Category: Uncategorized

I”ll be road-trippin’ with the girls to the San Diego Head to Toe Women’s Expo on Friday, Nov. 10th. If you happen to be in town, you don’t want to miss this expo (even if you can’t come see me)! Starting Friday the 10th and running through Sunday the 12th, it’s a day of pampering, shopping, cuisine and more, just for us girls.

But if you want to see me (hint hint!) I’ll be on the Style Stage at 1:30 p.m. with a booksigning to follow.

And because I love you, I have twenty free passes. If you want a pair for you and your best gal pal, email me so I can get them in the mail.

For all the details go here.

I tagged Sonia Singh last week thinking she had a blog, but alas, she doesn’t. So she’s now the very first Chica Lit guest blogger!

5 (Really REALLY) Interesting Things About Me
by Sonia Singh

1. When I was an infant I was dropped on my head. Thankfully, I suffered no lasting damage. Thankfully, I suffered no lasting damage. Wait. I’m getting a sense of déjà vu here.

2. I lived in Bombay, India for two years trying to break into the Indian film industry (Bollywood) as a screenwriter. Never mind that I didn’t have any contacts and couldn’t speak a word of Hindi to save my life. Seemed like a fun idea at the time. Although now I look back and wonder what possessed me to drop everything and move to the land of tigers and Taj Mahals. Maybe it had something to do with being dropped on my head?

3. I support the environment but also drive an SUV. I suppose the fact that I’m a walking contradiction could be due to my being dropped on the head as an infant, or perhaps because I live in the OC. The SUVs roam free around here like cattle.

4. When I was working as a bookseller at Borders Books & Music, I received a phone request to page a customer on a busy Saturday afternoon. The customer’s name? Hugh G. Reksion. [Sound it out] I paged the customer several times before my manager leapt across the information desk and grabbed the phone out of my hand. What was that supposed to mean? I was confused about where I went wrong (and my mind wandered off to things like performance review). It was only then that I noticed the startled looks of customers. And yes, I do watch The Simpsons. What can I say? When you’ve been dropped on your head as an infant…

5. I dropped out of High School for three weeks my senior year. My parents were in Europe and I was alone except for an older cousin who would sleep over at night and leave for work very early. One morning I woke up and didn’t feel like going to school and since there was no one to make me go…Not surprisingly, I didn’t feel like going the next day either or the day after that. So, yes, I am a High School dropout. Any surprise? My head dropped, okay?

Sonia’s next release, Ghost, Interrupted is coming out January 2007. She is the author of Bollywood Confidential and Goddess for Hire. Her website is www.soniasingh.com.

I don’t believe that life ends when we die. I think some of us stay behind to make sure our loved ones are okay; or poke back in to see what’s going on. And certainly there are many other reasons why spirits linger but the point of this blog is to focus on the positive aspects of being a ghost because on the Day of the Dead, we remember our loved ones who are no longer a phone call away. I’d like to tell you about the ghost I grew up with.

Her name is Mary and she and her husband built my mom and dad’s house after World War II. My parents were 20 years old when they bought it for $19,000 in 1973. Mom was more than six months pregnant with me when they moved in. Eventhough grass and weeds grew up through the floorboards and there were bullet holes through some of the walls – the previous tenants had a run in with the police – Mom said it felt like the house welcomed them.

As Mom and Dad settled into the house, they started hearing voices from the hallway. Dad would be out back and hear mom holler, “Mike!” He’d run inside only to find that she hadn’t called him, or that she wasn’t even home. One night Dad woke up from a sound sleep to see a woman standing at the foot of the bed. When he got up, she was gone.

When I was three, my mom found me talking in someone in her closet. I told her how I met the nicest lady whose name was Mary and who had a daughter named, Mary Anne. By that time my mom knew the story of the previous owners and my invisible friend wasn’t my imagination.

One day Robert went to work and died of a massive heart attack. His widow, Mary, was stricken with grief. The neighbors told my mom that she would scream his name in the middle of the night. One morning her son found her dead from an overdose in the master bedroom.

The only encounter I can clearly remember of my nice lady friend is when my mom had to help our neighbor. (I think she fell down.) Mom locked me and my then baby brother in the master bedroom with the TV. A lady opened the door and told me that she could no longer visit with me. But she would always watch over us and protect us.

When I was in high school, our ghost started acting up by slamming doors, turning lights on and off and even touching us. So I did some research and found out where she was buried. We took flowers and there was a photo of her and her husband on the gravestone. The woman who came to me in the bedroom when I was a little girl, was the same woman in the photo.

There are lots of other stories I could tell you about Mary, but it would take all day and I can hear my Little Dude waking up from a nap.

Oh wait, there’s one quick story about my Great Grandma. She died 21 years ago this past Saturday. One night when the Little Dude was really little, he had a tough time going to sleep and I was beyond exhausted. I remember trying to rock him to sleep but he wouldn’t stop crying. Crying myself, I said, “Grandma, please help me.” The room got really warm and just like that, the Little Dude settled down into a deep sleep. I know she was there with me that night and every now and then I can feel her with me; especially when the Little Dude is pushing my buttons and I’m holding onto my patience with both hands!

Now I really have to run but I like the celebrate Day of the Dead by remembering my loved and remembering they’re always with me.

Six years ago Ryan and I honeymooned in Salem, MA. I dressed up as a scary doll and he was Freddy Kruger (sigh). You should’ve seen the look on the line of women in the ladies’ room! I don’t think any of my costumes have frightened more people than the scary doll. As soon as I can, I’ll find and post a picture.

Anyway, my honeymoon was the most romantic week of my life. It confirmed that I’d found the one person who wouldn’t think I was weird for wanting to take a moonlit walk through a cemetary, or go traipsing through a haunted house or watch a scary movie through the narrow spaces between my fingers. The night before Halloween we walked to The Lobster Shanty for dinner in the pattering rain. As we walked by the cemetary, I sighed and tucked my arm through his and said, “I’m so happy I found you.”

Six year later, I feel the same way.

Turns out that I was tagged by Erica Orloff and didn’t know it until now when Dana told me. I was always It because I’d space out on the playground and then get, well, tagged. You know, we really never change.

Okay, so the deal is to write five interesting or unique things about me. Here we go:

1. I grew up in a haunted house
2. I went to Salem, MA for my honeymoon
3. My little girl pug is named after Picasso’s mistress and Paloma Picasso’s mother, Francoise Gilot
4. When I was in the underground bath in Bath, England, I looked up and saw a Roman officer walk up a set of stone steps. My mom remembers me going on pause and then suddenly turning to her to ask, “did you just see that?” I’ve never been a heavy drinker or drug user in case you’re wondering
5. Oh and while we’re on the subject of ghosts, I was once in the Whaley House with my mom and we looked into the children’s room to see a rocking chair start moving. The rooms are sealed off by glass partitions and the windows are bolted shut. (Cue in eerie music)

Whew. I now tag:

Alyson Noel
The Writer’s Vibe
Jennifer Apodaca
Jenna Petersen
Sonia Singh

Much good news to share. First, my novel, Switchcraft has been formally accepted by my publisher. What this means is that I get paid and my publisher likes it enough not to ask for their money back. Remember when that happened to Joan Collins?

Second, my interview with Nancy Marmolejo, founder of the award winning Comadre Coaching, is now posted on her podcast. I listened to it yesterday and realized I need to do something about all the “ums” I use in interviews and presentations before my gig at the San Diego Head to Toe event on November 10th.

Sorry but that’s all I’ve got for today. I finished the first draft of act I of my WIP and now I’m slowly torturing myself to death by drafting a synopsis.

Mary

A few months ago when I was at the Catalina Magazine party in L.A., I met a really cool woman who is a marketing guru and pug mommy. Whenever I talk to someone whose first language is Spanish, I know that sooner or later they’re going to hate me. Or, pity me. Frankly, I don’t know which one is worse.

No matter what we’re talking about – cuisine, travel, books, people we work with – the conversation always boils down to The Question: “¿Hablas español?” I try to draw out the moment before I answer. There is a friendship at stake. But then I must answer no and the light in their eyes switches off and the conversation, no matter how engaging it had been, is over.

But this woman threw me for a loop. Her reply was, “Oh. So anyway, do you want to see a picture of my baby?”

I was fully prepared with my apology and explanation my mom had been advised to stop speaking Spanish to me by my first grade teacher, etc. But she didn’t care, didn’t judge. It was a momentous moment!

And still, I’ve thought about it on and off ever since until today when I started this entry. Spanish whispers to me from my subconscious because I can pick up the gist of a conversation or a song. But it is rooted in my soul. When I hear the guitarron or the chorus of Volver Volver, my soul stirs even though I had to read the English translation to fully understand the words.

But do you want to know the craziest thing? My Little Dude loves mariachi! I played Guadalajara for him and he went nuts, bouncing up and down while clapping his hands and screaming. (He can’t quite pull off a grito, but give him time.)

If Mariachi can excite a fourteen month-old who – if you want to get technical about it – is half Mexican, a quarter Irish and an eighth German and an eighth Hungarian; then perhaps the spirit of Spanish is stronger than actual words. It is the umbilical cord that connects us to the revolutionaries, the conquistadors, the Aztecs and the Mayans; it is rooted in and thrives from the soul.

Am I a broken link in that history just because I rely on my trusty, Making Friends in Mexico to understand Spanish? Are my stories, my son a discontinuation of these people?

Nope. Nada de eso.

(Translation: Not at all.)

In a sincere, elegant voice, Author Gabrielle Zevin creates an extraordinary story about the life that continues after we die. I’m so excited having found this book that I can’t describe it without gushing, so I stole this from the author’s website:

Elsewhere is where fifteen-year-old Liz Hall ends up, after she has died. It is a place so like Earth, yet completely different. Here Liz will age backward from the day of her death until she becomes a baby again and returns to earth. But Liz wants to turn sixteen, get her driver’s license, fall in love, go to college . . . How can she let go of the only life she has ever known and embrace a new one? Is it possible to grow up while getting younger?

Okay, I’m back and I just realized something. The last time I blogged about a book, it was Erica Orloff’s Do They Wear High Heels in Heaven? I’m not obsessed with death. In fact these novels aren’t really about death; they are about life and love.

Anyway, I do read and enjoy other books. But these stories lit the fire in me; they made me forget all the things I know about writing (not that I’m a Shaolin master of writing or anything, but you know what I mean) and just fall into the story. I even teared up at the end and gave the Little Dude a kiss.

I’m tellin’ ya man, some of the best writing is happening in young adult. If you’re looking for something fresh and thought provoking, get this book.

If it wasn’t for this six-sided Ms. Manicure nail file and buffer, I would never keep my ass down at my desk. When I hit a wall in the writing, or my characters chicken out and won’t go down those dark places where the emotions are raw and dripping, I reach for my nail file rather than leave my computer. Not only do I work my way around the wall, or work up the courage to venture into the dark places, my nails look fabulous!

Oh and then I discovered Ulta Spa Renewal Hand Rescue Cream. If you want to treat yourself, Ulta is having a sale!

So what practical magic do you use to stay in your seat?

Mary

If it wasn’t for this six-sided Ms. Manicure nail file and buffer, I would never keep my ass down at my desk. When I hit a wall in the writing, or my characters chicken out and won’t go down those dark places where the emotions are raw and dripping, I reach for my nail file rather than leave my computer. Not only do I work my way around the wall, or work up the courage to venture into the dark places, my nails look fabulous!

Oh and then I discovered Ulta Spa Renewal Hand Rescue Cream. If you want to treat yourself, Ulta is having a sale!

So what practical magic do you use to stay in your seat?

Mary