Guest Blogger: Author Susan Gable

The recent antics of politicians from both sides of the aisle in regards to using their opponents’ novels (FICTION!) as a way to smear them, or point accusatory fingers at a huge “moral flaw” in them, has prompted me to write this. For those who’ve missed the fun-and-games as we hit the home-stretch to the latest election, check out the links at the bottom of the page.

An Open Letter to Politicians of All Parties:

It has recently come to my attention that you all are having difficulty with the concept of fiction, so I thought I’d help you out.

Fiction is not real. Fake. You know, like some of that stuff you make up about your opponent. Like the figures you give the public when you want them to believe a certain way about a new program you’ve proposed. Fiction is also related to story-telling, a skill which I know all of you have.

Let’s say it together: Fiction is not real.

When someone pens a piece of fiction, the characters do not necessarily reflect the values and opinions of the writer. I know that’s hard to wrap your little brains around. But it’s true. Often when a writer is working, the characters do and say things that the writer never would. That’s why we call it FICTION, and once again, fiction is not real. I’m getting tired of you slinging mud at your opponents who’ve written fiction by pointing to some act (generally sexual in nature) committed by one of the characters, and labeling it as a real moral flaw in the writer.

It’s interesting that none of you have pointed to a serial killer/thriller’s author as having a warped and twisted mind.

We (fiction writers) are NOT our characters. Often our characters are not even based on a particular person. They’re made-up. Created. Fake. They have their own opinions and values, their own sets of behaviors. The things they do are also made up. (FICTION!) This is why, although Tom Clancy wrote a book about crashing a plane into Congress, he didn’t act on it. I’m sure he didn’t endorse the concept as a real behavior.

We don’t arrest people based on a story they wrote. (Yet. You all do have me worried, though. The exception to this is if you happen to be a high school writer. Kids have, unfortunately, been arrested based on nothing more than a story they wrote. This is why we really do need to enlighten you all about FICTION. )

What happens on the fiction page should stay on the page.

To recap, because I know you’re really struggling with these concepts:

Fiction is not real.

Characters in fiction do and say things that their writers never would.

We fiction writers may lie for a living, but at least we admit it. Hey, better yet, we know the difference between fake (fiction!) and real.

If you’d like to read some fiction, might I suggest you begin with 1984 and Fahrenheit 451? Oh, wait. Those books might confuse you even more.

Susan Gable, Novelist, Reader, and Fed-Up Voter
http://www.susangable.com

A PS from Diana - Please, political candidates, avoid the movie "Stranger Than Fiction," as you are bound to find it bewildering and terrifying.

Related Links:
Fred Head vs. Susan Combs (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061024/ap_on_el_st_lo/candidate_s_romance_novel ), George Allen vs. Jim Webb (http://www.cnsnews.com/news/viewstory.asp?Page=/Politics/archive/200610/POL20061027f.html ), and now the hoopla being made (again) over Lynne Cheney’s book. (http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/10/29/cheney.lynne.novel/index.html )

A "Getting To Know You" Survey

This was sent to me by a friend, so I figured I'd just share. ;)

1. What is your occupation? Writer/Wife/Mom/You Name It

2. What color are your socks right now? One is brown, one is gray. I have another pair just like them around here somewhere.

3. What are you listening to right now? Snow Patrol! Love them!

4. What was the last thing that you ate? A macadamia/white chocolate chip cookie with a chocolate fudge/chocolate chunk cookie chaser. And a Mountain Dew. The breakfast of champions.

5. Can you drive a stick shift? I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Lipstick Red.

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My Mom.

8. How old are you today? You're as old as you feel, right? Um...112.

9. Favorite drink? Bailey's Irish Creme. Starbucks peppermint mocha. Anything with massive quantities of caffeine.

10. What is your favorite sport to watch? Home decorating on HGTV. Oh yes it is!

11. Pets? Cyrus, my adorable dog who is cuter and smarter than any other dog in the world - and who coincidentally happens to be my favorite member of the family. My two naughty kitties, Goblin...the drooler surfer kitty - "Whoa, dudes, I just saw a mouse." And Ivy, the 22 lb wonder...you wonder how she can walk.

12. Favorite food? Mmmm.... chocolate.

13. What do you do to vent anger? Lock myself in my room and cuss like a sailor on shore leave.

14. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbie and her unlimited wardrobe. And since we weren't allowed to have Ken dolls (don't ask) Barbie had to date the neighbor boy's G.I. Joe.

15. What is your favorite Fall or Spring? Fall. I love the gorgeous colors and crisp snap in the air. And Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday!

16. Hugs or kisses? Well, that all depends on who is doing the hugging and/or kissing.

17. Cherry or Blueberry? What are those? Pass the chocolate.

18. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday when I was writing my current manuscript. (In the oh, this is so good way - not in the ohmigod, it sucks ditchwater way.)

19. What's on the floor of your closet? There's a floor in my closet?

20. What did you do last night? Tried to make progress on this killer deadline hanging over my head while I taste-tested the Halloween candy for quality purposes.

21. Favorite smell? Clean laundry. (And chocolate)

22. What inspires you? A cloudy rainy day outside with rolling thunder and rain drumming on the roof and a warm crackling fire inside, a cup of tea or coffee and my favorite music. Oh, and my 9,999,999 pictures of Adrian Paul.

23. What are you afraid of? Betrayal.

24. Favorite car? '57 Corvette Convertible - red with white panels. But if it's a stick, I will need to borrow a driver.

25. Favorite day(s) of the week? Monday, because everyone goes back to school and work and I get a quiet house to write in. Don't tell anybody I said that.

26. What you say most often? "Oops. Oh, well."

Five Questions

1. If I were rich:

I would have freshly laundered sheets put on my bed every night. Hire a cook. And I would fund a safe haven shelter for women & children.

2. If I could have a conversation with anyone:

I'd love to chat with Boudica, the Celtic warrior queen. Although I have a feeling she'd probably kick my wimpy arse.

3. Something I regret:

That my Nana didn't live to see me published. She was a librarian and would have been so thrilled to see my name on a book. I like to believe that she knows anyway.

4. Something that most surprises me about myself:

How much I love my dog. I was never a dog person before, but now my puppy is my favorite member of the family. *G*

5. If I could go back and do one thing differently:

I'd learn the peace of forgiving both others and myself waaay sooner.

Tell me your answers!

Grey's Anatomy - Derek or Finn?

Let's just get this out of the way right off the bat. I confess, I'm a GA Addict. I mean, there are much worse things I could be hooked on, right?

Who saw last night's episode?

Regarding the Derek/Finn sammich: Oh, yeah, baby! I'll have what Meredith is having!

But seriously, does anyone besides me find it totally ironic -- and a bit unbelievable -- that a scrawny, whiny, neurotic woman like Meredith has not one, but two, hunky guys fighting tooth and nail over her?

All right, she gives it up pretty easily. I'm sure the hunks consider that a plus. *G* I'm not sure what else about her appeals to them. Most guys -- and especially men employed in successful, stressful careers -- don't really crave highly strung, high-maintenance chicks. And our Mer is up there at the top of the maintenance list.

In real life, I have a feeling the men would be elbowing each other out of the way to beg for Izzie's attention.

Be that as it may, Meredith has a choice to make. Looking at the contracted appearances by series guests and regulars, we already know who she's gonna pick. But let's pretend we don't. Better yet, let's say we were in her position.

Who would you choose? Derek or Finn?

Derek comes with the moniker "McDreamy." Personally, I think McWishy-Washy fits him better. Granted, he arrived in Seattle hurting from the betrayal of his wife with his best friend. Under the circumstances, a one night stand with a woman he picked up in a bar isn't unusual or unreasonable. But then all of a sudden, he's declaring his love. Once he has Meredith firmly in his thrall, his ex arrives, and he breaks Mer's heart by announcing he wants to try to make his marriage work -- all the while flirting with her and casting mooning, puppy dog eyes in her direction every chance he gets.

Sheesh. And they claim women send mixed messages!

When poor Meredith begins to recover from her heartbreak and dates again, Derek calls her a slut. Um...hello...after treating me that way, he'd be carrying his balls home in a jar. If I had a scalpel in my hand, McDreamy would be singing McSoprano.

Finally, Mer meets Finn, a cutie-patootie vet with a tender heart, who treats her with care and affection...like a real man should. She starts to fall for him, and then, what do you know, Derek decides he wants her back! At this point, I'd be telling him to go suck laughing gas, but whatever. She's enthralled all over again, and Derek cheats on his wife with Meredith at the "prom."

IMHO, this is a prime example of a supposedly smart woman making a stoopid choice. She's going after the man who seems the most "exciting," but who -- in looking at his track record -- is not a likely candidate to stick with her for the long haul. He's manipulative and selfish. He's never made one single personal sacrifice to prove that he honestly cares about Meredith. He goes after what he wants, regardless of the cost to her, and to others in his life. He doesn't think about her feelings. He is always going to put himself and his own needs first.

Again, maybe it's just me, but the guy having a really great head of McHair doesn't seem like the stuff from which lasting relationships are made.

Please, Mer, I'm begging you...choose the sweet, kind, considerate vet.

Because the selfish surgeon is just a heart-breaking McHorndog.

Meet That Deadline, Or Else!

Guest Columnists - Cyrus, Ivy & Goblin

Our mom is busy writing three new books, so we're filling in for her. Today's entry is by us... Cyrus the spoiled dog and Ivy & Goblin, the adored cats. See our pictures on Mom's "About Me" page.

Cyrus's Journal

7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favorite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favorite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favorite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My favorite!
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favorite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favorite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favorite!


Ivy & Goblin's Journal:

Day 183 of our captivity.

Our captors continued to taunt us with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while we are forced to eat nasty dry cereal. The only thing that keeps us going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction we obtain from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow we may eat another house plant.

Today our attempts to kill our captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe we should try this at the top of the stairs.

In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, we once again induced ourselves to vomit on their favorite chair. We must try this on their bed.

Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what we am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cats we are. This is not working according to plan.

There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. We were placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, we could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, we overheard that our confinement was due to our powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to our advantage.

We are convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.

The bird, on the other hand, has to be an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and we are certain he reports our every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But we can wait.

It's only a matter of time.

Rejections -- "My Way"

With apologies to Sinatra.... I'm feelin' a bit inspired by questions from newbie authors about rejections today.

So, sing along with me:


Rejections, I’ve had a ton;
But then again, too many to mention (28!!)
I wrote the stories I needed to
And mailed them in with nervous tension

I lovingly penned each manuscript;
Sent each heartfelt story along the contest highway,
And in spite of clueless, inane comments,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I knew
When those rejections totally blew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I consumed chocolate and Guinness stout.
I weathered it all and finally got the call;
And did it my way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill of rejections and contest losses – a lot!
And now, my muse laughs in their faces,
And sometimes…not!

To think I persisted for years;
And may I say – five only seemed like fifty.
When I was told my hero was too bold,
I did it my way.

For what is a writer, what has she got?
If not her heart, then she has naught.
To tell the story she truly feels;
And not pander to mass appeal.
The sales record shows I disproved the ‘no’s’ -
And did it my way.