Reflections on Today – My Birthday by Debra H. Goldstein

Today is my birthday. It isn’t a special birthday, but it is another notch in my belt of life. Another year around the sun. And a reminder that the years seem to each be moving faster than the one before.

 

When I was a child, I devoured books. If it was hot outside, I preferred to be indoors, where it was cooler, reading. My mother felt that I needed to get out of the house and play for at least an hour on those hot days. I specifically remember once, when there were no neighborhood children to play with (which always took care of the hour plus), I was forced to entertain myself outside for the hour. I sat on our front stoop periodically checking my watch only to be dismayed at how slowly time moved. That hour was an eternity. Today, an hour goes by so fast that it melds into other hours and the entire day passes before I know it.

 

One other thing I’ve noticed is that I no longer am the young hotshot. I’ve reached the age where people say “ma’am,” offer me senior drinks before I ask for them, and at club and organization meetings, I am respected for my institutional knowledge. The honors coming my way aren’t titled “Top women under thirty” or “Rising Star.” Instead, they are more like “Fifty Over Fifty.”

 

Being seasoned has its benefits – seeing my children happy in marriages and careers; having grandchildren; AARP and other discounts; and being able to use Rhett Butler’s “I don’t give a damn” line whenever I want. The sad part is knowing that there are less years left than have passed so there are things I would like to see or experience that I may not.

 

The latter thought is sad, but I’m not going to dwell on it. For now, I’m going to happy dance and celebrate this birthday!  (By the way, I'm not Poppy, but I loved this picture of one of granddogs wishing my husband a happy birthday) How do you feel about birthdays?

Copy Cut Paste

By Cathy Perkins

Have you heard about the latest scandal rocking RomanceLandia? A woman has been caught lifting sentences, paragraphs, pages from multiple (up to 20 and counting) authors and stringing them together into a new book.

Copy. Cut. Paste. 

Plagiarism. 

I thought about this while I walked the dogs and see the following spectrum from the benign to the terrible.

The Same, But Different

How many times have we seen that phrase as to what an agent/publisher wants? It’s why tropes are so popular in RomanceLandia: friends to lovers; secret baby. The mystery world has its own familiar plots. The protagonist who races to save the world before the villain takes over/destroys it. The serial killer; can the hero stop him before he kills again? The small-town heroine who a body and must investigate to remove herself from the prime suspect position.
Shoot, I’m part of a Common Elements Project where we’re all given the same five required elements, and then told Go!
What makes all of these “work” is each author will tell the story in a different way, with their unique voice. 
So, the same…but different.

The Inadvertent

This may be every author’s secret fear. Or maybe it’s just mine.
I read. A lot.
There’s always the concern a story’s clever phrase has tucked away in a memory cell and will reappear in a similar fashion on my page. I can’t point to a particular phrase—if I recognized it, I’d change it—but I fear it could happen. I remember reading—somewhere—that this is more common than expected. Or maybe the point of the article was it happens a lot more than we realize. 
But, again, I stress it’s inadvertent.

And the Ugly

Stealing. Deliberately.
Plagiarism hurts authors at a deeper level than the whack-a-mole, steal-a-book in a “free” download sites. Those sites and the people who use them are stealing from authors financially. 
Plagiarism takes an author’s soul. Words we’ve sweated over, melded into scenes to convey action, character and theme are casually stolen with no thought to the crafting that underlies them.
And worse, it’s done with full knowledge of the theft.
One of the authors impacted by Serruya is a friend—Courtney Milan. She’s written a post about her experience and her reaction. Because the hurt is so personal, I won’t presume to tell you about it. Instead, I urge you to read her words.

Authors – Have you worried about the inadvertent? Found your work ripped off?
Readers – Have you read something you felt was a little too close to something else you’ve read?



On a completely different note, I put DOUBLE DOWN on sale this week because it’s my birthday and I like to share (legally). 

DOUBLE DOWN is the second book in the Holly Price series, written because readers wanted to see events from Detective JC Dimitrak’s perspective.Murder isn’t supposed to be in the cards for blackjack dealer Maddie Larsson. Busted takes on a new meaning when her favorite customer, a former Poker World Tour champion, is murdered. His family claims—loudly and often—Maddie is the gold-digging murderer. She better prove she’s on the level before the real killer cashes in her chips. 

If the victim’s body had been dumped five hundred yards up the road, Franklin County Sheriff’s Detective JC Dimitrak wouldn’t have been assigned to the Tom Tom Casino murder case. Instead, he’s hunting for suspects and evidence while dealing with a nemesis from the past and trying to preserve his own future. He better play his hand correctly and find the killer before an innocent woman takes the ultimate hit.

Find it here from your favorite store. books2read.com/DoubleDown 

And because I forgot to put it on my calendar, HONOR CODE is also on sale this weekend, with a group promo.


In a small southern town where everyone normally knows each other’s business, veteran detective Larry Robbins must solve the disappearance of eighty-year-old widower, African-American George Beason.


When evidence arises that Beason may have left town on his own, it would be easy for Robbins to close the case, but his gut instinct tells him more’s at stake. As he uncovers clues about Beason’s deceased wife and his estranged daughter, Robbins must untangle conflicting motives and hidden agendas to bring Beason home alive.

HONOR CODE hit #1 in its category at release and the most recent fraud alert says another 5000 people downloaded it off a steal-a-book site this month. You can pick up a copy here or here. 

Happy Reading! 

Another Year Older and Counting Blessings

Yesterday was my birthday. The week leading up to it was full of chaos and turmoil caused by one of those people who have no empathy or conscience and walk around making life difficult for everyone. In the past, I would have tried to convince this person how wrong it was to do the things she was doing to others. I’m older and wiser now. These folks just don’t care, and they will bend the very shape of reality to avoid admitting they were wrong or made a mistake. Now, I pick my battles and try to keep all that toxicity away from myself. I did everything I could to help the victims and then moved on.

In this past year, I have noticed a growing sense of hostility and aggression out in the world around us—in politics, in traffic, in most places I look. The only way I know to truly combat it is to try to counter it with loving, peaceful acts and thoughts. But when so many around us are acting out, it’s hard to keep thinking and acting in a positive manner.

One technique that helps me is to focus on gratitude and the many blessings I’ve received. The angry people I know have received multitudes of blessings, but somehow they remain oblivious to them and filled with resentment and rage. Every day, I make a conscious choice not to be like them. Sometimes all I can do to follow through on that choice is to avoid taking out my irritation on everyone around me. Other days, I can contribute some peace and joy to the atmosphere around me.

This year, all of my three children are living in their hometown with me for the first time in fifteen years. That’s a huge blessing. I have well-received novels that are selling well. This is a dream come true. I am making a living (of sorts) by making up stories and writing them down. That’s another great blessing.  The year began with health scares for me and included more for two of my children, all of which came to nothing—another blessing of major magnitude. And the list goes on and on.

I believe that, if those cutting off people in traffic or committing hostile or underhanded acts against others in the workplace or attacking others viciously on the internet would take a moment to look at their lives, they, too, would find reasons for gratitude. As my grandmother used to say, “Any day I can suck in breath and stand up on my own feet gives me reason right there to be thankful.” It’s when we live blind to the miracles of our daily lives that we turn sour and mean.

So I’m beginning this new personal year with gratitude and recognition of the blessings that surround me, and I hope to continue in that vein for the entire year. One thing I truly appreciate is this blog—the wonderful women who are part of it with me and the great people who visit it and connect with us.

What about you? Have you noticed the rise in uncivil behavior lately? How do you deal with it? What are the things you’re grateful for? What are your blessings and little and big miracles?

NOTE: Something I’m not happy about is my inability to comment on this blog or reply to others’ comments right now. I’m trying to get answers to this problem from Blogger, but until then, please note that, if you leave a comment, I will respond to it on The Stiletto Gang Facebook page, which does recognize my existence—at least at this moment.

Mother's Day

By Laura Spinella


**This is an updated rerun of last year's post on the occasion of my mother's 84th birthday! She is happily celebrating with two of her grandchildren while I nurse a nasty pinched nerve. It's kept my blogging/sitting/typing skill set to the bare minimum. So my apologies for the repeat, but I'm sure Mother doesn't mind! Happy Birthday! 

There are certain things you can’t imagine in life, like how you might prefer summer to winter, and big holy crap things like a published book. The premise of this blog, I think, falls somewhere in between. Today is Mother’s 84th birthday. Last year we marveled over her Friday the 13th birthday, Downton Abbey-like manners, and sharp wit. This year we celebrate the same, less the black cat calendar date and with the addition of my book two later this year. Don't tell, it's a surprise, but we'll be uploading ISABEL'S RHAPSODY onto her birthday present come November. By then I guarantee Mother will have mastered the 21st century instrument of the printed word.

And by the way, it is Mother. Let’s get the terminology correct. Every year I look at rows of greeting cards marked Mom, and wonder, "Who would I send that to?" The card is a struggle on a lot of levels. We’re not an outwardly demonstrative group. I know lots of writers who’d use a card or blog to gush at length. They’d post gooey Facebook notes about how much Mom means and mark it with endless emoticons. While I’ve been known to tug at the heartstrings when it comes to my characters, it’s just not the way we do it at my house. Think more the decorum you’d display for the Queen. So, I thought, instead, I’d share a little with you about Mother (also never preceded by a possessive pronoun) who lives in Pennsylvania with my father. He’ll be 87 next month; he calls her Tootsie.

Mother’s name is Clarabel, which never struck me as odd, but you can bet spell check just marked it with a big red line. She was born prematurely, and for all the fuss and care taken with preemies today, let it be known that they stuck her in a coal stove. Eighty-four years later, and she’s happy to tell you the story. Her father was an interesting self-made man who, during the Great Depression, built houses and roads in Pennsylvania. Driving down any of those winding macadam-covered paths, she’ll say, “Your grandfather built this.” She attended a one-room school house that still stands next to a chapel. A painting of it hangs in her dining room. She is the middle daughter, of a middle daughter, of a middle daughter. My sister, Christine, got to be the next middle daughter, her daughter, Keryn, wise enough to be a middle daughter too, keeping that genealogical marker going. Mother’s mother was named Nora, which rhymes with Laura, and I like to think was subconsciously intentional on Mother’s part. Interestingly, this came full circle with the titling of ISABEL'S RHAPSODY. Mother remarked, "Well, that's almost like Clarabel's Rhapsody, isn't it?" Mmm, perhaps.  But I doubt Mother was on my mind as I worked a steamy Chapter Twelve! 

She didn’t go to college, and I think this has always bothered her. But post WWII wasn’t an era in which women and higher education were encouraged. On the other hand, do not confuse this with any mark of intelligence or drive. Mother attended Central Communications and Airlines Academy in Kansas City, MO, going on to become one of the first women in management at TWA. To do this, she had to move to New York City, quite an adventure for an 18-year old girl from rural Pennsylvania. There she met my father, whose job wasn’t nearly as important. (No worries, he makes his mark a little later in life. Perhaps his birthday falls on my next blog date.) Men significantly outnumbered women in the workplace, and Mother had her pick of suitors. She even brushed elbows with Howard Hughes who immediately washed his. As for my parents, the story goes that Mother had a date to meet a guy named Charlie Hiney under a clock in Times Square. My father showed up early and told him to get lost. My sisters and I are grateful for this intervention and a guaranteed childhood of torment!

The next thirty plus years take place on Long Island, where tradition was at the heart of most everything. Mother sewed like a five-star seamstress.  She could make doll clothes and real clothes and costumes and slipcovers. I’m not sure how this skill befell her, but I bet I had the best-dressed Barbies on the East Coast. I know I had the most incredible Halloween costumes. When I was eight, she broke her leg while ice-skating.  Mother never missed a beat, wearing a thigh-high cast from February to July. The Sound of Music is her favorite movie, and if you’re not of a Fox News, conservative mindset… Well, it would be my best advice you keep that information to yourself. I do.

My parents have traveled over the years. She’s enjoyed places like Italy, Israel and Austria. She’s not a resort type of person, though they did take a cruise last winter. She'd kvetched about the excursions, not the destinations or cost—well, maybe the cost—but mostly Mother was perturbed by the age restrictions. Apparently, cruise lines were not that excited about folks over 75 participating in their day trips. When she told me this I laughed under my breath, thinking: Good luck to whoever is running that show. Apparently, they hadn’t met Mother.

While that merely scratches the surface of Mother, I’ll leave it there, wishing her a happy 84th birthday and many more!

Love,

Laura Jean

Laura Spinella is the author of the award winning novel, BEAUTIFUL DISASTER, and the upcoming novel, ISABEL'S RHAPSODY. Visit her at www.lauraspinella.net   

Another Year Sneaking Up On Me

by Susan McBride

Yes, it's my birthday month, and I'm turning 47 this year (a little over a week from today as a matter of fact!).  It's amazing how quickly birthdays sneak up.  Kind of like blog due dates.  I think I've just finished with one and then another races around to bite me in the butt.

I remember loving birthday parties as a kid.  My mom used to go all out.  We'd think up a theme, send out invitations to my classmates and neighborhood friends.  Sometimes we'd have the party at home, playing games inside and out; other times, we'd head to a kid-friendly petting zoo or area park. I just remember being so excited for the day to arrive and very sorry (and tired) when it was over.

These days, I have to catch my birthday circled on the calendar to remind myself it's approaching.  I worked through my birthday last year (yes, sadly, I told both sides of the family I couldn't take the time off to do dinner or anything else because every writing hour was precious).  I'm on an equally insane deadline this year, but I've decided I will most certainly take off my birthday.  It falls on a Sunday, and Ed's itching to get back to Pumpkin Land (since we haven't been in a couple years).  He wants to do the corn maze (must remember to wear old "creek" shoes) and buy our pumpkins there (a lot more fun than picking them up at the grocery store).

Honestly, birthdays are still fun, but I don't worry so much about celebrating them.  The older I get--and the more crap I go through--the more I think that every day is a celebration.  Yeah, I'm sure I've said that before (again and again), but it's true.  If I see something I want to buy Ed--or a friend--I go ahead and get it.  I don't care if a holiday is anywhere near.  If I want to treat myself to a pedicure or a cupcake, I'll do it.  Life is one big birthday and the party should last as long as we're around to take part in it.

So not this Sunday but the next, I'll be tearing my fingers away from my keyboard and laughing my head off as Ed and I try to negotiate ourselves out of a crazy corn maze (I've seen corn stalks trampled when people get fed up and need a quick way out--but no short-cuts for us!).  I can't wait to pick out pumpkins from a real farm and take them home to set on the stoop (I don't carve them anymore--I just leave them out for the squirrels, who like to munch on them when they get hungry).

Whatever you do on my birthday, have fun!!!  And make like it's your birthday, too.  :-)

Happy Birthday

I love birthdays. I may not want to tell you how many candles are on my cake, but I love the concept of celebrating another year of living. Comes from my childhood when my Mom, the original Evelyn, would let me invite every kid in my class for my party, with little paper cups filled with candies at each place setting. We played pin the tail on the donkey, opened the presents, ate the cake, and everyone went home fuller and happier.

But better than celebrating my own birthday, I love making merry for family and friends. I know that at times during my kids' childhoods, I was tempted to work out a deal with the party guests: I meet you at the car with a cupcake and goody bag, you fork over the gift and we call it a day. But that was my occasional cynical side popping out of hiding.

The truth is I'm a sucker for kids' birthday parties: the themes, the cake that complements the theme, the party activities, even the goody bag items. I remember baking a cake in the shape of a soccer ball for my goalie seven year old, then having the kids play a game of soccer in the local park. Treat items were all English football related. For another of my kids, I made a Pac-Man cake with little ghosts; and for a special two year old party, I created a Big Bird cake whose feathers were sliced up lemon Chuckles candies.

So after four kids and countless parties, I thought I knew the scoop on entertaining the under-8 set. If they had a little too much sugar, I was reassured by the knowledge that their parents would have to deal with them, because birthday parties were limited to 90 minutes – tops.

Little did I realize that there is now a whole industry devoted to kids birthday parties – and the amounts to be made at these shindigs is almost enough for me to give up this writing gig. A recent report from ABC News, described the over-the-top birthday party Tori Spelling gave for her son's third birthday. Now given that Tori grew up in Spelling Manor, the largest home in Los Angeles County with 123 rooms, I am not surprised that the concept of "less is more" is not on Tori's radar screen.

But apparently there are enough "normal" folks that are going bonkers and broke over their kids' parties that there is now a new TLC reality show called, appropriately, "Outrageous Kids Parties." One set of parents threw a fairytale party for their little six-year-old princess. Hey, I can imagine this. What I can't conceive of is the 42 center pieces, 2000 flowers, 300 costumes, and a spa day for the six year old before the party. Budget for this extravaganza? $32,000.

I got married for less. What are these parents planning for the seventh birthday – skydiving for the class in Hawaii? Is there no sense of proportion? Any concept that such excess teaches every self-centered lesson in the book? That even if you have the money to afford such stupidity, you need to have the good sense not to spend it this way.

I don't need to tell you, Stiletto Faithful, that this is foolish, almost immoral in terms of waste. We all want to create lovely memories for our kids – and even for ourselves. I still feel good about those special days in our kids lives. But we know that racing up and down a makeshift soccer field with ten friends, then blowing out the candles and sitting around with these same friends telling bathroom jokes as only a seven year old can enjoy – those are the memories that last and warm you even when there are ten times the number of candles on the cake.

Marian, the Northern Half of Evelyn David

Brianna Sullivan Mysteries - e-book series
I Try Not to Drive Past Cemeteries- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Dog Days of Summer in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
The Holiday Spirit(s) of Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords
Undying Love in Lottawatah- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

The Sullivan Investigation Series
Murder Drops the Ball (Spring 2011)
Murder Takes the Cake- Paperback - Kindle
Murder Off the Books- Paperback - Kindle
Riley Come Home (short story)- Kindle - Nook - Smashwords

August Highs and Lows

August is my birthday month. I'm at an age where I'd just as soon forget birthdays, but since I'm getting so old, my kids seem to think it's remarkable and we should all celebrate. So that's what we did and we all had fun. We had dinner with two of our daughters and their husbands and my youngest granddaughter, who is 17. I was thrilled that she decided to stick around to celebrate with her grandma.

I got a new computer at the beginning of the month and of course had a guru transfer everything from one to the other. Of course not everything transferred--I have 3 old versions of Word Perfect filled with files as well as my Word files. We managed to find them finally.

What didn't come through were all my addresses in my address book. I now have Outlook where I had Outlook Express before. It may be a better mail program, but it certainly is confusing. Not only did I lose addresses, but I lost all my groups which I'm still working on.

The guru spent 4 hours at our house the first day and after I played with the computer and found out what all else was wrong or I couldn't find, he came back for another 3. Thanks to Mozy, an offline back-up service, I restored some missing stuff.

And this all ties back to my age--I'm getting far too old to keep learning all this complicated stuff. Had a big promo weekend that was great fun. Headed to the coast where I participated in a library's book and and craft fair, saw old friends, made new ones, stayed in the Santa Maria hotel where movie stars and politicians stayed in the hotel's first years--still a fabulous place. We headed down the coast to our kids' house and before the birthday celebration, went to the movies, out to eat, and I was the "cultural" speaker for a women's group. No one fell asleep and they laughed a lot, so I think I was happy. Of course that was part of the highs.

Another low was losing my Internet connection on the little Acer computer I take with me on trips. I did something wrong--think I can fix it, but the whole weekend away I was unable to get on the Net and do things I needed to do.

Another high, headed up to the mountains and spoke to a writers group connected to the Willow Bridge Bookstore about working with small presses, and the changes going on in the publishing industry right now. I love that bookstore and I always see old friends there and make new ones.

Received the cover for my new Deputy Tempe Crabtree mystery, Invisible Path, and also the galleys which I've corrected and sent back.

So, though August has been a bit bumpy, I lived through it. Now, it's on to September and new adventures which will include promoting Invisible Path.

Marilyn

Today is My Eldest Daughter's Birthday!

When I tell you how old she is today you're going to realize she's older than all of you youngsters who post regularly or guest post--and possibly even read this post.

My first baby girl is 58 today! I can't believe it. It was only a short time ago that I was that age. Or at least it seems so. Poor child, except for doing a lot of babysitting when I was a kid, I really had no idea how to take care of a baby. When Dana was born I lived 3000 miles away from home in my husband's home town in Maryland and barely knew my in-laws--and there were lots of them. Instead of asking for advice, I raised my newborn using a Good Housekeeping Baby Book. (I still have it.) At the time, hubby was stationed in Virginia and only got home on some weekends.

She lived through it all and actually thrived. By the time her sisters and brothers arrived she knew far more about mothering than I did at 19 when she came into my life. As the oldest child she also was the one who did all the things she was supposed to, excelled in school, and we had a great time together.

When she was a junior in high school she fell in love with Mike. He rode a motorcycle, skipped school and not at all what I'd hoped for for my Dana. The August after her high school graduation she married Mike. The wedding was nothing like Chelsea Clinton's. Dana made her own wedding dress and a couple of the bridesmaid's dresses and the flower girl's dress. We picked daisies out of our neighbor's yards to fill the baskets the girls carried. The wedding was performed by a Navy chaplain in the chapel on the Seabee base where my husband was stationed.

The reception was in our family room and backyard and I made all the food. A neighbor made the beautiful wedding cake. (This was the first of many wedding receptions that I prepared all the food for.)

Dana and Mike have been through a lot. Mike had a motorcycle accident during a race the day after their wedding. He was almost killed in a bizarre truck accident on the job and spent nearly 6 weeks in the hospital with Dana staying by his side nearly the whole time. I took care of their two kids.

They now have five grandkids, both are retired and love to travel all over in their motor home. We've gone with them a couple of times.

A lot has happened since that darling baby was born 58 years ago--but it doesn't seem all that long.

And the point of this story? Enjoy each day to the fullest, because it goes by far too fast.

Marilyn
http://fictionforyou.com/