Monday, August 29, 2011

Come on Irene

Oh yes, there were many a Tweet on Twitter on Friday, Saturday & Sunday with the #ComeOnIrene hashtag. It put the 80's song (Come On Eileen) in your head, no?

Anyhoo, I thought I'd take you non-New Yorkers on my Irene Journey. Why? Why the hell not? It's a funny story!

All through this story one MUST remember I have only one good hand. It's a must. It makes it all the funnier. Truuust me. we go...

Friday, August 26, 2011
As previously stated in the last blog entry, I braved the grocery store near my office for items I knew would be gone gone gone at my home store. I packed them up in a big re-useable bag and draaages that heavy bitch home with me.

On my way home I'm thinking of all the things I remember from living in the Carolina's for 10 years...on hurricane prep that is. Not that I was ever IN a bloody hurricane THERE...oooh noooo...but now that I'm up in NYC? Now I'm in one. (What about this seems wrong?) I make mental notes: Get water, buy batteries for radio, find flashlight, get batteries for it too, check candle supply, charge electronics (especially extra cell battery), fill tub with get the picture.

I'm also fretting about walking my dog in blowing rain. Remember? CAST. It's not supposed to get wet. *sigh* Wonderful. least I have my roommate (we'll call her Amy) to help me...........................

I get home to find Amy in a panic, packing her bags, and fleeing town. (Fucking wonderful.) I ask her where is she going to go. To a place out in the country on the CT/VT border, she tells me. I say, "Uh, the storm is heading there too, you know." To which she replies, "But there's less people there." O_o In her defense, she's from a small town, not been here long, her sister lives in Louisiana (can you say "Hurricane Katrina"?) and both her mom & sis have writhed her into a panic where she's going on about the sewer system backing up and no transportation (MTA shut down from Sat at noon till 5am this morning)and millions "trapped" in the city...etc. Panic. Mayhem. Trapped. She's on a roll...face white, pinched and body moving in a jerky fashion. Poor thing. They've pretty much convinced her she's dead if she stays.

So she goes.

Me? I go down to 170th street to buy Meade. (The difference btwn a city girl & a country girl I was told.)----for those who don't know...Meade is a high alcohol Honey Wine. You've possibly had it at a Ren Fair.

I get home and run to the grocery store in my neighborhood for the last things I need. I am still toting the 3 bottles of wine and have no rolly cart. I never said I was smart all the time.

So the place is a madhouse. Shocker. But everyone is patient, nice, and...confused. No one who wortks there is helping prople understand their shitty set up for lines. any other Leo, as i get close enough and figure it out, I start answering questions and directing people. I know I know...typical.

By the time I hobble home with too many bags and put them away, I make dinner (God knows I have enough bloody food now) and read.

Saturday, August 27, 2011
I wake up at 8:15am.

Well hell.

I try to go back to sleep but my brain won't shut's all, "You need to do laundry and go find batteries...which you won't find but you have to try and you need to get water...which will be wicked heavy...How are you going to get that up the stairs? You need to call your dad and do some editing and....are you still laying here? If you don't get to that laundramat before the rest of the womem in your neighborhood you could wait all day just to wash your stuff! What if they close early? Get your fat ass up!!!"

So I did.

With one hand on my cart and the other wrapped in plastic, holding an umbrella (or trying to) I head to do laundry. I call my dad as I sweat to death in that place. You see, I'm my dad's only child. He worries like an old lady. I know he's glued to the damn TV (if he's not, he wants to be) worrying and wondering if I'm in the evacuation area....but he won't call. Oh no. That'd show me he's worried and I'n an adult and blah blah blah. *sigh* I know him. I love him. So I call to quelch his fears.

Once laundry is done it' guessed's POURING.


So here I go again with my plastic covered hand (a plastic grocery bag held on with rubber bands. Oooooh...stylish.) and I bumble along to get the damn cart into the gate and up the stairs. Ugh.

But I'm not done. Now it's "Find Batteries and Water" time. So I go to my remaining roommate to ask for help. She's sleepin (in her defense, she works LATE) and she's pretty much, I'm on my own. I stop at 3 places. No C batteries. Shocker. *sigh* I do find some overly priced small candles in glass though. I buy three. I go to Rite Aid. LINES LINES LINES.

*Deep breath*
Find pack of many water bottles together.
Consider how to get in cart with one hand.
Man walks by. Sees my dilema.
Briskly escapes before I can ask for help.
Try to lift using bad hand. Stop as its not feeling like a wise idea.
A woman goes by, sees my dilemma, and she too runs before I can ask for help.
God give me patience!
Finally I use my one good hand and actually lift the buggering thing into my cart without dropping on myself.
It's a damn miracle.

Thankfully the guy working behind the counter comes around to ring it up and puts it back in my cart. I head home. Oh, did I mention its raining again?

I. Could. Scream.

I stop into a bodega and actally find batteries. MIRACLE! Drag my sweaty ass and my heavy cart home to stare at my stairs. I'm debating called roommate to put on some clothes and help me when a man comes along with his laundry. He sees me. Oh yes...he sees me. Does he offer to help me?


But I corner the bastard and pittifully ask for help...convincing his hemming and hawing by saying "It's just one flight."

He helps. PRAISE GOD.

I get in and fall over onto my bed.

But no rest for the Hurricane weary folks! I need to get the apt ready!

Roommate still asleep.

So I take out the 3 things of garbage (in NYC we have to break up things into 3 bags; blue for glass/metal/plastic, clear for paper/cardboard, & black for other crap)...attempt to wash dishes with one hand (this is harder than you might think), put away laundry and shower.

My roommate THEN gets up and informs me she too is leaving.

Honest to goodness thought at the time: "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"

In her defense, her family lives not far from us and have been bugging her for 24 hrs to come over.

So she goes.

Alas, there I am. Alone. Broken hand. Hurricane coming. Dog to handle on my own. And then icing on the cake....TORNADO WARNING.


*Deeep breath*

Pack a go-bag. Pack dog stuff. Pack computer. Put the stuff in the hall at safest spot for tornado.

Watch the news. Told the worst will be from midnight to 3pm. Doze off. Wake up just after 11pm.

Look at dog.
Look at the clock.
Look outside at seriously blowing rain.
Remember its only gonna get worse.
Look at dog.
Look at the clock.
Look outside.
Put on plastic arm wrap.
Put on swim cap. (I didn't want to sleep with wet hair so stop laughing! Besides, it holds my glasses on. So there? )
Step into outdoor vestibule with dog.
We get to the gate...its REALLY BLOWING...and it'll be worse once I leave the protection of the side of the building. My dog pees briefly and we head to the gate. He looks at the gate but doesn't try to go to it. Instead he turns and looks at me. His eyes say, "Lady, you have GOT to be fucking crazy." I ask him, "Wanna go back in then?" He bolts back for the door to the apartment building.

Gooood boy. Thank you thank you thank you!

The barometric pressure has my injured hand swollen (it couldn't be that I did too much that day...oh no...blame it on the rain...) so I take 2 Motrin PM and pass slap the fuck out.

Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wake up at oh-dark-thirty (possibly 4am?) suuuper groggy from the meds and look outside. Not much wind, not heavy rain. I tell myself it must not be "here" yet. Pass out till 6am. Same view. Same thought. Sleep till 9:30am when my phone buzzes. Neighbor says its stopped raining but she can help with my dog. I scramble up at thr word "help", as I've had NONE till now, and it sprinkles the minute we're out...but she is helping so its easy.

She tells me Irene hit Jersey and then moved east...which means the worst is over. WOOT! We walk the dog and my neighborhood looks like nothing worse than a thunderstorm went through. Not a tree down, no flooding...not even a puddle!

So I busted my behind yestyerday for WHAT exactly.

Sometimes God's humor escapes me.

I leave you with the Come On Irene song someone''ll see.

Tamsin :)

P.S. I'd like to give kudos to NYC officials though. They were on the ball with preparations for the worst. Thankfully they weren't needed everywhere, but to those being wise asses about it? Shut up. They did their job well. If Irene hadn't hit South Jersey and run away to the east, you wouldn't be being so flippant. And to those who did lose power or their homes to flooding. Our prayers are with you.

****Funny Side Note: Where Amy ran hit worse than we did at our apartment. Oh the irony. Makes me smile. :) ****


Friday, August 26, 2011

NYC Hurricane To-Do List

Designed by Simon Fletcher. Link to Original on tumblr.



Tamsin :)

P.S. I am off to go buy hurricane supplies; Milk, bread, cereal, flashlight, wine, cheese, and snacks. That sounds right...right? Already got stuff to cook (gas stove is a plus when you realize power could go out) and a huuuge bag of dog food. Will buy some water at home. Not carrying the damn gallon or two of THAT from the office to home. Hells to the no.

Good luck all you New Yorkers! Watch...we'll get a sprinkle of rain and be done with it. Ha! Wouldn't that just be how it goes?

Prayers for those Irene's bawdy self does visit this weekend. Stay home or at least stay safe.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Black Sunshine

I got this idea. Its been swimming about in my head for the past few days. The thought or question(s) I've had was what would the world I created in the LDG Series be like in a hundred or more years if the human's didn't listen to and do something about the global warming and air polution. What would happen if the sky went dark? Would the vampires thrive? Die out? What about the human race?

I started seeing a story in my mind...using the grand daughter of Denika (our werewolf from "Moon Over Manhattan"). I can't really work on it yet as I...A) Can't really type well right now. B) I have edits for LDG to due.

But...I miss the creative process...all this editing isn't the same as writing/creating. So I took a little time today to play. See what you think. Pretty sure this isn't the first chapter...or if it is, there will be a prologue. It's rough...its short...its just a start.

Welcome to...

Black Sunshine

The city was dark, but that wasn’t anything new. It was always dark. Mia’s eyes were created to see better in it than the human’s who pushed past her, wearing their respiration masks. It still amazed her how determined they were as a race—the human’s that is. Surviving the wars, the pollution, and the death of the sun. Her brother called them cockroaches behind their parents’ back. Claimed it was because the scuttled from dwelling to dwelling in a protective shell.

Neither she nor her brother required protective gear or a RM (Respiration Mask). But that’s because they weren’t human. Never had been. Werewolves from birth, their lungs filtered the bad air automatically. In fact, two other of the four Clandestine factions could go without masks. The shape shifters and the vampires also wandered free of facial decoration, like her. The witches though? Too much human frailty in them as a species to go without one. This was why Beck wore a RM as he blathered on to her.

“I told you, I don’t know why your brother requested you. I just follow orders, Mia, that’s my job.”

Mia abruptly spun her tall form into his way, placing her hand on his chest, stopping his movement so fast his tall and lanky form stumbled. “I was busy.”

“I…I…I won’t tell him where I found you or what you were doing,” he stammered.

A human walked by, giving Mia an accusing stare.

“What? You got a problem?” She snapped and the human female scuttled off.

“They just think I’m human, that’s all,” Beck said, making excuses for the woman who’d gone by. “They don’t like it when our kind rough up theirs."

Mia removed her hand from Beck and continued to walk north on 8th Avenue. “What does Mabon want? Did he say?”

“No ma’am.”

She sighed. Her brother was always doing this. Ever since their father had gone missing he ordered her around like a puppy. It was driving her mad. She had work to do. Not that her family approved of her work, but she didn’t care.

She pushed her long bangs out of her face with an exasperated sigh. “If this is trivial, and you cost me my bounty for nothing, I’m taking it out of your ass, Beck.” When he didn’t say anything she turned her gaze on him, his floppy black hair bouncing with his steps.

Looking nervous, he swallowed and nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“Come on, you’re draggin’ your ass.” Giving his arm a slight tug they changed direction as they walked through Columbus Circle.

They walked in silence, Beck almost at a trot to keep up as they passed many who stared at her. Mia knew she looked like a Barbie doll wandering through the streets of Hell—tall, curvy, blond with blue eyes and a flawless face. It’s why she chopped off her long hair the minute she was of age to do as she pleased with it. She hated the comparison. It helped a bit that she usually wore her black leather, bounty hunting gear. Yet, her Barbie looks weren't the only reason people stared at her as her knee high boots crunched mercilessly on garbage on Central Park West.

“Freak!” A voice yelled from the subway stairs. She paid it no mind. It was the daily norm.

The other reason they watched her was because they wondered which faction she was. Shortly after the human’s had ruined the sky and in turn, the atmosphere, they had learned of the Clandestine World. Not so much because they weren’t careful, they always had been, but now they stood out. When human’s had started dying off and they hadn’t, they hadn’t been a way to blend anymore.

Scientists attempted to throw some of them in cages, pull DNA to study so as to improve the human’s quality of life. But they weren’t successful, neither in creating the serum nor in keeping Clandestine held captive. It had only resulted in more dead humans. So they stopped. Now they just stared—like they were animals in cages at the zoo. Often Mia stared back.

“Do you ever wish they didn’t know about us?” She asked.

Beck cleared his throat inside his mask, his voice then coming out through the speakers with a slight squeak, “We run the world now, Mia. Why would we want to go back to that?”

To be normal. To blend in. To not be watched all the time.

“Never mind. We’re here.”

© Copyright Tamsin L. Silver

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Let's Talk About Imagination

"I'm just 'tending, daddy." (psst...that's child slang for "pretending," btw)

This is what I said to my father at the tender age of 4 when he was concerned that I wasn't aware of the difference between reality and make believe. We were at a restaurant, my mom, a friend of the family, and obviously my dad and I.

My mother, who likes to tell this story, then explains how I looked at my father, rolled my eyes, huffed out a completely exasperated sigh and put him in his place. My face and tone were nothing short of saying to him, "How can you be so stupid to think I don't know the difference?" My father is a very black and white person, so its easy to see how my gray line confused him. Ya know what? Still does. LMAO!

So this was me, at the age of 4.

Mind you, my best friends are very likely nodding their heads right now saying, "I'm not suprised at all." :)

Yeah yeah...I know, I've not changed too much.

Nor has my imagination.

I was an only child and was used to playing alone, talking to fake people, creating stories. I was BIG into barbies...using them to reinact musicals (using the original Broadway recording--on tape--for the songs of course) or tell stories...but those stories were "on going" a soap opera.

So you see, I've always been long winded. :)

I've also always been detail oriented and very visual. As I got older this didn't change. If you're old enough to remember when the "Sony Walkman" came out you know it changed everything! You could take your music EVERYWHERE and no one could hear it but you! How wonderful! SAVED me from the boring drives to church (30 min drive each way) three times a week (Wednesday night, Sunday morning & again some Sunday nights. What can I say? Baptists.) with my parents. I'd listen to music and daydream.

Before I dicovered rock-n-roll in 7th grade I would listen to...are you ready for this? I would listen to the score to the latest John Williams movie...aka Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back & Return of the Jedi, mostly. I'd use the music to dream up my own stories.

No suprise that music today still lights my imagination on fire. Some of my best action sequences or romantic scenes come to me on the train, listening to music (used to come to me in the car before I lived in NYC). I literally can see scenes in my head.

I think, in many ways, this history and vast imagination are the key to my writing. I stated on Twitter today the following: "If you create a thorough & meticulous world for your series, with well flushed-out characters...continuing that world will be fun, not a chore."

As a writer, especially a Fantasy/Sci-fi writer, I think its extremely important that you take the time to know the world you create. Know everything about it. Do research if you can and visit the area you set its a real place...that is, if you don't live there already. Its obvious that Cassandra Clare spent time in and did research on/about London before writing The Infernal Devices first book, "Clockwork Angel" AND that Nora Roberts has spent MUCH time in Clare, Ireland.

But even if your land is totally make believe, it should be as real to you as your back yard. Know every inch of it. Know the laws and the rules, how things exist there...know it by heart (or jot it down if its easier for you...I have maps of areas in Boston and Canada to aide me). Live and breathe that place, those people. If you do, so will your reader AND if its a'll be a joy to write the sequels, not work. You'll have endless possibilities. Cassandra Clare's Immortal Instruments Series is a wonderful example of this kind of detail.

I pray I too can take my readers on multiple journeys in the Living Dead Girl Novels...seeing as my head has lived there on and off for almost 20 years.

Now, it's time to start the 2nd edit of that bad bitch of a manuscript so when you buy the book this October (and I pray you do) it doesn't suck. :)

Until I emerge from my edits...


Tamsin :)

Monday, August 22, 2011

Broken Hand

So yeah, I broke my hand...that's why my blog has been MIA. But, seeing as I still have two character posts to do, I'm going to type them with one hand and pray I don't wanna beat myself in the head with my cast before I finish.

That said, I might as well share my pain with you I'm a TMI sorta gal as it is...and nothing tells a story better than pictures. :) So here you go.

Fall on the way to the subway and do this to my finger:

I go home, I buddy up the left pinky with ring finger and tape them, wrap my hand in a bag of frozen corn (no, really...that's the truth), called my boss, call my PCP and get on the train to downtown. And yes...I'm crying like hell as quietly as I can. People are staring. I'm in a panic. Good times.

PCP agrees..."Yep, it's broken. But we can't Xray or help you. You need a hand surgeon or the E.R." Oh heeeell no, I'm NOT going to an E.R. Find me a doctor today please! I tell them, "I don't care if I wait all damn day, I just wanna see them today and verify it's broken and find out what to do."

So luckily they find one who will squeeze me in that day. And off I go!

It takes HOURS but I'm finally seen and wow, is it brokem! Here's the X-ray (look at the base of my pinky, where it meets the hand. See the break and twist of the bone?):

The guard they put on it until surgery:

Doc marks the correct finger & arm:

The weirdest underwear and ugliest HAVE to wear these for surgery. NOT! See:

I wake up to THIS large of a cast (yeah, that's only my thumb you can see) w/o warning:
I'm like "WTF? Didn't I say I needed at least one finger! Aaarrgh!" ---that huge foam thing, for those of you lucky to have never seen or worn keeps the hand upright...constantly (yes, even in sleep). I find out though that they were able to do a "closed reduction" (and boy, are they wiggy happy about it). I find out later that its a bit rare to get to do this. Hence doctor happiness.

Luckily I am only to wear this bastard for a week.

Let me tell you...its the small things you realize you appreciate when you have no second hand. Like what? Oh, like putting on your underwear! Talk about a reach around! Almost gave up on wearing any! My bra? I didn't even bother to try.

So I lay in a bed for 7 days...eating, reading and being depressed (and in wicked pain, but that's a given, right?) and gaining pounds by the moment...or that's what it feels like. I'm a mover. I'm a shaker. And now...I'm a lump on a bed. *Grumble*

Oh, did I mention my book edits were due?

Would it be unwise to tell you I possibly cried over that as much as I cried about the pain while at the doctor office?

Does this make me shallow?

ANYHOO...where were we?

Ah yes, one week to wear the bloody buggering bastard of a cast...

NEW CAST DAY! (I get fingers back!)

They have to saw the thing off. (Maybe, just maaaaybe I had visions of that saw going thru to my skin and my blood spurting all over the white little room...but let's not talk about it, shall we?)...and I see the pins in my swollen hand:


They then put me in this cast (yay fingers!) and send me off:

Where do I go? I visit my pal Charlie and work up the courage to cut all my hair off. Why? Wrll....

1) It's August in NYC
2) I can in NO way "do" my hair with 1.25 hands. Can't.
3) I look good in short hair and have been thinking about doing it for awhile.

So, I meet up with Lauren and we both get our hair cut short (me more so than her, mind you). Here is what I had done:


I start experiencing severe numbness in my index finger. I call the doc's office. I'm told I've pushed too hard, elevate my hand for 24 hrs and call on Sunday.

On Sunday it's worse and I'm now in a bit of a panic (like I wasn't the night before...ha! I totally was!). I call. Bob asks me, "Is your cast loose?" I'm like, "Yeah, why?" Alas...Bob tells me that its possible the reason for the extra pain at the pins and numbness is because the cast is loose enough to rub them.


I'm told I needt to come back in.


BACK TO THE DOCTOR WE GO...3rd Monday in a row!

They cut off the cast (insert mild anxiety of saw & blood & spatter again), re-Xray it, and pour alcohol on the pins (ouch!). Good news is te swelling is waaay down and though these are a bit red, doc says they look great. (Uhhh, really? Cause to me thry look angry, pal) See?
Doc also says its healing really well...bone's in the perfect place...etc. He also thinks my numbness is due to cast pinching my wrist. So, good news, I get a shorter cast, more padding...and it's BLACK. Yep, it now matches my wardrobe. *snicker* See?:

Anyhoo...normally I'd get this one off in 2 weeks buuut that's Labor Day and my doc only sees patients on Monday's (he's in surgery the other days) so I must wait until Sept 12th. 10:30am. I'm counting down the days with marks on my cast (like jail) until I'm free. I'll probably still need to wear that cuff they made me on the day of the break after the cast is off...but I SO don't care. :)

So that's my tale of woe...of my first broken bone ever. Good news is my Orthopedic Hand Surgeon is one of the top in the country and he feels I should have full use of my pinky after some PT. YAY! I shou;d be rip, rarin' and ready to rock br 2011 NaNoWriMo!!!! Woot!

So be carefull where you walk New Yorkers...this ALL came to be because I tripped on a broken sidewalk on my way to the subway/work.

Yeah, trust me, I already know I'm a klutz...hell, I'm actually shocked it took this long for me to break something!LOL!

Take care all! Wish me luck with my edits...First round went to the editor on Saturday and we have 2 more passes till it's ready. I still want this book to come out 10/14/11! So pray I get fast with this one hand method of typing! :)


Tamsin :)

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Living Dead Girl Cover Art

"The lines between good and evil are sometimes blurred."

Atlanta Hart, an English Lit Grad student, who spends her free time absorbed in the Goth/Industrial club scene of Boston, learns that she's an Air Witch, the first discovered for centuries. Suddenly she and her friends find themselves immersed in a world of magick and magickal creatures, not all of which uphold their birthright to protect the human race. This new world is on the brink of war, propelling Atlanta to embark on a journey to understand her powers in order to fight for her life and the lives of those she loves. With the help of legendary vampire hunter turned vampire, Sean Cameron, can she discover the truth of her past in time to save her future?


Look at that. For an e-book...not a bad cover, huh?

I must get back to editing...but I wanted to share this.


Tamsin :)

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Short Story Topics? And...GO!

I'm lookin' at you...yeah YOU!



Let's play a game.

Those of you in theater know how this works for improv...we're going to attempt to do it for writing.

I am going to be writing a short SHORT story. Not my usual thing. soon as my edits are done I'll be writing one to give away during promotions for the book. So I thought it might be fun that those of you who read this could play along.

Ideas...I need ideas.

Much like when you visit an improv show and the person says, "Give us a topic or word and we'll create an improv from it," I want you to do the same. The ideas can be random, they can be organized, they can be whatever you want. Let's keep the story in my genre, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, and let's have fun with it.

You can just throw things at me like the name of a town, a situation, and an end game...or you can just toss out a confilct...or you can give me random words/topics. Don't care. If I use yours, you get a free copy of the story before anyone else and acknowledgment on the document as well.

So...short story topics...

On your mark, get set.....GO!


Tamsin :)