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A Steampunk Night Before Christmas
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
‘Twas the night before Christmas and the whole ship was quiet,
Too quiet for the likes of this seasoned air pirate.
The airship was festooned with frippery and green,
With nary a brass polished surface to be seen.
Their stocking were hung by the crow’s nest with pride,
Along with homemade cookies and rum for Santa to imbibe.
I didn’t have the heart to tell the crew.
That Santa wouldn’t approve of what we do.
Sure, we stole from the rich, and gave to the needy.
But he’d probably think taking a cut was too greedy.
It didn’t matter that they had hearts of gold,
Only that it was stolen goods we bought and sold.
Suddenly portside there arose such a clatter,
That I grabbed my spyglass to see what was the matter.
The deck became filled with curious crew,
As I climbed the rigging for a better view.
The sky that had moments before been silent,
Had erupted with a commotion both grievous and violent.
The black ship portside was one that even we dread,
And it looked as if it were attacking a small red sled,
Driven by a fat guy and flying brown deer,
I polished the spyglass to ensure my vision was clear.
“Dread Pirate Fred’s attacking Santa, let’s help him, quick,”
Shouted my trusty first mate old Salty Nick.
What could I do but help out the sled,
“Come on, crew, let’s teach a lesson to Fred.”
I climbed down the rigging.
“There are cannons to load,
Christmas to save,
And pirates to goad.
Let’s kick up our speed,
And give up a fight.
Even we know
Robbing Santa just isn’t right.”
With a cheer, I manned the helm, going full speed ahead,
Nick loading our cannons to aim at the Dread Pirate Fred.
“Don’t worry Santa, help will arrive,
Salty Nick, man the cannons, prepare to take a dive.”
We flew through the air quickly, with all our might,
Fred’s crew had the sleigh on board, a terrible sight
Santa looked frightened, a gun to his head,
“Give me those presents,” growled the Dread Pirate Fred.
Even the reindeer had been rendered immobile,
By a few of Fred’s men in a black dirigible.
Santa shook his head, “If you take them, they will be missed.
Certainly, you all shall make my permanent naughty list.”
“I don’t care,” the pirate growled,
“We just want those gifts,” his crew avowed.
“Unhand those presents,” I called, dashing through the air
The cannons fired, aimed only to scare.
The reindeer bucked, trying to get free,
Fred sneered, “Captain Sno, you don’t scare me.”
Quickly, we secured Fred’s ship and dastardly crew,
But Fred still had Santa—there was only one thing to do.
Fred and I grappled across the deck, precariously,
Nick making sure Santa and the reindeer went free,
“You can’t rob Santa, it’s just not right,”
I yelled as I punched Fred when he put up a fight.
“Now, now, cease that,” Santa said,
Causing me to stop punching Dread Fred.
“Now Dread Pirate Fred, trying to steal presents in wrong,
but Captain Sno, punching him won’t stop him for long.
Christmas is about sharing and caring, not fighting and stealing,
and doing what’s right, not wheeling and dealing.”
Fred and I looked at each other, hanging our heads in shame.
The jolly old man had a good handle on our game.
Both crews made sure the gifts all went back
Into Santa’s giant red velvet sack.
Cook fed the reindeer carrots, and Santa cherry pie
I looked at the Dread Pirate Fred and gave a sigh.
“Why did you do that? That’s low even for you,
to attack Santa and take his presents on Christmas Eve, too.”
“Those presents would fetch prices that are sky high.”
But the look on Fred’s face told me that was a lie.
“There are better ways of getting a present from Santa’s sack,
then trapping the reindeer and staging an attack.”
“You’re one to talk,” Fred replied.
Nodding slowing, I looked at my crew, and again I sighed.
“I’m afraid, Santa, neither Fred nor I have been good this year,
but please, don’t forget our crew, they could use some cheer.
They don’t meant to be bad; they’re just following orders
They’re good men at heart, not drunkards and cavorters.”
Santa said, “Thank you captain, for rescuing me,
I think I my sleigh might hold an extra present or three.
You too,” he added to Dread Pirate Fred.
I shook my head. Was that what he actually said?
“Fred and his crew tried to steal your gifts to sell,
now you’re giving them presents as if all were well?”
Santa winked. “Now, Sno, remember what Christmas is all about.”
Getting in his sleigh, he gave his reindeer a shout.
“Just try to stay off the naughty list, the both of you, from now on.
Now, I have to be off, to get these delivered before dawn.”
Both crews looked up, as Santa took off.
“Merry Christmas, Santa,” my voice went soft.
With a wink of his eye, and a flick of his hand,
Presents flew out of his sleigh; onto the deck they did land.
“Thank you, Santa,” the crews did shout.
“There’s not one for me,” Dread Fred did pout.
“All I’ve ever wanted is a present from Santa, just one.”
I scoffed. “But not enough to stop having all your plundering fun.”
“Stop it you two,” Santa added with a call.
“But I didn’t forget you either, no, not at all.”
Two more presents floated down from the sky.
Turning mine over in my hands I looked up. “But why?”
Santa just smiled. “Just remember what I said.
And for once, Sno, can you stop plaguing Fred?”
With a hearty laugh, the sled flew through the sky,
Both crews waving, tears in their eyes.
“A present for me?” Fred’s eyes gleamed.
I knew deep down, he wasn’t as dreadful as he seemed.
Taking a box from my pocket, I said, “And there’s another.”
Giving it to him, I smiled. “Merry Christmas, brother.
I’m sorry I plague you, but it’s so much fun.
Let’s make next year a much better one.”
Nodding, Fred said, “For once, Sno, you’re right.
I think this should be the last time we fight.”
Santa sped by, doing one last turn.
“I hope there’s a lesson tonight you all learned.
Merry Christmas to you, and remember my lads,
no one says air pirates have to be bad.”
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
But what *is* Steampunk
I thought for sure I posted this before, but I can't find it, so here it is again...
Steampunk is a term that there’s been quite a bit of buzz about. But, what is exactly Steampunk?
Steampunkers party like it’s 1899. (It's also what happens when Goths discover the color brown, lol.) Steampunk is set in a world where steam and natural gas, not coal and electricity is still the primary power source. It’s a world abounding with airships, gas lamps, gears, cogs, and brass goggles and populated with mad scientists, philosophers, adventurists, and air pirates. HG Wells and Jules Vernon are huge inspirations for Steampunk. Examples include League of Extraordinary Gentleman, Stardust, Treasure Planet, and the Golden Compass.
Even though there’s a heavy Victorian influence and feel to Steampunk, there could still be extraordinary technology all done with Victorian materials and in Victorian styles. There can even be Steampunk airships, space ships, computers, and brass robots. Technology may have simply evolved differently--or maybe a natural (or unnatural disaster) caused society to "regress,” though Steampunk stories traditionally lack the dystopian/anarchist elements that cyberpunk has.
Steampunk stories can be set in the past, in the future, or on another planet. They can be alternate histories, mysteries with hard-boiled detectives or cozy Victorian ladies, they can be gothic, or horror, or sweet romance. They can be bodice rippers, erotic, or completely "tame." Steampunk stories can even feature the supernatural or paranormal elements.
It's in the setting, the language, the gadgets, and the characters--who could speak like Victorian ladies or fast-talking American teenagers. With Steampunk, there's really a great opportunity to be creative and make amazing worlds ranging from gritty to opulent. Its basis is Victorian in nature, but it's also fiction so you can do incredible and imaginative things. Are you ready to write?
Steampunk is a term that there’s been quite a bit of buzz about. But, what is exactly Steampunk?
Steampunkers party like it’s 1899. (It's also what happens when Goths discover the color brown, lol.) Steampunk is set in a world where steam and natural gas, not coal and electricity is still the primary power source. It’s a world abounding with airships, gas lamps, gears, cogs, and brass goggles and populated with mad scientists, philosophers, adventurists, and air pirates. HG Wells and Jules Vernon are huge inspirations for Steampunk. Examples include League of Extraordinary Gentleman, Stardust, Treasure Planet, and the Golden Compass.
Even though there’s a heavy Victorian influence and feel to Steampunk, there could still be extraordinary technology all done with Victorian materials and in Victorian styles. There can even be Steampunk airships, space ships, computers, and brass robots. Technology may have simply evolved differently--or maybe a natural (or unnatural disaster) caused society to "regress,” though Steampunk stories traditionally lack the dystopian/anarchist elements that cyberpunk has.
Steampunk stories can be set in the past, in the future, or on another planet. They can be alternate histories, mysteries with hard-boiled detectives or cozy Victorian ladies, they can be gothic, or horror, or sweet romance. They can be bodice rippers, erotic, or completely "tame." Steampunk stories can even feature the supernatural or paranormal elements.
It's in the setting, the language, the gadgets, and the characters--who could speak like Victorian ladies or fast-talking American teenagers. With Steampunk, there's really a great opportunity to be creative and make amazing worlds ranging from gritty to opulent. Its basis is Victorian in nature, but it's also fiction so you can do incredible and imaginative things. Are you ready to write?
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Twelve Days of Steampunk Christmas
On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
12 Air Pirates
11 Painted Ladies
10 Clock Hands
9 Ray Guns
8 Pairs Brass Goggles
7 Aviator Caps
6 Cogs and Gears
5 Mad Scientists
4 Flying Cars
3 Top Hats
2 Dirigibles
And an Airship in a Pear Tree
12 Air Pirates
11 Painted Ladies
10 Clock Hands
9 Ray Guns
8 Pairs Brass Goggles
7 Aviator Caps
6 Cogs and Gears
5 Mad Scientists
4 Flying Cars
3 Top Hats
2 Dirigibles
And an Airship in a Pear Tree
Monday, November 30, 2009
Whew!
This month I wrote 65k in order to finish a manuscript for the Golden Heart Awards. It's currently in a box, on the way to Texas.
I started late in the month (about the 12th) so I was writing at a break neck pace (3-5k a day). But really, it's not that bad. For NaNo, which is only 50k, that's less than 1700 words a day--easy. A 70k novel would be less than 2400 words a day. Even a whopping 100k novel could be written in about 3400 words a day.
It's not that hard.
It's about pacing. After two weeks of 3-5k, I was exhausted. But 1-2k with the occasional 3-5+ is pretty comfortable for me. Just like a runner, you have to find your pace and set your goals accordingly.
It's also about motivation. I *had* to get this manuscript finished, otherwise they're be consequences. But there were a few times where I was ready to give up.
But I didn't, and it was partially because I leaned on my writing friends for support. Writ ting can be lonely, solitary. It's nice to connect with other writers who understand, who can cheer you on, and help you brainstorm (or discuss recipies, movies, and parenting.)
I'm lucky because one of my RWA chapters has a chatroom where writers meet to do "writing sprints" (write as much as you can for a set period of time). Writing sprints are helpful to me because I'm a little competitive and it's usually the jump start I need--also during breaks we chat, which also is something I sometimes need--to know I'm not alone and not the only person who wants to kill her characters off because they're being stupid.
Another one of my chapters had a NaNo email loop where we posted counts, cheered, cried, and met on instant messenger for more writing sprints. Last night I stayed online with someone until she hit her 50k. She, too, started late in the game. And she, too, had to do it, and she did.
I'm also lucky because I have a loving hubby and an understanding tot who support me in my writing with love, hugs, chocolate, and BBQ night.
We all can do it. Baby steps. The point is not to give up entirely--because if you do, you'll never know if you could have done it if you'd only pressed on.
I started late in the month (about the 12th) so I was writing at a break neck pace (3-5k a day). But really, it's not that bad. For NaNo, which is only 50k, that's less than 1700 words a day--easy. A 70k novel would be less than 2400 words a day. Even a whopping 100k novel could be written in about 3400 words a day.
It's not that hard.
It's about pacing. After two weeks of 3-5k, I was exhausted. But 1-2k with the occasional 3-5+ is pretty comfortable for me. Just like a runner, you have to find your pace and set your goals accordingly.
It's also about motivation. I *had* to get this manuscript finished, otherwise they're be consequences. But there were a few times where I was ready to give up.
But I didn't, and it was partially because I leaned on my writing friends for support. Writ ting can be lonely, solitary. It's nice to connect with other writers who understand, who can cheer you on, and help you brainstorm (or discuss recipies, movies, and parenting.)
I'm lucky because one of my RWA chapters has a chatroom where writers meet to do "writing sprints" (write as much as you can for a set period of time). Writing sprints are helpful to me because I'm a little competitive and it's usually the jump start I need--also during breaks we chat, which also is something I sometimes need--to know I'm not alone and not the only person who wants to kill her characters off because they're being stupid.
Another one of my chapters had a NaNo email loop where we posted counts, cheered, cried, and met on instant messenger for more writing sprints. Last night I stayed online with someone until she hit her 50k. She, too, started late in the game. And she, too, had to do it, and she did.
I'm also lucky because I have a loving hubby and an understanding tot who support me in my writing with love, hugs, chocolate, and BBQ night.
We all can do it. Baby steps. The point is not to give up entirely--because if you do, you'll never know if you could have done it if you'd only pressed on.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Flash Fiction--The First Thanksgiving
Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I know I have alot to be greatful for and I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday. Don't forget to save room for pie.
The First Thanksgiving
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
“Come on, Little Bit, time to wake up.” The musical voice with the Irish lilt attempted roused me from my sleep.
“Umff.” I pulled the covers over my head. I liked to sleep. It was too early. Even without looking at the clock I knew it was early. Half-past the ass-crack of dawn to be exact. My head pounded. Last night, as usual, we’d gone out to the part. There had been shots, darts, and…
I groaned. There had been drunken karaoke and table dancing. Knowing my friends, they took pictures.
“It’s a long drive to Boston, and I promised to help Lilly cook—come on.” Amber pulled the blankets back, then put her hands on her hips.
“Why?” I missed Lilly but couldn’t we leave later?
“Because it’s your first Thanksgiving and Miss Obsessive Homemaker wants it to be special.” She grinned lopsidedly. “Ray’s coming down from DC and Charlie’s already there.”
With a groan I got up and showered. When I came out, Amber was dressed and packing up. We were on tour, Amber was a rock star opening for a rock band filled with really fun people. Well, they weren’t exactly people. The leads were Faeries. Amber was half Siren. I wasn’t exactly normal either.
“Coffee’s on the table.” She balled something up and threw it in her suitcase. I cringed. Last night I’d packed all my things up neatly.
No sooner had I sat down with my steaming hotel mug of strong black coffee when David, lead singer for the BoGo’s the hottest hard rock band in America opened the door.
“Am, we need to go.” He looked at the room and frowned. Amber’s stuff was everywhere—well, on her side of the room.
She sighed. “I know. Oh, Lilly wants us to bring two bottles of rum and another bag of cranberries.”
“Ding-dongs?” I took another sip of coffee.
David’s blond eyebrow rose. “Rory, you don’t have ding-dongs on Thanksgiving.”
“Why?” Everything was better with ding-dongs. Or beer and wings.
Amber shrugged. “I don’t exactly know, but I’m sure Lilly will object. It’s an American holiday.”
David started helping her pack. “Turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, pie…those are all traditional foods.”
“Why?” I didn’t really understand Thanksgiving. Growing up on the farm it involved shooting turkeys and a lot of eating, but I never got to eat any. It had smelled good.
“To eat way too much of Lilly’s home cooking.” Amber grinned. Lilly was a really good cook.
“Come on,” Amber slung her guitar over her shoulder. “Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Lilly.”
#
“No, Rory, the water has to be cold. Like ice cold.” Rushing over, Lilly took the measuring cup away from me. She, Amber, and I were in the kitchen making pie. I was lousy at cooking.
“Okay, I’ll go watch football.” Why did the guys get to watch football and I had to cook? I hated cooking. Lilly wouldn’t even let me have a snack. My stomach growled.
“No, you’re going to help.” The tiny sorceress put her hands on her hips.
Sighing, I put ice cubes in the water. “Better?”
“Yes.”
While her back was tuned, I tried to steal a piece of the turkey she’d just taken out of the oven to rest. Why did a cooked turkey need a nap? It was dead.
“Rory!”
Her voice startled me and awaked old memories, starting a habitual reaction we had yet to totally undo, even after all these months. I cowered, backing straight into Amber. A bowl hit the ground, shattering, and pumpkin batter went everywhere.
“Rory!” Lilly’s face fell. My body went slack.
“I…I’m sorry, Lilly. I’ll clean it up.” I liked to clean.
With a heavy sigh she took a tea towel and handed it to Amber who was now covered in pumpkin. “It’s okay. Dinner will be ready in an hour, why don’t you go watch football with the guys.”
Nodding, I cleaned up, then went into the living room, taking a seat on the back of the couch, not wanting to actually squish onto it—I didn’t like to touch people.
“Exiled all ready?” David grinned. Ooh, the Patriots were on. My favorite.
Ray shook his head. He was Lilly’s boyfriend. He was also my housemate when I wasn’t on tour. “I’m surprised she lasted this long.”
I’d broken several microwaves and an oven at Ray’s.
We watched the game and the apartment continued to fill with delicious smells as the sun went down. My stomach growled again, but the only food on the table was a tray of raw vegetables. I’d rather eat cardboard. At least there was beer.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.” Charlie grinned, walking into the room.
I waved. “Hi Charlie.”
“Hey, Little Bit.” Charlie was a smooth-talking, Cajun Vampire. “How’s tour.”
I threw him a beer and he took a seat opposite Carl, David’s twin. “Do you want to play darts after the game? Or are you still banned from Keone’s?”
Keone’s was the only SuNat—Supernatural—bar in the area. “Darts? Football?” He put his hands up in mock despair. “I thought you people were supposed to be teaching her about life.”
David shrugged, taking a sip of beer. “Football is life.”
“Here here,” Carl added. “We’ve taught her other stuff.”
“Yes,” Charlie shook his head. “I heard about Karaoke.” But he was grinning. “They have Karaoke at Keone’s.”
“You are not going to the bar on Thanksgiving.” Lilly stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “It’s Rory’s first Thanksgiving. It should be perfect.”
“Actually, I’m having fun, Lilly.” Cooking aside. But I’d like some food now.
Lilly shook her head and went back to the kitchen muttering about rum balls. We’d forgotten the rum.
“What is Thanksgiving again, Ray?” He was the only actual American in the room.
“It’s a day of football games and turkey, I told you that,” Carl teased.
Ray settled back into the couch. “The first people who came here were the pilgrims…”
His words became blah, blah, blah as he got academic and used words I didn’t know. I didn’t have a large vocabulary, but on the farm so one expected me to say much.
“And so that’s why we celebrate thanksgiving.” Ray smiled.
I smiled and nodded like I always did when I didn’t really understand.
“The short version is that we celebrate the fact that the pilgrims nearly starved by over eating,” Charlie added.
“Okay.” That was better than Carl’s story about it being a holiday made up by the aliens who were fattening us up for their holiday feast.
“You guys,” Lilly sighed. Flour streaked her face and cheery turkey apron. She had a mitt on one hand. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Lilly, it’s fine.” Ray got up and kissed her on the cheek. “You did good, hon.” He wiped the flour off her nose, making her giggle.
“But there’s no rum balls.” She pouted.
“Thanksgivings not about rum balls,” he teased as we walked into the dining room, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“I know.” She nodded. “I’m just glad you were all able to make it. But I did want it to be perfect.”
My eyes went widened as I saw all the food on the table. “That’s all for us?”
Lilly nodded. “I hope it’s enough.”
Amber shoved her playfully. “It is, now sit.”
We did, I started to reach for some turkey. Charlie shook his head. “Lilly has to say grace first.”
Oh. Lilly was big on the praying before you ate thing. It reminded me a little too much of the farm, but they prayed to a different deity.
“Thank you for bringing us all here today. We’re grateful for the food and the company. We all have a lot to be grateful for—Amber’s big break, Ray’s promotion, Rory…” She smiled, though her eyes were closed. “New friends like Carl and David, and old friends like Charlie. “Anyway, bless us and this food and may this next year be just as fruitful.”
She opened her eyes and raised her glass.
“Here here,” Ray hit her glass with his, gently, then kissed her.
Everyone else did as well. I only tapped my glass against Charlie’s. If you tapped too hard the glass broke and you got glass in your food.
“Grateful?” I looked at Lilly.
“Things you’re glad for. That’s what thanksgivings really for,” Lilly told me. “To get together with those you care about, share a nice meal, and be thankful for everything you have.”
“Oh. Can I have turkey now?” I reached for a leg.
“Please.” Ray laughed. “We have enough food for an army.”
Lilly threw a piece of bread it him. Catching it, he popped it in his mouth, then showed it to her.
“Eww.” She rolled her eyes.
“Good dinner, Lilly,” Amber took a bit of green beans. How could people willingly eat vegetables?
I started to eat, ignoring the vegetables, except for the mashed potatoes, which I smothered in gravy.
Grateful. I ate and watched as they chatted, played, and joked with each other—even David and Carl, thinking about what she meant.
I had a lot to be grateful for. As hard as the real world was, , it as infinitely better than life on the far—a world of cold showers, beating, being starved, and living tied up in the hayloft of the barn.
Oh, and no one forced me to kill anyone. That was a plus.
And the food…
I took another bite mashed potatoes. It was nice to be able to eat as much food as you wanted—and food you liked to eat.
“Lilly?” I cocked my head. “Is being here, like here and not on the farm, something to be grateful for?”
Lilly nodded. “That’s an excellent thing to be grateful for Rory, we’re grateful for you, too.”
They were? Sometimes I felt like a great big pain. I didn’t know nearly as much as they did—about anything. Even silly things, like putting the shower curtain inside the tub so you didn’t flood the hotel bathroom when taking a shower.
I still wasn’t sure why they brought me into their circle of friend, why they put up with me. But I was glad for it. “I’m also grateful for you all.” I looked around. “Now can someone pass me more turkey?”
Lilly laughed as Carl handed me the platter of meat. “Save room for pie.”
She’d made four pies. David laughed. My appetite was famous.
I looked around the table. “Pie eating contest, Charlie?”
The Vampire grinned. He didn’t eat much, but had a fondness for baked goods. “You’re on.”
Lilly put her face in her hand. “You guys!”
“Lilly, your thanksgiving is perfect.” I smiled. “Pie eating is fun.”
Ray put an arm around her. “Food, fun, friends, that is what Thanksgiving is all about.”
We all raised out glasses. “Here here.”
Charlie ginned. “This is the best thanksgiving ever, Lilly. Now, did someone say something about pie?”
The First Thanksgiving
© 2009 Suzanne Lazear
“Come on, Little Bit, time to wake up.” The musical voice with the Irish lilt attempted roused me from my sleep.
“Umff.” I pulled the covers over my head. I liked to sleep. It was too early. Even without looking at the clock I knew it was early. Half-past the ass-crack of dawn to be exact. My head pounded. Last night, as usual, we’d gone out to the part. There had been shots, darts, and…
I groaned. There had been drunken karaoke and table dancing. Knowing my friends, they took pictures.
“It’s a long drive to Boston, and I promised to help Lilly cook—come on.” Amber pulled the blankets back, then put her hands on her hips.
“Why?” I missed Lilly but couldn’t we leave later?
“Because it’s your first Thanksgiving and Miss Obsessive Homemaker wants it to be special.” She grinned lopsidedly. “Ray’s coming down from DC and Charlie’s already there.”
With a groan I got up and showered. When I came out, Amber was dressed and packing up. We were on tour, Amber was a rock star opening for a rock band filled with really fun people. Well, they weren’t exactly people. The leads were Faeries. Amber was half Siren. I wasn’t exactly normal either.
“Coffee’s on the table.” She balled something up and threw it in her suitcase. I cringed. Last night I’d packed all my things up neatly.
No sooner had I sat down with my steaming hotel mug of strong black coffee when David, lead singer for the BoGo’s the hottest hard rock band in America opened the door.
“Am, we need to go.” He looked at the room and frowned. Amber’s stuff was everywhere—well, on her side of the room.
She sighed. “I know. Oh, Lilly wants us to bring two bottles of rum and another bag of cranberries.”
“Ding-dongs?” I took another sip of coffee.
David’s blond eyebrow rose. “Rory, you don’t have ding-dongs on Thanksgiving.”
“Why?” Everything was better with ding-dongs. Or beer and wings.
Amber shrugged. “I don’t exactly know, but I’m sure Lilly will object. It’s an American holiday.”
David started helping her pack. “Turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, pie…those are all traditional foods.”
“Why?” I didn’t really understand Thanksgiving. Growing up on the farm it involved shooting turkeys and a lot of eating, but I never got to eat any. It had smelled good.
“To eat way too much of Lilly’s home cooking.” Amber grinned. Lilly was a really good cook.
“Come on,” Amber slung her guitar over her shoulder. “Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Lilly.”
#
“No, Rory, the water has to be cold. Like ice cold.” Rushing over, Lilly took the measuring cup away from me. She, Amber, and I were in the kitchen making pie. I was lousy at cooking.
“Okay, I’ll go watch football.” Why did the guys get to watch football and I had to cook? I hated cooking. Lilly wouldn’t even let me have a snack. My stomach growled.
“No, you’re going to help.” The tiny sorceress put her hands on her hips.
Sighing, I put ice cubes in the water. “Better?”
“Yes.”
While her back was tuned, I tried to steal a piece of the turkey she’d just taken out of the oven to rest. Why did a cooked turkey need a nap? It was dead.
“Rory!”
Her voice startled me and awaked old memories, starting a habitual reaction we had yet to totally undo, even after all these months. I cowered, backing straight into Amber. A bowl hit the ground, shattering, and pumpkin batter went everywhere.
“Rory!” Lilly’s face fell. My body went slack.
“I…I’m sorry, Lilly. I’ll clean it up.” I liked to clean.
With a heavy sigh she took a tea towel and handed it to Amber who was now covered in pumpkin. “It’s okay. Dinner will be ready in an hour, why don’t you go watch football with the guys.”
Nodding, I cleaned up, then went into the living room, taking a seat on the back of the couch, not wanting to actually squish onto it—I didn’t like to touch people.
“Exiled all ready?” David grinned. Ooh, the Patriots were on. My favorite.
Ray shook his head. He was Lilly’s boyfriend. He was also my housemate when I wasn’t on tour. “I’m surprised she lasted this long.”
I’d broken several microwaves and an oven at Ray’s.
We watched the game and the apartment continued to fill with delicious smells as the sun went down. My stomach growled again, but the only food on the table was a tray of raw vegetables. I’d rather eat cardboard. At least there was beer.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.” Charlie grinned, walking into the room.
I waved. “Hi Charlie.”
“Hey, Little Bit.” Charlie was a smooth-talking, Cajun Vampire. “How’s tour.”
I threw him a beer and he took a seat opposite Carl, David’s twin. “Do you want to play darts after the game? Or are you still banned from Keone’s?”
Keone’s was the only SuNat—Supernatural—bar in the area. “Darts? Football?” He put his hands up in mock despair. “I thought you people were supposed to be teaching her about life.”
David shrugged, taking a sip of beer. “Football is life.”
“Here here,” Carl added. “We’ve taught her other stuff.”
“Yes,” Charlie shook his head. “I heard about Karaoke.” But he was grinning. “They have Karaoke at Keone’s.”
“You are not going to the bar on Thanksgiving.” Lilly stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. “It’s Rory’s first Thanksgiving. It should be perfect.”
“Actually, I’m having fun, Lilly.” Cooking aside. But I’d like some food now.
Lilly shook her head and went back to the kitchen muttering about rum balls. We’d forgotten the rum.
“What is Thanksgiving again, Ray?” He was the only actual American in the room.
“It’s a day of football games and turkey, I told you that,” Carl teased.
Ray settled back into the couch. “The first people who came here were the pilgrims…”
His words became blah, blah, blah as he got academic and used words I didn’t know. I didn’t have a large vocabulary, but on the farm so one expected me to say much.
“And so that’s why we celebrate thanksgiving.” Ray smiled.
I smiled and nodded like I always did when I didn’t really understand.
“The short version is that we celebrate the fact that the pilgrims nearly starved by over eating,” Charlie added.
“Okay.” That was better than Carl’s story about it being a holiday made up by the aliens who were fattening us up for their holiday feast.
“You guys,” Lilly sighed. Flour streaked her face and cheery turkey apron. She had a mitt on one hand. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Lilly, it’s fine.” Ray got up and kissed her on the cheek. “You did good, hon.” He wiped the flour off her nose, making her giggle.
“But there’s no rum balls.” She pouted.
“Thanksgivings not about rum balls,” he teased as we walked into the dining room, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“I know.” She nodded. “I’m just glad you were all able to make it. But I did want it to be perfect.”
My eyes went widened as I saw all the food on the table. “That’s all for us?”
Lilly nodded. “I hope it’s enough.”
Amber shoved her playfully. “It is, now sit.”
We did, I started to reach for some turkey. Charlie shook his head. “Lilly has to say grace first.”
Oh. Lilly was big on the praying before you ate thing. It reminded me a little too much of the farm, but they prayed to a different deity.
“Thank you for bringing us all here today. We’re grateful for the food and the company. We all have a lot to be grateful for—Amber’s big break, Ray’s promotion, Rory…” She smiled, though her eyes were closed. “New friends like Carl and David, and old friends like Charlie. “Anyway, bless us and this food and may this next year be just as fruitful.”
She opened her eyes and raised her glass.
“Here here,” Ray hit her glass with his, gently, then kissed her.
Everyone else did as well. I only tapped my glass against Charlie’s. If you tapped too hard the glass broke and you got glass in your food.
“Grateful?” I looked at Lilly.
“Things you’re glad for. That’s what thanksgivings really for,” Lilly told me. “To get together with those you care about, share a nice meal, and be thankful for everything you have.”
“Oh. Can I have turkey now?” I reached for a leg.
“Please.” Ray laughed. “We have enough food for an army.”
Lilly threw a piece of bread it him. Catching it, he popped it in his mouth, then showed it to her.
“Eww.” She rolled her eyes.
“Good dinner, Lilly,” Amber took a bit of green beans. How could people willingly eat vegetables?
I started to eat, ignoring the vegetables, except for the mashed potatoes, which I smothered in gravy.
Grateful. I ate and watched as they chatted, played, and joked with each other—even David and Carl, thinking about what she meant.
I had a lot to be grateful for. As hard as the real world was, , it as infinitely better than life on the far—a world of cold showers, beating, being starved, and living tied up in the hayloft of the barn.
Oh, and no one forced me to kill anyone. That was a plus.
And the food…
I took another bite mashed potatoes. It was nice to be able to eat as much food as you wanted—and food you liked to eat.
“Lilly?” I cocked my head. “Is being here, like here and not on the farm, something to be grateful for?”
Lilly nodded. “That’s an excellent thing to be grateful for Rory, we’re grateful for you, too.”
They were? Sometimes I felt like a great big pain. I didn’t know nearly as much as they did—about anything. Even silly things, like putting the shower curtain inside the tub so you didn’t flood the hotel bathroom when taking a shower.
I still wasn’t sure why they brought me into their circle of friend, why they put up with me. But I was glad for it. “I’m also grateful for you all.” I looked around. “Now can someone pass me more turkey?”
Lilly laughed as Carl handed me the platter of meat. “Save room for pie.”
She’d made four pies. David laughed. My appetite was famous.
I looked around the table. “Pie eating contest, Charlie?”
The Vampire grinned. He didn’t eat much, but had a fondness for baked goods. “You’re on.”
Lilly put her face in her hand. “You guys!”
“Lilly, your thanksgiving is perfect.” I smiled. “Pie eating is fun.”
Ray put an arm around her. “Food, fun, friends, that is what Thanksgiving is all about.”
We all raised out glasses. “Here here.”
Charlie ginned. “This is the best thanksgiving ever, Lilly. Now, did someone say something about pie?”
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Dear anonymous donor....
Recently I was fortunate enough to win a critique of my entry for the RWA Golden Heart Awards from editor Angela James in a contest on her blog. She had been offering her services to critique GH entries and an anonymous donor made a contribution to cover the cost for one person who otherwise not be able to afford such a thing.
I hadn't even realized I won, I was out of town at a funeral when the winner was announced. Someone in my chapter announced it to our e-loop. I was floored since it was a random number pick and I'm one of those people who could buy a hundred raffle tickets and not win a thing. I was beyond humbled and grateful to have won, since I had been considering not entering at all due to circumstances. Part of the conditions of winning was that you *had* to enter, so it forced me to invest in myself and go for it.
I just got my critique back and I'm just overwhelmed with the great info I got. I'll be incorporating it in over the holiday weekend so I can get it to the RWA office before the deadline.
I guess what I'd just like to say is:
Dear anonymous donor,
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing this. This opportunity means the world to me. I never would have been able to take advantage of somethign like this otherwise and nearly didn't enter the Golden Hearts at all because I've hit a rough spot. Thank you for giving me a reason to believe in myself, my story, and my writing. Regardless of whether or not I final, this experience has taught me a lot and my manuscript is all the more stronger for it. I will be looking forward to the day I can pay this forward.
Sincerely,
Suzanne
I hadn't even realized I won, I was out of town at a funeral when the winner was announced. Someone in my chapter announced it to our e-loop. I was floored since it was a random number pick and I'm one of those people who could buy a hundred raffle tickets and not win a thing. I was beyond humbled and grateful to have won, since I had been considering not entering at all due to circumstances. Part of the conditions of winning was that you *had* to enter, so it forced me to invest in myself and go for it.
I just got my critique back and I'm just overwhelmed with the great info I got. I'll be incorporating it in over the holiday weekend so I can get it to the RWA office before the deadline.
I guess what I'd just like to say is:
Dear anonymous donor,
Thank you from the bottom of my heart for doing this. This opportunity means the world to me. I never would have been able to take advantage of somethign like this otherwise and nearly didn't enter the Golden Hearts at all because I've hit a rough spot. Thank you for giving me a reason to believe in myself, my story, and my writing. Regardless of whether or not I final, this experience has taught me a lot and my manuscript is all the more stronger for it. I will be looking forward to the day I can pay this forward.
Sincerely,
Suzanne
Monday, November 16, 2009
Do you NaNo?
I'm bloging about National Writing Month and my progress so far over at Steamed today. Come join the fun.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Steampunk Costume Contest
The steampunk posse is hosting a steampunk costume contest over at Steamed! . They've just extended the deadline so send in your pics today...
Friday, October 30, 2009
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween!
I was plesantly surprised to see steampunk costumes at the tot's school this morning, including a gentleman air pirate, steampunk Jane from Tarzan, and a cadre of identically dressed steampunk lolitas in fishnets and mini top hats.
Anyone going steampunk for Halloween?
Third Rail Projects in New York is having an amazing steampunk haunted house. It looks amazing!
Have a safe and happy Halloween, everyone!
I was plesantly surprised to see steampunk costumes at the tot's school this morning, including a gentleman air pirate, steampunk Jane from Tarzan, and a cadre of identically dressed steampunk lolitas in fishnets and mini top hats.
Anyone going steampunk for Halloween?
Third Rail Projects in New York is having an amazing steampunk haunted house. It looks amazing!
Have a safe and happy Halloween, everyone!
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