Guest Post: Meradeth Houston ("Colors Like Memories" Blog Tour)

Aloha,

MANY thanks to everyone who followed along with the mayhem of my Mother’s Day adventure to Victoria’s Secret. (If you missed it, here it is.)

Today, however, I am excited to move over and allow a published author to take the stage J

Meradeth Houston has just released her new book, Colors Like Memories and here she is to share some thoughts on world-building…

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While reading Mark’s blog, I love the pictures he posts of Hawaii. I’ve been there exactly two times, and it’s an awesome place.

(My sister, the lucky butt, went to college there—I regularly wonder what on earth I was thinking when I decided to go to school someplace cold and snowy when there were perfectly good schools near a sunny beach…)
Anyhow, the times I’ve been able to visit HI, I’ve loved plopping myself down on the sand, and looking at the awesome mountains that make up the islands. Random, I know, but the reason behind this is because it always made me think of the people in my book—the Sary.
Okay, every time I mention the Sary to people, I get blank looks, and occasionally an “I googled them and all I found was some kind of dress they wear in India.”

Yeah, I know, the Sary are a people I made up :)

They’re kind of like a version of guardian angels, complete with wings, but also able to blend in with normal people. Their job is to keep people from committing suicide. Their homeland is a mountainous island—one that bears a striking similarity to the peaks of the Hawaiian Islands. 

(One day I’ll get to make another trip to the Islands and write it off as “research”!)

Anyhow, the last time I was in Hawaii, I was able to take some time and sit down to write, and I found myself making notes on the mountains—the shapes, sounds, colors, and other fun little details that presented themselves. For me, it really helped bring that part of my world-building alive. Not all of what I wrote down will make it into a novel, but it helped bring the Sary and their world into sharper focus for me, and that in turn helped with everything else.


Okay, so taking a trip to the setting of your WIP may not be possible. Maybe it’s too far away, too expensive, or maybe it doesn’t exist. For a few things I’ve written, though, I have found Google Street View to be an invaluable tool, because it allows me to “walk” in places my characters have been, but I’ve never seen in real life. Of course, getting a trip back in time to the Civil War period in the States, or in France probably isn’t going to happen anytime soon (at least until I can convince my in-residence physicist that the time-machine project is top-priority).

But, there’s always research for the out-of-the-way world building, which is a lot more fun than it may sound! I mean, sure, there’s books, and Google, and oodles of time involved, but when it comes down to creating a vivid picture in your mind (and on paper of course), it’s totally worth it.

Curious minds want to know: what you’re favorite part of world-building? What’s the strangest thing you’ve had to research to learn about?

About Colors Like Memories:
Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident—sort of.

Julia is a Sary, the soul of a child who died before taking her first breath. Without this 'breath of life' she and others like her must help those on the verge of suicide. It's a job Julia used to enjoy, until the accident that claimed her boyfriend’s life—an accident she knows was her fault. If living with the guilt weren't enough, she's now assigned to help a girl dealing with the loss of her mother, something Julia's not exactly the best role model for. If she can't figure out a way to help her, Julia's going to lose her position in the Sary, something she swore to her boyfriend would never happen.
Release date: May 11, 2012 (MuseItUp Publishing.)

 A bit about Meradeth Houston:

·         I'm a California girl. This generally means I talk too fast and use "like" a lot.

·         I have my doctorate in molecular anthropology. Translation: I

sequence dead people's DNA and am a professional lab rat.

·         I've been writing since I was 11 years old. It's my hobby, my passion, and I'm so happy to get to share my work!

·         My other passion is teaching. There's nothing more fun than getting a classroom of college kids fired up about anthropology!

·         If I could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because I'm terrified of heights.

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Thanks for stopping by, Meradeth, and SUPER Congrats on the release of Colors Like Memories J

Color Like Memories is available on Amazon here and via Muse It Up Publishing here.

For more info, please visit:

www.MeradethHouston.com
http://meradethhouston.blogspot.com/
https://twitter.com/#!/MeradethHouston
www.goodreads.com/book/show/13030422-colors-like-memories
http://www.facebook.com/ColorsLikeMemories

Me, Mother's Day & Victoria's Secret: The Finale

Aloha,

The Season Finale :)

Part One is here.
Part Two is here.
Part Three is here.

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The streets of Honolulu were hot and humid as I walked along the upscale
of course it was
district leading to Victoria’s Secret.

Stores like PRADA and COACH were here and I passed Armani Exchange and its sandwich board advertising a special: Men’s Shorts: two for $88.

Holding No. 2 son, while pushing baby, I kept a low profile so Hawaii 5-0 wouldn’t arrest me for neglecting my shoeless son…
Bad parent! Bad parent!

And then, there she was.

Victoria, and all her secrets.

I’ve never been so happy to see a half-naked, sexy woman in a window – even after living in Amsterdam for three years.

I walked into the blessed relief of air conditioned bras.

And panties.

I looked around.

More bras.
More panties.
Good grief, where do I begin?

A lady in black caught my terror-struck eyes and immediately asked if I needed any help?

“Look, Papa, it’s a construction hat…”
“Oh, yes, please can you help... Son, get your bloody head out of that bra…”

Curtailing the able-bodied boys, I fished out my wife’s wish list.

“Do you have these… please?” I blubbered.
“Ah yes, sure, follow me upstairs.”
“There’s a second floor… There’s more bras and panties?”

(I own eight pairs of boxers – the extra one is for emergencies… I’m not getting any younger, you see.)

“Yes, sir. And, the elevator is right over here…”

A what?

No! Please not that…

“I can carry the stroller up the stairs, if you like?” I asked hopefully.

She shook her head, and we gathered outside the steel door.

It opened. The boys ran in and No. 2 Son looked for “Light! Light ON.”

I stood guard over the few buttons and smiled at my guardian angel (who must have left those big wing things at home.)
Exiting, she brought me to one corner, where hundreds and hundreds of panties lay on display.

Rows and rows... it was like a rainbow of panties...

Finally, I caught a break. The boys found a huge loveseat (of course) and were busy beating each other to a bloody pulp.
My sweet, well-behaved (semi-shoeless) boys.

And, then she bent to pull on a drawer.

My eyes bugged, I mean literally, they nearly popped out.

I looked down, across… and then behind me.

There were dozens of drawers, all full of drawers.

I stared at this one drawer though – my holy grail of panties.

Imagining a white light (and some Gregorian chanting) emanating from the back of the drawer, I looked up at my Angel.

“Is this it? Is this what I came for?”
“Yes.”

Thanking her so very much for her wonderful help, I mustered the troops.

“Guys, come here, quick!”

No. 1 Son picked (from the ground) this mango for Mama

The boys scooted over and No. 1 Son picked his five favorite colors.
As I made our way to the cashier, a “buy something for yourself, too…” memory hit me, but my internal battery was down to one flashing red bar.



I had a headache.




We paid – and after an uneventful walk of shame…
“Look Mama, that boy over there with the bald man, he has no shoes.”
“Shh, dahling, don’t talk about poor people like that – and besides, look at these two cheap pairs of shorts I bought your father.”
…we made it back to the van, drove home... and that’s the end.

NO WAY, dude that sucks… what really happened?

OK, OK…so there is a little more….

Suh-weet! Encore, encore!
Ahh, thanks, I’ve never had a writer’s encore before…

Fast Forward to Mother’s Day. My wife is enjoying breakfast in bed as I share the adventure of the previous Friday…

No. 1 Son decides it’s good to share.

“I had no shoes, Mama, I walked with no shoes!”

Thank. You. Son.

“You’re Welcome, Papa!”

Anyway, it is with immense pride that I watched my beloved remove her five new undies – the spoils of my now infamous panty raid.

She giggled.

Three of the five panties were the wrong style.
Two of the five were the wrong size.

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Gentlemen, the moral of the story is…

Don’t let this happen to you.
Order online.
It’s safer.

And, always have flowers in your back up plan :)

Me, Mother's Day & Victoria's Secret (Part THREE)

Aloha,

This daily series of my Mother's Day gift-buying adventure to Victoria's Secret ends tomorrow.

Part One is here.
Part Two is here.

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Releasing the car seat (with baby) I placed both next to the hood – where I now remember was where I’d left the Mother’s Day card… That was the “litter” blowing off the windscreen earlier...

Seriously.
Never mind the card, don’t forget the baby.
Oh, yeah…

With No. 1 Son locked in stroller, I grabbed the baby harness my wife wears with ease.

Licensed by a car company, it was a bloody straitjacket… I couldn’t figure what was up or down – even when I held the logo out in front like a hood ornament.
I tried one hand here, unsnapping this and grabbing that… but whatever, dude… that thing wouldn’t hold air, let alone No. 3 Son.

Wiping sweat off my brow, I threw the harness back and said to heck with it.

I’ll carry baby, roll the stroller and No. 2 Son will follow my sharply given commands.
Doors locked.
Off we go.

 Ten steps later… after weaving stroller somewhat toward the elevator, I called halt, which three of us did (considering I was holding one and pushing the other.)

No. 2 Son however... he kept on trucking like he was freeeee.

“Catck me, Papa. Papa. Catck me…”

Stroller wheels locked, baby bouncing, I catch up with the Runaway Son as he turns for level seven...
Bloody Nora, this ain’t gonna work.

Change permutations.

Baby in stroller – pull straps TIGHT.
(Remember to scootch him back to center as needed.)

Hold No. 2 Son in manly arms; hunker down for serious eye contact moment with No. 1 Son, (who looks at me in awe for arranging such a great adventure.)

“OK, you’re walking to the store without any shoe–”

“COOL!”
“Watch for glass or rocks. If the ground is too hot, let me know.”

He gets my most serious glare.

“And, whatever happens, don’t. Tell. Your. Mother!”
“But, Papa…?”
“Yes, son.”
“Mama will find out when she reads this…”
“She already knows… plus you didn’t really say the last few lines – I’m using ‘artistic license.’”

Stopping by the elevator, I lower No. 2 Son, and catching my breath, I relax.

Nothing could go wrong…
Ding!

Source: photobucket.com/SheratonCharlotte

“Ok, guys c’mon, c’mon,” I said nodding thanks to the man already inside as he threw an arm to hold the door.

I looked to my right as No. 1 Son pressed NINE and TEN.

“No, no. ‘G’, we need ‘G.”

I turned to see what No. 2 was doing as our unlucky companion pressed into a corner.

OK, good. This elevator has only one bank of buttons. Nothing for No. 2 to press…

Except the emergency call button…

“NOoooooo!!!”

Too late…
“Light. Papa. Light. On.”

Ring… Ring…

“Hello, Emergency Services. Is there an emergency,” said A Stern Voice from the speaker, set about eighteen inches off the ground.

Who puts the emergency thingy on the other side of the buttons???

I’m six-two, so my arse stuck up in the air as I shushed No. 2 Son and talked to Stern Voice.

“No, sorry, it was my son; he pressed the button by mistake…”

“Hello? Can you hear me? IS there an emergency?”

I bent lower – arse goes higher – thinking it wouldn’t surprise me if the guy in the corner jumps on five and walks…

“No emergency, my son pressed the button,” I said – throwing my sweet, button-pressing son under the bus – again.
Great job, Papa…

CLICK!
OK, fine. Be like that.

Arriving at “G”, our new friend bolts.

I threw him a “sorry” as I regrouped the troops.

My thirty minutes was dwindling, but there was still hope.

“Ready, Son?”

“Ready, Papa!”

I moved No. 2 son to the lesser of my two burning arms, unlocked the stroller and we lumbered off into the heart of Honolulu.

Next stop: Victoria’s Secret.

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The Finale posts tomorrow, Thursday…

Me, Mother's Day & Victoria's Secret (Part TWO)

Aloha,

I don’t post Tuesdays – but something happened J Friday.

(This is PART TWO of a daily series ending Thursday - at the latest J)

Part One is here.

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I switched on GPS, and double checked the address via Droid.

I was not getting lost on this panty raid.

Driving away, a small, plastic bag blew off the side of the windscreen.

Man, I hate litterers.

Freeway traffic was light, and I soon hit the final road leading to Victoria’s Secret.

Not knowing if it was on the left or right, I did as many males would – I cast away the physical address and looked for the physical attributes.

There must be a window-sized lingerie model somewhere around here… and there she is… On the left!

Like a lacy beacon in a busty, er busy street, the store entrance was at street level, which meant I wouldn’t have to waste time traversing any strange malls.

Oh, happy days, this is easy.

“We did it, boys, we did it,” I shouted to the kids, (as if we’d travelled nonstop from Boston to Los Angeles.)

“Papa, can I have the snack bag, please,” said No. 1 Son.

“Let me just find parking.”

I made the next left. It was all loading and unloading only.

OK.

Then I saw a parking garage offering two options: the flat $9 rate, or $2 per thirty minutes.

 “Boys… look sharp… if we rush, we can get there, and be back here in thirty minutes, right?”

“Papa, can I have the snack bag, please?”

“Sure, sure, let me just park.”

I told the lady we were here for the $2 special. She smiled and warned not to park in levels one to four, “‘cos you’ll get a ticket.”

No worries.

It’s 10 a.m. on a Friday, there’ll be spots on level five. Surely.

At level three, we pass ROSS, (a clothing store.) Momentarily, I muse and wonder if they sell Victoria’s Secrets panties. They might be cheaper, too??

But then you won’t get the little pink bag thing…

Right, right.

By the time we reached level eight, the older boys were playing “what’s the next number!” game, and I was getting dizzy.

We parked (on eight) and Operation Buy Panties was a GO!

Stroller out – wheels locked.   CHECK.

No. 3 Son in car seat – attached to stroller.   CHECK

No. 2 Son unbuckled and removed from van. Placed next to left hip. CHECK.

Reach in cramped space for No. 1 Son’s shoes (he always removes them.)   CHECK.

Continue searching for shoes like I’m bobbing for apples.   OH, Check.

A just-before-leaving-the-house memory hits me with the force of a Wonderbra.

“Don’t forget his blue shoes…”

 “Son... Where. Are. Your. Shoes?”

“In the new house. Papa. Can I have the snack bag, please?”

“Oh, yeah, Sure. Here, take this.”

Let me think, let me think.

OK, No. 1 Son can’t walk with no shoes…oh my gosh, he’ll cut himself… get an infection, and we’ll have to take him to the ER – probably on Mother’s Day. No, no, no, no.

But what to do?

Go home?

Give in – let the panties win?

What would I tell my wife?

I looked at the kids… No. 1 Son was happy with his snack bag, No. 2 was playing with the front tire and waiting for further orders, while No. 3 son chilled out atop the stroller.

Atop the stroller.

Kids can sit on those.

Kids without shoes.

I had a great idea….

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PART THREE posts tomorrow, Wednesday…