Monday, December 1, 2014

Walking Dead and the Shark. Spoilers!

Anyone who knows me is aware that I take my TV VERY seriously. Like, I love my tv people more than most people I know. And so every now and again, something so egregious happens that I have to vent. So here we go. If you’re not up to speed on Walking Dead, don’t read on.
Beth is dead. Let’s talk jumping the shark. This is a tv term that is used to signal a major error in story telling. A plot gone wrong that fans go back to years later and say ‘that was the beginning of the end.’
The gimmick was Beth killing Dawn. The writer’s asked us to believe that Beth would kill Dawn. Would she? Is that her character? Looking back over the episodes I don’t think she would. Described by Daryl as the light, as the last hope and bright moral compass of the show, I don’t believe she would have tried to stab Dawn in the neck. It wasn’t her personality.
Because killing Dawn elevated the situation. It was tense, sure, but she crossed a line, (I suppose the same line that Carol crossed and got her kicked out of the group) she decided to take a life, for the benefit of her comrades, and put everybody else in jeopardy, escalating the situation.
She wouldn’t have done it.
My other grievance is the way it was done. Frankly, we’ve been waiting for Daryl and co. to find Beth for months. FOR MONTHS. And this is how the writer’s pay everyone back? Not well done. Frankly, I think that the fans clamoring for a Beth/Daryl relationship frightened the writers. Far easier to kill her then have to show Daryl be vulnerable and manly at the same time.
And by not giving fans the closure they wanted, but killing her so abruptly, they didn’t provide a pleasant viewing experience. I didn’t think this was the evolution of my favorites shows characters, I felt ripped off. This wasn’t a natural progression.
Part of the appeal of the Walking Dead is seeing the characters struggle. It’s the walls of darkness closing in, stealing the lightness and wondering where they will find the fortitude to continue on. But although we like to see the characters struggle, I don’t believe a show should do that to the viewer as well. What hope does the audience have now that Beth is gone? Who’s left to be the bright light? The weak pastor?
Puh-lease.
As soon as Beth died I was aware of where I was. My living room, just watching a show and something ridiculous had happened. I wasn’t with the gang in a crumbling, rotting world. I’d been thrown out by a brutal and ill-thought out act. How many different show-runners has Walking Dead had? Maybe it’s time for another. Because, honestly, that was some pretty disgusting and pathetic story-telling. For shame, Gimple and Kirkman. For shame.

The only hope is that the fans are so outraged that we get a Dallas moment and they rewrite it. Spend the money and man up AMC, write the character’s arcs as they should have been written. Because as of now, the shark has entered the building.  

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Bewitching the Werewolf 2

Yes, it looks like it's happening. BTW is getting a sequel. A novella that has been a lot of fun to write. Without spoilering too much, here is an excerpt (pre final edit so it could change!) of megan's next case! Whoo!


A half-eaten pack of Tums was sitting on my boss’ desk when I walked in. Papers were everywhere. The man is a genius with delegation, papers usually come in and go back out as if they have wings. The fact that his desk was covered in sheets of cheap white paper and post-it notes sent alarm bells ringing through me.
“You,” he gave me the finger point. “Who would’ve thought the day would come when I would be happy to see you?” he said, in total seriousness.
“Right back at you. I like the haircut. What’s up?” The man was bald and had been for twenty years, I only said it to piss him off. His eyes flicked to the chair across from him wanting me to sit. I didn’t. He sighed unhappily.
“There have been three abductions this week. The vampire queen didn’t get up from her coffin, they went to check on her and she wasn’t there. Just gone. No note, no ash, no nothing.”
“Huh,” I said. Cause that was unusual. Vampires didn’t travel without their coffins. From what I understood, it had more to do with comfort than necessity. Like a stuffed animal or a pillow except a coffin. How weird was that? It was one of the many reasons that it was a personal policy of mine to avoid vampires.
“The shifters have reported a missing were-hamster—”
Yeah, that’s right, were-hamster. “Did they check her wheel?” I asked, and thought I saw a curl of smoke rise from my boss’s forehead.
“And most importantly, the New York Guardian is gone.”
“You mean the librarian?”
“Of course I mean the librarian.” His teeth were clenched when he said it. 
The New York Guardian guarded all the spell books and histories for all the local Supes. Anything supernatural that someone might’ve wanted written down (or didn’t want written down but was interesting) was kept in her shop down on 45th Street. One could go in and get a coffee, a potion and a copy of what the Fey were up to during the 1800’s if one wanted. Although I don’t know why anybody would want Fey History, they were damned boring. Spent a lot of time tidying parks and making flower chains.
He pointed a sausage-like finger in my direction. I hated that frickin finger. “Start at the Guardian’s shop, do a recreation spell, see if you can get an image of what happened. This has to be solved fast. The vamps are blaming the weres, the weres are spoiling for a fight as always, and if we’re not careful the humans will get involved.”

And no one wanted that. Talk about up a creek without a paddle. The human police were next to useless. 

Saturday, May 24, 2014

A Lady Most Dangerous...is out

Want to know how it starts? I love this beginning. Poor Edward. He's such a great tortured hero. Here is the beginning of LMD....


Edward wondered if there was a certain comfort in that predictability – things didn’t change, events occurred every season and would go on until the day he died. And even then the events wouldn’t stop; he just wouldn’t be expected to attend anymore.
That was something at least.
The smell of pomade and starch was strong, the room overheated from all the candles and hot air as the guests prattled on and on about how dreadful the prior night’s musicale had been. Five young women trotted out before the ton so that they could display just how badly they played the pianoforte. It had been excruciating.
“And that’s the Duke of Somervale,” he heard a girlish voice whisper from somewhere to his left and above. There was a balcony there where people would have punch and look at the dancers.
And apparently gossip about him.
He couldn’t say why he just stood there and listened. He should have turned around and given them a glare or moved off and ignored them.... But he didn’t; for some reason he couldn’t define, he stayed and listened.
“My sister was ever so in love with him when she made her debut.”
“Which sister?” a female voice asked. Edward suspected he didn’t know her either.
“Anne.”
“Ooohh, what happened?”
Edward wracked his brain, trying to sort through recent debutantes he knew by the name of Anne. No one in particular came to mind.
“She met him. At the Winchester’s house party in Norfolk. Said she was so nervous she could barely say her own name. She said he’s different; that being next to him and talking to him, it’s terrible.”
“Terrible?” the other girl said, her tone fascinated.
Edward frowned. Terrible? He was terrible? The way they spoke, it was as though they were telling a naughty ghost story. Did that make him the ghost?
“Because he’s so handsome. It was like he was seeing into her soul. She said it was as though he knew she liked him.”
“Did he?” the other girl asked with a gasp.
Edward wanted to turn around and say ‘no, he didn’t’. Explain that, in fact, he had no idea who they were talking about. He went to the Winchester’s house party every year, and he couldn’t remember meeting somebody named Anne. And he certainly had not been gazing into her eyes soulfully. Whatever that meant.
“I doubt it.”
He was just getting ready to move off, deciding he didn’t need to hear any more gossip about himself and how another debutante thought herself half in love with him when she said, “Anyway, she doesn’t like him anymore. She said he was cold. Came across as unfeeling and that Katherine, that ice princess he’s engaged to could have him. They deserve each other. Now she’s obsessed with that banker, the Swiss one who’s been funding the prince and his escapades.”
And this gossiping stranger thought they deserved each other.
Edward spotted his fiancée on the dance floor dancing with some regimental hero, who’d undoubtedly done something very brave in some far-off land and come back with stories of killing natives armed with sticks. Very heroic[b1] , he thought with a scowl.
It would be his turn soon enough. When she looked at him, lifted her clear blue gaze from the man she was with and sought him out, it wasn’t to see if he disapproved or because she wanted to see him; it wasn’t because she couldn’t keep herself from looking at him because she cared for him. No, that would be…common. Vulgar, even. No, the reason his fiancée kept track of him was because she should.
When his dance came at the end of the evening, (and it was just one, sometimes two if she really wanted to show how ‘in love’ she was with him) she wanted to ensure he was where he was supposed to be. Not playing cards in the anteroom or drunk in a corner, but ready to squire her around the room for all to see.
Not that he ever did get drunk in corners or shirk his duty. But just in case. She didn’t trust anyone to do the correct thing except for herself. Just then, she flashed him a look, those arctic blue eyes colliding with his from across the room, ignoring the besotted man she danced with. Her new partner, the Earl of Chester, looked at Katherine as though she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
Edward supposed that was true. She was certainly the most graceful and beautiful woman in the room. His bride-to-be. Every doting mama told him how lucky he was; every man thumped him on the back and leered at her unpleasantly. Not only was she beautiful, she was rich as hell, blue-blooded as they came and the perfect choice for a duke.
And now, here he was, standing in a room full of people, watching them twirl around him and he suddenly felt sick, almost panicked at the idea that he was…here. Lucky enough to be alive when he dreaded today, tomorrow and every day into the future. Lucky enough to be alive when people who were better than him were dead.
Well, not people, just one—Helen. Was it a sign of just how awful he was that other people lived and died every day, hundreds of them, even thousands of them, and yet all he thought about was one? Just Helen. Who occupied his days with grief, and filled his nights with a desperate and peculiar sense of loneliness that was deeper than misguided lust.
Helen. She was unlucky. She was....
Edward looked down into his glass of champagne, watching the bubbles fizz to the surface. Bubbles rose. Dead bodies rose too sometimes. Although her body had never been found. An image of Helen on the last night he’d seen her came to him, replacing the world around him, overriding the noise and scents, the conversations and dancing, the happy people and even those who were here simply because they were expected to be.
For one pure moment, everything around him disappeared, and all he could see was Helen’s dead body floating to the surface of the water. The way it would move up, as if life and vitality had been holding her dozens of feet under, and when she gave that last breath, when she finally sucked in water and it exploded in her body and killed her, that, in his mind, was the moment she rose to the surface. Weightless, motionless, limbs relaxed, and dark hair spread around her like a cloud.
Was she still out there, floating in the water? The idea of it was so sharp that it pierced him. He felt the pain of it in his chest and stomach. It made his fingers clench and his breath exhale. The glass in his hand shook as his hand trembled.


This chick makes sense

Came across this video of Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love) discussing writing, success and failure. It's fascinating and inspirational for anyone, author or no author. Enjoy!

http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_success_failure_and_the_drive_to_keep_creating

Monday, March 10, 2014

I'm alive!

For anyone who has noticed a rather substantial gap between postings....I'm alive. You didn't notice, you say? Well, of course not, I'm prolific on blogging, facebooking and social media. Ahem.

As for what I've got going on...

RT in May. It's in New Orleans. Vampire central. I will be going to the Garden District and looking for Lestat. Everything vampire is set in New Orleans. Witches too. Off the top of my head...Kresley Cole's series is set there, Sookie visits, The Originals is there, Coven is there. The list goes on, I just ran out of head space.

I've also been working on a lot of different things and hope to have some of it out soon. A Lady Most Dangerous should be out by April 15. Hurray! There will be lots of giveaways, so if you have not signed up for the newsletter, let me direct your attention to the right of your screen :)

I've been reading a lot too. A Poison Study, Games of Command, Kate Pearce, Amy Lane...I'm all over the place and loving it!

Game of Thrones is coming back-- yeah and Walking Dead is almost over-- boo. Can't wait til friday-- Veronica Mars comes out and I will be there to see it! The show is available on netflix and is AWESOME. It's up there with Buffy. Yes, I said it. I met Jason Dohring at Comic-Con and he is so, so nice. I told him I was bummed things didn't take off for him. It looked promising with Moonlight. He seemed really happy about that and wrote that he loved me on my VM poster. Love you too, Jason. Love you too.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Glamorous as Fergie

Did you know that there are some people who think that writing is glamorous? So let me tell you about my glamorous day. Today was the first day back for my kids and boy was everybody excited. First there was a PTA meeting and then it turned out my daughter forgot her lunch. So my writing opportunity came at 1030, hours later that I had expected (grrr). 

When I got home I agonized over whether I should do laundry or cleanup the kitchen but decided to leave it so that I could try to get some words down. I could get some words down but nothing particularly exciting and I suspect it wasn't very good. 

Then I brought the kids home and discovered we had a WASP in the house. My husband was incommunicado and of course the wasp spray was nowhere where it should've been. I googled how to kill a WASP (hairspray or wd 40 but hadn't quite worked up the nerve to do it yet) and I called all my neighbors. 

Five minutes later my doorbell rang and I panicked, sure it was a neighbor who would want to help me but my kitchen was so messy that I couldn't let them in! Turned out it was grandpa who promptly picked up a flyswatter and killed the wasp Scream-style. By which I mean bumbling and with several misses but somehow managing to get the kill-shot. Isn't it glamorous?