Blog Archives
A Cat-Friendly Book Trailer
While experimenting with GIMP (GNU Image Manipulation Program) we created the following book trailer for Time’s Edge.
The Mom Voice
We have interesting discussions at our house. The other day we were talking about universal constants. (We can’t remember how this worked its way into the conversation, but that happens a lot around here.) We talked about the speed of light. Gravity. Moms.
Moms was our daughter’s contribution. She firmly stated there is one thing that is instantly recognized everywhere, regardless of where in the world you happen to be. The Mom Voice.
Everyone knows the Mom Voice. It is the voice that freezes children on playgrounds. It stops physical action with one word. It can be heard over distances that would make even fire truck horns sound muted. It is the ultimate authority, that instantly recognized tone to which all beings respond.
We have seen the Mom Voice in action many times. Once, while on vacation, we had a room overlooking the hotel pool. It had begun to rain and thunder, but several kids were still swimming. One irate mom, who had sent her husband to (unsuccessfully) extract their children from the pool, came to the edge of the water, put her hands on her hips and commanded, “Get out of the pool. NOW!” Not only did her children promptly vacate the pool, every other child (and a few dads) also sprang from the water.
At our house, the Mom Voice showed its awesome power just yesterday. One of the kittens was attempting to paw open a cupboard door. After being removed from the kitchen half a dozen times, the kitten waited until Mom had settled comfortably in a chair with a good book. Then she crept back into the kitchen. The unmistakeable sound of kitten claws against wood drifted into the living room. Not wanting to get up again, Mom yelled, “I know what you’re doing and you had better stop it!”
The results were immediate. Down the hall in her bedroom, our daughter froze, thinking “But I’m just doing school work.” Joe came out of the office and poked his head around the corner with an inquiring what-have-I-done-now expression. Both kittens went scampering. And outside the open window, in the neighbor’s yard, two boys stood frozen by the rock wall that divides the yards. They carefully put down the rocks they had been removing from the wall (for what purpose we do not know) and crept away.
The Mom Voice. It’s a superpower.
When Inanimate Objects Achieve Consciousness
We’ve noticed an interesting trend in our house. Over the years the inanimate things around us have slowly taken on a life of their own. They develop personalities and even have individual quirks.
Take the older vacuum. It has been around for decades. We inherited it from Joe’s grandmother. It resides in the basement where it works sucking up cat litter, dryer lint, and the occasional spider. It is held together with duct tape and has a loud, rumbling roar. We have named this beast Attila.
Attila is the perfect name for this vacuum. He is an old warrior, scarred, loud, but still battling. He may be a little grumpy (he definitely growls when his dust bag is too full) but he gets the job done. His worst habit is that he blows dust out his, well, rear.
Now our upstairs vacuum is completely different. New, sleek, efficient, she glides through the day effortlessly. She has sensors that tell us when her dust bag is full (a bag, by the way, that doesn’t leak dust), she has a HEPA filter and several settings for rugs, bare floors, and upholstery. She is shiny, upright and beautiful. And the name of this vacuuming goddess? Athena.
The air filter in our daughter’s bedroom is known as Wheezer for the sounds he makes. We think he has worse allergies than she does. Wheezer is temperamental and grouchy. He growls at everyone except our daughter, who he seems to like. He particularly loathes the cats, and they take delight in tormenting Wheezer until his warning lights flash into the red zone and he shrieks his indignation at having to filter cat fur.
And the list goes on. We have a pickaxe named Bertha and a computer named Jafrey, after a wise-ass character in our book, Time’s Edge. Jafrey’s personality and the computer’s personality are so similar its downright eerie. And don’t get us started about the toilet in the main bath. It sighs, it groans, sometimes it even hisses. It effectively combines rudeness with martyrdom, and its editorial comments can be, shall we say, annoyingly timely. We suspect it’s suffering from job burn-out and needs to retire. We haven’t named it. We don’t want to encourage it.






It’s the question we are asked most frequently. How do two people write one book? How do we create the plot? Write the chapters? Achieve one voice? And (the most frequently asked question of all) how do a husband and wife manage to do all this without killing each other?