March 19, 2023

Birthdays and bonuses

Today is my mom’s 80th birthday. We’ll be celebrating together in May when she comes for a visit - but today we’ll talk on the phone, I’ll sing to her, and she has a card and chocolates - two of her favorite things - delivered to her home in Connecticut.

Mom has been one of my two biggest supporters on this author journey. She reads everything I write (and I mean everything) and will tell me if she finds an error in something.
She wears t-shirts that say “My favorite author is my daughter” or “Some people wait a lifetime to meet their favorite author - I raised mine.”

I’m so grateful to have her love, support, and encouragement. Happy birthday, Mumma!

The other person that has supported me every step is my son, Wayne. The other day I was stuck on a scene and we sat on the porch with our coffee - and him with a cigar, and brainstormed ideas. Everything from the ridiculous to the brilliant was brought up and finally I found a good answer to the problem.

A lot of the author gig is done solo - but so much of it is not. I have a great writing community on Discord that allows me to ask questions about anything and everything. It’s probably the best thing I could’ve done, setting that up, and I hope it’s helping the other authors that have made it home.

There are more than just my mom and my son that help and support - but those two are there for me when I’m celebrating or venting - and it’s so very appreciated.

Who supports you in your life? Let me know in the comments. I’d love to hear about it!

A piece from “And So It Begins” coming out later this year in the Vampire Rejects Anthology

Chapter 2

Alexandria, VA 1943

With the war making so many things scarce due to rationing, Jo took the time to savor her morning cup of tea. She sat in the alcove of Dr. Wilder’s apartments in The Carlyle House that she’d purchased around 1918 after they’d rapidly outgrown their quarters at the Dulany House on Duke Street. The doctor was still an active member of S.I.N., but as he was nearing a century in age and still looked as if he were in his fifties, he didn’t go out and about around humans as much anymore.

“I wish you wouldn’t wear those vulgar things in my presence,” Dr. Wilder told Jo. “I find them horribly offensive.”

Jo plucked at the brushed cotton fabric of her trousers and smiled at him. “They’re beyond comfortable and even Vogue has accepted they have a purpose. Don’t worry, Theo. I’ll still dress appropriately for dinner. I’ve got to train some of the new recruits today and I’ll not be fussing with skirts in the field.”

Dr. Wilder grumbled good-naturedly and refreshed their tea cups. “This latest group is one of the best we’ve had, don’t you agree?”

“There are more shifters in this one. They handle the physical challenges best. We also have two hunters in this group. Humans, yes, but they’re some of the savvier intelligence collectors I’ve ever seen. They even beat out the three vampires for their intrigue skills.”

“That’s because humans can approach humans and not trigger the sympathetic response, unlike a vampire, shifter, or even some witches,” Wilder said.

“Sympathetic response?” Jo asked.

“To put it bluntly, they’re not about to evacuate their bowels when approached by a human, unlike when they’re approached by a creature that looks on them as food,” Wilder offered dryly.

Jo blinked at him, then chuckled. “If you say so. Whatever the reason, it works and I’m just glad it does. Oh, did you hear about the latest member of the OSS?”

“That new Office of Strategic Services set up last year?” Wilder asked.

“That’s the one. Moe Berg is now an official member of the OSS. You know, the baseball player?” Jo said. “The baseball player that’s been a spy for the past twelve years or more?”

Wilder chuckled. “The best kept secret that every US spy knew anyway. I mean, what baseball player needs seven languages?”

“Those photos he took while playing ball in Tokyo were a great help in planning the bombing raids over the city last year,” Jo told him.

“Still, how effective can a spy be when half the city knows he’s a spy?” Wilder asked.

“As long as the target doesn’t know he’s a spy, it’s all good, right?” Jo replied with a wink. “Ah, well. I need to get to work. I heard Chef is making meatloaf with roasted vegetables and a fruit compote for dinner tonight. I’m glad we turned that whole section beyond the fence into a garden.”

“It’s definitely expanded the scope of Chef’s offerings. Be safe out there, Jo. They may be our recruits, but they aren’t loyal to us yet.”

Jo gave him a nod and turned to leave the room. One thing she never doubted was Wilder’s sense of danger. It had kept them all alive more than once.

Back when they’d first settled in Alexandria, in 1908, and had taken rooms in the Duke Street house, there had been a couple of close calls for Dr. Wilder, Edison, and herself.  One of the reasons they’d moved to Carlyle house was because Stabler’s house always had strangers in and out and there was precious little in the way of security.

One man, a client of Stabler’s apothecary business, was a Mr. Josiah Weems. He somehow found his way to their suite of rooms and walked in on Jo feeding on Edison. Wilder had warned them that Mr. Weems had a negative feeling about him, so when he showed up in their rooms, Wilder appeared behind him and kept him from running through the house, screaming that there was a blood sacrifice going on in the upstairs suite.

It took Jo a solid twenty minutes of ‘charming’ him to get him to forget what he’d seen, and that evening, the three of them had commenced searching for new accommodations. There were other close calls before they could finally purchase the Carlyle house and complete the renovations necessary to make it habitable. They didn’t bother with making the outside of the structure look polished and presentable, and they took care to make sure that while the outbuildings were structurally sound, they didn’t look very stable or secure. Appearances could dissuade even the most random social calls, and they took advantage of the worn presentation to add it to their arsenal of protections.

The old Civil War hospital on the grounds looked as if it were ready to collapse in upon itself, but inside it was bright and comfortable, and made a great barracks for the trainees. The barn at the back of the property made an excellent physical training facility, while classes were held in the lower level of the barracks. All in all, it was, so far, a successful mirage.

Jo didn’t fool herself into thinking it could continue this way, but for now it served their purposes.

---