My 9/11 Remembrance

This is a reprint of a post from last year. I don't have it in me to write something new. There really isn't much more to say. The hole in the skyline is still there. And so is the one in our hearts.


My 9/11 Remembrance


You had to be there to understand. 9/12/01. The stench of burning jet fuel, plastic, paper, and human beings wafted over the City. Every rear car window and front door sported an American flag poster, as did fences around schools, churches, security grates on storefronts.

Everyone waited patiently in security checkpoint lines at the bridges and tunnels. No bosses said a word if you were late for work. No horns, no reckless driving-there wasn't anyplace that seemed important enough to hurry to anymore.

The sounds of commercial jets had been replaced by F-16's flying over the City at regular intervals. The wail of sirens sent people into fits of tears, and there was always someone, often a stranger, there to comfort them, help them.

Candles started appearing at dusk. In windows, on front porches. In my Queens neighborhood, people were spontaneously drawn, carrying anything they could find with a light source, to an impromptu march down the main drag, Bell Boulevard, led by a fire truck, a parish priest from Sacred Heart Parish about to be recalled to active duty, and exhausted police officers and firefighters. We lined the sidewalks, waving flags, burning our fingers, holding hands, singing God Bless America.

I didn't think to take a camera to record it. I was too busy comforting a bereft friend and my kids, barely restraining my own emotions after the horror of the previous day.

A whole block of parking meters was adorned with votives, flames dancing in the warm breeze. While the fires raged downtown and frantic rescue efforts were underway, candle wax dripped over glass and metal onto the concrete sidewalks while viewfinders flashed "time expired."

I could never re-create that moment, and the feeling of comfort those flickering points of light in the darkness inspired in me, and no doubt many others.

Before the old-fashioned parking meters disappeared, to be replaced by muni-meter boxes that issue tickets for your car window, I immortalized a few as a reminder of that moment in time.

There is still a big empty pit at Ground Zero. The smell is long gone, but every time I look into that hole filled with construction activity, surrounded by a chain link fence, the memory of the stench returns, I gag. My heart still races when I hear a siren in the night, a low flying jet screams over my house, or a helicopter hovers with beacons flashing, looking for someone or something.

I will never forget the routine morning that turned into one of the most horrible I ever experienced, making me wonder how people in Israel, Gaza, and other war-ravaged nations survive.

I will never forget The Twin Towers of the World Trade Center and the lowly parking meter, forever linked in my memory.

My Kayaking Cape Cod Article Series

Here's what I've done on my summer vacation:

The third installment of my Kayaking Cape Cod Series has been posted, and there are three more to come.

Plus, I've now got a Facebook Fan Page where I've posted more pictures, plus all my book covers and writing related news.

The links to the articles are on my Facebook wall, but here are they are in case you want to go there direct.

The Family That Plays Together Stays Together

Kayaking the Salt Marshes in Cape Cod

Beach to Beach Kayaking in Brewster Massachusetts

I'd love it if you'd leave a comment (so would the editor)

Coming up:

Kayaking the Kettle Ponds, Brewster Massachusetts
Kayaking the Bass River, Dennis Massachusetts
Kayaking Salt Pond to Nauset Marsh, Eastham, Massachusetts

Big bonus: I just got back from a trip up the California Coast from LA to San Francisco. Wait until you see read the account of my kayak tour on Monterey Bay and see the pictures of the sea lions and otters up close! Stay tuned for more details.

A Review of Miss Foster's Folly by Alice Gaines

Manhattan, July 2010

Carole Ann Moleti is baking in the Big Apple, where the temperature today reached 101ºF in Central Park. The thermostat in her car read 105ºF. Rumor has it that it could be as high as 120º on a subway platform, but she was not about to go down there to check it out.

Sure it gets hotter in places like Las Vegas and Death Valley, but its dry heat—right? Here the humidity closes in around you like a shroud, making it hard to breath, to think, to do much of anything.

Carole's suggestions to beat the heat: Sit in a pool, or in your bathtub, or in your air conditioned apartment and read Alice Gaines' latest novel, Miss Foster's Folly, a recent release from Carina Press.

Warning, it's as hot as New York City on July 6 2010, but Alice's silky smooth prose will soothe the burn.

Manhattan, 1886

Juliet Foster has just become the wealthiest spinster in town. Her domineering and thoroughly unpleasant father has died and left her millions. She's free to be her own woman and seek a life of adventure.

David Winslow, Marquess of Derrington, is in search of a wife who can break the Winslow Curse. Every second-generation heir inherits a restless, defiant nature that can only be tamed by a mate as independent and rebellious as himself.

Miss Juliet Foster is perfect and eager for seduction. But when he wants more than a few nights of passion, Juliet runs like the devil's on her heels. Can the marquess convince her that marriage isn't a trap, but the greatest freedom of all?

And so begins Miss Foster's Folly: a rollicking trip across the Atlantic through the English countryside. Along the way, the reader meets a gaggle of quirky noblemen and women, including David's grandmother, Lady Harriet Winslow, the Dowager Marchioness of Derrington who redefines the meaning of a little old lady.

"I understand perfectly well. I was the same as you. I resisted with all my might until I finally didn’t want to fight any longer,” Lady Derrington said. “You wouldn’t believe how my Hugh finally convinced me.”

“I don’t think I want to know.”

“Let’s just say that feathers can be instruments of torture, and silk ties leave no marks.” Lady Derrington circled her wrist with the fingers of her other hand. “After that, we were inseparable for the rest of our lives.”

Juliet did her best to keep her expression bland, but from the smile of victory in the other woman’s eyes, she hadn’t managed completely. Feathers and silk bonds, oh dear.

And Juliet herself is no romantic, determined to get her way and spoil the Marquis' fun. Here's one of the PG-13 scenes, when Juliet decides to show off her knowledge of orchids while on a tour of a conservatory:

“You see, orchids like this one grow on trees. People think they’re parasites, but they actually only use the branches for support.

Derrington relaxed a bit, his shoulders lowering slowly to their normal position.

“Instead of fibrous roots, like most plants have, orchids have thick, fleshy ones,” she went on. “With tips that extend past their absorbent coating.”

Millie pried her way through the group until she’d reached Juliet’s side. “I don’t think our hosts really want a lecture in botany.”

“I do,” Blandings said. This time, Derrington glared at him.

"What?” Blandings sputtered. “What did I say?”

She pointed toward the beginning of a root appearing from the base of the plant in Derrington’s hand. “This little protuberance, for example.”

Anger flashed in Derrington’s eyes as he dared her with his expression to continue. Fine. She liked dares.

“It’s small now,” she said. “But soon, it’ll elongate and thicken.”

Lady Mitford laughed in earnest this time. Lord Mitford covered his mouth and coughed, but he couldn’t cover his mirth completely.

Juliet glanced toward the bench. “Oh, look. This plant’s root has grown so far it’s plunged deep into its neighbor’s pot.”

Millie stood close enough to touch her without the others seeing, and she reached out and pinched Juliet in the ribs. Hard.

Juliet smiled back at her for a moment and then turned to Derrington. She took the plant from his hand and held it up nearly under his nose. “But the most remarkable thing about this flower is this structure.” She trailed a fingertip along the blossom’s column in a slow caress. “It holds the reproductive organs, both male and female.”

For just a moment, she could have sworn she could hear Derrington’s teeth grinding. “And behind this cap on the head. Ah, yes, here.” She ran her fingernail along the underside of the column up to the anther cap. When she removed it, the pollinia came away stuck to her skin. “See, two little nubbins of pollen.”

Derrington’s face turned three shades of red, but he kept his features even. He took the plant back and held it out toward Lady Mitford. “Would you hold this, please?”

She took it from him. “Certainly.”

He grasped Juliet’s elbow, using as much or more force as he had the night of the ball. “Excuse us for a moment.”

Miss Foster's Folly is totally Victorian, and a hilarious, sexy read that will have you laughing your butt off and reaching for your marquis or marchioness.

Play Together, Stay Together in the Great Outdoors

I was away for my yearly vacation on the Cape, doing, ahem, research for my Kayaking on Cape Cod blog article series. If all work could be this fun...

The first installment Play Together, Stay Together in the Great Outdoors is posted and there are five more to come. I've been practicing what I preach.

The heat has threatened to melt my brain but since I got back there has been significant progress on my new novel. Look for a full update in the next week, once I get all links together.
Finally, my website is down for maintenance this week, so if you're looking for me rest assured I have not disappeared. You can always reach me here.

I'm Back!

I can't remember exactly when I fell into the black hole, but seem to recall it was sometime late last summer.

A victim of my own success, covering Worldcon and being away for eleven days last August, really set me back on writing activities. I had four nonfiction pieces come out between September and November, and a piece of fiction in January so my focus was on promotion and meeting deadlines for reviews and freelance assignments, not doing what I wanted to which was write some new fiction.

My job responsibilities and family demands and some bad stuff like dealing with my parents' health problems, have been a steady drain on my time and energy since last September.

It's taken me nearly a year to revise a paranormal novella and my novel Unfinished Business, and get the jump start the stalled process of selling them. I recently sent the full manuscripts for both to publishers that requested them (bites nails) and frankly, I'm very glad that I don't have to look at them for a while. The stories are solid, and I'm proud of them, but I need a change.

I've begun work on The Widow's Walk, a sequel to Unfinished Business, and since I know the characters so well, they're spilling their guts. I'm also doing some research to flesh out the plot of my urban fantasy Boulevard of Bad Spells and Broken Dreams, which I'm really excited about since it's so different than the paranormal romances.

I'm celebrating the five-year anniversary of my entrée into creative writing, and the four year anniversary of Specfictionfledglings, a Yahoo group formed by myself and several other workshop buddies. It's been such a delight to see folks who, like me, started at the beginning are now writing (and publishing) such diverse works as novels, short stories, graphic novels, and screenplays. Where else could I find people debating how and when bananas were cultivated in the Caribbean? How's that for fact checking?

And I can't be more thankful for groups like Professional Authors and its many spin-offs, all moderated by Rayne Hall, and the Anticiworkshop (born after Worldcon) where I've gotten super-solid help with all my works in progress. Special shout outs to Rayne and Barbara G. whose detailed critiques and background knowledge on a vast number of subjects helped immeasurably with both works. Oliver helped me sink the boat, and when Alice, who's a pro romance writer, says she likes something--wow, what a boost.

Right now, I'm shell shocked, wandering around the house looking for this big monkey that's been hanging on my back. It's going to take me some time to get back into the writing mode--but I'm really looking forward to it.

No reviews this month and my report on the Fantastic Fiction readings for June are at:

http://www.caroleannmoleti.com/forum.html#bn-forum-1-1-4113162193/6990

Coming soon:
A review of Alice Gaines newest novel Miss Foster's Folly--just released by Carina Press. I give it a five star rating for delicious, Victorian humor. Five flame warning for the less adventurous reader.

I've Been Abducted by Aliens

I decided to post a quick post explanation for my absence from crit circles and social networking. Actually, my absence from anything but my office, car, or kitchen.

Alien being, in the form of teenagers, have sucked me into their world and are holding me hostage. My own two teenagers (and all their associated drama including mischief, college selection/auditions, sports, birthdays, school events, concerts…) plus the 1000 or so entrusted to me in the school based health center I staff in a New York City public high school (lots of mischief and mayhem, asthma and viruses, but thankfully no swine flu this year).

Any spare time, and it isn't much, has been spent on another revision of Unfinished Business, based up comments I got from an editor at Anticipation last year, as well as some superb crit partners helping me re-work the opening. I'm up to Chapter 36 of 42 and on target for another round of submissions by June 1. But if I don't stay focused and off the Internet, that rather unpalatable task will never get done.

Except for some contracted assignments and reviews already promised, I will not be doing new writing, marketing, critting, or subbing until the end of the school year on June 30. Haven't made it to Fantastic Fiction since February, and May doesn't look good with a 6 p.m. ball game scheduled.

Here's what has been published over the last month or so:

Reviews:

Tails of Wonder and Imagination, edited by Ellen Datlow

http://www.tangentonline.com/print--other-reviewsmenu-263/anthologies-reviewsmenu-107/1335-tails-of-wonder-and-imagination

Articles: "What Not to Drink When Kayaking"

http://www.inflatablekayakblog.com/general-subjects/811-what-not-to-drink-when-kayaking/

Fiction:

An excerpt of Unfinished Business that really did have a kayak in it before this gig (not an inflatable with the buy link embedded) but this is ad copy after all.

http://www.inflatablekayakblog.com/adventures/842-paines-creek-a-fictional-kayak-story/

Time to make my captors breakfast and get going on today's activities.

Women's Fiction, Romance and Erotica

I've just done a guest spot on Rachel Brimble's blog, and there is quite a discusion going. I thought some of my friends on LJ might be interested.

I'm talking about the derision romance and erotica writers experience, and pose an interesting question: Why do we call it "women's fiction" when the majority of readers are women.

Join us as I list some of my all time favorite chicklit/romance/erotica stories, some relevant nonfiction, and reviews I've done for The Fix and Tangent Online, including that of Best Fantastic Erotica edited by Cecilia Tan. Included in that list are three male authors, two of whom were Hugo nominated for their stories, one of whom won the award in 2007. One is chick lit, the other paranormal romance. Hop on over to Rachel's blog and join the discussion.
Carole Ann Moleti probes a little deeper into "Women's Fiction"