Author: Jonathon

Finished the event at Oak Brook IL around 1 AM. We are back in our room, waiting for food, Damn hypoglycemia. We are also relieved that we get to sleep in tomorrow. It was great to see everyone tonight and I’m glad that those of you that stayed to the last are such troopers.
Oh, and don’t forget the secrete discount code! Order your Tour Shirt while they last!
Cheers!

Ok, back from our nap, and somewhat refreshed. I’m looking forward to tonight’s event, and getting to see all of the familiar faces here in Chicago.
Oh, did I mention that today is our 3rd anniversary?
Guess it slipped my mind earlier.
More later…

We’re in Chicago, and we are getting ready for the event tonight.
We’re a little low on sleep after the amazing Signing last night in STL. I was phenomenal.
But now, my sweetie and I need to get some rest, or we won’t be able to see everyone.
More later.

Laurell just finished an interview where one of the questions was “What is your favorite Movie?”
Well, after answersing the question and sending it back to the publication, we talked about some of the most interesting television we’ve seen of late. What it boiled down to was that we watch more videos than TV and some of the most interesting stuff is Anime.
Case in point; we just finished the first volume of Wolf’s Rain, and we were left wanting more. The show is a little hard to get into in the first episode, but that is because there is no prologue or opening voiceover that explains all the back story. Instead, you are thrust into the meat of what is happeining now and have to build the past as the stroy slowly reveals it.
Another show we are loving is Last Exile. This is a great stroy, with character, and plot and amazing visuals. Again, there is little initial backgound, but as the opeinig action is so intense, you don’t miss it. By the time you realize that there wasn’t any opening background, its all been filled in by the current story.
Last but not least in our list of favorite new anime is Fruits Basket. To give you an idea of what it is like, I’ll qoute Laurell, “The main character makes Pollyanna look like a depressed piker.” If you have a chance to see this show, do so. It is only four disks, and it ends on kind of a cliff-hanger, but the story that it tells is compleate in itself. I’d love to see what happens next, but I’m happy with what I saw. There was no glaring threads left hanging, just a “where do we go freom here.”
I’m going to sign off now, as There is so much still to do, and only a day or two to do it in.
Cheers!

Just sitting down to work. My ex dropped Trinity off at a little after ten this morning so we could spend extra time with her before we leave on tour. (ex always sounds so punitive, but calling him Trinity’s father makes it sound odd, too.) So Jon and I spent the day with her. We did lunch out, our friend Richard joined us. He’s also house, dog, and crab sitting. This will be his first time sitting for the crabs while they molt. Molting is a mysterious and dangerous process. Bluebell, and now Frankenstien both caught us off guard with the molting, and have subsequently died. Frankenstien was doing fine until some time during the night about two weeks ago, some of the larger crabs ate most of the arms on one side off. So we put him in an isolation tank with extra heat and humidity. We did everything the crab sights recommended and he still died. Trinity doesn’t know yet. Mainly because the sick crab tank is above her eye level. This is our last weekend day with her before we leave. We’re sort of waiting for the right moment to break it to her.
After lunch we went to the local book store, and all of us looked for books. Jon and I for books to take on tour. Trinity for books to read for her enjoyment. She picked the book THE WITCH WHO WAS AFRAID OF WITCHES. I haven’t read it yet, but it looks interesting. She picked it on her own with no help from us. Genetics is so interesting. She didn’t get my curly hair, but she ended up with my oddly morbid streak, in a fun sort of way.
We had chais and a hot chocolate in the cafe area. She had a cookie. All good. Then we came home to help her continue to work on her bicycle riding. The training wheels have just come off. Her father said she’d worked on it yesterday and was making great progress. So we decided to help her keep it going. Good idea, right? I’d run Pippin along side and we’d have a real family moment. I can’t explain exactly, but Jon and I have different attitudes on how to teach bike riding. Conflicting philosophies. Richard had gone on an errand, so by the time he returned we ran by him our differing philosophies, and he sort of agreed with Jon. So be it. Jon and I can’t teach her to ride at the same time. Or maybe, I’m just not good at explaining the physics of bike riding.
Admittedly, I learned to ride a two wheeler by being dragged to the top of my Aunt Bonita’s driveway. A very steep driveway, and they let go of the bike. Wheee! There was a moderately busy road at the bottom of the driveway. So you had to make the turn, or else. Trouble was the turn had gravel in a pocket right where you’d most likely skid out. If you didn’t make the turn, and managed not to get hit by the cars there was a tree placed perfectly so you’d run right into it. I swear that damned tree had a special bike attracting magnet in it. Anyway, my memories of learning to ride a two wheeler are fraught with peril, if not outright terror. I still remember the sensation of racing down that hill with a car coming, and knowing I was not going to turn in time. Knowing I was hurtling to my death, missing the car, and hitting the tree, or throwing myself into the gravel purposefully as an alternative to hitting a speeding car. So maybe my attitude is a little too protective. Richard says I have some valid points, but that Jon does, too. So Jon and Richard are outside with Trinity and her bike. I am inside doing this, and when I stop, I will have to finish up an e-mail interview that is due tomorrow. Then, if there is time, I will actually do pages.
Maybe the day didn’t go as smoothly as I wanted, but sometimes it’s important as a couple to understand that sometimes your philosophies are so different, some things must not be done together. Sometimes neither of you is right, or wrong, just different, and you gotta give each other the space to do it differently, without the other person hovering.
Jon just peeked into the office. He’s limping. Trinity wiped out just infront of him. He tried to save her from falling, and ended up on the ground with her. He’s in search of peroxide for her scrapes, none of them too bad. She’s not even bleeding. Richard is making an ice pack up for Jon’s knee. Hmm.
Jon says she made three houses length before she wiped out and her steering was improving. I’m going to go and give everybody a hug.

Got up so early this morning for the first television of the tour, that when Jon and I walked outside my first thought was, My God, where’s the sun, it’s like totally black. With the construction we almost never park in our own driveway anymore, so I was walking across the yard in high heels in the dark. More adventure than I want before six in the morning. My hat is off to all of you good people who drag your butts out of bed before the sun, every day for work, or kid duty.
But the interview went well, and it’s over, and now all that’s left for the day is errands to finish getting ready for tour. The makeup worked on the telly, except for I needed more blush. Easily remedied the next time. The new base covers better but I’m going to have to go back and get a slightly different color. Good that we had a dry, or wet, run here in town. Also, what is it with girl dress shoes. I’m getting more blisters and sore feet with the brands designed to be comfortable. The high heels and shoes that look like they should hurt like hell are doing much less damage to my feet. Trust me to blow the curve.
Got an e-mail interview to finish up. It’s due like Monday. Need to edit the sneak peek from A STROKE OF MIDNIGHT that will be in the back of the paperback of SEDUCED BY MOONLIGHT. Need to do that before we leave on tour. Oh, and pages. I need to make pages. There’s this book I’m supposed to be writing, and it’s like due soon.
I am truly going to give it the ol’ college try and work on tour. If I can do it, it will make my life much easier. It will also help you guys get the books a little sooner.
They’ve come to take down the utility pole that all the wires were on. Now all the wires are underground, and the pole is the last thing to go. The guys with the big trucks were waiting for us when we got back from doing the television spot. So more vibrating growls of heavy equipment here in my office. Sigh.
For all of you who haven’t seen a copy of INCUBUS DREAMS yet, it’s a big book. While I was signing the copy of the book for the producer today, I thought again, this is a hefty book. I’ve finally reached the door stop size. No wonder it took so long to write it. Okay, long by my standards. Darla told me of a writer that puts two years between the books in their new series because the writer is also doing a second series at the same time. Two years between every book. All I could think of was, what a weenie. Though, of course, maybe that writer cuts themselves more slack, and has a more life giving schedule. Hmm, maybe.

Jon has informed me that Thornley may count as progressive, rather than hard. I’m a little fuzzy on the difference between the two, but I add it, just in case someone goes to the album expecting one thing, and getting another. That’s it, back to making pages.

Anyone who read my blog yesterday could tell I wasn’t in the best of moods. Good news is they’ve laid the footings so they have to wait for it to dry. So probably no big noisy machinery today. I still may go out today, because it worked better for some reason. I did eight pages. The most I’ve done on this book in awhile.
I took the Boise headset that Jon got me, that my friend, and fellow writer Marella Sands had recommended for the air plane rides. The headset cuts out a lot of the noise. But it’s a Boise so it also has amazingly good sound quality. I took my new very light weight portable that Jon and I shopped for yesterday so I would have as light a weight as possible to lug around on tour, and I took the headset, and some music.
The music was a happy accident. I was listening to our local hard rock station, because that suited my mood. I heard a song, by a band called Thornely. I liked the song, and since I was at a store that had both music and books, and a table to write on, I looked for the album. It’s their debut album, and it just plan kicks. Kicks ass, kicks butt, kicks whatever. The lyrics are great, the vocals are crisp, clean, and well done. The instrumental parts were well done, but not overly done. My main complaint about a lot of the harder bands is that they let the instruments get in the way of the vocals. If you like that, great, but I want to hear the band sing. Thornely can sing. The album saved my bacon yesterday, and my mood.

Here are pics of today’s addition to the mess in our back yard.
Enjoy!

I feel like a fox that has gone to ground. I’m in my dark, safe hole, but it’s not safe, not safe at all. I can hear the terriers digging at the earth above me. Their furious yelping, coming closer. It sounds supsciously like the thrum and whirring growl of heavy machinery. The hounds’ bays, are coming closer like the cement truck, and the giant crane that is looming over my house. Men’s voices shout back and forth all day, or so it seems. The calls of the hunters, encouraging their great mechanical dogs. “Dig her out,” they seem to say, “dig her out.”
I am being dug out. I can’t concentrate in this level of noise and activity. I hate people that cry about being an artist. That they can’t work unless the moon is in the right phase, or they have lavender ink, or pink paper. It’s all a bunch of whoie. I like my sticky notes, and I prefer pink or blue, but I can write anywhere, and have. But I feel invaded. If the book were going well, maybe, I could work through the noise and activity? But the book is not going well. Four pages, three pages; progress, but not enough. Not fast enough. Never fast enough.
I know part of the anxiety is the tour which is about seven days away. God, just writing that makes my throat and chest tight. Damn plane phobia. Damn travel phobia. Damn weird letters and people, so that you have to wonder just how crazy some of them are, and you end up with armed security, just in case. Most of my fans are some of the best people around. Kind and generous, and spunky, and stubborn, my kind of people, but there are a few, just a few, that take some of the fun out of meeting everybody in public.
The house and yard are full of people everyday. I try to ignore them, but I catch them out of the corners of my eyes as they move around outside. I can’t ignore that much movement from my windows, and I can’t work with the drapes down. I need more open space than that. Damn claustophobia.
It seems that every day there are people with clip boards in my yard, needing decisions made, questions answered that only the homeowner can answer or decide. Jon is taking most of it, but the landscaping is my baby more than his. I do have the degree in biology, and I did work in a green house in college. (though frankly I sometimes marvel that I was ever left in charge of an entire greenhouse. I did my best, and any care was better than the years of neglect it had suffered, but I was woefully under qualified.) So I walked around with our wonderful landscaper and the tree service gentlemen, also very nice. We made plans. Wonderful plans. This fall they will plant my cottage garden which I’ve wanted for years. Though, admittedly, climate being so different it won’t be an authentic English cottage garden, because I just can’t bear the thought of how much water it would take for some of those traditional plants to survive in St. Louis. So a more water and climate friendly version. Cool.
It’s all cool. The new edition will be wonderful. I marvel that a drawing is being made three dimensional. Right now it’s mostly a hole in the ground, but it’s coming along. Sometime while we’re gone on tour they will have to tear up our beautiful brick patio. I mean demolish it. Because the sewer line, clay tile original to the original part of the house broke. And it’s old enough that we need to replace it now, before we get everything built over it. We do not want to build the edition then have to tear it apart to replace the sewer line. No, no we don’t. But it will put a nearly nine foot pit where our patio should be, until it’s repaired. Sweet Jesus.
I have a choice. I can try and stay in my den, while the terriers dig, and the hounds bay, and the hunters haloo, or I can bolt. I can flee and hope I’m swifter than the dogs. Hope I can out run the noise and confusion, and find some safe refuge somewhere that is quiet enough and calm enough to allow me to work.
It feels doubly unfair, because on tour I will be without my den, as well. I will be out among strangers, at the mercy of their kindness, or lack there of. It’s like I’ve lost my sanctuary, weeks ahead of schedule. Tour makes me feel like an animal that has been dug out, and cast to run before the hounds. Thirteen events, thirteen cities, in fourteen days. Because I begged not to be out a month. I keep reminding myself that there are writers out there that would give their eye teeth to have their publisher put them out on tour. I am grateful that I’m doing well enough to have them want me on tour. But I’m good at tour. I love meeting everybody. Jon and I enjoy the crowds, and the questions (alright not the rude ones). But when I finish talking to the happy, smiling crowds, we don’t go home. We go to the next hotel, or plane, or train. Have I mentioned that I’m phobic of every type of transport known to man?
I’m out of here. I’m going to throw a few things in a case, and run with what I can carry. The hounds are in pursuit. Why does the line, “A horse, my kingdom for a horse,” suddenly spring to mind. I either need to out run the hounds, or make friends with them. Where are those dog treats when you need them?