I came down with bronchitis over the weekend (even had to go the hospital---yikes!) and haven't been able to post the way I intended to. Now that I'm home, I am still recovering, but wanted to remind everyone that we've only got about 2 weeks left on our Kickstarter campaign. If you've been thinking about donating, and you're starting to think about holiday gifts, consider the Kickstart Tu auction, especially for the writer or book lover in your life. They've got all sorts of great stuff, including handcrafted mugs, made-to-order crocheted Alice in Wonderland dolls, a FULL YEAR of advertising on YA (& Kids!) Books Central, out-of-print children's books and a folklore pack, and writing critiques and line edits. Oh, and don't forget the giant box of manga for that manga and anime lover in your life! I plan to add some D&D and Star Wars minis later this week, and if you're a Brandon Sanderson, Jim Hines, or Howard Tayler fan, you've got the chance to get a Garden Ninja Studios customized mini from the Mistborn, Goblin Quest, or Schlock Mercenary worlds.

In addition to winning an auction, you'll also get the rewards from the Kickstarter level at which you donate---for more on how the auction works, check out the rules here.

The auction ends Dec. 9th, to make sure that the donations to the Kickstarter have enough time to go through.

If you don't have money, but do have something you'd like to donate to the auction, please feel free. And either way, please spread the word among your friends and family---we've only got a few days left, and a long way to go!

Thanks for all your support! With your help, we'll be able to get up and running!

Originally published at Stacy Whitman\\\\\\\'s Grimoire.

I'm sure y'all have guessed what a visual writer I am—while music engages all of my senses, having something visual as a touchstone can really help me illustrate the finer points. (Like last week and the lipstick cases) Other times, however, it serves as the jumping off point for something completely unexpected.

Which brings me to today's Tuesday Teaser

The images:




The teaser, from Between Here & Gone

"Why Las Vegas?"

"Because that's where she always goes first." He spared me a glance as he shifted and accelerated past a large produce truck, the speed and deftness of the move making my breath catch as effectively as the alien landscape that unfurled before us as we broke free of the shadow of the truck. A seemingly endless sweep interrupted only by the occasional gnarled scrubby tree and washed in shades of gold and brown, this desert struck me with the same sense of unease as the urban jungle of New York. Extraordinary, but not particularly comfortable or welcoming.

In a matter of moments, the snorting, backfiring truck was reduced to a dot in the sideview mirror, leaving us alone on the highway with only the growl of the car's engine and the rush of the wind as accompaniment. Both more than adequate excuses for avoiding further conversation which I would have expected Jack to take advantage of. But he surprised me, sending another sidelong glance my direction, accompanied by a soft, resigned laugh.

"The wheels in that head of yours—they're going fast and furious, aren't they?"

"I—" Aggravated at the transparency I couldn't seem to help around this man, I looked away, resolutely focusing my attention on the scenery and the surprisingly abundant wildlife, from the lizards lazily watching from the side of the road to long-eared rabbits dashing alongside the car, as if in a race. Above us, a lone bird flew, its wingspan majestic as it soared gracefully through the gilt-edged sky. Fascinated, I watched, catching a flash of red feathers as it suddenly tucked its wings against its side and executed a terrifying dive toward the desert floor. A moment later, it swooped back into view with a triumphant cry, hapless prey squirming futilely within the grasp of its claws. Feeling an eerie sense of kinship with the victim, I shuddered and turned my attention back to Jack, who wore an enigmatic half-smile as if he knew precisely what was going through my mind.

"I have to admit, it's fascinating to watch the wheels turn. I wonder if maybe that's why I don't offer everything up right off the bat."

"I suspect it's more that you're not accustomed to being held accountable to anyone else."

This is my dear friend, Johanna, with whom I have been friends since I was in college and she was in high school. She's a member of Who fandom and a costumer and a lot of you probably know her from around the internets or the convention scene.

Her husband, Alex, is dying. Pretty much, right now.

He's been fighting cancer for years, and as you can imagine, their funds are pretty much exhausted. They've moved in with family, and times have been hard.

Jo is asking for financial help to cover the funeral expenses.

You know, if you can chip in, it would be--well, not nice. Nothing about this is nice. But it would be a worthy and charitable thing to do.

Her paypal address is johanna_mead@yahoo.com.

In today's Code Green comic, global warming is proven a hoax to those who always knew it was: http://ping.fm/xCj2l

Today's comic: Bunnista riles up the humans in their natural habitat, Gertrude's Sports Bar: http://ping.fm/pwDRJ

It's the day before Thanksgiving, and my heart is filled with gratitude. My life hasn't always been easy, but as I enter the nail salon, I'm counting my blessings.

I browse the rainbow assortment of polishes, choosing a lighter shade to complement my fair skin. And when I’m notified that my manicurist is late, I settle into a plush chair with the latest issue of People, flip-flopped feet barely skimming the floor.

An older woman walks into the salon, tall and elegantly dressed. She grabs a bottle of polish in a deeper shade--a perfect match for her deep brown skin--and then glances at her watch. “I guess I’m early,” she says.

I smile up at her, sweeping my handbag off the chair next to me. “Here, have a seat.”

She perches on the edge, stiletto-clad feet crossed at the ankles. “I’m Mary,” she says, in a drawl that stretches her vowels from here to tomorrow.

I'm curious about her accent, a honey-sweet mixture of Southern and SoCal. “Where are you from?” I ask, and she tells me she’s from Chapel Hill, Tennessee.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in the South.”

She gives a polite, noncommittal nod, and the conversation drifts into silence. Side by side, we flip through glossy magazines, waiting for our appointments. But the minutes are dragging, and the articles uninspiring, so I try to revive our conversation. “Did you ever go to tent meetings?”

She smiles broadly, as if she’s seeing me anew. “Oh honey, we lived and breathed tent revivals where I come from!” Then she groans. “Those sermons would go on for hours. I’d start thinking about Sunday supper and my stomach would get to growlin’—"

I interrupt her mid-sentence. “Let me guess the menu,” I say. “You served fried chicken—or maybe catfish. Skillet cornbread with lots of butter…”

She nods. “Mmm hmm. And okra. Or collard greens with pork.”

“And banana pudding with ‘nilla wafers—”

She slaps my knee. “Or red velvet cake with homemade ice cream! Nothing better than that in the whole wide world, now is there?”

By then, our stomachs are carrying on their own conversation. “Seems like we must've sat at the same table,” she says.

“I believe we did, Mary. I believe we did." She eyes me quizzically. "I guess I should have mentioned this earlier," I say. "I’m a tent evangelist's daughter.”

“You?” She searches my face, maybe to see if I’m jesting.

“Yes, me.” I lock eyes with her, slow down my words so she can really hear what I have to say next. “Thank you, Mary. I owe my life to generous people like you.”

She shakes her head slowly. "Well, I’ll be," she says, and I can tell she needs time for the words to really register.

She slips her hand into mine, ebony and ivory intertwined. And then we sit quietly, side by side, allowing our souls to speak the words we cannot.

Finally I break the silence. “So—would you ever have guessed it?”

“Not in a million years," she says, "Not in a million years.”

Your Tuesday moment of zen.



Walking in the hospital, last Thursday. © 2009 M. Lake, all rights reserved.

Today I must:

make shepherd's pie
make carrot cake cupcakes
package up books for mailing
do lurking paperwork
work on "The Unicorn Evils"
record podcast of "The Horrid Glory of Its Wings" for Tor.com
record podcast of "Knock on Coffins" for Shadow Unit? (Probably not, but maybe sometime soon)
take dog for walk
clean basement
put away dry laundry
hang up washed laundry
wash unwashed laundry
feed shoggoth and start bread
eat breakfast
yoga

...that's probably enough things.

Yeah, I got up at 6 am and that's all I have done. (Actually, it's not, there was dog outs and showering and doing dishes and finding the recording equipment and stuff in there too.)

Breakfast was my Sobas Inautententicos, which is to say, soba noodles in Swanson chicken broth with whatever veggies are kicking around the fridge (pearl onions, tomato, green peas) and garlic, ginger, chili pepper, lime, soy sauce, and a little Thai roasted red chili paste. Inauthentic. But delicious.

Tea today is Upton Vanilla. Teacup is The Songbird Neighborhood Watch.

As calendula_witch continues to so ably document, most recently here, I am at home recovering, I seem to be able to handle a small amont of Twitter, but blogging and email are bot very tough for me right now under the influence of opiates. But as I am up in the middle of the night with the dosage transition itchies, I thought I'd send my love out to the Intarwebs on this week of uncharacteristic post-surgical silence.

Y'all have been wonderful.

I stole this idea from Greg Pincus who, back in April of this year, gave us 30 Poets in 30 Days for National Poetry Month. Every day, for 30 days, he highlighted a different poet and by the end of the month I had a great many new poets to follow. What a great idea!

When I was trying to think of what kind of gift I could give my blog readers the holiday season I thought I could introduce them to some blog they might not know about but that I think are worth checking out. So I introduce the first (for me) of 31 Blogs (You Might Not Know) in 31 Days. Every day in December I will post a little teaser about a blog that perhaps isn't as well known as some of the other blogs we tend to frequent. There will be writers and poets and maybe an illustrator or two. I hope you enjoy the journey.


Many of you are already familiar with author/illustrator Teri Sloat's beautiful picture books (I'm a Duck, There Was an Old Man Who Painted the Sky, and many more) and her exquisite art. What you might not know is that she is a brand-new blogger.

Her blog, Painting the Sky is all about her creative journey. A couple of my favorite posts are Julie and Julia and the Invisibile Audience where she talks about the lessons she took away from the movie Julie and Julia and Walking Through a Story where she talks about her love of creation stories.

Say hello from me when you stop by.

I'm posting this for a friend, Toni Buzzeo, who is a children's author living in the rural Maine town of Buxton. Each year, Buxton Toy Box registers financially challenged families and children in these families receive Christmas gifts through the program. Toni is the book fairy who ensures that all of these children (birth through 18) receive books! Toni is looking for author copies of any of your books or audiobooks you might want to donate. She will gladly reimburse your postage! (No ARCS, please.)

Please contact Toni at tonibuzzeo@tonibuzzeo.com

Thanks!