Pay it Forward & The Night Circus Giveaway

Welcome! Hoş geldiniz! Bienvenue! Witamy! etc...

Just to give you an idea of what you're signing up to read: I usually blog about Turkey (the country): food, music, traditions, artifacts, flora and fauna, historic sites, whatever strikes my fancy. Often I'll throw in a post about djinn (since that's my mythical creature of choice), parallel worlds or some other sci-fi-ish thing, and sometimes I'll toss in a good writer's resource.

You're here for my recommendations. So. First, make sure you visit my bestest crit partner -  

Leigh T. Moore at That's Write.
Writer/Journalist/Freelance Editor. She's already on your linky list. LTM is repped by Kate McKean at the Howard Morhaim Agency

Three other blogs I read all the time, but aren't on the list today:

Sarah Fine at The Strangest Situation
Fabulous, informative blog by a practicing child psychologist/YA writer. She's represented by Kathleen Ortiz of Nancy Coffey Literary.

Katherine Owens at KO: The Insect Collector
College professor and former expat. Loves insects, steampunk, all sorts of interesting stuff. Be sure to congratulate her. She's now represented by Amanda Lewis of The Doe Coover Agency.

Holly Ruggiero at My POV
Holly just changed her blog url, but follow her wherever she goes. I love her series posts on gems and colors. She also writes cookbooks.

image via indiebound.org

Just for fun, I'm giving away a copy of The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.

But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway—a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them, this is a game in which only one can be left standing, and the circus is but the stage for a remarkable battle of imagination and will. Despite themselves, however, Celia and Marco tumble headfirst into love—a deep, magical love that makes the lights flicker and the room grow warm whenever they so much as brush hands.

True love or not, the game must play out, and the fates of everyone involved, from the cast of extraordinary circus per­formers to the patrons, hang in the balance, suspended as precariously as the daring acrobats overhead.

Written in rich, seductive prose, this spell-casting novel is a feast for the senses and the heart.
via indiebound.org

This book is being hyped up everywhere: the web, magazines, TV, you name it. The author already has a movie deal with Summit. It's not YA, but I think lots of teens are going to be reading this one. Per CNN: 'The Night Circus' looks to enchant fans of 'Twilight' and 'Harry Potter'. I'm not so sure. I thought it was more Inception meets the circus, in the late 1800s. Or maybe The Science of Sleep at the circus.

Easy peasy giveaway rules:

Leave a comment with an email address.

Laughter is the Best Medicine Blogfest

See photo for self-descriptive indication of today's subject matter. Thanks  for the great idea, Leigh and Lydia! Check out the others on the linky list here.

So, in keeping with my middle eastern/fantasy writer theme - here's one joke about genies and another about a parallel universe.

Three men: an editor, a photographer, and a journalist are covering a political convention in Miami. They decide to walk up and down the beach during their lunch hour. Halfway up the beach, they stumbled upon a lamp. As they rub the lamp a genie appears and says "Normally I would grant you three wishes, but since there are three of you, I will grant you each one wish."

The photographer went first. "I would like to spend the rest of my life living in a huge house in St. Thomas with no money worries." The genie granted him his wish and sent him on off to St. Thomas.

The journalist went next. "I would like to spend the rest of my life living on a huge yacht cruising the Mediterranean, with no money worries." The genie granted him his wish and sent him off.

Last, but not least, it was the editor's turn. "And what would your wish be?" asked the genie.

"I want them both back after lunch," replied the editor, "the deadline for tomorrow's newspaper is in ten hours.

ME: Guess they didn't read my post on the three wishes!

How many science fiction writers does it take to change a light bulb?

Two, but it's actually the same person doing it. He went back in time and met himself in the doorway and then the first one sat on the other one's shoulder so that they were able to reach it. Then a major time paradox occurred and the entire room, light bulb, changer and all was blown out of existence. They co-existed in a parallel universe, though.

ME: Blown out of existence and co-existing? Is that possible? Wonder if Matt MacNish, Matt MacNizzle and/or Matt Rush would mind asking Orson Scott Card?


These jokes were snagged from Ginger Edwards.

Djinn Wishes & A Blogfest

via blog.dbast.com

With regard to your three wishes: get an attorney to word them- poorly articulated wishes can lead to undesirable results. And ixnay on the wishing for more wishes. :)

You might get a djinn to help you out with something if they think it's a good idea too. I wouldn't bank on that though, hence the binding. Djinn must do what you ask if you control the talisman they're bound to...so why the three wishes? Well, the long and short of the story is that the djinn don't grant wishes, except in tales that are teaching us a lesson.

First, lets look at the number three.

We need to rub the lamp/bottle/ring three times. We get three wishes. Both examples suggest the wishes can give us power over any of these three things:

The three worlds - human, djinn, heaven
Spirit, Mind, Body
Past, Present, Future
Creation, Destruction, Sustainance

In these stories, wishes are an enticement for us to release unsavory desires we've bottled up. A way to get us to cross over to the dark side, where the djinn/demon dwells. To have mastery over things that, free will aside, only God is supposed to control. This thinking is why the character who does the wishing ends up in a sorry state (dead/trapped/disfigured/insert horrible circumstance here).

Following that train of thought...it's probably better to stay away from djinn wishes and stick to the dandelion. :)

Now, if I won the lottery...

On to Nicole Duclerior's  Bernard Pivot Blogfest. Ten questions. Here goes:

1.What is your favorite word?

Zephyr (Been my favorite since High School - Dare I ask if anyone remembers the poem I wrote for English?- way before I actually discovered Mersin (my home in Turkey) was Zephyrium in the ancient world. Cool, huh? Is this supposed to be a one word answer? Sorry!)

2.What is your least favorite word?

Seriously 

3.What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?

Ruins (Sorry, I'm odd that way. History speaks to me...)

4.What turns you off?

Loud noises.
 5.What is your favorite curse word?

My new one is frexing. Thanks, Beth Revis!

6.What sound or noise do you love?

Birdsong

7.What sound or noise do you hate?

The sound my dog used to make when she was sleeping, licking her chops. Incessantly.

8.What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Is this a trick question? I'm attempting to be a writer.

9.What profession would you not like to do?

Anything Mike Rowe does. Except maybe the Ford commercials. Those are OK.

10.If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Welcome!

It was a dark and stormy blogfest...

I don't post on Tuesdays anymore, but Brenda Drake is holding a first line contest, so I thought I'd toss my name in the hat. :)  Here goes...

Name: Carolyn Snow Abiad
Title: Burnt Amber
Genre: YA Historical Fantasy

Seyhan led us up the serpentine streets of Bebek to an unimpressive building Alexis and I would never have found on our own.


Here's the first paragraph, because I saw some others post theirs...

Seyhan led us up the serpentine streets of Bebek to an unimpressive building Alexis and I would never have found on our own. From the outside, it looked like any ordinary backstreet coffeehouse.  The faded lime green stucco façade was punctuated by worn, wooden window frames and over the door hung a crooked hand-scribbled sign with the name of the shop.  Few people went in or out, but all of them were well-heeled customers.  An odd smell of freshly roasted coffee, mixed with dusty wool and candle smoke wafted out into the street. 

Monster Mash Blogfest

Image via WikipediaRoh Morgon is hosting Monster Mash all this week, so I came up with a little something....

I know where he is. He's in the linen closet next to the guest bedroom, with all the crafty things I never have time to finish. Whenever I walk past, his icy fingers reach out after me and a chill races up my spine.

The cat scratches at the door sometimes, as if she too knows he's hidden in there. I hope my kids don't find out. If I ignore him, maybe he'll decide to go haunt someone else's closet, but deep down I know he's waiting for me...only me.

Some nights he rattles around so loud that I can't sleep. Then I lie awake and pity him, his hard skin imprisoned under layers that bind, bleeding puddles of black, tangled up in promises unkept. He torments me and we are both frozen in time, until someone frees me in the morning.

It goes on like this for weeks, months...and then I've had enough of his demented moaning. Like the dumb blonde in a horror film, running toward destruction instead of away, I open the closet door.

He's there, quiet, anticipating my next move.  Loose ends catch hold of my arm while his vile, ink-soaked strips seek to bind me, dragging me into his immoral embrace. I struggle, grasping the widest piece covered with rambling prose and pull desperately 'til I feel his weakness. Then I think I'm stronger, but when I finally unsheath his depraved grin, I can't look away. My knees collapse under me and I fall for the villain I love to hate. Every time.


So fellow writers, how do you draft your villains?

Animal Writes Blogfest

Image via WikipediaI need a break from all the serious around here lately and luckily, Dayana Stockdale is hosting the Animal Writes blogfest today. So without further ado, here's nothing to do with my WIP - a short piece about my dear friend, the house wren. Troglodytes Aedon.

The Cardinal in the wax myrtle across the yard sounds the alarm with two shrill notes.  Squirrels scamper into the hedgerow for cover and I crouch low in the leaves.  I stay perfectly still, camouflaged in the mottled brown litter around me with only a few small branches of a bush turned bright autumn red above. Too exposed. My heart hammers in my chest, high and fast like a hummingbird.

His shadow circles on the ground a few feet away from me, then the hawk dives into the high grass at the edge of the lawn, where I'd been a minute before. He spreads his wings out over the catch. 

The hawk is alone, so after a few minutes of quiet, the Jay gets bold and starts to pester him. None of us like his kind in our neighborhood. Only the Jay is stupid enough to let him know it. Hawk looks up from his kill and lets out a piercing cry. He's annoyed but he takes the hint. The field mouse hangs limp in his claws as he flies away. He won't go far, just up into the trees on the ridge. 

I shake out my feathers and fly up to the firethorn besider the shed, where I can preen the leafmould out of me. Methodically, I select one long feather after another. Then I run down the length of each one with my beak until every filament is properly placed. I jab at a passing wood louse who disappears between the cedar shakes. His friend isn't as lucky.

The sun is already listing to the west, skimming the treeline and turning the sky shades of honey and raspberry. My mate trills out his lovely song, calling me from the poplar near the house. He's hopping around from branch to branch, with his tail feathers stuck straight up in the air. I know he's hoping for a gecko to reveal itself in the flower boxes. The larger birds are flitting over to the birdbath for a quick drink before they settle in.  It's a good idea, but I opt for a smaller puddle in the granite stone under the birch, where I'm safer.

Then I fly up to the gauze curtain on the gazebo. For the past three years we've summered there each evening. Except when the people have parties, then we find an unoccupied branch in the bush and take our chances with Owl. Tonight there's no one about so we each tuck into our fold of fabric and I turn my head under my wing, waiting for the tree frogs to lull me to sleep.