Megan Hart

Exercised, which was good. Made coffee in my new maker, to replace the one that broke. Also good.

Wrote! Very good! But didn’t write enough. Was stalled a little bit. Sort of playing around with where the story’s going, what it wants to be…this one has no contract or deadline and I have the tiniest bit of time to work on it before I really have to buckle down and write contracted stuff, so I’m trying to finish. Halfway through, sort of have an idea of where it’s going and not sure exactly how I’m going to get there. Still, all good!

Laundry. Never a good time, but necessary.

And there’s been about five hours between when I started this and just now, with a whole lot of stuff in between, so I shall say goodnight and pick this up another time.

M

Ok, so I’m here at home, typing away, typing away, when the phone rings. Caller ID tells me it’s my health insurance company calling. I almost don’t answer because what on earth could THEY want, but then I recall the ridiculous expense I just incurred for a test that ultimately turned out to be NOTHING (and for which I have clearly harbored a grudge.) So I answer.

It’s a recording. It asks if I am, in fact, ME and I say, yes. It asks if it can give me an important health message. Again, in an annoyed tone, I say yes.

The recording then tells me it’s very important that I get a PAP smear.

Okay well…that’s an important message, thnks sooo fucking much for interrupting my work to tell me this, something I know, but I guess I could use a reminder since, as the recording helpfully reminds me, getting a PAP is “no fun.” (No Shit.)

But you want to know how to make it better?

GO WITH A FRIEND OR FAMILY MEMBER.

I shit you not, the recording is suggesting that we make PAP smears more fun by doing them as a group. Making “a day” out of it. Oh, hey, mom, how about we hit the shops and btw, let’s get our cervixes scraped, too! Cool! I mean, it’s no mani-pedi, but hey, it could still be fun!

Are you fucking kidding me?

The last thing I want when I’m up on a table with my lady bits being probed and scraped is a FRIEND or FAMILY MEMBER there. It’s not like getting a couples massage, FFS. Ok, let me strike that. THE LAST thing I want when I’m having my annual womanly exam is a HOT YOUNG INTERN looking at my stretchmarks and giving me a breast exam while he asks what I do for a living and I say “I write novels.” “What kind?” “…erotic.”

*beat of silence in which he manipulates my breasts and we both pretend he’s not actually touching my boobs while I say this*

AND YES THAT HAPPENED.

So.

Insurance company? Next time you call me, I’m totally not going to answer. Because not only did you take up five minutes of my precious time, I have now wasted another ten in my outrage and typing up this blog post.

Carry on, ladies and gentlemen. CARRY THE FUCK ON.

M

Okay, so all of a sudden, print publishing is circling the drain, right? Ebooks are taking over, thus creating the demise of foine lit-ra-chur as we know it. Right?

Ummm….wrong.

Look. I’ve been digitally published since we called it e-publishing. Waaaaaay back when in oh…2001? 2002? Somewhere around there, and I wasn’t even in the front line. Epublishing has been around for quite a number of years, and during that time I’ve heard “Ebooks are the wave of the future! THEY ARE TEH FUTURRRRRRE!” and “Epublishing is going to replace print publishing!” And “ebooks are better!” and “print books are better!” and all manner of things that contradict one another.

But this is the reality, as I see it (and since this is my blog, that’s the version you get.) Ebooks are a delightful NEW FORMAT for readers to enjoy. Ebooks allow high-consumption for readers who plow through multiple books per week. Ebooks are mostly, not always, but often cheaper than their print counterparts (much the way mass market paperbacks are cheaper than hardcovers). Ebooks can be purchased and delivered literally, within seconds. Ebooks can be found in many online stores and locations, including but not limited to major online retailers like Amazon.com and BN.com. And, ebooks, for the most part, are still a teensy weensy eensy part of the overall sales of books.

Personally, I’m delighted that ebooks are finding their place finally. It’s long been my position that when ereaders became easily portable and financially feasible to buy, that ebooks were going to really take off. And what do you know? Kindle, Nook, iPad, some others I’m forgetting…I read them on my iPhone, myself, using Kindle for iphone and BN’s reader, and all manner of apps that allow me to purchase, download and read ebooks from just about any place I want. I’m delighted as a reader because this allows me to feed my reading habit in one more format and fashion. I’m less delighted as an author because frankly, my ebook royalties from my “traditional” publishers are not as beneficial as the ones from my primarily digital publishers. As an author, I think that sucks. I think it’s ridiculous. And I hope it changes as the publishing model, however slowly it changes, moves to accommodate this new format.

We all know that digital music has mostly replaced other formats. Again, speaking personally, I purchase and download music frequently. The only CDs I buy are from indie artists I see play live so that I can get them signed; for listening purposes, for ease and quality and simple convenience, I download  songs so that I can listen to them on my computer or iPod, because that’s how I consume that product. Digital music has replaced CDs for me and for many; it’s certainly replaced cassette tapes, 8 tracks and LP’s for the casual listener. Digital movies are replacing DVDs — I stream more video or download movies (legally, m’kay? Pay for that stuff, people, or else there won’t be more of it) than I buy DVD’s. I watch on my computer, via streaming on my Tivo or Wii, on my iphone, on an iPad. I consume more digital movies because it’s easier and more convenient now.

And this is exactly why ebooks are not now, nor perhaps ever going to disappear or be replaced totally by their digital counterparts.

Because music and movies ALWAYS require some sort of device in order to consume them. (Well, not live music, but that’s not what we’re talking about.) If you want to listen to a song or watch a movie, you MUST consume it via some piece of technology, whether it’s a VHS player or a Walkman, or a computer or an iPod or whatever.

Books require…your eyes.

Yep, that’s right. Print books of course need to be printed on paper, bound, distributed, etc. But in that format, all that you need to read them is YOUR EYES. You don’t need another piece of equipment to consume them, a piece of equipment that’s going to be obsolete in a few years. Or months. Printed books require YOU. The readers. And that’s it.

Which is why, in my opinion, ebooks are one more wonderful format in which to consume literature. Just like hardcovers, trade paperbacks, mass market paperbacks. Now we have digital. But ebooks and digital format are not going to totally replace ebooks any time soon, because let’s face it — there will be people for a long, long time who don’t have ereaders. I’m not saying digital books will NEVER outsell paper books. There may come a time when print is for specialists and the casual consumer really does do everything via a device. After all, it’s way more convenient to download a book, then delete it when you’re finished than have thousands of books taking up space in your house. But that time is not imminent. It’s not going to take over the print book world this year, or next year, or the year after that. It might happen someday, but it’s not going to happen all at once.

And you know what? Even if it does?

Ebooks are still books, people. Just because Stuart Skyisfalling hasn’t read one, or heard of one until the past year or so, that doesn’t mean they haven’t been around. Ebooks are books, made to be read and consumed by people who love to read. Digital is a format, not a genre, not a replacement, not something to fear. If you like reading on your Kindle, knock yourself out. If you like reading your hefty hardcover…well…you can do that, too.

In the end what matters is that you can find the books you want and love, that you can purchase them and enjoy them. If you love to read, you’re going to love to read. Authors can still write.

The sky is not falling.

The times are a changing, but that doesn’t have to be something to fear.

Me? Personally, I prefer paper books. I don’t have a dedicated ereader, though if I convince myself I need an iPad I’ll read on it because it’s a sweet, sweet reading experience. But I don’t want to take an iPad to the beach, or the pool. I like tossing a paperback into my bag and not worrying about it breaking. I like getting signed copies from authors I love and respect. I like having books on my shelf to pluck up at a whim and turn to a page randomly, I like them as decoration, I like the smell and feel of paper books. I read ebooks, but I love paper books. Yet I’m happy to have my work available in both formats. It doesn’t make one any less or more “real” than the other.

I don’t have the numbers, and I can’t link you to the plethora of articles about how the world of publishing is coming to an end. I think things need to change and while they do, we’re all going to be a little unsure of how it works and what might happen. But I know in my gut that books will continue to be published and people will read them.

I’m not worried how they read them. Just that they have them to read. No matter what format they come in.

M

Last night I went to our local county fair. No cheap expenditure, let me assure you, the fair is BIG TIME DOINGS. I forgot my wallet and had to take money from the ATM, and I believe we spent every single cent. We had pit beef sandwiches and milkshakes. Not even any fries! But the pit beef was very, very good. And then the spawn rode rides. And played some games. Before I knew it, 10 pm had arrived and I was out of cash, the male spawn had gone on the Roundabout (yeah, I was trying to look up videos about it on Youtube and…now I found all sorts of vids about carny rides gone wrong. Considering the operator of the other rocket ride he went on started it up without making sure the pin that locks the door was latched completely, I don’t think we’ll be riding any carnival rides again for a long, long time.)

Aside from the rides, though, the shows were pretty entertaining. Which brings me to what made me think about blogging…the life of entertainers on the road. We saw both The Hansen Spectactular and Tom Crowl, Comedy Ventriloquist perform. I can’t really even tell you how much I have to give kudos to people who travel around to fairs and do their shows. It’s hot, people are rude, the locations aren’t ideal…and they’re out there making a living in entertainment. I applaud as loud as I can. I cheer. Because no matter how cheesetastic the show is, those folks deserve it.

I say cheesetastic with fondness — I mean, what else do you call an act that uses rollerskates on a 6 foot platform and features a woman spinning while held on a cord attached to her husband’s neck? It’s…well, frankly, I couldn’t get up there and skate around by myself without falling off, so it’s pretty freaking impressive, if you ask me.

I admire anyone who gets up in front of a crowd and tries to be funny, or acrobatic, or whatever. It takes courage. I’ve been on stage, I know it can be difficult. Scary. But it can be a rush, too, knowing you entertained someone for even a few minutes.

I had a great time at the fair (minus the few minutes I thought for real that my kid was going to plunge to a horrific and grisly doom.) Hey, there were camel rides!

M

So this morning I was dreaming about Stephen Moyer, aka Bill Compton of True Blood fame. I like TB Bill better than I like books Bill. Anyway, I was dreaming I was in my house (not my real house) and the roof had been torn off the attic bedroom by Lorena (Bill’s creator) in a fit of jealous rage — btw, I have NOT seen the famous “water cooler shocking sex scene” episode yet, so DO NOT SPOIL ME…but it involved lots of blood and heart-eating and threeway sex in a messy bed…

Where was I?

Oh, right, so the vampire bitch ripped the roof off. But before that, Bill and I were getting cozy, and he was high on vampire blood (do they get high on their own blood?! FFS, see how complicated this was?) and he was all giddy and giggly and not intense like Bill is on the show, mostly.

And then I had to find Anna Paquin on Twitter to tell her how much I love her boyfriend, because even though in the dream I’m sure I was Sookeh, I was *NOT* Anna Paquin.

And then, perhaps because of all the teeth and blood, I started dreaming about sharks.

And then the phone rang. Early. And woke me. And then I couldn’t get back to sleep.

But it made me think about sharks, and here’s the thing, the trufax: I am not alone in this, either — I have a deep-seated and primal fear of sharks.

99.9% of my time I’m not anywhere a shark could possibly even be close enough to me to bite me, and I’m still freaked out by sharks. Alligators, too. Must be the teeth. I’m not afraid of spiders (though they creep me out) or snakes (except poisonous ones, duh). But sharks, man. Sharks are horrifying. They’re awful. They’re scary!

So I put JAWS on my streaming list. Why? Why not!

I am so tired my eyes are blurry, but hey, I’m up now. It’s already 9 am, the house is still quiet, I’m going to get some writing done.

Stay sharp, ya’ll.

M

Ann Aguirre, Megan Hart, Victoria Dahl, Lauren Dane, Gennita Low, Laura Bradford

Wednesday: up at 3:15, on the road by 4 am, got the train at 5:10 am.  Got to Philly by 7 am (ish, it’s a blur at this point). Caught my first flight to Chicago at 10:30 am. Layover. Flight to Columbus arrived on time at 2:55.

Met up with my friend Jen and much laughing did commence! Delicious Greek food, picture taking, tweeting at celebrities who never answer back.

Also met up with Lauren Dane and Ann Aguirre who were kind enough to let me share their room, but then I ended up getting a rollaway in Laura Bradford’s room. Which was really for the best, since LD would’ve insisted I spoon her and really, I was just too tired.

Though there was that very tall, fit, baseball player who accosted me at the elevator and quizzed me about being a “romance novelist.” He also told me “You are really beautiful.”

0.0

You know what the best response is when some 6’6′ athletic looking, totally trashed young fella tells you you’re beautiful?

“Why yes, yes I am.”

THURSDAY:

Slept “in” — not late enough but better than nothing. Breakfast. Shortly after that, lunch. Then a while after that, dinner! Oh, and I accepted the RT Reviewer’s Choice award for Best Erotic Fiction for Deeper in there, too. Awesome. Felt like a rock star to be asked for autographs and be  chatted up by people. After dinner changed clothes and headed to the fairy ball for dancing and fun — and later, in the bar some dude tried to offer me a seat but I didn’t want to sit at the bar, I just wanted water.

Him: “How are you?”

Me: “I’m fine.”

Him: “You ARE fine.”

0.0

You know what’s the best response to some drunk, confused man in a bar surrounded by women in costumes and drinking heavily when he says you’re fine?

“Yes, yes I AM.”

Friday: up for breakfast, not too early thank God. Then off to the airport for another round of flights to Ft. Lauderdale, where I picked up Superman and the spawn in the rental car and we zipped down to Miami for the mother of all parties. Let me tell you, this party was so insane it wasn’t off the hook — it was never even ON the hook. Or the chain. Apparently DJ Laz is a big deal, and I didn’t even know! Then up on Sunday, another drive to the airport, another flight home.

Today:

Exhausted. I have to catch up on laundry, finish edits, clean off my desk, which…was clean before I left, wtf? Where did all this stuff come from? Srsly, that’s not cool. It’s not nice to leave and come home to a stack of bills and stuff that weren’t there when I left. Much better to come home to a check or two. Maybe today in the mail, whatcha think? Wouldn’t that be great?

Anyway, I’m going to clear off my desk, clean up the cat puke that also greeted me upon my arrival home, edit my novella because it’s the first due AND the easiest! Hooray! Gonna drink some Coke Zero, too, and drink some water or maybe some coffee and admire my pretty award. I’d post pics but damn if my camera didn’t get absconded with by my female spawn when hers ran out of room. I’ll have to get my sim card back from her at some point and show the world the madness that is RT.

M

OH and I forgot about this:

While looking for something else in an old folder I found  a poem I wrote in high school, and I would like to share it with you today.

* * * * * * *

Dawn breaks over the hills

like a sword slicing through veal

A slice slips down, sliding down

veal cutlet

Is the sun.

We eat it.

The moon is a cheese biscuit.

I didn’t know you when you started.

Oh, I saw the articles in Entertainment Weekly, heard the buzz. But you came on in a time when I didn’t watch television, had no Tivo to help me. I didn’t care much about you, in the beginning.

And then…Netflix came into my life. That saucy whore. Teasing me, tempting me with unlimited rentals of programs I’d heard about but had never watched.

Like you.

So…yeah, I rented you at first. Just one disc. I said, “hey, if I don’t like you, I don’t ask you out again.” I didn’t know when I slipped you into the DVD player, slowly, carefully, that you’d turn out to be so. Damn. Beautiful. That first season murdered me. Tore me up, slit me open and sewed me up again. I screamed, I cried, I writhed.

I fell. Hard. Fast and deep. All the way.

Dr. Troy? Yes, please. Over and over again, and then one more time? Break my heart, please, because it yearns to be broken by the likes of you.

That first season was some of the most balls-to-the-wall, over-the-top, outrageous, horrifying, tantalizing, scintillating and sometimes disgusting television I’d ever seen. Oh, sure, you were too much to believe. Sure, you took everything that was good in anyone and turned it bad. I knew I could count on your characters to always make the wrong choices, no matter what.

You have no redeemeable qualities, Nip/Tuck. You know that? You know you’re filthy and unrepentant, don’t you? Just like you know you have me begging for more every single time you’re on.

Season two was next, and I ate that season. Oh, I didn’t rent any more. I had to OWN YOU. Yes, Nip/Tuck, you’re my filthy, nasty habit. I could watch you over again…and here’s a secret…oh, yes. Yes, I did. Snuck peeks at you during the day when I was supposed to be writing. “Research,” I called it. But we both know I lied. That’s what you do to me, Nip/Tuck, you turn me into your dirty, lying whore, and I LOVE IT.

Got caught up just in time for Season Three on broadcast, and with the help of some strange gadget called a DVD recorder (NOT A DVR, no, baby, this thing actually used RECORDABLE DISCS) I was able to keep up with you every week. Oh, sure, the dvds never recorded right and the timer was always off. Sure, I had to scream myself hoarse with frustration when I missed you. Thank God FX played you so many times I could always catch up.

This is it, Nip/Tuck. I wasn’t with you from the start, but I’ve been with you a damn long time. I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I’ve cringed. I’ve stayed with you through every single unbelievable, repulsive story twist and plot line. I kept up with you even when Sean and Christian moved to L.A. because…how fucking ridic was that? But I was there with you. Loving you. Yearning for you. Aching to be filled with your weekly dose of OMG WTF.

And now…

Now, we say goodbye.

There’s only one episode left. And I can’t watch it. I can’t. I cannot bear to watch you end.

Christian, Sean, Liz, Julia, Matt, Connor, Annie, Kimber…none of you could ever get your heads out of your asses, and with one more episode to go, I don’t see as how you possibly CAN. But I guess that’s okay, because it would be unfair to expect any of you to get it straight after so long.

And after all, isn’t it what I so loved about you? Your constant flaws? Your never-changing lack of common sense?

Oh, Nip/Tuck, my dear Nip/Tuck…my beloved Nip/Tuck. I weep in advance at the thought of losing you. You were the one show I cheated on Supernatural with. The one I have to watch. Must see. Can’t be without.

I’m going to miss you.

<3,

M

Well, I cleaned off my desk today, and let me tell you something. It always takes a really long time. I also did laundry, and that takes a long time, too! Which makes my eyes all squinty, the laundry and the cleaning.

I also edited a Spice Brief called The Experiment and sent that off to my editor; so that’s what I do instead of watching The Super Bowl. I work. Oh, I did play some Sims 3 earlier today, but I don’t really count it since I was actually editing while I just let my Sim lady go about her business.

She discovered a star.

I know, right? Who knew they even could? Left to her business, she will play her guitar a lot and flirt with people. She also apparently likes to discover stars. And she found some seeds, but I don’t think she’ll plant them. Well, maybe she will, I don’t know.

Tomorrow I aim to get up at a good time (instead of letting the alarm just go off, then again, then again later…) which means I intend to get to bed very shortly. Which is also what I’m doing instead of watching the Super Bowl. Going to be early. I believe I shall read. Now, I just finished Under the Dome which was a doorstop of a book, my God, over 1000 pages, really? REALLY?! And I think I’m going to read The Lightning Thief or possibly The Dead and Gone next. Because I feel like it.

On the other hand, if I’m going to dive back into Collide tomorrow, I really should read through it to refresh my memory. So maybe I’ll take that to bed with me instead, and go over it.

See, that’s what I do instead of watching football.

I work!

M