
- Self-publish fiction
- Read e-books






I'm writing, I'm writing, woo hoo!
ed to share a table with the legend of AA romance, Rochelle Alers. She had been writing for over 25 years with scores of titles under her belt and a huge fan base, so you know I was intimidated. Here I was with my table piled with my books, sign in sheet for contact info and a beautiful smile to greet my readers. Ms Alers had herself and a pen only. But the line to Ms Alers’ tables stretched as far as the eyes could see. And mines? Well I was fortunate to have one or two saunter to my side of the table occasionally.
th my pen. I made eye contact with Ms Alers’s fans hoping my charming smile would draw someone to my side of the table. I chatted on the cell phone. Then one by one, several of Ms Alers’s fans came over to my side of the table, the book cover having enticed them. Quite a few purchased my books for me to sign. Turns out, being next to a veteran was a good thing after all. People who had never heard of Jewel Amethyst were now interested in my books. I got new readers. Several have since contacted me via Facebook telling me how much they enjoyed my book.
So what’s your book signing adventure?


Earlier this week I watched the James Frey interview on The Oprah Show and found myself listening intently to Mr. Frey as he answered questions as a follow-up to his previous interview when Oprah got on him for "lying" to her and to the public years ago on her show. As we know, the fallout was from his memoir A Million Little Pieces, in which investigators discovered that pivotal elements of the book were untrue. Oprah said that her previous position when she interviewed him was how dare you, as opposed to let me hear your side, and that people saw it as a lashing, which she later agreed. She admitted to coming from her ego, and said that defending her ego was wrong. I must say I felt some compassion for Oprah, and for James Frey, as he appeared to be humble and accountable, now moving on with his life as a writer and publisher.
Though born and raised in New York, Sue Guiney has lived in London for twenty years where she writes and teaches fiction, poetry and plays. Her work has appeared in important literary journals on both sides of the Atlantic and her first book, published by Bluechrome Publishing in 2006, is the text of her poetry play, Dreams of May. Her first novel, Tangled Roots, was published in May 2008, also by Bluechrome. Her second novel, A Clash of Innocents (Sept. 2010) was chosen to be the first publication of the new imprint Ward Wood Publishing. Her first full-length poetry collection, Her Life Collected, was also published by Ward Wood. Sue’s writing and teaching have led her to Cambodia where she has developed a Creative Writing/Literacy Program for local street children. Her next novel, also set in present-day Cambodia, is due for publication in 2013. Sue is artistic director of CurvingRoad, a theatre arts charity which she founded in 2005.
It was Mothers’ Day yesterday. So to all Mothers, that include people who nurture others whether or not they gave birth to them, I wish you a belated Happy Mothers’ Day.
Osama Bin Laden is dead, shot down in a mansion, his escape money sewn into his clothes. I don’t need to see pictures to believe it; I’ve warped too many realities in Photoshop to believe anything I see in print, TV or on film.
I find it hard to rejoice. Instead of celebrating the end of Al Qaeda, I remember the legend of the Hydra, a many-headed monster who grew back two for every one cut off. Al Qaeda had already been losing ground, believers and support. Bin Laden’s death is only the epilog to that story. There will be others.
The face and nature of whatever we consider to be “the enemy” has already changed in the last ten years and we have to keep up. This isn’t a time to relax and “spike the ball.” The world is changing and what so many see as the Last Days are the growing pains of a new world, one we can only hope is more forgiving and benign than the old. Bin Laden, Hussein, Mubarak, all the dead and deposed bullies of the last century have company, others still in place and growing more desperate to hold onto their embattled borders. There will be more Bin Ladens before it is over, hate-filled men holding onto the last shreds of the old order.
I believe that we are coming to an end time, but not a biblical apocalypse. I see it as more of a spiritual purge; the masses finally connected enough worldwide to see the big picture and how they fit into it. Mankind has left a long hard puberty to enter a rocky adolescence, moody, self-centered, pissed at having to do the work it takes to survive. I would like to think we’re growing up as a species, that we‘ll survive long enough to find ways to spread the wealth of this world to all its inhabitants. Not in a socialist or communist way, systems that fell prey to the same flaw as capitalism -- the greed of those in charge. I’d like to think that one day we’ll care for the sick and aged because it’s right, not for profit. That we’ll feed the hungry, clothe the naked and shelter the homeless out of love for our fellows, not out of a desire to benefit later in an abstract afterlife, or for awards, but because we should.
In the meantime, I will keep writing metaphorical horror stories that try to scare people, in a world capable of creating such monsters as Bin Laden. Monsters that drive us to go to such lengths to stop him that they make us question our very own humanity, that change us until we feel that we can’t trust even our own eyes or leaders anymore.
It isn’t easy.
| the view from my driveway in California |
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| Bayou Coquille, Jean Lafitte Park, Louisiana |