I Guess It's Winter Now

Here in the Northeast we have been enjoying what I like to call "fall" all the way up until today. This state includes temperatures in the 50s, plenty of warmer sunny days with nights dipping down just to freezing but not below--and not a snowflake in sight. This is a rare occurence. If you will remember, last year we had a horrible storm on Thanksgiving (which was a full month ago now) that knocked out power in our area for 3 days for some people, and Buffalo, NY got 8 feet in one day. The year before that, Halloween got dumped on, turning little power rangers everywhere into power ranger snowmen.

So I guess it's finally winter now.

This is my parents house, and if you look closely, you will see that every tree and power line is covered in a thick coat of ice.

This makes me feel nostalgic for the ice storm of 1992.

Trees cracking in the middle of the night. A thick layer of ice coating every surface. Power lines crashing to the ground! Polar bears moving into the southern parts of Canada! Clouds so low you could touch them if you stood on the porch roof! A skating rink in every driveway, road, and mug!! And I had to walk to school in this weather, five miles each way, with only a 1/4 cup of coffee to keep me warm. Here's a picture: 

That's Gary on the left, Cricket the dog in front, and an adorable Ariele on the right.

Yeah, I was 4. I don't remember this ice storm at all. I'm not even sure it was in 1992. But we can all invent memories, right?

Compared to past polar vortices (snicker) today's storm is nothing too spectacular, though I am pleased that I don't have to drive in it. It snowed, and then it started raining so there was a layer of ice on the snow, and then it started snowing again, and the weather station Josh's dad gave us for Christmas is so confused it just keeps showing us that it is bubbling outside. 

Bubbles! Let it bubble, let it bubble, let it bubble! (And yes, it is 22 outside and 52 inside. I promise I finally turned on the heat.)

But I have a confession to make: I love snow. And no, I don't ski. Or snowboard. I just think that snow is so cool (literally and figuratively).

Think about it: way up in the clouds where it is below freezing, little droplets of water freeze into ice crystals that form patterns around bits of dust and dirt in the air. Slowly, the ice crystals grow, getting heavier and heavier until they plummet towards earth. There are so many of them that they cover huge swaths of land in layer after layer of snow, each flake different than the one before it.

Sometimes, depending on the conditions in the clouds, the flakes are really big or really wet or really small or almost like hail. 

And it's always different! Every snowstorm is different! Sometimes you can make snowballs and sometimes when you go outside it's like swimming through really thick water. Sometimes it's dry and dusty, and sometimes little icicles forms on your mustache (not that this has ever happened to me...).

See how much I love it? 

I'm not sure how much more interesting the universe can get than weather. I know that sometimes it sucks--the tornadoes in Texas for example--but when it's snowing or raining or hailing or micro-bursting or thunderstorming--I love it. 

I love thinking about space weather too, because the weather that frustrates and infuriates and intrigues so many humans here on Earth is so small, almost insignificant compared to things like the massive storm on Jupiter, the Great Red Spot, that is bigger than three Earths, and has been raging for at least 185 years and possibly more like 350 years. Probably best to not buy any real estate over there. But even that is a small example.

There are sun spots (sometimes as large as Jupiter, which itself is bigger than 1,321 Earths) and solar flares which eject from the sun at 1250 miles per second and could potentially hit Earth.

Even these are small when compared to storms caused by the death of a star. When a star explodes it sends massive waves of gas and dust out into the universe and can eat up entire solar systems. Check out this explanation of the death of a star: 

And even that is smaller than Nebula-sized storms. This gas storm is in the Sagittarius constellation in the Swan Nebula, over 5500 light years away.

It's gorgeous.

Storms of this magnitude are so huge they are nearly impossible to comprehend. Who can really fathom something so big that standing next to it would be like a germ standing next to the sun. Storms the size of a billion billion Earths don't even come close to the terrible roads in New England in January.

At the same time, gas storms in the Swan Nebula don't make it impossible to drive. Although, they might make it impossible to drive a spaceship...

The universe is beautiful, and one of the things that makes it beautiful is weather. So I say, let it snow! <3

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Evan is less enthused about the snow. I guess that is why he decided to move to the South.

Here's The Thing About Having Friends

Me and my friends at my Wounded World book launch!

Traversing the world of writing has been an extremely interesting experience for me, as I have learned about independent publishing, met many other authors, and worked towards achieving personal goals. One thing I have learned is how important it is to have an author community for support.

Not just "support" either, as in people to help you do stuff or to answer questions. But "support" as in people to convince you not to quit when you are convinced everyone hates your work or as in people who show up at 10 PM with ice cream and a good book and drag you and your bloodshot eyes away from your computer.

Many authors (such as I!) are the solitary type. I of course have family and friends, but when I need personal space, I NEED personal space, and I need personal space far more often than I need human interaction. I love my computer and my living room and my work, and it can be super tempting to dismiss any need for interpersonal interaction as a distraction and focus solely on whatever project I'm working on.

But other authors, especially with the advent of independent publishing, have never been more supportive or accessible. I have received invaluable critique, support, and guidance from the authors in my community, late night complaining sessions and self esteem boosters, people to do authoring stuff with--and wouldn't be where I am today without them.

Here are just a few things I have gotten from my writing community, and these things (at least the general concepts, not probably the specifics) are things you can get out of whatever community you are a part of.

Knowledge is power.

Me and Stefanie Jolicoeur at a book signing in downtown Dover.

You never know what you don’t know until someone else points it out to you, and my author community has done this for me. For example, what is self publishing? I had no idea, until my friends told me. How do you do it? Still not 100% sure on this point, but I'm working on it. :)

I have learned a ton from my author friends – strategies for marketing my book, errors or issues with my work, recommendations for platforms, website construction, the various elements of publishing, and more. 

And I'm still learning (thank goodness)! Information is everywhere and it can be ridiculously difficult to figure out what is worthwhile and what is not. A team can help you sift through stuff and figure out what is worth remembering.

Cost-sharing can help make self-publishing more affordable.

For an independent author single-handedly funding my own career, cutting costs wherever and whenever I can is crucial. My amigos and I have teamed up for festivals and paid events, traded work (copy editing for cover art, for example), and shared tips on other ways to save, such as where to buy the cheapest bookmarks. Of course we all have different goals (mainly to sell OUR OWN books), but we can still drag each other along the writing highway of hell.

It's important for us to remember that it's not always a competition. Books aren't like refrigerators--once you have one, you can buy as many more as you want. A reader will walk into a store and buy half a dozen books. I've been at events where someone comes up and buys one book from each author at the table, or when I'm on my own, bought a copy of every single book I had available (thank you magical book lovers/author supporters! I love you!).

Teamwork! It makes the dream work! Or something like that.

Marketing is the bane of every author's existence..

Seriously though, we hate it. I don't think I've ever met an author who said, "I LOVE MARKETING!" Most procrastinate on it as much as possible. Some even pass off the responsibility to a spouse or a friend or a sibling.

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Without a publisher behind you to promote your latest work, the impetus for driving sales falls squarely on your own shoulders (and it frequently does even with a publisher). Being a part of a community of writers makes this process much easier as you can help each other market, decreasing the stress of selling your book while simultaneously making new friends. In addition to teaming up for in-person events, you can host or participate in blog tours, social media takeovers, Google+ Hangouts, online libraries, anthologies, and more.

Critique hurts. It also helps.

Possibly the most difficult thing to get used to is having valid, constructive criticism levied against your work. Although you can certainly find beta readers among your friends and family, there is a huge value to having a professional writer or author review your work.

Inexperienced family and friends, if unwilling to hurt your feelings, might just say, "I really enjoyed it!" or if they are trying, might say, "Maybe just clean up some of the dialogue" (or some other vague and less than helpful feedback. Another writer might say, "this scene is irrelevant to the plot and should probably be deleted," or "this plot device is a trope and you should aim to add something else here." It's sort of like being put on the rack--you get stretched and stretched and stretched, and it hurts, but at least you're a little taller in the end.

Because an independent author is self-reliant throughout publishing process, it can be easy to think, “my book is perfect and you don’t know what you’re talking about” approach to critique. But your work probably isn't perfect. It might even suck. So if you truly want to create the best book possible, critique is critical, and you can find it in the author community. 

General support for general things in general. 

Sometimes, all you  need is a thumbs up, whether in person, via text, or on Facebook. The one thing the author community can give you that you cannot receive from any other group of people is empathy for what you are going through. Independent authors have a different set of challenges than traditionally published authors, and it can be a huge stress relief to simply have someone to talk to that understands your frustrations. CreateSpace sent you a box of purple books? Or books with weird glue? Your internet cut out in the middle of uploading your ebooks? You have stagnated and your Facebook page isn’t generating any more followers? You have writers' block? You discovered someone else already wrote the book you are working on? MS Word crashed? AGAIN? Ugh. Your author friends will understand, and possibly even help you overcome these difficulties.

The author community is big, and whether you write science fiction, non-fiction, poetry, romance, or new adult paranormal urban fantasy dystopian, you can find a community that will support you in your work and help you advance to the next level.

Everybody else is awesome, too.

This is what we looked like at the bottom of Mt Washington.

Now, this whole post isn't designed to negate the importance of the rest of your community. I wouldn't survive without Josh there to tell me to stop being so hard on myself or to buy me little Google ads as random surprise presents. Or without my big brother who I call and harass about marketing, sales, money, computers, websites, math, and other annoying things.

And here we are at the top of Mt Washington.

Or my little brother, with whom I commiserate about being self-employed and having to work with other (dare I say it) humans. Or my mom for reading everything I write and loving it, even when it's terrible but also telling me when it's terrible. Or my dad for always being supportive and upbeat, and never giving up on me. Or my best friend for listening to me blab on and on and on and on about anything and everything. Or my other plethora of friends, family, and community members who give me encouragement, support, and buy my books (yes this is a key self-esteem booster and really important form of support).

I would be lost without them. But I would be lost without my author friends too. It's a team effort, just like sky diving is. Or bear catching. Or model airplane building. Or cooking. Or steam engine racing. Or space travel. Or just life in general.

So thanks.

If you're looking for an author community of your own, check out a few of these!

• The Genre Underground
• Infinite Ink Authors
• Indie Inked
• Independent Publishers of New England 
• Your Local Library!

And as long as we're making lists of things, here are a couple of my friend authors that you can check out, who provide some of that support I mentioned. :)

• Zoe Cannon (YA Dystopian)
• Christopher Kellen (Sword and Sorcery Fantasy)
• Stefanie Jolicoeur (Kids books and Middle Grade novels)
• KD Mason (Adult Mystery)
• J Zachary Pike (Fantasy)

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5 Inches Tall - A Short Story by 8-Year Old Ariele

This is me at about the age I was when I wrote this story. Maybe. I'm bad with ages, so your guess is as good as mine.

Most of you know I have been writing my whole life. Well, just the other day, I was digging through some old papers looking for a specific photo, when I found a gem. The Hope Diamond of short stories. I think I wrote it in third grade, and if you must know, I got a B on the assignment. I don't know what the actual assignment was, but the story... well, you'll see for yourself soon enough.

There are two versions of the story--the typed and the handwritten. The handwritten is a much better story, so I've copied that one here. I've also added some of my grown-up thoughts at the end as footnotes, and some illustrations designed purely for your amusement.

Please--enjoy!

5 Inches Tall

One day I was playing in my backyard, when Sarah, my friend, said she was going to get a tour of a Science/Chemical Laboratory called "How To." (1) She asked if I could go with her. Of course I said yes, because I LOVE science. (2)

This is what taking walks in my parents' field would look like if I were 5 inches high.

When we got there, the scientist that was going to give us the tour was working on a formula to make people taller. He was set on making a fortune.

He asked me to hold the test tube for him. (3) While I was holding the test tube, the scientist put in a bright hot orange looking liquid chemical. Suddenly the test tube exploded. I was knocked out for about 5 secs. until the smoke cleared. (4)

When I woke up, everything looked funny.

Everything looked bigger. When I turned around, I saw a big white thing. It was my friend's shoe. I quickly jumped up on Sarah's shoe and untied it. When she bent down, she saw me and turned white.

I would forever have to watch out for cats! "FRIENDS, NOT FOOD," I would yell loudly.

"Ariele!" she gasped. "What happened?"

"The formula he made makes people smaller, not bigger!" (5)

"You're gonna have a really, really tough time in life now!" she commented. (6)

As soon as I got home my parents took me to the hospital. (7)

"Well, she's too small to operate on," said the doctor. "You'll have to take her back to the scientist and have him make another formula to make her bigger."

If I kept doing photo shoots with Mom's vegetables, it would look about like this.

That's how I got to be five inches tall. That was almost the end of it. But those are stories for different times. (8)

FOOTNOTES

(1) I'm very good at naming things. Especially Science/Chemical laboratories.

(2) Do I love science? Or don't I? This emphasis could be either sincere or sarcastic. With an 8 year old, who knows?

(3) Clearly I had never visited a Science/Chemical laboratory, or I would know they have tools that will hold test tubes for you, instead of people. And that they would never hand volatile chemicals to an 8 year old.

(4) I wonder what happened to the solution and all the broken glass.

(5) A surprising twist.

(6) My favourite line ever. Very matter of fact.

(7) Glad they waited until I got home.

(8) I wonder when those times will come--or if they will ever come?

"Good story" eh ;)

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A Turtle Named Lionel [The Turtle Sonnet]

Have you ever had a pet turtle? I've had several.

There are lots of great reasons to get a turtle. Like for transportation.

It all started when I was a kid. If there was a turtle by the side of the road, we picked it up. Every time. (Except if it was a snapper.) Why? I don't know. A family obsession? A family eccentricity? Because it was fun?

Most of the turtles we picked up were box or painted turtles, so they didn't need aquariums full of water or anything. Instead, we fed them lettuce and worms, and they wandered around the kitchen floor freaking out the cats and over-exciting the dogs. Every single turtle we picked up when I was a kid was named Turtline. Why? You'll have to ask my dad.

One day, Turtline disappeared. We looked everywhere for her--under tables, under chairs, behind cabinets--but she was nowhere to be found. One day passed. Then two days. Then three, four, five... a week. We assumed she had escaped through an open door, or been picked up by the dog and deposited in the driveway.

Then, one evening, my dad heard a thumping noise. He looked up and saw Turtline strolling casually across the living room. She had been hiding in the back of the shoe closet, doing who knows what, who knows why. 

You'll have to wait for the movie to find out: The Secret Life of Turtles.

Now, you'll have to forgive me--I could only find two pictures of Turtline (and there is no guarantee that these are the same turtle, or even Turtline, for that matter). Both pictures are from a scrapbook I made when I was 12.

In this one, Turtline seems to be in a bucket of some sort.

Here, the photo is helpfully labelled, "Turtle."

But despite my relative lack of photographic evidence, Turtline was an important player in my childhood. So much so, that when I was in college and found a turtle by the side of the road, I took it home.

I named him Lionel, and he was my first love. I built him a house made from a box. I filled it with mud and plants and rocks. I fed him lettuce and snails and worms. I let him wander through my very, very small one-room house as much or as little as he pleased. We went for walks in the park (which mostly consisted of me studying on blanket and letting him walk a few feet away and then picking him up and putting him back where he started). I gave him baths. I rescued him from trying to get down the porch steps--he would fall and land on his back, the rock back and forth until he flipped over and fell down the next step, landing on his back again. It's a pretty slow method for going down steps.

But my favourite thing to do was to feed him peaches.

Lionel loved peaches. They were his favourite treat in the whole wide world. I bought big ones, and then cut them into little pieces that I fed him one at a time. He would hide in his shell until he thought I wasn't looking, and the poke his head out, grab the peach, swallow it whole, and go back in his shell. If I turned around while his head was out of his shell, he froze. After all, I couldn't see him if he wasn't moving, right? Every day we sat on the porch and played hide and seek with peaches. Eventually, he ate them right out of my hand, but only if I wasn't moving, of course.

It was the best month of my life. 

After a few weeks I knew I had to let him go. He was a wild turtle, after all. So I set him down in the woods, near where I had found him. There was a pond nearby. I watched him hustle through the leaves into the trees until he disappeared. 

And every few weeks after that I would go, leave a pile of cut up peaches on the ground where I had left him. 

Turtles love peaches.

I never saw him again, and I don't even have a photo to remember him by.

Doesn't Gaheris the Turtle look just a bit... evil?

Since then, I've only had one other turtle: Gaheris. I didn't like Gaheris as much. He was cranky and a mud turtle, so I had to keep massive amounts of water on hand for him. He climbed all over my shoes, and didn't like to take baths. He didn't even like peaches. 

Plus, he didn't get along too well with the cat. I only ended up keeping him for a week, and then I dropped him off in my grandmother's pond.

Gaheris always looked like this--that sort of arrogant smile and the scheming look in his eyes. He was probably planning to eat the cat when I wasn't looking.

I guess it just goes to show that one is not always like another. Especially when it comes to turtles. I may pick up another turtle or two in my lifetime, but there will never be another like Lionel.

The Turtle Sonnet

For Lionel.

Once I had a turtle named Lionel,
The greatest turtle I have ever known.
He never thought to cry or bark or yell,
Nor say a harsh word, growl, complain, or moan.

Instead we went for walks on sunny days, 
And took long baths in the warm summer sun,
Lounged on the porch beneath the sun's bright rays.
I fed him peaches one by one by one.

Though our time together was much too brief,
Lionel now has a piece of my heart.
Time will drive us to turn leaf after leaf.
I think fondly of him though we're apart.

And although these things must come to an end
I won't forget my favourite turtle friend.

This isn't Lionel, but he basically looked like this. Except this turtle doesn't have the little quirky little smile, the mischievous glint in his eye, or the little wrinkle on the left side of his mouth. Actually, this turtle looks nothing like Lionel--I take it back. 

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New Rutherford Books!

A few weeks ago I released my two newest Rutherford the Unicorn Sheep stories: Rutherford the Unicorn Sheep at the Walnut Skunk Thanksgiving, and Rutherford the Unicorn Sheep and the Christmas Surprise.

WOOOO!

Fun Fact: There is a secret bit of foreshadowing in the Thanksgiving book that leads to the Christmas book.

As we're moving into the holiday season, I thought I'd give a little background on both books, told through a series of fun facts. Because what is more fun than fun facts? Not much, that is for sure.

Fun Fact #1: The Cats Were A Surprise.

When I initially started creating the books, I wasn't planning to have the cats in the story, HOWEVER, cats have minds of their own and kept photo bombing us. Take this picture for example, a version of which appears in the Christmas Surprise: 

Fun Fact: Wilfred can be an annoying little brat sometimes, but he's cute so he gets away with it.

Fun Fact: At just over one year old, Wilfred now weighs 12 pounds and I'm not convinced he's done growing yet.

I had nothing to do with it. There was a fly and, well, he needed it.

Since Rowan and Wilfred decided they wanted to be in the books, I thought it would be fun to feature all three of them, but unfortunately Goblin was... uncooperative.

Fun Fact: although Goblin is a beautiful cat, she has always been uncooperative for photo shoots.

More on uncooperative models here.

Fun Fact: Goblin is old for a cat, so her belly is super baggy. It would be fun to grab if she didn't go after me with her claws every time I tried.

So only Rowan and Wilfred featured in the books. We'll get Goblin some other time. You can find their bios in the back with mine in the stories that they are in.

Fun Fact #2: Both Stories Happen at My House.

Originally I intended to do the Christmas story at a variety of different people's houses, but given tight deadlines, I ended up taking the photos in different places around my house--the cat tree, the closet, the radiator corner, the front yard, the deck-- you get it.

It was fine for the Thanksgiving book. Walnut Skunks celebrate their Thanksgiving in early October (a fact which appears in the glossary of the book), so I had no issues. But for the Christmas book, I had a problem: I was taking pictures for a winter scene during the summer. As a result, some of my outdoor pictures turned out seasonally inappropriate. Now, I don't mind a little grass, as it does stay greenish even in the winter, or dead leaves. But marigolds...?

Fun Fact: For this photo shoot, I kept having to pick Rowan up and drop her on the deck, where she would sit for about two minutes before wandering either off the deck or over to me to be petted.

Luckily, my wonderful mother pointed this out to me when she read the rough draft, so I had to re-take some photos with snow. Where did I get snow? you ask. 

You tell me...

Fun fact: Rutherford has a cute butt.

Fun Fact #3: The Worms Really Did Jump.

Now I don't want to go into to much detail so I don't spoil any of the story, but the worms did jump. I don't really know why, but it was very surprising and kind of hilarious. We'll leave it at that--a fun fact for those who have read the books to understand, and those who haven't to find out.

------------------

Well I'll leave it there for now. I've sold out of the Christmas book once already, so if you're interested, grab your copy today. It's a unique Christmas gift, and it's awesome to boot (biased opinion, here).

If you're looking for more fun Rutherford stories, check out the new, FREE story I posted over on the unicorn sheep blog!

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