by Lehua Parker | Apr 4, 2014 | Adult Fiction, Book Reviews & Announcements
Set in the same world as Beatrysel, Johnny Worthen’s novelette Dr. Stuart’s Heart delves into the world of lost love, longing, and an academic approach to modern magick. Dr. Stuart is a history professor and hopeful necromancer who believes a talented graduate student’s research project may bring him his heart’s desire. It’s a quick read that will satisfy Beatrysel fans and introduce new readers to the deep, dark, occult worlds Johnny creates. Call it literary horror or a love story with a twist, it’s a great momentary escape with an icy Diet Coke and a bag of chips.
Dr. Stuart’s Heart is available through Amazon.
Connect with Johnny Worthen
Blog: http://johnnyworthen.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/JohnnyWorthenBooks
Twitter: @JohnnyWorthen
by Lehua Parker | Apr 1, 2014 | Adult Fiction, Book Reviews & Announcements
From the popularity of movies like Fatal Attraction to the TLC reality series My Strange Addiction, it’s no surprise that we’re fascinated by the extreme forms love, hate, desire, fear, and need take. Little Visible Delight is an anthology of darkly twisted obsession tales written by eleven talented novelists from the Omnium Gatherum Media stable.
Like most anthologies, the stories are varied in tone, pacing, and style. A couple of them stand out for their literary echos: A Thousand Stitches by Kate Jonez and The Point by Johnny Worthen. I particularly enjoyed these two for the thought-provoking themes that stayed with me long after I’d read them.
The one that still keeps me up all night is JP by Brent Michael Kelly. You’ll never look at people who carry little dogs everywhere the same way again.
The most difficult for me to relate to was An Unattributed Lyric, In Blood, On a Bathroom Wall by Ennis Drake. The story form is on the experimental side, and it explores the futility of trying to capture the human experience in literature. Perhaps it hits a little too close to home.
A special bonus and one of my favorite things about this analogy are the authors’ notes at end of each story that explain their inspiration and how particular themes continually reoccur—obsess them, really—as writers.
Perfect for late night reading, Little Visible Delight is sure to take the reader on paths seldom traveled. Flashlight under the covers recommended.
Little Visible Delight is published by Omnium Gatherum Media and is available in paperback and eBook from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
by Lehua Parker | Mar 30, 2014 | Mainland Living, Mana'o (Thoughts), Slice of Life
Oh, hell’s bells. I have to buy new swimwear.
When I was a kid, this meant going with Mom to Sears or JC Penney and trying on a new bikini. No big deal. Bonus if we stopped for guri-guri on the way home. In Hawaii in the 1970s, we all wore bikinis because kids didn’t grow out of them as fast as one-piece suits, and compared to the nudist colony living up the beach from us in Kihei, my sister and I looked like Amish kids. Besides, wearing bikini bottoms under dresses allowed me to yell, “Face!” to boys who chanted, “I saw London, I saw France, I saw Lehua’s underpants!” when I climbed a mango tree or swung on the monkey bars at school.
Back in the day popping a young boy’s bubble with I’m wearing a bikini! Face! was the ultimate burn. Things were simpler.
In the 1980s, I started wearing sleek one piece suits, caring more that the shoulder straps stayed in place while boogie boarding than how high the leg openings were. Remember the French-cut suits that went as high as your hip? I had legs fo’days. Looking at old photos, my ultra-conservative daughter can’t believe her grandmother let me leave the house, let alone walk on public beaches. Wop her jaws when I told her Nana bought them for me.
In the 1990s, I started wearing saggy t-shirts with the sleeves cut off over conservative one piece suits while scuba diving. Around 2000, I switched to baggy shorts and tankinis under big shirts and started playing lifeguard more than swimming myself.
It was inevitable given my new body shape (the non-gym, non-volleyball playing, post-Mom with too many cookies version) that I’d have to fight a battle between what looked good poolside and what was practical to swim in. In the water, skirts and tankinis ride up and most shorts puff out, holding more water than a sponge. Swimsuits that allow you to swim also show every lump, bulge, and chocolate brownie you ever ate. It got to the point where vanity trumped swimming. I put on flirty swim dresses with burka-like cover-ups and stayed out of the water.
It was mainly kiddie pools anyway.
But after losing 40 lbs., all my old swimwear is too big. The family is planning a week-long seashore adventure and I don’t have a thing to wear. I want to swim in the ocean again—no more froofy poolside suits for me. But dang! While the lumps and bumps are smaller, there’s no way I can wear a normal swimsuit in public and not scar little children for life.
You know you’re in trouble when you’re scouring the internet and the styles you think will work are described as perfect for the orthodox sect.
Right now, I’m planning on high-rise bike-style shorts under a dresskini top from Lands End–assuming it ships here in time. Plan B is a longer tankini top from Junonia. Plan C is a swim bra under a rash guard. All are a far cry from the sexy French-cuts I used to wear, but at least I’m back in the water.
Surf’s up!
PS: Of course, none of these photos are of me. Photos of me in swimwear? Are you crazy?
by Lehua Parker | Mar 24, 2014 | The Business of Writing
If a writer gets an idea, she’ll need an icy Diet Coke before she can sit down and write. When she goes to get a can from the fridge, she’ll notice the salad dressing next to it is expired.
If she notices the date is two months past, she’ll wonder what else is old.
If she opens the produce drawers, she’ll see wilted lettuce, wizened carrots, and squishy avocados. Looking harder, she’ll notice past its prime sour cream, yogurt, and a lack of milk and orange juice. Digging deeper, she’ll find suspicious things in containers that may or may not be alive. Disgusted, she’ll drag the trash can over and start dumping.
After filling two trash bags, she will realize that the shelves are cruddy.
If she thinks the shelves are cruddy, she will empty out the entire fridge to clean it. When she goes to get a dish rag, she will discover the towel drawer is empty. Running upstairs into the laundry room will send her into a major freak out over what her daughter has (hasn’t) done with the towels. She will fling open doors to kids’ bedrooms and bathrooms and freak out more.
Going back downstairs she will open the pantry for paper towels and hyperventilate when she sees spilled cocoa and sugar all over the floor. Calming down, she will sweep, scrub the fridge, take out the trash, and discover that Mother Hubbard’s cupboards are bare.
Hopping into the car, she’ll realize that a run to the grocery store isn’t going to cut it, so it’s down the canyon to Costco. While sixty miles from home, she’ll think of more errands to run and will stop in a luxury department store to buy make-up on sale and get distracted by all the new handbags.
Until she checks the price, it will take all her will-power to leave her favorite bag there.
Six hours later, she’ll return home, restock the fridge, and tell everybody to clean their rooms and make their own dinner from Costco roast chicken, Caesar salad mix, and sour dough bread.
Finally, she will sit down to write the awesome what comes next, stare blankly at the computer screen, research the best online price for the handbag, and write a blog post instead.
by Lehua Parker | Mar 17, 2014 | Mainland Living
The calendar says first day of Spring, but the snow flurries are flying. In defiance I’m wearing my new summer capris and a t-shirt, but in the space heater under my desk is on. The sun peeks through bare branches to shine hazily through my office window. I know in a couple of months I’ll be longing for frozen ice pops and air conditioning, but right now a little heat sounds good.
Until then I’ll shiver in my slippahs and try to soak up the weak winter rays that trickle through the slatted blinds. Staring at the computer screen, I’ll dream of the taste of saltwater in the back of my throat, the tightness of too much sun across my shoulders, and the sand-kiss hiss of shore-break as it marks the changing tides.
Maybe tomorrow the trees will bud and the snow will melt.
Maybe.
Set in the same world as Beatrysel, Johnny Worthen’s novelette Dr. Stuart’s Heart delves into the world of lost love, longing, and an academic approach to modern magick. Dr. Stuart is a history professor and hopeful necromancer who believes a talented graduate student’s research project may bring him his heart’s desire. It’s a quick read that will satisfy Beatrysel fans and introduce new readers to the deep, dark, occult worlds Johnny creates. Call it literary horror or a love story with a twist, it’s a great momentary escape with an icy Diet Coke and a bag of chips.
Connect with Johnny Worthen
