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. :)

Too blonde!

Well, I’m getting a nice response to the “name the cat” contest. It’s fun seeing all the different ideas, I especially like reading the ones where people explain why that selected a particular name. I had to make a separate folder in my email to keep all the entries, and I’ve been writing back to everyone who sends in a name.

I really need to get busy on the book, This is a Dark Ride now. I’ve been distracted, but thankfully not by playing games on-line (which is something that I have wasted many hours doing) but I’ve been working on other projects.

In other news, I got my hair done yesterday, and it is very blonde. Oh, I’ve been blonde for years now, but this is ridiculous. You know that saying; You can’t be too thin, too rich, or too blonde. ?? You can most definitely be too blonde, as for the other two things- I couldn’t tell you. I will have this blonde situation straightened out as soon as I can, I figured I’d give my hair a break for a few days first. I forget about it, and then I look in the mirror and I’m like, Oh, yeah. That.

Two posts in one

August 17, 2011

Recently, I was caring for two neonate baby opossums. Sadly, they both died. They came from a litter of ten, who were found tucked inside their mother’s pouch after she was killed by a dog. I am even sadder to hear that none of the others survived either. Everyone caring for them did their best; I guess they were just too little.

Since May, aside from writing, my life revolved around the baby raccoons I was caring for. I had a bottle goat kid throughout the summer as well. It seems that they were literally just weaned from their bottles (which they were) and as I was driving to pick up the opossums I mentally groaned, thinking of the all the times the alarm on my cell would be going off waking me for feedings every four hours.

I was so burned out on mixing formula and boiling bottles for the raccoons. They could not even pee without help, and I knew I was getting into the same thing all over again with the baby opossums.

Bought formula, sterilized bottles, trotted out the trusty heating pad, which has warmed more creatures than you can possibly imagine, and I felt prepared.

A couple of nights with little sleep and I was already frazzled. The opossums were difficult to feed. A syringe didn’t work, tubing was needed. Tubing something the size of a field mouse is not an easy task.

I’d wake to the happy little song playing on my cell phone alarm and I wanted to throw it through the wall, just wishing for more sleep.

I slept in this morning because there were no opossums to feed. I feel sad today. Sleep is over-rated.

August 12,2011

Summer is whizzing by, the tomatoes in the garden are red, despite the weeds that look like they should have long ago choked them out. I should weed the garden, but I have been writing and taking care of animals, so I haven’t. I probably won’t. We’ll still have tomatoes, maybe not as many, but they will survive without my help. The peppers are doing well too, and I can’t wait to make homemade salsa. I grew cilantro especially for that purpose.

The fence around the garden keeps the goat out, even though his pen doesn’t keep him in. He knocks on the front door with his hooves, or stands at the top of the hill watching the horses. I’m positive he believes he is one. He gets really excited when he watches them run, I like to think he is imagining that one day when he’s all grown up he’ll be able to run with them. Shh, don’t tell him, everyone needs to have a dream-even a goat.

The bleeding hearts have died back and now the lilies are doing the same. I don’t see them that much, sitting at my desk staring at the computer.

It's hard for me to stay involved with current events, I don’t watch the news during the summer, preferring not to watch much television at all. I don’t live on a schedule like I do during the school year. Nothing is scheduled except for the care of whatever animals are here. I don’t think the last tiny opossum I am caring for will make it, but I will keep trying.

The Runner ducks are gorgeous, fully grown with their adult feathers. I promised to sell a few, but I think I will have to break that promise. Spring’s rescued baby raccoons are little bruisers, raring to go. Rough and tumble boys, I remember when they fit in my palm and were blind and helpless. They are tangible reminders that I have done something. I held them and fed them with syringes. They grew a little bigger and graduated to bottles. I memorized every detail of them as they ate, and I saw them grow, their eyes open, their wobbly steps. I spent hours giving special attention to the little runt, only to watch him finally stop fighting to live. I watched the other two thrive and was thankful when they finally could go to the bathroom without my assistance. Little victories…

They’ll go free very soon, and I’ll miss them.

In between feedings and life, I write. I wrote my longest book, The Lion Man, in the midst of mixing formula and the chittering of raccoons. Steven read it last night. He doesn’t usually read my books anymore, he quit after probably the 5^th. He said “Wow” when he finished it and I’m happy with that. No, forget happy, I’m thrilled!

It's been said to be happy as an adult you should remember what you loved doing when you were a child. When I was a child I wanted to be a veterinarian, or a writer. I cared about animals and I wrote. Not too far from the life I have now. I’ll never be rich, but I’m happy with my life. There are those who would give every penny they have for happiness and will look for it in places where they will never find it.

When your life makes you happy, you don’t have to look for happiness. Well, that- and you don’t really have time to either.