Getting Lucky featuring Rebecca Calloway Butcher

     Ah, March, the beginning of spring. It's the month to try your luck and follow rainbows in hopes of finding a pot of gold. Luck can be a lot of things. Aunt Carol winning a bingo game, your favorite team scoring big, finding a hundred dollar bill all on the sidewalk. It can also be things like calling insick and later hearing of an accident along your route to work. So, what is luck?
     My Irish heritage demands I give you some serious thought on luck. While finding a pot of gold would be awesome (after taxes, of course), I don't think rainbows, clover and Leprechauns are the extent of defining luck. I think luck has more to do with intent. How you approach life sets the mood for everything you do.
     If you go to sleep on Sunday night dreading Monday morning, you are setting yourself up to oversleep, get caught in traffic and get fussed at by your boss. On the flipside: if you tell yourself it's going to be a great day today, you might wake up ten minutes before the alarm, catch all green lights when you run to the bank on your lunch break, or get praised by a coworker or supervisor for doing a good job.
     Think of intent as energy. One of the basic scientific laws says that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. That means if you are negative-putting out negative energy, you'll get back negative energy. The reverse is also true. If you are positive, you'll get back positive energy. Luck is the same thing. If you play the lottery and always think "why do I bother I'm not going to win," then you might as well throw your money in the trash can. If your approach says "I can't win if I don't play so let's give it a shot," you have a much better chance of winning. Now, not everyone can wish their way into winning the lottery. There's just too much negative floating around for that. But you can create your own luck in small accumulative steps.
     You're talking back to me now asking, "How can I create luck?" For starters, smile more often. It makes you happy. Happiness generates positive energy. If you smile at another person, most of the time that person will smile back at you. Step two: be thankful. I'm thankful that I woke up this morning to experience another day. I have a comfortable place to sleep, a job, food to eat, people who love me, a car to go exploring in. All of these things are things to be thankful for, not taken for granted. Step three: make a conscious decision to be happy. Don't let the first little negative thing control the tone of your day. Break a nail, drop something, spill your coffee…these are just little things. It happens. Get over it. Tell yourself, it's going to be a beautiful day. And it will.

Getting Lucky featuring Tempeste O’Riley

     Luck is one of those great mystery things as far as I’m concerned. What one thinks is a lucky break; another busted their butt to get. What another feels is their luck changing is often not seen in a positive light. For me, luck is a bit of hard work and timing (the later we rarely get to influence, sadly).
     As for me ‘getting lucky’, I’d have to say that would be landing my first choice publisher. When I wrote my first book—Designs of Desire—I was afraid to send it in to any publishers, but especially to my first choice. However, my participating in Six Sentence Sunday had garnered the story its own fans, who demanded the rest of the story, lol. I also had some good friends that pushed until I gave in and submitted my baby.
     The day my acceptance letter (email, but who’s counting? I still have that puppy saved too :D) arrived, I felt like the luckiest person alive! Now, that might not be everyone’s idea of lucky (I know, you were hoping for some yummy smut, sorry ;)), but for an aspiring author, it’s pretty much to greatest day ever.
     Now, if we’re talking personal lucky... well, since I have to keep it clean *pout* I’ll have to go for having my... Nope, that’s not PG rated. Well, then, how about... Nope, that definitely NOT PG, lol.
     Going to my first drag show in years and not only having a wonderful time—and seeing some of the hottest drag queens ever!—but I was able to meet some of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence! They are wonderful people and I am simply amazed by all the good they while wearing a pound of makeup and heels. (I would kill myself if I even thought hard about the heels!) I love meeting new people, but even more so when those people help others. The local Sisters spend a lot of time helping the youth in our area, something many know if support 100%.
     So meeting them counts on my list of lucky. I even got a pic with them, my ugly mug in the middle. I will be looking into ways I might can help support their efforts as our youth are always in need, sadly.
     One of my stories that came out last year is part of the Hope & Love anthology. All proceeds go to the local LGBT Center in Milwaukee, by the way, and they make a huge difference in the lives of both young and not so young alike. Their Project Q does amazing things! Here’s a small excerpt from Micah’s Medicine:
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     The light flashed the little walking guy, pulling his focus back to now, so he took off across the street, deciding to head to the park nearby. It wasn’t one of those kiddie parks like his mom tended to drag him to. No, the one he headed to was a skate park near the beach. He also knew there was a good chance he’d run into his friend, but like always, push the thoughts that accompanied them away. He wasn’t willing to lose his friend just because boys, not girls, were what caught his attention. Micah had learned to keep his wandering eyes to himself, though Perry made it hard.
     Rolling along the sidewalk, he was careful to stay out of the way of the people walking, not wishing to hear about being disrespectful when he got home—everyone in the neighborhood knew him, after all. Most of the way to the park, he heard someone shout his name from behind.
     Micah stopped and turned, surprised to see Perry running up behind him. Why does he have to be so freakin’ hot? Perry, or Pericles Mann, strode up, though he seemed a little stiff in his movements. He stopped in front of Micah, a light sheen of sweat already covered his tall, lanky body. His purple and black hair had that messy bed-head look so many of the guys worked hard for, but Micah knew that was just the way Perry looked. It too serious work and the weird hair paste stuff his dad got him, to make it into anything resembling “presentable.” Not that either of them ever cared about such things. He wore low-hanging loose shorts and a tight tank top, drawing Micah’s eyes everywhere they shouldn’t be.
     Perry panted, bent forward with his hands on his knees. He looked up and grinned. “Thanks for stopping, man. Been trying to catch you for two blocks!”
     “Sorry, Perry, didn’t hear ya. What’s up?” He noticed Perry didn’t have his board with him, or his bike for that matter. Weird.
     “Need a favor, if you’ve got time tomorrow.” Perry stood up straighter but his eyes no longer met Micah’s, that alone was enough to worry him.
    “’Course. What ‘cha need?” he asked, confused as he watched his best friend fidget.
     “I, um, I need a ride to the doctor and to the store tomorrow afternoon. But I don’t want my dad knowing,” he added in a rush.
     Micah thought about why Perry would go to the clinic without his dad—the shopping thing was normal. Neither set of parents approved of how they dressed, their boards, bikes, or on Perry’s case, hair. He shrugged. “Of course. Tell me the when and I come pick you up.”
     “Sweet! Thanks.”
     “No problem. Hey, where’s your board. I was heading to work on some new tricks.”
     Perry’s lips pulled down in a slight grimace. “Not today, ’kay. I’ll go watch and heckle, if you want,” he said, slinging his arm over Micah’s shoulder as they turned to walk the rest of the way to the park.
     Forced to bite the inside of his cheek, Micah reminded himself, again, that lusting after Perry was a bad idea. One doomed to be something he kept to his dreams and shower activities. “Sure. Maybe you can pick up some pointers. You know, so you don’t embarrass yourself so often.”
     Chuckling, Perry shoved him away. “Jerk. I can take you any day of the week, and you know it!”
     The image of Perry hovering over him flashed through his head before he could stop it. Thankfully, he didn’t think Perry noticed the small groan that slipped out. “Put up or shut up, and since I don’t see your board...”
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     Tempeste O’Riley is a pansexual gender fluid whose best friend growing up had the courage to do what she couldn’t–defy the hate and come out. He has been her hero ever since. She counts her friends, family, and Muse as her greatest blessings in life. She lives in Wisconsin with her children, reading, writing, and enjoying life.

Reach Tempeste at:

Website – http://tempesteoriley.com/

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/TempesteORiley.author

Twitter – http://twitter.com/TempesteO

 

Getting Lucky featuring Leslie Campbell

     One of my worst nightmares came to life about three years ago… 
     I was working at a job that I had devoted my life to for almost six years when the company got sold, and I found myself laid off.  I didn’t really have a lot in the bank, had taken out student loans and even a car loan after an accident that left my old car totaled just a month prior, not to mention rising credit card debt. 
     I panicked, to say the very least, and went into a period of depression that actually led to contemplating suicide.
     I kept asking God why he put me through something so terrible, never realizing this was a pattern of mine—to deny what I really wanted to do in life and follow the wrong path for the sake of acceptance (from family/friends/society), and my stubbornness and bad decision making were the reasons I felt used and abused for pretty much all of my life.
     In an attempt to pull myself back from the edge, I returned to doing things I loved to do before the “reality” that is adulthood hit, and found myself drawing again and creating other forms of art, but mostly writing.
     I wrote about what I’d been through after being laid off, planning on using it as a means of therapy to show myself that I’d done nothing to deserve it, when a great idea came to me…
     I decided to take my pain and entries and make them into a novel—a series, even!  Not only was I still allowing myself to heal by writing down all I had been through, but I could also share it with others who were going through the same thing, or looking to take their minds off of their own streak of bad luck.
     I wrote and completed my first novel a week before I finally got a call back for a new job (almost a year after losing the last, and four months after writing my novel).  By this time, my attitude had improved dramatically, I was no longer suicidal, I had hope, and it was all because I realized events had come full circle to remind me of what I really wanted to be doing with my life—writing!
     As painful as it was, as much as I’d never want to relive that year, losing a job I had foolishly treated as a career had allowed me to break free from the belief that if you work your classic nine-to-five and just push for your promotions, that was all you needed to get that big beautiful home and be debt free. 
     I was finally given an opportunity to be a writer, and I’m so happy to say that, and while the memory of my lay-off still stings, if it weren’t for that awful push out their front doors, I’d never had stumbled into the luck of finding out what I really want to do with my life.

Getting Lucky featuring Joe Cosentino

Jerry and Me

LA CAGE AUX FOLLES is my favorite musical. I am a huge fan of its musical creator, Jerry Herman, who wrote HELLO, DOLLY, MAME, MACK AND MABEL, and THE GRAND TOUR on Broadway.

As a college theatre professor, I took my students to see the 2004 Broadway revival of LA CAGE on a Wednesday matinee during its previews. It starred Gary Beach, Daniel Davis, and Gavin Creel. My students and I were seated in the rear of the theatre, as is usually the case for group student sales.

A few minutes before the curtain went up, I spotted Jerry Herman sitting in the third row center orchestra with a group of elderly patrons. Since my students were otherwise engaged in cell phone heaven, I made my way to the front of the orchestra and stood in the aisle next to Jerry Herman’s seat. Sounding like Lauren Bacall with a cold, I said, “Mr. Herman, I’ve seen all of your plays, and I own all of your musical CDs, and I loved your autobiography.” I spoke faster than a patter song on fast forward.

“Thank you so much,” Jerry Herman replied with a gracious smile as he pulled down the jacket of his black suit.

After the king of the musical theatre kindly signed the cover of my playbill (over Harvey Fierstein’s name), the lights began to fade in the theatre. “These people aren’t coming.” Jerry Herman pointed to the seats next to him. “You can sit here.”

As if struck by lightning, I fell into the chair next to Jerry Herman. 

The curtain went up on the amazing show. I reveled in every hysterically funny and moving scene, and was moved by each brilliant song—while sitting next to Jerry Herman. I literally rubbed elbows with him as we both applauded wildly at the end of each number.

At intermission, after I checked on my students (still in cell phone euphoria), Jerry Herman and I (I love the sound of that) discussed the show’s many attributes. After the curtain call, I thanked Mr. Herman for the seat. “Mr. Herman, I’m sure this show will win the Tony Award for Best Musical Revival.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Jerry Herman replied with a wink.

Months later when watching the Tony Awards on television, I cheered as LA CAGE AUX FOLLES indeed won the award for Best Musical Revival (and Best Choreography) that year. I wondered if Jerry Herman thought of me. I sure thought of him.

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Joe Cosentino is the author of Paper Doll, the first Jana Lane mystery (Whiskey Creek Press), An Infatuation (Dreamspinner Press), Drama Queen, the first Nicky and Noah mystery (Lethe Press-releasing this summer), and The Nutcracker and the Mouse King (Eldridge Plays and Musicals). He has appeared in principal acting roles in film, television, and theatre, opposite stars such as Bruce Willis, Rosie O’Donnell, Nathan Lane, Holland Taylor, and Jason Robards. His one-act plays, Infatuation and Neighbor, were performed in New York City. He wrote The Perils of Pauline educational film (Prentice Hall Publishers). Joe is currently Head of the Department/Professor at a college in upstate New York, and is happily married. His upcoming novels are Porcelain Doll (the second Jana Lane mystery) and Drama Muscle (the second Nicky and Noah mystery). http://www.JoeCosentino.weebly.com

Getting Lucky featuring Bronwyn Heeley

     I’ve been having a think about my life and what I’ve been lucky about, and people could say that I was just lucky to live in the family I did, but that seems like a cop of an answer, as, well, that would be it.
     So thinking hard I have only one thing I feel I was lucky about, and though it took me a long time to realise this, I got lucky.
     You see my teen years were… we’ll I would love to say I have regrets and yeah, like every teen I do, but I wasn’t mean to anyone who didn’t poke me to a point that I actually opened my mouth and went at them. It wasn’t often. Though I also can’t say that I never stood back and watched as someone went at another person, that I wasn’t on the sideline as one of my mates, was doing or being bullied—most being. You think the ‘popular’ people went at the ‘geeks’, the ‘weirdo’ the most, you’d be wrong, they hit at home first, they hit there worse.
     Still, I was in the type of group that had a Queen B, of sorts (she’d deny it of course). the type of B that sat around with her disciples as they did her bidding, giving just enough to make people think that she had your back, that you were the most important person to her, as long as you could be that back. You had to be that back a lot more than she’d give you.
     When I had my first child, she lost my loyalty, or at least that type that had me running at her every call. I want to say that I did this because I was a friend, which I did, I’m that type of friend. Though let’s face it, I’m not a leader, I don’t want to be a leader and I’m that laid back that most of the time I don’t give a shit one way or another which way I went as long as we got somewhere.
     I did what she wanted me to do. I was there for her, but she was also that for me, more so then I saw her there for anyone else, bat that isn’t to say in her mind that I wasn’t a worker bee doing her bidding.
     Like I said, I had my first child and he became my world. I couldn’t go to her whenever she rang because I needed to be there for my son. I couldn’t go out drinking on both Friday and Sat because my partner worked on the Saturday and I had to be home (she didn’t understand why I couldn’t just dump him at my parent).
     So, long story cut short (or shorter than it could have been, lol), she shunned me. I’m talking in that way they talk about on Friends, and I believe maybe an ep on How I Met Your Mother. No one answered my phone calls, no one called me. If I see them on the street they look the other way hoping not to see me and I smiled chuckle because after all this time I honestly don’t give a shit.
     It took me a long time to get to this point. To not be pissed, not so much because I lost the friend that I had, the sheep that followed and lapped at her feet, but that they did that to me, they shunned me. That SHE did that to me, which, like I said, took me a long time to realise that she did me the biggest favours in my life.
     She gave me the gift of leaving me, of allowing me to go out into the world and not have to do what she said, or allow her bulling tactics stop me in my tracks.
     I’d like to think I wouldn’t have been swayed, and in truth, I wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have stopped me from writing what I write, from reading what I read, because as much as she wanted me to be hers I was my own person and I never allow people to tell me not to like something, to not be the person I am. But if we’d still been friends with her—with that group, I wouldn’t have started reading in the first place, and without reading I wouldn’t have realised how much I wanted—needed, to write.
     I get it, how is this about ‘getting lucky’?? I hear you, but this was me GETTING LUCKY, it’s may have taken me a long time to get to this realisation. Because I love where my life is heading, I like that it has a place to go, that I have a ten year plan, and if I’d stayed friends with her my life would have been filled with an emptiness that isn’t there anymore, that nothing would have been able to fill, because this is what I want. This profession is the only one that’s kept my attention for more than a few years. 
     This is where I needed to be and I got effing luck that I am able to be here, and not sitting in some bitches backyard getting drunk off my arse 4 days a week, because that’s where I was heading in that group, that’s the life I would have had.
     How fucking boring.

First Love or Heartbreak featuring Cate Ashwood

       I am so excited to have the opportunity to write a little something for WON, and when I heard that the theme for this month was “first loves”, I was torn between talking about writing first loves, or telling the story of my first love. But for me (and I’m sure many other authors), the two are inextricably linked.
      My first love was in the sixth grade, and he was an older man in the seventh. I carried that torch for nearly two years, but one day I saw him making out with Rosie in the hallway at lunch. I was devastated. My best friend was going through something similar, and so to mend our broken hearts, we wrote stories for one another. She wrote my happy ending with David, and I wrote hers with Duncan.
      Those stories helped me get through my first heartbreak. Until I met my husband (which is a story for another time), I had, shall we say, bad luck in the romance department. Writing romance is a way for me to live vicariously through my characters, to have do-overs on things that didn’t go so smoothly in my own life the first time.
      Take my first kiss, as an example. My first real boyfriend, Patrick, was the son of a family friend, and like most girls, I had spent years imagining what that kiss would be like, who it would be with, where it would happen. What I didn’t expect was to be taken by surprise in my basement, but more than that, I didn’t expect it to be so wet. And I don’t think he expected me to burst into tears and run up the stairs, never to come back down. Eventually, he got the hint and went home.
      It wasn’t exactly the stuff romance novels are made of (although Patrick and I are still able to laugh about it today).
      One of the novels that will be coming out from Dreamspinner Press this summer is called The Storm Before the Calm, and this is a small excerpt of Charlie’s first kiss:
      "I tilted my head up to him, inviting him to take, giving myself over to what I hoped was about to happen.
       I didn’t have to wait long before Max bowed his head, brushing his lips across mine. It was slow, almost hesitant, but as he kissed me, it became hungrier until he was claiming my mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the kiss I’d shared with Beth Atkins at her birthday party in the sixth grade. This was hot and needy and powerful. Max possessed me—owned me—and I liked it. I shoved my hands into his hair, holding him to me, afraid he would stop. His lips were soft gentle but demanding as he pushed his tongue into my mouth. It was soft and velvety. I slid mine against his, the wet heat making my head spin.
      We broke apart, both of us panting a little as we stared at one another. I felt like my entire world had shifted, not only off its axis but into an entirely different solar system."

First Love and Heartbreak featuring Eden Winters

      Others here have told of their first loves, and the stories and loves have varied greatly. I’d like to add another dimension to the tales.
      I met my first love very young, and as luck would have it, we evolved together. Sometimes we moved in different directions, and sometimes in perfect accord. No matter how hard my day was, I could hide in my room and share all of my problems. I was never judged, never condemned, and always told things would be all right.
      Then my love and I would immerse ourselves in imagination, be someone else for a change. Fight other battles.
       Heartbreak occurred the day my mother discovered and didn’t understand. She was a practical woman, and quite frankly, my flights of fancy scared her. She cast my love out of my life, and forbade me to follow after. I sought comfort from others, and instead of reassurance, I heard, “You can’t.” The reasons changed, but no one believed. And since they didn’t believe, I stopped believing too.
      My heart broke. I cried. I mourned. A piece of me had been ripped asunder. Life wasn’t the same. Why? Why? What harm had we done?
      I gave in too easily. I should have fought harder. The one shining, perfect thing in my life, gone for good. Or so I thought. Chin up, I put the past behind me and tried to move on, pretending it was no big deal, pretending to be “normal”. Though sometimes, I thought I caught a glimpse…
      I married, had children, and learned of different forms of love. Though my heart was full to bursting for those two precious ones, something was missing, and my thoughts turned to my first love often. My children were and are the joy of my life. And they both loved books and printed words as much as I. They grew up, as children do, and left the nest.
      For a while I spent time with my love’s second cousin, a more practical version of what my heart yearned for, just enough to tease me with what I couldn’t have. No, those dreams had died. That ship had sailed. And I wasn’t on it. Turn off imagination and focus mundane tasks.
      I found myself alone, and not really sure what to do with my life. Then one day my old love comes to call. “I’m too old,” I say. “Too much time has passed. Maybe if we’d never parted years ago.” Fear. I’m afraid. Do I dare take a chance?
      “What’s time got to do with it?” my love asked. “Will you be any younger if you simply give up? I’ve been here waiting all along, I never really went anywhere.”
      My children were the ones to encourage me, who cheered me on, and who restored my faith in myself and my abilities. Instead of saying, “You can’t”, the asked, “Why not?”
      Quietly, stealthily, I reconnected with my old flame. We spent days together, weeks together, had such adventures, and stayed up late at night. Now, instead of exploring stars and solar systems as we’d done in my youth, we chased bad guys, visited with people who could turn into possums, and delved into the mystery of the eerie violin music haunting a Highland castle.
      Then we went public. Folks around the world embraced us and cheered us on.
      Though shaking in my shoes, I’ve brought my first love to meet my family, who now smile and tell me how proud they are. They still may not understand, but that’s okay. I get it completely, as I stroll off into the sunset, hand in hand with… my writing.
     We lost a lot of years, but we’re finally together.
      My first love and I.

 

Eden Winters, author of the award-winning Diversion series.

www.edenwinters.com

edenwinters@gmail.com

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Eden-Winters/e/B004A2ZFF4/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1424219812&sr=8-2-ent

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