November 20, 2013
I’ve had a new book release last week (Slow Ride Home), which means I’ve been writing copious numbers of blog posts as I try to garner some interest in it. Trying to come up with 25 posts or more about the same subject, making a book of which I am inordinately proud sound interesting because each post is slightly different, can be draining, to say the least.
When I realized it was my turn to blog here, my brain went on strike and shut down. So I’m going to borrow a meme that was going around Facebook earlier this week, or maybe it was last week — the days are all blending together. The meme was to share X number of things about yourself that others might not know. Normally someone tagged you and gave you a number, but that isn’t possible here, so since it’s the eleventh month, I’m going to arbitrarily choose the number 11. Here goes:
1. Although I was asked to sing solos when I was kid, something happened when I was a teenager and I cannot carry tune in a cast iron bucket nowadays. Seriously. You do not want to hear me singing. Even with industrial strength earplugs.
2. The first book I remember reading was a children’s storybook involving Laplanders. I read it over and over and over again (see #3 for further explanation) I wish I could remember the name but that’s all I remember, other than my mother groaning and saying “Not that one again. The library has thousands of books; why don’t you choose something new?”
3. If I find a book I really love I read it then re-read it and re-read it again, sometimes 3 or 4 times in the same week, and then numerous times every year after that. Don’t ask how many times I’ve read Lover Eternal by JR Ward or any of Patricia Briggs’ novels (yes, all of her Mercy Thompson or Alpha and Omega books.)
4. I can’t listen to audio books. I really really want to, but I find my brain treats the audiobook like it’s background music and shuts it out and it may be hours before I realize it’s still playing and I’ve missed everything.
5. My husband and sons say that I had a tape recorder in my head that queues up their conversations and plays them back when I have time to pay attention. What they mean is that they’ll ask me a question and I won’t answer because I’m concentrating so hard, and then 20 minutes later or maybe an hour later, I’ll suddenly turn to them and answer their question like there’s been no time pass. Usually they’ve forgotten what they asked by then. For some reason this automated internal queueing system doesn’t record/play back the audio books though.
6. I’m terrified of elevators. Closed in ones I can handle to about ten floors. Over that and I really need someone to hold my hand—someone who isn’t afraid to have their metacarpals broken when I squeeze too tight. Glass elevators? Can you say basket case? Seriously—I freak out. So if you met some woman who insisted on standing right close to the doors in the RWA hotel in New York back in 2011, and HAD to place her hand on the steel panel — that was me. Sorry. But it was the only way I could deal with those damned elevators. (Don’t ask what happened to me the time we got stuck in one between floors and the damned thing started bouncing.) Yes, I will go in them, if I really really really have to. It all started thanks to a book I read when I was about 9 — Arthur Hailey’s Hotel, in which an elevator’s cable snaps, its brakes fail and the thing tips on its side and opens, spilling everyone in it to the shaft then lands on top of them. I already had a vivid imagination, but damn it Hailey described it so well, I’ve not been able to shake that fear. Fair Warning: If the hotel in New Orleans has glass elevators and you see me heading toward yours? Wear chain maille gloves if you have to get in one with me. And why the heck don’t hotels offer people an option by having at least one closed in elevator? They have to realize there are people who will freak out. Like me.
7. I’ve spent so much time at my computer this year without enough breaks that I’ve done damage to my right rotator cuff, which means I’m having to pretend to be left handed until it heals. Hint: get up and move around regularly so it doesn’t happen to you.
8. I can’t stand flannel sheets.
9. I used to hate beets as a kid but now I love them.
10. I rarely wear make-up and when I do, I feel like a fraud and that I’m wearing a mask. It doesn’t help that eye make-up annoys my eyes–even if they claim it won’t irritate sensitive eyes–so all the work spent on making my eyes look good simply makes them look like I’ve been bawling for hours.
11. I have a weird thing for numbers — I prefer even numbers to odd, and I clock-watch to see patterns like 1:23, or 2:34, or 11:11 or 12:21. Choosing 11 — an UNEVEN number — as the number of items here and not changing it to an even number is making me very unhappy. I have no idea when it started or why, but there you go.
And if I WAS going to give into my inclinations and round it off to an even number, this is what I’d post:
12. I had a new contemporary western come out last Monday. It’s called Slow Ride Home. I won’t beg you to click on the link to read more about it. Or provide you with a buy link and beg you to buy it. Because you’ve already clicked on the link. Right? No–seriously. Why are you still here?
But I didn’t, I stuck with eleven revelations. Honest. Unless you happened to highlight that blank spot. 😉