I’m soooo hot…

….and oh god no, not in a sexually, exciting way – more in a schlepping around from fan to fan in an old bra, faded shorts and ratty-haired way. Quite ghastly to look at but there it is. Summer in Brizzie. Humidity makes you strip. I could say I look almost exactly like Marilyn above – I do sorta – we’re both female – that’s where the similarity ends. I’m a goddess but in a more complicated way…

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Renewal…

I had been on auto pilot with an establishment for such a long time that I had never realized how much I was sick to death of them and their rules. Something happened a couple of days ago – see the angry post – that made me realize that I had lost faith in them – and worse - I no longer trusted them. When you lose trust, you know it’s time to move on.

Anyway push came to shove over something and I thought – “Walk away – you don’t trust them – what are you doing with them?” The answer, of course, is we all get complacent, lazy and go the easy way. I was but I’m changing that now.

So, I’ve cut ties and I feel damn good. The best thing is I can write the way I want to write without hoping it fits the ‘rules’. Condoms? Gee no, if they don’t fit the story, I’m not going to write ‘em in. Readers don’t like ‘em anyway – they’re passion killers. The heroine getting preggers or even the hint of a baby? Again, if it fits the story – it will go in the story. And now, I can actually use ‘baby’ as a term of endearment and not have it deemed as something sinister. And sex? I’m not going to worry how much I should write. Is it hot enough? Or, more to the point – is it weird enough? Yep, I've finally been kicked in the head enough to realize I can do so much better without compromising on who I am.

Rules – I always knew they were fucking stupid.

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Most peculiar…

….I have two book releases out in the same month – December – with the same publisher…hmmm…we live in curious times.

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Oh, what I would like to say…

I think Peter Finch summed it up nicely when he said, in the movie Network, "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!" Oh, I’m angry. I could spit chips I’m so mad but unlike Peter I can’t publicly say why - yet. I was going to write a blog about exactly what had made me so angry but someone I respect and admire very much may get in trouble for it. Friends are more important than the actions of wankers. I can’t drop kick a friend into a shit-fight. So I won’t. I’m gagging myself for the moment. But oh god, what I would like to say and will say as soon as I am free to.

Amarinda Jones
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Lots of stuff happening...

…none of it I can talk about. Bummer. So I leave you with my new pink Doc Martens…long story with these as well…seems to be the season for complicated stuff…

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Britney in Brizzie…

Britney Spears is in Brisbane. So is a work colleague of mine from up north. Let’s call her Sabrina. I speak or email Sabrina nearly every day at work so it was nice to put a face to a name. Sabrina is in town to see Britney Spears. Old Brit has been getting a bad rap in Oz due to her lip synching. Some people feel that if she hauled her arse all the way down to the Antipodes then she should at least sing live. Others like Sabrina, and the fans, know she lip synchs but they don’t care. They want to see the show and woman. Me? I think no one on the planet is that good a singer, dancer, writer or candlestick maker and everyone fakes it somewhere along the way so what the hey – give Brit a break. Take a moment and think about what you fake.

We brought Sabrina back to the office. She wanted to see it – god knows why as everyone was in a reallllly baaaad mood due to all the changes and they were quite pissy to Sabrina. I said to her ‘and you want to work down here with these hormonal harpies? Please…run…flee…and pray you never enter the dark side again.’

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I don’t think so…

There’s this woman at work – in another office – who many people don’t like – in fact they hate her and wish all sorts of terrible things upon her – plagues of locusts, boils, paper cuts and no change for the vending machine. I don’t hate her. You only hate what you fear. I don’t fear her. I do, however, find her to be extremely aggressive in her language and attitude. I don’t like the fact that she makes others cry or she sets people up to take the fall to make herself look good. Not on my watch sister.

Basically, this woman is a bully and for some reason only known to herself every so often she tries to put the frighteners on me. I believe it’s a challenge to her. It starts with the aggressive ‘you will do this phone call’. Hmmm, I don’t think so. I’m always exceptionally even toned when I speak to this woman because I know it pisses aggressive people off. I explain to her coolly and succinctly that I’m not her employee that she is dabbling in a realm where I am Queen and that I can, metaphorically speaking of course, kick her arse from here to next Sunday. Generally by the end of the conversation she has shut the hell up and I always end it with a pleasant goodbye and a very well-structured, polite, professional email to her and all interested parties about the ‘issue’ she raised. There is no blame or angst it’s just a quiet, ‘don’t fuck with me email’ aimed specifically at her.

I actually find this woman sad, pathetic and plain nasty. No one should make another cry or fear for their job in order to make themselves look good. I refuse to back down when it comes to bullies. I will not have people fear for their safely. The day I allow a bully to win is the day I stop being a bitch. A true bitch never backs down from a fight. Say what you like about bitches, but we’re awfully useful at times like this.

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Bizarro world…

Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have eyes to see ~ Carl Jung

In the last two weeks, the strangest things have been happening in my life – people have turned up at the precise moment I needed them – even though I didn’t know I did, opportunities have thrust themselves in my face and an old friend has wandered back into my life to point out some bleeding obvious things to me as only he can.

I’m a great believer in synchronicity. There are no coincidences and everything happens for a reason – and okay, yes, there are times when I’m stuffed if I know what the reason is. Now, I’m not saying that everything is peachy keen in my life and that all my problems are being solved by the cosmos but it’s certainly a bizzaro world period in my life right now. I can hardly wait to see what today brings.

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Giving good back…

I’ve seen this man’s back on so many book covers that I am beginning to wonder how he got paid. Is it a one shot sum of money for ‘back’ or is it back to back payment for every time his back gets used? Does he own his own back? If a book has copyright can he trademark/insure his back? How much would that cost? What does his face look like – yes, I know facial features are not important but I would like to look at the whole man…but then, is this just a simulated back made up in a studio somewhere? Maybe it’s not a real, live back at all. Does he smile and tell his friends every time his back is on a cover? Do ex-lovers go “I know that back anywhere. I want that back back in my life.” What if a lover scratches his back during sex? Or do you think he has rules on that – ‘do whatever you like to me darlin’ but no nails on my back I’ve got a back gig tomorrow.’ Is there steady work in the ‘back’ industry? Does he have front he can use? Is the back industry competitive? Is he challenged by younger backs? How old is this back anyway? He seems to have been around forever. What happens when he can’t give good back anymore? Are you only as good as your last back shot?

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Toe-cutters….

We’ve been undergoing a shake up at work. There’s a toe-cutter in the building. What is a toe-cutter? A man who has the ability to see problems quickly, cut down those who are dead wood and institute policies that piss some people off left, right and centre – no, not me. Why not? I’ve met toe-cutters before. They’re charming, charismatic men – 95% of the time men – with eyes that see everything yet give nothing away until they’re ready to. They sound scary don’t they? Nah, never sweat the small stuff. Toe-cutters come and go and life still goes on for the experienced and the resilient.

Our current toe-cutter came in and charmed the pants off everyone. Yesterday, some people decided he wasn’t so charming after all and they liked the office, with all the bitching and moaning, the way it used to be. I can hardly wait to see what next week brings. Oh the angst, ridden drama.

New cover…I love it…I bow down to the cover gods at Ellora’s Cave. They never let me down.

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Weird arsed week….

First up I must mention that Attitude Angel is out at Whiskey Creek Torrid. I forgot it was released – bad author-hand-slap-hanging-head-in-shame. I was supposed to promote the arse out of it until you were all sick to death of it and said ‘bugger off, we’ll frigging buy it if you shut already.’ Ok – so that’s done – click on the cover below to buy or read on MacDuff…It’s been a week out of the Twilight Zone. Weird things have happened left, right and centre and I’ve been left thinking ‘huh’ and ‘what the?’

So, here’s the thing, suddenly I’m a manager with my own office – picture musical chairs and you’re the only one who’s playing. The music stops and you look at the chair and you think ‘should I sit?’ But you do and it starts off this amazing chain reaction of responsibility that you think ‘well fuck, I’m a grown up.’

Then there’s the gossip at work. X stormed out of the office because Y is a ball breaking cow – no, I’m not Y this time – and there is uproar and drama and hours are spent trying to determine the facts of what may or could have or did happen. No work gets done because well, how can it? You have to discuss all the possible variations of what could have happened to ascertain 79% of the truth. I’m completely exhausted from all that. Then there’s the staff who are pissed at the sudden office changes, someone took all my black pens – I only write in black – extremely annoying – how does anyone write in blue - and I only got to have one coffee and because of that how can I be expected to stamp things with the right date and not upside down?

And then there are people you want to hate and ignore and you just can’t ‘cause they get all puppy dog on you and well…you know…sigh…its’ hard to be a bitch sometimes…

I think the most normal thing of the week was planning a bank robbery with author Anny Cook and the Frog Queen…thank god for rational people like this.

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Rack off Lancelot….

So, I had this man tell me today that he basically saved me. Uh huh... really? How so Lancelot? If you believe his dramatic take on events – which I don’t but I am thinking of using in a book – he fell on his sword for me. Oh honey, if you fall on your sword you’re just plain clumsy and don’t tell me it was in the name of gallantry. I never needed saving and frankly I was just doing fine without you.

This man had his own agenda and for some reason he thought I would be all grateful to him for this piss weak venture into soap opera fiction on my behalf…hmmm…I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong – if someone helps me or stands by me I have this mafia like loyalty to them forever but try to dazzle me with bullshit and I’ll call you on it – which I did today and gee, no, he didn’t try to save me at all….but that’s another blog.

You know, I like men…they’re this odd species that we deal and live with and find strangely compelling to watch and listen to sometimes. But no woman needs a Lancelot. We can save ourselves. If we need help we’ll ask. And no woman needs a man telling them he charged in to save her cellulite arse when there was no danger to it at all. Is it a need a man has to receive gratitude and be praised? If so put the toilet seat down, Lancelot...good boy.

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I came second for bold embroidery….

…at the Avenell Show…'can’t remember the year. So yep, I was on a list once. It was all to do with cotton and thread and lots of wild colour. Actually I wasn’t even aware I had been entered in the show until I got the certificate. I think I was 13. Ah, those were the heady days…

What am I crapping on about? Several days ago I wrote a short, simple blog for Whiskey Creek Torrid and I asked a question along the lines of how important was it to readers whether a book was on a best seller list. It was to do with some heated emails I read from a group of authors who were upset that a bestseller list had gone to god.

Anyway I got quite a lot of emails back on the subject - some from authors but most from readers. Authors think it is vitally important to be on a bestseller list as readers pick from the list and it provides publicity. I don’t necessarily agree with that but I respect those opinions.

Readers didn’t see the list as being important and that they liked to make their mind up by reading blubs, excerpts, looking at covers, blogs and recommendations from friends. It appears that a bestseller list is not deemed as important. They also liked to pick lesser know authors to expand horizons – free reads being a good way to do it. A couple of readers brought up something that never occurred to me and that was - how do we know the bestseller list is right? Is number one really number one? Hmmm… stuffed if I know and an interesting point. I believe reputable publishers would have no fear in running a true and accurate top ten list without fear or favour…dodgy pubs may re-jig a list to make some authors happy...who knows? It’s the answer-is-blowing-in-the-wind kind of deal.

To me, 2nd best champion embroiderer at the Avenell show, the bottom line is readers read books and influence the market according to their needs and beliefs. Pretty damn simple huh?

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Good news…bad news…

Good news is my scarlet python Doc Martens arrived! They are most lovely. Bad news is it’s too frigging hot to wear them…bummer.

Good news is Flower Power by Sandra Cox is out today. Click on the cover to buy.

When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf of bread with one, and a lily with the other.—Chinese Proverb

Through the ages flowers have delighted and empowered us. Shakespeare talks about the sweet smell of roses. The Koran tells us that flowers feed the spirit, while Henry Beecher thought they were the sweetest things God ever made without a soul.

And who could forget the flower children of the sixties with their message of love and peace or the mysticism of oil and incense?

We pay tribute to births and deaths with sprays of these delicate beauties. A bride carries flowers down the aisle and, at the wedding reception, tosses the bouquet, a symbol of eternal love, for someone to catch.

We embroider them on our hand towels. We add them to our lotions and perfumes. We press a rose from a loved one between the pages of a book. We dry lavender from a garden so we’ll have its sweet scent in the dead of winter.

Flowers boost our emotions. Wouldn’t Mondays be easier to deal with if someone sent us a bright, scented floral bouquet to set on our desk?

Besides their intrinsic appeal, they are valued by the homeopathic community for their healing qualities. They are used for purification and rituals.

Myths and legends abound around the eternal flower.

In Flower Power, you will discover the wonders and uses of flowers such as gardens, aromatherapy, edibles, crafts, their personal language and the carnivores of the plant kingdom.

Bad news? Did I mention it’s too pukeably hot to wear my scarlet pythons?

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I have this belief…

…that the most powerful person in a room is the one you don’t notice straight away. They’re usually quietly observing everyone, taking mental notes and sussing out each person. These people are generally average to look at and there’s nothing flashy about the way they dress but when they open their mouths to speak – oh man – look out. They are the most eloquent and fascinating people. And smart? Oh yeah. They use they’re so called ‘average’ looks almost in a chameleon way. You never know what will happen next. These people fascinate me.

Look at Mona. She’s not conventionally beautiful and yet we have been captivated by her for years. What is she thinking behind those eyes and that half smile?

You can have all the beauty in the world but smarts and quick thinking kicks beauty’s arse every time. So, if someone indicates you’re not beautiful take it as a compliment. You have more power than you imagine. Watch, look, listen and learn then when people least expect it make your move. That’s true power.

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Run the Gauntlet by Amarinda Jones

Run the Gauntlet by Amarinda Jones

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Finding the madness within…

“That rush of adrenaline as you know you are doing something totally insane but you are pretty sure – sort-of-sure - you can pull it off.”

A friend said this today and I thought to myself I cannot remember the last crazy, adrenaline filled thing I did. You know what I mean - something that was so mad that you wondered how you managed to get out in one piece or without being booked by the cops or being able to walk straight. I’ve gotten so staid and boring. But then that happens, doesn’t it? In the pursuit of trying to be a grown up and make sure you set yourself up for life, you tend to misplace the madness within. We get so busy, busy, busy with boring life things we tend to forget to do some silly, dumb arsed things to make our pulses race as we then try to extricate ourselves from the situation we thrust ourselves into.

So I’ve resolved to do something really outrageous to get out of the rut I’m in. I just have to think what. Any suggestions…that are fairly legal…

I am here today...spruiking on as I do...

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Some dumb arsed men…

I was half watching this TV show about men who use the insecurities that women have to manipulate them into having sex. The host was going on about how this was more and more common in today’s society and all I could think of ‘has this man been living under a rock?’ This has been happening since day dot. Some men are just pigs…it doesn’t matter what century.

He was also quite alarmed at the attitude these men had in that if the women wanted to have sex with them these men expected the women to pay for dinner. Now I’m all for equality but no man I know of is worth me buying dinner for and there ain’t no way that’s a prelim to sex.

The host was saying that ‘women can’t trust men any more.’ I don’t agree with that. Some men you can never trust. Others are keepers...maybe they’re harder to find but they’re out there quietly waiting.

What do you reckon happens to players or the Peter Pans, as I call them, once they get old? Are they alone? Are they still trying to crack onto anything in a skirt? Do their penises drop off through overuse? Or do they get to a point where they settle down with some stoic woman who is a wake up to them? Sad little boys…

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The last tattoo...

Hallelujah and pass the gin…it’s Friday and I have the day off. Woo-hoo. The plan Stan is to do a lot of stuff in a short period …busy, busy, busy. And – its tattoo day – the last one…upper right arm – dramatic blood red rose with twirly black bits – all very gothic. I like twirly bits. I am scheduled to be inked after the zombie. I may turn up a bit early to watch the zombie being done. I feel that’s something you shouldn’t miss. And yes, this is the last tatt. Four is enough – mainly ‘cause there is nowhere else I want another one. Though, helpful friends have suggested one on my arse or on a boob. I don’t think areas that sag are conducive to tattooing...call me crazy but it’s just a theory I have. Gravity is a bitch. What will I do next? ’Not sure but those who know me have total faith in the fact that it will be a head shaking event. Keep ‘em guessing is my motto.

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Read the bloody contract....

Have I got your attention? Excellent. Contracts - specifically book contracts. I'm quite fascinated by the fact that a lot of writers don’t seem to read them properly or they just remember the bits they want to. Yes, yes, it's all selective reading and controlled by moods but it often fascinates me how many writers feel clauses do not apply to them because, well...they just don't. They apply to ‘everyone else’ or I cannot 'see that clause' or ‘your contract must be different to mine.’ Bollocks. Unless you are a well known writer and have a team of lawyers writing your contracts then 99% of the time you are going to get a standard contract that every writer for that publisher gets. Yes, sure you may be able to negotiate royalties but the rest is pretty much set in stone - so sticking your head in the sand and refusing to see clauses is just going to get you in trouble. You don’t like the contract from the publisher? Then don’t write for them. It is your right to place your work where you feel it fits best and offers the best return for your effort.

The romance writing world is a hard, tough, non-pretty business. Don’t make it any worse by electing to do dumb arsed things that go against your contract or common business practice. Not sure of a clause? Ask an expert. Don't assume...we all know where that gets you. But, as always the bottom line is it's up to the writer. Read and question - or act in haste and regret it. Am I perfect? Hell no - but I read my bloody contracts.

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Prisoner of the Heart…

…haven’t we all been a captive of our feelings at one time or the other wanting and desiring something but not being sure if it’s the right thing for us or even if we want to go through the whole crapaciousness of love. Yep. Hearts are traitorous little buggers. You sometimes fall in love with the last person you expect to.

Author Anny Cook has a brand new release out today. It’s all about hearts and passion and flat out raw, oh-my-god-how-is-that-possible-emotional sex. ‘Gotta love that. Click on the cover to buy.

Prisoner of the Heart

When Rebecca Iversen graduated from college, she headed home with nothing on her mind but wedding plans. Less than a month later her plans were in ruins when she discovered she was pregnant the same week her fiance was arrested for selling drugs. Anxious to provide legitimacy for her child, she married Tom while he was still in jail. Years later, Becky finally divorced him, resolved to make a peaceful life for her children and herself.
When the reunion invitation from Karen arrived in her e-mail, her Aunt Mary urged her to take the time to enjoy a little adult time at the reunion.

Young Joe Harris lived across the street from the old Victorian where Becky lived during college. He spent those years secretly yearning for the “older woman”. Now that Becky is back and single, Joe plans to do everything in his power to convince her that he’s exactly the man she needs.

I love a man with a plan….

*************************

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Captain Jack and Emmy Lou...

I got a curious email from another writer - let's call her Emmy Lou - about the cover of Shiver Me. She asked me was I aware how much the cover looked like Captain Jack Sparrow? Why yes, I am. Emmy Lou indicated to me in less than subtle terms that I was ‘cashing in on’ the popularity of Jack Sparrow. Uh-huh...

This is curious to me because you could paste the 'cashing in on' label on every genre that is being written or published right now from vampire to doctor/nurse romance. There ain’t nothing new under the sun when it comes to books. In fact you could say, if you wanted to argue the point, that every romance writer is ‘cashing in on’ the phenomena of love. How so? We're writing about a universal desire that people have to be wanted, needed and cherished. We crave love and desire. Or you could argue that people like to read romance books as a hobby and a form of relaxation and therefore ‘cashing in on’ is a load of codswallop. Or you could just enjoy the books without analysing it all too deeply because life is too short for all that shite.

As for covers? You could say writers ‘cash in on’ the fact that women want to see naked male chests, bums, thighs or just a handsome face. Hmmm...so where do we draw the line Emmy Lou?

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Of love and scarlet pythons…

So, I was really stupid this year and fell in love with someone. Forehead slap - what a dumb arse...no really, I was. I roll my eyes at how pathetic I was over this man. I would never let any of my heroines be so dumb. Ah, if only you could write in the right man for you. Anyway it occurred to me today, as I was crawling around on my hands and knees tiling the bathroom floor, I don’t love him any more. Finally. No, I don’t think it was breathing in the tiling adhesive that made me come to that realization but it was a really nice moment when it occurred to me he no longer affects me as he once did. About bloody time. Jeez, love sucks doesn’t it? “Better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all?” Hmm…I don’t think so…

….in light of this revelation I bought myself the boots above. I got them for a fantastic price on an eBay auction. I think scarlet python Doc Marten boots make everything seem right with the world.

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Ok…

…after a short break and a looooooong discussion with a wise, pushy friend who knows me better than I know myself, the blog is back with a new look but not a new Amarinda. I’m remain my usual pissy self.



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Taking a break...

...back soonish...

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Have a good Sunday...

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