Tuesday, November 30, 2010

How Many Points In Chicken Pad

want more punch?


For appetizer here is a part of the first chapter of "Sweet the punch never kill" as Sample:

first December

(...)

(In the cooking class)

Katie opted for spaghetti bolognese, but with homemade meat sauce, stirred slowly in the pot and watched while the other cooking students. Half men, half women, the course seemed well mixed.

"The guys probably have a sexy Sicilian expected," whispered Katinkas stove neighbor, a buxom woman who tried to Saltimbocca alla romana. "My ex would never take a cooking class! And I am doing now one. "Defiantly they cut off a generous piece of butter.

PLOPP! The Bolognese sauce was on the explosion. Katie Hasty stirred the pot, turned back the heat. She gave some of their Gefell chili flakes in sauce. Shortly thereafter, she poured the pasta with the sauce bubbling.

"Do you like it?" Caro asked Terento which passed by Katinkas place, and openly tried directly from the pot. "Convincing, Signorina convincing. A little too spicy for my taste, but convincing. "

Katie ate ravenously two large pasta bowls, tested the rice another party and wondered what court should they choose a dessert than a meowing sound startled them.

you turned around.

The buxom woman who had stood beside her at the stove hopped on all fours in a circle and mewed. She swung her head back and forth screaming at miserably, threw himself against the Leg of a man who had made themselves comfortable now with his chicken breast fillet alla barbaresca. A cherry tomato plopped him on the fork, swallowed in front of the nose of the little woman who grabbed with the mouth then, the tomato, with a groan aufkeuchte and remained lying on the floor.

"Madonna," shouted Caro Terento and knelt down beside the woman. "Call a doctor, quick! She breathes no more. "

All participants were as quiet as a mouse, petrified. Then at last began to move the troops, several pulled out their cell phones simultaneously. Katie sat down to Caro Terento and felt for the pulse. "Nothing," she said after her fingers had wandered for several seconds on the neck of the buxom woman who had just taken off her show.

"Madonna", whimpered the Terento and threw his arms in the air.

Katie chose Hardos number. A doctor would not longer be able to help.

"What's wrong?" Hardo barked into the phone. He was real revision. Katie imagined how exhausted he stroked over his bald head.

"Murder in the cooking class."

"You're kidding!"

"Do not know. Send someone over. "She drank water straight from the tap at the sink. Gefell chili had what it takes.

All rights reserved.
Friederike Schmöe: Sweet the punch never kills. A furious Crime for Christmas. Meßkirch, Gmeiner, 2010. 978-3-8392-1090-1. Now in the 2nd Edition. € 8.90.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Best Homemade Jackoff Toys

reading!

impressions of the presentation of the Advent Thrillers
"Sweet the punch never kills" am 11.24.2010 in Bamberg.







Sweet has never really the punch of fun for ... to make
Thanks to everyone who helped this evening an unforgettable experience, especially the hosts, the bookstore Pretty , saxophonist Oliver Herrmann and our valued Crime audience! Bamberg-Guide also has an inspiring photo gallery ...

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Many Calories Per Day Country

you feel guilty?

Good day, this is Kea Laverde,
back from its headquarters in Shamrock. Here I can work that is undisturbed. You know me and lets me write in peace, and who does not know me, I can already three times at rest, because I can really unapproachable look.
working self at home when I write, on a project, editing and so on, I switched on the answering machine between me and the world. Indeed, it is really easy to feel guilty because you do not receives calls, mails can not read and do not flower beds watered.

Admittedly, it is very easy to feel guilty for ignoring tasks that have nothing to do with writing. Because we have learned in school and later at the university and then at work, and because we, since we are no longer children, have rarely questioned, because many have laughed at by our families, in the constantly one was from We will ... So we have learned the following: I myself, with my need to be simple to follow my preferences, to do what I love and what I can come good, always off than last. Because everything else is more important, more important, more valuable. Because - for some of the world since the beginning given reason - (!) Repairing a water line better, more important and more expensive than writing a new chapter in a love story.

you give it too, if you are the author or Ghost: You are already tapped into the debt trap because they have a customer, friend or a tea party of former girlfriend showed the cold-shoulder AB. But - how else can the work with us freelancers. The works
Laverde at home, which is there in any case. Share the diverse people and hey presto they have chosen my number and hang in my direction, stop the flow of ideas. You block me, if it is not as dramatic, at most a few minutes to get back - sigh - in the plot of my stories were sinking. If it is nasty, the whole day is ruined. Bad mood: "Why do I had to call too!" Self-accusation: "Why have I not turned the AB!" Anger: "How can I really meet my deadline?"
The energy flow is dead, from, past, because nothing is moving, you get up, you roars a coffee, milk foam, the movement that actually the finger should be sent to the buttons is misguided, and pressed filter coffee and sugar shakers.

No, no.
I've decided: I do not feel guilty. Even if Mrs Laverde senior five times on my tape speaks - I let her talk, she has spoken her stuff from the soul. When I write, the world is silent. I'm happy because I set priorities and Consistent trade. Whether troublemakers are also satisfied, their beer. For their souls delight I am not responsible. I promise only that I recall, when you entrust my electronic substitute a message.
Come on, you can not but seriously feel guilty. Then you are really to blame!

Friday, November 19, 2010

How To Make Pontoon Trailers

The restlessness of the writer

Writing is a fine motor activity. The texts, plotting, obvious that requires planning, Kopfschufterei is a great whole, a process that targeted mostly at least. Let us not only the hands and fingers that run our letter. Be it with the stylus or a keyboard. And no, we are not talking about the voice recognition programs that allow us to dictate to a computer our stories.
The motor is the combination of the author with reality. It builds a bridge of that volatile country, where the characters live in our heads and beat their battles to that continent in which we ourselves are at home: the so-called Wirklichekit. Where we stand, our body is nourished, where we - write. The fingers translate the thoughts into matter. The thoughts in them often get upset, restless, when the story begins to peel out of the darkness. The creation of works of art, the artists describe as "skinning." A process is underway, the design is unstoppable, according his timing, after his standards and laws of nature. Since can not intervene. The restlessness, the tremor in the fingers immediately before moulting must simply endure. Since neither help nor beverage soothing long walks. The birth of the story is coming up, following their own pace, sometimes days before, sometimes from one minute to the next, and woe to the author, then dabeihat no writing materials. (Side note: If a writer truly a professional, is shown by the fact that he always carries a pen and paper with you;))
My new stories, my characters get upset at first in my fingers. Something to get out. Current flows. The actuation of the fingers on the keyboard, the hand grounded on the paper. The motor provides the facts. Have traction again.
's good.
Watch your hands!

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Happens If Dog Not Deworned

Closed due to flooding

drives the flow of ideas sluggish. You are standing on the shore and look at. Can one, two pebbles jumping. The sun is warm on the water. Now and then a fish jumps. You admire the colorful dragonflies. Leave the feeder. The flow accelerated. Wind comes up. Very gently, he moves you through his hair. You're leaning back his head, blink in the sky. Since pull over a few clouds. White, cuddly. Nothing dramatic. Continue writing.
Eventually the paper in the waste book shines not so white. You take off his sunglasses. But instead of the golden evening mood that you expected in the sky, brewing there, thick, purple clouds. The sun peeks out through a few times a few holes in the clouds. Then darkness descends on the flow. You notice that it accelerates, the wind picks up, flips the pages in the waste book. Unpleasantly cool, so one day, and the water dragged branches and all sorts of stuff with it. The driftwood caught in the reeds on the bank, already formed an island of trees and branches, the middle one shoe, a first drop of rain blurs the ink, the water rises, rises, roars and surges, floods the investors. You pull one's feet, jump on, passes over the trembling wooden walkway, jump ashore, but the river rips the piece of land on which you stand, from the shore. You schlingerst through the foaming water grab, by air, the waste book is long away, the pen also, where is the top where the bottom? Panting, you ruderst with the poor, a deserted kayak by shooting, the flow keeps you in the middle of the river, no chance to come to the shore, there are rocks, the river pushes you right to it ... CUT ... Sometimes it seems
almost as if one could drown in the flood of ideas ...

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Green Tea Forehead Rash

Script excerpt: "The Living Garden"

A tank as a garden shed. Preparation of a garbage dump in Cojimar

The rurale, would the place-bound knowledge re-estimated, was delighted the gardener Suleyha in Bahía, his plot preferably in an educational center for adults and wants to transform a school garden for children. Already in December 2009, four years after breaking ground, the place meant more to him than some of his apartment building and determined as it suggests the original function. Suleyha grub sowed and plowed on a former garbage dump for industrial waste to of still a tank, built in 1946, is from the GDR. The Government a and neighbors to respect the garden, Suleyha leased the land to build a green laboratory for testing decontamination strategies.

Suleyha: "This was once a garbage dump. One place left to itself. Everything was thrown, without thinking. A very bad place because there was no end of troubles. The balance was destroyed and no longer be reconciled. Therefore, the continued comunidad (community) committed to the ecological balance and social restore balance. A very important matter, in order to separate the good from the bad, to finally eliminate the bad can. (...) Well, as we had done that, I started to plant bananas, yuca, boniato, malanga, but the ground was of such poor quality that the products produced nothing. Although they grew up, but they bore no fruit. So I said to myself: Well, I'll just sow trees. Avocado, mango, guava, custard apple 2 , well, at least 25 different types of fruit. Particularly important to the quality the floor was that I planted walnut trees and palms, exotic woods, cedar and the rain tree 3 , these are also materials from which furniture is made. I became almost crazy because I must win this earth again and again they wanted to make it habitable. I want to tell the truth: Everything works in this way - to do what is there advantage as the development of cultural, ecological agriculture, to learn from the young people and children and many adults. They change the field. And then, so I say this - they gain experience for what they forgot. For not everything needs fertilizer. Soil food are those dry leaves. This old dump is a reprocessing plant. That makes life there is always the best. "

Suleyha had comunidad with his friends the exempt from the trash problems and gave them the same time a vain-garden in which they can make use of the ripe fruit. He solved the disposal problem that had arisen from the industrial use of common land inconsistent with the strategies of the utilities that it legally because it belonged to a cooperative entitled, but through the cultivation of forgotten endemic, spiritual and medicinal plants. prepared more concerned than the household waste it first industrial wastes, such as the 35-ton armored DDR, which could not be disposed of with physical force. Therefore, he was quickly painted pink, as well as other objects that are reminiscent of the earlier use of the place. End of 2007 grew fruit trees and shrubs here, but no root tubers, because this is the quality of the soil even after 11 years of careful recovery is not good enough. Suleyha said that the quality is sufficient for tree fruits. When I asked how he knew since there may well be that the fruits are contaminated, he said, this too would have taught him his family. I learned from him in addition to the importance of individual trees for the improvement of the soil and planting to be effective against soil erosion, such as traditional knowledge is the land for the urban reality utilized. So I want to name the aid of the theory Andrea Heist ingers, more precisely, what this "knowledge" is based and from which it differs:

  • empirical knowledge does not claim to be universal, but is open to changing conditions.
  • It differs from the static notion of "tradition" or the "earth". The term "traditional" is not accurate to Heistinger, being neither a spatial nor a temporal called socio-historical context (See Heistinger 2001: 77). It is used to describe one part of plant breeding at indigenous to describe the opposite of a professional plant breeding. On the other hand, the term refers to the scientific discipline methods that are developed there for about a century were. Following this logic, says Andrea Heistinger that have been in this conceptual scheme before any plant breeding would need (ibid.). The concept of traditional plant breeding gives the impression as if there had been only plant breeding in the last century, since he is now the concept of modern culture is compared.
  • Unlike traditional instrumented term that claims to property, are legitimate and which the "flair of the good" attached to land, power and resources, different Andrea Heistinger, following Hobsbawm, between tradition and custom (Hobsbawm 1993: 2 in Heistinger ibid.). In practice familiar in style and meaning is carried further: "This allows the transformation of things in my view, in my hands. The thread of the plot and the acting is not endlessly excited by the presence in the future, but there are some very tense, intertwined, interconnected, colored, amplified, clipped and tied together again, where it's needed is - its use is meaningful "(ibid. 78).

can use this concept of usable knowledge and experience for the gardener in Havana say they have acquired their skills through their own experimentation. In order for this form of knowledge is not only contrary to the traditional concept that, because of scientific interpretation into ordinary language moved. The validity of empirical knowledge must now also against globalized "knowledge management" prove, as the recycling programs of the new policy field "Urban Waste Management Strategy" (see, Cofie / Adam-Bradford, Drechsel: 2006) provide for the gardeners who rely on the support of the state to be eligible to host a plot. About the cooperatives are the gardeners, as already mentioned, support campaigns offered. The strange thing in the programs is that they separate the environmental problems of the history and characteristics of the place of "cleaned" or newly built or to be plowed. The programs will be applicable at any time and any place. They are without locality and which are beyond the tangible world. In addition, the proponents fail to recognize the urban-waste-strategy the motivation of the gardener, building from frustration over the situation itself ambientale new relationships to nature. Thus they miss the important role of listening and understanding.
to understand that local knowledge is available, it would suffice actually listen to them and to be infected by their ingenuity: In contrast to international aid programs, the use of targeted strategies for recovery of waste and have organic remnants of plants to the center, Suleyha requires no additional "input" material or ideological Art
He wishes for the future that more schools can go there in an "outdoor classroom", his Trockenklokonstruktion already provides two separate areas for children and adults. to visit the place of training, in which the purposes of the decentralization of the responsibility of state control to the respective "community" 4 conducted, cherishes and cares for Suleyha the plants, mean to him personally and his social environment, something. This leads him not to the rates of return but the fact that the forces of the plants and the earth together and change the location so that a new balance between natural cycles and human action arises. The former policeman chooses exactly which fruits he sows. Each tree is linked to the Cuban story, the many facets he never tires of telling. When he my friend phone and showed me the fruit, he told stories, mostly from his home, the Interior came. In addition, the plants offered for him a suitable means to political to speak.

Suleyha "Mamey Santo Domingo was his old name. This is a red fruit, you eat like fruit, but only if the tree is 20 years old, it bears fruit at all. Knew that our State is not the triumph of the revolution. They had no awareness of ecological balance and our state, the need to let you imagine, clearing all Mameybäume! Previously, Cuba was the main exporter of the fruit was in the world. But was cleared to the café Catura to plant and export. You know what happened to it. " (indicated with a sweeping arm movement, so that it is over and No words worth more) .
" If the fruit tree is 60 years old, he will multiply his income still. Some religious people believe that (the cutting down, dk) has triggered a curse for Cuba. This shrub is sacred! It is one of Changó 5 . Not only to Chango, Santos and many other. He is even older than the mango! "

a The strategy " limpiar primero y después Sembrar " by Alvarez in 2000 was specifically addressed in a book.

2 cherimoya (Annona cherimola or chirimuyu Quechua), is considered a "cold fruit." In South America and Spain, it is also called custard apple or Churimoya. It is an evergreen, low branched tree or shrub that grows up to nine meters high. The fruits have a green skin, the seeds lie in the white meat.

3 The All tree "algarrobo" z ählt to the legumes. (Pithecellobium saman Lat, Leguminosae).

4 For community - see Glossary term of the present. Ulrich Bröckling, Krasmann and Lemke (Eds.) Frankfurt aM2004.

5 The Orisha Chango is one of the most powerful deities in the pantheon of Regla de Ocha or Santería. He is represented by Saint Barbara in Catholicism and in the Palo Monte by Siete Rayos. He has power over fire uA.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Adjust The Flame On My Propane Furnace

Claude-Yves

Do you know Claude-Yves?
I knew him until today not tomorrow. This morning he appeared suddenly and unexpectedly. Another of these figures which enter from the wings and seek admission. Hey, I want to take part in your new book! Give me a role, come on! Claude-Yves
then, is the head of the restaurant "La Méditerranée" - And who's not thinking of the wonderful song by Georges Moustaki. But wait! Claude-Yves - mystical enough - stamt from Canada, from Quebec, has a French passport and is a customer of Kea Laverde ghostwriter. The ghostet his autobiography, each chapter is complemented by a recipe, a very special creation by Claude-Yves himself.
Now you ask me not where I had the idea to Claude-Yves! I do not know a Claude-Yves personally, I did not have cooking in the book, certainly not a francophone, but all of a sudden ...
This is the mystery of writing and Geschichtenerfindens. Things happen. Figures creep up. Drinks are on the table, on the one moment actually (Deliberately) has no appetite. Since evaporated, Ratatouille, guaranteed with a sagebrush branch garnish - but why?
I! White! There! Not!
Really - that's the truth and nothing but the truth. Why do you torment yourself so much with the whys and Wohers, dear reader? Is this still a reflection of the school to know if the German teacher wanted what was meant by the author of this piece of broken glass, and this and this clause.
I promise I meant nothing. Claude-Yves introduced himself and I found him cute. So he makes with 6 in Keas Case. You will get to know him. Even if by that is a little more time ...

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Demask Wrapping Paper

Bethany and the coffee brewing

Bethany, a writer from Chicago, and I met on twitter, got connected and every once in a while we like to exchange some inspirational hellos and his about things like writing, creativity and inspiration.
Last summer, I commented on her blog saying:
I like the idea of brewing a story - like coffee! Because I am both, coffee- and literature-addicted, and I also know that the taste of coffee changes, depending on the time of day you brew it, of the place and even country where you do it. (May[be] it depends on the water ...) Think about Greek mokka or Turkish coffee! What I am thinking about: When I change the place, live somewhere else, will I brew another writing style?
So, what I think is: Not only the ingredients make the story! The whole context makes it a whole! Since Bethany and I discussed this idea, I was musing about the coffee metaphor over and over again. In the end, I didn't muse about coffee or writing so much; I rather considered my daily life, my routines, the seasons in my Central European country, the wheather, my occasional travelling, social networks, friends, family, demands in teaching and so on. They've for sure all got an influence on my writing. What makes it most visible is travelling. Living somewhere else means first of all that you come close to a spring of inspiration. New impressions, new people, new friends. I found out that I am a good researcher, when I am abroad, that I can easily take notes, journal or check plots and settings of a story. I also like to edit, re-edit and correct my texts. But I am not good at writing stories, books or even chapters of books, while I live somewhere away from home.

I don't know why. Maybe because the discipline we need for writing can't deal with too much distraction, and distraction is abundant, while you travel. Wouldn't it be quite stupid to lock yourself in a room for writing 8 hours a day, why you could walk around to see the marvels of a foreign country? Jet lag and an unaccostumed rhythm of meals, sleeping, meeting people, going out and coming home also make it difficult for me to write during journeys. Probably I'd need half a year somewhere else to get used to everything there and to finally start writing long stuff.

But what about the small literary genres like poetry, minimalistic prose, "calligrammes", haiku, aphorisms? Any writing is a good school for writing, that's what I tell my students, when they are reluctant to practise writing. Even some short notes on a shopping list can become a nice little art form. So I started to appreciate those writing experiences: sparkling little pieces of text, coming to me from somewhere, like a friendly joke, a "scherzo musicale", just for the fun of it, just to frolic, to please me.
I am glad that I could save some of the delight I enjoyed while travelling and take it home: materialised in a note book and - perhaps more important - as an unforgettable sensation, a memory of the person I was while I lived somewhere else in the world.

I wouldn't call it an accumulation of ideas and impacts I can refer to when I run out of inspiration. This makes it too technical, in my perspective. It is not a list. It is a piece of art, a scribbled image of myself. A source of a positive, adventurous, energetic me.

I am sitting in my home office now. The November outside doesn't raise my spirits. I can hear cars and busses running back and forth. There is such a typical sound of tires on a wet street. Somewhere in the house a neighbour slams a door. I am looking forward to sitting in front of a spitting fire tonight. Winter is coming, a time to shut oneself away. I'll brew myself a good cup of coffee, or let it be a latte macchiato with Kahlúa, and then I'll take my book from last summer out waste ... hm ... let's see ...


Chiemsee, South of Germany / / photo: FS / / all rights reserved