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so you have to believe it right? Well, in this case I do. Mr. Wilde, poet, novelist, dramatist, and critic, said, “Life imitates art far more than art imitates life.”
Life, in this case, is the trial going on in Catoosa County Georgia in which Tonya Craft, a teacher is accused of allegedly molesting three of her students. I have no idea if Ms. Craft is guilty or not but when I saw her story, I was somewhat astounded because it so closely resembled something that happens in the second book of my Eternal Shadows series–the “art” in this case, though I use that term very loosely!
In Storm Shadows, which will be released soon, by the way, the heroine, Betty Sue Corn, is a middle-school librarian and she is wrongfully accused first of improper behavior in front of her students and then of sexually molesting some of her students. She is suspended from her job while the school board decides what to do with her and while she waits, Nathan–who’s feels he’s responsible for her suspension–offers her the use of his cabin on Eternity Mountain. And of course, while she’s there she becomes involved with Marc, one of Nathan’s blood brothers. Marc, living under the same curse as Nathan and the other two Tassel men, Matt, whose story was told in Snow Shadows, and Luke, whose story is next in Sun Shadows, is an immortal shape-shifting cougar with psychic abilities. He is determined not to have anything to do with Betty Sue because he’s been “seeing” her for years in his visions and he “knows” if they get involved one of them will die.
Given that I first started writing this book over a year and a half ago and at the time I’d never heard of Ms. Kraft, although she was first accused in 2008, I’d say this one’s a close call. So what do you think…is life imitating art or art imitating life?
Hmm…maybe it’s a case of six of one, a half dozen of another. And speaking of another, here’s my favorite Oscar Wilde quote:
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” Love that!
ETA: Tonya Craft was found not guilty of the charges today. I’m sure that’s a relief but what happens now? She’s lost her job, her home, and two years of her life. I’d say make the students who accused her do something to pay her back somehow…but they’re not even ten years old!
Well okay, not so much here in the mountains where it’s another rainy cold day, but in Florida, with less than a week to go until the first game, baseball is definitely getting warmer because…Manny’s in the house! For the first time since 2005, Manny arrived on time for Spring training, and from his statements to the press he’s ready to play and looking forward to this season.
Could it be his last as a Boston Red Sox? I have a hard time believing that and hope it won’t happen. But then, as everyone knows, I’m a Manny Fan Girl. I just can’t imagine the Red Sox without him, can’t imagine watching a game where there isn’t the Big Papi/Manny threat hovering over the opposing pitcher’s head, can’t imagine a time when another player will take on the job of taming Fenway’s Green Monster.
The Red Sox without Manny? Say it ain’t so–ever!
And then there’s Jacoby Ellsbury. I caught an informative and interesting article about him in Men’s Vogue the other day. Did you know he’s the first Navajo to play in the Major Leagues? Just another reason for me to appreciate him. I’m not an official FG of his yet, but the more I learn about him the more I like him and I can see myself becoming one, especially after reading the article. Here it is if you’d like to read it:
http://www.mensvogue.com/health/feature/articles/2008/03/jacoby?currentPage=1
Like I said, very interesting. Put longer hair on him and he could be the cover model for the book I have coming out later this year, Snow Shadows. Yep, he could be my Cherokee shape-shifter, Matt, especially since he spent his time in the off-season beefing up.
Hmmm, I wonder if he’d be open to posing for a pic of a paranormal romance hero who, in my editor’s words is “SO HOT!” (hee-hee, I’ve been giggling over that little tidbit for days!)
The thing is…I’m about 50 pages into the next book, Storm Shadows (working title), and now I’m starting to worry about making the hero of this one, Matt’s brother Marc, “HOT!” Can I do it? Well, the only thing to do is write the story. And now that I have a picture in my head of Jacoby Ellsbury, I think that will help immensely because the brothers in each of the four books in this series look very much alike, about the only difference being the color of their eyes and the length of their hair. Jacoby’s is still shorter than Marc’s, but not by much.
So thanks, Jacoby, for the inspiration!
Well, it’s Friday–or it was yesterday when I started writing this!–and this time I only have to go back about six months to find the topic of today’s Friday Folly.
I remember it clearly, even know the date, and could probably recount every second leading up my foolish action. I’d been debating with myself whether or not to submit my novella to a contest. I would’ve done it in a heartbeat, except the publisher holding the contest was new. I’d just started having doubts about my other publisher, who was also new when I signed with them, and I kept thinking; you’ve been down that road before and what if the same thing happens again? Finally, I decided to take a chance because the story fit the contest so perfectly. So, I hit the ‘Send Now’ button.
A month later, I was notified that my book had won and they wanted to offer me a contract. I was thrilled. I signed the contract without thinking twice about it and sent it back. Over the course of the next month, I worked with an editor–who was wonderful–and the month after that, the cover artist–who was awesome. Everything went downhill from there.
And now I find myself caught up in a battle with the publisher for my rights and it’s beginning to look like I’m going to have to fight for them. Their breach of contract is clear–trust me on this, I’ve consulted a lawyer–so I wrote them yesterday and told them I was taking my rights back. Given their history of not responding to emails from their authors, I really didn’t expect to hear back from them…
…except I did. Their quick response was nice, and I was elated to read the opening line which went something like this: “As you requested, your rights will be returned to you.” Oh, happy day, right?
Wrong. By the time I finished reading their response, I was not just angry, but thoroughly pissed off to the point I was ready to go postal on these people. The rest of their email was surly and about as far from professional as you can get. I was, in turn, reprimanded, insulted, blamed for their problems, and threatened. All that from a publisher who not only failed to live up to their contract, but has spent the last month making excuses and blaming their mistakes on everybody but themselves. I don’t know why I was surprised, but I was.
The only thing that saved me from publicly spewing venom about them on every group and blog I could find is the fact that they gave me my rights back.
That was good, right? Well, no.
The thing is, they may have given my rights back to me, but they did it in an email that I refuse to send out to other publishers when I submit my book elsewhere. So I promptly wrote them back and told them I expected to have a rights reversion letter in my hands on or before October 25 (the deadline I gave them in the original email), and I expected the letter to be written in a professional manner, or they would be hearing from my attorney.
Will they do it? Who knows? I think all bets are off with this publisher. From everything I’ve heard, they aren’t paying their staff, much less their authors, they’re picking and choosing which parts of the contract they’ll honor, and they treat their authors–this isn’t hearsay, but fact based on my own experience–as if they’re idiots and/or children who are mentally challenged.
My problem now is how do I handle this? I could take his email and delete out all the derogatory comments and use it as my rights reversion letter–or maybe I can’t, that’s something I’ve never needed to do, so I’ve never tried it. Or I can continue sending them emails and certified letters until I get a professional rights reversion letter. Or I can just turn it over to my lawyer and let him handle it.
I’m not sure what I’ll do, but one thing I am sure of, this has the potential to be the worst folly of my life, because I’m not trying to kid myself that this will turn out all right in the end.
For the most part, I write in the romance genre, but I also dabble in young adult and children’s stories. In all of these, the hero/ine is one of the most, if not the most, important element of the story. Everybody loves a good hero/ine, right?
Well, not so much anymore.
Jim Croce sang, “…you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger…” Maybe not in your day Mr. Croce, but today we seem to delight in doing just that–unmasking our hero/ines and shoving their faces into the dirt for a little added entertainment.
Looking back on the hero/ines of my youth, I still see them as people to be looked up to, people worthy of my respect, people who will always hold a special place in my heart and mind. That’s not to say they didn’t have flaws. Of course they did, after all, no one’s perfect, but their imperfections are not what I remember when I think about them.
I have to wonder if it will be the same for today’s kids. Will they look back on the hero/ines of their youth with a smile or a scowl? Probably the latter.
These days, it seems everywhere you look, hero/ines are taking falls worthy of Humpty Dumpty. Sports figures, movie stars, singers, politicians, astronauts–any and all who dare tread one step into the spotlight can expect to be scrutinized under the media’s microscope then offered up for public humiliation when they’re caught doing something wrong.
Who holds the greatest share of the blame for that? The media? The public? The hero/ines themselves?
Any and all of the above. We’re all guilty, we all share equally in the blame, but I don’t expect any of us will stand up and do a thing to stop it. We’re fascinated (though we proclaim disinterest), thrilled (though we declare disgust), and hungry for more (though we voice our distaste loudly and often).
Which doesn’t help today’s kids in any way whatsoever. Unless, of course, they have aspirations to be a tabloid journalist/photographer when they grow up.
CAIT-TALES 