Kristal Lee

Last year my job required me to take an Excel workshop. I'm not sure the expense the agency paid was worth the small amount of use required at work, but I'm not complaining. What I learned, I brought home and incorporated into my after-hours writing career. I built a spreadsheet to track words written on WIPs, my blog posts, and book reviews.

On Jan. 1st, I began monitoring my writing habits and productivity. To my surprise, I discovered that I liked being accountable to a chart designed with my favorite colors, with columns and boxes and totals galore. I can easily turn those into pie charts and graphs and forget how much I hated those things in math class. You see, math is not "my thing."

Oh, I can solve those mathematical equations, teeth gritted and fists clenched, under protest. But, really, who cares how fast Timmy has to walk to get to the station before the train going 55 miles an hour from Cincinnati arrives at 3:45, if he leaves his house at 2:15. I'm more concerned with why is Timmy walking alone? Where's his parents? Why can't someone take him? And why the heck is he going to the train station in the first place? That's why I'm a writer and not a mathematician. Much to the dismay of Mr. D., my tenth grade geometry teacher.

Photo: http://lkysppeak.wordpress.com

Maybe if we'd had Excel back then, my life would've had a different direction....Yeah, probably not. It's not the science of formulas and what-not that excited me when I began using my spreadsheet. It was seeing the numbers. Numbers that titillate rather than fill me with trepidation. Numbers that equal words written. Numbers that finally mean something to me.

A glance at January's spreadsheet revealed 12,011 words completed on Howlin Grace (current WIP), 2,152 for it's KRISTAL kLEEr, 1,756 for NKotWB, giving me a grand total of 15,919 for the month. Not too shabby. Of course, I'm a goal-setter. I'll have to best that number in February. Quite a challenge, too. February is a short month. I'd better get busy!

Photo: majorlycool.com

What no {husband} of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when {she's} staring out of the window.  ~Burton Rascoe

Sometimes it seems Professor X is more anxious than I am to see my stories published. On the weekends, which is when the bulk of my writing is accomplished, he always asks, "how much writing did you do today?"

Whenever I reply, "I did 3,000 words," his mouth folds with an expression more smirk than smile and with a nod he wheels on his merry way. I wouldn't say those days are rare, but neither are the ones where my response is simply, "I didn't get any writing done today." That garners a sigh, along with a chastisement that I won't get published by staring out the window.

That's true, if all that was happening was me staring out the window with a vacuous mind. Writer's rarely, if ever, have vacuous minds. We stare into space envisioning a sci-fi thriller, we peer beyond the backyard scenery into the past to ferret out historical plots, we gaze at the moon for a mystical glimpse into enchanted worlds.

And sometimes we wait. Wait for characters to emerge beyond the window so that we can invite them in and listen. Other times we're forced to watch as they disappear, taking with them our plans and predictions for their story. They aren't ready to tell their tales and we must wait until they are.

I remember working feverishly on a werewolf project in 2009. Everywhere I turned, I found massive road blocks to the plot, characters were running hog-wild all over the computer page. Out of control, unruly, and definitely not conforming to the character development worksheets I'd so carefully crafted.

I'm not sure if I was frustrated or relieved the day that stubborn Alpha Male werewolf launched himself off my computer screen and straight through the picture window framing my desk. His black fur, nothing more than a dark streak as he leaped over the fence and vanished.

He didn't venture far. I sensed him in the rustling brush in late afternoons, heard his howls riding the wind, felt his nearness in my writer's soul. He had oats to sow. I had other projects. Still, there were days when I found myself staring out the window. Wondering, wondering, wondering what would become of him.

Last fall, my wandering werewolf loped over the fence and nosed the back door. He was ready to tell his story and I was ready to listen. With rapturous delight I discovered my errant wolf had brought home not only his tale, but also a few friends with their own stories to tell.

I might've missed them all, had I not been sitting at my desk staring out the window.

On this day, 25 years ago, the Challenger Space Shuttle exploded over the eastern seaboard of Florida. Fiery debris littered the Atlantic ocean while vapor trails and curling smoke crisscrossed the otherwise clear, baby blue sky.

Even though I lived in south Florida, I could see the shuttles arch high in the sky mere moments after launch. That day was no different. I was driving down the highway on my way to work. The radio blared with the launch countdown and I carefully watched over the ridge of the dike surrounding Lake Okeechobee. I saw the marshmallowy trail and at the moment the fuel boosters should've separated I watched everything spiral out of control, like the inward workings of a clock that had sprung apart. I'd seen all the shuttle launches from the little town where I grew up. None had ever looked like that. Something went wrong. I knew it. I felt it.

Dead silence fell over the radio. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but dead silence.

Once I made it to work, the televisions that normally showed the closed circuit cameras feed were all tuned to the news channels. The announcer confirmed what I had known in my heart. The Challenger had exploded. I knew there would be no survivors. No one could've survived that kind of catastrophe at that altitude.

It was the first National disaster that I remember. Mind-numbing. Breath-stealing. Heart wrenching. We were all affected. One Nation in mourning for our heroes: Commander Francis Scobee, 46; pilot Michael Smith, 40; Judith Resnik, 36; Ronald McNair, 35; Ellison Onizuka, 39, Gregory Jarvis, 41; and Christa McAuliffe, 37.

Photo: FoxNews.com

Today I remember them again and think of the progress we've made with the International Space Station and the sacrifices that got us there. But priorities change with time.

Living closer to the Space Coast than I did in 1986, I'm more aware of the perilous politics surrounding the space program in Central Florida. Shuttles are scheduled for retirement without replacements. Funding is strained and thinning. NASA--once a shining star, has lost it's luster in these economically depressed times. 


My hope is that our country will one day experience a renewed passion for space exploration. With it comes a sense of wonderment, the vastness of endless possibilities, and the hope for a better future for all generations. I believe those dreams are what the Challenger heroes held in their hearts as the launched into history.

God speed, Challenger crew. Though you rest in peace, we have not forgotten you.


Do you remember where you were when the Challenger was lost?

I'm hanging with the New Kids today. Stop by and comment on the first romance novel that you remember reading.  www.newkidonthewritersblock.blogspot.com

ISBN-10: 0425228169
ISBN-13: 978-0425228166
Publisher: Berkley Trade
Release Date: Dec 7, 2010
Pages: 320
Retail Price: $15.00

It's Thursday and I've skipped over to New Kids on the Writer's Block. I'm sharing what's on my to-be-read list for 2011. Stop over and tell me yours.  

I'm hanging with the New Kids today. Drop by NKotWB and check out our favorite reads of 2010.
www.newkidonthewritersblock.blogspot.com

FIREWALKER by Allysson James

Berkley Sensation
RELEASED: November 2, 2010
The continuing adventures of Janet and Mick.
Read an Excerpt  (Hyperlink  redirects to author's page.)

Reviewed for The Season.

Gold  Coin Rating:  4                           
Heat Level:   Bonfire                              
{Click here to review treasure chest rating system.}


Firewalker is unlike any paranormal romance that I’ve read.  It’s reminiscent of Tony Hillerman’s Navajo Tribal Police mysteries, but with a sharp supernatural edge and an enduring love story.

"Men {and women} acquire a particular quality by constantly acting a particular way...you become just by performing just actions, temperate by performing temperate actions, brave by performing brave actions." ~ Aristotle

And I like to add:  a writer by writing. 

Join me at New Kids on the Writer’s Block for a look at naming the New Year and what it entails for me.

Werewolf in Manhattan ~ Vicki Lewis Thompson
Penguin Group: Signet (Eclipse) ~ Mass Market Paperback
RELEASE DATE: January 4, 2011


Reviewed for The Season. Click on hyperlink to visit the The Season blog for a chance to win a free copy.

Gold Coin Rating: 3.75
Heat: BONFIRE


“Wanting her was dangerous. She was not of his kind, and if she learned what he was, she could put the pack at risk. Yet desire waylaid him each time he caught her scent.”~ book excerpt

Emma Gavin writes about werewolves. Her novels are so close to the truth that they’ve garnered the attention of Aidan Wallace, werewolf extraordinaire. When a renegade werewolf sends suggestive messages with an underlying hint of violence, Aidan acts as Emma’s bodyguard to send a warning to the errant wolf with ties to Aidan’s family.

Things go awry when Emma incites Aidan’s mating urge. Aidan is betrothed to another by means of a treaty between packs. He can’t risk breaking the engagement for a joining with a human without jeopardizing the peace. Besides, Emma doesn’t know that he’s exactly what she’s been writing about.

Aidan captured my heart with his fierce loyalty, torn between his obligation to his pack and loving the woman who should be his mate, but cannot be. He’s indulgent and protective of Emma and clearly makes some decisions based on emotion rather than logic.

As for Emma, I didn’t fall in love with her character because she was a bit stereotypical-- an introverted writer with a love for chocolate and coffee, and not as dimensional or multifaceted as Aidan. However, Emma is spunky, quirky. Not much else in the way of personality, except for her sincere compassion for Aidan’s predicament.

A Werewolf in Manhattan is definitely Aidan’s story. His character is the one who grows and matures. There wasn’t much development in Emma. Her character remained static as the story progressed. I realize that generally only one character undergoes considerable change, but I would like to have seen Emma experience some transformation in her journey. After all, I would imagine that finding out werewolves are “real” would inspire some sort of character change since it challenges a belief system.

Despite my initial reservations about a romance writer heroine, this story was engaging enough that I forgot about my initial prejudices. And all though I longed for something more substantial from Emma, A Werewolf in Manhattan was an enjoyable, sometimes laugh out loud, comedic read.
I went through it in one sitting and was smiling when I reached The End.

NYT bestselling author, Vicki Lewis Thompson kicks off her new Wild About You series with A Werewolf in Manhattan’s debut. A snippet of what’s to come in the second installment was included in the ARC and of course I couldn’t resist the teaser. I’m happy to say that the series definitely appears promising.

I love the new year. It's a chance to leave the struggles, disappointments, and less than successful endeavors behind and start fresh. A clean slate with only the hopes, dreams, and expectations for the good things to come. Blessings to everyone for a healthy, happy, and harmonious year.


~kristal lee

Surfing the blogverse I came across a quiz link on Celtic Queens that asked "What's Your Celtic Name?" I stopped and wondered just what would be my Celtic name if I lived in those ancient days of gods and goddesses, magick and mystery. I proceeded to delve deeper into this curiosity. For research. Cough, cough.

In truth, I was procrastinating. Delaying jumping into the first draft of my new WIP, which is the second installment of a werewolf series and has nothing to do with Celtic culture, names or traditions. Still, one never knows what tidbits may be useful in the future.

The link at Celtic Queens directed me to appropriate page at Quizilla where I proceeded to answer the questions posed to me by the oracle spiritualkatana.

Lo and behold, according to the wisdom of the ancients, my Celtic name is Niamh [ˈniːəv]. When translated means brilliant or radiant. Hmmm, I think I rather like this name. <grin>


Somewhere in the recesses of my seriously over-loaded and sadly disorganized brain, I remembered the name Niamh. Not from a past life, but something I read. More procrastination ensued while I dug through volumes of books to find the few I'm looking for. My library, columns of books towering and teetering, stacked willy-nilly around my home office, is as orderly as the information in my noggin. After several minutes of searching, I lay my fingers upon the appropriate tomes.

Niamh-- Some legends claim she is the daughter of the King of Tir Na Og. Others call her the daughter of a Celtic sea god from the Isle of Man--Manannán. Whoa! Procrastination just turned into something useful. Manannán features prominently into the Faery Guardian Tales series I'm cultivating. Definitely need to bookmark these passages for future reference.

When Oisin reached Ireland he found all had changed. Man had become diminshed, somehow and the friends he'd known had long since passed. He watched in dismay as several men struggled to move a marble slab. Driven to assist them, he reached down from his horse to give a helping hand. Sadly, his saddle straps broke and he tumbled to the ground. When he stood, his young countenance transformed into a withered, blind old man. Never again did he find his way back to Niamh. 

Ironic that a romance writer be "given" the name of a woman who's own love story came to such a tragic end. Of course, in my imagination, I'm going to write them a happy ending. One day. After I stop procrastinating and get on with my current WIP.


So, what's your Celtic name? Visit the oracle at "What is Your Celtic Name?" and post the results in the comments.  I'm curious to know.

Today is Tooling through the Neighborhood. Join me over at New Kids on the Writer's Block for "Out with the Old~In with the New."

Native (South) Floridian and cold weather don't mesh. Seriously. I wear a sweater when the temperature drops below 72*.  Imagine my utter shock when I woke up yesterday morning to this:

Ok, so it's just a little frost. But, this was at 8:30am. It should've warmed up by then. Since it hadn't, I knew it was going to be a parka day. I don't even own a parka. Sigh!

Reuters/Lucas Jackson: Yahoo News

I'm so excited! My review of Master of Smoke by Angela Knight was featured on The Season blog. Click on the hyperlink for a chance to win a free copy of this new release.

MASTER OF SMOKE by Angela Knight.
Berkley/Penguin Group
Release Date: January 4, 2011

Gold Coin Rating: 4.1
Heat Level: Bonfire
{Click here for Tuesday's Treasures rating system guide}

Master of Smoke is smokin’ hot with fast moving, action-packed sequences and sizzling love scenes.

Eva Roman is a comic book geek coping with surviving a werewolf attack when she stumbles upon a shapeshifter in the throes of a similar assault. Upon rescuing him, she discovers that he’s lost his memory, except that he knows he’s been dreaming of her for weeks.

Eva decides to call him David, unaware that he’s a Sidhe warrior that shares his body and mind with two other entities, Cat and Smoke. David’s attacker, Warlock, is the leader of a fanatical werewolf aristocracy. He seeks Smoke’s magick and memories in order to destroy the Mageverse and rule the human Earth.

Eva risks her life to help David reunite with his spirit brothers and then must discover if she can love David for who he is in his entirety, rather than the fractured man she first met. For David, Eva is his heart and soul and he will fight the battle of his life to keep her safe and win her love.

Eva’s internal dialogue with her “Fluffy” werewolf self is hilarious and provides some needed comic relief during intense scenes.

David/Smoke’s struggle for Eva’s acceptance tugs at the heart. Before he’s reunited with his other selves, he ponders:

“Here he was, one fragment of some other man, waiting for the rest of his of his mind to return. Would he even exist once they came back?
Would he still love Eva?
David winced. And there it was: the trouble. What kind of idiot let himself become obsessed with a woman in a situation like this? All he was doing was setting himself up for more pain.”

After he’s made whole again, doubts still linger.

“But I’m still your David.” There was a trace of a question in the words. “Aren’t I?”
Eva stopped in her tracks to stare up at him.
That’s when it hit her just how much she’d been hurting him. Her refusal to accept Cat, her unconscious tendency to call him “David” even after his three personalities recombined—all of it had communicated a very ugly message.
“What have I done to you?” She asked the question in a low, shaking voice.”

Master of Smoke is the 10th book in the Mageverse series. I’ve not read the entire collection but I have read Master of Wolves, which is book 5. Based on what I learned in that story, I noted what seemed like a minor inconsistency in Master of Smoke regarding the relationship and interaction between the Direkind and the knights of the Mageverse. Since I’m reading the series out of sequence, it’s possible that this tiny issue exists only because I haven’t read all the books leading up to this particular story.

The weave of the Arthurian tales, werewolves, vampires, and the Sidhe, with our modern world is creative and ingenious. There is so much going on in this story that if you have a difficult time focusing you might get lost in the hustle. Some extended scenes made me a little impatient to get to the next sequence. But, I admire how Angela Knight is able to keep all those plot plates spinning and push the story forward in a credible paranormal fashion.

I wouldn't mind a little fire breathing dragon for Christmas :)

I love Julie Andrews. And during the holiday season, I'm reminded of my favorite song of hers...My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music. This year I personalized the lyrics to reflect my favorite things and I'd like to share them with you.
 

Today's post written for New Kids on the Writers Block blogunity. Click on over for a visit with us new kids.

Stuck for gift ideas this holiday season? For everyone on your Holiday list, there's a book sitting on a bookstore shelf waiting to be read.

Can't afford to give a loved one an all expense paid trip around the world? Present them with a hard copy of Around the World in 80 Days by Jules Verne.

Know an aspiring prima dona? Ballerina Dreams: A True Story by Lauren Thompson may be the stocking stuffer you need.

Married to a hockey fan? Slip a copy of Tough Guy: My Life on the Edge by Bob Probert under the tree.

No matter what subjects interest your family and friends, a book is the perfect present. And, if you're an aspiring author you'll be supporting the industry that will one day support you. So, while you're strategizing your mall run map out a route to your local bookseller. Give the gift of knowledge, adventure and imagination. Everyone will love you for it.

~kristal lee
Reposted from NKotWB

Twelve Wicked Nights ~ Nadia Aidan