The Blog Chain: FEAR

This week's topic was started by the vivacious Kat who asked,

What are the primary fears that drive your characters? Do they battle aliens of gangsters or monsters? Or do they battle unreconciled issues in their lives? Which do you prefer writing about? What do you fear?

My fear can be summed up in one word: ICE.





Those ain't no photobucket stock pics.

That. Was. My. Car.
(Station wagon, actually. But who can tell?)

In 2002 I was traveling along I-40 in St. Louis and coming up to the old Bush Stadium. It was beginning to sleet so I slowed my pace. The interstate arched upwards and at the top of the hill I was surprised to see that the cars below were at a standstill. I tapped on my brakes and while my car fish-tailed I was able to come to a safe stop.

Then I looked in my rearview mirror. Even at a glance I could tell the guy flying over the hill would be unable to stop.

He didn't.

And neither did the eighteen cars after him.

I walked away from this accident with 30 staples in my head, a concussion, and lots of bumps and bruises. (Incidentally, when your Mom warns you to wear clean underwear - heed her! I told the paramedics my leg hurt and my pants were cut off faster than you can say, 'Yes, I wear granny-panties, what of it!')

Because of this accident I've had an eight-year prescription of anxiety relieving drugs and I. Do. Not. Drive. On. Ice. Sometimes, if I close my eyes I can still hear the whine of twisting metal - feel the warmth of the blood as it trickles down my face.

But this wasn't my first brush with death. I almost drowned at sailing camp. I was in a tornado. My brain swelled so severely from a horseback riding accident they nearly drilled a hole in my head. The last incident I prefer to keep private. In honor of these occasions I have a tattoo of a black cat with the words "nine lives" drawn overhead. Underneath I have five tally marks. (The poor kitty deserves his own tally mark as he did not fare so well during my pregnancy - his location is on my abdomen.)

Because of this I'd like to think that I can express fear in my writing in a way that others may not. I know what it feels like to stare down the end of a barrel. Your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out all other sound. The tingling of adrenaline as it races along your skin on insect legs. The thickness of your throat when you're trying to scream, yet the sound won't come. So, while my fears can sometimes get the better of me, I can take some joy in the fact that these heart pounding experiences only served to benefit my writing.

So how about you? What experiences have you had, good/bad, that have changed your writing?

Please check out the astounding Shaun who posted two days ago, and the awe-inspiring Rebecca who will post later today because I am, once again, a slacker.

:)

Life lessons learned from my stripper roommate...

So I'm going a little off topic today because my last post generated such interest. Specifically, my experience living with a stripper. If you didn't read my last post the details are this:

When I was 17-years-old and a senior in high school I moved out on my own. My guidance counselor was a saint and enlisted me in the work-study program which allowed me to leave classes at lunch so I could work full time at the local Cracker Barrel. One of my classmates said that her cousin was looking for a roommate and the price was CHEAP! I thought I had it made...

...until I found out she was a stripper.

**Disclaimer**
Please note the following list is composed by my experience with this particular stripper. I realize that not all strippers are the same and some have hearts of gold - as demonstrated by Julia Roberts and Demi Moore.

So without further adieu,

LIFE LESSONS LEARNED FROM MY STRIPPER ROOMMATE

1. Personal Hygiene is optional.
2. There is NO such thing as Too Much Information.
3. Never leave the house without a good smearing of white eye-liner.
4. Glitter - It's not just for 12-year-olds!
5. You don't have to ask if they're real - they never are.
6. If you don't break you neck when you fall then the heels aren't high enough.
7. While your reason for stripping is justifiable (insert sob story here) everyone else that does it is a skank.
8. The proper position for entering any room is to cover your eyes and shout, "Are you decent?"
9. If people can't tell how cold you are with a glance, then your clothes aren't tight enough.
10. Who needs dieting and exercise? The secret to a slim sexy body? Lemme just say it's illegal...
11. If you come home and can hear giggling through the front door - Leave! Do not pass go, do not stop to collect $200, get the sam heck out of there!

And there you have it. If anyone else has any nightmare roommate stories I'd love to hear them!

It's Blog Chain Time! Life's a Journey not a Destination...

Great...now I'm going to have Aerosmith's Amazing running through my mind ALL Day.

This chain was brought to you by Sandra who asked:

What kind of journeys do your characters make? What effects do they have on the characters and the plot? Also, if you wish, please tell us about one of your personal journeys and how it changed you.

In my young adult paranormal novel, KATANA, the only journey that my MC, seventeen-year-old Rileigh Martin, makes is internal. Before she discovered that she harbored the spirit of a 15th century samurai warrior she mostly floated through life with no real goals other than to get into a college next to a beach. When the spirit tries to take her over, Rileigh must decide what's worth saving - her past or a life she never had a chance to live.

Anywho, the idea to write this story came to me while I was studying tae kwon do - something I started when I was 26-years-old. Why start something so late in life? You see, I'm currently on my own journey of self exploration. My childhood was, shall we say, not good. There was a person in my house who got a real kick out of telling me that I was terrible at everything I tried and that I'd never amount to anything but a truck stop waitress.

I left home at seventeen, worked out a deal with high school so I could leave early to work at the local Cracker Barrel, roomed with a stripper for a year (oh the stories I could tell), graduated high school with honors, dated a minor league hockey player, moved to STL, joined a band (be thankful it broke up), worked full time in retail while achieving my associates (community college holla!), got my degree from the world famous Tom Rose dog training academy, got married, got divorced (it's okay, we're cool), and finally, finally, finally, married the man of my dreams at the same time found my niche (It only took 29 years).

But now I've found myself in this weird position. Instead of living with someone who tells me, "You can't, you can't, you can't!" I'm now told, "You can! You can! You can!" So I'm trying things I'd never dared to try before. Writing was the first, followed by sewing classes, then martial arts, then guitar classes...the list goes on.

There are still sometimes that I find myself jealous over those who had it easy. The kids who were supported, who got to go away to college without having to work (or live with a stripper - excuse me, exotic dancer). But then, I realize, if I hadn't done those things I wouldn't be where I am today. Each and every step I've taken on my journey has led me to today. This moment. These words I'm typing.

So...what was the question again? Kidding. The moral is this: Be thankful for the path you've traveled including the spills and stumbles along the way. That is what brought you to today.

So how about you? How has your life's journey brought you to the place you are in?

Please check out the hillarious Shaun who posted before me and the stunning shampoo-free Rebecca who will post today because I'm a slacker and ran late.