DEAD ON THE DELTA is out today!
Want to win a copy?
Head on over to Jennifer Estep's Blog:
http://www.jenniferestep.com/2011/05/guest-blog-secrets-and-lies-and-more-secrets-about-lies-that-are-secret/
Comment and win and have a fabulous day and whoo-hoo and whee and boo-yaa<--Yes. I'm a little rushed today. 6 is playing Daddy Warbucks tonight (it's the night of the show ya'll!) and my mother is visiting and the house is all aflutter.
Back soon, and thanks for all the reader email about DEAD! I'll respond to each and every one of you by next week at the latest.
Happy Tuesday!
Stacey Jay
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Monday, May 30, 2011
An early DEAD ON THE DELTA review!
Here's a snippet from the Fantasy Literature Blog's review of DEAD ON THE DELTA (read the full review here):
"The plot is relentlessly tense. As Annabelle’s official work and unofficial snooping lead her closer to the heart of the mystery, Jay never misses an opportunity to throw another obstacle or twist into Annabelle’s path. It’s dangerous to read this book just before bed. Not because you’ll have nightmares — though that’s possible too — but because you’ll find yourself saying “just one more chapter” over and over until you suddenly realize it’s some ludicrous hour of the morning.
Also remarkable is the real-life grit Jay adds to Dead on the Delta by making Donaldsonville’s problems so frighteningly plausible, except for the fairy aspect. The fairies became dangerous because of pollution and terrorist attacks on chemical plants; Hurricane Katrina has its role to play in the novel’s tweaked history; and the rise of the drug Breeze, made from fairy dung, is analogous to the meth epidemic.
Stacey Jay has the start of something really special here, between the creative take on fairies, the flawed but sympathetic heroine, and the gritty sense of a disaster-ravaged Louisiana. Dead on the Delta is a hard-to-put-down “rural fantasy” that I can wholeheartedly recommend. —Kelly Lasiter
Thanks so much Kelly!
There are a few reasons I was thrilled to see this review:
1. Kelly is the first reviewer to realize that the reason for the fairy mutations *is* actually explained in the text. (Whew! I was starting to think that I had committed the sin of being too subtle with my explanation. I don't like to beat readers up-side the head with the world-building, but there is such a thing as too subtle.)
2. Kelly liked Annabelle. Annabelle is a mess--though working toward being less of a mess--and I was worried people might find her unlikable. Still, I really wanted to show her at rock bottom in this first book. It's part of the journey, you know?
3. Kelly liked the secondary characters! (I so want to write more of these books. The secondary characters are friends to me now, especially as I'm getting close to finishing book 2, BLOOD ON THE BAYOU.)
So yeah! What a great review to catch via Google alert the day before release, eh?
Hope you all had a lovely Memorial Day!
Best,
Stacey Jay
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Housekeeping-Dead on the Delta Countdown
Hey all,
Just a quick post today. I'm headed out of town for my first real break in several months and won't be online. But I wanted to remind everyone that DEAD ON THE DELTA comes out in less than a week! (May 31). (And I needed to make the religion post not the first thing people saw while I was gone for five days. You know how it is. The raw stuff can't stay at the top of the page for too long or it starts to corrode the blog<--proven fact, proven by blog scientists in a real life lab setting where things can be PROVED.)
Anyway! So the book is coming out, and I'm starting to hear from readers and so far, so good! I really do hope people enjoy this read. The mix of mystery, suspense, romance, and humor is something I worked hard on with this one.
Also, I'm happy to announce that BLOOD ON THE BAYOU, the sequel to DEAD, is presently set for an April 2012 release date. So you won't have to wait *quite* a year for book two. Assuming I meet my next deadline of course...
*prepares mind to make another 2000 words before 10 a.m. meeting*
I hope all of you have a wonderful rest of your week and weekend and I will be back on Monday or Tuesday. I've got a TON of DEAD ON THE DELTA magnets to give away and I'm going to need your help deciding where to send them. So if your RWA chapter or your reading group or any other group of people to which you belong would like some magnets, prepare to think about contacting me once I'm prepared and make the call for magnet-wanting contact.
And now, some stuff about DEAD ON THE DELTA in case you forgot the stuff since the last time I posted about it a week or so ago.
Cover copy:
Just a quick post today. I'm headed out of town for my first real break in several months and won't be online. But I wanted to remind everyone that DEAD ON THE DELTA comes out in less than a week! (May 31). (And I needed to make the religion post not the first thing people saw while I was gone for five days. You know how it is. The raw stuff can't stay at the top of the page for too long or it starts to corrode the blog<--proven fact, proven by blog scientists in a real life lab setting where things can be PROVED.)
Anyway! So the book is coming out, and I'm starting to hear from readers and so far, so good! I really do hope people enjoy this read. The mix of mystery, suspense, romance, and humor is something I worked hard on with this one.
Also, I'm happy to announce that BLOOD ON THE BAYOU, the sequel to DEAD, is presently set for an April 2012 release date. So you won't have to wait *quite* a year for book two. Assuming I meet my next deadline of course...
*prepares mind to make another 2000 words before 10 a.m. meeting*
I hope all of you have a wonderful rest of your week and weekend and I will be back on Monday or Tuesday. I've got a TON of DEAD ON THE DELTA magnets to give away and I'm going to need your help deciding where to send them. So if your RWA chapter or your reading group or any other group of people to which you belong would like some magnets, prepare to think about contacting me once I'm prepared and make the call for magnet-wanting contact.
And now, some stuff about DEAD ON THE DELTA in case you forgot the stuff since the last time I posted about it a week or so ago.
"A sultry start to a promising new series. DEAD ON THE DELTA sizzles with action, danger, and romance." -Jennifer Estep, author of Elemental Assassins
"Unflinching and unforgettable, DEAD ON THE DELTA gnawed its way into
my heart with writing sharp as fairy fangs. Annabelle's biting wit
covers an uncommonly raw, achingly real vulnerability. Stacey Jay's
steamy bayou world will make readers sweat--in fear for the next
corpse, and in anticipation for a sequel!"
--Jeri Smith-Ready, author of WVMP Radio and Shade
Cover copy:
Once upon a time, fairies were the stuff of bedtime stories and sweet dreams. Then came the mutations, and the dreams became nightmares. Mosquito-size fairies now indulge their taste for human blood—and for most humans, a fairy bite means insanity or death.
Luckily, Annabelle Lee isn’t most humans. The hard-drinking, smart-mouthed, bicycle-riding redhead is immune to fairy venom, and able to do the dirty work most humans can’t. Including helping law enforcement— and Cane Cooper, the bayou’s sexiest detective—collect evidence when a body is discovered outside the fairy-proof barricades of her Louisiana town.
But Annabelle isn’t equipped to deal with the murder of a six-year-old girl or a former lover-turned-FBI snob taking an interest in the case. Suddenly her already bumpy relationship with Cane turns even rockier, and even the most trust-worthy friends become suspects. Annabelle’s life is imploding: between relationship drama, a heartbreaking murder investigation, Breeze-crazed drug runners, and a few too many rum and Cokes, Annabelle is a woman on the run—from her past, toward her future, and into the arms of a darkness waiting just for her. . . .
Order at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and IndieboundMonday, May 23, 2011
Sparkling Agnostic!
Okay.
I probably shouldn't do this. But I've written 20 different versions of this post in the past few years and it's time. I'm going to talk about religion. Or lack thereof. (Warning: This is a Long One.)
Let's take a trip down Religious Memories Lane, shall we?
Stacey Jay, 7 years old:
It's my first year of Sunday School. My family lived waaaayyy out in the country previously, and my parents hadn't bothered dragging my sister and I to church. But upon moving to Arkansas, they were looking for a way to plug into the community and church seemed like a good idea.
For me? Not so good. I spent most of each "lesson portion" of that first year of class asking the teacher questions and nicely being told to "be quiet." At one point, my mother was even fetched from her own Sunday School class to enforce the "be quiet" order because I was having a hysterical fit about Noah and the Ark. They'd just spent all these months telling me Jesus loved me and NOW they tell me that God sent a flood to KILL ALL THE BABIES IN THE WORLD? What kind of freaking god was this? Why was everyone else in class OKAY with this?!
My mom comforted me, spent a couple hours that Sunday afternoon explaining that much of what I was learning in class she considered metaphorical teaching--that the stories weren't true, just made up to illustrate various moral truths and lessons. Being a precocious child, I could go along with this, but that left a very troubling seed in my brain.
If the stories were just stories and not necessarily true, then what else was a lie? What other parts of this whole "god" thing were false, devised to teach me to be good and not further a loving relationship with a benevolent creator? And why did so many grown ups believe the stories were true if they weren't? How could my Sunday School teacher INSIST that the snake in the garden was actually a real snake that walked on two legs? How could she say unicorns never existed, but this walking talking snake allegedly did?
My mind boggled.
Stacey Jay, Age 9
Mind continues to boggle as religious "education" continues and I'm told my best friend, Betsy, is going to hell. Because she's Jewish. Mom once again tells me this is CRAZY, and all the people at my church are simply misguided.
But...how can ALL the people at my church be misguided? We're talking thousands of people, all saying the same thing--with various degrees of anger or sadness or compassion for the poor Jews who will never know Jesus. How could they be wrong and my mom be right?
More importantly, why did I get the awful feeling that they were ALL wrong. My mom included...
Stacey Jay, Age 10
I make a mistake in school. One of the oddest (and most unpopular, of course) girls in fourth grade has been following me around the playground, often hugging me inappropriately. I know this girl is troubled and not quite right and I try very hard to be nice to her. But I do NOT like being teased about being this girl's best friend by the other kids. I'm still pretty new to the school and already a nerdy advanced reader and taller than almost EVERY other girl and I have boobs. Freaking boobs and I hate them and I spend most of my life skulking around hunched over hoping no one will notice them (but that's another blog post).
So, turning to humor for protection, I perform an impromptu slapstick routine at the front of the class one day while the teacher is out, miming a wind up kick to the other girl's butt as she sharpens her pencil.
I didn't kick her, never intended to. I did it to make the other kids laugh, and succeeded in distancing myself from association with the poor damaged girl.
Was this awful? Hell, yes. Was I ashamed of myself when I got caught by the teacher and sent to the counselor's office? Yes. Completely, yes. Deep, deep shame. And I would have had shame, even if I hadn't been caught.
But did I deserve to be shoved to my knees and told I was a wicked little girl who should be praying to god to forgive her? No. A resounding no. That counselor's religion had no place in that disciplinary moment. And neither did her hands, for that matter.
I remember the moment very, very clearly, how she peered into my face and said God's gifts were wasted on me. Here I was, such a beautiful little girl and so smart and had such a loving family and that little girl had nothing and how dare I?
Thing was, I didn't see myself as beautiful. (I remember watching a video of myself at 10 years old later--I think I was 20 or 21--and being SHOCKED by how gorgeous I was. In my ten year old mind, however, I was a horror. A disgusting, wrong thing and I feel pretty confident saying religion was a big part of that. Feeling like the lone doubting freak every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday from 5-8:30, with additional church retreats and socials thrown in, WILL affect a child's psyche.) The counselor didn't care to learn that about me, however. Or to learn that I was teased almost as mercilessly as the other girl or that my joke was actually a misguided attempt at social survival. She simply used religion as a tool to break me, the way so many people can and do use religion to manipulate other people's behavior.
Even if this manipulation has a positive effect--to stop teasing, prevent crime, etc--it is still manipulation.
Stacey Jay, Age 12
It's time to get baptized. I can't put it off any longer, but Jesus Christ (ha! little joke there) did I want to. But by now, everyone else in my class has been baptized forever. They have accepted Jesus as their personal savior. I am starting to get singled out. Me and the foster kid who just came to church for the first time this year are the lone non-anointed ones and he's scheduled to get dunked in a month!
I get frantic. I meet with the pastor--Brother Williams, bless his heart he was so patient with me--and try to work through all my concerns. He spends hours with me, but he can't answer my questions and finally tells me "You simply have to have faith."
Faith. Okay. Faith.
I take a deep breath. I sign the papers. I am scheduled to get dunked the same day as the foster kid.
We hold hands while we wait. He's incredibly cute. I believe I might be in love. We've never held hands before, but in that moment we share a kinship. I can see in his eyes that he doesn't want the dunking any more than I do. I ask him if he's nervous. He says "no." I can tell he means "yes." We both go through with it. He refuses to talk to me later, and acts like I'm crazy when I remind him about the whole "hand holding" thing.
I don't feel any closer to salvation.
Faaaasssttt forward (because I know this is getting long):
More teen struggles with religion, but I'm quiet about it now. I've learned to bite my lip and fit in. I'm not a nerd anymore. I have a great group of friends--some who are openly non-religious and who I envy for having the strength to stop pretending while I continue to attend church regularly and pray for true faith to come. I'm fairly popular, date a lot, do the extracurricular thing. Very normal in many ways.
Except for the aching pit of doubt in my god-damned stomach. I cry a lot about boys, but I cry more about god. I want to believe. I want to be like everyone else. I want the comfort of faith. It eludes me. No matter how many religious texts I read. No matter how much time I spend in prayer, no matter how many debates I have with my friend, Jill, who vehemently assures me that I'm insane for still trying to "jump on the Jesus" bandwagon.
Stacey Jay, age 21
My father is dead. The doubt pit opens up and swallows me whole. It's a lie. All of it. A fucking lie and my father is dead and what do I do? Because I KNOW I will never see him again. I sense I may be a part of him again, in some universal energy type of way, but at 21 that's not enough. It's not enough and I am so so sad. And I miss him. And I'm not equipped to deal.
Years of religious searching ensues. I denounce Christianity. Toy with becoming something else. Study a lot. Live in an ashram and cook food for large groups of sweetly stoned people who are kind to me and full of love and what feels like god, but still their doctrine rings false. But the love they give? So real. Unselfish. Unjudging.
I decide to try to be a Lover. Not a Christian or a Buddhist or anything else. Just a Lover.
But sometimes I fail. Sometimes I mock the religious in a way I shouldn't. But it is only because humor can sometimes be the only way to stay sane in a world that, from my brain's perception, is absolutely insane.
Imagine for a moment that you are transported back to Ancient Greece and people live in fear of Mighty Zeus and politicians use the threat of Olympian anger to further their own agenda. (Yes, Tea Party, I'm a'lookin' at you.) What would you do? What would you say? What would you feel? Might you try to make a joke now and then, just to ease the tension induced by being pressured to keep your mouth shut and fit in with the generally held belief system?
And remember 83% of Americans identify themselves as Christians. Perhaps there are times when you *feel* like an attacked minority, but that is simply your perception. In reality, you are part of a majority. You have a place to go every Sunday to socialize with like-minded people. You have something to share with your kids that teaches them how to be a good person while offering community and fellowship. You can look at someone's Twitter profile and see "Big Time Christ Follower!" and feel a sense of kinship with them. You belong.
We atheists and agnostics do not. When was the last time you saw a Twitter profile that read "BIG TIME ATHEIST!" or "LOVING THE AGNOSTIC LIFE EVERY DAY!"
You don't. Partly because we are afraid of what you'll think, afraid of the majority and what they'll have to say when we "come out of the closet" so to speak. Partly because this lifestyle ISN'T a big loving fun fest every day. As an agnostic, I feel shut out and alone a lot. I want friends, but I don't want to lie about what I believe and a LOT of people find a lack of one defined faith and all my open-ended questions off-putting. I strive to teach my children to be loving moral people, but I don't have a support system for that. I have to do it all on my own. I can't go to church to meet people in my new town, I can't plug in and let my light shine.
And lest you think I'm being overly concerned about the religious majority and their scariness, when was the last time you heard of a gay person being "beaten in the name of No God?" When was the last time someone bombed a building in the name of Agnosticism? Religion can be terrifying. Back when the Romans burned Christians? Terrifying. Back when the Christians burned witches? Terrifying. When people acting in the name of Islam hijacked planes and crashed them into the Twin Towers? Terrifying. And everyday, someone somewhere--a LOT of someones in a LOT of somewheres--does something heinous in the name of religion.
At home we have the Tea Party and their anti-woman, anti-poor, anti-gay agenda. We're also the home base for the Rapture movement that led to the murder of innocent children and suicide and other insanity last weekend.
So are we non-believers afraid? Yes. We are. We're also angry. To borrow from Buddhist doctrine, the collected karma of what has been done in the name of God in the past centuries is catching up with many of us. Not to mention the collective impact of all the personal, negative experiences with religion that many of us have had. So yes, we have anger, and maybe sometimes our jokes cut a little too close to the bone for some religious people. And they feel disrespected. And I, for one, feel badly about that. It's not right to make other people feel bad just because my personal road is a hard one to walk, and I have so much love for so many Christian (and other religious) people.
But the next time you, as a religious person, feel slighted, please remember two things:
1. It is your belief, not mine, that people who do not share your faith will be treated differently in the afterlife. No matter how "nice" you are about it, that is an inherent part of almost every religion, the belief that your faith entitles you to special reward (or the faithless to special punishment). Whether you're a person who literally believes in hellfire, or the more metaphorical "wasteland of the soul," there's nothing more insulting than inferring--by virtue of your religious affiliation--that an entire group of other people are going to hell. NOTHING. So please. Stop. Think about it. What can be more disrespectful than that pillar of your belief system? To me, we're all in the same boat. You are my equal, my brother or sister in this life journey in every way.
2. Remember how loved you feel. How safe and accepted in your belief and your faith. And think about how it feels to walk this hard road, simply because we non-believers have no other choice. I WANTED to believe. Believe me. My brain just doesn't work that way. I'm sincerely happy for those who have more cooperative brains. I'm sure it feels better to be you than it does to be me.
That said, I am much happier since I've given up my search for faith and decided to let all those questions I've lived with since I was little stay open and unanswered. I try to make the most of my one life. I try to give the people I love (and my readers, who I also love) everything I have. I honestly want nothing more than to spread good vibes. That's why I have hesitated for so long to say any of the things I've just said.
But sometimes I think getting angry and upset and telling your personal truth is a way of spreading good vibes.
If even one other woman went into the shower and cried today (the way I did) after seeing all the backlash from the non-Raptured people who are tired of their religion being mocked, and she reads this post and feels less alone, then I'm glad this is going out into the world.
This is my testimony. And it is one I have earned the right to give.
Don't tell me to be quiet and respectful. The respect, I will endeavor to give, though at times your very faith feels like a slap in the face (Really. Hell. Literally or figuratively that's a ROUGH thing to ask another person to believe that you believe about their afterlife and still be all touchy feely huggy together).
But respect is good. You're right. I will try. I promise. I am, however, utterly weary of the silence.
Stacey Jay
Sparkling Agnostic of Ten Years
I probably shouldn't do this. But I've written 20 different versions of this post in the past few years and it's time. I'm going to talk about religion. Or lack thereof. (Warning: This is a Long One.)
Let's take a trip down Religious Memories Lane, shall we?
Stacey Jay, 7 years old:
It's my first year of Sunday School. My family lived waaaayyy out in the country previously, and my parents hadn't bothered dragging my sister and I to church. But upon moving to Arkansas, they were looking for a way to plug into the community and church seemed like a good idea.
For me? Not so good. I spent most of each "lesson portion" of that first year of class asking the teacher questions and nicely being told to "be quiet." At one point, my mother was even fetched from her own Sunday School class to enforce the "be quiet" order because I was having a hysterical fit about Noah and the Ark. They'd just spent all these months telling me Jesus loved me and NOW they tell me that God sent a flood to KILL ALL THE BABIES IN THE WORLD? What kind of freaking god was this? Why was everyone else in class OKAY with this?!
My mom comforted me, spent a couple hours that Sunday afternoon explaining that much of what I was learning in class she considered metaphorical teaching--that the stories weren't true, just made up to illustrate various moral truths and lessons. Being a precocious child, I could go along with this, but that left a very troubling seed in my brain.
If the stories were just stories and not necessarily true, then what else was a lie? What other parts of this whole "god" thing were false, devised to teach me to be good and not further a loving relationship with a benevolent creator? And why did so many grown ups believe the stories were true if they weren't? How could my Sunday School teacher INSIST that the snake in the garden was actually a real snake that walked on two legs? How could she say unicorns never existed, but this walking talking snake allegedly did?
My mind boggled.
Stacey Jay, Age 9
Mind continues to boggle as religious "education" continues and I'm told my best friend, Betsy, is going to hell. Because she's Jewish. Mom once again tells me this is CRAZY, and all the people at my church are simply misguided.
But...how can ALL the people at my church be misguided? We're talking thousands of people, all saying the same thing--with various degrees of anger or sadness or compassion for the poor Jews who will never know Jesus. How could they be wrong and my mom be right?
More importantly, why did I get the awful feeling that they were ALL wrong. My mom included...
Stacey Jay, Age 10
I make a mistake in school. One of the oddest (and most unpopular, of course) girls in fourth grade has been following me around the playground, often hugging me inappropriately. I know this girl is troubled and not quite right and I try very hard to be nice to her. But I do NOT like being teased about being this girl's best friend by the other kids. I'm still pretty new to the school and already a nerdy advanced reader and taller than almost EVERY other girl and I have boobs. Freaking boobs and I hate them and I spend most of my life skulking around hunched over hoping no one will notice them (but that's another blog post).
So, turning to humor for protection, I perform an impromptu slapstick routine at the front of the class one day while the teacher is out, miming a wind up kick to the other girl's butt as she sharpens her pencil.
I didn't kick her, never intended to. I did it to make the other kids laugh, and succeeded in distancing myself from association with the poor damaged girl.
Was this awful? Hell, yes. Was I ashamed of myself when I got caught by the teacher and sent to the counselor's office? Yes. Completely, yes. Deep, deep shame. And I would have had shame, even if I hadn't been caught.
But did I deserve to be shoved to my knees and told I was a wicked little girl who should be praying to god to forgive her? No. A resounding no. That counselor's religion had no place in that disciplinary moment. And neither did her hands, for that matter.
I remember the moment very, very clearly, how she peered into my face and said God's gifts were wasted on me. Here I was, such a beautiful little girl and so smart and had such a loving family and that little girl had nothing and how dare I?
Thing was, I didn't see myself as beautiful. (I remember watching a video of myself at 10 years old later--I think I was 20 or 21--and being SHOCKED by how gorgeous I was. In my ten year old mind, however, I was a horror. A disgusting, wrong thing and I feel pretty confident saying religion was a big part of that. Feeling like the lone doubting freak every Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday from 5-8:30, with additional church retreats and socials thrown in, WILL affect a child's psyche.) The counselor didn't care to learn that about me, however. Or to learn that I was teased almost as mercilessly as the other girl or that my joke was actually a misguided attempt at social survival. She simply used religion as a tool to break me, the way so many people can and do use religion to manipulate other people's behavior.
Even if this manipulation has a positive effect--to stop teasing, prevent crime, etc--it is still manipulation.
Stacey Jay, Age 12
It's time to get baptized. I can't put it off any longer, but Jesus Christ (ha! little joke there) did I want to. But by now, everyone else in my class has been baptized forever. They have accepted Jesus as their personal savior. I am starting to get singled out. Me and the foster kid who just came to church for the first time this year are the lone non-anointed ones and he's scheduled to get dunked in a month!
I get frantic. I meet with the pastor--Brother Williams, bless his heart he was so patient with me--and try to work through all my concerns. He spends hours with me, but he can't answer my questions and finally tells me "You simply have to have faith."
Faith. Okay. Faith.
I take a deep breath. I sign the papers. I am scheduled to get dunked the same day as the foster kid.
We hold hands while we wait. He's incredibly cute. I believe I might be in love. We've never held hands before, but in that moment we share a kinship. I can see in his eyes that he doesn't want the dunking any more than I do. I ask him if he's nervous. He says "no." I can tell he means "yes." We both go through with it. He refuses to talk to me later, and acts like I'm crazy when I remind him about the whole "hand holding" thing.
I don't feel any closer to salvation.
Faaaasssttt forward (because I know this is getting long):
More teen struggles with religion, but I'm quiet about it now. I've learned to bite my lip and fit in. I'm not a nerd anymore. I have a great group of friends--some who are openly non-religious and who I envy for having the strength to stop pretending while I continue to attend church regularly and pray for true faith to come. I'm fairly popular, date a lot, do the extracurricular thing. Very normal in many ways.
Except for the aching pit of doubt in my god-damned stomach. I cry a lot about boys, but I cry more about god. I want to believe. I want to be like everyone else. I want the comfort of faith. It eludes me. No matter how many religious texts I read. No matter how much time I spend in prayer, no matter how many debates I have with my friend, Jill, who vehemently assures me that I'm insane for still trying to "jump on the Jesus" bandwagon.
Stacey Jay, age 21
My father is dead. The doubt pit opens up and swallows me whole. It's a lie. All of it. A fucking lie and my father is dead and what do I do? Because I KNOW I will never see him again. I sense I may be a part of him again, in some universal energy type of way, but at 21 that's not enough. It's not enough and I am so so sad. And I miss him. And I'm not equipped to deal.
Years of religious searching ensues. I denounce Christianity. Toy with becoming something else. Study a lot. Live in an ashram and cook food for large groups of sweetly stoned people who are kind to me and full of love and what feels like god, but still their doctrine rings false. But the love they give? So real. Unselfish. Unjudging.
I decide to try to be a Lover. Not a Christian or a Buddhist or anything else. Just a Lover.
But sometimes I fail. Sometimes I mock the religious in a way I shouldn't. But it is only because humor can sometimes be the only way to stay sane in a world that, from my brain's perception, is absolutely insane.
Imagine for a moment that you are transported back to Ancient Greece and people live in fear of Mighty Zeus and politicians use the threat of Olympian anger to further their own agenda. (Yes, Tea Party, I'm a'lookin' at you.) What would you do? What would you say? What would you feel? Might you try to make a joke now and then, just to ease the tension induced by being pressured to keep your mouth shut and fit in with the generally held belief system?
And remember 83% of Americans identify themselves as Christians. Perhaps there are times when you *feel* like an attacked minority, but that is simply your perception. In reality, you are part of a majority. You have a place to go every Sunday to socialize with like-minded people. You have something to share with your kids that teaches them how to be a good person while offering community and fellowship. You can look at someone's Twitter profile and see "Big Time Christ Follower!" and feel a sense of kinship with them. You belong.
We atheists and agnostics do not. When was the last time you saw a Twitter profile that read "BIG TIME ATHEIST!" or "LOVING THE AGNOSTIC LIFE EVERY DAY!"
You don't. Partly because we are afraid of what you'll think, afraid of the majority and what they'll have to say when we "come out of the closet" so to speak. Partly because this lifestyle ISN'T a big loving fun fest every day. As an agnostic, I feel shut out and alone a lot. I want friends, but I don't want to lie about what I believe and a LOT of people find a lack of one defined faith and all my open-ended questions off-putting. I strive to teach my children to be loving moral people, but I don't have a support system for that. I have to do it all on my own. I can't go to church to meet people in my new town, I can't plug in and let my light shine.
And lest you think I'm being overly concerned about the religious majority and their scariness, when was the last time you heard of a gay person being "beaten in the name of No God?" When was the last time someone bombed a building in the name of Agnosticism? Religion can be terrifying. Back when the Romans burned Christians? Terrifying. Back when the Christians burned witches? Terrifying. When people acting in the name of Islam hijacked planes and crashed them into the Twin Towers? Terrifying. And everyday, someone somewhere--a LOT of someones in a LOT of somewheres--does something heinous in the name of religion.
At home we have the Tea Party and their anti-woman, anti-poor, anti-gay agenda. We're also the home base for the Rapture movement that led to the murder of innocent children and suicide and other insanity last weekend.
So are we non-believers afraid? Yes. We are. We're also angry. To borrow from Buddhist doctrine, the collected karma of what has been done in the name of God in the past centuries is catching up with many of us. Not to mention the collective impact of all the personal, negative experiences with religion that many of us have had. So yes, we have anger, and maybe sometimes our jokes cut a little too close to the bone for some religious people. And they feel disrespected. And I, for one, feel badly about that. It's not right to make other people feel bad just because my personal road is a hard one to walk, and I have so much love for so many Christian (and other religious) people.
But the next time you, as a religious person, feel slighted, please remember two things:
1. It is your belief, not mine, that people who do not share your faith will be treated differently in the afterlife. No matter how "nice" you are about it, that is an inherent part of almost every religion, the belief that your faith entitles you to special reward (or the faithless to special punishment). Whether you're a person who literally believes in hellfire, or the more metaphorical "wasteland of the soul," there's nothing more insulting than inferring--by virtue of your religious affiliation--that an entire group of other people are going to hell. NOTHING. So please. Stop. Think about it. What can be more disrespectful than that pillar of your belief system? To me, we're all in the same boat. You are my equal, my brother or sister in this life journey in every way.
2. Remember how loved you feel. How safe and accepted in your belief and your faith. And think about how it feels to walk this hard road, simply because we non-believers have no other choice. I WANTED to believe. Believe me. My brain just doesn't work that way. I'm sincerely happy for those who have more cooperative brains. I'm sure it feels better to be you than it does to be me.
That said, I am much happier since I've given up my search for faith and decided to let all those questions I've lived with since I was little stay open and unanswered. I try to make the most of my one life. I try to give the people I love (and my readers, who I also love) everything I have. I honestly want nothing more than to spread good vibes. That's why I have hesitated for so long to say any of the things I've just said.
But sometimes I think getting angry and upset and telling your personal truth is a way of spreading good vibes.
If even one other woman went into the shower and cried today (the way I did) after seeing all the backlash from the non-Raptured people who are tired of their religion being mocked, and she reads this post and feels less alone, then I'm glad this is going out into the world.
This is my testimony. And it is one I have earned the right to give.
Don't tell me to be quiet and respectful. The respect, I will endeavor to give, though at times your very faith feels like a slap in the face (Really. Hell. Literally or figuratively that's a ROUGH thing to ask another person to believe that you believe about their afterlife and still be all touchy feely huggy together).
But respect is good. You're right. I will try. I promise. I am, however, utterly weary of the silence.
Stacey Jay
Sparkling Agnostic of Ten Years
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Dead on the Delta-Book Trailer
Dead on the Delta
Adult Urban Fantasy
May 31st from Pocket Books
Once upon a time, fairies were the stuff of bedtime stories and sweet dreams. Then came the mutations, and the dreams became nightmares. Mosquito-size fairies now indulge their taste for human blood—and for most humans, a fairy bite means insanity or death.
Luckily, Annabelle Lee isn’t most humans. The hard-drinking, smart-mouthed, bicycle-riding redhead is immune to fairy venom, and able to do the dirty work most humans can’t. Including helping law enforcement— and Cane Cooper, the bayou’s sexiest detective—collect evidence when a body is discovered outside the fairy-proof barricades of her Louisiana town.
But Annabelle isn’t equipped to deal with the murder of a six-year-old girl or a former lover-turned-FBI snob taking an interest in the case. Suddenly her already bumpy relationship with Cane turns even rockier, and even the most trust-worthy friends become suspects. Annabelle’s life is imploding: between relationship drama, a heartbreaking murder investigation, Breeze-crazed drug runners, and a few too many rum and Cokes, Annabelle is a woman on the run—from her past, toward her future, and into the arms of a darkness waiting just for her. . . .
Order at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Indiebound
So yeah...May 31st!!! Holy Moly is this release date sneaking up on me.
*dashes off to hire someone to fix up the Dead on the Delta website*
*hunts for an artist to draw creepy pictures of fairies* (Know anyone? Email me!)
*works on sequel, BLOOD ON THE BAYOU*
*writes a guest blog*
*answers interview questions*
*addresses JULIET IMMORTAL postcards*
*does proof pages for new pen name's September book*
*helps 2 try to use the potty for 5th time this morning* He actually peed in the little potty for the first time this morning!!! Hallelujah! Praise baby Jesus in his fleece diaper, that probably cost less than all these freaking Pampers. I will be SO glad to get kids out of diapers. Seven years on and off--mostly on--is puh-lenty, thankyouverymuch.
Sparkly Thursday to All!
Stacey Jay
Monday, May 16, 2011
We need a montage!!
My baby is seven.
I am in shock. I don't where those years went. I suspect some kind of wormhole...
So I started writing a blog about how amazing this boy is, but I became a big blubbering mess and reached for my tissues and accidentally knocked a glass of water over next to my laptop and had to have a panic attack until I realized I hadn't destroyed my computer. I had, however, lost my post.
After my panic attack last night--induced by having to create book club type questions for a very exciting JULIET IMMORTAL promotion I will tell you about later, and realizing I do not have the skillz to pay the billz as a writer of book club questions<--so much harder than fiction--->and having to email my critique partner and Michelle Zink and my editors in a desperate frenzy and beg them to "help me, please, I am fragile and desperate and probably going to eat a pound of chocolate and go into sugar shock if someone doesn't help shoulder this terrible load"--I was just absolutely exhausted emotionally and could not fathom trying to write that blog all over again.
*collapses onto a nearby fainting couch*
*wishes she really had a fainting couch*
So I'll just say these things:
1. There is so much joy and silliness in this video and these are only the highlights of the past year. I had a ridiculous amount of footage of giggling and goofing. And this is why, dear R, you are the wind beneath my wings and all that stuff. I live for your laugh. You've had a lot of crap to deal with in your short life, but you always come through the hard stuff and keep that gorgeous smile. So even when we were in the thick of a rough bit this year and you woke up from anesthesia crying blood tears and asking me to make the pain stop and I couldn't and I felt like the most helpless miserable being on the planet, I knew it was going to be all right. That YOU were going to be all right. And look! You were.
2. You are my friend. I love being your mom, but I also just love being with you. You are fun. It makes still having to help you blow your stupid nose all day long (really--how can one kid make so much snot in a 24 hour period? and still not be able to work the tissue to nostril compression hand maneuver after years of such snotting?) totally worth it.
3. You can do it. If some day you come back and read this and think that life is hard and this silly, happy boy is a person you don't know how to be anymore, I know that you do. Because you are resilient and smart and maybe a tiny bit magical in the way of fairies and really cute gnomes. (But you are also a mess sometimes, and you'd better be nice to people or I will come back from the grave to tell you to suck less.<--this is true. I know a lot about zombies, so don't test me.)
Disclaimer for video: Included in this otherwise entirely adorable montage are graphic live images of me running like a girly girl. I do solemnly swear that I do NOT usually run this way. It was a cold day and I was trying to keep my sleeves over my hands and this somehow led to princess-y prancing that shames my inner jokette. So don't judge my running skills by this one example. Normally I run like an action heroine heading off to kick Bad Ninja butt. Or rescue a precious drowning alien. Or something feminine, but sweaty and a little scary, too. Grr.
Disclaimer for life: Yes, I know I share my sons' first names here. That's okay. I don't leave them alone long enough for any baddies to get them. Also "Jay" is not my real last name. Also I am fierce and carry a taser and have a twitchy "she might be a little not right and probably has experience fighting Bad Ninjas" look in my eye, so baddies know not to mess with me or my offspring. So don't stress. I am okay with this sharing at this point. And I share because I feel this blog is as much about my life as my work, and these boys are a big part of my life.
Disclaimer for this blog: I should stop it already with the humor. My new books are not really funny. Especially JULIET IMMORTAL. It is dark and torment-y, and my mother always told me to make the blog match the books. Or was that the drapes and the...? Hm. That joke is probably not appropriate within the context of a blog about my precious little man.
*shrugs*
*runs off to accomplish things in a very tough and non-girly-girl way*
P.S. I have a book trailer for DEAD ON THE DELTA. I will post it this week. And probably a post about my treadmill desk--which I am on right now--and maybe a goofy video about that, too. Hubs and I were all giggly this weekend and thought it would be funny to do a fake commercial for the treadmill desk. *crossing my fingers we have time* So yeah, think I may be back, blog! Thanks for all your good vibes the past few weeks, Internet. And thanks to everyone who helped me with the book club questions. All joking aside, this has really been one of the hardest things I've been asked to do as a writer in the past five years. Who knew? I did not. But now I do. The end.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Juliet Immortal Release Date Moved to August!
Juliet Immortal will now release August 9th, 2011 from Delacorte books. (Instead of September 15th. That's over a MONTH earlier! I know this. I can do simple math. Mostly.)
Here's a bit about the book:
"These violent delights have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which as they kiss consume."
—Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare
The most tragic love story in history . . .
Juliet Capulet didn't take her own life. She was murdered by the person she trusted most, her new husband, Romeo Montague, a sacrifice made to ensure his own immortality. But Romeo didn't anticipate that Juliet would be granted eternital life, as well, and would become an agent for the Ambassadors of Light.
For 700 years, Juliet has struggled to preserve romantic love and the lives of the innocent, while Romeo has fought for the dark side, seeking to destroy the human heart. Until now.
Now Juliet has found her own forbidden love, and Romeo, oh Romeo, will do everything in his power to destroy their happiness.
"Haunting and devastatingly romantic, Juliet Immortal gives new meaning to the words 'till death do us part.'" -Michelle Zink, author of the Prophecy of the Sisters trilogyHere's a bit about why the release date was moved:
Barnes and Noble will be doing a 6 book JULIET IMMORTAL display for their flagship stores! You will be able to enter a flagship store and literally trip over a display of my books. This is just mind blowing amazing news and I am so very excited and nervous and I really do hope people enjoy this book. *all fingers crossed*
*uncrosses fingers in order to type more words*
Here's a bit about some other stuff:
I was just contacted by the sweet people of The Listening Library. Recording on the JULIET IMMORTAL audio book is starting soon in L.A. It's almost enough to make me wish I still lived there so I could go spy on the process. And they seem so cool and I am still loving my Listening Library ear buds. (Have them in right now to block out sound of 2nd morning showing of Ni Hao Kai-Lan, the Halloween episode. My 2 year old never got over Halloween. He still talks about it all the time and blames unexplained phenomenon--like the sound the ice machine makes--on ghosts.)
And I'm supposed to start a fan page on Facebook--but I kind of hate Facebook and really dislike it when people ask me to "fan" them. If I want to give you my fan love, I will seek you out to do so, and being repeatedly hounded to "fan" your donut shop when I don't even live close enough to taste your donuts and know what I'm "fanning" is just annoying as hell. And so peer-pressure-y. And blah...the whole "asking for fan-ship" just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So know that as I send out the requests for fanship I will be hating myself a little, but this is something I should do. I meet more readers through Facebook than any other social site, and while I hate Facebook and it's stupid apps and games and farms and other things I don't have time for, I love my readers, so there you go. (Really do love you guys and love getting your emails. Keep sending them. I do reply to every one personally. Eventually.<--really slammed with work and email sometimes takes a back seat for a few weeks.)
And what else...hmmm...I have a treadmill desk!!! And it is AMAZING!!! And I will blog about it very soon with video.
And I'm making a trailer for DEAD ON THE DELTA, but I'm afraid it stinks like my two year old's socks (Which REALLY stink because he won't take off his rainboots. Ever. And it is getting quite hot outside in the afternoons.) I may have to debut the trailer here in a week or so and get your feedback.
And thanks to Jenny for the comment on that post a few posts down. Great questions! I will answer them soon.
And now I'm just rambling.
*wanders off to find more coffee*
Stacey
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The Boy With Hair goes Team Unicorn
So,
A few days ago I shared that my youngest son is obsessed with the movie, TANGLED, and Rapunzel in general. Since viewing the film, he has started calling himself "The Boy with Hair" (Rapunzel is The Girl with Hair) and refuses to get his hair cut. He screams like someone is cutting his fingers off with a rusty fork every time we go into the Super Cuts, so we've stopped going and agreed to let him grow out his hair.
He's at the stage, however, where his bangs hang in his eyes, but are too short to tuck behind an ear. It's annoying him and his daycare teachers and we people here at home who are constantly brushing it out of his face.
Fortunately, his latest movie obsession has stepped in with a solution. The Last Unicorn is the new favorite, and of course he doesn't want to be the magician. He wants to be the unicorn. Oh the pitiful weeping when he couldn't find anything that would stick to the front of his head. And then, one day, we realized he had enough hair to make his own horn...
And yes, he's also wearing monkey rain boots with his shorts (because he won't wear any other shoes and has to have his rain boots on at all times, even in his pajamas) and a monster t-shirt (because the only thing more awesome than unicorns and people with really long hair is monsters).
And yes again, I am preparing to take this little monster-rain-booted-though-it's-not-raining-be-horned child out into the world. I think the other babies at the gym are going to be hella jealous of his mad stylings.
In more serious news, please take a moment to check out the Help Write Now storm relief auction. Especially my friend Saundra Mitchell's mailing list offering. 760 indie stores and their addresses all pre-compiled for your promo-ing pleasure: http://helpwritenow.blogspot.com/2011/05/day-2-item-10-marketing-mailing-list.html
Happy Thursday!
Stacey
A few days ago I shared that my youngest son is obsessed with the movie, TANGLED, and Rapunzel in general. Since viewing the film, he has started calling himself "The Boy with Hair" (Rapunzel is The Girl with Hair) and refuses to get his hair cut. He screams like someone is cutting his fingers off with a rusty fork every time we go into the Super Cuts, so we've stopped going and agreed to let him grow out his hair.
He's at the stage, however, where his bangs hang in his eyes, but are too short to tuck behind an ear. It's annoying him and his daycare teachers and we people here at home who are constantly brushing it out of his face.
Fortunately, his latest movie obsession has stepped in with a solution. The Last Unicorn is the new favorite, and of course he doesn't want to be the magician. He wants to be the unicorn. Oh the pitiful weeping when he couldn't find anything that would stick to the front of his head. And then, one day, we realized he had enough hair to make his own horn...
And yes, he's also wearing monkey rain boots with his shorts (because he won't wear any other shoes and has to have his rain boots on at all times, even in his pajamas) and a monster t-shirt (because the only thing more awesome than unicorns and people with really long hair is monsters).
And yes again, I am preparing to take this little monster-rain-booted-though-it's-not-raining-be-horned child out into the world. I think the other babies at the gym are going to be hella jealous of his mad stylings.
In more serious news, please take a moment to check out the Help Write Now storm relief auction. Especially my friend Saundra Mitchell's mailing list offering. 760 indie stores and their addresses all pre-compiled for your promo-ing pleasure: http://helpwritenow.blogspot.com/2011/05/day-2-item-10-marketing-mailing-list.html
Happy Thursday!
Stacey
Monday, May 2, 2011
Guest Interview: Jennifer Estep!
Hello all!
In the interest of blogging about actual book person things--and not simply society's ills and personal angst--I've decided to start interviewing some of my favorite authors! Starting with Jennifer Estep, who was kind of enough to blurb my forthcoming DEAD ON THE DELTA and who I first fell for (in the reader-writer sort of falling) when I picked up KARMA GIRL years ago. She's just a lot of fun and her latest is no exception. Let's check it out!
TANGLED THREADS
By Jennifer Estep
Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Indiebound, and wherever fine books are sold.
The Blurb:
I’d rather face a dozen lethal assassins any night than deal with something as tricky, convoluted, and fragile as my feelings.
1. Plotter or pantser?
A: I’m a total punster. I think about my main character and the major turning points of the book, and then I start writing. That’s about all the prep work that I do.
2. Ebooks or hold-in-your-hand books?
A: Hold-in-your-hand books. I can see the appeal of ebooks, but at the end of the day, I want to get off the computer and read something that’s not on a screen.
3. Paperback or hardcover?
A: Paperback. Hardcovers cost so much that I always feel guilty about breaking the spines on those. I feel a little less guilty doing the same thing to a paperback.
4. Coffee or tea?
A: Iced green tea with a drizzle of honey.
5. Alpha male or beta male? (In real life, not books.)
A: Beta male. I think in real life, I would call the cops to take an alpha male away.
6. Watery grave or fall from a mountain top? (If you had to go one way or the other...)
A: Fall from a mountain top. I think it would be over with quicker. LOL.
7. Clowns or flying monkeys? (Which is creepier.)
A: Clowns – clowns are definitely one of the creepiest things around.
And now the serious question:
Serious question: If you were being cast out into the wilderness to wonder for ten years with only one book in your backpack, what would it be?
A: Hmm. That’s a toughie! I’m going to say Beauty by Robin McKinley. I’m a sucker for the old Beauty and the Beast fairy tale. I think it’s such a timeless story, and I really like McKinley’s take on it in this book.
Thanks so much Jennifer!
Happy Monday to all!
Stacey Jay
In the interest of blogging about actual book person things--and not simply society's ills and personal angst--I've decided to start interviewing some of my favorite authors! Starting with Jennifer Estep, who was kind of enough to blurb my forthcoming DEAD ON THE DELTA and who I first fell for (in the reader-writer sort of falling) when I picked up KARMA GIRL years ago. She's just a lot of fun and her latest is no exception. Let's check it out!
TANGLED THREADS
By Jennifer Estep
Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Indiebound, and wherever fine books are sold.
The Blurb:
I’d rather face a dozen lethal assassins any night than deal with something as tricky, convoluted, and fragile as my feelings.
But here I am. Gin Blanco, the semi-retired assassin known as the Spider. Hovering outside sexy businessman Owen Grayson’s front door like a nervous teenage girl. One thing I like about Owen: he doesn’t shy away from my past—or my present. And right now I have a bull’s-eye on my forehead. Cold-blooded Fire elemental Mab Monroe has hired one of the smartest assassins in the business to trap me. Elektra LaFleur is skilled and efficient, with deadly electrical elemental magic as potent as my own Ice and Stone powers. Which means there’s a fifty-fifty chance one of us won’t survive this battle. I intend to kill LaFleur—or die trying—because Mab wants the assassin to take out my baby sister, Detective Bria Coolidge, too. The only problem is, Bria has no idea I’m her long-lost sibling . . . or that I’m the murderer she’s been chasing through Ashland for weeks. And what Bria doesn’t know just might get us both dead. . . .
The Interview:1. Plotter or pantser?
A: I’m a total punster. I think about my main character and the major turning points of the book, and then I start writing. That’s about all the prep work that I do.
2. Ebooks or hold-in-your-hand books?
A: Hold-in-your-hand books. I can see the appeal of ebooks, but at the end of the day, I want to get off the computer and read something that’s not on a screen.
3. Paperback or hardcover?
A: Paperback. Hardcovers cost so much that I always feel guilty about breaking the spines on those. I feel a little less guilty doing the same thing to a paperback.
4. Coffee or tea?
A: Iced green tea with a drizzle of honey.
5. Alpha male or beta male? (In real life, not books.)
A: Beta male. I think in real life, I would call the cops to take an alpha male away.
6. Watery grave or fall from a mountain top? (If you had to go one way or the other...)
A: Fall from a mountain top. I think it would be over with quicker. LOL.
7. Clowns or flying monkeys? (Which is creepier.)
A: Clowns – clowns are definitely one of the creepiest things around.
And now the serious question:
Serious question: If you were being cast out into the wilderness to wonder for ten years with only one book in your backpack, what would it be?
A: Hmm. That’s a toughie! I’m going to say Beauty by Robin McKinley. I’m a sucker for the old Beauty and the Beast fairy tale. I think it’s such a timeless story, and I really like McKinley’s take on it in this book.
Thanks so much Jennifer!
Happy Monday to all!
Stacey Jay
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)