The man's dark eyes seemed to accuse Denton of unspeakable
crimes. Catnapping to begin with.
Eager to prove his innocence, Denton held Murry in front of
him. "I have your cat. He must have jumped from your balcony to my fire
escape. I found him sitting on my feet when I woke up."
Murry dangled between them as a furry peace offering for a
couple of beats, before his owner reached out and took him. Those eyes focused
on the cat for a moment, then back on Denton. "You fed him."
For absolutely no reason a shiver run through Denton, but he
heroically ignored it. "It seemed as a polite thing to do, and it's
daytime. I didn't let him get wet."
B. Maurell either hadn't seen Gremlins or had no sense of humor. "He's on a diet." The
warm baritone of his voice undermined the gruffness of the words.
"What kind? If it's Atkins, all's fine--I only gave him
tuna, no carbs." Denton meant it as a joke, and grinned like an idiot to
bring the point home, but all he received was stony silence in exchange. Tough crowd.
effulgent |iˈfoŏljənt; iˈfəl-|adjective poetic/literaryshining brightly; radiant.• (of a person or their expression) emanating joy or goodness.DERIVATIVESeffulgence nouneffulgently adverbORIGIN mid 18th cent.: fromLatineffulgent-‘shining brightly,’ from the verb effulgere, from ex-‘out’ + fulgere ‘to shine.’
ETYMOLOGY: A crapehanger was one who hung up black bands of crape as a symbol of mourning. The word is from English crepe/crape, from French crepe, from Latin crispus (curled or wrinkled). Earliest documented use: 1921.
Am I the only one envisioning thin, French pancakes?
I had a weird dream about third-rate hotel rooms and finding
a pigeon with a broken leg in the woods. Pigeons don't live in the woods. I
have no idea what my subconscious is trying to tell me.
On a less confusing note, I've designed another cover for
Rather purrdy, even if I say so myself. Harper likes it too, and that's what matters. I used the gorgeousness of
that frosty glass surface as the starting point of the design.
I probably shouldn't admit it, but half the time at the
beginning of a project—design and writing alike—I have a wild moment of panic,
when I'm convinced I can't do it. But then it all works out. Usually.
It's a rare gloomy day here in L.A. but I woke up to a
couple of good news. My novel, Spirit
Sanguine, now has a release date: 4/14/2013. Sanguine features Harvey, the decidedly non-brooding vampire, and
Gabe, a conflicted slayer.
In another excellent news, Last Stop got a very nice review
on Smitten with Reading. I love late reviews. They liven up the dead space that
starts a few months after a release and lasts till the next one. It's the time
of self-doubt and anxiety, so it's wonderful to hear that someone likes your
Fe*ra"cious\, a. [L. ferax, -acis, fr. ferre to bear.] Fruitful;
Nope, not ferocious.
I bought a 1916 edition of Webster's New International Dictionary from the neighborhood used book store. I don't know how many headings it contains, but it weighs five pounds and it's printed in small text, on "India" paper—meaning a thin onionskin paper. That's a lot of words.
I prefer my stories taking place in L.A. because that's
where I live. It always tickles me when a review mentions I managed to bring
the surroundings alive. L.A. has so many different facets—it's one of the
things I love about it.
Even when I use a location I know already, I like to take a refresher trip. It may bring forth a forgotten detail or I get to experience what it's like walking barefoot on dry underbrush (not pleasant). Most of all, it's a good excuse for an outing.
The other day I took a trip to the Angeles National Forest. I needed a spot where my heroes could discover a body. I could've just winged it, I've been through that area before, but I wanted to take another trip. I didn't regret it.
There are mountains, forests, national parks all over this town. It has always struck me how easy it would be to lose a body in them. Yeah, I know, morbid, but I like mysteries. And it does happen. For example, I found a news article about hikers who found humans skeleton unearthed by a brush fire.
I found my spot along an empty campground. It was a quaint place, with a tiny stream running through. The hillsides are dry as a tinderbox at this time of year, but the trees and shrubbery along the stream bed were green. Hiking trails ran off in different directions. Perfect place for a fictional shallow grave.
spoor |spoŏr; spô(ə)r|nounthe track or scent of an animal : they searched around the hut for a spoor | the trail is marked by wolf spoor.verb [ trans. ]follow the track or scent of (an animal or person) :taking the spear, he set off to spoor the man.DERIVATIVESspoorer nounORIGIN early 19th cent.: fromAfrikaans, from Middle Dutch spor, of Germanicorigin.
Here in L.A. the daytime temperatures still go up to 90º but the days are getting shorter and the school season has started. Other parts of the country/world must be experiencing proper Autumn right now, with cool weather--like these two.
The bigger guy is wearing a Notre Dame sweater under his jacket, and he's sure built like football player. Kinda handsome too. His friend is slimmer and that coat he's wearing seems much too big for him. Could it belong to the strapping lad next to him?