West of Mars\' Rocks \'n Reads

Stacie‘s the winner of Tommyland, Tommy Lee’s great romp through his life.

Congratulations, Stacie! Look for an e-mail from me soon. And more rockin’ books that ALL of you will have chances to win.

Welcome to another Women on Wednesday! If you’re new around here, click on the tab above. Yeah, the one marked Women on Wednesday.

In a nutshell, it goes like this: Feature a woman author or a book written by a woman on your blog. Leave your link in the comments. Go visit everyone else. Make friends. Influence society.

My pick this week may seem to be from left-field. Those of you who know me well know that I love left field. (SO much better than right or center field. And let’s not even discuss the dreaded infield.)

But in my world, there’s nothing unusual about Sue Lange, fellow Pennwriter and Pennsylvanian. We’ll even forgive her for living on the wrong side of the state.

Sue runs the BookView Cafe. Or else she’s really very involved; I’m not sure which. All I know is that she’s published short stories. She’s published novels.

Last week, she popped a link into my Win a Book inbox. She was giving away free digital copies of her anthology, Uncategorized.

So… I took her up on the offer. Why not? I’ve got an e-reader now. It’s free. And I’m overdue to read her works.

I haven’t finished the stories here yet. But from the start, as soon as I got into her narrative voice — which is a far cry from the chatty, friendly narrative I’ve been reading a lot of (minus the Cody McFadyen book I finished this week) — I fell in love with Sue’s works. She creates worlds that are ugly, gritty. They’re urban in feel even when the setting is elsewhere. And she puts her characters in hard places.

Best of all, there are twists at the end of some of these pieces that you don’t see coming. Or if you do, they still manage to shock. And make you think.

That latter, I think, is Sue’s intent.

One final note about Uncategorized: like my Demo Tapes, Sue provides an introduction to each story. Unlike The Demo Tapes, the intro isn’t longer than the story at times. (If you’ve read the Demo Tapes, you get it. If not, what are you waiting for?)

Pick it up. Check it out. And leave me some cool links. My wishlist is just over 1900 books now. I’d love to add more.

I thought I knew what to expect from Tommy Lee’s Tommyland. After all, I’d devoured The Dirt, the autobiography of Tommy’s band, Motley Crue. I’d been transfixed and even a little transformed by Crue bassist Nikki Sixx’s The Heroin Diaries.

And now, coming a little late to the party, I’ve got Tommyland in my hands. At last. And while I was expecting some of it — like tales of his first-ever girlfriend, who possessed a rather unique (ahem) talent — one thing I certainly hadn’t been prepared for was narrative asides in the style of a Greek chorus.

Only, this Greek chorus is provided by Tommy’s penis.

Yes, boys and girls, you read that right. I’ve got to note, too, that Tommy’s penis is quite the funny character. Maybe even a little bit wise, too.

That’s not to say that Tommy himself isn’t funny or wise. He’s quite entertaining, in fact, and for the most part, Tommyland is quite readable. This is actually high praise; Tommy comes off as a regular guy. He’s got his fan-boy moments. He’s also got his rock star moments. But perhaps the most poignant moments involve the death of the little boy, Daniel, in the Tommyland pool during a birthday party.

I remember that. I remember an awful lot of what happens in Tommyland, in fact, and I’m not the world’s biggest Crue fan. (Odd, given that I keep reading the books they put out.) Yet how could anyone miss the media circus that was his marriage to Pamela Anderson? The jail time Tommy served?

Seeing it from the inside gave me what I was hoping for in this book — a new perspective. Tommy’s made me stop and consider how it feels to need to have a few personal moments, only to find a photographer parked in the tree outside your bedroom. It’s hard not to empathize with Tommy and Pamela at times. This from me, who admitted to liking the train wreck they seemed to be.

I stand corrected. In fact, the romantic in me would love to see them figure out how to make it work — without the stresses they had to face, without the paparazzi, without the anger.

I always pick up these music-themed books with the hopes that they’ll inspire my fiction, or teach me something new. From that standpoint, Tommyland succeeded; the paparazzi bits aren’t the only things I learned or was inspired by. Perhaps the biggest inspiration came in Tommy’s comments about the almost-constant lawsuits. It’s his off-hand manner, the way he dismisses them all with mentions of the legal fees; it’s quite telling. His relationship with music, too, is special. It’s what a number of my own fictional characters share, so to hear Tommy articulate it the way he does… wow. Nothing like the reinforcement that I’m on the right track with, for example, Mitchell. His relationship with his dad, the houseboat episode, is both touching and mind-blowing.

Say what you will about Tommy Lee. I’ve got a newfound admiration for his gentle, tender side. He may be that bad-assed rocker we’ve all come to know and roll our eyes at, but there’s more to him. Much, much more.

I can’t say I loved Tommyland the way I loved The Dirt, or the absolutely brilliant Heroin Diaries. This book didn’t knock my socks off the way both of those books did. I don’t think it’s meant to; it’s merely meant to be Tommy’s story. His life, his explanation of this wild ride he’d been on up to that point.

I hope there’s a sequel, telling us what Tommy’s been up to since Tommyland came out. I won’t wait so long to read it.

***
Book obtained through Paperbackswap.com
’cause it’s about Rock and Roll!

If you’d like it, here’s the skinny:
Leave a comment here for entry. You gotta be 18 to enter and I reserve the right to ignore your entry (here or elsewhere) if you’re rude or otherwise offensive.

If you’d like bonus entries, flip over to the Meet and Greet and find some of my fiction to read. You can do this by picking either the fiction category, or the name of any of my characters. Yes, for the purposes of the contest, Roadie Poet qualifies. I, of course, recommend anything with Trevor’s name on it.

Once you’ve read the piece, leave a meaningful comment there. “I like!” is not meaningful. “I love it when Trevor’s right” is. (Trevor loves it when he’s right, too). You’ll get one bonus entry per comment — one comment per post.

If you REALLY want to suck up and get the mega-bonus entries, buy a copy of The Demo Tapes from any of the outlets it’s availble, including myself. You’ll get ten extra entries and my eternal gratitude.

Enter by Friday, November 27. I’ll let one of The Opening Acts pick a name out of a figurative hat. While I hate to impose mailing restrictions, until my royalties pick up, this is a US/Canada only give. But I love PO Boxes!

Welcome to the inaugural version of Women on Wednesday!

If you’ve missed out, here’s the link that explains it all. Basically, the idea is to highlight a book written by a woman, or to highlight a woman author. Yes, this can be a stop on a blog tour or a book review. Doesn’t matter. The idea is to talk. How you choose to do that is up to you.

Write the post on your blog and leave your link here in the comments section. Then go visit each other. If you need a place to post, holler and we’ll hook you up.

So. Here’s my first pick: Hank Phillippi Ryan.

Many of you know I adore Hank. If you’ve read my all-women Best of 2009, you’ll see I’ve included her there.

I really like Hank. But her books? I adore them. Not because I’m friendly with the woman who wrote them. Nope. Written in the first person, Charlie McNally’s voice shines. She’s smart. Conflicted. Insecure. Ballsy. She’s got work worries, relationship worries. She’s SO on the go, she rarely has time to eat. Her work clothes consist of the colors black, black, and black.

Have I mentioned she’s in her 40s? That’s an important factor, as Charlie is an investigative TV reporter. Age matters in TV news. So do the bi-annual sweeps stories, when every viewer is more precious than gold (it helps set advertising prices, if you’ve ever wondered what the big whoop is). Thus, appearance matters.

Yet, like many of us, Charlie is reluctant to go the plastic surgery route.

It takes more than one good character to make a series, and Charlie’s got a succession of bosses, each as loathesome and misguided as the next. Yet they’re funny, trapped in their eye on ratings and sensationalism.

Then there’s Franklin, Charlie’s producer. I am terrified he’ll leave her at some point, as producers often do. Terrified? Yes. Franklin’s a great character. He’s as smart as Charlie, an important thing as they solve mysteries and dig around for the Big Story. He’s also gay. He’s not your typical Chick Lit gay, though. He’s not flamboyant, or conforming to any stereotype you may have encountered. He’s more like my hair dresser: a character who just happens to be gay. Big difference.

And the stories… wow. Air Time, the most recent Charlie McNally novel, focuses on counterfeit designer handbags. A few scenes in this book involved airports and baggage claims. Shipping bags under the radar, and playing on the fact that no one at the receiving end checks that passengers have picked up the proper bags.

A week or so after I finished Air Time, there was a story on the news about exactly that. Checking bags at baggage claim. Not the counterfeits.

Anyway, I could rave all day. Vivid scenes. Great descriptions. Cool plots and fabulous characters.

Hank’s a writer to watch. She’s my first WOW.

What’s yours?

***
Stupid FTC shit: I’ve gotten all the books in the Charlie series for free. Some I picked up at a convention, some Hank mailed me. They’re mine. All mine. Hank neither asked for me to talk her up so much nor expected anything other than “You’re welcome” in exchange for her kindness. All this fan girl raving’s on me.

When Susan first spoke to me about this blog, I had been seriously contemplating reopening the old Tribe waterhole at the Creative Goddesses blog. I miss so many people sooooo much and while I’m still in touch with a lot of y’all under my penname – it isn’t quite the same. Plus i think my ME-self is a bit jealous of my alter-ego Lakota-self, who has her own fan base and is growing in popularity. Gawd, she’s SUCH a diva bitch, I swear. Next thing you know, she’ll be thinking she runs the show. Anyyyyhooooo – I decided I needed a place for Rhi-me (also known as ME-me) to hang out again, talk about books and reconnect with everyone. So… taaaa-daaaaaaa!

Jaz Parks Kicks ASS
I was telling Jennifer Rardin that I threw a tantrum in Borders last week when I found out that they weren’t carrying her new release “Bite Marks.” I’d gobbled up Jennifer’s entire series over the summer and was waiting with baited breath for the next book. (Hence the semi-dead zombie look.) Jaz Parks is one of the most intriguing characters I’ve read in along time. And I have loads of favorite characters. But I really relate to her. She is goofy, hears voices in her head, totally kicks butt, is independent, loyal, caring, and funny as hell. (A place she has visited and narrowly escaped from.)

Fortunately for Borders, the general manager was on the scene and came to the rescue of the frightened staff. She not only special ordered the book for me, but had it in my hands within 48 hours. Trust me, a redheaded tantrum is a terrible sight to behold in a book store.

So now, I am happily tripping through a new adventure with Jaz and her vampire boss/boyfriend Vayl. If you haven’t had a taste of this series yet, but love paranormal urban fantasy – you gotta check it out. http://www.jenniferrardin.com/?page_id=15
I promise Jaz will have you in stitches.

Now, THIS is the cool sort of thing I wanted to form Rocks ‘n Reads to be able to blabber about.

Two of the coolest ladies (both of whom stop by the Meet and Greet from time to time) have teamed up to create a new fictional woman: Ellen Connor.

Ellen is really Ann Aguirre and Carrie Lofty.

And Ellen has sold her three-book apocalyptic paranormal “Dark Age Dawning” trilogy.

WOO HOO!

More news as it becomes available, although if you click on Carrie’s name, that’ll take you to her blog post about the sale and about Ellen Connor and all that fun stuff.

I’d sure love a review copy, ladies… and, of course, any promo you’d like thrown up at Win a Book… well, that’s a no-brainer. No review copy necessary for THAT.

One of the coolest fringe benefits of Win a Book is that authors often send me their books as a way of saying thanks for the promotional help. They never ask me to do anything with those books; it’s entirely up to me what happens next.

I’ve talked about one or two over at the Meet and Greet. Handed almost all of them over to my best friend, Bridget. Passed them to others who I can count on to return them (they’re autographed, after all!). And talked about them to others.

Maybe, yeah, I can be bribed. And yes, during the days when I was programming my own radio shows, I’d let that gratitude toward a band or a record label rep (and, in the case of Megadeth, the opposite held true) show with an extra nudge over the airwaves. It was always for a band I liked. Just as now, it’ll be for a book or author I genuinely like.

Take Lisa Marie Wilkinson, for example. She sent me a copy of her debut, Fire at Midnight. This is a book I’d have never picked up on my own. Our heroine has been committed to a mental institution because her uncle wants her out of the way. She’s proving too plucky to kill, however, and then she’s rescued by the good guys and as part of the rescue is handed off to someone who she thinks is a good guy — but who isn’t. Worst of all, he’s gunning for her as hard as her uncle is. But first, they have to figure out exactly who each other really is. And, of course, the sparks that fly only compound the problem.

I go through periods with romances where I can’t stand the conventionality of them. Plucky heroine. Mistaken identity. Sparks. Yawn.

And then Lisa Marie’s book shows up on my doorstep and what results is so well plotted, none of the conventions matter. They’re a means to an end. They provide the framework that lets these strong characters show through. And did I mention the plotting??? Fire at Midnight has more twists and turns than a rat’s maze. All of them make sense. They’re all plausible, even the guy at the end whose interference is the only way Sebastien can live — let alone have a happily ever after with his plucky Rachael.

Yeah, Lisa Marie, you’re one author who’s won me over on the merits of how you write, not merely because you’re very personable. I can’t wait to meet you face to face. I suspect we’ll have a good time together.

**
Book obtained when the author sent it to me ’cause she wanted to say thanks for posting her links at Win a Book. I loaned it to Bridget and, when she gave it, back, I put it on my shelf, where I intend to keep it forever and ever, amen.

Oh, yeah. The link to Powells.com. Yeah, if you use it to buy ANYthing, I’ll earn a few pennies. My intent is to wait for those pennies to add up, and then I’ll buy something to give away. To you. My readers.

I picked up Finger Lickin’ Fifteen at 8PM one evening. Darn if I didn’t finish it by 11 that night.

This is both good and bad. Good because quick reads are becoming increasingly rare anymore — at least in my world. Good because it was three relatively uninterrupted hours of reading, which is also becoming increasingly rare. And good because I love spending time in the world of Stephanie Plum. Who doesn’t?

… and now for the bad. Three hours? That’s not nearly long enough. Stephanie’s world is so unique and so well drawn that three hours seems more like a commercial than the feature-length film. The criticism of this book, I think, is also warranted: parts of it feel phoned in. The formula that’s worked for so long is starting to wear thin.

Despite the formula, there are changes afoot. Stephanie’s figured out this relationship thing, I think. I’ve got to tell you, though, there are parts of it I’m not happy about. While Morelli still shakes his head and slings veiled put-downs at Stephanie, Ranger’s mouth is sealed. Heck, Ranger sees what no one else in town does: Stephanie’s real worth. While Stephanie’s mom pushes her to get these menial factory jobs and Vinnie yowls about his skips, Ranger’s putting Stephanie to work. Real work. He’s smart enough to see that Stephanie isn’t as hapless as she seems. While the sex stuff will always be there, Ranger has begun focusing on Stephanie’s mind. Dare I say, he’s even starting to rely on her.

Getting away from all that — because it could take the series into interesting places, if Evanovich will allow it to — one thing needs to be pointed out: Evanovich’s way with a character. With a few broad strokes of the characterization brush, we readers get these colorful people who come into and through Stephanie’s daily existence. The weenie wagger is real. He’s got a purpose, although it takes some explanation before we get it (and it should). Larry the cross-dressing fireman is fun. He’s real. We get him, we like him. If we met him in real life, we’d react like Stephanie’s dinner date did. But this isn’t real life, it’s Stephanie Plum, and it’s as always madcap and delightful.

Disclaimer shit: I got the book from a friend ’cause I saw her Twitter about it and made puppy dog eyes at her. Then I handed it off to another friend. That’s because the benefit of books lies in the sharing of them. Books build communities.