A Creative Social Media Mix

There are Indie Authors out there who will swear up and down and left and right that Social Media - and Facebook in particular - is a major distracting factor for a new writer. There is always another post to put out there. More potential readers are out there! And there are always the fun videos of cats to share, right? But the novel still needs to get written at some point.

It depends on what stage in the new authors career that they are in to determine how much social media time is necessary. A new unpublished writer, who is working on their first novel will not need much Social Media time at all, if any. Sure, that writer could create an author page, enlist followers, and try to generate excitement for a (first novel, mind you) so everyone will also be taking a big grain of salt, if they listen at all.

The *earliest* point that an author should start on the Social Media bandwagon is after the release of the first novel. Why would you market before you have a product to sell?

And then, of course, comes the questions about using Social Media for Independent Authors. Where does the balance come? How much is too much? Or how little is too little?

Social Media time will grow and expand on its own, in congruent with your Author Career. A properly managed Facebook page can be a mirror of the author's career. It's a lot more than paid promotions to gather likes - it's also analyzing the posts to see how well the author connects with his or her audience.

How many likes are non-promoted posts receiving? How many comments and posts to page are there?

That is how one can tell whether an audience is engaged or not. An audience that is not engaged is most likely bought through Facebook likes, however, that's ok. Everyone needs to start somewhere, and once an author or brand has  the means to promote and get likes that way, I am all for it. Because more likes on a page says to a potential person who is browsing the page, that, if there are a lot of likes, there must be something good about it, right?

But diving deeper into the page, beyond the likes, to see the engagement, is where one can really tell if the author is successful or not. The first step is having current followers liking individual posts. Are they at least reading your posts? If they like it, they like what you are posting, and care to some degree. Analyze your posts that way.

Are they commenting? Great! Any comments, positive or negative, should be welcome. They are engaged!

But what about the writer? Can't managing Social Media be a full time job?

It sure can. I know people who have been hired at 40-hour per week jobs simply managing Social Media sites for a company. So where does the writer find the balance?

It's in #Writestorm. And I will tell you all about it in my next post. Enjoy your day, everyone.

A Blog Hop for All Seasons

I was given the distinct honor of being invited to this blog hop by author Valerie Douglas. 

Valerie has been a mentor for about a year now. I ran across her in the Indie Author Group- a group that I had initially joined a while back on a whim, but Valerie took notice of me. She had told me that I posted great questions in the group, and had some good comments, and a few months later, asked if I could be a moderator of the site.

Valerie is a prolific genre-crosser. Some of her novels, such as A Convocation of Kings have been best sellers, as well as my personal favorite, Shades .  She has proven to be a great friend and mentor, and I look forward to years of sharing inspiration and advice.

I'm author A.L. Mengel  and the author of this blog. Below is a brief biography, found online.

"A.L. Mengel is a Paranormal Fiction writer and blogger. His novels and stories have each been called a "complex examination of relationships" with strong anti-heros. His works address issues of alcoholism, intolerance, grieving and death, fear of the afterlife, and the journey for understanding, among others. His protagonists, some of which are angels and demons, are frequently found on a search for purpose or transformation, which are recurring themes in his stories.  

Mengel grew up reading Stephen King and Anne Rice, two of his favorite authors. He first found a love of writing upon taking a Creative Writing class in High School - but did not become a more serious writer until becoming an Arts and Entertainment Editor in Philadelphia, and later while taking another Creative Writing class where he was inspired to complete his first novel. More recently, he has connected and interacted with his readers via "The Writing Studio" where he shares his writing methods and inspiration. He enjoys time with his two dogs and two cats, and loves to write outdoors as much as possible."

 

 

 

The questions below are my answers, but I wanted you to be aware of who invited me to this honor! I am the author of Ashes -published by Parchman's Press -  which is A.L. Mengel's debut novel as well as the first of a series called "The Tales of Tartarus".

1) What am I working on?

2014 has shaped up to be a very busy year for the A.L. Mengel brand. The release date of October 28, 2014 for The Quest for Immortality has been officially announced. In addition, Parchman's Press will be making more of a foothold this year. There are also other works in progress which can be found on A.L.'s author page or at A.L.'s Website.

2) How does your work differ from others in the genre?

Ashes takes readers deep into the astral plane - otherwise known as the quantam realm - where spirits exist - and where other dimensions are found. In addition, the story has a powerful message of forgiveness. The novel addresses real-life issues as well.

3) Why do I write what I do? 

I write what I do because I write about what I like to read about. I grew up reading Anne Rice, Stephen King and Clive Barker. Their stories inspired me, and I found my own voice and my own style.

4) How does my writing process work? 

Although I wish to live in the mind of a writer 24/7, I am not quite at that stage yet. I still juggle "real-life" between writing sessions.  Still, I have a process on my writing days. I like to take care of any household chores in the morning so they can be off my mind. I typically like to go out for some creative stimulation (aka lunch and a beer) at mid day - and I always take my tablet with me in case I am inspired to write. Then, I return home in the afternoons and let it pour out. Or it doesn't pour out. Every day is not a 20 or 30 page day for a writer. I find myself "taking it all in" as often as I can.


Happy Writing!

Visit and interact with A.L. Mengel at:

www.facebook.com/authoralmengel

www.almengel.com

Being a Writer can be a lonely job

Every time I open the fridge, it stares back at me.

It's the label for the Gossett Champagne bottle; its golden foil, wrapped around the bottle that rises from the other beverage choices like a beacon. Like a beacon of hope.

That one day, soon, that foil will be removed from the bottle - and the cork will be popped. To celebrate a new novel, or a story, or even a good review. But those celebrations can be fleeting.

For being a writer can be a lonely job.

We writers sit by ourselves, all day long, day after day, basically living in our minds. We develop characters and dream of worlds that you will find interesting...just so you will turn the next page, or buy the next book or see the next film.

But the champagne bottle...that holds a special significance to a lonely writer. Because he or she knows, that when that cork does come off, friends will be there. They won't be alone. And it will be a celebration. It will be a celebration of a dream being realized.

So my bottle is still sitting there, standing command over an army of beverages on the top shelf of the fridge. But the bottle has told me that the time is coming soon...it's coming soon for the cork to be popped and the bubbly to be enjoyed.

So turn that next page. Buy that next book. See that next film. For if you do, more champagne will sit in fridges across the world, and more corks will pop, and more stories and characters will come to life from a lonely writer who had a moment to celebrate.

Wanting to feel like a kid again...

I remember The Lady of The Dunes.

She's a ghost who haunts the beaches of Cape May, New Jersey. It was in that city, filled with it's quaint Victorian style houses, the kind that towered three stories over the street, hugging the shady oak canopy, that I remembered. They commanded a distinct presence in Cape May - their shadows cast upon narrow city streets lined with cars, peppered with lazy tourists, and laid back locals. The stately homes served as a reminder to the Cape May of yesteryear.

When I was much younger, I stood on the beach collecting Cape May "diamonds". They were small, translucent rocks that shimmered like diamonds. As a curious child, I loved Cape May - the point at the end of the small peninsula jutting off southern New Jersey, where I could collect diamonds and polish them and pretend they were of actual value; where I could see the sun sink into the water at the end of the day; where I could eat pancakes stuffed with fruit in one of the quaint Victorian houses that was transformed into a restaurant.

Then, just up the road from picturesque Cape May, is a striking contrast. Glittering casinos dot the skyline of Atlantic City. They rise above the water and cast a striking reflection of boisterous activity against the calm serenity of the sea. It was there, in Atlantic City, that I was born. Not physically, but in a different sense. Some of my first jobs were in that city, working for several of the casinos there.

Now, I have seen the devastation that has befallen these two cities on the New Jersey coast. I watch with the rest of the country in horror, at the decimation of the Atlantic City boardwalk, the toxic floods, and the homes that were literally just washed away. It's the New Jersey shore - the place with Wildwood rides, the boardwalks, the fantastic pizza, the lemon shake ups, the traffic jams, the great pancakes and the sand, sun and fun.

But the Lady of the Dunes is another thing. She is known to walk the beaches of Cape May. Maybe she was off that night the storm hit, or maybe she had no control over the event. I just know one thing: Cape May, Atlantic City, and the rest of the Jersey shore will emerge much better. You see, sometimes we have to nearly lose something to realize how strongly we feel for it. Look at New Orleans in 2005. We almost lost that city.

This is the same thing. Who doesn't love the Jersey shore? They will come back. They will get better. And the Cape May, the rides, the casinos, and everything that makes Jersey "Jersey" will be back, and welcoming us once again with boxes upon boxes of delicious salt water taffy.

And then, when I stand in the future, on the beach in Cape May, collecting diamonds, feeling the cool sand between my toes, I will look to the west, to the crimson sun dipping into the water, and feel like a kid all over again.

The Balancing Act

We all need balance in our lives.

I know, from years of working the hotel business, that it's easy to get away from that. Now, as a writer, I face the same balancing act - the same challenges that I did as a young professional working in a thankless, sixty hour a week job that barley scraped the bills by. The challenges are just coming from a different direction now - and I have to manage them a different way.

Years ago, writers had a lot more hurdles to scale before seeing their beloved masterpiece in print. They had to toil over a manuscript, sometimes for years, print it out (or worse yet, type it page at a time), and send it off (snail mail, remember that?) and wait for six weeks to several months or more to get a form rejection letter in the mail. Then, the process would start all over again until a publisher decided to accept the story. And that could be years.

After a publisher accepts the story, another year or two could pass before seeing the book on the shelves. Rewrites, reformats, etc... all would happen during that time. A proof would be made of the book, which the author would need to approve, etc etc etc...it eats away at time.

The rewards, of course, of going with traditional publishing, can be tremendous. As those publishers invest a substantial amount of money in the promotion of the newly accepted novel, it can pretty much expect to be a best seller. Or at least a decent seller. A writer could say, if their novel is accepted by Doubleday, they have crossed a major hurdle as a novelist. Publishers like Doubleday rarely accept anything that doesn't have best-seller written all over it. Of course, they are missing out on many fantastic stories that could be best sellers by being so selective.

But today, we have the beauty of the internet, online print-on-demand publishers, and social networking. Authors now have avenues to get their books in print - actual, physical books - and out to the public while bypassing the traditional publishers. The years long process of the past is now a thing of the past. The joy that authors feel - when they see their masterpiece listed on Amazon, Barnes and Noble...or better yet...in their hands for the first time...is a feeling that all authors can now experience, thanks to online self-publishing.

So that presents the new challenge to today's authors - otherwise known as "the balancing act". Today, we have the beauty of Facebook, and Twitter, and YouTube and all the other social networks to market our writing, to scream from the mountaintops that we wrote a novel! Please, please, please read it! And in some cases, the online networking leads to publishing house where the streets are paved with milk and honey....the New York Big Boys. But again, it's a balancing act. Those same engines distract a writer from exactly what they have been trying to do in the first place: write more books.

So, the balancing act. Each of us new authors scale the edge of that cliff; we tiptoe across that balancing wire to find our "zen zone" where we go back and forth between researching, writing new material, editing, and marketing what we already have finished. But the rewards come, as self fulfillment for the author and some fresh, fantastic stories for the reader.

So those that don't buy self-published works, those that don't take them as seriously, must keep in mind the passion that has gone into these self-published novels. Skipping over them for a more well-known name, like the big publishers do, could mean missing a fantastic story....written by a new, fresh-faced author - with a new vision - that could very well become the Anne Rice, Stephen King or John Grisham of tomorrow.

Everyone has to start somewhere. Please support the start up authors. The self-published novels of today are the best-sellers of the future; the same books that are being passed over will fuel tomorrow's films. Please support new authors for the art of the future!

Photo Credit: Rudicil Photography

Wild Horses, and how they contribute to the "Process"

Okay, enough posts about death...for the time being at least!

I know that most people opt not to think about that inevitable part of our lives, but death has been on my mind lately from some dreams that I have had (including one about my own death). However, it's mostly book research. A lot of people like to read about death and the Quantam Realm, and someone needs know something about that topic if it's going to be written about!

You are probably wondering where the title "Wild Horses" fits into all of this. It actually has quite a bit to do with what I am about to tell you. Susan Boyle, the "Britain's Got Talent" newfound star is performing a cover of "Wild Horses" by the Rolling Stones on Pandora. Here is the song here:
Susan Boyle sings Wild Horses..

So this song was playing on Pandora, and I typically have music on while I write. I find that the creativity behind music also stimulates my creative mind. And for all of you writers out there, here is a little snapshot of my process.

  
A little bit about my writing process

 

Every author has a different process. Toni Morrison writes her novels out longhand on yellow legal paper before typing them; Anne Rice researches a novel for 1-2 years before sitting down to write a word. And I "plant seeds" before birthing a book of novel length.

When I conceive a story, I start it, and write a chapter. If I feel that I need to tell more of the story right then, I will write another chapter or two, or an entire "opening sequence". Then, I put it away. I give the infant piece a page on my website, to keep it fresh in my mind, and let it marinate and grow. Some time later, I pick it up and continue it - and it's usually bit by bit. I have several novels that I am working on, and I may write a page or two here, or a page or two there, as the events in the story are revealed to me, to keep the content fresh, alive, and not "seemingly forced".

When I am further along in the process, such as with Shiva/Rebirth, I will revisit it more often as I am feeling inspired to carry the plot along in the novel. And then there is the editing and revising stage, where The Quest for Immortality is currently. In this stage, I print out 150 or so pages of the manuscript, and create an outline. I do some light editing, but that's not the most important part of this process. The most important part now is outlining the story , building the plot (tension/conflict), and developing a resolution.

At that point, the "holes" are filled in, and the novel is completed. Which brings me to Ashes:


This photo is a very rough printout from 2007, when this novel was first drafted. As you can see, there are notes and corrections, but, of course, this novel is now far from where it was in 2007, and is nearing a publication date. Ashes is furthest along in the process.

And the process just continues for each novel I write; soon, other novels I am working on will be in the stages of final drafting and editing. The process simply repeats itself.

But what you need to do, if YOU want to be a writer, is find the process that works best for you. I do most of my best writing outside the house, in a noisy and busy environment, usually having a beer. Then I edit and revise at home with coffee. That may work for me, but every writer is different.

So it's up to you to find what works best for you. I know that I am still finding what works best for me. And we all learn from the process!

Conversations with the Dead

Conversations with the dead happen on a daily basis.

More often than not, there are minute little details in your life, that present themselves in front of you, that could really be considered communication from beyond the grave - if you take the time to see the signs for what they are. Yesterday, I wrote about my grandmother, who I hadn't thought about for a while. Today, she thanked me for it.

Earlier in the day, I had been out running errands. While on the way to Target, I happened to be driving by someone from Michigan (in the state of Florida) and, since I had spent a good part of my life in Michigan, I took a closer look.

Lo and behold, the license plate frame had the same exact intersection where my grandmother's apartment building was. I thought it was uncanny! I made a mental note to call my mother about it as soon as I had parked the car.

"Mom!" I said, a tinge of excitement in my voice. "You are never going to believe this!"

"What is it?" she asked.

"I was just driving behind a car from Michigan! And the license plate frame had 14th and John R on it! That was where Grandma's apartment building was!"

"You have a good memory," she said. "Yes it was."

I continued to speak to my mother about what I had seen. What was profound about the conversation was not that I was following someone from Michigan, or that they had bought their car at a dealer that was located at the very same intersection that my grandmother had lived at while she was alive, it was why I had seen it.

"She was on your mind yesterday, since you were writing about her," my mother explained. "That was her way of giving you a nod, of letting you know that she knew you were thinking of her."

And so it hit me.

I understood the reason, I realized that I did speak with my grandmother today, in the way that you "speak" with the departed -- in small signs, little details in your life...telepathically. A feeling.

And when you look back on a situation, you understand so much more clearly.

Yes, I had a conversation with the dead today. My dead grandmother. And I see more clearly now how we keep those we have lost close to our hearts.

The Telephone Call

I am at a stage in my life right now where I am questioning everything.

When I was a child, I lived and acted on faith. I was raised in the Catholic Church, and went every Sunday without fail. All the teachings about life, and life after death, I believed in faith. I still hold the beliefs to this day, but lately have been asking myself if we just believe what we believe in just to make us feel better about dying.

And that led me to ask, is there really life beyond the grave?

When I was a young adult, I did not think much about spiritual matters, but since my teen years, I have had a deep fascination with the paranormal. I have never had any type of incident where a ghost appeared before me, or had a poltergeist that rattled chains in my attic, or anything that would prove to me that the supernatural realm even existed at all.

But I continue to pray, try to live righteously, attend church when I can, all while continuing my research into the paranormal realm. That fascination has fueled my writing in a big way; most of my novels are about paranormal topics, and an author that writes about supernatural fiction certainly must believe in the Quantum Realm? Yes?

So is there life after death? I can't really answer that one. I know what my beliefs are as a Catholic, but no one really knows for sure. I do know that I find comfort in believing that those in my family who have passed on are in a better place now, and watching over us.

I remember talking with my mother once about my grandmother, who had passed in 2003 due to complications of Alzheimer's disease. My grandmother spent her final days in a nursing home, pleased as punch to be "dating" several men on her floor, but failing to remember them moments after she left them. Talk about always having a giddy first date! My mother visited her every day, without fail.

One night, after my mother spent the evening with my grandmother, the phone rang at precisely 4:00AM. My mother answered it sleepily, thinking that the nursing home was calling for one reason or another. It was just static.

About an hour later, the phone rang again. This time it was the nursing home on a clear line.

My grandmother had passed away, about an hour previously.

When I talked with my mother, years later, about that phone call, I asked her what she thought the static filled call meant.

"Oh, that was grandma," she said with confidence. "I could feel it."

And I explained to my mother my thoughts on believing in the paranormal, how our souls move on after death.

"Oh yes," my mother said. "We most definitely go on, and it happens right after we die. When I received that call, I felt very deeply that it was your grandma, and that she we telling me that she was with Grandpa, and that she was okay."

"So she was checking in on you?" I asked.

She nodded. "She was letting me know that she was fine, and making sure that I was alright, before moving on."

Life beyond the grave.

We don't really know for sure what happens, but the little signs like this telephone call say that there definitely is something out there. Yes, there is life beyond the grave.

When we learn to accept death not as an end - but rather a transformation - we will further understand.

That they're all still okay.

On Loss, On Life

The other day, I came across a song from my past while listening to Pandora. It was "100 years" by Five for Fighting. It's really amazing how much differently I hear this song than when it came out in 2003. Back then I was almost 10 years younger than I am right now. And when I listened to the song for the first time in years the other day, it floored me at how profound the message truly is.

When this song came out in 2003, I lost three members of my family in the space of 12 months. None of the deaths were a major tragedy or a life cut short; but they were sad events nonetheless that were in rapid succession one after the other after the other. By the end of the year, the entire older generation of my family had passed on. My parents were now the family leaders. And when I look back at that period in my life, I feel that it changed me.

The first family member I saw lying in a casket was my paternal grandmother, who died in 1979. I remember standing on my tippy toes on the kneelers next to the casket, touching the body with my little fingers, asking if she were sleeping. Of course, she was not. I just didn't understand what death was, being only 3 years old.

In 2003, though, I knew what death was. At that point in my life, high school classmates of mine had already passed away. I was working in Miami, enjoying life, and then the call came. My father was on the phone, he sounded defeated. My grandfather had passed away. He had a heart attack and died while being brought to the hospital.

I remember the feeling that came over me a few days later, when they opened the doors to the viewing room at the funeral home in Michigan, and we all walked in to see our grandfather lying in his casket. When the initial wave of emotion passed at the first sight of the casket, it was replaced by a dull sadness. After we buried him, we all stood around and looked at my grandmother's grave, next to his. And it gave me peace to believe that they are together again.

A few months later, I got a tearful early morning call from my mother that my grandmother had passed away, her mother. This was a difficult time, as I remembered her very well, from the years that my grandmother had lived with us while we witnessed her decline with Alzheimer's Disease. I remember a sense of relief when she looked so peaceful in her casket, and I remember my uncle breaking down after commenting that my grandmother waited 38 years to be reunited with her love, my maternal grandfather, who passed away long before I was born.

I had begun to bounce back into my life when I got another call - that my step-grandmother had passed away, just four months after my maternal grandmother.

That was it.

She was the final living member of that generation of my family, and she had just died.

And she was a close friend of mine, who was my roommate for a few years.

It was a difficult funeral, not because she died young (she was 80) but because I never got to say goodbye to her. She had been diagnosed with lung cancer, and she went rather quickly. I knew she was sick, but suddenly she was gone. My last memories of her were of her gardening, watching horror movies with me on tv, and cooking dinner together. I was not prepared for her to be gone.

Those feelings returned when I listened to 100 years the other day. Not the feelings of sadness and loss - but different feelings. And it was amazing to me how differently I perceived the song at 35 as I had at 27. Now, I stop and listen, I let the lyrics resonate, and I look for the message and the meaning.

And I know that the message of this song is that life is fleeting. Every time we turn around, every time we blink, we will be in a new stage of our life. We have our hopes, our dreams and our naivety of our youth; which is replaced by the wisdom of our older years. The song taught me that while yes, life may be passing quickly, it taught me that life is a cycle. We go through changes, and we eventually pass on to the next life.

But still, even when we are gone, we are still here. We are still here in those that we left behind - in the new babies that our born each year, in the nieces and nephews that are graduating from high school, we are there in our siblings that raise their children with our blood and our genes and our mannerisms and our looks.

And once we have passed, we can look down from the heavens, looking down on our families, on the lives that continue to pass; we gaze on the cycle that continues again and again and again...and can say...

"I am still there."

An Unexpected Addition

I never thought, in all of my life, that I would spend several hours one day saving the life of an infant squirrel. But that happened to me just yesterday, and I honestly didn't comprehend what was happening at first when Tiny notified me of something wrong in the backyard. I didn't know, I was inside the house at the time.

But as I stepped outside to investigate, Tiny's big brown eyes looked up at me with concern.

"What's wrong Tiny?" I asked, as she whimpered.

She sniffed the dirt below her, pointing it out with her snout.

A baby squirrel, laying on its side in the dirt. So young that its eyes were still slits and not yet opened, so small that its little chest heaved up and down in terror. I looked up at the trees above, imagining a horrendous fall from the giant oak canopy two stories above, and I started to think that this poor unfortunate baby squirrel only had seconds left.

After putting the dog inside, I examined the infant more closely. His face was in the dirt, his mouth was full of sand, and he was shaking. Using a plastic shopping bag, I gingerly picked him up and put him on the patio table.

And that's when I knew that we were this little infant's only hope to survive.

I confided in my closest friend, called my mother, and tried to determine what to do with the little fella. I was concerned that the fall from the tree may have injured him internally and that he may expire any time now. My call to the vet yielded a stern "we don't look at squirrels" and calling the Wildlife organization was useless as well. We were on our own to help this guy.

But what happened next is really the makings of miracles.

We took the little infant squirrel and placed him in a small box (a box that you generally get checks in - he was that small) and insulated it with little leaves. After giving him some shredded lettuce and sugar water, he started to come around.

And started to call for his mother, a tiny shrill scream, over and over.

He had difficulty navigating the raised sides of the box, and of course he couldn't see, but he managed to muster the energy, after some time had passed, was able to call for help.

And that's when my friend suggested to leave him be, and sent an excellent site on the care of infant squirrels: Squirrel Tales".

Getting dinner prepared, thoughts started to enter my head, since his situation seemed less dire. Would he imprint himself on us? Would we now have a wild squirrel as part of the family?

And for a while, we did.

We tried to determine what would be best for him, how he might survive the night, and we kept an anxious Tiny from going outside to relieve herself - at least for a little while - so the little guy could have a little peace and quiet to gather his senses and call for his mother.

And then, just as we were about to start eating dinner, it happened.

I looked outside, and saw the box. I saw the leaves, the lettuce we had shredded for him, and the tiny soda cap of sugar water was tipped over.

"Nim", our little pet that we had named for just a few hours, had been saved by his mother.

And that short time, that brief time of having an additional pet, has confirmed thoughts of why animals comes into our lives. Mehki came as a tiny, skinny and hungry black and white tuxedo kitten, meowing incessantly and latching onto us immediately. He grew into the healthy and lovable cat that he is today.

Song called to us for help about two years later. We were looking for a cat at the time, as a friend for Mehki, and we were at the Humane Society. That's the place were un-adopted cats and dogs are put down. Well, Song, whose original name was "Sun", looked right at us and winked. And we knew he was asking for us to pick him.

And we did.

And then of course there's Tiny, who bounced into our lives a year and a half ago as a little puppy, who has grown into a large, protective and loving dog who we wouldn't trade for the world.

And then there's Nim.

We only had him for a few hours.

But they were critical hours of his life; they were hours that would have decided whether he lived or died. And it was when looking back at the time, knowing that he was sent to us for a reason. He fell out of that tree at that precise moment and that precise time, right in our backyard, because we were there to help him to ensure that he could live.

And that's why he came into our lives.

He came into our lives so he could live, and we were meant to save his life. And, because we were called to rescue him, he now can live as he was meant to be.

And maybe one day, an adult squirrel will dash down from the giant oak trees above, run across the top of the fence, closer to the patio, and we will look up.

His head will cock to the side, his eyes wide, his arms holding a nut, and he will tilt his head, and skitter away.

Some Vivaldi and How Bagpipes Make Us Cry

Today is Sunday. I am in a spiritual mood...maybe not because it's Sunday, maybe I am in that mood because I feel that I am a spiritual person.

I try to attend Church when I can - I was raised a Catholic and I still believe in the teachings to this day. But, I got out of the habit of going to Church when I entered the hotel business and routinely worked late Saturdays and Sundays, and I just never got back into the habit of going to Church.

I am listening to Vivaldi's Magnificat.

This speaks to me spiritually. Make sure to have your volume turned up, and you will see what I mean.

Music brings us together, it unites the masses, whether a concert, church service or wedding, we all live our lives through music.

Music brings us together at funerals too. I remember when "Amazing Grace" was played on bagpipes at my Uncle's funeral. I had kept it together until that moment.

Music speaks to our souls.

It soothes us in our time of pain, it excites us when we are starting a new beginning...and it helps us remember those events in our life that have passed and those people in our lives that have passed on.

And when the bagpipes play, that's when it hits home:

Click this video and listen. Have your computer speakers turned up. Think of your lost loved ones, and it will make you cry. (It takes a few seconds to get started).

Why do bagpipes make us cry? Is it their simplicity? Their tragic way of presenting a Hymn that is already a tearjerker?

Is it because they are typically played at funerals, memorials, and other solemn moments?

Bagpipes make us cry just for those reasons!

They pull at our heartstrings because they are just that...so simple. They represent lives lost, and force us to remember.

The Solitary Writer and a Cylical Life

Being a writer can be a lonely job. Especially a novelist.

For hours, sometimes days, the novel writer sits alone, without human contact, staring at a computer screen, sometimes drinking coffee, other times drinking alcohol, thinking about fictional characters doing made up things in made up worlds.

It can be quite isolating. And it can lead to social problems - some of the most brilliant novelists out there are also the most eccentric (and, without much surprise, are most prone to substance abuse). Who out there hasn't heard of an alcoholic writer? Quite a few writers drink when they write. "It opens the creative mind," they claim. Or maybe it's just because they like to drink?

Beer chugging novelists aside, what I really have been thinking about is how life tends to be present itself in cycles - our economy rises and falls in cycles, we leave school, leave home, enter the workforce, and then return home and return to school in another cycle. We are born, mature, grow older, and die in yet another cycle.

The latest cycle presented to me was an email that I received this week. A literary agency in New York would like to read a few pages from my first novel, Ashes, which I have been shopping for a few years now. My heart racing with excitement, I call just about everyone I can. The general consensus is to rewrite the beginning that evening.

So, I spend that subsequent evening writing a new scene - and a new synopsis. And now...after working on several other novels, other projects have been suspended to work on my first novel once again. The cycle continues.

And now I am dressing up my first manuscript - the one that I thought I had put away - changing the suit I dressed it in last year to a tuxedo - in hopes that the email or phone call will come with more interest in my work.

My fight for a career in novel writing has continued; it has taken a step forward...I just might be one step closer to that isolating life of a novelist.

Or, at the very least, my first novel now has a great new beginning!

Tastes of the South

Southern deep-fried delights rarely conjure up thoughts of healthy eating.

I don't eat fried foods very often - it usually only happens when dining out. But these days, dining out has become such a luxury, that I hardly remembered the last time that I ate true fried food.

But it's such a traditional part of the South, and there are some great southern dishes that tantalize the tastebuds. Problem is, when eaten in a restaurant, they also drain your wallet, raise your blood pressure, and expand your waistline.

What's the solution?

Bring the restaurant home! By preparing your own "restaurant style" dishes at home, you can have the control you need to keep the food as healthy as possible, as well as preparing it as simply as possible.

Today's recipe is a dual dish: Fried Dill Pickles and Thick-Cut Fried Onions

Here is what you will need:

(1) Jar of your favorite brand of Dill Pickles
(1) SWEET Onion (the sweetest you can find - the sweeter the better)
Worcestershire Sauce
Sour Cream
Garlic Ranch Dressing
Garlic Powder
All-Purpose Flour -- PKU and Gluten-free visit www.cambrookefoods.com for special flours to use.
Salt and Pepper

Cut 1 or 2 of the full size dill pickles into crescents (about 1/4" thick) and cut the onions into thick round wheels (make sure to peel the skin off).

In the meantime, put about 1 cup of flour in a small mixing bowl; add garlic powder, salt and pepper and mix thoroughly. Put aside.

In another small mixing bowl, add about 2T of Worcestershire Sauce, 1/4 cup Sour Cream, and 2T Garlic Ranch Dressing.

Heat your oil of choice in a deep pot - deep so the oil does not splash up and get everywhere. Use enough oil to completely submerge the food when frying.

Take a few pickles and coat them with the flour mix. Then transfer them to the dressing mix, coat, and then put back in the flour and coat again. Drop them in the hot oil until they are golden brown. Drain on a paper towel.

Repeat the process until the pickles are gone, and then repeat the process with the onion wheels.

A great snack, and great for guests!! When frying, keep in mind that this is an eggless version - if you choose to add eggs to the dressing, the breading will hold better.

PKU - keep in mind the Ranch and Sour Cream will count towards your Dairy allotments.
Hypertension - Keep in mind this is overall low sodium. Not with all the added salts and high sodium spices that restaurants use. You can omit the salt or use sea salt for a lower sodium version. Using half-sour pickles instead of kosher dills will lower the sodium even more.
Diabetes - very low sugar dish
Gluten-Free - Use Gluten-Free flours from www.cambrookefoods.com

** Please note that, because this is a fried dish, it has a high fat content, and should be enjoyed on occasion, not daily. When choosing your frying oil, make sure that the label reads the following or better per serving:

Saturated Fat - 10% or less daily value per serving
Trans Fat 0% (this is the DEADLY fat that has been outlawed in many areas)
Cholesterol 0% (avoid cholesterol to avoid Heart problems!)
Sodium 0% (Don't add sodium with your frying oil! There is plenty in the food itself!)
Protein 0% (PKU - Don't add more protein with your oil. Keep the dish friendly!)

Spuds Central

Okay...so all of you like potatoes, right? I mean, they're extremely healthy - don't believe all that South Beach mumbo jumbo about how they have too many carbs. Sure, they have carbs - don't get me wrong. But they're healthy carbs! And healthy carbs do a body good!

I think all of us like breakfast potatoes - the warm and mealy potatoes, the zesty onions, some peppers and...yum!

It's not news that potatoes can be prepared in many different ways - and it's not news that the skins are the healthiest part of the potato, right? So then, why do we peel them?

I implore you all - WASH your potatoes - take a look at what Wisegeek.com reported about potato skins:

"Potato skins store many nutrients and also contain a lot of fiber, which is essential for a healthy diet. Leaving the potato skins on also helps preserve the nutrients in the flesh of the potato, which have a tendency to escape during cooking. Based on a 2000 calorie diet, a large baked potato, including the skin, has 278 calories. Only 3 of these calories are from fat. A baked potato contains only 1% of the fat allowance considered as part of a healthy diet, with 0% of this being saturated fat."

Only 3 calories from fat!

So once you have cut your potatoes to your desired shape, choose your weapon: mine is a large, seasoned wok. Heat oil or melt butter (oil is better for a wok) and add the potatoes. The trick now is to turn the heat down - you don't want to burn your potatoes. The secret is slow cooking. They will take time, and you will need to taste one to determine if its done. It's not an exact science.

During the cooking process, add your spice: again, to taste. No exact quantities here. My spices of choice are garlic powder, sea salt, pepper, and a blend of italian herbs. Don't overdo it on the garlic - it has a tendency to burn, so add it later on in the cooking process.

And there you have it! A wonderfully healthy, filling breakfast dish that's high in fiber and GOOD carbs - which are necessary for that one thing that we all need - energy!

No Party Needed

Draft beer and eating for health don't really seem like they go hand in hand - rather, they appear to be an oxymoron. But there is health to be found here. Yes, I said it right, we can drink to our health! But first, I want to post my review of the Miller Lite Home Draft system. I am reviewing it because I picked it up at the grocery store today on a whim, and since this system seems to be entering more and more markets across the country, I deemed it appropriate. Or it could be that the men in my family view Miller Lite as mother's milk!

Most people buy home kegs for a big party - they are usually big, bulky, extremely heavy, difficult to tap, and generally have an overly foamy, sometimes-flat tasting beer.

Miller Lite says no more!

I was so excited to see the sexy box staring back at me in the beer aisle of my local supermarket. I had been waiting - since Coors Lite made a feeble attempt in 2008 to make a home keg similar to Heineken's. The price in 2008 was right - just $7.99 on sale - but the result wasn't that great. The beer was sometimes flat, mostly foamy, and just tasted a little "off".

MillerCoors has a much better attempt with the Home Draft. Many have said that it looks like a soda bottle on steroids - and they are right. It's short, stumpy, and fat - but thankfully does not take up much more space than an 18 pack in the fridge.

And...it poured a GREAT tasting beer! Tasting the golden brew, I noted it tasted just like at a well tended bar (with clean draft lines) just like Miller has advertised. They got that part right.

What they didn't get right was the CO2 system. It was VERY difficult to get the beer flowing - right up to the point that I almost left to return the keg to the store for a new keg or a refund.

But something told me to try one last time. So I got online, and searched for forums about the Miller Lite Home Draft kit. I found one. But I learned that I needed to take the tip of a knife and press a tiny button to release the flow of CO2. And after that minor setback, I had free flowing, great tasting beer!

Now there is the possibility that I could have had a defective tap. It seemed like using the tip of a knife was somewhat unconventional. But I was definitely not the only one to have this problem, since I learned online that the knife is a solution. I think Miller needs to rethink that one.

So to sum it up, here is a list of the pros and cons:

PROS

Fits nicely in fridge
High quality draft beer at home
Great for parties
Can have "just a sip" of beer if that's all you want
Beer stays cold and fresh, no can taste or over carbonation

CONS

Price (priced too high for too little of beer - $18.99 for just 1.5 gallons)
Ease of setup (directions are initially confusing, but the CO2 scores low in my book)
Beer foams too much - takes a few tries to get the hang of pouring it (after two glasses or so of foam). Still, there is too much head on every beer.


Miller Lite has made a great freshman effort into the Draft Beer market. I think that overall, they really won on the quality of their beer - they just need to work out the kinks with the packaging. And please! Lower the price!!

But it's a great keg to have an occasional (or daily) beer from and have that great, restaurant style draft beer taste at home. It's a great push for MADD! And one thing is for sure - like I said above, kegs usually are reserved for parties, lots of people, large houses with a bar and draft beer system - but with the Miller Lite Home Draft kit, there most certainly is no party needed!

Overall grade: B-

A Step Into the Past...

The other night, a very important person in my life took me out to see a movie at a Drive In Movie Theatre. It was something that I had never done before, and it turned out to be an experience that I will not soon forget.

It was a memorable experience because it was such a different way to see a movie! It was like we took a step back in time. We drove up to a little window that was like a fast food drive thru window, purchased the tickets, and then followed a narrow, dark path that wound through the unknown (there were no lights as there were a sea of gigantic theatre screens to our left) and stumbled upon a small concessions shop that looked like a convenience store.

Search for a Drive-In near you here

Concessions Freedom!

Looking out into the darkness, one could see giant screens in the distance, each lit up, in action, playing a different film. People would come and go from the concessions shop, with armloads of popcorn, sodas and candy, and walk back to their cars to enjoy the movie...And so the movie started...we tuned in our radio, reclined our seats, and took in the flick, all while the moon stared down at us from above.

It was like taking a step into the past: