and prided herself on self-sufficiency. When she’d called the concierge last night he’d treated it like business as usual. “Yes, miss. Of course, miss. I’ll send someone over.”

The maintenance man, Jacamo, had suppressed his laughter the first night when he found her in the hallway with her pepper-spray at the ready.

“You have to be assertive,” he’d said last night, rustling the lizard out with a broom. “They’re like dogs. You have to show him who is the boss.”

“I didn’t come here to tame the local wildlife,” she’d told him. “I just wanted come to an island, have a nice guy buy me a drink, and enjoy the beach. This…” she jabbed her thumb at the intruder “…is not part of my resort package.”

She sighed and eyed the iguana. Be brave.

She imagined herself hoarding bravery like coins against her chest. She tried to think of someone who was adventurous. Lewis and Clark were the first to pop into her head. This wasn’t exactly continental cartography she was facing, but certainly they’d overcome wildlife on their adventures.

“Get out, Mr. Iguana.” She glared at it and pointed at the doorway. “I mean it.”

The lizard cocked its head then blinked each eye. It opened its mouth, exposing its fleshy tongue. She shuddered. It took one step and she ran out into the hallway and let the door slam behind her.

Jacamo was there with two unopened beers. He smiled, offering her a bottle. “Tonight’s my night off. Forget him. Let’s take a walk.”

Lacy took the beer and smiled.

(word count 364) by Michelle

The Care and Feeding of Dave

Princess Sidhemana hated cartography. Studying musty old charts and maps made little sense when newer versions were available on microreaders. Yet her father insisted she know how to read the stellar graphs their ancestors had used when they settled on Delta Plantation 9, a planet five star systems removed from their home world of Earth.

Sighing, she gazed out the window at the northern horizon. Epsom and Colga, DP9’s smallest and largest moons respectively, shimmered along the spiny back of distant mountains. Their combined light cast a sanguine glow on the vast altine fields.

Sidhemana longed to lose herself among their indigo stalks and tubular white blossoms. She closed her eyes and imagined the thick sweetness of their fragrance. A rich earthiness undercut with a slight sulfuric bitterness would coat her tongue if she tasted the nectar dripping from the flowers.

Angry voices outside the literacy chamber shattered her daydream. Mother was yelling at Tarken again. Sidhemana rolled her eyes and focused on the tattered map spread on a wide slate table.

“But, Mother,” Tarken’s whine pierced the outer doors. “Dave needs the beetles! He’s a growing iguana and--”

“I understand, but why do you insist on hoarding gosha beetles?”

“They’re Dave’s favorite.”

“Tarken, gosha beetles are disgusting, not to mention dangerous,” Mother lectured. “If they escape, they’ll eat this entire home in less than a week.”

“If they get out, I’ll unleash Dave. He’ll track them.”

“Tarken...”

“Truly, Mother, you shouldn’t worry.” His voice faded as though he were slowly retreating. “You’re starting to get a crease between your eyes.”

“Tarken!”

Quick footsteps reverberated through the literacy chamber as Tarken fled their Mother’s disapproval, pulling peals of laughter from Sidhemana.

(word count 288) by Jeannie

*under word count award

Princess and the Pea

Princess took a sure-footed leap across the gap between dilapidated rooftops and settled himself in a sit, his back against a crumbling chimney. He gazed at the vast glittering castle and its verdant grounds. The sun, slipping below the horizon, cast everything in a cherry-gold glow that reflected his unusually sanguine mood. For once, his life was perfect.

He made a clicking noise with his tongue, coaxing a pea-green iguana from the depths of his oversized jacket. The lizard sauntered to his shoulder and shot him a proud, ill-humored glare.

"Our work has paid off, Pea," Princess said, beaming. "The shit ends for us today."

Pea blinked.

"Aren't you excited?" Princess inquired. "No longer will we be treated like vermin on the street! No longer will we have to beg for the food we missed out on because of the other orphans and their greedy hands!" No longer would they taunt him, either, for the clerical mishap that was his name.

Pea stared. Then burped.

"Pea! We want to remember this moment forever. Don't ruin it."

Pea curled his tail into a question mark as if to say, "So?"

Princess shook his head. "Soon, you will have your own room. And you can stop hoarding shiny objects in the pocket of my jacket. Doesn't that make you happy?"

Pea cocked his head.

"And I'll no longer answer to Princess Boy Noname, Pea," he declared. "I will be: PB Nomer, Master of Cartography for the Royal Family." This he said with a grand flourish of his arms.

Then he grinned and snatched the iguana from his shoulders, holding him close to his face. "At least until I get into the map room and use the key you stole to get that treasure."

Pea scrunched his face.

"You do have the key, don't you, Pea?"

The iguana gave him a tiny nod. Then shook his head.

The grin slipped off Princess's face. "Well where is it, then? You had it when we stole dinner."

Pea's stomach grumbled. His face turned uncomfortably.

Princess narrowed his eyes. "Peeeeea?"

The lizard's stomach rumbled again.

"Pea! You ate it?!"

The iguana burped, his breath carrying a distinctly metallic scent.

Princess rolled his eyes and glared at the castle. "Great." He sighed heavily and set the iguana down. "Well, the shit ends for us tomorrow, then."

(word count 409 {yeah, yeah I went over -- but it's my birthday so I can! Ha!}) by Alexis


*funniest/most clever award

Next week...well...we're not quite sure. It'll be a surprise. *grin*

Judging a Book by its Cover: Michelle's Take

After rereading Jeannie and Alexis’s posts on this book cover business, one thing became clear to me…

Book covers (like books) function and satisfy in a multitude of ways.

Books! Books! So Many Books!

Perhaps that sounds a little like a copped-out response. But, what more could I possibly say on the subject? The passion and the reason have both been addressed by each of my pod partners. Let’s see if I can peel away at the subject from another angle. Romance.

Personally, as book buyers go, I’m beginning to believe I’m a specimen of a dying breed. With sales of e-readers and tablets rising and the doom and gloom of the future of publishing looming overhead (all of this partnered with the supposed empire-altering-power of e-publishing), I’m not sure what to think of the way I buy books -- especially in our current publishing market. Every one I know owns and raves about their Kindle or Nook. I’ve had mine for three years and have (maybe) fifteen books downloaded onto it. (My husband can attest that I have bought near ten times that, annually, in actual books). In my mid-30’s, I’m already one of those people saying stuff like, “Back in my day if I wanted to read a book, I had to flip pages. Actually FLIP pages.” There’s no romance, no nostalgia, in digital files.

I’m nostalgic about books. I like the feel of a book; the look of it in my hand. And even though I know I shouldn’t (in our world of renew, reuse, and recycle)… gods do I love the smell of paper! Both the gluey, inky scent of newly printed as well as the slightly mildewy, dusty odor of pre-owned. (The latter isn’t probably healthy for me, but man, it’s so delicious!) Bottom line, I’m the kind of book buyer who frequents the two big box bookstores in my region (because all the independent stores have since closed). And I visit my local library’s swap bin every three weeks, looking for that gem in the sand. In both cases, I peruse the bindings, cover by cover, and fill my arms until I’ve found the tomes that make the cut.

How do they make the cut?

A lot of it has to do with book covers.

"Which one will give me that come hither look?"

First, I pick up the books that attract me. Books covers are a first impression, after all. You should know that I prefer hardbacks because they look substantial. They make me feel they are dependable. But book covers are ultimately a tall, dark drink of water that one desires to get to know a little better. Often the attractive ones showcase the promise of a twist of darkness, mystery, and high stakes. How do I know? Symbolism, color choices, and enough vagueness to make me feel like there’s a little risk involved. But mostly… I read the back of the book. Then I read the inside jacket-flaps. And finally, I read the first three to five pages. On a rare occasion I’ll consider super-famous-author-X’s one-liner in my decision-making process (if that one-liner is flirty enough, yet transparent enough, to put me at ease). And on an even rarer occasion I’ve been known to “date” a book, see it more than once, or maybe buy it a cup of coffee and fondle it a little before taking it home. But, I digress.

My point? With so many books to read, if I’m not at least mildly intrigued by the premise and the writing before I buy it, I don’t have the time to make a ten to fifteen hour commitment. And my time is precious to me.

But, let’s back up for a second. What is the initial factor that makes me reach for a book?

I had to think hard about this – really hard. As a writer and reader I’d thought this would be a no-brainer. But I found myself stumped. I even talked to my thirteen-year-old niece, a formidable book consumer, because I realized I hadn’t ever thought really hard about why a book cover entices me.

She said to me, “I hate it when books put people’s faces on the front cover.  I don’t want to know how they see the characters. I want to imagine them the way I want to.”

Sound familiar? (see Alexis’s post on Jan 10)

Some of My Favorite YA Covers

So, I went to my YA bookcases (because those are at hand in my dining room) and I quickly hand-selected books that I remembered that I loved the covers of and...something interesting appeared before me.

No faces.

It seems that I, too, don’t like to be told how to imagine a character. I’m an adult after all, and I can decide with whom I want to spend my time. Without you spelling it out to me.

It’s like the whole Harry Potter/Daniel Radcliffe conundrum. After being inundated with the visual bombardment of the movies and media frenzy I can’t -- even in my mind’s eye  -- recall the Harry I imagined and fell in love with when I first read the books. And I felt the same heart-stricken woe Alexis did when Behemoth was released. I totally get it!

A Selection of Other Favorite Covers

So I looked a little harder. I went into my office. I found this goes for my “adult” bookshelves, too. I pulled out some of those. My findings? I lean toward simplicity, suggestion, mood, what feels like originality to me, and above all, promise.

But, wait. Let’s talk Cheetos for a moment. (see Jeannie’s blog on Jan 17)

Yes, those scarily orange crunchy salty empty carbohydrates we pretend not to love but secretly stuff in our underwear drawer and eat in the middle of the night when no one is watching. I’m referring to whatever you find pleasure reading, escapist fiction, genre fiction, A.K.A., pretty much anything that has a clear label on a bookstore shelf and you buy because you expect it to make you think and feel a certain way.) Some of us hide these treats. But, some of us know that the tried and true bag of snack food is meant to be passed along to our friends like a bad case of mono, because we know there’s something so sinful, possibly shameful, and utterly delicious in them. We don’t want to be alone with our guilty pleasures. And because on some deep-seeded level we know eating Cheetos, in the dark, is a one-way path to a lonely addiction. No one wants to be a lonely addict -- we want friends to validate and enable us! After all, only those who drink alone are alcoholics, right? Again, I digress.

What I’m saying is… book covers are at their core, labels. And (as Jeannie said) these are the kinds of labels we as consumers don’t like to be surprised by.

Switch gears. Let’s think about blockbuster films. A vast majority of us would have a bit of a problem if the trailer or poster for the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie promised another swash-buckling pirate adventure but we find these promises are images pulled from flashbacks of previous films. Really the movie is about how Jack Sparrow falls into a time machine that lands him in the year 3027 and he must peril, hopelessly, through a scorched post-apocalyptic earth. In the end, the film is nothing more than Jack walking, endlessly, as he feeds the only stray dog on the planet portions of his own flesh to psychotically hold on to his own humanity. Then, he dies. Most of us would be a little put out. (Though, I admit, if any actor were capable of pulling off that twist, my money's on Johnny).

So what I’m trying to say is… I get it!

Readers like Cheetos. Publishers like Cheetos. Marketing departments like Cheetos. Booksellers love Cheetos! And most importantly… I love Cheetos! Processed, branded book covers are as sure a thing as a nice big bag of Cheetos. Admittedly, I do like a certain amount of risk. But I also relish in the security of knowing I don’t have to take a risk. I can take the safe bet.

So where does that leave me? (With a really long rambling blog entry that basically says what both Jeannie and Alexis already did. So “good on you!” those who have stuck it out this far.) Let me see if I can wrangle this monster of a topic the ground… and put it out of your misery (and mine).

 In the immortal words of Inigo Montoya, "No. There is too much. Let me sum up..."

So PRETTY!

I collect certain kinds of books for certain reasons. And it’s largely due to the cover. So, in a sense, I collect book covers. I have a growing collection of fine bound books. Collectible books. Many are timeless classic titles in leather, cloth, or are limited release and art cover editions. These books are only about the cover. Personally, I think Folio Society does a great job with moderately affordable fine editions and I love those editions solely for how they look and feel (and smell). They are simple, elegant, and hold the promise of something wonderful between their covers. Then, a couple of years ago, I passed through an airport and spied my first Corelie Bickford-Smith Penguin Edition. It’s the kind of book cover I covet, pet adoringly, and snuggle with at night because it’s an aesthetically pleasing specimen for my book collection whilst being truly affordable. The titles are classics so they're somewhat vetted. But let’s be honest -- owning them is all about the pretty cloth cover.

Then there's the old books. Sometimes they come from used bookshops, thrift stores, libraries, and antique shops. I like those to look like old books should look. Old. Crafted. Lasting. They should look like art pieces that have stood the test of time. And if there's a mysterious inscription on the inside of the cover from someone in the 1880's... awesome!

Timeless, Don't You Think?

In our digital age, buying actual physical books is romantic. It evokes a sort of nostalgia. Book covers are potential lovers and friends. When I buy a book and read it, it then becomes something entirely different. It becomes an artifact from a past relationship. It becomes an experience I’ve had, a memory I’ve collected, a story that evolved me emotionally and/or intellectually in some significant way. It’s not all about a rapid download of information before I move onto the next file. And at the end of my life, I like to imagine I will take comfort knowing when I lose my sight I can put my hands on that artifact, smell it, feel it, and still flip through all those pages.

Book covers evoke a sense of romance. And like any romance, when you take the time to examine it, it can quickly become complicated, layered, and even controversial. Some of us go on blind dates because our friends set us up. Or we have a measure of faith that internet-dating sites do actually weed out some of the undesirables. Not everyone is looking for the same thing. But in the end, I know I will always be a book shopper because I love to scrutinize their covers.

So basically... yeah... what Alexis and Jeannie said.  *grin*

Next week? Something far more interesting and entertaining than this. And shorter. Promise.

Peas Out.