Friday, September 30, 2011

Are you connecting?

A bit long at 20 minutes, this poignant and funny talk by Brene Brown provides insights into how writers can connect with readers by expanding perceptions.




Likewise, J.J. Abrams entertains and enlightens in this 18-minute talk that delves into his love of unseen mystery, the driving force behind the creation of the TV series Lost, Cloverfield and Alias.



Thursday, September 29, 2011

New cover for Tonight You Belong to Me!

Woot! How cool is this cover? I'm so excited for this story, I can't wait till it's released as part of Decadent Publishing's 1NS series.

Here's a peek at the (as yet unedited) blurb:
Danny O’Malley’s screwed. The love of his life, Jillian Jones, tossed him out, thinking he’d cheated. They’d moved to Las Vegas together, hoping to find their big break at the Castillo Resort. Now he’s in deep with a loan shark to pay for the 1NS date with Jilly, his last chance to win her heart again.

Jillian Jones wants to see Sin City – in her rearview mirror. Agreeing to a blind 1NS date as a favor to a friend on her last night in Las Vegas, she melts when Danny plays their song: Tonight You Belong to Me. Thinking one night reliving the past won’t hurt, she ends up in bed with Danny. But when two thugs break in demanding money, Jilly finds she might go out with a bang in an unexpected way. Can she save him, and their relationship?

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Visiting with Angela Guillaume today

I hope you'll pop over and say hi! Angela has a beautiful blog, and is fun to hang out with. So come on over! :)

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Two new contracts!

In the mood for a little trip down the Vegas strip? I am! I am over the moon. When I learned of Decadent Publishing's 1NS series, it sounded so fun, I had to write one. Well, I found it a little bit addicting, so one turned into two.


I was ecstatic to get the emails last week saying Decadent loved my stories too! The first, Tonight You Belong to Me, is a contemporary inspired by the song of the same name. I'm also addicted to Eddie Vedder's Ukelele Songs and his version of the song with Cat Power is so bittersweet. But I'll let you judge:





*sigh* Even with no graphics, it's wonderful, isn't it? Tonight You Belong to Me's heroine is a sassy Southern girl, not unlike my wonderful mother-in-law Grace, to whom I'm going to dedicate the story. Her verve and feistiness always inspired me. :)


The second story's a fantasy with some historical and time travel elements. A Hard Day's Knight gives a little nod to my Beatles obsession from my youth, as well as my love of Arthurian tales. Along with Tolkien, I loved reading books like The Once and Future King about Arthur and Merlin. This story centers on Lancelot and Guinevere and the evil sorceress Morgan le Fay. Set in modern day, it still throws in some medieval magic. It was such a lot of fun to write!



Have you checked out Decadent's 1NS series yet? The stories all look fantastic!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Seventh Heaven an EPIC Award finalist!

Woo hoo! I nearly didn't enter this story, because I'd re-released it after the rights returned to me from The Wild Rose Press. But Seventh Heaven's a wonderful little story, set in the Sixties in my hometown of Lambertville/New Hope. And now it's a 2012 EPIC Award finalist! I'm so proud of it! 


Reviewers have called it “a wonderful story”; “an uplifting romance set in a turbulent, unique time period. I did not want it to end”; “a read that will leave you on the edge of your seat. The deep and powerful setting of this story had me wiping away tears while cheering James on”;  and “This book brought about emotions that I found refreshing. Cate Masters is a gifted writer who wrote this book with talent and marvelous imagery. I could almost see, taste, hear and touch what was occurring in "Seventh Heaven." If you are looking for a book with a wonderful plot that is very well written as well as being entertaining, "Seventh Heaven" is the book for you.”


For the trailer, I photographed my hometown of Lambertville, NJ and New Hope, PA (twin towns, separated by the Delaware) because that’s the setting for the story. A cool place, even before the Sixties. :) 

The image on the new book cover, above, is also a light from the bridge spanning Lambertville and New Hope.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Death's paramour - the angel Azrael

Another Six Sentence Sunday! Yay! Thanks to everyone who visits, and especially for your comments. 

Here's another peek at Death Is A Bitch, now making the submission rounds. According to The Dictionary of Angels, Azrael is the patron angel associated with the process of death and dying. Affairs in the workplace can be complicated, but Death can't resist Azrael:


Their intense feelings caused the universe to react by churning up its own excitement.

Azrael held her closer, his hands exploring everywhere, and clouds rushed together to roil in a heated embrace. She wrapped herself around him, opened herself to him and the winds swept hot air crashing into cold.  Desire sizzled through her, and lightning crackled through the charged atmosphere. They moved with the rhythm of his wings, beating faster and faster as they streaked as one through the black night. Glimmering stars swirled past, and the planets hummed in delight.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Banned Books Week kickoff!

Tomorrow begins Banned Books Week! I find it unbelievable that others still attempt to control what we're able to read. So in the spirit of banning banned books, let's all read one!

I'm part of the Banned Books Week Blog Hop, hosted by I Am A Reader, Not A Writer. Thanks so much for putting this blog hop together, Kathy! When I last checked, more than 200 blogs had signed up, each with a giveaway or some sort of information about Banned Books Week.


I'm celebrating with a giveaway of the set of Twilight books, on the list of challenged reads for several years. NOTE: This giveaway's open to U.S. residents only, sorry.

To enter, all you need to do is comment on this post, and be sure to leave your email address so I can contact you if you win. The blog hop runs through Oct. 1, so I'll announce a winner on Oct. 2.


You can find lists of books challenged by year here.

You can find more information at the Banned Books Week site, or at the American Library Association

 

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Happy birthday, Bilbo and Frodo!

I don't know how I've missed this all these years. I'm a huge Tolkien fan, and couldn't get enough of The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion when I became a teenager. 

Apparently, others have celebrated September 22 as Hobbit Day, and the corresponding week as Tolkien week, for decades. Bilbo and Frodo's shared birthday, September 22 is the date of The Long Awaited Party.

I hated the cartoon version, so waited anxiously for Peter Jackson's movie version to come out, ready to declare it a sacrilege against the trilogy. Thankfully, it was amazing. Aragorn and Legolas especially, lol.  In some ways, it's a shame, because Tolkien's works are best experienced through reading. 

What about you? Are you a Tolkien fan?

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Blog award

I have to admit to being a terrible award recipient. I love the idea of blog awards but my time online's so limited these days, it's a challenge to keep up with them. 


But LD Masterson was so kind in awarding my blog The Irresistibly Sweet Blog award, I'll pass it along. 

Rules: 

1. Thank and link to the person who nominates you - Thanks so much, LD Masterson! LD has a wonderful blog - you should check it out. 

2. Share seven random facts about you - Here they are - hope they don't put you to sleep:

I love to experiment in the kitchen but rarely do because my family's so picky. However, I occasionally will spring a new dessert on them (hey, if they don't like it, more for me! There's a method to my madness, bwahaha). In fact, that award button's making me hungry right now.

I could write until the day I die and still not finish everything I want to do. In fact, my muse will probably continue to toss ideas at me post-mortem. Maybe that will be my hell.

I love love love to be in exotic places, but hate to travel. Quite the conundrum.

I think it's important to challenge myself. There's a great saying: Do one thing every day that scares you. Except bungee jumping. I see no benefit in that, but plenty of bruising.

The older I get, the more afraid of heights I am. Not sure why, as I have no more common sense now than when I was ten and jumped off my parents' roof. Luckily, we lived in a rancher, not a three-story home. Or the top floor of an apartment building.

Most of my career has centered around media-related jobs - I've worked for an online political news site owned by AP, was the Membership and Member Services Director for the state newspaper association for many years, and briefly wrote as a freelance journalist.


The above, coupled with the fact that I attended Catholic school for the first eight grades, explains why I'm such a stickler (yep, I'm anal) for grammar and spelling. Math, not so much.

3. Pass this award to five new blogging friends -
And here they are:

Susan Kelley/Gourley

 
Arlene Webb


Barbara Elsborg

Chrystalla Thoma


DL Jackson

(Sorry about the weird spacing. Blogger's such a bugger these days. I tried to fix it, I really did.)

4. Contact and congratulate the awarded bloggers - I'll rely on their web alerts to do that, so if they don't reciprocate, that's okay too. But I heartily encourage you to check out each and every one of the awardees.


But seriously, as of today, I'm making it official. This blog is an award-free zone. Your comments are award enough! I do appreciate your kindness, though, and hope you'll stop by to say hi often. :)


Monday, September 19, 2011

Romancing Your Dark Side

Magical words, aren't they? I love dark paranormal/fantasies. If you crave the same, you'll want to check out the Author Spotlight this week, because I have the Romancing Your Dark Side Author Tour right here! A different author each day to rock the Author Spotlight all week!


The rest of the week, visit with Amber Scott, Jamie Magee, Stacey Kennedy, A. Jacob Sweeny, Kristie Cook, and BK Walker.

The authors will be giving away a virtual gift basket full of ebooks, swag, and some other goodies, with the drawing on Sept. 25. Please make sure to leave an email address with your comments so they know how to contact you if you win.

Plus the tour continues after this week, so you can follow until October 31.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Meet Death for SSS

Thanks to everyone who visits each week! I truly appreciate it, and especially your comments.

Here's another peek at Death Is A Bitch, now out on submission.

She needed no introduction. They always knew her, unmistakable in the glimmering black filament gown that clung to her curves, its folds revealing a glimpse into infinity.
The stilettos usually earned a second glance, four inch heels and glistening like fool’s gold. The butterfly tattoo spanning her upper arm likewise drew curious looks, which inevitably changed to horror when the souls recognized the face imprinted within that colorful ink: their own.

Smooth and luscious, her olive skin set off her wide-set, almond-shaped eyes, with irises black as obsidian. Staring into those eyes, some said they could see eternity.


Oops, I realized too late I included the shoes too early, I shouldn't have shown you in the last SSS - here they are again. :)

Check out Six Sentence Sunday for an amazing array of awesome snippets! Have a great week.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

4-star review for The Magic of Lavender

I happened across this wonderful review on Goodreads - the Pen and Muse rated The Magic of Lavender 4 stars!

Roane, the reviewer, said:

The Magic of Lavender is a lovely paranormal romance that taps into everyone’s love of magic and soul mates.
Jocelyn is surrounded by magic because she is related to the goddess Iris. But she turned away from the world of magic because her late husband disapproved. Now, she has a new lease on life: she has bought an inn and intends to turn it into a success story, surrounding it with fields of lavender.
Although the story moves really fast at first and it takes the reader a while to get into the fast flow, Jocelyn, her friends and family are likeable characters; so is the town’s resident veterinarian, Eric, with whom Jocelyn feels a tenable connection.
The tension between Jocelyn and Eric is the element in the story that creates the most anticipation, conjuring images of passion and love that every person longs for. Cate’s writing is sensuous and inspiring, and the flow of the plot becomes so smooth that you cannot wait to find out how the story ends, and whether Eric and Jocelyn are truly meant for each other.
This read is fast and fun, and inspires one with a feeling of the possibility of love.

Thanks so much Roane! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. 

Friday, September 16, 2011

Good news and bad news

The revised and reissued Wilderness Girl is finally available on Amazon. The good news is that Amazon's now paying more attention to new releases to verify that the person uploading the ebook is actually the author or holds the publishing rights, which means better protection against fraudulent releases. 

The bad news is the process does take a little bit longer now. Thank goodness Marci Baun of Freya's Bower, the former publisher of Wilderness Girl, was extremely prompt in verifying to Amazon that the rights had indeed returned to me. Marci's been great throughout my publishing experience. And honestly, Amazon was still fairly fast about releasing it. It took an extra two days, but in my opinion, time well worth it.



Thursday, September 15, 2011

Robert McKee's Story Seminar

One day I hope to take Robert McKee's Story seminar when it passes through NYC. For now, I have to content myself with video snippets posted on You Tube.

Here's Mr. McKee discussing story design


and setting

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Congrats to the winners!

Congrats to Lieder Madchen, who won the ebook of Dead to Rights, the giveaway during Authorpalooza at Lor Mandela's blog.

The Magic of Lavender ebook, my giveaway for the Romance Junkies Summer Splash, went to Ashley Applebee.

Congrats guys! I hope you enjoy your reads. :)

I also promised Ashley a beaded book thong. I tore through so many boxes looking for my stash of beaded book thongs, Ashley, but couldn't find them anywhere. I apologize for the delay, but I had to make the one shown below especially for you. I'm throwing in a few other bookmarks and hope it makes the extra week's wait worthwhile.
 

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

First Chapter: Dead to Rights


Every ticking second urged: run run run. My heart hammered so loudly, I splayed my hand against my ribs to calm it and held my breath so they wouldn’t hear. I don’t belong here. The walls of the empty corridor pressed closer, and the air seemed too thin.
Murmured conversations echoed down the hallway from rooms. In controlled steps, I shuffled toward the exit, feigning interest in my nails. Wish I knew how they got so ragged. Like the rest of me. Someday I’ll find out. But not today. Today was all about getting the hell out of this place, with its too-sanitized rooms and its less than sanitary personnel, pushing pills, or threats, at every opportunity.
If I move slowly enough, no one will notice. My steps soundless, I glided toward the doors. Only a few more feet. I’ll make it this time.
“Where are you going?” a woman called from down the hall.
Surely as if her voice had been a Taser, a shock went through me, froze me in place. Shit! I made myself as immobile as possible, wanting to fade from sight. My nerves threatened to shake loose from my skin. Don’t show fear. If they’re ever going to believe me, I have to show them I believe in myself.
I infused authority in my voice. Certainty. “It’s almost three thirty three. I have an appointment.”
The nurse heaved an exasperated sigh. “No, you don’t. We’ve been over this. Come back to the common room.” Rubbery soles squeaked nearer as the woman crossed the floor.
Nails bit into my palm as my fists clenched. I fought to maintain my composure. I’m so close. I can’t lose it now. “They’re waiting. If I don’t go soon—”
“Didn’t we talk about this?” The clatter signaled the nurse had set down her clipboard on the front counter. Any moment, the woman would be within reach.
Dammit! My chance would be shot. Again.
“Yes.” No use trying to make them understand. My mind raced with possible arguments, but I could never remember who, exactly, I was supposed to meet. Only that it was critical.
“Let’s go to the common room and see what the others are up to.” The nurse’s lack of enthusiasm balanced her exasperation.
“No.” Damn these ceiling lights, so bright the grit on the tile showed. Why couldn’t they do something about that? Why always pester me? Force me to play inane board games? Ask stupid questions when they knew I had no answers? I hated them, hated the therapy groups, hated the staff. Especially the night attendant, who watched me too closely, who whispered strange things to me. Things I couldn’t repeat because no one would believe me about that either. Warnings, about keeping my mouth shut, or I’d be ‘dead for real’.
Better than this twilight haze I endure every day. Dying would at least give me a clear direction. Right now, I knew only one thing: I had to leave. Get away from the stale air, pompous staff and regimented schedules. Oh, I’d had a tough schedule before, I was almost certain, but on my terms. I pushed myself, not the other way around. Always my worst critic, but how else could I stay on top?
Right. If I could only remember: on top of what? And where? I could conjure no memory of arriving here, only awakening to a roomful of strangers. Including myself.
The nurse sighed. “I hope I don’t have to ask again…”
An implied threat hung in the air like a bee with its stinger pointed directly at me. A stinger I knew would take me back to the hazy place, where shadows lurked. Menacing images that meant more harm than these bozos.
I can’t let them trap me any longer.
A wisp of a whisper rushed through my head: Run. It echoed, its force pushing the word at me again and again in a never-ending wave of frothing urgency. It built inside me like a whirlwind. Like a scream. It propelled me out the door, arms and legs scrambling wildly. Blood roared in my ears, muting the cacophony of shouts erupting behind me. Closing in, becoming louder. Shoes thudded nearer on the pavement. Damn the sunlight – too bright, blinding. Tires squealed and a horn blared as a car screeched to a stop inches away, the heat from its engine rising like a breath beneath the metal hood.
The noise and light paralyzed me. I covered my ears to block out the screaming, mine or someone else’s, I had no clue. But instead of bringing relief, everything collided in my head. A stream of memories rushed up like a roar until my senses threatened to explode. Screams from another day, disconnected flashes of another accident. One that hadn’t missed. And another place, even more terrifying than inside this facility. The weight of those memories sent me crashing to the pavement.
On either side, strong hands grabbed my stiffened arms and jerked me upright.
I twisted in their viselike grip and yelled, “Let me go! I have to go.”
The sting of a needle burned through my thigh. Even as I floated down, weightless, a black edge closing out the sunlit world, I knew.
I’d missed the appointment again.
They wouldn’t wait much longer.
****
The sedative haze thinned. Without opening my eyes, I knew I was back in my room. Exactly where I didn’t want to be.
I kept my eyes closed and tried to float on the sunshine pouring in, warming me. A night must have passed. Waking would mean going through the same meaningless routine. Breakfast with a roomful of strangers. A walk outside. Interrogations masked as therapy, all of which ended in a stalemate.
The doctor insisted the appointment I insisted on keeping was simply a metaphor for something else. When I countered it could be a memory – my sole memory – he waved it off as impossible. I’d stopped arguing, but remained convinced. Every day, the need to keep that appointment intensified, tugging on me with greater and greater urgency. And every day, my desperation grew.
Fingering the edge of the sheet, I wondered how long I could pretend to sleep. If I pilfered food from passing trays, I could avoid the structured nonsense they forced on me. If I had to sit through one more group session, I might go postal. Such a farce, all of it.
Two orderlies shuffled in and talked in hushed tones. Their conversation had taken an interesting turn, so I silenced my brain and listened, trying not to wince at the pine-scented cleaner as they swished their mops around the bed.
“Have they found out yet?” one asked.
“No, still no idea. Weird, huh?”
“You wouldn’t think it possible. Not when a freakin’ cell phone can locate a person these days.”
“She didn’t have no cell phone, no purse, nothing.”
“What about fingerprints? Everybody got those.”
“Hers don’t match any in the system. There’s no record anywhere.”
One woman hooted a laugh. “A person can’t exist without a record.”
“Not unless something’s really wrong.”
Not unless something’s really wrong. Tell me something I didn’t already know.  Can’t exist without a record? That held a kernel of truth too. My very existence felt wrong.
Like the first time I’d caught my reflection in the bathroom. I’d said, Excuse me, thinking another patient stood in front of me. When no response came, I stared for the longest time, unable to process that the eyes I looked through were set in the face looking back at me. I still had no clue who that person staring out from the mirror was. Not me, that was for damn sure. The mousy, shoulder-length brown hair matched mousier brown eyes set in a round face. The sight still stunned me.
But could I conjure a clear image of my true self? Hell no.
It was all wrong. Most of all, being trapped here.
An involuntary shudder made me clutch the bed sheets closer. Even that small motion brought the reminder that this body was all wrong. Legs and arms too short, my limbs never moved like I expected, always making me reach further.
Through a smile, an orderly said in warning, “Oh look, she’s awake.”
Great. Now I’d have to deal with them. Feigning confusion, I fluttered open my eyes, glanced around and sat up a little.
One of the woman adjusted the pillow behind me. “Feelin’ better now?” she asked, her smile too bright.
My nod dismissed the question. ‘Better’ had come to be a relative term. Relative to each bizarre moment.
“Need anything?” the other asked.
Nothing they could give me. I shook my head and turned to the window.
The other woman reached for the blinds. “Does the light bother you? I could close—”
“No.” My hand shot out, the window as far from my reach as the too-blue sky, the idyllic panorama beyond the glass.
Both women startled, and sent warning glances to one another.
To calm them, stop them from calling for someone to inject me with more drugs, I softened my voice. “Please. I like to look outside.”
Someday I’d be out there. Someday soon.
****
Ms. Harding sat at her desk, pleasantness masking the urgency of her words. “Have you any clue where your family is?”
Did they think I wanted to be abandoned? I’d have called someone – anyone – the first second I’d awakened in this hellhole. “No.”
On the credenza behind the director, silver frames displayed photos of Harding with a man, their smiles stiff. A boy and girl smiled from flanking photos.
Leaning forward to study me, Harding splayed her hands across the leather-bound ink blotter, perfectly arranged on the desk.
Teak.
How did I know details like that, and not my own name?
The director’s chair squeaked as she shifted. “We have a dilemma.”
As if it were somehow my fault. Or had been withholding information on purpose. Right, because I loved the tapioca so much.
The night nurse accidentally mentioned something about this meeting.
Ever since, I couldn’t wait. For weeks, I’d played along with their suggestions. Agreed with whatever they said. Pretended to downplay the importance of the appointment. It had killed me, but if I was going to get out of here, I had to play nice. Follow the rules. Just so I could get to this moment.
Now that it had arrived, I thought I might jump out of my skin, waiting for it to happen.
Mrs. Harding spoke as if reciting the rote sentences to a group. “Our services here are top notch, but are limited without the proper paperwork.”
Insurance. Just say it. You can’t keep me here without someone paying for it. A distant recollection struggled to come to light from the back of my brain. Who knew, all I had to do was remind them I had no way to pay for my stay in their facility? A news story teased my brain from its recesses, but I couldn’t recall the details – something about state cutbacks, agencies closing cases of need and passing the buck to other agencies, severing benefits to people who couldn’t live without them. This facility must depend on state funds.
“Given your steady progress…” The director put on her glasses, pretending to read a report in her file.
What a joke. The woman couldn’t even look me in the eye.
Mrs. Harding continued. “…we’re releasing you.”
The word released something inside me too. Finally, I could walk out and no one would stop me. “When?”
It seemed to pain Harding to say, “Today.”
Tensing, I willed myself not to jump up, give them cause to detain me. Let me out. Now.
“We’d prefer to have family pick you up,” Harding said, “but due to the circumstances, that’s impossible.”
The circumstances. Nice way of dancing around the obvious. They had no more clue about my identity than I did. “No problem.”
Harding frowned at the paperwork. “Though we’d rather have verification, you appear to be of age, so I’ll ask you to sign.”
Grabbing a pen from the silver holder, I leaned forward. “Where?”
Momentarily startled, Mrs. Harding slid the paper toward me and pointed to the line marked by an X.
Elation heightened the moment, but then I gripped the pen, frustrated. “I…”
Sympathy filled the director’s face, and her voice softened. “Jane Doe will do. Any signature might help us later.”
Identifying a person by handwriting was an imprecise science. That I knew the fact irked me further. I scrawled the name anyway, but felt like a fraud.
Another sheet slid toward me over the shiny wooden surface.
“These shelters can help you until you find your way,” said Harding.
Oh, I’d find my way. Today, I’d make that appointment.
Harding droned on about my options for outpatient care, local support groups, the case worker that would follow up. “If you’re unable to find work, the state has programs to assist you until you’re back on your feet.”
Back on my feet? Oh, how priceless. It was all I could do not to laugh, so I nodded. To argue now that these were not my own feet would set me back too far. I had to get out today.
In frustration, Mrs. Harding pursed her lips. “You’re obviously educated. Many employers would be happy to hire you.”
The implication came through clear: find a job, support yourself. Thanks for the recommendation. Sure, Harding’s hands were tied, she had to work within the system.
Identity crisis aside, what if I was truly insane? Would they still kick me to the curb?
The urge to write about my experience, share it with the world, would have to wait. “Are we done?”
As if the words smarted, the director’s brows flew up, and then furrowed with sadness as Mrs. Harding nodded.
Save the pity for someone who needs it, lady. “Goodbye then.” Before—in other times—I’d have wrapped it up with Nice to meet you, or some other pleasantry. Vague images of walking away from meeting acquaintances, maybe associates, disturbed me. Always dressed in fashionable clothes. I had been educated. Held a job of influence. I was almost positive. Where had it all gone?
After clenching the chair arms, I propelled myself through the door.
The appointment. I’d find out. This afternoon.
Anticipation pushed me down the hallway. No point going back to my room. Everything I owned, I wore. Though who selected the worn jeans, the tee shirt and oversized hoodie sweatshirt, I had no clue. Certainly not an outfit I’d choose for myself. The shoes alone made me cringe – dingy blue Keds. My toes curled in protest, longing for sleek spiked heels.
Light streamed through the entrance, unusually bright. Something in it called to me, urged me on. I had to follow it. With one final glance at the clock, I hurried to the door. One forty seven. Less than two hours.
###
 
Dead to Rights is available on Amazon Kindle  and Smashwords 

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Remembering 9/11


Hard to believe it's the tenth anniversary of September 11. I had a hard time believing it as it happened. It overwhelmed me, and still does. I could hardly stand to watch the news - the repeated replay of the planes as they hit the Twin Towers - yet I couldn't tear myself away either. It was like being in a nightmare, the kind where you know you're dreaming, but not being able to wake up.
I'm sure a lot of people feel the same.
Someone snapped the photo above from an airplane, seeing the Twin Towers rising above the clouds on approach to land in New York. It was a few months before the attacks. The image became iconic.
That day, my husband was driving through Pennsylvania - not far enough from Shanksville for my liking, though we had no idea at the time what was occurring there. I was at work in Harrisburg, and the staff congregated around the television to watch the news reports.
For me, worse than those repeated videos were the photos of the jumpers. They haunted me night and day. I'd wake in the middle of the night and see the people falling. The horror's too great to fully comprehend.
I understand the need to commemorate the occasion. The loss resonates too strong even now.
It was the one time writing failed me. Before, I could always sort my feelings by putting them to paper. Not during that tragedy. And I still can't.
I've been reading a lot of the accounts that have surfaced for the anniversary, and many left me blubbering. My heart goes out to the families involved. It struck me as I read, another idea resonates strongly - that our lives all intersect, and we usually remain unaware of our impact on others' lives, critical though it may be. Another reminder to treat others well, do whatever we can to help one another.
But I can never bring myself to read any fiction that touches on the subject. I know it's a release for some writers, and certainly a powerful theme and subject.What about you? Does it bother you to read fiction based on 9/11?

***

For anyone who found their way here for Six Sentence Sunday, I'm away this weekend but will try to visit sometime this week! I need my SSS fix. And I'll join in again next weekend.
Have a great week!