CAULDRON Gets "Reviewer Top Pick"

From those wonderful chicklettes--Lisa, this time--at Night Owl Romance. She even complimented me on my writing skills! Hugzillas to Lisa and to Tammie King, the Queen Owl. Cauldron of Keridwen, the follow-up to my first Galdeshian fantasy, Wing and Tongue, is available from Ellora's Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419914362

Featured Author at The Romance Studio ~ Blue

That's what I am. Along with my recent Ellora's Cave fantasy Cauldron of Keridwen. You can check out the interview and all other attendant info by going here: http://http://www.theromancestudio.com/blue/who4.php .

A New Award for Wing and Tongue

My Ellora's Cave fantasy Wing and Tongue has won Night Owl Romance's winter 2008 Readers' Choice Award for Best Erotic Ebook Cover, fantasy category. Won by kind of a landslide, too, I might add. ;-) This same book was given a Reviewer Top Pick designation by N.O.R. (How can I not love these people?) By the way, their site is a treasure trove of romance-fiction news and reviews. And that's no bs. Props to Tammie King, the brilliant owner/administrator.

Click on the square button to view all covers in all categories.

Things I Miss From My Childhood

Normally I don't spend time reminiscing. There are plenty of current and future concerns to fill my dance card. But within the past week, as JLA and I were watching The Exorcist for the seventy-third time, I commented on Ellen Burstyn wearing a babushka in a couple of sequences.

"That's a scarf," he said, and even got rather snotty and dismissive about it. I reminded him we both grew up in Milwaukee, albeit on opposite sides of town, and if he knew his ass from page five about that city's immigrant history, he'd damned sure agree that Ms. Burstyn was wearing a babushka.

Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary gives these definitions: http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/babushka. By the way, it isn't just a Russian word. Poles often borrow it. Or at least my mother and aunts did. Anyway, I told JLA I missed wearing one and thought I'd just start doing so again. Babushkas are very versatile. They can serve as wardrobe accessories, protect your hair from the wind (or cover it if it's dirty), and keep your head and ears warm.

This got me thinking about other childhood pleasures I miss--profoundly, if I let myself dwell on them: eating kieshka in blissful, tastebud-delighted ignorance (if you know what this sausage is made from, you know what I mean); playing the jukebox in my parents' tavern; listening to late-night AM radio (and spinning a dial to do so); taking the bus downtown to spend entire days or evenings reveling in the city's wonders (the museum and central library, Lake Michigan's shore, the then-grungy riverfront, Gimbels department store, concerts and teen dance clubs and B-movies shown in grandiose theaters . . . ah, the list goes on).

The seasons, too, had more meaning then. Winter brought Christmases full of church and magic in equal measure, and ice skating on county park lagoons, and snow more welcomed than shunned. Spring saw the start of baseball season. Summer meant a week or two at a homey, musty cottage, sans indoor plumbing, that sat on forty crop-filled acres down a small, dusty road from the vast, blue lake. At home it meant playgrounds and parades and--glory be!--the state fair. Autumn was all about the feel and fragrance of leaf piles, and even more about Halloween.

Little did I know when I tuned in The Exorcist that it would trigger a whole chain-reaction's worth of memories . . . and the realization that we, as adults--so often on the move, so focused on the daily grind of "getting and spending", as Wordsworth put it--tend to lose sight of those people, places, and simple pleasures that went into the making of us.

So, long live babushkas! (Now I just have to find one that's winter-worthy. Hey, what a good excuse for hitting some resale shops!)

Check out a new interview with moi.

Author Selena Illyria has posted an interview with me, and info about my upcoming Changeling release Elevator Magic, at her blog:

http://darkicegoddessmusings.blogspot.com/2008/03/author-day-kz-snow.html

Truly, these are some of the strangest questions I've ever answered--not to mention some of the most revealing. It's taken me a while to realize how much I may have embarrassed myself!

No more whining? Or complaining?

Wouldn't it be luverly? A world without snarling and snarking, griping and gossiping? Even a world without pity parties?

The pastor of some church in Kansas City, Missouri (I think it's the one with the moon-sized Smiley hanging from the steeple) has decided that's exactly the kind of world he wants to live in. So he's brainwashed--uh, I mean persuaded his whole congregation to wear "complaint-free" spiked handcuffs--uh, I mean bracelets that are supposed to remind their gnarly asses to put on a happy face 24/7 . . . and an attitude to go with it.

Now, think about this bandwagon of psycho-emotional repression before you decide to jump on it (as thousands of people around the globe are doing, via an appalling--uh, astonishing effort to proselytize--uh, spread the good word). Just look at the past week of your life. Did any person or occurrence displease you . . . or royally piss you off? Did you feel an overwhelming need to vent about it before you destroyed something? Well, hell, of course you did! It's human nature's way. The mental health establishment as well as the laws of physics dictate that venting is necessary. Without it, all that internal simmering can lead to one big build-up of pressure. And then? POW, the lid blows off the pot. Even if it doesn't, whatever is inside turns to mush. Do you honestly relish the thought of holding it all in?

So I feel perfectly justified in bitching about the fascists over at MySpace who are disabling everybody's links, the snow that just keeps falling despite the fact it's almost April, and every asshat I have the misfortune to cross paths with. Because it's far better to do this once is a while:

than to end up doing this:

English food I hate; English food I love

"Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares"--oh, how I enjoy this verbal fuckapalooza when it isn't another rerun, which, alas, it usually is. Gordon does not mince words. No siree. But his sympathy, enthusiasm, forthrightness, and culinary acuity more than make up for his love of expletives. (Truth be told, I rather like his love of expletives.) He's kind of a hot s.o.b., too, in his own weathered, foul-mouthed way.

Anyway, this BBCA show got me thinking about my trip to Great Britain and how I effortlessly lost about ten pounds (not the monetary kind) while I was there. Why? Aside from the fact I did a lot of walking, the food generally sucked so bad, much of it was virtually inedible. Seriously. That's why the phrase English cuisine is generally uttered with a snort.

Here are the so-called "foods" I despised with every little twist my stomach was capable of making:

1.) Marmite. What the hell vicious misanthrope concocted this gag-worthy slop? I could not believe so many Brits shunned peanut butter and instead smeared their bread with fermented sorghum molasses smegma laced with low-grade petroleum products and ant poison.
2.) Lancashire hotpot. Uh...black pepper anyone? And more black pepper? And nothing but black pepper? I had this miserable excuse for a casserole in a Lancashire household, not a restaurant, so can only assume it was the real deal. Holy shit. Or rather, unholy shit.
3.) Mussels. Strove to chew these delightful nuggets on a seafood sampler tray in, I think, Blackpool. The next time I have a hankering for a mouthful of rubberbands with sand stuck to them, I'll just whip some up myself.
4.) Pub food. And I shiver as I type. The strangest sausages on God's green earth. (Do the English really hate the Germans so much they can't learn some sausage-making skills from their former enemies?) Equally weird sandwiches. UGHHHH.
5.) Curry. Any freakin' thing laced with freakin' curry. The smell alone makes me want to toss my innards. And that's NOT a smell you can easily get rid of. It clings like alien slime. I get the impression Brits are all about curry the way Americans are all about Mexican food. I'll take the Mexican food, thank you veddy much.

Now, there was an upside. Not a big one, sad to say. Certainly not big enough to make me gain weight. But there were some meals and foods I rather enjoyed.

1.) Roast beef & Yorkshire pudding. Yum. I had this in Yorkshire. For those of you who don't know, Yorkshire pudding is essentially what we call popovers. Done properly, this dish is delish.
2.) Fish & chips. Well...duh. That strange cider vinegar, or whatever kind of vinegar it is, took some getting used to. But you don't have to have it if you can't acquire a taste for it.
3.) Breakfast with fried red tomatoes. Oh yeah. Greasy fried eggs and greasy bacon and greasy fried tomatoes. I cook it to this day.
4.) Clotted cream. Beats the living snot out of me why this sinfully rich stuff isn't commonly available in the U.S. Just dump some over peach slices. Or your partner's body. Whoa. Fast track to blissful depravity.
5.) Silver-shred marmalade. Made from lemons. On the right toast? What a wonderful zing. With a cuppa Earl Grey? Even better.

Send in the dog sled!

The most recent addition to the Neverending Winter of 2007-08. Another foot of blizzard-driven snow fell yesterday on top of the eight or more feet we've already gotten this season. (Man, I can't wait until we retire, jump into our motorhome, and HEAD SOUTH.)

This is currently the view from our front door. Soon, there won't be a view. Another storm is due next weekend. See that hanging birdfeeder? There's a milk can standing at the base of the shepherd's crook. Somewhere.

This is the view from our back door. That's a deck railing. The white stuff is even with it.

Cabin fever skyrockets as county snow-removal budgets plunge.

Thank God for computers!

Valentine's Day Print Anthology Now Available!

Candy Cravings, along with its companion volume, Candy Caresses, is the hot box of melted chocolates most people get only in their Valentine's Day dreams. But now Ellora's Cave can help you indulge all your secret pleasures. Both books are available IN PRINT...and with covers demure enough to allow you to cop a read wherever you damned well please. Both also contain a wide and, um, satisfying variety of stories.

You can order your copy of Candy Cravings here: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-3913-candy-cravings.aspx?skinid=11

Oooo, enjoying one of these decadent bonbons before bedtime will give you very sweet dreams indeed.

Author Conundrum - Titles

I do like that word: conundrum. I also like circumbendibus and egregious and a whole lot of other words my editor thinks I shouldn't use because readers are put off by them. It's sad, really, that Americans have such resentment toward their own language that they'd like to pare it down to dumbass email shorthand devoid of both precision and nuance. EFFDAT! Slap me for being a fossil, but, I repeat, EFFDAT.

The richness of our language is one of the few riches in which we can all partake...for free. (Maybe if we were charged per syllable for word usage, we'd appreciate language more. Maybe cost would give language the same kind of cachet sports cars and designer clothing/accessories/perfume have. But what a crock of unadulterated shit that would be, ain'a?)

Anyway, back to my first author conundrum. Titles, believe it or not, can cause us great angst. We know our books will never stand the test of time--hell, will barely last a handful of years, if that, in people's minds--but we still agonize over titles.

Here's what I mean. Say you're a writer (maybe you are) and a great title comes into your mind before the actual book is written. So, do you write the story around it or just write the story and change the title if you must? Another scenario: What if you love a title because it's tres appropriate, not to mention clever, but, because of its length, it will only appear in a small font on the book's cover...and will squeeze your name into smallness, too? Or what do you do if you think readers won't "get it"? Do you opt for short, generic and cutsie?

Two great movies in one week!

I'm not always here to hype books. Honest. Right now I'm between books. I have a whole batch of edits coming up, and I have a work in progress. So I've needed a break. One of the ways I take a break is by reading. Another is by watching movies.

I'm what my mother would have called a "fuss-budget" when it comes to movies. I'm very particular. To get lost in a movie, I need good acting based on a good script interpreted through good direction. I love drama, comedy, horror, fantasy...as long as it comforms to my criteria. Most of the films on my favorites list date back some years. Even decades. Many people haven't heard of them. It isn't often I come across one I find truly captivating, in every sense, and want to see again and again.

This past week, I came upon two. Now mind you, my S.O. and I are too cheap to go to theaters. We wait for stuff to show up on PPV. I'm willing to shell out $3.99 to watch something that's caught my interest via trailers and reviews. Usually, I end up more or less liking it. Sometimes, I end up feeling disappointed. Rarely, I end up frothing with enthusiasm. This week I "frothed" over my PPV choice as well as a made-for-tv movie.

The Illusionist...wow! Not a brilliant film--not a Midnight Cowboy or Taxi Driver--but utterly enchanting. I won't go into the atmospheric score, setting, cinematography; I won't effuse over Edward Norton's acting. I adored them all. But I was particularly caught up by the deft shading of expert trickery with genuine, incomprehensible magic and the resulting guessing game that was never resolved. I think I watched the movie three times in a row (thank goodness for those All Day Tickets!) Made me wonder when and how and why the natural--in this case, manifested as adroit illusion--crosses over into the supernatural.

Then, tonight, we happened upon Margaret Atwood's The Robber Bride on the Oxygen network. Kudos to them for taking on this story! No beautiful people, no standard romance, no predictable plot with well defined moral parameters. The movie (and the novel, I suspect, although I haven't yet read it) had no hero and no heroine. How utterly refreshing! Again, appearance constantly warred with reality. This examination of "normal" human nature subjected to a bizarre "extreme" of human nature, and the resulting alchemical transformations, was absorbing.

If you can, try to see these two cinematic delights. I'm still kind of reeling (no pun) from both of them.