First Night Story Trailer

I finally got with the program and created my own book trailer and uploaded it on YouTube. This was an experiment as I was teaching myself a flash program that I probably won’t use again, LOL. I think I prefer Roxio. But here it is … only 32 seconds long, which is apropos for a short story, don’t you think?

I learned a lot while making it, and hopefully will be able to apply that knowledge to one for Private Property, and then Personal Protection. Yes, you caught me, I’ve found more ways to keep procrastinating from writing. I think I found Bonnie Staring another ‘Excuse of the week’.

Don’t forget you can download First Night here. (But hang on to your old copy if you downloaded it before six pm yesterday, it may be worth something – that cover itself is now a ‘collectors’ item that may win you something when I hold my first contest.)

Oh, and here’s a short blurb about it:

Was it the excitement of the New Year or stubborn pride that drove Jodi Tyler to challenge her boss? But when the clock strikes midnight, and the ball drops on Times Square, has Jodi Tyler won the bet or lost her heart?

Oh, and you just HAVE to go over and download Inez Kelley’sTo Cop a Kiss” today. It’s absolutely hilarious and such fresh writing! Here’s a writer to watch in the future! (Plus her website has man-candy!)

First Night released today!

I’m blogging over at the new Samhellion blog today in the first of what will be a regular monthly blogging session. Come read, leave a comment, then continue on over to The Samhellion and download my New Year’s Eve story, First Night, to get a sneak peak at Private Property‘s Jodi Tyler and Mark Rodriguez and an insight into how they began their no-strings-attached affair.

First Night will be on the front page of The Samhellion today, then it’ll move to the Free ebooks section. But I’ll give you fair warning, it’s steamy hot. It takes place in Texas after all.

If you download it now, you get the special edition cover with my name spelled as Leah Brahmel instead of Leah Braemel.

**Edited** the fixed version with my name spelled correctly is now up for download.

The Well’s Running Dry

I’ve been blogging almost two years now and I had it in the back of my head that blogging would get easier.

I was wrong.

Tomorrow I’m scheduled to post my very first blog over on the new Samhellion blog. I’m starting to panic because right now I have nothing. Nada. Zip. I’m so used to writing about Gizmo Guy gizmos, or Guitar Hero’s antics that anything I write not referring to them comes out more like a thesis. Plus you know already that I’m rather, um, long-winded both on my blog and in real life. A good blog runs around 500 words, just long enough to hook a reader without intimidating them with a lengthy post. Trouble is I can’t ask directions to the bathroom in less than 1000 words. Not to mention that this week I’ve not even been able to come up with anything interesting to post to THIS blog. Ugh.

You’d think I’d have a lot to talk about, wouldn’t you? After all, I’ve got a free New Year’s Eve themed short-story coming out tomorrow over at The Samhellion called First Night. I’ve even made a book trailer for it that I hope to put up for you tomorrow. Plus in less than a month, Private Property‘s going to be released. But the blogs on The Samhellion are not supposed to be promo but more chatty. So no excerpts or blatant self-promotion. (Plus I’m wondering just how much good it is to post an excerpt when you can’t even buy the book yet. It’s sort of like dangling chocolates in front of a dieter. Just plain mean.)

I’m guest blogging over at a few other author’s blogs in the next month and when asked if I wanted to write my own blog or be ‘interviewed’ I jumped at the chance to be interviewed rather than go through this hair-pulling stress again. So I’ve been filling out questionnaires/interviews with some of the toughest questions I could have imagined. I mean, how hard can it be to describe your perfect day? But then I start questioning if they mean one I’ve already lived, or one I’d love to live as a writer? Akk! And there goes the word count ballooning again because, being me, I answer it both ways in excruciating detail.

Sometimes I wonder why I’m not writing literary fiction the way my mind wanders. Oh, yeah, becase I like my stories to have a plot, that’s why. (How’s that for a non sequitur?)

And now a total change of direction, here’s one of my favorite cartoons – the Animaniacs. This one is Yakko singing the dictionary. Because sometimes I think I’ve used every word in the dictionary on this blog. (And just how long did it take them to get everything to rhyme and fit the timing?)

Tick tock, tick tock

Christmas in the Braemel house was a blast this year. I did lots of baking, but even so the chocolate macaroons and double batch of peanut butter cookies I made didn’t last until Christmas morning. We had only one minor glitch this year. Gizmo Guy and I bought Curly a new digital camera to take with him on his school band trip to Florida. We checked out the floor model in the store and compared shopped and did all the responsible parent-y things, then when we’d made our decision the sales clerk handed us a box – in a sealed plastic security container – to take to the cash register. The cashier undid the theft device and rang up the sale, then we took the box home and wrapped it. Yeah, should have checked the box before wrapping it, because when Curly opened the box on Christmas day, the box contained a rechargeable battery and the adapter etc. but no camera. Good thing that wasn’t his only present that day. (When we took the camera box back to the store along with the receipt, the store gave us no problems and very promptly handed us a new camera box and ensured everything was there. Phew!)

When Shelley Munro had me as a guest over on her blog, I wrote about a reasonably new tradition we started as the kids were growing out of the “Santa’s coming” stage. In a nutshell, if someone’s getting an ‘extra special’ gift, we hide it and the recipient has to ensure a Treasure Hunt through the house – sometimes following clues left in strategic places – to find it.

This year – for the first time – Gizmo Guy and the boys played the Treasure Hunt trick on me. Guitar Hero knew that GG and I had said that for our twenty-fifth anniversary we wanted to buy ourselves a grandfather clock. Except that year GG had been laid off, so we’d said we’d get one for our thirtiest anniversary. But when we celebrated that this year and we started pricing them, we just couldn’t justify spending three thousand dollars (Canadian) for one. So a couple weeks ago, I got a call at 6:45 a.m. from Guitar Hero asking me to come pick him up at the Walmart where he works. He needed to ask me something about a present he wanted to buy me. Turned out Walmart sells grandfather clocks, and they don’t cost three thousand bucks. I had to laugh at the time because it was so cute, and I was also touched that he’d thought about me enough to ask me if I’d ‘settle’ for one bought at Walmart. I said, “Yes, it was probably the only way I’d ever get a grandfather clock – other than the miniature on my fireplace mantel.” So we trucked it home that day and it has been hidden in Guitar Hero’s room ever since.

When I came down Christmas morning, there was the huge – and it was frickin’ huge – present for me in the middle of the living room floor. Guitar Hero and Curly made a show of hauling it in front of me when I sat down on the living room couch. Now, because of the way my parents didn’t like celebrating Christmas, I tend to open my presents really slowly to prolong the moment. Trying very hard not to tear the paper, I carefully unwrap one present then turn my attention to watching everyone else rip over their gifts. So by the time everyone else is done, I still have several unopened presents surrounding me.

This Christmas Day was no exception, and I left the largest package for the last. I removed the paper and frowned.

“The top wasn’t ripped like that when we brought it home,” I said.

“Ah, no, we had a bit of a problem when we were bringing it down the stairs,” Guitar Hero replied.

What a sucker I am. I bought his story and lifted one of the flaps, and then removed the large sheet of styrofoam protecting the …. weight lifting set?

Yup, they’d removed the clock and put about fifty pounds of weights in its place. (Curly informed me later that my laugh qualified for the ‘evil cackle of the year’ award.) They’d assembled the clock and left it for me to find – no clues. But really? There’s not many places in our house where they could hide a six foot tall clock. It was standing in front of the fireplace in the family room. I’ve spent the last two days trying to figure out where it would best be showcased. I would have preferred it to be in the living room as its cherrywood case matches my curio cabinet and the rest of the furniture there, but the only place it would fit would be beside the treadmill (only place IT would go too, not that I want it in my living room.) So now it’s standing in the upstairs hallway between GG’s and my bedroom and Guitar Hero’s bedroom. It’ll be interesting to see if its chiming keeps him awake during the day. So it may not be there permanently.

So now if you’re on the phone me with over the hour changeover, you’ll have to endure a symphony of my cuckoo clock cuckooing (the one that works), my mantel clock, the chiming wall clock in the living room, and my grandfather clock. Of course, as Marley will attest to after talking with me at two o’clock this afternoon, none of them chime at exactly the same time. Talk about a cacophony.