Hi! I’m creating a new blog. I hope you all will follow me over at that blog. I’ll post links to it here for a while before I stop posting altogether on here. The new page is spellboundscribbler.wordpress.com and please feel free to share it. I just posted my first blog at spellboundscribbler. Come on over and take a look!
I just read a blog about voice. The blogger was making a point about not being fake, not using a voice for a purpose and then being someone else in public or private. And I realized that I have never truly expressed my own voice. There has always been a tinge somewhere of the people around me when a child develops their voice.
Voice is not the actual tonal quality of your speaking voice. It’s not a persona people see. It’s who you are on a soul-deep level. My last couple of blogs I’ve mentioned struggling with a bit of old baggage. I finally figured it out today. I felt like my voice was stifled so long and so deep that I am still figuring out who I am. I had a similar breakthrough once I realized that the ex-husband did not define me. I define me.
Let me say that again. I DEFINE ME. Not the ex. Not my mom. Not my friends. People who knew me when I was younger see a different person now. Who I used to be was the persona, the version of me I thought I was expected to portray. But it’s not who I truly am.
The true me, well, I think the tattoo I got when I had that other breakthrough is very appropriate to answer that question. It’s an attitude that I have to remind myself of sometimes. The tattoo says Foxy Bitch. It sits across the back of my neck at the top of my spine. Appropriate considering I had to find my backbone along the way. Sometimes Foxy gets a little lost and I have to go looking for her.
When I read Chuck Wendig’s blog this morning, I realized that I had lost sight of Foxy again. I didn’t have to look far. She’s there, here, typing out these words for you to read. When that moment of insight hits I get chills. The release of emotion is like shedding 50 pounds in an instant. I did shed a few tears because I’ve really been struggling with this for the last few weeks. And you want to talk about timing, I have a blues music channel on the TV and Etta James’ At Last came on and I had to sing with her. Loud. That’s who I am.
I’m loud and sarcastic and funny. I’ll talk about most anything with anybody but I can hold a secret tighter than a leprechaun holds gold. I love the rain and Mondays and cars with tailfins. I can and will take anything you say and make it sound perverted. I have a zillion ideas for stories in my head and I think now, finally, I can tell those stories. For that, I have to say thank you to Chuck. He helped Foxy find me again.
Not sure how I missed posting a review of book 1 in the Dead West series but I will remedy that instantly.
Those Poor, Poor Bastards is a zombie western following Nina Weaver and her father through a shambling landscape of supernaturally undead. The characters are well developed, showing a range of the human condition in all of its ugliness and beauty. Setting, dialogue, characterization and overall style are true to the western genre while offering up plenty of action to keep you on the edge of your seat. There is never-ending danger of being bitten, ancient bad guys, human asshats, and a stoic, hereo-esque type in a Stetson with two very large guns. All combine nicely into a crazy train that takes you on one helluva ride.
The Ten Thousand Things barrels down the tracks with just as much action as the first book. We see some of the same characters and a few new ones, all being reassuringly predictable and still surprising as events unfold, forcing them to change in subtle ways. The humanity of the characters is hard-fought amid the shambling horde and shines through beautifully. The authors stay true to their western style while giving us a sex scene, a first use of native spiritual magic that is stunning, and a surprise at the end that I expected and still was surprised by.
I would recommend both of these books. Hopefully the third in the series will be out soon. My favorite lines so far:
Nina smiled and reached out to touch her Colt 1861 Navy where it rested just inches away. Hard iron in front, an iron-hard man behind. She was covered.