Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Torn & Frayed


                                                                                       
So much has happened in the last few hours. I wanted to write everything down because I may not remember all these feelings later.

First, I couldn’t decide on ‘Happy’ or ‘Torn & Frayed’. Since I was torn--so to speak--over the title for this blog, that made the decision. Oh, for any of you that aren’t Rolling Stones fans, Exile on Main Street is one of the best albums of all time. No offense intended to any of my great musician friends--I believe it’s the best rock and roll album of all time. It’s the inspiration for Exile on Peachtree Street. All my blogs are titles of the songs on Exile on Main Street.

Any of you that know me or follow my blog know that I started writing my book because I suffered a severe Achilles tendon tear which required extensive surgery. My Achilles tendon has been rebuilt. I have been in a leg cast and immobile for months. The doctor ended the pain pills long ago. How to get through the pain?
Well, write a book of course. I can’t walk, I can’t drink and until a few weeks ago I couldn’t even fuck, so might as well let my imagination run wild, right? You have to come up with some way to pass the time of day. You can’t just sit around, as the old saying goes. The other old saying is the idle mind is the playground of the devil. Both sayings are appropriate, considering the circumstances.

Off I go on the book writing journey, armed only with an idea, the book’s title and two characters. The book was completed last week and here’s what happened in the last few hours. Yesterday I connected with my badass editors. I like their style. They ripped Fables from one end of hell to the other. I’m totally cool with it, as long as it makes my creation as entertaining as possible for the readers. Both editors get the plot and the characters. I trust them. The manic rewrite has begun.

Good news followed by more good news. Earlier today the surgeon took me out of a leg cast. The shock of seeing a twelve inch scar from my ankle up my calf will never leave my mind. The doctor calls it my racing stripe. I really is cooler than having a tattoo, because you gotta be one tough bitch to get a scar like mine. The good news you ask?  I walked today for the first time in months. I don’t consider myself an emotional person. Today I cried tears of sheer joy. Sure, I’m in a walking cast and on crutches, but who really cares? I am back on my feet. Oh no, another cliché although it is appropriate.

The doctor encouraged me to go out.

“Go out?” I say, “As in go out to dinner or for a few drinks?”

“Yes, go out.”

Those three words set me free.

My sweet partner wants to go to a posh wine bar and enjoy a romantic dinner. That sounds nice but we’ve been trapped together for months. You know what sounds like heaven? There’s a guitar bar in Midtown Atlanta. It’s my favorite place in town because it reminds me of Nashville. On Friday nights you can show up, bring your guitar and have a $2 beer. It’s loud, noisy and I can’t wait. I’ve been away much too long. Oh, all the sexual mischief I can get into, now that I'm free. I'm inspired.

Another saying we have here is good things happen in three’s. Join the sexy and talented Kharisma Rhayne as she interviews me today at www.kharismarhyne.com.

Just as long as the guitar plays
Let it steal your heart away     Jagger/Richards

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Tumbling Dice

Good morning, it has been a while. I have missed you. My book is in final edits and will be released soon, very soon. That is taking most of my time and that is why I haven't been blogging.

I have been sharing Facebook, Twitter, blogs and now Pinterest with you so that anyone who wants to have a peek inside the world of indie publishing can join me as I have written 'Fables of the Reconstruction'. It has been an interesting journey. I have made some great friends and discovered that the indie writer world is not that different from the world of indie music. However there are artistic differences.

Where indie music may have alcohol and drugs, indie writers appear to have alcohol, prescription drugs and children--a dangerous combination indeed. Where musicians have a duality of nature, one of which is the guy or girl next door and the other which takes the stage to become our rockstars, indie writers develop a series of personas, depending on which genre of writing they are exploring.

Writers are entertaining beyond belief! I have laughed until crying, cried uncontrollably at the suffering of loss experienced by another person, and watched fights breakout, all based on verbiage! It is fascinating! Most writers seems to get their ideas from tapping into a great cosmic unknown. It's as one writer explained, the story was given to her by the universe and she was allowed to write it. We tap into a vein of creativity, much like a miner finds a gold vein or a junkie finds a vein for their fix.  On a personal level 'Fables' is based on a dream I had and as the book unfolded, the characters and plot developed on a subconscious level. Completely remarkable!

Then, there are the psychics or empaths. We apparently have to have guides to assist in what we are experiencing as the psychics come into play to explain what we have created and why. Some amazing empaths have crossed my path this week. One lady knew exactly what my writing habits are, and even knew insights into my personal life, which I never reveal. I have been fortunate enough to connect with a Voodoo madame. I have had a gentleman post on my book's page and outline why I am going to hell. (As I was schooled in strict Baptist schools, this is not the first time I have heard it.) All this bodes well for 'Fables', I do believe. The last two months have played out before my eyes like a Fellini film and I love it! In a past life, most writers must have been circus performers and we understand that the show must go on, as long as we document the experience.

As for 'Fables of the Reconstruction', I am beginning the marketing strategy now. The beautiful and talented Kharisma Rhayne, owner of No Boundaries Press will be interviewing me--my virgin interview--on Tuesday, October 2nd. Check us out at www.KharismaRhayne.com.

Fortunately, as a first time author, I have over 10 interviews scheduled in the next few weeks. A publication is picking up the story of 'Fables of the Reconstruction' in mid October. I have been invited by one of Atlanta's top magazines to be one of the Most Beautiful People in Atlanta. It's all very exciting, but more than saying something about me, it speaks of the new power of the indie writer. The indie writer is the new pioneer of the artistic world.

As for "Fables of the Reconstruction', I am beginning to have Hemingway moments. It seems that Hemingway agonized over his books every time he turned one in to be published. Not that I am in any respect on the Hemingway level--far, far from it! Just like he always did, I now believe I have written the worst book every written. But, you know what? I wrote a book. I am now an author. Not everyone can say that. I feel brave and crazy, all at the same time. Some people will like 'Fables', others won't.

It's all a roll of the dice baby, a roll of the dice...


Thursday, September 6, 2012

Let It Loose...Bedroom Blues




"Take the shine right off your shoes....Carryin' the bedroom blues..." Jagger/Richards

It had to happen one day. My male 'muse', my inspiration, and my partner in sexual adventure and I have decided to go our separate ways. My mind is still reeling from the aftershocks. However, it is something we both know has to be done. Everyone has to grow up at some point in their lives. Even though we have been lovers twenty years or so, losing him has left me shattered. We live different lives, in different cities but we have always had a physical connection that neither of us has been able to ignore. Not that either of us ever really wanted to ignore it. We have to give each other up because Peter is a dad now and I have a partner as well. We don't want anyone to get hurt.

I met Peter 20 some odd years ago. I can't tell you his occupation or what he looks like, but I will let you know we met in a hotel bar. When he walked in the room my body had a physical reaction. Everyone in our group was celebrating his engagement, even though it was the first time I had met him. As the night went on everyone left. Peter and I remained at the bar. Nothing was said until I looked at him and said, 'If you will break your engagement for one hour, you will never regret it.' His response? 'Let's go.'

As soon as the elevator doors closed and we found ourselves alone, we couldn't take our hands off each other. If elevators have a group equivalent to The Mile High Club, I am now a member. That wasn't enough. Peter and I had sex in the mezzanine lobby outside the elevator before we made it to his room. We still aren't certain how we managed that, unless the guys working the security cameras were just completely shocked and mesmerized. 

Peter always said we didn't have a physical attraction to each other, we had a chemical reaction to each other. I was completely in love with him but he explained that it was only sex. Only sex. That was why merely hearing your lover's voice made your body weak with desire. We have an addiction to each other. We were lovers, sexual confidants and we were our own secret. Everyone needs a secret.

Peter did get married the year after we met. The day after he returned from his honeymoon he called me and we met each other for a night of sex. We only saw each other occasionally but the passion, the desire for each other has always remained. Once, I was in Amsterdam visiting my then fiancé. As fate would have it, Peter was in town as well. My fiancé and I had just returned to my hotel room following dinner. There was a knock on the door. It was Peter. I would tell you what happened next, but you'll just have to read the book one day. There are so many other escapades to relate to you, but I would rather not think about them right now.

I have never liked to say good-bye, I prefer to say see you later. But now I have to say good-bye to my favorite libertine and my fellow sexual adventurer. My muse is free. I wish him light, love and happiness always. Everything that ends is only the beginning of something new. Our interlude is like everything in life--the ending always happens too soon.

After Peter and I talked on the phone this morning I have looked for many different ways to distract myself. I've written this blog, played with my various social media outlets, watched three Jack White videos, wrote a magazine article and took one look at my latest zombie creation . The Jack White segment of the day did make me feel better, I have to admit.

In one month I have had my accident, ankle surgery and now this. Everything happens in cycles of three so my life seems to be on cycle, changing as the seasons change. Another chapter will open soon.

Peter and I did agree it would be nice to see each other one more time. I'll let you know what happens...