Law of Attraction in Blog

The Law of Attraction is just another name for fear. If a person is negative then negative happens. Why- me-God people can not see the flip side…the glass half full. Why do some people take on this kind of behavior? I believe it is out of fear. Fear becomes their protection, the negativity of their attitude is the barrier created against life. Inevitably, I believe this kind of person attracts the very things they fear.


Following my own guidelines to blog about what I see/hear/read, I am adding this Attraction concept to my list. The idea of bringing negative into our life is hardly new. It is not as if someone stumbled on to a lost work of art or buried treasure. I write a column and blog about Good Days and No Days—same theme. Why would anyone want to begin anything significant on a day that potentially would not offer the best results? Live your life---yes, but be mindful of the warnings along the way. People who profess to be out-of-luck, nothing-but-the-worst-happens and woe-is-me all live by the same code, which goes something like this: No matter what, things are not going to get better.


Now, what of the good people the ones that die young, the ones that suffer, the ones that are taken from us too soon? I have no answer; I believe there is no answer, only that there is a reason, a higher purpose to everything and that we are players on the stage of life and we do not write the script. Perhaps the good folk who attract illness or violence are role models. They are the teachers.


In my new book, Belly of the Whale, being released in April, the main character has breast cancer. Her name is Hudson Catalina, she is young; she has a family, her mother died of breast cancer and despite her ability to intellectually rise above her past she gives up hope of survival. It takes an encounter with a killer more deadly than her disease, as a hostage in an all-night market for her to regain faith.


The good people who precede us, who lay down their lives for us, like our soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, they are teachers. Our friends, family and loved ones who are taken from us are the angels that walk beside us every day.
We, like Hudson Catalina, learn from them. We learn how to die, we learn how to live.


Blog what you hear, blog what you see…


Linda Merlino,author:Belly of the Whale
Preorder on amazon.com

I Love New York

There are 487 great things about New York, but the video of the frozen folks in Grand Central reminds of one of my favorites: New Yorkers love jokes-large scale, foaming-at-the-mouth, so senselessly silly that you have to laugh jokes. Remember when Cristo hung Central Park with a cupla hundred orange gates? Remember when they said that the Giants had a chance to win the Super Bowl?
What a great town! I'm glad I live in the same hemisphere.

Lynn Hoffman, author of bang BANG

Frozen in New York

My husband Marc has been whining about being "frozen" for weeks. So much so that we booked a trip to Mexico later this month. (YAY!) We live in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada and it's been anywhere from -10 degrees celcius to -30.

Well, today Marc came across a video of people in Grand Central Station, New York, and these people were definitely far more frozen than Marc has been.

Check out this incredible video. I've never seen anything like it.



Wish I'd been there!

My writer's mind is going crazy with this. Were they a group of acting students? Mimes without costumes? I've watched this 3 times. Check out their expressions...and poses.

What do you think about this video? Please leave a comment.

After you've watched the video, go HERE to read about how it was done.

~Cheryl Kaye Tardif, bestselling author

I've Been Found Out Again!

Most of the time, I've tried to keep my day job and my writing life separate for three reasons. First, I didn't want to think about writing 24/7, and my retail job kept me sufficiently distracted with customer service or working a cash register to not be plotting out stories. Second, I didn't think it appropriate or professional to be flogging my book or talking about publishing credits, etc., so I didn't. Third, I simply didn't think colleagues would be interested. Only one or two even read during lunch breaks, and no one ever talked about books. But somehow things changed.

It began with chats about vacations. A few people would ask where I was going on mine, and I'd tell them Las Vegas, or Anchorage. Of course, the usual questions about gambling and cruising came up, and then I'd explain that I wasn't going to gamble or cruise, but attend a conference. "What kind of conference?" they'd ask. "A conference for mystery writers. That's what I do . . . I write mysteries." The response was always one of surprise, a moment's pause, and then something like "oh, I didn't know you wrote". Still, I managed to keep my double life under wraps until three years ago, when my picture appeared in the local paper with an article about my essay appearing in "Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul". The next thing I knew everyone was talking about it at work. I was found out. People wanted to know what else I'd written. They wanted to see the Chicken Soup book. And one or two even wanted to see my published novel. So, I brought Taxed to Death to work and sold a few copies.

Mercifully, the fuss quickly died down. I didn't feel overly comfortable with my two worlds overlapping, and was glad to get back to business as usual. Occasionally, someone would ask how my books were coming along, and I'd reply as best as I could without giving a long-winded response about plotting problems, stilted dialogue, too much backstory, puzzling rejection letters, or publishers who never delivered on their contract.

More time passed. People came and went, as is normal for retail, which meant that lots of new employees didn't know I wrote. Well, that all changed a week and a half ago, when I handed in my resignation letter. People wanted to know why I was leaving. After all, I'd been there five years and seemed pretty happy, most days, anyway. So I told them I needed to finish final edits on a book that would be published soon, and to complete another final edit on a book that an agent wants to see. Also, it's time to move on to new challenges and experiences.

I didn't quite expect the buzz that's been going around the store . . . the interest, the support, and requests to buy my book, especially from young people I thought were more interested in PSPs, XBox, and all the other fun gadgetry out there. But, guess what? They think it's cool that I write. So, I've sold a few more copies. Most of all, I've learned, yet again, that you can never judge a book by its cover.

http://www.debrapurdykong.com/
"Fatal Encryption" coming soon

EAT. PAY. WALK. Part Two

Vivre Venice

"This was Venice, the flattering and suspect beauty - this city, half fairy tale and half tourist trap, in whose insalubrious air the arts once rankly and voluptuously blossomed, where composers have been inspired to lulling tones of somniferous eroticism." Thomas Mann

Mann's words are magnificently true.


Venice is indeed half fairy tale, half tourist trap…and pigeons. Yes, yes, the glorious pigeons are doing well in Venice, even in the wintertime. They show no signs of concern about war, gas prices, economic downturn or the need to lose weight at the start of a new year. Instead, they clamor for a nice resting spot atop the shoulder of anyone who deigns to cross their living room – which happens to be a lovely piece of real estate known as St. Mark’s Square. And if you bring a treat for them, a few pieces of uneaten croissant from your breakfast, well, they will ride on your shoulder from one end to another. At least that’s what my personal pigeon, Fabio, did for me. (I cannot go into the reasons he was named Fabio, but I assure you, there are reasons.)

I explored Venice in January with my two BFFs. (Forgive me, but how many opportunities does a 40 something get to use that expression?) We three walked for hours each day without any real goal in mind. Sure, we wanted to visit St. Mark’s Basilica, feed scores of fat pigeons and have a Bellini at Harry’s Bar. (Note: this five-ounce frothy peach will cost you your entire Starbuck’s budget for a week and have you exclaiming “Euro-kidding me!” when you get the bill). Still, you must go and imbibe, especially if you are a writer and want to rub shoulders with the Hemingway legend. You can drink Folgers when you get back.

We left the rest of our walking to our sense of wanderlust. Okay, so this strategy gets you lost again and again. And again. We searched for the Rialto Market for a ridiculously long amount of time, asking directions of countless kind Venetians and one Frenchman who merely quipped, “Don’t you have a map?!”. So you can understand it when I tell you we felt like we’d hit the Holy Grail when we finally stumbled upon the not so lovely fish stench permeating the market.

But we were there. We found it. We walked through its maze of multi-colored produce stands and seafood. The way the merchants display the food makes you eat with your eyes. After finding Rialto Mercato, the city seemed to acknowledge our perseverance and directed us along its uncrowded, foggy streets with greater patience. (Or maybe we just stopped trying to find anything on purpose.) We found other great places to leave behind our Euros. We ate the best bruschetta and pasta aglio lio e peperoncino (spaghetti with olive oil and peppers). We discovered Limoncello. We saw the same painter twice in one day as he moved his easel from one part of the city to another presumably to take advantage of the light. We spent an hour inside a mask shop trying on tens of sublime and sexy masks. We came upon a French couple sharing a bottle of Veuve Clicquot atop a solitary bridge who proudly announced that they had just become engaged. And if that wasn’t romantic enough, we later watched a gondolier nearly miss hitting his handsome red-haired head on the underside of the bridge he was traversing because his gaze was on us. And then, as he popped up on the other side of said bridge, he watched us again. Ahhh, romance. That scene alone makes me want to write a romance novel. And maybe I could. (Didn’t someone once say those tomes are all about location, sex and adverbs?)

So women, go with your girlfriends. Men, escort your women. Let me be your blogeteering ambassador and say to you, Go feast on the city half fairy tale, half tourist trap. You will not regret it.

Still not convinced? Don’t have enough lettuce to fund your trip? Well, until then, allow me to share my photo album at http://www.karenharringtonbooks.com/Blog.php until you do have the opportunity. And don’t stop there. One of my favorite past-times is visiting www.venicedailyphoto.blogspot.com

Until next time, Ciao!

-

Karen Harrington is the author of JANEOLOGY, a spring 2008 release from Kunati Books.

Look Out Your Window...

I try to follow my own advice, and in a bloggers world that is to blog about what I see. In this case blog about what is out side my window and how it will affect my day. There can be beauty in blog, you just have recognize it in your life and pass the beauty on.

It is early morning. I am in my car. The air crisp, clear New England cold envelopes me. Hunkered down in the driver’s seat I begin my short commute. Ahead of me the sun rises.

I look out my window and see blue sky, an ocean blue palette of color spread low against the sun’s upward movement. Still tired from being forced outside of slumber, I squint into the light. I reach for my glasses, slide them low on my nose and dip my head to see under the tint of the windshield. The color intensifies, like looking through a mystical glass it continues to wrap around the sky as I drive. Skirting the blue is a layer of petal pink, the combination is upside down; pink over blue and the two together, spectacular.

If I was still in bed I would have missed this collision of color, this singular event of the cosmos. Having to go to work keeps me from reading, keeps me from getting more pages of another book written. My day job prevents me from answering email and doing internet marketing for my new novel. Having to plug away takes me out of the valley that surrounds me onto a country road that takes me to higher ground. Perhaps there is an underlying message in all of that, one that speaks of narrow views and of going outside me to broader vistas.

There is time to pull over; I am full face to the rising sun’s majesty.
Houses dot the landscape, their sleepy windows dark and snoring. Wake up I whisper. Run to your windows and greet the sunrise. Don’t miss this one; don’t go through your whole day never knowing its beauty.

But this is life? There are people who have the world uninterrupted right before their eyes and never look out a window? They go through their days oblivious to the rising and the setting.

I can not see the sunrise from my home. I have to search it out, like Mohamed to the mountain. This interlude with the rising sun tells me that I am on the right path. Tells me that others may have the opportunities but do not take them, and I have to try harder, but no matter. Perhaps too, the journey is more important than the destination and for sure, there is a higher power.

So I share the beauty in blog and tell you that life is for living.

“He who postpones the hour of living is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses.” Horace 65-8 BCE

Linda Merlino, author of “Belly of the Whale”: release date April 2008
Available for preorder on www.amazon.com/lindamerlino