Know-vember: Byron Ballard

Yes, it's your Village Witch, the Appalachian wise woman, Ms Ballard. We first met at the witchcraft conference at Harvard and managed to keep up with one another ever since. I'm hoping Byron will be able to manage a trip over here while I'm in Ireland. Should be wonderful to have her in the land of the ancient Celts -- many megaliths and pubs to visit. Of course she would be welcome company any time, any where.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

I lie still for a few minutes and imagine the day ahead. Then I get up, put away the futon that is my bed, open the shades at the window. And go pee.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

I will waggle my ample backside to almost any kind of music--yes, I have danced to Mozart's Requiem--but I love classic metal, trad Brit, bluegrass. They require different dances...or do they?

3. Where in the world do you live?

I live in the oldest mountains in the world in the southern highlands of Appalachia. From my window, I can see the third oldest river in the world. So here in NC, I feel pretty young.

4. What's a great night out for you?

A great night out would be seeing a play done well (a rarity), a bottle of excellent French wine, and something delicious to eat--all with friends.

5. What's a great night in?

A few friends in for high tea that morphs into us making dinner, listening to or playing music, telling stories and jokes. Perhaps a fire outside in the fire pit.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?


My first thought is always either Meath or London but since someone else is picking up the tab, I'll go a bit further afield. Crete or Greece, I think.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?


Whichever book I'm reading at the time. Schiff's Cleopatra bio is my current one.

8. What movie makes you cry?

Gad, I cry at all of them. I'm a big sap. So, Love Actually, Calendar Girls all that sentimental rubbish. I love it.

9. What makes you laugh?

I never tire of Hot Fuzz. I've seen it a zillion times and I still fall out at "NWA" on the door of the Neighborhood Watch group.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?


Um, yes. I call them the Cousins and we have a fair working relationship in the growing of veg, as long as I remember my place. There is also a disgruntled djinn who can't figure out how to get home and has taken up residence in the shed. Long story, I'll show you the scar sometime.

Thank you!

Ghoulway

 There was a persistent magpie knocking at my balcony window and then at the kitchen window yesterday morning. Usually there's a pair. Maybe she was asking if I'd seen her mate. He was probably down the pub.

 Lame, but this was the full extent of my costuming! I didn't have any parties to go to, so I didn't feel obliged to come up with something fantastic. Yes, I am hanging my head in shame.

But I did go out to dinner with Michael and Leslie at the Kings Head; while ambling down Quay Street afterward we saw this sign and it made us chuckle. There were lots of folks in costumes and a few kids out guising, but no one came to my door so I have oodles of chocolate left. Fortunately, I only bought candy I like...

We stopped by the Salt Hill Pub down on the Claddagh side of the Corrib. As I'm off to Scotland on Thursday, I had a Brew Dog which was quite good.

Happy Halloween!

A gloriously spooky day to you all! I know I have been remiss in my Halloween cards for the last couple years; I have as an excuse the general madness of my life lately -- this year in particular. I suspect next year will either be incredibly dull and boring, or else more mad than ever.

I will not be taking bets on that. Let's not tempt fate, eh?

My sympathies for all my east coast friends who got a lot of snow dumped on them this weekend. I won't regale you with what a surprisingly warm day it was in Galway, how I walked out along the Claddagh and out the causeway to Mutton Island... oh, wait. I am doing that. Sorry! A freak October snowstorm. I'm sure it will be smooth sailing for the rest of the season...

All right, no more teasing. I remember well the painful jaws of the Great Grey Beast of February. Let this be the most snow you see until the thaws begin!


In lieu of an actual card, here's an old chestnut that I hope you're not tired of yet:

Devil's Night

It was called Devil's Night in the town where I lived
That veiled night before Halloween,
When goblins came out and devils ran wild
And some said that witches were seen.
We kids stayed inside, safe in our beds
And whispered of what there might be—
But one year we intended to see for ourselves,
My sister, my black cat and me.

The sun had long set and the darkness had come
To wrap all the houses in black,
When we crawled out the window and crept ‘cross the lawn
And none of us even looked back.
Though the wind tapped our shoulders and played with our hair
And ran through the leaves with mad glee,
We were stalwart and true like the heroes we knew,
My sister, my black cat and me.

We had never quite said, but each knew in our heads
The goal of our late night foray;
There was only one house whose black shutters and spires
Cast long inky shadows by day.
The house of nightmares was the subject of dares
For children much older than we,
But we knew we must try to sneak in and spy,
My sister, my black cat and me.

As we walked on our own down the mist-shrouded lane
The goblin cries rang through the night.
My sister told me, with an air of disdain,
That I should not take any fright.
'It's only some kids wrapped in sheets that they hid,
That they took from their mothers laundry.'
And we continued along with much knocking of knees
By my sister, my black cat and me.

The house loomed ahead with its turrets like spikes
Aimed at a portentous sky
The old shutters rattled and the chimney howled doom
But the wind smelled like pumpkin pie.
'An old witch lives here and she eats little kids,'
My sister heard from Katie Lee
And we were likely to die if we drew too near by
My sister, my black cat and me.

'I'll go up on the porch and ring her doorbell
then run—like the wind—quick away.
You go ‘round the back and give a sharp rat-a-tat,
Before she can come out this way.'
Her plans carefully laid, my sister then stayed
As I walked toward the back door slowly,
I'll admit I was scared and I felt ill- prepared,
No sister, just black cat and me.

As I prowled through the gloom I saw a bright room
And an old woman dressed all in black.
'It must be the witch,' I said to my cat
And shivered and shook in my tracks.
I wanted to run but I heard the doorbell
And I knew that my sister's safety
Was all in my hands, so we gathered our breaths,
Poor little black cat and me.

I made a small fist and raised up my arm
To deliver the thunderous tap
But I froze to the spot when I saw a dark shape
That opened the door with a snap.
'I know what you want!' I heard the witch say
But my feet would not move to flee
And she swept us inside the warm kitchen's light,
Poor little black cat and me.

My tears trickled down and I begged for my life
And the life of my little kitty.
The old witch just smiled and patted my head
And said to me, 'Don't be silly.
I've got oodles of pie and candy and fudge
And a gingerbread house so pretty,
And I wish you would share all the food I've prepared—
It's too much for my big cat and me!'

I looked all around and my fear dissipated
The kitchen was cheerful and clean
And the huge oaken table was filled ‘til it groaned
With more treats than I'd ever seen—
Pies of all kinds and cookies with chips
And a big steaming pot of green tea,
And in front of the fire a great big cat yawned
At my ravenous black cat and me.

I said, 'Thank you ma'am!' and plopped down in a chair
And she set a blue plate before me
And I piled it up high with some warm pumpkin pie
And a big taste of each sweet dainty.
I was feeding my face and telling the witch of our chase
When my sister's gaze fell upon me.
But it took little time before we brought her inside
To eat with my black cat and me.

So when you see a witch and your knees start to shake
And you're tempted to run to the hills,
Just remember the night that we wandered quite late
Seeking out Devil's Night thrills.
Some witches are good, and some witches are bad
But they all make amazing candy!
If you're sweet and not rude, they might share their food
With your sister, your black cat and thee.

Happy Halloween! Samhain maith! Wear iron and don't talk to pookahs. Let us remember those who have gone and whom we miss and share the bright memories with those near us now. Be well.

I Have the Most Amazing Friends

Well, you knew that, right? But they continually amaze me anew; I was flabbergasted today with this incredible treat. Thank you, Niamh! I am still speechless. Can you believe it? This cake shows the fae folk of Ireland welcoming me to a little cottage in Galway by the bay. And the pièce de résistance? Chocolate stout cake.

The pictures don't do it justice. The incredible artistry of the waves of the sea, the trees, and the little chocolate woodpile! All the little fairy folk and the roaring fire: absolutely gorgeous. Everyone said it was almost too beautiful to eat -- but we managed to find a way to do it. As Maryann said (or was it Allan?) it's kind of like a Buddhist sand mandala -- painstakingly created but not meant to last. Except chocolate, mmmm.

The perfect capper to a wonderful day; Mary's home is such a sanctuary, although even out in the hills it was in the 90s. I headed out to the cave as usual and there was a good blast of cold air coming out from its depths. It was a relaxing day with people drifting in and out, conversations and quiet. Wonderful to spend a glorious day with some of my favourite people :-) I felt much better than yesterday, when watching the horror unfold in Norway made me want to runaway with Yeats' Stolen Child.

Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

It's Official

My department has approved my release for Galway: college approval on its way. A million and one things to do (like grading, revising, planning, teaching next week, and more) but a moment to celebrate properly with a little Vic.

BitchBuzz: Why Elizabeth Taylor Mattered

My column pays tribute to the luminous Ms. Taylor; I want to sit down and enjoy Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? with some friends. Such a good and harrowing film! I altered the last line of my bio as a nod to the movie :-)

Why Elizabeth Taylor Mattered

By K.A. Laity

I don't think President Bush is doing anything at all about AIDS. In fact, I'm not sure he even knows how to spell AIDS. - Elizabeth Taylor

Accolades abound upon hearing the news that Dame Elizabeth Taylor has died at the age of 79. The most common theme seems to be that she was the last of Hollywood's glittering stars, rocking the old school glamour. From her dewy-eyed youth as the doomed Helen Burns in Jane Eyre and of course the allegedly-boyish National Velvet to her seven tempestuous marriages and her rock star lifestyle, the camera loved her luminous face.

But there was much more to the star as she ably demonstrated in her finest film role: Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Viriginia Woolf? where Taylor transformed into the foul-mouthed Martha to duke it out verbally with the love of her life, Richard Burton, as the hapless yet vicious George. Under all the glamour, she was one tough broad who didn't get enough credit for her accomplishments and her loyalty.

Read the rest: http://culture.bitchbuzz.com/why-elizabeth-taylor-mattered.html#ixzz1HWRijjbK

Still working at getting the photos up: bit by bit they're getting there. I'm adding captions as I go along so you can know where things are. Oodles of things to do in the meantime. It never ends!

Happy Halloween!

Busy weekend, busy autumn: I never got around to my traditional Halloween card, so here's a blast from the past which has come to mind several times this week, so clearly she wants to make an appearance:

Devil’s Night

It was called Devil’s Night in the town where I lived

That veiled night before Halloween,

When goblins came out and devils ran wild

And some said that witches were seen.

We kids stayed inside, safe in our beds

And whispered of what there might be—

But one year we intended to see for ourselves,

My sister, my black cat and me.

The sun had long set and the darkness had come

To wrap all the houses in black,

When we crawled out the window and crept ‘cross the lawn

And none of us even looked back.

Though the wind tapped our shoulders and played with our hair

And ran through the leaves with mad glee,

We were stalwart and true like the heroes we knew,

My sister, my black cat and me.

We had never quite said, but each knew in our heads

The goal of our late night foray;

There was only one house whose black shutters and spires

Cast long inky shadows by day.

The house of nightmares was the subject of dares

For children much older than we,

But we knew we must try to sneak in and spy,

My sister, my black cat and me.

As we walked on our own down the mist-shrouded lane

The goblin cries rang through the night.

My sister told me, with an air of disdain,

That I should not take any fright.

“It’s only some kids wrapped in sheets that they hid,

That they took from their mother’s laundry.”

And we continued along with much knocking of knees

By my sister, my black cat and me.

The house loomed ahead with its turrets like spikes

Aimed at a portentous sky

The old shutters rattled and the chimney howled doom

But the wind smelled like pumpkin pie.

“An old witch lives here and she eats little kids,”

My sister heard from Katie Lee

And we were likely to die if we drew too near by

My sister, my black cat and me.

“I’ll go up on the porch and ring her doorbell

then run—like the wind—quick away.

You go ‘round the back and give a sharp ratatat,

Before she can come out this way.”

Her plans carefully laid, my sister then stayed

As I walked toward the back door slowly,

I’ll admit I was scared and I felt ill- prepared,

No sister, just black cat and me.

As I prowled through the gloom I saw a bright room

And an old woman dressed all in black.

“It must be the witch,” I said to my cat

And shivered and shook in my tracks.

I wanted to run but I heard the doorbell

And I knew that my sister’s safety

Was all in my hands, so we gathered our breaths,

Poor little black cat and me.

I made a small fist and raised up my arm

To deliver the thunderous tap

But I froze to the spot when I saw a dark shape

That opened the door with a snap.

“I know what you want!” I hear the witch say

But my feet would not move to flee

And she swept us inside the warm kitchen’s light,

Poor little black cat and me.

My tears trickled down and I begged for my life

And the life of my little kitty.

The old witch just smiled and patted my head

And said to me, “Don’t be silly.

I’ve got oodles of pie and candy and fudge

And a gingerbread house so pretty,

And I wish you would share all the food I’ve prepared—

It’s too much for my big cat and me!”

I looked all around and my fear dissipated

The kitchen was cheerful and clean

And the huge oaken table was filled ‘til it groaned

With more treats than I’d ever seen—

Pies of all kinds and cookies with chips

And a big steaming pot of green tea,

And in front of the fire a great big cat yawned

At my ravenous black cat and me.

I said “Thank you ma’am!” and plopped down in a chair

And she set a blue plate before me

And I piled it up high with some warm pumpkin pie

And a big taste of each sweet dainty.

I was feeding my face and telling the witch of our chase

When my sister’s gaze fell upon me.

But it took little time before we brought her inside

To eat with my black cat and me.

So when you see a witch and your knees start to shake

And you’re tempted to run to the hills,

Just remember the night that we wandered quite late

Seeking out Devil’s Night thrills.

Some witches are good, and some witches are bad

But they all make amazing candy!

If you’re sweet and not rude, they might share their food

With your sister, your black cat and thee.

Wombat Day

I did not start this particular celebration, but you know I'm willing to lend a hand for a good cause. So join the dance for Wombat Day. Wombat cake below made by the Wombies. How to celebrate: Eat chocolate, think marsupial thoughts, put something in a pouch. Smile. Hug a wombat.

Thank You, Boojums!

It doesn't take much to make me smile. Just a thoughtful little thing like this:

Yep, it's a lovely congratulatory post card of a Polly Thayer painting from my pals and affixed to the back? A ticket stub from a performance of Good Evening with my idol, Peter Cook and (my almost idol) Dudley Moore. As you can see from the note, it was found in a library book (I love how so many of my friends work in libraries) about Russian icons (?!).

Little stub, big smile. Thank you, Boojums.

ADDENDUM per T'joey Zone:

Do mention Loree B found it...Cheryl said to post it...

i stuck it

New Journal!

I'm really pleased to announce that the Women's League of Ale Drinkers has decided to start a journal to share with the world the fabulous women who support the League.  You can see the details over at the League's site, but here's a precis:

And that is the mandate of the new journal for the Women's League of Ale Drinkers, for which Vicky will serve as editor. We seek only work that meets these criteria, the output of creative women who may feel that their vision and passion has been overlooked elsewhere, that their daring has brought only disapproving stares, that their humour has met with stony silence. We delight in work that crosses traditional genres.

We do not ask for your credentials, awards or publications. We ask for your heartfelt work -- writing in RTF files, art in JPGs, music and video via links. We ask that you tell us why the piece embodies your reason to live, to breathe -- what the work means to you, even why you think it may not have received an audience before...


 Read the rest over at the League, where you can also enjoy a celebration of the fabulous Stephanie Johnson, featuring her fabulous designs for Smoking Ants Records.

I have some good news to pass along but I will wait until I have signed the contract. Of course, I was already celebrating because I got the Fulbright application done (whew!). Of course it will be months before I know anything, but it's in and I gave it my best shot. That's all you can do, eh?

Todd Mason: Bandits

My buddy Todd has this fabulous write up on the girl rock band movie Bandits which made me order it from a certain river-named on-line vendor immediately (you can, too!).




If the Go-Go's were the Beach Boys of post/punk all-women rock bands of the early '80s, and the Bangs/Bangles were the Byrds, it took a while for the Monkees correspondent to come along...but they did, with Katja von Garnier's 1997 film Bandits (not to be confused with the later, somewhat less good Bruce Willis vehicle). A German film, ineptly promoted upon its 1999 US release despite a glowing New York Times review by Lawrence Van Gelder and apparently grossing something like $25,000 nationally here, it was a smash in Europe, where the soundtrack album reportedly became the bestselling in European history, ahead of the Beatles' albums, or anyone else's, in that market (the first-year figure is usually given as 750,000 copies).

The film involves a prison band, in a women's facility rife with casual brutality from some of the staff, while some (with some overlap) pride themselves on their progressive attitudes toward reform. The quartet, with a new drummer whose first days at the prison we follow, are trotted out to a Policeman's Ball as show ponies, but they are harassed beyond tolerance by the guards on the way over, and they manage to steal the police van before they are delivered to the ball. Meanwhile, Luna, the somewhat bullying primary songwriter and guitarist of the band (played by Jasmin Tabatabai, who here is almost a dead ringer for Selma Blair, perhaps a bit more muscular), has submitted demos of their songs to various record companies, and while they are on the lam, one of the companies releases their demo recordings as an album, which does very well with the attendant publicity. Von Garnier and Uwe Wilhelm's script resembles both Thelma and Louise and The Monkees' various productions (and, of course, the Beatles' before them) in being comic with both surreal and somewhat seriously desperate edges, and the songs the band performs, or can be heard having performed at various points in the film, reflect this admirably.

Tabatabai, who would go on to collaborate musically with von Garnier on her next project, HBO's English-language feminist historical drama Iron Jawed Angels, and star in such notable productions as Unveiled, was well established as both musician and actor before coming to Bandits, as were two of the other principals, Katja Riemann (who plays the taciturn, sharp-witted Emma) and Nicolette Krebitz (who plays the essentially sweet-natured, rather insecure Angel). All three women sing on the recordings of songs they in various combinations wrote (along with a number of cover versions), but only Tabatabai plays her instrument (rather as with guitarist Roger McGuinn on the earliest Byrds' releases, or the early Monkees releases) for the soundtrack recording. However, Riemann and Krebitz were competent enough on drums and bass respectively to tour in support of the soundtrack album as Bandits.

Read the rest at his fabulously detailed book/film/music review blog, Sweet Freedom.

Whew!

Lovely Ganesh, remover of obstacles (and wearer of leis and Mardi Gras beads).

Sorry! Busy busy busy -- last night was the Women's History Month concert put together by my fabulous colleague Yvonne Hansbrough and featuring colleagues Young Kim and David Bebe as well as Jamecyn Morey, who all played music by women composers, including Éizabeth Claude-Jacquet de la Guerre, Hilary Tann, Clara Schumann, Rebecca Clarke and Cécile Chaminade. It was magical! Thanks to everyone who turned out, especially Jenise and Cate and my students.

It's hectic this month (when is it not, I know I know) and I have a conference at the end of it. Somehow it will all come together, right?

Adele AKA Hagelrat: Why People Don't Read

Adele is the fabulous hostess of Unbound, a lively book blog that covers a broad swath of authors (yes, I was recently a guest there myself!). She's also pretty darn funny and an astute reviewer. As her post shows, she's passionate about sharing the flame of reading.

Our awesome hostess has invited me to come and talk about something that matters to me about books. So that was easy really, it matters to me that people read. So I thought I'd take a quick look at some of the barriers to reading generally.

First and foremost the simple ability to read. I worked in young offender institutes briefly when I first left uni and the psychologist in one of those YOI's told me that in that particular one only 19% of the kids were educated to primary level or above. These are 16 - 18 year olds who cannot read or write to the same level as six year old. Add to that that in the UK when I was small dyslexia was a middle class excuse for stupid and few people could afford to get their dyslexic kids an appropriate education. The attitude to learning difficulties has improved massively over the last 30 years but there are plenty of people in the UK right now of every age who simply cannot read. They therefore do not have access to the quiet pleasure of written stories. Many of them have never had the joy of being read to either so the whole world of non visual story telling is lost to them. When you think of how fundamental story telling is to us as a species, part of our identity, our moral code, the offer of adventure and experience beyond what we can hope to actually have for ourselves and illiteracy is a huge tragedy and the loss of part of our social identity.

Perhaps the power of social media should be harnessed for the forces of good, to raise awareness and push this massive problem into the public consciousness so that in another 30 years time we won't be having this conversation again?

Another thing that is becoming a cause for concern is access to books. For those of us who already have a passion for reading it sounds silly, there are libraries and bookstores and the internet and frankly the hundreds of books in our homes already. There are friends to borrow from and paperback exchanges and the charity shops. But many of these things are disappearing.

Waterstones is the last big bookstore throughout the UK, there are a few smaller specialist chains like Forbidden Planet, but the high street bookstores are gradually disapearing. What happened to Dillons, Ottakers, Blackwells? Are they still around at all? Borders UK has gone, Blackwells I think is just a campus store now. WHSmith spreads itself too thin and is hardly a soothing browsing experience now, especially in Leicester where book browsers are bumped aside by the billions of visitors to the post office that is now situated there.

Libraries in schools are already becoming digital centres and city libraries are being chipped away at bit by bit serving community functions in priority to actually providing books and knowledge. I think there is room for libraries to do both, but to do both well requires money and commitment.

Gradually the processes by which we push the first paperbacks into people's hands and let them discover the worlds within, get Kidnapped or seach for Treasure Island are being eroded. We have initiatives to fight back, World Book Day for one, BookDoctors (and ours here is both lovely and wonderful) but it's not enough.

I am not considering ebooks here for a simple reason, browsing. In order to seek out, purchase and read and ebook you have to know you want to read, the discovery of reading comes from other sources than the computer. That of course segue's me nicely into where the love of reading comes from. Grasping for the Wind recently did an around the blogosphere on this and I didn't get my answer in on time, so you get my personal answer and my views generally now.

Love of reading for many of us comes from people who love to read. It's simple but it's true. My mother loved to read and won prizes for her poetry readings as a child so watching her stalk around the room reading Tennyson was enchanting. In the great tradition of our species my mother passed on her passion to me through oral storytelling, like a greek bard bringing stories to life in my mind while I listened. In order to get more stories than she had time for reading became my priority for myself.

At the points in my life where my reading habit has waned it has been friends lending me something that really captured my imagination that drew me back in: Tigs lending me a Clive Barker book when we were fourteen, Mandy lending me a selection of horror a couple of years ago when I was stuck for something new. Just being around other people who read has made a huge difference all through my life. One friend and I used to sneak out of school at lunch time to go to the local library because we'd exhausted the school one and when I left the area I gave her my library card because the six book limit was causing her problems. Now I am a book blogger and amateur reviewer, surrounded by people from all over the world that share this all consuming passion and I have realised two things: How many other people there are for me to share this with and how small the literary world really is.

One of the top sites for book reviews in the Booksmugglers blog, I believe they get about 26,000 visitors a month. In book blogging terms that's huge, the publishers who specify usually state between 1,000 - 3,000 before they will put you on their lists.

Compare it to You Tube, one of the leading video sites available a quick search produced this from yahoo answers "In January 2008 alone, nearly 79 million users had made over 3 billion video views". So in one month 26,000 want to look at one of the most popular book review sites as opposed to 70 million wanting to look at short videos of cats falling off stuff and clips from old tv shows.

It seems sometimes that everyone reads, because we surround ourselves with people like us, but in the grand scheme of things regular readers are a minority group. Perhaps we should register ourselves as a charity and start a programme of aid work, doing live readings in school playgrounds at breaktime.

If people who love reading are the way in for new readers, then perhaps we have a civic duty to tout that love everywhere we go and at least try and provoke the question why.

Susan Hanniford Crowley: Great Heroines

I met Susan at Albacon last year, where we had a lot of laughs. She has a wide variety of skills and an enviable head of hair, too!

Why I Must Have Great Heroines in My Romances!
Susan Hanniford Crowley



I remember when I was a child, my teacher asking the class to write about a hero. In participating in the class discussion, everyone talked about great men -- past presidents, athletes, and soldiers. Something was missing for me. Where were the great women? When I brought this up, my teacher challenged me to find them.

It was difficult, as my resources at the time were limited, but I managed. I found Clara Barton, who founded the American Red Cross. I found Amelia Earhart, the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic. 

It would be years before I added to my list Lucretia Mott, Mary Ann M'Clintock and Elizabeth Cady Stanton who hosted the women's rights convention in Seneca Falls, NY in 1848. I also added Mae West because I liked a woman who was in charge of her career, her life, and her sexuality.



All of them influence me every day as a writer when I dream up characters. Laura Cordelais, my heroine from The Stormy Love Life of Laura Cordelais, starts out with her life in shambles. She takes drastic action, not necessarily a good action. When she meets vampire David Hilliard, everything changes. Love changes all of us. 

Let me give you a taste of that first meeting:



[Excerpt from The Stormy Love Life of Laura Cordelais]



Laura struggled through the dark and burst through a great light. She gasped for breath and it filled her. Warmth spread through her every part, then a surge of energy she didn’t understand. Her heart beat. Differently. Odd. Different from any feeling she’d ever had. Her eyelashes fluttered and then in the dim light of a strange windowless room, she saw a man’s face.

His dark, curly hair framed his chiseled features. What struck her most were his dark, fathomless eyes. I can get lost in those eyes and never want to leave.

He smiled.

She flushed. I hope he can’t hear what I’m thinking.

I can.

She sat up, smiling with embarrassment. “You pulled me out of the river?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Laura trembled. “I don’t understand. I was dying.”

“You were very badly injured in the fall. I was going to take you to the hospital, but you said, ‘No hospital.’ That you’d keep trying to kill yourself.” His jaw tightened. “I couldn’t bear the idea of your death. Please, forgive me, but I couldn’t let you die.” He gazed deeply into her eyes.

Laura moved her tongue inside her mouth and came across the fangs.

“Oh, my God!” She tried to sit up, but he pushed her gently down.

“Don’t get up just yet. You’re still healing.”

“You made me a vampire?” Every tale she’d heard as a child in New Orleans rushed back to her. Vampires were monsters. “Now I’m a monster!” Anger flushed through her. How dare he make her this! He had no right. She seethed.

“No. You are not a monster. Neither am I. I gave you a life. It’s your choice how you live it.”

Then another emotion unexpectedly filled her, when she gazed up into his eyes. I couldn’t bear the idea of your death. His tender words echoed in her entire being and soothed her broken heart, as if he’d kissed her lips without touching her. She looked at him with wonder, reached up and caressed the young beard on his chin. He smiled and she could see his fangs now. Strangely, she wasn’t frightened.

“We must do the last part.” He bit into his arm just inside the elbow and put it against her mouth.

“No.” She pushed his arm away.

“You need it to stop the hunger from possessing you. Just close your eyes and drink.”

The blood oozed into her mouth, as he pressed his arm against her lips. At first, she choked and sputtered but then finally accepted it. Laura tried not to think about what it really was. The warmth reminded her of ginger tea with a citrus tang.

“Since I am your sire, my blood will give you a balanced mind. You will not need to feed again until tonight.”

After a few more minutes, she pushed him away. The wound on his arm healed before her eyes. Wide-eyed, she smiled. “I feel so strong and well. I don’t ache or hurt anywhere.” Then his reference to being her sire struck her. “So you own me now!”

Her anger flared again along with her strength. She slapped him.

“What was that for?” He held his hand to his cheek.

“Oh, I don’t know. You made me a vampire and now you own me. Take your pick.”

David gazed upward. “This isn’t going well.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“God.”

Laura scoffed. “A vampire talks to God? Does God answer you?”

David frowned at her and sighed. ”God apparently has one hell of a sense of humor.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never mind. Let’s get back to the subject at hand. No, I do not own you. I have no claim on you whatsoever. You are free to decide where you want to be and with whom. I’ll help you get started, that’s all.” With every word, he seemed more uncomfortable. “We do have a blood tie though, so if you ever need my help, just think of me and I’ll come. I’ll find you.”

Her anger dissipated. Laura enjoyed seeing him vulnerable. And he didn’t hit her back. She smiled. “I don’t know your name.”

“I’m David Hilliard.”

This time she gently touched his face. “I’m Laura Cordelais.”

He held her hand to his cheek and closed his eyes.

Laura gasped as she realized her surroundings. “Do you live here?”

“No.” He chuckled. “I just needed to get you out of the sun. I have an apartment.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I thought I’d have to live in a cemetery.”

They both laughed.

Laura looked around at the grim tomb. A spider crawled up the stone wall nearest her, and she trembled. “I’m afraid of small, closed spaces. And bugs.”

He enclosed her in his arms. “Don’t be afraid. As soon as it’s dark, we’ll leave.”

Her mouth was so close to his, she could almost taste him. Then he pressed his firm lips against hers.

Hmm. He tastes of honey. I love honey.

Their fangs knocked together. Laura giggled nervously.

“Shall we try that again?” he suggested.

She nodded.

David gently took her chin and tilted her head slightly. Then his lips possessed hers again. Laura tingled from head to toe and wondered if a vampire was capable of love. She hoped David was.

When their lips parted, Laura frowned.

“I’m still angry with you.”

“Really? You don’t sound that angry.”

“I’m furious with you. I mean you made me a vampire.”

“Are you furious?” He carefully pushed a hair off her face and kissed her forehead.

“Now that’s not fair. Are you using your hypnotic powers on me?”

“No. I want everything between us to be real.” He kissed her left temple and moved down her jaw line. His mouth caressed her lips. His tongue rubbed her fangs...

The Stormy Love Life of Laura Cordelais is available as an ebook and will be coming out in print in next month from Tease Publishing LLC. 


I love the unexpected, and enjoy giving those challenges to my heroines. In When Love Survives, Regina O'Malley discovers she's half leprechaun and half elf on the darkest day in New York City. Learning you're magic while helping others and finding love staring you in the face is more than a full plate.

In A Vampire for Christmas, Georgia Blake has a rare gift. When the same man is staring at her in the storefront window day after day, she thinks he's a stalker and if that isn't enough to deal with, she's unemployed and soon-to-be homeless. But hardship doesn't slow our heroine down, and love finds her in a very surprising way. 

Both When Love Survives and A Vampire for Christmas are published by Tease Publishing LLC and are available at All Romance E-Books.

As we celebrate Women's History Month, I will continue to write and to research. One can never have too many heroines.


For more information about Susan, you can visit:
Website: http://www.susanhannifordcrowley.com
Romance Blog: http://nightsofpassion.wordpress.com
And she is onlyladyknight on Twitter.

Stephanie Johnson: The Creative Process

Kicking off our Women's History Month celebration with a bang! Yes, folks -- it's the fabulous Queen of Everything, the corvid monarch herself today. She's a fantastic artist, creator of the wonderful Raven & Wombat Tea Party merch (see our St Urho design!), co-conspirator of the Women's League of Ale Drinkers, a printmaker, logo artiste, designer and of course, proprietor of the Aloha Alcohula [best damn tiki bar in Connecticut!].

The lovely, talented and prolific Kate asked me to blog about the creative process -- specifically, my creative process. I don't believe I consciously have one.

The process has to start with inspiration: I am fortunate and blessed to know so many writers, musicians and artists, all of whom inspire me constantly. I also have a mental repository of visuals ranging from Looney Tunes to Art Chantry, Art Nouveau posters to Inuit prints, prehistoric art to Hatch Show prints; movies, photography, music, books - there is so much out there to inspire everyone. I just acquired a  coffee-table book on Circuses - and I don't doubt the awesome visual impact of the pages will figure in somewhere, sometime into a new project.  A mere Facebook conversation has produced some wonderful images in my mind. 

The creative process, as it works in me: an image pops in my head, it's usually a challenge, and I think it's cool. If it has humor, even better. If it's inspired by a friend, total bliss. 

International Women's Day

Celebrate any way you think best: but honor the women of the world! In recognition of Women's History Month, I'll be featuring guest bloggers throughout March, fantastic women I think you should get to know as well as posts about women's history, art and more. Be sure to drop by for the special Ada Lovelace Day post on March 24th honoring women in technology.

It's not too late to schedule a guest post: if you've been meaning to get blogging, here's your chance!

Yes, it's true

I am an Associate Professor of English with tenure.

:-D

Women's Month Interview: Tables Turned

How do we know each other?
I am she as you are she as you are me and we are all together.

How would you describe yourself?
A writer. Loopy. Amused. Obsessed. A teacher. A dreamer.

In what part of the world are you located?
Lebowski Land AKA Albany. I am pleased to be here, but we all know I should be in London and I will be.

Where can we find you on the web?
Here (and my other blogs -- links to the right)! Facebook, Twitter, my website, BitchBuzz and about a million other places.

What don't people know about you that they ought to know?
That I became a confident, assertive woman mostly by pretending to be a confident assertive woman. Vonnegut's words echo in my brain always: "We are what we pretend to be, so we must be very careful about what we pretend to be."

What are you most proud of having accomplished so far?
I gots a PhD. I have a long list of publications most of which make me proud. I have become confident and assertive. I have a good job. I'm getting better at living happily now.

What ambitions do you have ahead of you?
To have a play on in the West End and a BBC radio show -- which I will enjoy from my flat in London -- and about a million other things. I am chock full of ambitions for my writing.

What's the best compliment you've ever received?
The lovely one given by Danny Fingeroth when we were together on a panel at PCA in San Diego (he was a special guest). I gave a paper on Alan Moore that was really more of a performance piece. Danny went after me and started by saying something along the lines of, "This is like trying to follow Frank Sinatra with 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'" -- it remains Best. Compliment. Ever. Though I really love seeing students leave comments on evaluations like "Beowulf ROCKS!"

If something great happens to you, how do you celebrate?
Champers, friends and good food.

What's your best method for coping with stress?
Meditation and writing, although venting to friends is very important, too.

What makes you laugh?
Peter Cook. Oh sure, I love the Pythons, AbFab, Eddie Izzard, Morecombe & Wise, Dylan Moran, Arrested Development and the Simpsons, but nothing beats Peter Cook.

What makes you cry?
Anger and frustration; classic weepies like Now, Voyager.

What do you love?
In addition to the obvious people (who know who they are and know how grateful I am to have them in my life) and my Kipper, I love writing, music, theatre, art, laughing out loud, stretching my brain, Belgian beer, cold vodka, Indian food, and words words words.

What do you loathe?
Abuse of power. Lack of imagination or generosity or curiosity. Blind obedience. Obstinacy. Small spirits.

What's sexy?
Intelligence and a sense of humour - either without the other is useless; people who burn with the fire to create.

What's the best advice you were ever given?
Samuel Beckett: "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better." For many years I was terrified of failing. It's still hard for me, but I have finally begun to realise that without throwing yourself into the possibility you will never really accomplish anything worthwhile. Feel the fear and do it anyway.

How should people be spending their money?
Of course they ought to be buying my books! I should have the proof of Unikirja this week, hurrah. I also think it's great to support groups like Kiva and Water Partners because they go to the root of the problems of poverty unlike many paternalistic organizations, helping women and children who make up most of the poor worldwide.

Which woman/women have inspired you?
My wonderful wonderful friends, many of whom have been featured here this month. The handful of very good teachers I had growing up (off the top of my head, Mrs Vance, Ms Seltzer, Ms Shapiro...more! but I'm having a hard time dredging up the names although I can see the faces). Medieval women like Hrotsvit, Marie de France, Margery Kempe, Anna Bijns, Eleanor of Aquitaine, as well as later writers like Aphra Behn, Jane Austen, Lady Montagu, Elizabeth Gaskell, the Brontës, Virginia Woolf, Anne Sexton, Shirley Jackson, Angela Carter, Lynda Barry, Liz Hand, Storm Constantine, Octavia Butler and a thousand more. All funny women! My mom who instilled me with a belief that I could do more. My Aunt Fanny who was a woman ahead of her time. Many of my students (especially at UHD), many of my colleagues, and all of my friends. So many!

If I gave you a million dollars, what would you do?
Buy a flat in London and pay off my debts.

A giant-sized "Thank you!" to everyone who participated in this month-long celebration. I am stunned by the amazing qualities of the women I know, their fearlessness and their good humour in the midst of many struggles. So many of you were so self-effacing ("oh, I'm so boring" or "my answers won't be interesting"), but you all helped demonstrate the incredible web of women that are linked solely by knowing one person. And with luck, more of you know each other now!

We all have a web like that. You only need look around to see it. We are all fortunate to share such networks, although they're easy to take for granted. In the last couple years I have learned just how important that web can be as a safety net. I am grateful to you all, more than I can say. I love you. Thank you so much!

Women's Month Interviews: F

How would you describe yourself?
Conscious and calling it "success."

In what part of the world are you located (and are you happy to be there)?
Georgia. . .not entirely

Where can we find you on the web?
Facebook

What don't people know about you that they ought to know?
I draw and paint.

What are you most proud of having accomplished so far?
Raising my kid, Ph.D., retaining my imagination.

What ambitions do you have ahead of you?
Travel, publish, love. . .repeat!

What's the best compliment you've ever received?
"You helped/inspired me"

If something great happens to you, how do you celebrate?
Tell my friends, dance.

What's your best method for coping with stress?
Yoga, red wine.

What makes you laugh?
The absurd joy of being.

What makes you cry?
The absurd joy of being.

What do you love?
My family, vegetable korma, the smell of puppy paws, the color of the sky at twilight.

What do you loathe?
Meat, stuck up people, cruelty for its own sake.

What's sexy?
Laughter, honesty.

What's the best advice you were ever given?
Breathe.

How should people be spending their money?
Support independent artists, spay and neuter stray pets.

Which woman/women have inspired you?
Marie de France, Debra Harry, my daughter, the WWI Nurse I met in CA.

If I gave you a million dollars, what would you do?
Buy land, buy stocks, buy chocolate. . .

Thanks so much for being part of this month-long project -- you are fabulous!

Women's Month Interviews: Constance Wagner

How do we know each other?
Through the Medieval Group of PCA and possibly another life.

How would you describe yourself?
Quirky and creative; intelligent and affable; stable and sane. No, really.

In what part of the world are you located?
Physically, I am in the New York/ New Jersey metro area. Mentally these days, I am mostly in Middle-earth. Ecstatic to be in both locations simultaneously.

Where can we find you on the web?
No real web presence as of yet. Am working on it but you can find blackmail-worthy pictures of me on Photobucket. There are also a few of me in an Elven cloak and boy’s garb from a day at a Renfaire when my gown was not “wear worthy”.

What don't people know about you that they ought to know?
That I truly believe that Art (all forms, visual, written, perfomance) is the Song of the Soul.

What are you most proud of having accomplished so far?
My work with Lord of the Rings in general and my interview and article arising from it with the principal actors of the London production of The Lord of the Rings. My article Arresting Strangeness is the best thing I’ve written so far in that I think I have devleoped a new form of litcrit as performance. Or so I say with my mouth ….

What ambitions do you have ahead of you?
Finishing my first book. Working on my poetry collection. Maybe some self-publishing. Hope for commercial success with various books published by commercial house.

What's the best compliment you've ever received?
Again not sure but they generally have to do with my writing. The actors mentioned above were very complimentary about my interviewing skills and the playwright called my piece “vivid and evocative”. Also, Isaac Asimov once groped my mini-skirted thigh at a science fiction convention. [Ewww!] Does that count?

If something great happens to you, how do you celebrate?
Call people. Go out and have dinner. After I do the private Happy Dance.

What's your best method for coping with stress?
TM

What makes you laugh?
Word play. Layered references to high and pop culture stuff.

What makes you cry?
Last several minutes of Return of the King when Frodo boards the Elven ship and is basically resurrected.

What do you love?
Are you paying attention? Epic literature – particularly LOTR. But also beauty and stillness in moments. Starshine. Moonrise. Gorgeous choral music. Shakespeare. Madrigals. Learning stuff. My friends and family. (This is no particular order of importance. All seem equal.)

What do you loathe?
Dishonesty. Manipulative people. People who don’t respect intellectual and artistic pursuits.

What's sexy?
Humor and intelligence and Tom Selleck in his hey day. Go, Magnum!

What's the best advice you were ever given?
Hhmm, the temptation is to stay on theme and quote Gandalf in LOTR about deciding how to use the time given us, but since he wasn’t really talking to me (He wasn’t, was he?), I’ll have to say it was advice about not remaining in a dead-end relationship out of a sense of obligation to a really nice guy who just wasn’t right for me.

How should people be spending their money?
I think people need to donate to the arts and education. Their choice as to how. Oh, and public TV is a good choice, too.

Which woman/women have inspired you?
My mother who was a factory worker during WWII; my Mom is 91 and still her feisty self. Joan of Arc, my favorite saint as she was a visionary (literally) and a warrior. And Charlotte Bronte. Probably others. I also thought Emma Peel was a great fictional depiction of a liberated woman and said “I wanna be like her when I grow up!” when I saw my first episode of The Avengers when I was in 7th grade. No one else seemed to get it in my class.

If I gave you a million dollars, what would you do?
Immediately indulge in an orgy of bill paying; full-time care for my invalid Mom; home renovation; travel; find sound investments; donate to arts and ed charities; breathe more easily.

Thank you so much for being part of this celebration: you are medievally fabulous!