It did hit the fan...

...yeah, you know 'what', I won't spell it out.

3 weeks of flux, moves, changes, and yes too, hurt. By now most of you will know that around March 26 I resigned from my position as senior editor for the main line at Eirelander Publishing. What prompted this? It was a part of the flux. I was getting sucked into a sort of sandpit and just couldn't keep my head above at breathable level. Remember the issues with my oil and water and the whole breakdown thing? While all these were formenting in the background (they would've blown in my face sooner or later), well, let's just say sometimes a catalyst comes along. In my case, the catalyst was how I was living my life.

I was busy. Too busy actually. I wanted to be everything, and another thing that 'kills' with me is my desire to help. Need a hand with anything, just ask Z, because she'll never say no. In that respect, I think I take after my dad. Before retiring, he was a career nurse. People were always coming to him for help with medical stuff, or if relatives were admitted to hospital, he knew everyone it seemed and got all the info for everyone.

What I also recall is - for all my dad helped people, to me it didn't seem like he was helping us. Maybe I was selfish, but we'd see him receive a call at 1 in the morning, on one of those rare nights when he wasn't on duty, and a short while later he'd be getting into the car of some relative who needed his 'help' with some hospital matter. He'd usually start duty while still helping that relative, and we wouldn't see him until close to 24 hours later. I grew up knowing my father was almost never at home, and I treasured those moments we did have together. I also knew, and this burnt, that we never heard from these said relatives when none of theirs was in need of my dad's 'help'. But that was the man he was, still is, btw. Ask for his help and he'll never say no. Today as a grown up, I realise that's a wonderful trait of his, but as a kid, I resented it.

And now I was turning into him too. I 'helped' everyone but wasn't there for those who mattered. I 'lived' in my house, but my husband was just the man I was married to, not the one with whom I shared all my woes, dreams, issues, nonsense, like in the past, like not so long ago actually. My son was growing up but sadly, I didn't really know him and the little man he was growing into. And he too knew his mom as 'the woman who was always at her computer and always busy with work'. I never read anythin from my TBR pile; I watched movies with the hubs because otherwise he'd pitch a fit because we never seemed to share time together; on some days lunch consisted of wolfing a protein shake on the way down the stairs to pick kiddo from school, at quarter to 3 in the afternoon; sleep was after working on the PC online in the evening, working on the laptop at night, and working on the PDA phone in bed just before going to sleep around midnight or 1 AM. And in the morning it'd start again at 8.30 AM at the PC to check email before switching to the laptop to work until quarter to 3 when I'd dunk a shake and go pick the kid, to come back again online an hour later.

The fact was, I no longer had any time. I'm very much a perfectionist - when I do something, especially for others, I want it to be perfect to the dot. Without realizing, I will be sucked into the venture and helping out in any way I can. Now if I had no life, that would be great. But that wasn't the case. I was me, I was a wife, I was a mom, and I was a writer.

It came down to a choice - who did I want to be? Strangely, this scene from the movie Cocktail jumped at me - you know where Tom Cruise is eating reheated pizza and doing his assignment where the teacher asked them to write their own obituary. What would my obituary look like if I died today? What would it look like if I continued along the same path I was on? What did I actually want my obituary to say about me?

Certainly not that everyone loved me because I helped at the drop of a hat but the people who mattered said I was there in body but never in spirit and heart. Did I want my husband to ask, why did I stay with her? Did I want my son to tell his kids, my mom never had time for me coz she was always working?

And the writing - let's talk about it. Nothing there. Dry as dust. Forced. Stilted. The problem was - I had no time. Writing was akin to a chore, that I had to fit in with as much gusto as a trip around the house with the hoover in tow (hoover trip that I have to fit in this week, btw, ack!).

I had to face it - I was a writer! Wife and mom and daughter too, yes, but most of all, I was a writer. Not anything else. The choice - writer or everything else work-wise.

Every writer will know and reckon that writing is not a hobby. It's work, it's a job. It takes time, investment, dedication, heart. It takes all your brain and all your soul too.

So the choice came down to - I am a writer. Period. Which meant that while I loved to edit and help authors, that task wasn't me and what I was cut out to do. In a choice between editting and writing, I chose writing, and in the same go, I chose to be a not non-existent wife and mother.

Sadly, not everyone understood my stand. I faced some scathing remarks, some attacks on my person. It was never my intention to let anyone down, but that's how it was construed by some. Thank goodness the people I relied on and cared about rallied around me and I realised how blessed I was to know such amazing ladies. They all 'got it', and hugged and listened and cheered me up.

It hurt me that in a few instances, I saw the real face of some people whom I considered friends. But like every hurdle teaches you, it's in tough times that you realize the real truth, that you see reality for what it is.

But I am moving forward. I quit a job, a prestigious position, and though some would feel like they should regret their lives for such a 'rash' decision, I don't regret it. I'm sad it had to come to this, but I am who I am and the reality is such that I couldn't keep going the way I was. In the process, there are some indelible marks upon my heart now, but this is how we learn, innit?

My goal now? Be the writer I was meant to be all along. I took a detour along the way maybe, but I'm back in stride now. In my personal life, I am getting to know my son better. I am hearing his laughter everyday, a sad fact to mention was that while I was 'working', this 6-going-on-7-going-on-30 little man wasn't laughing anymore. I am getting better acquainted with my husband too, letting the two of us realize why we had chosen to be together for the rest of our lives in the first place (amid some china breaking, of course, but that's us, hot-tempered Indian-origin folks!).

So I am writing, and hopefully, I will have an update for you shortly. I'm thinking of revamping the blog a little too, with some posts of cross-links to life, love, relationship articles I come across on the Net. Sort of like making my Perception Tunnel sub-heading in the weekly post a weekly or bi-weekly happening on here.

All revved up - yes, my mojo is back! I am back too, and let's hope that I won't lose myself anymore!

Thanks to all who stand by me and who in any way, small or big, have touched my life with their presence, words, hugs, and friendship in the past few weeks.

Don't forget:

Live. Laugh. Love!

Aftermath beckons...

Note to writer self - in the aftermath of a black moment, your heroine should be feeling completely silly and stupid. Why? Because that's how I'm feeling now.

I did go through a black moment over the weekend, culminating in the tears and unleashing on the blog yesterday. I cannot pinpoint exactly what led it on - it was one thing built upon another and another and another, and before you know it, you are overwhelmed and fraying at all the edges.

You know the BFF in every chick-lit story? I'm lucky to have one too. She lives thousands of miles away from me but she is always there. She sat me down and had a talk with me yesterday. Her words: life happens, deal with it.

Sounds harsh? Maybe, but she was right. Life isn't gonna go away no matter how much you stick your head in the sand and wait for it to 'pass'. And if it does pass, it's waiting for you around another corner.

That's what I had done, and the past few days were one such corner waiting for me to slam in it. I won't recoil from saying that the issues involved were actually people. The people in my life, those who make me whole when I bring them together and place them as the foundation of my existence. But that's a tricky thing - family. It's oil and water and pepper and salt and sugar and slices of lemon. On a good say, you stir and shake and end up with palatable vinaigrette. On other days, you stir and shake all you want and all you end up doing is making your arm hurt when nothing is mixing. That's when you have to realize - will this mix turn into a salad dressing or not?

In this latter case, it was a not. Actually, it was a not for a long time, I just refused to see it because it was easy to just keep on stirring and shaking when the oil and water were starting to separate. And then you get old and your arm muscles are no longer so strong and you grow tired and get aches and pains. Short of becoming addicted to painkillers, you have no way of keeping on stirring and shaking so everything will keep sticking into a salad dressing.

Strange side note - I am not a foodie, not even an enthusiastic cook. Yet using cooking examples come easy to me. Go figure.

Back to that example - translated to real life, the growing old part for me was actually about growing up. I had (hopefully) acquired the maturity necessary to look at things and know that oil and water will never mix and that I cannot keep hiding in the sand. If this were my heroine, this is the basis I would've given her to get on with her life and move to find her own happiness in her arc. So if I knew all that, why wasn't I doing it? Because writing is fictional, and real life isn't. In your writing, the sh*t may hit the fan but over your plot progression the mess miraculously disappears. Not so much in real life.

That was my dilemma - I had to do this, separate the oil from the water though I couldn't cut either from my life. Face it - we need Essential Fatty Acids and H2O to survive! That was me in a nutshell. Had to scrape off the salad dressing and figure how I could get both so I'd still be healthy yet without the hassle of having to make said dressing. Yeah, I may not be making much sense right now, I know that (beauty of blogging!).

It was hard to do. It nearly killed me. But like every writer knows, a character arc cannot progress if issues aren't adressed and there'll be no hope of HFN let alone HEA. So I did it - separated my oil from water.

And guess what? We're all still alive and kicking. Yes, there was a lot of hurt on the spot, but my mistake? I never gave the people involved enough credit to believe that they'd all hold on tall and strong without me to act as a supporting pillar in the display.

I don't know what consequences this move will have in the long term. If it's bad and the people are hiding it, it breaks my heart but sadly, I can't do anything about that. I tried, and look where it had gotten me. I know now that I may approach a corner and not be afraid of slamming into this particular issue. I know my arm need not hurt anymore from trying to stir and shake an impossible mix.

How do I feel? I'm still numb, I guess. Beneath this particular issue sat a few others, little ones that appear of no consequence but accumulate to something substantial when put together. We're working on them. My water (and I guess by now you know who I'm talking about here) and I are trying to figure out where the waves are coming from and what is triggering such tsunamis on the calm surface of our life together. My oil, well, is trickling along as usual. I just hope I haven't hurt them badly and that God will forgive me if I have. And my little dose of sugar was the sweetest of the lot, of course - yesterday he saw me crying and he came up, hugged me, and said, "can't you go to one of those places where they do massages and put that icky goop on your face and all that?" Yes, in his own little guy words, he was telling me to take a break and go to a spa! I think he'll know how to speak to girls later (yikes!). I told you, didn't I - we don't credit our people with enough good sense.

Yesterday I had a breakdown, a meltdown, and a black moment all rolled into one. I agreed I needed to move forward, and I took the plunge. Strangely, like my heroines, I didn't drown. I just emerged up and out as good-looking as a drowned rat, but you know what? It means I did come out.

I'm not seeing the light just yet, but I know it's there. Up to me now to cut through the brambles of thorns to be able to see the brilliant sky.

And yes too - as soon as my paycheck clears, I am gonna listen to the sugar's advice and book myself to have all that icky goop plopped on my face!!

Thanks to everyone who have listened and bothered enough to try and talk some sense into me at my black moment. Everyone needs people like you in their lives.

Incidentally, did I mention all this gave me an idea for a story...?

In the meantime, don't forget:

Live. Laugh. Love. I am followingmy advice now.

This is so not gonna work...

... what an awful blog record! The last time I've been here was about a month ago. I could go the same route - where did the time fly? Yes, true, where did it fly? But at the same time, I know I've slacked. I watch every Friday roll by and then I am so busy I go, promise I'll do it Saturday. Then Saturday rolls by, and life is shaking me around like a rag doll.

That's how I feel on most days lately. Like everything is shaking up around me and I can't do a thing about it. You could say that's an easy excuse out, but I have nothing else to propose as reason. Everyday is like a rollercoaster and a struggle fit into one...

Most of you people know me as a chirpy, carefree, easygoing girl. But that's not who I am. Not really. It's a facet of me, the one I take on to face the world. I'm not sure anyone really knows me. People look at me and see wat they want to see. Now if you people are good at reading between the lines, you may have read me like an open book.

Who am I? Writer, editor, mother, wife, daughter, woman. Sum total of me? I don't know.

Why am I getting so heavy this time around, and the post is not even a weeks' type roundup I usually do. The reason could be that change is inevitable.

Around this same week 5 years ago, my life changed completely. I had been married for 3 years, mom of a 22-month old toddler. I'd just turned 22 years old. And I was a complete spoilt brat. March 14 marked the start of a turnng point - while showering I felt a hard lump in my breast. Strangely, I didn't panic. I called doctors, went for a mammogram, booked myself into a clinic to have the thing removed on the 17th. Was I living in a bubble? Maybe. It would burst on March 22 (yeah, that number again. Hadn't realised it was so prominent in there!). On that day the pathology report came back - the lump was malignant and spreading fast. Yes, it meant the word: cancer.

I had received the news in my parents' living room. The doctor in question was my cousin who apparently didn't think of patient confidentiality and just announced to the world, before I'd even heard it, that I needed to have surgery and chemo and all the hoop-la. No, I haven't forgiven him, and never went back to see him ever since. My husband said he'd take me home. I said no. I didn't want to be in the bubble of a car interior. I just stepped out and walked back home, 3 blocks away. The 10 min walk turned into a 20 minute stroll. I was still in pain from the first surgery, still had its gigantic dressing on my left side and its stitches itching and burning me. But in that moment I felt nothing. I stepped on the road, and I listened to traffic, people, felt the air on my face... I didn't talk for the whole day, I remember. The one thing I also clearly recall doing when I got home was that I sat down and prayed.

And then I decided to write. I had been toying with a story, one of those literary types that analyses every detail and can put a teacup on a pedestal so much it was heavy and symbolic and yes, boring. I remember writing on the eve of my surgery, because I couldn't sleep. I remember writing on the eve of every chemo session, because I again couldn't sleep.

And I remember growing up in that 20 minute walk. I remember becoming a writer consciously on that day.

A few weeks later I would meet a woman who would change my life again. Her name was TJ Killian. A confirmed author, she became a CP, a friend, a mentor. I remember she asked me - where do you want to be in 5 years?

5 years have gone by. Am I where I wanted to be? In a way, yes. I'm a writer, I'm published, people are starting to recognize my work. Strangely, it is Nolwynn Ardennes, born just 2 years ago, who is getting more prominence than the 5-year-old Aasiyah Qamar who was born back then.

I am starting to ask myself whether every 5 years is a lapse that prompts you to take stock of your life and reassess your priorities. I am asking myself questions.

Like why did I think of getting a degree? Seems like 8 years ago when I took on that program, it was more because it was what everyone was expecting of me. A good student my whole life, why did I 'cop out' and get married and have kids when I could've had a bright future before me? Sadly, I bought that crap and now that I'm one semester away from completing this darn degree, I cannot cop out and give up. I've invested too much, not just financially but emotionally and time-wise in there to give it up now. Sad, I know...

On some days I regret other decisions I made in my life. If I'm not regretting, I am second guessing. And yeah, that's personal. I'll never regret writing - that has become my life in a nutshell.

What I'm getting at is that - I may be a writer as you people know me, but I am also a person. And that comes with a whole load of sh*t. No other way of saying it. Why haven't I blogged? Because life has a way of catching up with me and twisting me around. Yes, it's a life I chose,  but had I known, would I have chosen it? I am not so sure. Lately I am feeling completely washed out, tired, and in over my head. I feel as if I've lost myself in there... for you see, one thing I hate is conflict. I prefer to dodge issues rather than address them head on because that'd be a further stress I completely don't need on top of everything else.You could say life dealt me a dodgy hand of cards and now I gotta play it. Tough but you gotta bite that bullet... Well, on some days, that gets a bit too much for me.

In the past weekend, I haven't gotten anything done. I've sat down, walked around, lost sleep over where I am at in my life. I've even asked myself if I was having a depression, a break down, a melt down, whatever.

One conclusion I  have reached is that while I may not want to disappoint everyone, I can't please everyone at the same time. I have to pick and choose my priorities, pick and choose my battles, and get over the crap. Would it make a difference if I said at some points, I've wondered if it weren't all crap that I'm living?

Might sound pathetic but in the past week I've received 2 reviews for my book Storms in a Shot Glass. 2 women, total strangers to me, who have enjoyed the story and told the world about it. Would it be strange to admit that this was what gave me a sense of validation? That this support was what kept me going?

Yes, I know - that's sad. I'm sure I've scared a lot of people today, and no, I'm not thinking of ending it! Not my life, not my writing, not my relatonships, and not this blog (lol there, for I wonder if aside from a few dedicated regulars who read my rambles more out of loyalty and friendship than because I have something to say, people don't really give a hoot about what I have to say).

But no, I'm not giving up. I'm just realizing that I need to give a new direction to my life. Face things head on instead of trying to smooth everything and please everyone and in the end hurt myself in the process. Strange - last year I wrote one such woman in a story, and it never dawned on me that she was me in a very big  part...

Change... welcome it, trash it, dodge it? It's here whether we like it or not. I may not like it, but I have to accept it in order to be whole again.Yes, it's 'that' time again...

5 years ago I grew up, but I guess I didn't grow up enough. I still have a lot of work to do in that light, especially now. This morning I cried after I dunno how long, and I think the tears cleansed and enabled me to move forward, even if that forward is a bramble of thorns. Are there a few roses in it? Very few and far between, I'll admit... Some things I'll need to do will break my heart, others will be relief after the initial storm. All of them will redefine life as I've known it so far. I'm scared, and I'm torn, yes. I don't want to be in my shoes... Funny in a twisted way, innit? If this were one of my heroines, I'd have her path all plotted out. But this is real life, sadly, and is there such a thing as HEA?

So if you're still around after reading this, I'll see you soon. And yes, not just every Friday (that I dodge and escape!). I am hauling a lot of stuff, but one thing I cannot give up on is my writing and the connection that gives me to the world. To you people.

Thanks for listening, and the ones who are there - thanks for being there.

And in the meantime, don't forget;

Live. Laugh. Love.

Yes too, I'm gonna take my own advice!

Weeks 12, 13, 14

Hey everyone!

Arghh again! 3 weeks! 3 full, long, awful weeks?? You gotta be kidding me! Where did the time fly? And what on earth has happened in those 3 weeks? Uh, nothing...?

Crikey, what am I gonna do with my life? Oh, idea - to see what's happened, check the Twitter feed on the right of the page. I try and update that one everyday, so at least there's that. Might prove to be a fit reminder for myself as to what's taken place lately.

But to be truthful, I know what took place. I wrote, and wrote, and wrote... and hit an iceberg the size of the Titanic-buster. That's gotten me completely off track. So in between writing and not writing, I've kinda been lost. Strange, wouldn't you say? I'd reply that this is what a deadline does to you. More on this bit in Perception Tunnel.

Otherwise, what else has been happening?

- Kid on the Block
Is being his usual cheeky *big* little self. Someone please tell me - do kids have growth spurts every other month or something? Every time I look at my son it seems to me he's either taller or more bulked up. Yeah, that's right - he bulks up. Nearly 7 years of age, the top of his head touches my shoulder, which makes him close to 5 feet tall already, and when you'd expect him to be a lean, string-bean kind of guy, he's bulky! The works-out-type too! Don't laugh, it's true! He's active in sports at school. Man, if he keeps that up, I may be ending up fending girls off my front door in a few years!

And oh yeah too - he sure is growing up too. Gave him a haircut the other day (yups, I cut his hair, and hubby's too. Saves us like 500 bucks every 6 weeks coz that's how fast they outgrow a cut!). So it's hot here, and I give him a short cut (not buzz, slightly longer, but it nearly dries up with one energetic rub of the towel). Guess what - he's not at all happy! Reason? He wants hair like Anakin in The Revenge of the Sith(yeah, Hayden Christensen, and that's actually long hair! See here, right.). He's not at all happy that his hair looks just like his dad's, coz even though they got literally the same kind of head, dad's got a widow's peak that makes his hair 'cool'. Go figure... and we thought girls were the divas!

- WIPed out
You know what - I'm not touting my horn here - but on the weekend of January 30 to February 1, I actually sat down and wrote over 20K to my WIP. That was like 5 chapters. I saw the story move forward in ways I hadn't imagined, and it was soooo flowing. Really thought I could've made my personal deadline of February 5 on it.
But here we are today and I've got like 4 chapters left to add on it. So yes, it's not near finished yet. What does that mean? I'm a failure as a writer? Maybe. That I'm human? Definitely so. Being wiped out happens, and we writers should really try to prevent this from even being to close to happening. But most often than not, we don't listen to our body, to our gut, that's telling us to slow down. We rush and rush and then we hit the wall nose first!
So where am I standing today? I'm at the black moment. The last time I wrote a word on this WIP was last Wednesday (not the 17th, the 10th actually!). I purposefully took myself off the story to allow it to come back. It's a bit of that strange love 'wisdom' thing - if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it meant it was supposed to be with you. Or something like that, you get my drift.
Did this with the WIP, even getting acquainted with the idea that maybe I'd have to let my editor know I wouldn't be able to hand this to her. Yeah, I did consider that option. Made my peace with it, if you want, and let it all go. Thankfully the strategy worked. The scenes have clinked again, and my personal writing Titanic repaired her iceberg-torn hole herself. I've not started writing again yet, but I'm going there soon. Wish me luck (just don't ask me to break a wrist!)

- Perception Tunnel
So yes - a deadline. Never really worked with one before. Of course, I've had them for projects, assignments, portfolios, freelance writing briefs, that sort of thing. On a story, nope. Never a 'hard' one imposed by your editor or your pub house. I've always worked within my own own bubble and sked, and this time it was different.
The thing is - life happens. And along with it comes things that do crowd your mind and put you in an unfavourable writing mindset. Not to mention the fact that when you're sorta forcing something to come out, well at one point, you're left with no juice to squeeze. What happens when you find yourself in this boat and you have a deadline on your head? A whole lot of grief and angst. You go through phases - shivering withdrawal-like phase where you keep thinking all paranoid, my editor is gonna kill me! Then comes the angst with all its fiery passion - why can't I do this, dammit??? Then you force it - bl**dy computer, you better inspire me asd I sit before your blank screen. After that you break some china, the geatting-to-grips phase as I call it. Lastly, you're in a zen mindstate - face it, you cannot force it and what has to happen will happen. You free your mind, you brace yourself to face the consequences, and wham! Before you know it, you've been through the trial by fire and you're 'cleansed'. The block, like an opaque veil, lifts and you start seeing your story clearly, really catch the forest for the trees.
An act of faith...? I'm not judging on that!

- Back to the domestic goddess
In between breaking my china (don't worry, it was the chipped and to-be-discarded ones. Not the wedding porcelain!), I did spend quite some time in the kitchen lately. Yeah, that's how bad this block was. I've made liver pate, that's actually tasted good! Swapped the mould for a muffin tin, and ended up with these little patty-like pates. Really easy to wrap and freeze up and control portions. I've baked a coconut-flavoured cake that's reminded me of a cake sold in a now-closed bakery, that I used to buy some twenty years ago (yikes, my memories are getting that old, meaning I'm getting old too!). I've made lima bean curry and chapattis. I've made paella in the pressure cooker. But this is the one I'll be sharing with you -

Chicken Basquaise

Ingredients:
1 full chicken, cut into small pieces (you can use other cuts too, like 4-5 thighs, depending on what you prefer)
1 can tomatoes
2 bell peppers (I use green and red, for colour)
2-3 shallots
2 spoonsful oil
4-5 spoonsful flour
1 cup chicken stock (or water, if you don't have any stock on hand)
Salt and pepper

Method:
Peel and chop shallots. Cut, clean, and dice peppers.
Season chicken with salt and pepper and cover with flour.
In a deep pan or casserole, heat oil and brown chicken pieces. Add shallots, peppers, and the can of tomatoes. Stir. Bring to boil.
Reduce heat slightly, add stock and stir until the liquid thickens. Bring to simmering, cover, and let simmer for 15-20 mins.
Serve sprinkled with chopped parsley and a side of steamed white rice.

- Reading Log

Thanks to the block, I had to take my mind away from the chaos of the WIP. Consequently got some reading material and browsed through it. The one I literally devoured was The Mephisto Club by Tess Gerritsen. Not my usual type of reading - I'd checked The Surgeon and The Apprentice before and they'd reminded me of CSI episodes on paper. Back then I didn't think I could enjoy this kind of drama on paper (coz I love it on TV. And no, the sights do not repulse me at all!). But thanks to the lack of good romance books out there right now, ones that don't take you for an utter idiot or worse, ones that mistake readers for lobotomy survivors, I turned to the 'dark' shelves at the library to find stuff to read. Thing is, hubby's getting into books too lately, and I usually end up picking up his reading stuff. He's into the 'dark' stuff and half the time I was choosing for him, I found myself going, oh I'd watch this if it were a movie!
So I took the bet on Ms. Gerritsen's work, as much for the book as for the respect I have for her (I had once read that some readers were giving her grief because she'd started out writing romance for Harlequin, and later became known for her gritty mysteries. Apparently, in some twisted logic, that's she'd written romance once meant she'd 'sold out' on the mystery readers! Gimme a break! That's exactly what I told her in an email I shot to her, so much I was incensed by the pointless grief they were giving her. Completely thought I'd shot a stone in water, you know. Well, less than 48 hours later, Ms. Gerritsen had replied my email and when I was reading it, it was obvious to me she had not only read my note but was replying to everything I had said in it! Lol, you can tell me someone else could've penned that, an assistant maybe, but I liked that she'd replied and that she showed consideration for her fans and for people who got in touch with her. She was human, approachable, and that she's so successful didn't seem to have gone to her head. And yeah too, she doesn't seem to take her readers for lobotomy survivors!)
So about this book - you may or may not be familiar with Ms. Gerritsen's duo of female protagonists: Detective Jane Rizzoli and medical examiner Maura Isles. This duo have been at the heart of many of this author's mysteries, and they're like one of those on-screen duos you just root for from the minute they appear in front of you. They've battled criminals, twisted minds, serial killers. And in The Mephisto Club, they're battling an ancient evil so scary it's literally got you holding the book with one hand and biting your cuticles of the other hand! The writing flows, the descriptions are vivid, and the characters are alive. The evil guy in there, oh my God! You don't wanna encounter someone like that even in your nightmares! But there's also the human factor, like the fact tough cop Rizzoli is having to play referee between... her mom and dad who are on the point of splitting up coz the dad has shacked up with a tart! Tell me if that ain't a slice of 'normal' life!
Go get that book if you're into mysteries and just want to read a good story! Ms. Gerritsen does not disappoint! She walks the fine line between believing in the mystical and the rational side of science and law enforcement, and before you know it, you too are on that fence, right there with Jane Rizzoli and Maura Isles!

- Hottie Alert
No pics today because I posted a rather chunky one yesterday at Pop Culture Divas. Check it out, the link is right down here in Promo Maven.

- Promo Maven
I've done a few chats these past few weeks, on Yahoo loops. You'd need to be a member there so that's why I'm not listing them here.
But do check this slightly OT post of yesterday at Pop Culture Divas - New Shoes: Casting Director.. or so I wish... It's about an aspect of writing *wink*

Until next Friday, cheers!!

And don't forget:

Live. Laugh. Love. XOXO