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Location, location, location…

June 23, 2007 by in category Archives tagged as

Planes, trains, and–

–gondolas?
When you read this, I’ll be in sunny Venice, Italy, where I’ve been invited to speak at the historic La Biennale arts festival regarding my books, The Japanese Art of Sex and The Blonde Geisha (they’ve both been translated into Italian) about–you guessed it, sex! I’ll be taking lots of pix and shooting video of the festival to turn into video podcasts when I return home.

So, how do you podcast on location when you’re a one-woman crew?
Here are my Top 10 Tips for Podcasting on Location:

1. Get a digital camera with video capabilities. Most 5- to 7-megapixel point-and-shoot cameras are not made to film long videos, but they work well for short filming. One-to-three minute segments work great, but don’t worry about the length when you’re “in the moment.” Just shoot it!! You can always edit yourself hanging over the Eiffel Tower later at home.

2. A digital audio recorder is perfect to record your thoughts, observations, and interview interesting people you meet on your trip.
3. Always carry a backup battery pack for your digital camera (about $30) since many digital cameras don’t give you much warning when the charge is low; also, carry extra AA batteries for your digital audio recorder.

4. Learn how to use the “10-second delay” feature on your camera to shoot pix of yourself alone or with interesting people in the shot. Warning–do NOT leave the camera where a thief can grab it or a bystander can knock it over (you don’t want your $350 camera floating down the Nile).

5. Practice holding your camera in front of you to frame the shot so you can video yourself. It looks weird to passers-by (who often stop to try to figure out what the heck you’re doing), but if you’re podcasting solo, you want to video yourself “in action” to add the personal touch to your on-location podcast.

6. Shoot anything that looks interesting–you can always erase it (though I don’t recommend it–it may look better on your computer screen than on the small camera screen) and edit the best parts together at home.
7. Memory cards–stock up!! They’re lower in price than they’ve ever been. I use 2-Gig cards, but 1-Gig cards work okay, too. I carry post-its with me and put the “full” memory card into a snack-size plastic bag with a post-it containing short notes of what I shot with the date, place, etc..
8. No one’s face is exactly symmetrical, so know your best side. Practice shooting video of yourself with your camera to find your best side.
9. Unless you carry your own lighting (imagine getting lighting equipment through security at the airport), be aware of the light source when you’re videoing yourself. I shoot “test” footage first to check the lighting. Also, learn how to use the lighting settings on your camera.
10. Make-up isn’t just for celebs–apply neutral foundation and neutral eye shadows plus black mascara (be careful not to get that “raccoon” look) for your close-up. Outline your lips with a lip pencil or brush and use lip gloss so your mouth doesn’t “disappear” when you speak. You want the camera to capture your perfect Kodak smile!
That’s it!! I’ll be posting more info about my adventures in Italy at La Biennale arts festival when I return!

Until then, ciao, ciao!

Tune in soon for Part 5 of Confessions of a Podcast Goddess, when I’ll be talking about my adventures inVenice, Italy speaking at La Biennale arts festival.

Jina Bacarr is the author of The Blonde Geisha and coming in July 2007, Naughty Paris. Jina writes erotic adventure for Spice Books. “Get Caught in the Act!”

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CyberTalk

June 20, 2007 by in category Archives tagged as

with Gina Black

This month on CyberTalk we’re going on fieldtrips! But don’t worry, you can stay in your jammies; you don’t even need to brush your hair or pack a bag lunch; and you can bring the beverage of your choice (as long as you make it yourself).

I’ve got my tea. Is everybody ready? Mouses and trackballs set to go?

First stop: The Crusie-Mayer 2007 Online Workshop
This workshop has been going since January, never fear you can catch up whenever you want and there’s no homework! The link above takes you to a syllabus for the class, which is being given by Jennifer Crusie and her writing partner, Bob Mayer. Both of them are wonderful teachers. Whether you are a newbie or have been writing for a very long time, it’s worth checking this out. (And, yes, I did post about this once before but it’s worth a second plug.) A recent post on subplots was something I’ve needed to read for a long time.

Second stop: OCC Pro Page
Are you are an OCC member interested in becoming a Pro? The instructions for what you need to do is on that page. If you have additional questions, feel free to contact me (and yes, my contact information is also on that page). You may also wish to visit the National site for more Pro information (you will need to log in to access the page).

Third Stop: the Urban Dictionary
Are you writing a contemporary? Do you want to use slang but feel like yours is out of date? (Or do you have teenagers and find that they’re speaking another language?) Check out the urban dictionary; it’s a goldmine. One caveat: definitions are added by anyone who wants to, so you can’t trust them all. Still, it’s the most up-to-date collection of slang I’ve found on the internet. A bonus is that each day they post a word and it’s definition. Here’s a recent entry:

stripsy
The post-drunken, post-tipsy state at which the removal of clothing begins.

Brian: Jen, where’s your shirt?
Jen: I don’t know; last night I got a little stripsy…

Fourth Stop: the Visual Thesaurus
The Visual Thesaurus is one of the most amazing word-tools I’ve found on the internet. Yes, you need to purchase a subscription, but if you don’t have one, you can look up a word or two on each visit and sometimes that’s all it takes. Instead of presenting word suggestions in paragraphs as they are in most standard thesauri, the word you input connects to other words through outward radiating lines. Click on the word suggestions and it will give you a definition, and also become the center of a new visual display. Try it!

Getting tired? Okay, only one more adventure . . . once you get there you can sit back, close your eyes, and listen to . . .

Fifth Stop: Grammar Girl
These podcasts are usually under five minutes and usually well worth the time. You will have the option of subscribing through iTunes (which is what I do), listening on the page, or reading the week’s entry.

I hope you enjoyed this month’s foray!

Somehow, Gina manages to work some writing time in around her internet adventures. In addition to posting here, she blogs on The Gina Channel, Romancing the Skein, and Title Wave.

And yes, her computer screen really has burned itself into her glasses.

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Things That Make Me Go . . . Mmmruh

June 19, 2007 by in category Archives tagged as

FOCUS
by
Geralyn Ruane

Focus? Focus on what? I think I’ll try focusing on those silky moments in life that make me tingle with an awareness that something beautiful has happened. These are the moments that make me go mmmruh.

One day during the recent long weekend, I sunk into an unintentional nap. Just laid down on the bed for a sec, and drifted off near an open window. The breeze rifling through the branches outside reminded me of ocean waves lapping onto shore. And I was transported – to the windy beach where I fell asleep years ago. Nothing amazing happened – no half-naked Navy Seal washed up on shore or anything – but I recall that drowsy afternoon as the most relaxing of my life. Mmmruh . . . it was just so nice to be reminded.

Hours after my glorious nap, I was talking to a woman I know in her kitchen. Her husband came home, walked in through the kitchen door, and touched his wife’s hair at the nape of her neck in way of greeting. Mmmruh . . . the contact was so simple, so intimate! After over twenty years of marriage, he’s still touching her hair, still looking at her with a sweetness that made me blush.

Another day this same weekend, I heard the song “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles. How I loved that song when I was in high school! The song was popular just around the time when suddenly I had such a crush on this kid who’d been in all my same classes for ages. And mmmruh! I remembered that tingly sensation you can feel when out of nowhere everything in life is new, different and unspeakably wonderful.

Now, here’s what I haven’t told you about this wonderful holiday weekend: I worked four fourteen-hour days in a row and I actually fell asleep at the one party I managed to get to by 10pm. The nap I mentioned earlier? It lasted about five minutes and happened while I was waiting for my cat to get done in the litter box so I could scoop before I left for work. The happily married couple? Parents of a student – I saw them while I was reviewing geometry with a sixteen year-old and both of us wanted to be anywhere but studying on a gorgeous Memorial Day. The song I heard? In the car driving between one student who lives in Camarillo and another who lives almost 100 miles away in Diamond Bar.

But the nap was still delicious, the couple still sublime, the song still incandescent. These are the moments I want to remember about that weekend.

Shakespeare once wrote, “Nothing is good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Too often, I tend to think about the BAD stuff. And I TALK about it. To anyone. It’s as though I’m trying to one-up any competitor with a tension-riddled tale of my own. I can become intensely poetic about the fff-ing traffic, the annoyances of work, the incompetence of . . . well, the world in general. Do I think this way and talk about this stuff because I’m cranky and I need more sex? Or do I always feel so beleaguered because I think and TALK TALK TALK about pervasive ickiness? It’s a modern day chicken-egg conundrum, and nobody cares what the miserable answer is.

So from now on, I’m going to think about, focus on, and TALK ABOUT the mmmruh. Instead of bemoaning the traffic jam that made me late, I’ll wax gleeful about this week’s Hero of the Week lauded on news radio (like the local teacher who said she’d shave her head if her students raised a certain amount of money for books for the school. Her bold declaration provoked them to raise triple the stated amount, so she shaved off her beautiful mane of hair to jubilant cheers, laughter and clapping). Though I won’t forget the depressing report I watched chronicling how the US let bin Laden escape (he just walked to Pakistan, supposedly), I’ll fall asleep remembering instead the jubilant choreographer who danced his way on stage to accept his first-ever Tony. Though I sometimes feel my father has just never understood the me-ness of me, I’ll remember instead how after a week of working two jobs, he still found time on weekends to coach my basketball team, my softball team, my soccer team. No matter the season, he was always there. He still is. It’s on this that I’ll focus – and all the things that make me go mmmruh.


Geralyn Ruane’s had a crush on MacGyver since the middle school, and these days she channels all that fantasy energy by by writing romance, chick lit and women’s fiction. Last year her short story “Jane Austen Meets the New York Giants” was published in the New York Times Bestselling anthology The Right Words at the Right Time Volume 2.

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My Last First Date: The Zone

June 13, 2007 by in category Archives tagged as

By Jenny Hansen

My last first date was almost doomed before it ever got to the starting gate. “Almost” is such a stressful little word, isn’t it? I got engaged on May 4th…we’re getting married on July 2nd. And it ALMOST didn’t happen. It all began in this cheesy little bar in Newport Beach called Woody’s Wharf…

It was three years ago when I was 35 years old and fresh from a string of less-than-desirable boyfriends. I’d gotten rid of the latest one the previous June and, after a few months of post-breakup depression, thrown myself into speed dating with great zeal. I’d had first dates in every place imaginable – Starbuck’s, Duffy boats, a Barenaked Ladies concert – but none of these guys were getting anywhere near The Zone.

You know The Zone, right? It’s that really special place that surrounds your heart, without actually being inside it. The Zone is the place you giggled about with your girlfriends in junior high: ”I think he likes me! You’ve likely grown up a bit since then, and you probably don’t laugh like a hyena anymore when you start liking someone. Still, when a new man gets into The Zone, your heart still shimmies in your chest and the world around you shimmers with an extra layer of beauty.

On a great first date, Mr. Hubba zings his arrow (pardon the metaphor) somewhere into The Zone. It might be the way he smiles or the touch of his hand on the small of your back as he guides you through a crowded room. It might be the sound of his laugh, or his ability to tell a great story. I’ll bet you $1000 that every single one of the authors in this contest knows the exact moment when her future husband breached The Zone.

The night I met my husband-to-be was a like a maze of bricks, laid down by a higher power, where every pathway led to a single destination. My mother died in January 2004 and my life was submerged in a syrupy river of grief. By April, my vision was clearing and I was starting to actually see the world around me again.

I attended OCC’s April meeting and an author reception before running home to get gussied up to meet two couples I knew at a place in Newport Beach called The Quiet Woman. Their plan was to eat dinner and then bar-hop. It was my first time out since my mom had died and I changed my mind at least five times about whether or not I was going to go. I got to the restaurant at about 9:30 pm, right as the band was setting up. We danced through the first set before moving on to the next place.

If smoking were allowed indoors in California, all the smokers in Newport Beach would hang out at Woody’s Wharf. I saw several drunken boat pilots careen up to the docks out back to tie up and wander inside. The air was thick with the promise of a Saturday night singles scene. Though I was too old to believe the promise, I could still scent it in the air.

My girlfriend, Mary, and I – two blondes – were out on the dance floor together, shaking our groove thing, when this dark haired man with stunning blue eyes glided up to us.

“Can I join you ladies?” he said while he bopped in time with the music.

Mary gave me a smile soaked around the edges with vodka and said, “Sure. Why not?”

I admired the cohones on this guy – he couldn’t dance, but he had style. When the song ended, Mary bopped off to the bathroom and he and I went back to sit down at the bar where we began whole getting to know you Dance of Singles. This was helped along by Mary who sidled up a while later and joined the conversation.

“Hey! Dance floor guy! I’m Mary, by the way.” She shook his hand. “What’s your name?”

“Steve? Uh-huh. What do you do? Oh, a Computer Guy! Uh-huh. Great! Jen works in computers! Where do you live? Oh, Newport Beach…close by…Great! How old are you? Forty-four? (She gave him a suspicious stare.) Have you ever been married? Really…did you have any kids? No? Well do you want to have kids?”

(I tried to slink off right about this time but Mary trains dogs for a living and she’s got a grip like a pit bull.)

“How do you feel about pets? Oh, you’re afraid of dogs? Well, cause she has a dog, but Hoshi’s a really nice dog. She really likes men – Hoshi, not Jen…well, I mean Jen likes men too. Anyway, you guys will do great! What kind of dog? Oh, Hoshi is an Akita.”

At the end of this conversation, she gave me a thumbs up (right in front of him) and zoomed off. I’m sure she went back to her husband Mike, who loves good gossip, to share the news that “Jen-Pooh was talking to Dance-Floor Guy who stood up to the Inquisition.”

I gave Steve a pained smile and we continued talking. I was thrilled when he asked if we could exchange information. He joined us when Woody’s closed and we all piled into a car and headed over to Villa Nova, a late-night place in Newport Beach. The six of us slid into a booth where I was squished between Steve on my left and Mike on my right.

After we ordered and everyone began talking, Steve leaned in toward me and said, “I’m extremely attracted to you. Are you attracted to me?” I swear, he practically sniffed at me. I blessed the dim lighting that hid my instantaneous blush and stammered a response. Meanwhile, I felt Mike pressing closer to catch every word being said and gave him a swift elbow to the ribs.

Is there anybody more annoying than nosy married friends when you’re single?

We drove Steve home – I was again sandwiched between him and Mike – and he directed us up to the gates of a glitzy Newport apartment complex. My heart sank. I’d been to several parties here and had seen nothing but pretentious men at every single gathering.

“Why do you live here?,” I blurted out, then moaned silently. Did I actually say that out loud?

Steve didn’t even pause. “My parents are getting older and I like to live close to them.”

“Ohhhhh!” Mary and our other girlfriend sighed in unison in the front seat.

Steve got out of the car and shut the door. I turned back from watching him walk away and found Mike staring at me like something he’d stepped in at the dog park. “Why do you live HERE? You had it in the bag, and you say ‘why do you live here?’” He threw up his hands. “He is never going to call you!”

Well, it took him almost a week, but he did call and we did arrange our first date. I opened my door to him and saw him go pale when he caught sight of my 90 pound Akita. When he walked through the door to meet my dog and I took his sweaty hand, I felt my heart wobble.

I started to give my usual spiel about how my dog is shy and if he just ignored her, she’d be his best friend in about 10 minutes. Then I gave him a quick hug and turned around to find Hoshi splayed out on her back with love-at-first-sight in her eye.

Steve kneeled down to pet her belly. Just like that, he breached The Zone.

Jenny Hansen (aka Jen Crooks) is a longtime OCC member who writes the Writer’s Word column for A Slice of Orange. By day, Jen manages the sales and marketing for a national training firm. After 12 years as a corporate software trainer, it’s nice for her to be able to sit down while she works. By night, she writes women’s fiction, chick lit and short stories.

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My Last First Date: Love at first sight

June 12, 2007 by in category Archives tagged as
By Jo Graeber

I was 24 and engaged to be married on June 15 to a guy nobody … but nobody … liked. I had intestinal by-pass (a great deal like lap-band) surgery a couple of years before, having been fat all my life and no dates.

Now, all of a sudden, after losing over 100 lbs., men were coming out of the woodwork and I didn’t know what to do with them all. Frankly, it scared me. I wasn’t even used to flirting, must less a whole date. So, when I picked out this “loser,” it was apparently a bad choice that everyone could see but me. He had been my first date, ever, and we had been seeing each other for about a year.

I had one really close friend, an older woman, who said, “I’m going to find you somebody before you marry that loser!” True to her word, she set up a dinner for my “blind date” and me, but at the last minute, I chickened out. She tried again, I backed out again. I could see she was determined, and it was only a grill-out, not even a date .. just a simple dinner to meet someone new. Finally, I accepted and went to her house.
I was early, mostly because I was so nervous. I was not one to make an “entrance.” She put steaks on the grill, and I sat in her comfortable padded glider and talked to her husband while we waited on my “blind date” to arrive.
The yard was fenced and covered with greenery, so the drive-way was not very visible, but I could see the top of his head when he got out of the car and headed for the yard. All I could see was white hair from his little over six-foot stature. He was a big guy, and having been a big girl all my life (although not any more), I was very comfortable with a big guy.
He entered the yard wearing jeans, a nice shirt, and a great smile. I was very glad I was there.
Neither of us ate much dinner, but he asked me if I would like to take a ride out to the beach and maybe get a Coke. I said that would be fine. The date had started. We drove to the beach, parked and walked along the wet sand, holding hands, not saying a whole lot. Finally, he took a deep breath, and he said, “I know this is kinda early, but I just have to ask you — will you go steady?”
Wow! He was right. It WAS kinda quick, but I also heard myself saying, “Yes, I will.” And we both laughed and he kissed me lightly on the lips, and we walked back to the car.
From there, we rode around awhile and talked. I told him my current engagement status that was about to be broken; he told me of his past divorce and his two kids. He found a place to park overlooking the beach and we sat and talked until about 3 a.m. Yes, all we did was talk, and then he fumbled a little for words, but he managed to get out, “Will you marry me?”
Marry him! This was our first date, our first meeting. What’s wrong with this picture? I said, “Yes.”
Maybe it was the beach, the moon, the electricity between us, I have no clue. When I said yes, he cranked up the car, and we went back to our friends’ house. We woke them up and told them the news. They were excited and flabbergasted to say the least. They had known us for a long time, just not together. She asked us when, and we had already decided on June 2 — that was the following week! He proposed on our first date, and we were married in that yard the following week.
Did it last? Oh, yes! Two years later we had our first daughter, then four years later, twins – a girl and a boy, plus we had custody of his two boys. Our wonderful marriage lasted 13 years, until he passed away unexpectedly.
Was it love at first sight? I think it had to be. My First Last Date was 35 years ago. I’ve never remarried.

Jo has been a feature writer/puzzle creator for newspapers, puzzle publications, and online services for over 40 years. She can be reached at jograeber@aol.com.
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