Blogging lessons learned

With no lunch plans today, I decided I’d do a little housekeeping. Rayne’s World needs to be kept tidy,  you know. With a website, a couple of blogs, a mailing list, a MySpace page - well, the list does go on but I’ll stop there. I see you yawning. Anyway, I ended up at this blog.

In my early blogging days I gave little thought to the power of the search engine. Okay, you got me. I gave NO thought to the power of the search engine. I wrote my posts, said whatever I wanted to say, dropped a few links in for promotional purposes, and mosied on.

Bad blogger. Those old links became so far out of date that had anyone clicked them, they’d be on someone else’s books. Not at all what was intended. Good for the other person, though.

So here’s my tip of the day for author/blogger types. Don’t drop links to your publisher in your blog, no matter how much you like them. Books go out of print, publishers go out of business, and content just grows too old to be pertinent.

Sort of like blogging itself. Some days.

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

Surviving the family gathering

Six weeks ago my beloved’s sister called me and said she’d like to have a surprise birthday party for him at my house on June 28^th. I didn’t have to worry. She’d take care of everything. She didn’t want me to have to do a thing. She’d take care of everything. The sound of the alarm bells going off in my head deafened me.

 

First off – June 28^th in NOT my beloved’s birthday. His birthday is in the middle of July, three weeks away. No, no, no, June 28^th is her, the sister’s, birthday. 

 

With no way out and nowhere to run, I agreed. The morning of the 28^th, I rose early and cleaned my house instead writing even though early Saturday morning is my favorite time to write.

 

But isn’t your hubby’s birthday worth it, you ask.  Remember – it’s not his birthday.

 

Yes, it’s true. I’m not at all happy over losing several hours of prime computer time that included cleaning my bathroom so a pack of teenage girls could hide out in it and send text messages. Who were those kids and who thought it was okay to invite them to MY house? Oh, yeah. I remember. Anyway, I endeared myself to all by ordering them out of the house while explaining the proper use of the bathroom facilities to them. Bad me, but I really had to go in there!

 

Why would three teenage girls need to hide in a bathroom to send text messages?

 

And speaking of kids, those girls were not the only unknown offspring that were here. Every kid in the family seemed to bring a friend, which was really okay. The boys weren’t any trouble to anyone. My concern is that I’m going to get hate calls now. The responsible adults that brought them turned them loose and these city kids ran all through the “wilderness” area of my woods. We don’t maintain this area so as to encourage the birds to nest in the thickets, and there is a magnificent crop of poison ivy in the woods this year. Don’t forget to wash the sheets those boys slept on last night …

 

As my honey’s sister’s guests arrived, the first problem became very obvious. The guests had not been instructed to bring their own lawn chairs.  I own only six and I had to chase my beloved’s sister’s boyfriend out of one of them so my seventy-one year old mother could sit down. I really believe no one should have to point out to a man at least my age he should vacate his chair for an older lady, especially if he knows her on a first name basis.

 

Our hostess and her boyfriend left to make the twenty-mile round trip to the nearest grocery for something forgotten. This left people asking me questions and me searching inside and out for our hostess because she didn’t tell me she was leaving the premises.

 

There were a few more things that gave me pause throughout the evening, but the real capper came near the end. The person who decided to throw a party at my house left without thanking me for the use of my property, my electric, my water, my gas grill, and most importantly on a summer evening in Maryland, my Deep Woods Off.

 

Nobody does it to you better than family.

 

The evening wasn’t a total loss, however. My “adopted” nieces and nephew were here, and I’m always delighted to see them. One of the girls has a two-year-old son that keeps her busy. We managed to keep him out of the woods. Well, at least until our hostess decided to take him for a walk. At least his mother believed me about the poison and washed off his little legs.

 

The young man is currently courting a young lady and left early. My beloved and I are quite fond of him and wish him much success in life. I didn’t get to talk with him and that’s okay. He’s happy and healthy and that’s all that matters.

 

The oldest of the three is a remarkable woman who has a sense of self and purpose that leaves me in awe. It took me a lot longer to reach that point in my life. She stayed a while and I enjoyed a computer slideshow of a recent vacation she and her partner took. We chatted about her job – she’s an archivist – and I am fascinated by her most recent assignment.

 

All of this has left me questioning my role in the bigger picture of family. It’s a struggle we all deal with on some level. Loving family doesn’t preclude being hurt by them, whether deliberately, unconsciously, or unintentionally. My beloved is well aware he was used, as was I. The emotional fallout from my being ostracized in my own home is something he now must live with, while his sister gets away unscathed. I will say he handled the evening much better than I.

 

The part of me that is storyteller is able to sit back and observe the behavior of family. Recognizing and cataloguing emotional toll is invaluable to my craft. Being able to take emotions and translate then into something identifiable to all is the basis of romance fiction. Yes, I may blog about my evening with an equal amount of seriousness and tongue-in-cheek, but within the context of a story I must always be concise.

 

In a story, we writers are able to manage all our characters to achieve what we cannot in our own lives.  In real life there are few happy endings for a toxic relationship without the intervention of grace, and not all parties involved may want to receive such grace. We are left in a state of limbo, of unrest, our thoughts swirling around the person who caused us pain. Which may be, of course, the goal of such people.

 

Today is a new day, and instead of dwelling on what should be a wonderful relationship with my beloved’s sister, and is not, I’m left with other options. I choose to get back to business. I have the normal chores to attend to, plus I’d like to get my shelves painted while the sun shines. There are opportunities for happiness in all directions save one, and I will not walk that path today and let thoughts of toxic family ruin my day.

 

Today is for sunshine, my beloved, and me.

Cavities, airplane houses, license plates.. oh my!

So how’d Google do with the odd headline for this blog? I can only hope it made it’s way to you and you get a few laughs, or snickers, from it.

 

Have you gotten your copy of Loving Luke yet? Yes, I had to get that little plug for my newest book in there before we covered some of today’s odd news.

 

So many questions… like… if your dentist rode his horse to work, would you wonder where his hands had been before they were in your mouth? Oh, heck. You know they wear those nasty-tasting gloves when they work. A dentist in Washington state is riding his horse to work to protest high gasoline prices. Believe me, if I had a horse, I’d do the same. 

 

Only in Malibu, California… A woman is building her dream home from recycled parts of a Boeing 747 Airliner. This only sounds crazy. The completed structure will be about 4,000 square feet, and at a mere $40,000 base cost, that’s pretty cheap. With an art studio, an observation deck, and a meditation lounge in the nose cone, it will have all those homey touches. I only hope that sometime down the road pictures of the finished home emerge, Heck, maybe HGTV will do a segment. I would love to see this place.

 

Now this wouldn’t bother me at all. I’d get a good laugh over it. It seems that some license plates in North Carolina begin with WTF. Yeah, yeah, we all know what that stands for these days. Some 9,999 drivers got the plates which are being replaced at no charge. Here’s my tip - keep your tag! Have a laugh. And if your silver hybrid is parked in a long row of look-alike silver hybrid clone cars, you’ll be able to spot it. Do you know what a help it would be if my mother could remember her tag number?

 

So it’s the weekend again, and while my current work-in-progress languishes, a little paranormal piece that threatens an identity crisis, I’m going to toss my beloved in the truck and go see Wall-e. Every once in a while a person needs to see a cute movie with a lot of laughs. I hope it lives up to the previews and so far Pixar has delivered good clean fun.

 

That’s my slice of life on Friday, June 27, 2008. Live long and prosper.  Now go buy Loving Luke so I can afford the movie. Please. J

 

Rayne Forrest

Live and let blog?

Blogs are strange beasts. As individual as, well, the individual blogger, you can’t run a Google search with finding a blog on your chosen subject. They are freedom of speech at its best – and sometimes, worst.

 

With Google alerts set on a variety of subjects, I’m treated to a handful of new blogs every day. Some days I simply can’t take the time to read any of them, but I generally look at one or two while waiting for my next appointment to arrive. Or to take a step back from my day and collect myself after dealing with a difficult person. Lately I’ve noticed an uncomfortable trend in blogs – bashing.

 

The Internet is populated by only twelve people and eleven of them have a gzillion screen names each. I’m the only one with just two. Really! I wouldn’t kid you about that. It has to be. I’m just the writer and the “real me.” That’s all the multiple personality disorder I can do. The other eleven are taking over the bandwidths.

 

Okay. I’m being silly. It happens after a long day at work. My point is that the Internet provides a never before enjoyed anonymity to everyone. So…does our anonymity give us permission to post truly hurtful things about another person? I think not.

 

One of my alerts for an actor I like (yes it’s Gerry Butler - jeesh) led me to a pop culture blog that did a fairly good job of peeing on someone else’s parade (not Gerry’s). And while I defend the writer’s right to post their opinion, I’m saddened that such a personal attack will be read by so many.

 

It could all be true. It could be just the blogger’s take on things. It could be simple D-cup envy, but one thing is for sure. It will live on in perpetuity on the Internet. Five years from now, long after the blogger has grown bored, or grown up, and moved on, those words will still be sitting there on some server for some curious Googler to inadvertently find.

 

I didn’t bookmark that particular blog. My eight-to-four day is depressing enough.

 

Rayne Forrest

The Daily Horoscope, day MDIL, Flag Day

Roman numerals are such fun, aren’t they?  That’s just a guess at how many days I’ve been reading my daily horoscope like some addict. (1549)

The pearl of wisdom for Gemini’s this morning: The less you know about something the more you will learn.

Sounds like an ancient proverb to me. I’m sooo glad I don’t pay for my horoscope.

Now, I’m not bashing horoscopes. I’m fascinated when they seem to *fit* my day or something currently going on in my life. I’ll take this morning’s gem as a good sign that the day could prove to be uneventful and I’ll be able to putz around the house AND get some writing done.

I know I won’t be gardening. The air conditioning is already running and it’s not even seven o’clock in the morning yet.

But I will make my way to my shed and put out my flag for Flag Day. If we decide we need a trip to the local home improvement center, my honey and I will both don red, white and blue. I guess we’re old-fashioned in thinking Congress did something right when they created Flag Day - even though it took them thirty-two years to decide Woodrow Wilson was correct. We need to remember the day our flag was adopted by the Second Continental Congress in 1777.

Oh my. I never knew that  in 1916, Woodrow Wilson made the first presidential declaration calling June 14 Flag Day, until I looked it up . I think my horoscope just came true!

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

 

Loving Luke

 

Available now at New Concepts Publishing
http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/lovingluke.htm

ISBN 978-1-60394-182-2

LOVING LUKE

A wrong number leads Chere Palmer to the biggest surprise of her life – Luke Fisher. Trusting Luke isn’t easy as his past catches up with him and one confession leads to several. Chere has to decide - walk away now or spend her life Loving Luke.

EXCERPT

Climbing into the Mustang, Luke dropped the seat back and settled in to call the tow truck and maybe snap a nap until it arrived. At least he could run the engine and create a cool breeze with the air conditioning system and avoid the humid night air, not to mention outwitting the mosquitoes. He picked up his cell phone and keyed in the number on his roadside assistance card and waited for someone to answer.

A silky smooth voice with just the barest whisper of the South greeted him. He rattled off his name and roadside assistance insurance number and waited for her to ask all the usual questions for filling out her forms. There was silence on the other end of the connection.

“Did you get all that?” he asked her. Her reply startled him.

“I’m sure you think you’re funny, but you’re not. Don’t call this number again.”

The connection went dead with a click. What the fuck?

He dialed the number again and the same voice answered, only a little less pleasant this time. Well, he was feeling a bit less pleasant, too. He paid a lot of money for roadside service and he expected to get it when he called for it. He was too tired, too hot and sweaty waiting for the car’s air conditioning to get up to speed, to tolerate games.

“Listen, whoever you are, I need roadside assistance. Just stop playing your little game and send the tow truck. You got that?”

“Me? I’m playing games? Listen, bucko, I don’t know who you think you’re calling, but I’m not a tow truck driver and you’re bloody well on your own.” The connection broke.

He looked at his phone, dismayed. Could he just have one thing go his way between now and dawn? He hit the redial. When she answered this time, she was hopping mad.

“Now you listen to me you smarmy son-of-a-bitch. You call me again and I’ll have the cops on you so fast you won’t know what the hell happened to you. Do you hear me?”

Well. Maybe he’d better try to be very nice and see where it got him. He felt more human since the air conditioning finally blew cool air at him. 

“Ma’am, I hear you. I need a tow truck and I dialed the number on my roadside assistance card. I’m really sorry to be bothering you if you’re not the agency listed.”

Nothing but complete silence. Had she disconnected again? “Hello?”

“Mister, are you telling me the truth?” Some of the anger left her voice.

“Lady, I don’t have energy to be jerking your chain and I wouldn’t lie unless there was a sub-machine gun pointed at my head. I need a tow truck.” He gave her the name of his insurance company. “Are you someplace you could maybe look up that number for me?”

He looked over at the only other car left on the lot, parked under a bright pole light. A pretty woman with long dark hair sat behind the wheel talking on a cell phone. She turned her head just enough that he saw most of her face.

“I’m sorry but I don’t have a phonebook in my purse. Call information, why don’t you?”

His mouth dropped open. He snapped it closed.

“Ma’am, I’m sitting in the parking lot of O’Malley’s with a flat tire –”

The woman in the other car jumped then turned to face him fully. Even across twelve dark parking spaces he saw the surprise on her face. He got out of his car and walked around to the passenger side and pointed at his front tire.

“See? It’s really flat.”

“Um, I see that.”

Luke hopped up on the hood of his car and waved at her. “Hi. I’m Luke.”

She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at him. “Hi. I’m Chere.”

 ***

For more on Loving Luke, please visit www.rayneforrest.com/LovingLuke.html

Also now avalable - Surrendered Victory by KC Kendricks
Rayne Forrest
www.rayneforrest.com
Sexual Deceptions - coming soon
Through a Glass Brightly

Dance naked = go to jail

You know it had to happen. Sooner or later someone had to snap over gas prices.

 

A man in Georgia pulled into a gas station and danced naked on his car. Then he made his mistake. He slammed his car into the gas pumps setting them on fire. He was subsequently arrested.

 

Too bad he didn’t stop with the dance. A naked man dancing on his car is enough of a political statement. Too bad they didn’t catch it for on YouTube.

The Girl List

1. Just be yourself.

2. If yourself is not a morning person, wake up and drink the coffee. Everything else can f*cking wait.

3. This too shall pass. Hangovers, heartaches, blackheads, and bad haircuts - time heals all. Except for a UTI. That misery-fest demands antibiotics, PRONTO.

4. When in doubt, throw it out. Apply this first rule of fridge cleanup to anything your not sure you need anymore - the little black dress that fits a much littler you, crushed tampons in your purse, the hot-but-boring boyfriend.

5. lifes a bitch. But aren’t we all sometimes?

6. Another woman’s success is not a measure of your failure. Maybe she got promoted before you because she looks better in skinny jeans. But maybe you have more friends and bigger boobs. So why compare?

7. Separate the men from the boys. Hint: the men are the ones who make you orgasm and pancakes.

8. Open your heart. Th scary stuff that makes you vulnerable is the good stuff.

9. If the shoe fits, BUY IT. When it comes to a sale in the footwear department, she who hesitates is lost.

10. Make out like a bandit. Life is too short to go unsexed.

11. You’ll know it when you see it, (the right job, the man for you)… and who says you have to explain it to others who don’t.

12. A leopard can’t change its spots. Nor can a ex-love unbreak your heart when you give him a second chance… or a third. Or a fourth.

13. Absence makes the heart grow fonder…. And the libido grow stronger.

14. Love what you do and do what..eh- who you love. Even if he never takes out the recycling.

15. SHOW…ME…THE…MONEY. More often then not, you have to ask for it. Subtlety doesn’t pay the rent- or earn your boss’s respect.

16. Fake it till you make it. Hey it works for politicians.

17. Save the drama for your mama. Complaining, whining, making excuses- all unattractive and boring to anyone who’s not you. Nobody said it would be easy.

18. Just do it. Those lifetime goals dont just happen. Its all about baby steps, baby.

19. You are what you eat. Nature’s reminder: asparagus pee.

20. Everything in moderation. And when you forget that:  Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear.

21. Love many, trust few, but always paddle your own canoe. Unless, of course, you’re up a creek without a paddle. In which case, you’re totally screwed.

22. Time heals all wounds, but chocolate is the best band-aid.

LOVING LUKE - now available! www.rayneforrest.com/LovingLuke.html

More about Loving Luke tomorrow

 

Rayne’s Top Ten Album Picks

Lists. There is no escaping lists. So if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Right?

 

Actually, what triggered this blog was a list of someone’s top fifty fave albums. I read it and only had TWO of the works included. Being a product of the sixties and seventies, the nineteen seventies, that is, I decided to do my own top ten album list and see where it took me.

 

It turned out to be harder than I thought, but not impossible. Ranking them? That is impossible. Each defines a time in my life, good or bad. So here’s my list, with some brief comments on why each album speaks to me.

 

Agree or disagree, it doesn’t matter. Musical taste is very personal and life is too short to squabble about it.

 

 

Madman Across the Water – Elton John (1971)

 

If anyone has laid down the soundtrack of my life, it has to be Elton. Every song brings back a memory, but none as sweet and soulful as those invoked by “Tiny Dancer,” the first Elton song I ever heard. Elton’s clear tenor and clean piano set the stage for a love affair that has lasted thirty-seven years.

 

 

News of the World – Queen (1977)

 

From the arena anthems of “We Will Rock You” and “We Are the Champions,” to the gut-wrenching love gone awry of “It’s Late,” News of the World is seamless. With less orchestration than previous albums, this album lays the groundwork for the future of Queen. News of the World sparkles, ice cold at times, as it serves up generous helping of male angst and aggression while showcasing the incredible vocals of Freddie Mercury.

 

 

Rumours – Fleetwood Mac (1977)

 

One of the top-selling albums of all time, worldwide, Rumours rocks with emotion. Every rocker knows the story of the group at this point (find it on Google if you don’t because I don’t have space here). It’s Stevie Nicks asking “have you any dreams you’d like to sell” that drew me in. Maybe I was out of dreams in 1977. Who knows? Rumours still plays as fresh as it did thirty-one years ago.

 

 

All the Right Reasons – Nickelback (2005)

 

What is it with this album? Other than Chad Kroger’s ass looks good in tight jeans, that is. I don’t know and I don’t care. I like it. My pick of the album? “The Next Contestant,” a testosterone-driven ditty with a male-to-male caveman message. I’m sure other drivers wonder why I’m grinning like a fool when it plays. 

 

 

Anthology - .38 Special

 

It’s true. I like Southern Rock, and .38 Special are the good, the bad, and the ugly of the genre. When they miss, they miss. But when they strike, it’s like chain lightning, and it’s great. Anthology weeds out most, but not all, of the misses and allows the sparks to fall where they may. 

 

 

Back in Black – AC/DC (1980)

 

The true definition of “edgy” to me. It’s not people my age playing songs from this on the jukebox at the bowling alley. It’s teenagers. The message doesn’t need to be put into words, although it was. “Rock and Roll Ain’t Noise Pollution, rock and roll will never die.”

 

 

Led Zeppelin II – Led Zeppelin (1970)

 

My introduction to FM radio came screaming out of the air from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow. Zeppelin truly was the hammer of the gods to rock and roll.

 

 

In Step – Stevie Ray Vaughan (1989)

 

Stevie who? I’d no clue when a friend presented me with a ticket to a dual concert. Steve Ray Vaughan first, followed by Gregg Allman on the I’m No Angel tour. By the end of the SRV set, I could be ranked among his fans, and I mourned his passing.

 

 

Psycho City – Great White (1992)

 

Great White is a frequently bypassed band. Marred by tragedy and substance abuse, the band is no more, but to me Psycho City stands as its proudest moment. Big guitar riffs, perfectly executed piano bridges, and raspy vocals begging for love while acting the cock of the walk merge for some hard driving rock music.

 

 

Born in the USA – Bruce Springsteen (1984)

 

Springsteen came of age with Born in the USA. He’s not been this good since. Cult artist or rock superstar, Bruce both lifted up and tore down middle-class America with the songs on this album. If you hadn’t lived it, you at least recognized it, and I bet you can still sing along to every song.

So there you have it. My top ten rock albums. If I did more than ten, I’d never get the next story written. And speaking of, I must get back to work. The words do not hit the page on their own.

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

www.myspace.com/rayneforrest

www.kckendricks.com

 

Challenged books, penguins, and Sexual Deceptions

My headline news first - Sexual Deceptions finally has a cover! Cool teal and hot as hell, let me tell ya. I love it. My partner in crime for the Sexual Series, Brenda Williamson, found the photo. Good job, Brenda.

 

Now on to what caught my attention this morning, which has nothing to do with Brenda so don’t yell at her.

 

The American Library Association (ALA) reports that a children’s book about penguins, specifically a family of penguins with two fathers, is at the top of their “challenged” list. Being naïve, I scratched my head and wondered how a book could be ‘challenged.’ People are certainly sometimes referred to as ‘challenged’, but a book?  Turns out it’s not that kind of challenged. It’s the throwing down the gauntlet sort of challenged.

 

To quote the article (thanks AP for not suing me), the ALA defines a challenge to a book as “a formal, written complaint filed with a library or school requesting that materials be removed because of content or appropriateness.”

 

It seems our little penguin daddys are perceived as homosexual and children might think that ‘lifestyle’ is acceptable. (Orientation, folks, orientation.)

 

Yo! Barney! You have some competition.

 

This is why I’m hooked on the headline news, folks. It so brightens my day. Laughter is good for the soul.

 

Also on the list - Maya Angelou’s memoir, “I Know Way the Caged Bird Sings,” and Mark Twain’s “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” 

 

So while I’m laughing at the notion that kids will think the penguins are gay all on their own without their parents putting that idea in their sponge-like brains, I do recognize the seriousness of a challenge to ANY book by any person or organization. We live in a world of very fine lines with blurred edges. My responsibility to make informed decisions about what my child reads should in no way prevent the author from freedom of expression and creation, nor should it remove that freedom of expression and creation from the access of another who is not like-minded.

 

The article states that according to the ALA, sixty-five challenges issued last year resulted in a book pulled. It’s not specific if that amounts to sixty-five books pulled, or if some of those “sixty-five challenges” were duplicates. My poor brain does flip out on ambiguity in a news story.  

 

I don’t have any small children, but I think I’ll order “And Tango Makes Three” when I get home tonight. I may never read it, or I may, but the rebel in my soul cries out that I need to support Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell’s freedom of expression, author to author(s).

 

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

www.myspace.com/rayneforrest