Nomie and Junebug, before and after.

Nomie and Junebug, before and after. The first picture was taken around June 20th, 2012. The second picture was taken on the 4th of July.

My Summer, so far… the summer of the kittens.

My Summer, so far… the summer of the kittens.

It started innocently enough—with a walk. My daughter and I took a walk one evening, and yes, in truth there was a motive behind the walk, but I certainly never expected it to wind up like it did.

First, I suppose, I should tell the back story.

For a brief, shining time, we were lucky enough to know a black tom-cat named Casper (my daughter named him, and since he was all black I thought a name associated mainly with a cartoon ghost was really cute) At any rate, Casper disappeared. His visits had grown less and less frequent, and he was in worse shape each time he arrived on the front porch to say hello. Fighting had left him bloody, scabby and scarred. I tried to “make him stay” by keeping him in the house, but he wasn’t having it. He would meow constantly until he was let out, and if that didn’t work he would spray. Usually in the bathroom, on the shower curtain, and occasionally he would use the dirty clothes hamper as the target of his displeasure. He would make himself as annoying as possible until he was set free once more.

I used to say a silent goodbye to him each time I watched him amble away down the driveway because I had a feeling that sooner or later it would be the last time I watched him go.

And then it was the last time. Casper was gone.

A week went by. I called, out on the porch first thing in the morning, last thing at night, I yelled for him but he never came. After a few weeks passed I was sure that the reason he didn’t come was because he could no longer hear me. He was gone. I still called, but not as often. I knew what I didn’t want to know. He is gone. I cried.

One evening I went outside to check on my birds (chickens, ducks, geese—we have an array here.) From the shadows beneath the weeping willow tree yellow eyes watched me. I caught a glimpse of black fur and my heart soared. Casper! But it wasn’t him. Instead I saw her.

She was too small to be Casper, and her dainty features immediately told me that she was a female. She wanted to be friendly, but couldn’t quite allow it to happen. She’d run, but then turn and meow like she wanted something. We tried feeding her, but she wasn’t really interested.

At some point, either right before or right after this, I heard about a stray cat that had a litter of kittens. The sole purpose of our walk that night was to determine if the little black female was the mother cat we had heard about.

She was. Josey was the first to spot the kittens. One disappeared into waist high weeds, but the other was too slow to escape. My daughter was holding her and I heard the words I knew were coming.

Hey, Mom. Come look at this kitten.

I could see the kitten in her hands, and we all know kittens are cute, so I walk towards them assuming that Josey is going to say Awww, it’s so cute, can we keep it…

I had the word no ready in my mouth. No. A two letter word. Easy to say. No. We can’t keep the kitten. No, we don’t need another cat—

we still have seven cats at home.

Then I saw the kitten. A long-haired calico. Her paws looked big on her little body. I wondered for a second if Casper was her daddy. She was pet shop calendar pretty… except that she was hideous. I was fairly certain she didn’t have eyes. I realized at that point why my daughter wanted me to see the kitten.

We took her home. She smelled like death. I isolated her from the other cats and put her in a big dog crate with food, water and a litter pan. She cried, but mostly she slept. I didn’t—at least not very well. I kept wondering about the kitten’s sister. The short-haired calico that had disappeared in the weeds. It took several more walks before we caught her. She was nearly in the same condition as the long-hair. She had one good eye, the other was horrendous.

I called the vet and on a sweltering afternoon we took two kittens to his office. My husband was less than thrilled. I spent money we didn’t have on kittens we didn’t need. But those kittens needed us. The first time I heard one purr was that day at the vet’s office.

So, having just said my goodbyes to Casper (also known as Cat’sPurr and Prince Caspian) I moved ahead into another chapter of life- taking care of sick kittens.

We have named them Nome and Juneau (Nomie and Junebug). I think it’s safe to say that we all pretty much love them now, and while they still need us (and several more visits to the doctor) I think we need them now too. Funny how life works out that way—you find things you can’t live without when you aren’t looking for them.

I hope you all have a happy summer.

~Melissa

I’m turning- HOW OLD??????????

I haven’t done a blog entry in forever!

I lost my father on October 24th. He passed away relatively quickly, with little time spent in the hospital, and for that I was grateful. He did not want to be there. The second time I went and sat with him he said I hope this doesn’t take too long.

It has taken a while to try to assemble into words the jumble of thoughts in my head. I still don’t know if I am ready, but today I felt like trying.

People call me more now. I probably don’t seem very appreciative of that, but I appreciate all the support I received from family and friends. But I also appreciated the nonsupport. The people who I knew knew, but didn’t say anything. After a while grief is like water, and if you don’t get out you’ll drown in it. Sometimes a well-meaning hug is the last thing you need, because you just don’t want to be reminded. Like when someone calls and says, how are you doing? That’s so much better than How are you doing since your dad died?

Um, I was doing pretty good until you brought it up. I don’t need you to remind me, I’m aware that it happened.

I am doing okay. I have good days and bad days. Little things will remind me, little things will make me cry. I worry about my mom, but I swear there are days when I think she’s tougher than me.

I miss my Daddy.

I’m 7 whole days without anti-depressants. They gave me a whole series of bad side effects. In less than two months I’ve gained almost 20 lbs. That in itself is depressing. Tomorrow I turn 45, which I could be depressed about, but why bother?

I have been married 14 years as of today. I am alive to write books and laugh with my friends. I am here for my kids (and I can hug my raccoon.) I never thought I would get this old, and now suddenly it’s not that old at all. I can play with my goats, I can watch the sun rise. I could write hundreds of pages of the good things I can, and will, still do- but I won’t bore you with all that. I’ll just end this by saying that if you keep your eyes open it isn’t hard to find things that make you happy.

So I have decided that tomorrow will be a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY! And yes, I really am turning 45 years old.

Wanting the the Luna Moth to fly...

I can’t stop thinking about a book I wrote a while ago. The Luna Moth.

When I was in my very early twenties, my first husband and I separated, and I had sort of a mental meltdown. Alcohol flowed…a lot of it. It didn’t take long for the situation to really spiral out of control.

At some point during this period in my life I just got disgusted with…well, everything. Mostly myself, I guess. I was not a good person. Looking back, I can see no redeeming qualities about the person I was then.

I had a couple of really good friends. I avoided them.

One persisted. She called me, came by. Asked me WTF I was doing.

I didn’t know- I really didn’t. I wrecked myself. Mentally, physically.

I had pills. Percocet. One night I decided I was just too tired, and I took them all.

There was never a conscious thought in my head that said; “I want to kill myself.” Never did I think that. I just wanted to sleep. To be left alone. But I was not.

I still had a friend. A friend who came that night, a friend who dragged me out, took me for a drive, and during the course of this blurry night I threw up.

The state police came in the morning, I got sent to the hospital, put in ICU for a day or so, then set to the psych ward for “evaluation.”

I believe to this day that I am alive because of a friend, because I threw up. The doctors said I had taken enough pills to quote; “kill a horse.”

I don’t have this friend anymore. Only in my memories, in my heart, in my head. I wrote a book for her, that she never got to read. It is sweet, and for my writing style; it is incredibly tame. I knew it had to be, because of the subject matter- but also because I had written it with a specific publisher in mind.

When it was finally done, I sent in a sample, and waited. I didn’t expect too long a wait, since I had books published with this publisher.

I didn’t have a long wait.

Three days, as I recall. I was so irate when I read the email that I cried. They rejected the book. Without reading the whole thing, and without explanation.

I knew the explanation, but no one had the balls to say it to me.

The heroine had cancer. She has one breast.

My thought, big fucking deal. Get over it. It fucking happens. It happens to people that you love, people that you need, and people that you miss so much that it leaves a big black hole in your heart.

The book was published, not by that publisher. By Renaissance ebooks. The Luna Moth. Among my works, it goes un-noticed. Not my typical kidnap story, no guns, no page after page of sex (though there is some…)

Just a few days ago I put it out for review. Why am I pushing it now? I don’t know. Maybe because while I was trying to get The Lion Man reviewed I kept thinking about that sweet little book that sits stagnant at the sellers.

I cannot read the book myself, I really can’t. It’s too much, too close, too much going on, right down to losing a cat to feline leukemia.

If you are a fan of my work, do me a favor and buy this book. You might end up hating it, you might think it is too syrupy sweet, too simple a story.

It is a simple story. The story is that it sucks to have someone who only sees your flaws, and when you have someone in your life who sees the real you it is a wonderful thing.

I am lucky to have that, and I guess if I really think about things, I always have had that, even when I was too messed up to notice.

Life is good. Embrace it. Live it.

Melissa

It's about time!!

I’m sorry, I hear them too. The crickets I mean. This blog is that quiet- I know. I’ve been busy. Really busy. Back to work at a job out in the “real world” along with working on a deadline for a book. Throw in the release of The Lion Man and it has kept me up working until the wee hours. It’s about time I put something else up here.

The Lion Man. Whew, I worked really hard to get this book “just right.” I hope that you read it, and I hope you enjoy it. You don’t have to like it, just enjoy it. Get lost in the story, let it entertain you for a bit. That’s why I wrote it. I could have written a typical romance, but this is fun- or at the very least; different. It is the first time in over a year that I have actively sought to have a book reviewed. It’s probably a crazy choice of book to push like that, but it’s good, and I think it shows what I can do as a writer. I have range- I can do more than write sex. I think that’s exactly what I have done with The Lion Man. Now I just have to wait…wait to see how it does, wait to see how it reviews. I am already aware not everyone will like all the subject matter or the content, BUT I hope that even those who do not will find the story engaging and entertaining. I read this review at Goodreads, it was written three days after the book came out, and I really think it is very fitting. It is by a lady named Joanna who gave it a 5/5 score. Thank you Joanna!!

“Where do I start with this? I guess by saying straight away that not everyone will like this book. It goes beyond those little icky parts that some books have, not by stepping around them, but by trudging right through. It crosses boundaries I have not seen crossed in most books I have previously read. It doesn’t glorify the behavior it contains, but Harlow doesn’t blink as she writes about things that will make you cringe in your chair. There are a few places you might want to stop reading, but you won’t, or at least you shouldn’t.
There is violence, sexual depravity, and love within the pages of this book, all wrapped up and tied, not with a bow but with a twisted piece of rusty steel-belted radial wire.
After getting that out of the way, I must say this book is a long strange trip. And it’s one that you should not miss taking. The pace is quick, it moves along with a story that is flawless, there are no plot holes, at the end you may be shaking your head- but not scratching it. It is the literary equivalent of a car accident, you can’t look away. And you know what? Don’t. If you do you might miss out on the most refreshingly different thing you have ever laid eyes on.
I loved this book, the characters, the story, the whole package. I finished it all in one sitting, mostly because I simply could not put it down. It leaves you with the impression that the human spirit is stronger than anything that could try to crush it, and I for one would like to believe that.
But- it’s not for everyone. How do you know? I guess you have to read this for yourself.”

On Oct 1^st I picked the winning cat name for the This is a Dark Ride Contest. Krieger. I like how it sounds, and the connection to The Doors was perfect. There were several honorable mentions and I have awarded all the winners their prizes. I hope they enjoy the books, the contest was just super, and I am grateful to everyone who participated. I met some great people through all the wonderful emails I received.

I am finishing up This is a Dark Ride right now, and have just started book 3 of the Breeding Stock series, so I have plenty to keep me busy throughout the fall. I hope you are all well, enjoy this beautiful season, and I will write again as soon as I have the time (and something to write about.)

Thanks for Reading

Melissa

Odd jobs, depression and rants...

Doing little odd jobs outside, getting ready for fall, planning ahead for winter. I’ve been feeling really down lately, unusually so. We cut wood, and I think of winter. What happened to August? It was here a minute ago and now it’s gone.

It’s not even fall yet, and I can’t help but feel winter looming. I used to love winter, but since my peripheral neuropathy got really bad, all I can think of is how much I am going to be hurting. Oh, I hate feeling down. Channel it into writing I tell myself. And I do. Then I worry the stories are too depressing. They are. I need to re-work some things now.

I think the medication they have me on makes me feel down too.

Depression-such a cheerful thing to write a blog about. No one reads it anyway, so I guess in the long run it doesn’t matter all that much…

Oh? You’re here? Well, let me sit up a little straighter and try to write something more upbeat-

I am looking forward to fall. The nights are cooler now, hinting that it will be here soon. My favorite season. I love the way it looks and the way it smells. Crisp. Like pumpkins and apples. Autumn here is gorgeous. Soon it will be impossible to look around and not marvel at the trees. My desk faces a big window, and I have the most spectacular view of trees, two giant, ancient oaks in particular. There are always squirrels, racing along the branches, leaping from tree to tree. I have seen them do this when the branches were covered in snow and ice, in the dead of winter, how they don’t slip and fall is beyond me.

I did see one fall once. It wasn’t in the winter, and there was no ice on the branches. In fact, it wasn’t really the squirrels’ fault at all, it just landed on a branch too skinny to support it. The branch bent and the squirrel went. He made a neat recovery to the next set of branches below him. I don’t know if he was really skilled or just lucky. Maybe a bit of both. That’s not a bad combination to have; skill and luck.

I try and find something that amazes me every day. I know that sounds silly, but it helps me focus on things, and makes me look more closely at the world around me. I used to write them down, but I don’t too much anymore. Just one thing, every day. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

It’s not easy to be amazed after a certain point in your life, so on some days you have to really look. Depending on my mood it can be something as small as a spider’s web.

It’s been harder lately.

I’ve had to give a lot of things some serious thought. I’m unhappy with the way things have been going as far as my writing. Not the books, or the writing itself, just certain circumstances around it. I feel like I am in need of serious change. I don’t want to be a diva, I don’t want my ass kissed. I’m not famous, but hell… maybe acknowledgement that I exist? No- it seems there is very little, and I don’t mean by people who have read what I’ve written, they have all been great to me. That’s all I will say about that, and probably more than I normally would but I can’t help being frustrated. It’s not fun when you aren’t taken seriously because of other people’s mistakes.

Oh, before I go- Cooper Raccoon finally has a Facebook fan page. He has 10 likers…Lol, if you’d like to LIKE him too, he’s here. http://www.facebook.com/pages/Cooper-Raccoon/253385744684206

I’m on FB too. http://www.facebook.com/melissaharlowwrites

New friends always welcome. Not everyone wants to be friends. That’s cool. One of my very best “real-life” friends won’t be my Facebook friend because she doesn’t want her mother to see my profile, since I post things about my books. I don’t have a fan page, I have a page to be friends, therefore, not every two seconds do I post things about my books. I don’t like that. I see writers who have Facebook friend pages and that is all they do is try and promote. Chill. Tell people something about yourself, your day, something other than a book promo for something that’s been out for two years. Seriously. Even better- the status update that tells us that they have 75,000 words to edit (yes, I’m exaggerating) and they’re sooooo frazzled, and then when you go to the games to play Scrabble or whatever, it shows on the side ticker that they’ve been playing Empires and Allies or Farmville for the last hour. Be honest people, we don’t work 24/7. We’re just people.

If you haven’t yet, don’t forget to check out my name the cat contest. (Like how I ranted about self-promotion and then I did it??) It’s not really a promo, I think it’s fun. I’ve been enjoying the emails I get and it seems as though the people entering have been enjoying it too.

Until next time. Find something that amazes you. :)