Autographs

I wrote my first autograph the other day. Nothing fancy, just signed my name. Autograph's are cool and all, but I've never gotten one from anyone. Perhaps that should change... Well, let me explain.
I never understood society's interest in autographs. I suppose, on one hand, it makes sense. We want to have proof that we actually met such a person. Like, if I have a certain person's signature, then I can flout to the world, "I actually met Scott Elkins!" Though, in one sense, that is rather prideful.
Still, if that's case, then why don't we get autographs of our friends and family? Sure, we probably don't know anyone famous, but why should that make a difference? Shouldn't we be just as proud to shout to the world that "I've met John Smith!" as "I've met Chris Wise!"? If we do otherwise, isn't that hypocritical of us?
So here's my challenge. Let's not just go after the autographs of the famous people (people like Neil Gaiman, James Rollins, or Shane Claiborne) let's go after the autographs of semi-famous people (like Katie Lynn Daniels or Theodora Ashcraft) and even 'normal' people like Jesse Rice or John Smith.
Ever wanted to give your autograph to someone? Wouldn't it make your day for someone to come up to you and say, "You're (insert your name here)! Can I have your autograph?" What if we started doing that to our friends? How would that make them feel? And isn't an autograph from them more important than some famous person you know a lot about, but hardly know?
Most important, an autograph is only your name written on a piece of paper. Our names represent who we are. When we write our name for someone, it is like showing someone who we are. However, I lives really represent who we are. What if we started living our autographs instead of merely writing them? What if we wrote our lives out "To Austin, with love, Jesse Rice." and actually meant it? What would we truly live like if our lives were dedicated to each other? Or, perhaps, to someone greater?
"If you give a glass of water to someone in my name, you give one to me."

Amazon

My book is now available on Amazon! Check it out! The Missing Kitten

Book Review: Supervillain of the Day

Here's my first book review! Hurrah!
Anyway, I first heard about this book because I'm a friend of the author (Katie Lynn Daniels). Well, friend is a strong word, and I don't know if she'd agree. Let's say we are strong acquaintances. Yeah, that works.
Anyway (again), I got this book mere days after it was released and read it quickly after.
What can I say about it? Well, I could say "It's terrible!", "It's boring!", or "It's the best thing to come out of England since Sherlock Holmes!", but none of those would be true. It's not terrible, it's not boring, and the author is from Kentucky, not England. This book is not brilliant, but it is a good, short book.
What else can I say? I once referred to it as the Don Quixote of Superhero fiction, but better.
What do I mean by that? I mean it's better written... oh, you mean the other part? Well, Don Quixote was a book that made fun of common stories of his time by stringing together a group of stereotypes from them into a story. Supervillain of the Day does the same, but with a better story, in my opinion.
The basic plot is this: Supervillains spontaneously come into being out of normal humans, and no one knows how. Tabloid Reporter Jeffry Floyd just happens to live in the one place on Earth (London) where no Supervillains can be found. When given an ultimatum to find some Supervillains or else, Jeffry goes to Scotland Yard and ends up wrapped up in a scheme to take over not just the Supervillains of London, but also all the normal humans as well.
I don't want to say much else, because it might give away the story. Yes, this story isn't perfect. There is some info-dumping which I found a bit unnecessary, but it's still an enjoyable read and the book is a nice set up for more adventures concerning Floyd, his Inspector 'friend' Adams, and their 'adventures' with Supervillains.
I hope you check out this book and enjoy it as much as I did.

Excerpt

I told you I would give you an excerpt, so here it is!

Prologue

I walked slowly toward the farm. It was the fifth one I’d stepped onto today, and those other four had each been between long walks. I stumbled forward, tripping over my own feet. Mum had always called me clumsy. Maybe I was. Still, I was only a kitten. Just because I was snowy white and innocent-looking didn’t mean I was perfect.

“Hello?” I called.

There was no reply. I stopped for a moment, feeling especially dejected. The sun was sinking down below the ridge that rose up in the west. Was this farm deserted? Or, perhaps, did dogs live here? Even the thought of dogs couldn’t send a shiver through my weary heart at the moment. Nothing could bring me to be afraid after what I’d seen. After the horrors of watching my parents die.

I shook such thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t want to think of that. “Is anyone home?” My voice sounded as feeble as I felt.

“Hello? Who’s there? Is that you, Rambo?” A cat appeared out from behind a bush. His golden hair swayed slightly with the evening breeze.

I shivered. “Sir, I was wondering if you might have a place where I could stay.”

The cat looked at me. He wasn’t old, probably only a few months older than I. Still, to such a kitten like me that seemed ancient.

“Sir,” I started again.

“I-” he interrupted, then paused.

“Butch! Where are you?” A calico cat with a brilliant golden spot on her forehead stepped out from behind the bush. Her hair was elegant, almost glowing. She looked so much better than I, in my bedraggled state. I could tell from the look on her face that she was disgusted at the very sight of an orphan like me.

“What in the world are you?” the calico cat asked.

“I’m an orphan, ma’am.” I put on my best face, forcing a smile onto my lips. My act broke as a tear slipped down my cheek. I slumped to the ground.

“Oh dear! Is it wounded?” the calico cat asked, not moving or checking herself.

The golden cat stepped forward and nudged me gently. “You okay?”

I nodded weakly. “Just tired, sir.” I tried to remain as polite as possible, hoping against hope that they might allow me to stay here.

The golden cat turned back to his companion. “Just tired.”

“Great!” the calico cat purred. “Then it can move right along.” Her tail rose up in the air as she turned away.

“Spot,” the golden cat sighed, stopping her.

“I’m serious, Butch,” the calico cat, Spot, said. “We don’t have the facilities or the intelligence to take care of a kitten such as that. Well, Nelly might, but she has her paws full.” She turned to me. “I heard of a great place just down the creek. It’s a kitten orphanage, or something. Just the place for the likes of you.” Her tone was pleasant, but the words coming out still made me feel inferior.

“Yes ma’am,” I murmured, struggling to my feet. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Butch put up one more feeble effort. “Spot….”

I could tell Spot didn’t want me here, and the golden cat would only get in trouble for sticking up for me. “No sir, I’m really fine.”

Butch hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I trundled on, passing through the yard and into the pasture. Then I walked beyond and followed the man-made path that spread out between the corn field and the creek. Somewhere ahead I would find the orphanage. Until then, just keep walking.

News

Hey, everyone! Rather, the five people who actually read this thing (hi, siblings!). I have some news for you. I got my proof copy (a couple days ago, actually) and it looks cool! A couple pictures to proof (I mean, prove) it:

And, yes, that is my natural hair.

Some more news: My book's published! Hurrah! Here's a link: The Missing Kitten
I'll release an excerpt of the book soon, just on a different post (so it's not so cluttered).
There. That's my news! Adios world!

Cards

Interesting how anger works. It seems to be a license. A license which is swiped and said to be okay for swearing, yelling--even to the edge of screaming, insulting, saying cruel things. Then there appears this card called the apology card, and you swipe this one too, so everything will be okay afterwards. There is only one thing. You can never take back your words because as soon as they came from your mouth it was impossible. They say betrayal is a trust breaker, and dishonesty too. Well. I guess you can keep swiping that anger card and that apology card, and see if that is true.    -MELR

I'm sure most people have a credit card, or know someone who has a credit card. This is the kind of imagery this quote is talking about. Just swiping a card and getting what you want. And, like a credit card, eventually the price has to be paid.
The problem is, there's a card missing. There's another card that needs to come into play: the love card. This is the card that says, "This isn't right." It's not a card that gives the right to smash the other person over the head. It's not a card that allows for hatred and bitterness. It's a card that seeks recovery and reconciliation. It's not an easy card to use. And this card needs to be swiped over and over again. Swiping this card will mean there may be a long wait before you can see the reward. There may be not perceivable change. Yet this is the card that we all carry and we all can swipe.
How often do you use your card?

Edit: By this post I am in no way discrediting the original quote. It is a legitimate quote speaking about the problem of using excuses for anger. I am trying to speak about the response of the one who is hurt, and this plays off the quote, it doesn't reduce it.

Authors and Links

Another day of waiting. Hurrah! While I wait to be published, here's a list of writers who are already published.

Katie Lynn Daniels, Author of the Supervillain of the Day series (Katie Lynn Daniels Supervillain of the Day)

Theodora Ashcraft, Author of Sangre: the Phantom's Lair and Of Whispers and Wanderings (Whispers of Wind and Song)

J. Grace Pennington, Author of Firmament: Radialloy and Never (J. Grace Pennington)

Aubrey Hansen, Author of Red Rain and The Peter's Angel Saga: Peter's Angel (Aubrey Hansen)

Don't forget to check out the Holyworlds Blog Marathon: Speculative Fiction Through Time and Space.