Black White Divide - San Francisco

In 1981, they’re finally realizing a long-held dream—a trip to San Francisco. Their hotel is half a block from Union Square, an ideal location to visit and appreciate much of what the city has to offer—Pier 29, Lombard Street, the Exploratorium which delights the adults as much as it does the kids, the cable car museum. Of course, they’ve ridden the cable cars several times.

Today they hop on a bus to another museum, only to arrive and find it closed. Not a big problem. They’ll take the bus back downtown and check out some of the stores.

A few minutes later, they begin to think there may be a problem after all as they don’t recognize the route. Another few blocks and they’re the only whites on the bus. Then the driver stops, gets off and a black driver gets on. The streets they pass are rougher and rougher with each turn of the bus wheels. Much too late to get off now so they stay where they are nodding politely as passengers pass down the aisle.

Within a short time they are the only passengers on the bus. The view out the window is of derelict houses, broken windows, weeds, and little sign of habitation. The driver stops and turns to look at them.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

They shake their heads.

He grins. “This is the end of the line. Cross the street.” He points to another bus stop. “Catch the next bus to get back downtown.”

They thank him and do as they are told. On the way back the black/white driver exchange occurs again. All of it such a foreign experience for this Canadian family.

HELP! I have a major dilemma

Your response is vital information for authors. We strive mightily to market our books, but are restricted in our efforts by vendors who insist we place our novels in categories and genres.

For example, I struggle to pick a genre for my Em and Yves series. People ask me about EMBATTLED, book one in the series.

Is it?

Science fiction?  Sure. Aliens from other planets are involved, but it’s not hard-core technical sci-fi and it’s set mostly on Earth.

Paranormal Romance?  Would seem so. There is a love triangle between an alien, a human, and her human lover.

Contemporary?  Definitely.  Lots of world events as the alien tries to make Earth a better place.

Mainstream? For sure. Lots of world issues—enough to capture the interest of many readers.

Urban Fantasy? Fits the definition. Urban setting with supernatural or magical elements.

Adventure? You bet. Jujitsu training, hand to hand combat, war, soldiers, terrorists….

Now, how do I roll all of that into one genre? What would your advice be?

Humor in Writing

Humor can be anything from a belly laugh and the giggles to a chuckle or a smile. As long as it makes us happy to some degree, humor is doing its job. Here’s an excerpt from Book 2,of the Em and Yves series, EMPOWERED—an example of humor in a book that is not meant to be a comedy.

Victor grabbed Jasmine’s arm and dragged her to his office. “Don’t you guys all have something to do?” he said over his shoulder, but none of the men moved. He saw Jasmine look back at them and wink.

“You tell her, Vic,” one of the guys hollered just as he slammed the door.

“Woman, what were you thinking when you came here? It’s not safe and you stand out like a sore thumb.” Victor glared at her. “Please, tell me you’re not that dumb.”

“Belize, I think.”

“What?”

“Belize for our honeymoon.”

“Honeymoon!” He heard the guys hooting on the other side of the door and imagined a whole lot of high-fives taking place out there.

“Yes, good snorkeling. We’ll have to have a society wedding of course. But we can keep it small and limit the photographers.”

“You’re totally nuts.” Victor shook his head in disbelief.

“We’ll make beautiful babies,” she cooed smiling up at him.

“Babies?  Babies!” Victor screeched. “Get this straight. We. Are. Not. Getting. Married. We. Are. Not. Making. Babies.” What did it take to make her understand?

“We are,” she said in a matter of fact way that enraged him even more. “We have to.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Victor, I love you. I can feel you in every atom of my body. My bones feel like jelly when I’m with you. Can’t you—?”

“You don’t even know me,” he yelled as he yanked the door open. The guys scrambled out of the way. With one hand on Jasmine’s arm and the other on the small of her back, he propelled her out the door to the waiting men. Jasmine stopped abruptly and Victor’s forward momentum caused him to press against her. He jerked back as if scalded. Jasmine turned to the audience in the doorway and mouthed, “I’ll be back.” Five thumbs turned up.

“No, you won’t!” Vic deposited her with her bodyguards and stomped back to his office. “Jesus H. Christ! Miss Jasmine Wade Berdin you are one hundred percent certifiably insane,” he said to no one in particular as he sagged heavily into his chair. His bones felt like jelly.

Real worries we face daily

Worried about fanatical groups taking over the world? Worried about China taking over world economy? Worried about big brother controlling our every move?

Those are not the big dangers. It’s household appliances and electronics that we need to fear.

It’s all those little lights controlling us—turn me on, plug me in, recharge me, answer me … Computers, iPads, phones, clocks—they’re all telling us what to do and when.

Then there are the little beeps that set us running. Oops, time to put dinner in the oven. Oops, time to take dinner out of the oven. Oops, time to fetch the toast from the toaster, time to unplug the coffee, time to turn off the timer …

Not to be outdone by the kitchen cousins, the washer and dryer sing to us. Yes, sing. Merry little tunes as we turn them on. Merry little tunes when the cycles finish. Merry little tunes when it’s time to clean the lint screen.

Do we need all this “control?” Are our brains so overloaded that we can’t remember what to do and when? Maybe so, but I for one could do without all the not-so-gentle reminders. The laundry can wait. So can the phone. If the call is important they’ll leave a message or call back. In fact, everything can wait and the world won’t end.

On second thought, I’ll keep the beeps that tell me when dinner is ready.

Best kids' party ever

The munchkin beating on what’s left of her Peppa Pig piñata.

The best kid’s birthday party

               The munchkin beating on what's left of her Peppa Pig  piñata. 

Happens in the street. Yes, the street. In Mexico, that is. And it’s the party our munchkin has chosen for her birthday.

Tables are set up for the cake and food and gifts. Chairs line the sidewalk and curb. The piñata is strung up over the street. Everyone comes—kids, parents, grandparents.

Chicken or pasta salad is served on tostadas, agua de jamaica (made from hibiscus petals) is the favored drink.

The kids play, everyone eats, and then it’s time to sing as the children from youngest to oldest take turns trying to break the piñata. Usually it’s up to one of the teens in the crowd to administer the final blow so the kids can scramble for the candy that tumbles out.

Group photos are taken and candles lit, Feliz Cumpleanos sung to the birthday child, and cake served.

Several hours later, replete and happy, the kids go home with their parents, toting their goodie bags.

Time travel in our own town

Since moving to Victoria, we’ve been exploring our new city and recently discovered yet another treasure – Point Ellice House. This National Heritage Site, overlooking the waters of Victoria’s scenic Gorge Waterway, exudes the peace and charm of a former time.

Peter and Caroline O'Reilly moved into the Point Ellice House in time for the birth of their daughter Kathleen December 31. 1867.  

The house remained in the family's possession for 108 years.

What makes this “museum” truly unique is that in 1975, three generations later, O’Reilly’s grandson, John, and his wife, Inez, sold the house and all its contents to the Province of British Columbia. The family left behind everything – furniture, clothing, toys, tea services, a harp, writing desks, board games, kitchen utensils, and more  – giving us a rare opportunity to see one of North America’s largest collections of Victoriana in its original Victorian home.

On seeing the parlor, my granddaughter said, “This must be the playroom!” Chess set, piano, harp, toys, tea sets ... definitely the playroom.

http://www.pointellicehouse.ca/

Finding David

Since I’ve been in leadership positions, I’ve learned that there are four ways you can get lucky when it comes to staffing your school.

One is connections:

• You hear from colleagues about good teachers.
• You wait (timing is everything – you learned this working in personnel).
• You phone your staffing consultant, tell him you need a teacher and ask if you can interview so and so.
• Five minutes into the interview you know you want the person and you are antsy as hell waiting for your assistant principal to finish asking his questions so you can offer K the job.

Another is seeing in action:

• You have watched the person when they have been supply teaching in your school.
• You wait (timing is everything – you learned this working in personnel).
• You call your staffing consultant as ask if you can please have M for the maternity leave position that must be filled now.

Yet another is interviewing:

• You call your staffing consultant and ask for candidates.
• You interview the individual and after a few minutes you send him packing when he tells you he doesn’t think he would want to teach at your school because he couldn’t further his career doing so with the kind of kids you have (yes, this is a poor part of the city, but we love our students and know how wonderful they are).
• You call your staffing consultant again, give him a report on the interview, and ask for another applicant.
• You interview and are more than pleased to offer G the job.

And then there is the “given” category:

• You get a call from the superintendent’s office telling you that you can’t advertise the position because they have someone for you.
• You stifle a massive groan and hold your head in your hands as an instant migraine develops and wonder what you could possibly have done to upset the superintendent (You worked in personnel—you  know how these “givens” work).
• You get a call from the giving principal telling you about the individual.
• You know better than to trust this particular giver so you make some calls of your own.

Within a few minutes of meeting the individual and a few days of working with him, you know that someone up there loves you because you now have David, who will prove to be an absolute gem as your new assistant principal.