Information Round-up

Like most people, Fiorella has several different aspects to her personality. The one she chooses to present on her blog is different from her Facebook persona. The heroines in books she has written only vaguely resembles her, and the Fiorella that her friends know is subtly adjusted to suit each one of them. Don't look at me like that--you do the same.
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Fio is still finding gems among the moudering remnants of her lifetime of writing. Maybe she'll try to revive some of them.  Be prepared for a vampire story.
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Sabrina's romance is moving along again. It's rough, but the story line is holding together. Pray that Fio isn't in a car accident, her computer doesn't break down, she herself doesn't get sick, her husband and kids stay well, and the stars stay in her corner.
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Did Fio ever tell you that she filed a lawsuit against the last college she taught at? She lost, of course, which introduced her to the great fraud of the American justice system. At the time she was devastated, but now realizes it was for the best. Otherwise she would never been able to throw herself into full-time writing.

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 Today is Fiorella's birthday. Shhh--no one knows.

Mosquitoes Take Warning!

As Fio emptied a small glass vase crammed with dying carnations, four black mosquitoes leaped up out of their natal cradle. She clamped her palm across the top of the vase, rushed to the door and tossed the water and its occupants into the unforgiving night. But one mosquito had escaped before she knew what was going on and is, no doubt, circling your faithful correspondent to zoom in for its vampiric feast.

Watch out, babe.  Fio's slap is quicker than the eye.

Mosquito Wars

Fiorella is running late because she slept late because a vampire kept her up late.  Yes, Dracula buzzed her ear and bit her forehead, cheek, and neck last night. Fio's only defense was to swat at him, which meant slapping her own face until she finally nailed that son of a bitch.

Yep, we're going to have to bomb the house again this evening.

Full Steam Ahead!

Take notes.  Fiorella has set her writing path for the next six months, first finishing off Lolly's story, then writing up the final Bosque Bend story saga, Carmen's story.  After that, she wants to work out Sarah's story, maybe in the meantime revising her Minnesota story, her Austin story, and her vampire story.

In the meantime, enjoy this passage from WHAT THE HEART WANTS:

"When he'd taken her hand, he'd wanted to hold it forever.  What would she have done if he'd brought it to his lips and touched her palm with the tip of his tongue?"

Fio Confesses

All the aspects of Fiorella come out in her heroines.  Laurel plays the piano.  Lolly plays tennis. Moira is an actress.   Sigrid is an investigative reporter.  Ann is an artist.  Tally's vampire heritage is Eastern European.

Of course, Fio is not up to Laurel's level musically, she hasn't played tennis since junior high, her acting career was amateur, she couldn't make a go of journalism or art, and she has an admixture of German and English that would make her ineligible for vampirehood.

But this writing stuff is going great guns!

Facebook Politics

Fiorella is disturbed by the hate-mongering on Facebook.  Sure, the cute dogs, cats and children get a little old, especially since Fiorella's Sonia is the cutest dog around, she has no cats, and her children are adults living their own lives, but pictures of the President of the United States photoshopped to look like a zombie or a vampire do not influence Fiorella's vote.  In fact, like graffiti scrawled over a wall mural, they repel her.

Let's grow up, everyone, and put politics on a more adult level.

Numbers Lady

Fiorella has a fascination with numbers. .

She noticed years ago that her three children were born exactly sixty-nine days apart from each other, and recently realized that there's a pattern to the addresses at which she has lived: 429, 2609, pause, 809, 4607, 11508, 9907, 141.  Three numerals, then four; starting over as a married woman with three, then four, then five, then relaxing to four, and three.

There's also the constant 1-10 counting she does in seven languages.

Must be her vampire heritage.

Trail of Blood (2)

Jeremy opened his door and looked at Tally. “You stay here. I’m gonna check the car.” He carefully moved his legs and stood up by the car, then fell to his knees in the slippery mud. Hauling himself up on the door handle, he coughed again, and braced himself against the cold, wet metal. “Jeez, Tally, I think I’ve done something to my ribs.”

On the roadway above, another vehicle screeched to a stop. Tally tensed. It was the battered black pickup that had chased them all the way from Phillipsburg. Highlighted by the heavy quarter moon, three men stumbled from the cab, followed by a clatter of empty beer cans. The driver was big, not tall but muscular, with a rolling gut that stretched his T-shirt to the limit. He was followed by a second man, small, skinny, bearded. Then moonlight caught the shaved head of a third man as he came around from the passenger side.

Their combined anger hit Tally like an invisible wave. She had become extra-sensitive to people’s emotions lately, which she didn’t especially like. It was like having a hive of buzzing bees in her brain.

"Hey, boy! Not so smart now, are you, boy?" the driver taunted, grinning down at Jeremy from the roadside above. “Wanna shoot me the finger again?”

Tally was inside Jeremy’s brain now as he swallowed hard and decided to stand his ground. Not his choice of saviors, he was thinking, but surely they would realize that the game was over now. He supported himself with his left hand on the car door, squared his Polo-clad shoulders, and stood as straight as his aching ribs would allow.

"Look, man, I've had an accident! I'm sorry I flipped you off back there, but we need help! It's a long way to town!" Then he paused and enunciated carefully in his most reasonable senior-class-president tones: "I’m Jeremy Marek."

Those three magic words had tamed a lot of bears in Jeremy's life, Tally knew, but not these three. Their anger was at the point of rage, and Jeremy was the target for the night.

And the story goes on--

Trail of Blood

Eileen Nicholas is our guest blogger, and she is contributing the first few pages of her vampire detective novel, Trail of Blood.

The speeding Camaro lost it on the rain-slick blacktop. They were going to crash, Tally realized--no time to brace herself or even scream.

Bam! The car ricocheted off the wall of blasted rock toward the right side of the road, and Tally’s head whipped backwards, then forwards into the windshield. Jeremy twisted desperately at the wheel, but the car had a mind of its own, plunging toward the soggy bottom of the wide ditch to the left. Thorn bushes and pine saplings snagged at the muscle car’s undercarriage and whipped its windows.

Tally’s head snapped backwards again as they continued halfway up the other side of the embankment. Finally the car reached the end of its momentum and stopped, rolling slowly back to nestle itself at the bottom of the incline.

Waaaalk like an Egyptiaaaan-- The stereo was still on, and the mis-angled headlights cut odd, jagged shadows through the tree branches. Wiper blades beat like drumsticks on the crazed windshield three inches in front of Tally’s face. She breathed deeply and looked across at her boyfriend. "You okay?”

"Yeah, I think so.” He coughed a couple of times, turned off the ignition, and experimented carefully with moving his head from side to side. “You?"

“I’m cool.” Tally hurt all over, but she wasn’t bleeding anywhere she could see. Crossing herself—up, down, right, left--she murmured thanks to Blessed Jesus and the Ever-Virgin Mary. This must be her lucky day, she thought, although all her days seemed to have been lucky lately, ever since she had been in the hospital last year.

She closed her eyes for a long second and felt her body restoring itself. Her mind was clear now, and her headache was going-going-gone. Looking out the window, she realized the rain had let up completely, a small blessing now that she and Jeremy were going to have to hike all the way back to Minetown in the dark. She hoped it wouldn’t take too long. She had to get home quickly because she was suddenly more hungry than ever, and the only thing she seemed to be able to keep down these days was Grandma’s oxblood soup.

Thinner, thinner, blood for dinner.

(Continued tomorrow)