Transcription of a Conversation with Special Agent Beatrice Alexander, F.R.E.A.K.

By Jennifer Harlow

NOTE: A few months ago I had the privilege of interviewing Special Agent Beatrice Alexander of the F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad for an article in Government Secrets Gazette, now defunct due to budget cuts. (The NASA gang and I say thanks from the unemployment line, Mr. President!)  Now, I’m forced to go freelance. I remained in e-mail contact with Agent Alexander in the interim and at my own expense flew back to Wichita in an attempt to uncover more information for future articles (or blackmail. Leaning towards blackmail.) We met at a Starbucks, and I secretly recorded the conversation. Here it as follows:

Jennifer Harlow (JH): Hi, girl! You look…um…
Beatrice Alexander (BA): Terrible. I know. <sitting> Sorry I’m so late. I just came from a memorial service, and I’m exhausted. I’ve been…taking care of a sick friend for a few days.
JH: It never rains but it pours, huh? Who died?
BA: One of the Squad. We just got back from Dallas on an Op. It was, well  <chuckle> it’s been a tough week. A nightmare from start to finish. <More chuckling> God, I can’t believe I’m back here.
JH: Back where? Kansas?
BA: No, nothing. I just, exactly a week ago I met my brother in this very Starbucks right before the caca hit the fan.
JH: At least you got to see your brother.
BA: Yeah, no. It did not go well. I believe words like “monster” and “abomination” were uttered.
JH: Shit. Sorry.
BA: I expected it. We’re not exactly close.
JH: Still. If my brothers ever said those things to me, I’d kick them in the balls. Really I’ll find any reason to do that. Great cardio.
BA: I was tempted. Went the crying and vodka route instead.
JH: That works too. <a beat> At least you had work to take your mind off it. You said you went to Dallas? Why?
BA: Vampires. A group of them killing people. Then it got really complicated.
JH: Ooh, complications. I love complications. Do tell.
BA: I don’t know if I should…
JH: <a pause> No, I understand. Government secrets and all. Security clearances, blah blah blah. <sipping coffee> I’m sure you have tons of people you can vent these things to without them, you know, thinking you’re a few cigs short of a pack.
BA: <a pause> Okay, okay. You’re right. I need someone to talk to about this. I’m going nuts. And I know I can trust you.
JH: Of course you can! Of course. Yeah. <leaning in> So, vampires. Dallas. Give me the skinny.
BA: <looking around café for eavesdroppers> It was an undercover mission. Oliver and I had to pose as a married couple to infiltrate the vampire scene.
JH: Oh la la, a married couple with a beyond gorgeous man who has centuries of practical seduction experience. That sounds like fun. Hope you took advantage of it. And him.
BA: It wasn’t like that. <Note: she was blushing while she said this> We had a job to do. Lives at stake. <sipping drink> It didn’t help we were staying in his ex-girlfriend’s house. His stunning ex-girlfriend by the way. Mariana.
JH: Bitch! I hate her for you already.
BA: Me too. And there were all these other vamps around who kept acting like they were lions and I was a flank steak. Then things got even worse. A house exploded, I got kidnapped. Again. The vampire ruler of Dallas took a murderous interest in us. I killed over a dozen vampires in twenty-four hours. <rolling eyes> Like I said, it’s been a heck of a week.
JH: Sounds like it. But he protected you, didn’t he? Oliver?
BA: <silence> Oh, yeah. In more ways than one.
JH:  So you’re not annoyed with him anymore?
BA: No, I am <chuckling> on an almost hourly basis but…I do see him in a certain light now.
JH: Hope it’s a naked light. Often.
BA: You are so smutty minded, Jen!
JH: One of my many charms, Bea. <a pause> So, did you? Did Beatrice Do Oliver in Dallas? Get your freak on?
BA: I am not…continuing this line of discussion.
JH: Oh, you slut you, you so did. Muchos kudos, kiddo. <sipping coffee> So how is what’s his name, Will? How’s he handling your new “friends with benefits-ship” with the vampire?
BA: We are not…you really need to get your mind out of the gutter, Jen.
JH: <whining> But it’s so much fun in there. Beats the library where it normally is. <a beat> So? Spill. World War III time?
BA: Oh, Jen. It was so messed up from the start. He was away on his first vacation in years, and I couldn’t tell him I was going.  When he found out...it’s just so complicated. And it’s getting more and more complicated by the minute.
JH: Ah, the eternal dilemma: the good or bad boy. <sarcastically> Poor you. Either way, you win, Bea.
BA: Or I lose them both.
JH: Only if your God is a cruel, dramatic bitch with a multi-book deal.
BA: What?
JH: What? I didn’t say anything. <checking watch then standing up> Crap. Listen babes, I’m so sorry, I gotta motor. My layover’s almost done. Long drive back to the airport. Have to catch a flight back to Virginia. I have to interview a witch in this small town, Goodnight. Mona McGregor? Ever hear of her? She’s like the most powerful witch in America or something. I’m doing this whole Occult/Magic set of stories. Can I e-mail you if I have any background questions?
BA: Of course.
JH: You are a doll as always. Can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me. Enjoy your vampire boy-toy! Kisses!

End of transcription

INKSPOT NEWS- October 20, 2012

Time to get your F.R.E.A.K.S. on just in time for Halloween! From October 25-31st the critically acclaimed paranormal mystery Mind Over Monsters: A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation #1 will be available on Kindle, Nook, all e-reader formats for the reduced price of $1.99. Whether it be zombies, werewolves, vampires, whatever creepy creature you're in the mood for, join Special Agent Beatrice Alexander in facing them all (with a little romance, humor, and a machete named Bette thrown in for good measure.) Don't miss out on this spooktakular deal!

Inception of a Blog

by Jennifer Harlow

I have my own weekly blog Tales From the Darkside that I write. That’s four blogs a month. That’s a lot considering I spend the majority of my time alone in a room not interacting with the world at large. Not much material staring at my walls. So, where do I come up with my ideas? Here is an example.  Note: mild The Avengers spoilers and adult(ish) content. This blog has been rated PG-13. You have been warned.

Setting: A rare dinner where every Harlow member DAD, MOM, RYAN, LIAM, TREVOR, and MOI are seated around the table enjoying ribs. This conversation picks up about half-way through dinner. Let's enjoy this program, already in progress...

MOI: So, I do any of you have any suggestions for blog posts? I'm coming up empty.

TREV: You should write one about how awesome John and I are at League [of Legends]. We've been playing for like twelve hours and we've almost destroyed the turret.

MOI: Yeah, no. 

LIAM: You should write about The Avengers.

MOI: Yeah, because every other blogger and their mother hasn't already done it and probably better than I could.

LIAM: If you want more people to read it, you need to write about popular topics, not just stories about your stupid cat.

MOI: Have you ever read my blog? I barely write about the cat.

LIAM: I...

RYAN: No one reads your stupid blog. 

MOI: Gee, thanks Ry. Love you too.

MOM: I know what you should write about. You should write about the actor who played Loki. He was my favorite. He had so much...depth.

MOI: [raising an eyebrow] You do realize that that was like the fourth time you've brought up that Loki dude in the past two days. Like every time we even mention The Avengers immediately you pipe up with how cute and awesome whats-his-face is.

MOM: I do not!

DAD: Pass the rice please.

TREV: You totally do.

LIAM: Yeah, I think Mom's on a one-way train to Cougartown with Loki.

MOI: It is very "in" right now. 

MOM: I just thought he was perfect in the role is all.

RYAN: You know what you should write about, Jen. How hot Scarlett Johannson's butt was in that movie.

LIAM: Yeah!

TREV: Totally.

RYAN: I'd read it then.

DAD: Can I have the butter?

MOI: Here, Dad. [to boys] Two reasons that's not happening. 1) I'm a straight female, I barely noticed her butt. 2) I don't talk about butts. Period. I'm a lady.

LIAM: Oh, like you haven't talked about Jeremy Renner's butt on multiple occasions.

MOI: [silence; then] I haven't...recently. Shut up. No, no talk of movie star butts. 

RYAN: Scarett's butt deserves its own post at the very least.

MOI: Whatever. And I'm sorry? All you took away from her character was that she has a great butt? How about how she used her brain to get information out of men. Or how she held her own against every man and alien thrown against her.

LIAM: That stuff was kind of overshadowed by her awesome butt, sorry.

TREV: Yeah, and like you were drooling over Jeremey Renner for his mind.

MOI: I was!

LIAM: And his butt.

MOI: Shut up.

DAD: Pass the rolls, please.

MOM: I know what you should write about, Jen.

TREV: Loki's butt?

MOM: [shooting her youngest a look] You should write about Joss Whedon. How important he's been to pop culture.

MOI: I really don't know what to say that hasn't been said. The man is a pop culture God, end of story. I probably wouldn't have a career without Buffy or Firefly.

TREV: And didn't he show Nathan Fillion's butt in that one episode? Know how important that episode was to you.

MOI: Oh my God! Can we please, for the love of God, stop talking about butts!

RYAN: [standing up] Great dinner, Mom. I gotta take a massive poop now though.

LIAM: [standing too] I know, dude. I'm prairie dogging it right now.   

MOI: Jesus Christ! Can we go one dinner without poo being mentioned?

TREV: [standing] If we did, no one would recognize us. Gotta go destroy that turret.

MOM: [standing as well] You'll think of something for your blog, Jen.

MOI: [to self] Yeah, so far the topic could be The Avengers, Joss Whedon's awesomeness, Mom's trip to Cougartown, Scarlett Johannson's butt, Jeremy Renner's butt, Nathan Fillion's butt, or how at every dinner fecal matter is addressed. Great. They're gonna get cat videos tomorrow.

DAD: [standing] Or...you can write about them all.

MOI: Who'd believe this conversation ever took place?

DAD: Anyone's whose ever had dinner with us.

Which is why so few people come to supper with The Harlows. At least I got a blog out of it. Tune in next time for cat videos!

An Interview with a F.R.E.A.K.

By Jennifer Harlow

Through some of my Pentagon contacts (thanks Daddy and Uncle George W.) I was given exclusive access to the clandestine branch of the FBI known as the F.R.E.A.K.S. or Federal Response to Extra-Sensory and Kindred Supernaturals. Their newest agent, former schoolteacher and telekinetic Beatrice Alexander, agreed to meet with me under the cover of night at a coffee shop somewhere in the Midwest. (It rhymes with “Ansas”)

So, thanks for agreeing to do this.

BA: It’s okay. <rolling eyes> Gave me an excuse to get away from a pest. As long as I’m home in time for The World of Henry Orient. I love Peter Sellers.

I understand you just got back from your first case in Colorado. Killing zombies must be a far cry from finger-painting with fourth graders.

BA: Totally. Though about the same amount of biting involved.

What made you decide to make such a drastic career change?

BA: I, uh, <clears throat> almost killed my brother one night. He was saying awful things about me and I snapped. Almost blew out a vessel in his brain. I never had much control over my curs—sorry, gift, they insist we say that, and the F.R.E.A.K.S. offered me a chance to learn about it. Get that control.

Have you always been telekinetic?

BA: Ever since I was a kid. My mom’s boyfriend was about to hit her, so I sent a plate across the room flying right into his head. There were…other incidents too, but I don’t want to talk about them if you don’t mind. <a pause> I don’t really like talking about what I can do full stop. Sorry. For years only three people ever knew, my brother, Nana, and friend April. She only found out because my first and only sleepover her stuffed animals were dancing in the air. She thought it was cool.

Most people would love to have your gift.

BA: Then they’re morons. Would they love to wake up and find their bed levitating? Getting angry and almost killing someone without lifting a finger? Knowing that if you tell someone what you can do they’ll run for the hills? Being called a freak, an aberration? <scoff> No, it is nothing to love.

Did you know that there were others out there like you before you joined? Others with gifts?

BA: No. God, no. If you came to me three months ago and told me Dracula and the wolfman were alive and sharing a house, I’d have called you nuts. Like everyone else I thought they were all made up. Now I have a werewolf living across the hall and a vampire in the basement, among others.

Who else is in the Squad?

BA: There’s Carl, he touches things and knows all about their history. Uh, Andrew is a medium, Irie a pyrokinetic, and Nancy can teleport. She’s not big on privacy and locked doors. <a private smile; turning red> Then there’s Will. He’s the werewolf. Oh, and Oliver.

Was it hard joining such a tight knit group?

BA: Well, I moved around a lot as a kid, so I’m used to being the new girl, but still. Yeah. We had some growing pains, to say the least, but…we stopped the necromancer and all the zombies. Together. I think they’re warming to me. At least I hope they are. Time will tell. <face falling> Oh, crud. Not again.

When I turned to see what had gotten her so annoyed, my jaw dropped. Sauntering into the shop was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. The picture I viewed did not do him justice. I recognized him from my dossier as Oliver Montrose, another F.R.E.A.K. A vampire one. He slid into the booth right next to Beatrice but flashed me a smile that scrambled my brain. Thank God I had the tape recorder still running.

OM: Well, well, well, what do we have here? Who is your new, delectable friend here, Trixie?

BA: <shooting daggers with her eyes> None of your business. What are you doing here? Are you following me? Again? Because this is getting close to stalkerish. I’m beginning to feel like I’m in a Lifetime movie. <to me> He does this. All the time! I turn around, and there he is with that stupid grin on his face!

OM: My grin is not stupid. <to me; grinning to show fangs> Do you find my grin stupid, my dear?

BA: Oh, leave her alone! Now you’re just being childish. We’re trying to do an interview here. Go away.

OM: <cocking an eyebrow> An interview, you say? Fantastic. I do not mind answering a few questions about fair Trixie here. Perhaps your readers would be interested to know some nights she sleeps in nothing but a towel.

BA: <mouth dropping open> I do not…we have not…will you shut up? Get out of here or I’ll…

OM: What, tell Will? <to me> Our team leader has such a soft spot for Trixie here. If she asked him, he would stake me without a second thought. He almost did in Colorado. But my darling Trixie would not let him. <growing serious> She saved my life, you know. She saved us all.

BA: He’s exaggerating.

OM: No…I am not. She was magnificent. Truly.

Their eyes met, almost cooling her anger, replacing it with nervousness. She looked away.

BA: Just go away, okay. Please?

He stared at her face for a moment, almost sad to see she was serious. He rose.

OM: As you wish, my dear. See you at home.

He walked out of the café, and she shook her head.

BA: I am so sorry about that. Sometimes he’s really great and sometimes he’s…that.

It’s alright. So, how did you save his life?

BA: He’s exaggerating. He, um, the necromancer did something to him and he attacked me. Will wanted to stake him, but I wouldn’t let him. It wasn’t his fault. And as you can see he’s fine now. Relatively speaking.

Did this cause a problem with you and your team leader?

BA: Um, no, We’re fine now. Great. He’s actually, um, teaching me some more martial arts. <turning red again> Among other things. He used to be a police officer in D.C. so he knows a lot. He’s just…wonderful.

So far what do you like best about the job? Besides your team leader.

BA: Well, I really liked the whole investigation part of it. Interviewing people, finding clues, getting to the truth. I love mystery novels and now it’s like my life has become one. <sweet smile> Though I felt more like bumbling Stephanie Plum than Sherlock Holmes.

So all in all are you happy with your choice to join the F.R.E.A.K.S.? No regrets?

BA: <laughing> Of course I have regrets. What happened in Colorado was horrible. People died. I had to chop up two zombie hordes with a machete. I have literal scars from the whole ordeal. And it was my first case. But...a large part of me loved it. I’ve faced monsters and won. I can be myself here, warts and all. I need that. I never realized how much until I got here. I’m not alone anymore. That…makes it worth it.

Her cell phone rang. As she listened to the other end, she grew grave before standing up.

BA: I’m so sorry. There’s a golem on the loose in New Jersey, I have to go. Nice meeting you.

She ran out the door off to face another monster. I for one feel safer knowing she’s out there.

Act-iiiiing!

by Jennifer Harlow

One of the most common questions as an author I'm asked, like every darn time, is what advice I would give to aspiring writers. There's the old standbys, "Read A LOT", "Write, write, write," and "Don't wear white shoes after Labor Day." They work! Especially that last one. But one thing that I don't often hear from other authors that really helped me, was take an acting class. Or six years of them like I did.

What? you may be asking. You, the gal who learned to sneeze silently so people wouldn't look at her for a split second, who goes out of her way to blend in so people leave her alone was an actor? Yep-a-roonie. From seventh grade through senior year I was always in drama club or class. I acted in two school plays, a friend's music video, a local PSA, and was even the VP of the club. I was no Meryl Streep (though I can do a Southern, Long Island, Valley Girl, Minnesota “Fargo”, and English accent on cue, not that I'm bragging) (Okay, I so am), but people told me I was pretty darn good. It was just fun. I got to put on a persona and pretend I was someone other than me for awhile. When high school ended, and I moved from SoCal to NoVa, my acting career ended as well. In an official capacity anyway.

What I especially loved about acting was getting lost in being another person. Thinking new thoughts, safely experiencing danger or love without the consequences. The skills I learned on stage translated to when I was writing. When I sit down with pen and paper I have to transform into the person whose story I'm telling, feel what they're feeling at the time so I can put into words that sensation. I have to be that person as if their soul were taking over my body, using my own emotions and memories just like I did onstage. Method acting without the performing, at least sometimes. Once or twice I have been looked at sideways in the library as I was mimicking facial expressions my characters would have. In those instances I'm so lost in my own world this one and Jennifer Harlow have vanished.

Besides the Method, Improv also helped hone my writing skills. I was never the best at it, I always felt like an idiot up there with no props or sets pretending to make a cake or whatever silly exercise my teachers had us do. But in the end me acting a fool helped me write, especially dialogue. When you're across from another actor with my script and minimal props and have to think on your feet while being someone else. You have to speak as them with no rehearsal and what you say has to be both entertaining and topical. While I'm writing I'm like a one woman improv troupe playing out all the other characters. Those sessions in class helped strengthen my wit sword so by senior year I had a witty comeback the moment the other person stopped talking. My sharp tongue is my greatest weapon, and from the letters I've received my greatest writing asset.

So to all you aspiring writers out there, I recommend you take an acting class or two. Not only are they a barrel of monkeys but they'll help you with dialogue and characterization. Acting!

P.S.-I just signed another deal with Midnight Ink! I've been wanting to tell y'all for months, but had to wait for contract negotiations to finish. The books will be stand alone spin-offs of the FREAKS, who will make a cameo in each, and the characters in those will make cameos in each others and the FREAKS books. They're sort of friends of the FREAKS, supplemental to the original series. The first, What's A Witch to Do? will be out 3/13.

Fun With Guns

by Jennifer Harlow

"Write what you know" is practical advice for writers. Writing can be a bit like method acting, you pull emotions and experiences from within yourself and put them on the page. This is hard for us mystery/horror writers. Most of us, I hope, have never known someone who was murdered or killed someone ourselves.(I especially hope it's true about that last one.) We want to get close to that edge but not go all the way. This is where research comes in. There are certain things that every writer of mystery or crime novels should know. A little about forensics, the law, police investigations, how to kill someone and what the body does when you do, and what it feels like to shoot a gun. The first four can be accomplished through research, but the last really should be done in real life.

Really, because it's really f%$#@^g fun.

Though I grew up with three brothers and a revolving door of brothers friends living with us, I always ended up being the one to do guy things with my dad. I was the one who tossed the ball around with him in the backyard. I was the one who went fishing with him. And I was the one who he invited to go shooting with him. I had a little experience with shooting as when I was a child of five I fired my first rifle. I just remember a huge bang, pain in my shoulder, and my father, who was behind me, comforting me afterwards. It would be thirteen years before I'd pick up a gun again.

I grew up around guns. Though we lived in the suburbs my dad loved collecting them. Pistols, rifles, even an AK before they became illegal. They were always under lock and key but on occasion he'd pull one out to clean it. They scared me. They could kill people. But as I got older and started to read mystery novels I became more and more fascinated with them. Could I hit the target? What did it feel like to hold a death machine in my hand? When my dad bought my brother a BB gun he quickly got bored with it, but I'd spend hours in the backyard hitting cans on the fence. At eighteen I felt I was ready to graduate to the real thing.

I was nervous when I walked into the shooting range. I was afraid I'd shatter my ear drum. I was afraid it'd hurt my arms. Mostly I was afraid I'd make an ass of myself. And I did. Because no matter how many guns my dad had, he had never shot a one of them since that time I was a kid. But I didn't know that at the time. (More on that later.) I shot a Glock 9mm at first. It was heavy in my hands, heavier than I thought it would be. And when it came time to pull the trigger I was in for a shock. The force was hard, like someone shoving me back. Even with the mufflers the sound made me wince. But...I could feel the power in my hands. And I hit the target seven out of ten times! I left that range feeling like hot shit. Dad and I went twice more, and I went once with my brother, but it was an expensive hobby and I got really busy. I didn't pick up a gun for seven years. Then I moved to California.

My family was worried about me living alone across the country, though I had two roommates, so they insisted I get a gun. A month before I moved Dad and I walked into a gun store, and about two hours later I walked out with a .38 Smith & Wesson revolver (Virginia has very lax gun regulations, not sure that's a good thing.) I put it away and mostly forgot about it until things got nuts in CA. It was a tough time, and working out and screaming into my pillow three times a day just wasn't cutting it anymore. Though I was nervous to walk into a shooting range alone I did it anyway. There I was, firing away, when an elderly man saddled up beside me. At first I thought he was a freak, but then he told me I was doing everything wrong. My stance, my breathing, how I pulled the trigger was totally wrong. (Thanks, Dad.) Here is the wisdom he imparted:

1. Feet shoulder length apart and flat.

2. Use tea cup grip-one hand on base of handle and other around it

3. Lock your elbows

4. Don't put your finger on the trigger until the last moment

5. Keep both your eyes open

6. As you're about to fire take a deep breath, letting it out as you squeeze, not pull the trigger

7. Rinse and repeat

By doing this, I hit the target 10 out of 10 times. So thank you anonymous gun enthusiast. I now know how to kill someone more effectively.

Guns should be considered a tool. Like a chainsaw you need to read the instructions and practice before you use it. It's a good skill to have. And it does make you feel like a badass. I just pray none of us ever really need to know how to use this particular tool.

Happy League of Women Voter's Day*

*Brownie point for those of you who get the reference

by Jennifer Harlow

When I was informed I was the person to post on this blog on Valentine’s Day I was a bit flummoxed. I mean, I’m the only one of our posters who has never been married or been in a long term relationship. I am one of the least sentimental, romantic women on the planet. I'm a fighter, not a lover. I've cried at exactly two movies in my lifetime. I'd much rather watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre than The Notebook, unless I want to fall asleep from boredom or see how many times I can roll my eyes in the space of two hours. When I read Romeo and Juliet I just wanted to smack the two teens upside their heads for being so stupid. I mean, hello! They were fourteen! So I was a bit wary about writing about romance, especially on Valentine's Day, as I am perpetually single and through feminism classes know that Valentine's day is just a holiday sprung from corporate greed and the only real reason all us female singletons feel bad about VD is the not-so-subtle brainwashing of females that we need a man to complete us and make our life worthwhile. (Thank you Disney).

I started on a post to reflect this, but since my last one about the West Memphis 3 was kind of aggressive and a downer I decided to embrace this “holiday” and do something upbeat(ish). So today I will pour some antifreeze in my veins to combat the ice and write about the romantic influences in my writing. Because I do believe in love, and do enjoy writing about it (as long as I get to kill a few things along the way.)

Here they are, in no particular order:

1. Titanic: This was one of the aforementioned movies that made me cry to this day (the other being Apollo 13 for some unknown reason.) The first time I saw it when my parents came to pick me up at the theater I was sobbing so hard they thought I'd been assaulted. It took a couple minutes for me to calm down before I could tell them what really happened. That I'd just seen the most touching love story ever. Not only is it a thrilling movie, the love story between Jack and Rose is wonderful. They shouldn't be together but find one another. They sacrifice for this love, him his life for her. And that last scene, when old Rose is on the boat, dies, then is reunited with Jack on the Titanic with everyone still makes me verklempt. Best epic love story ever.

2. Charlotte Bronte: Not her books, though Jane Eyre is a pretty decent love story especially considering something like it had never been done before. No Bronte's life is something that no writer could ever have come up with. Cliff's Notes version. A plain girl, she was born to a poor clergyman. Her mother and two older sisters died, leaving her the eldest girl. She had an isolated childhood with only her remaining three siblings and imagination to keep her company. As she got older she had to go to school to learn to be a teacher and she fell in love with her married teacher. He rebuffed her and she returned to the moors. Then she wrote a book, and it was a sensation. Of course within a year of it coming out all three of her siblings died, leaving her alone with her hard father. Then, out of the blue, her father's curate tells her he's been in love with her for years and wants to marry her. Her father goes ballistic, and though she's in her late 30s tells her to refuse. Curate then falls apart all over town, performing grand romantic gestures. She eventually gives in, and realizes on her honeymoon she's fallen in love with her husband. They're not even married a year when she dies of complications from her pregnancy. You can't make this stuff up.

3. Bet Me by Jennifer Crusie: This is one of my favorite books ever. I laughed, I got misty, I stayed up all night reading it. It's about two un-perfect people who try to stay away from each other but fate keeps throwing them together. It's how I wish love could be. Just read it.

4. Ralph Fiennes: Yes, I heart Voldemort. While all the other girls had Johnathan Taylor Thomas or Brad Pitt posters, I had Mr. Fiennes. From age 12 to 20 he was the lead of all my insomnia fueled imagination sessions. He was my romantic hero, and from The English Patient to Strange Days (I still melt in that final scene when he scoops up Angela Bassett, stares into her eyes, and kisses her) he gave me a lot to work with. I even decided to write my first book after seeing one of his movies, Red Dragon (it hasn't been published yet). He's still my favorite actor.

5. My grandparents and parents: Once upon a time there was a 19 year old girl living in Nottingham, England who attended an Air Force dance with her mate. There she met a dashing plane mechanic from New Jersey. They danced the night away, had two more dates, then she agreed to move to America with him. They are celebrating their 56th wedding anniversary this year. On the other side of the pond Jim and Ginny were introduced through friends. They married, had two sons, divorced, then ten years later realized they still loved each other and re-married. Right now he has Alzheimer's and she's taking care of him. From those two unions came Mark and Susan. They met on a blind date, dated for two years, then married 30 years ago. They've survived ten moves to four states, cancer scares, a sick possibly dying young son, raising four children, and having the snarky me as a daughter. This is real love. It's all about mutual respect. Loyalty. Compromise. Being equal partners. Theirs are true love stories.

What about you? What is your definition of romance and love? What movies/books/songs make you feel the love?

So anyway, Happy League of Women Voter Day AKA Valentine's Day! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a box of chocolates I bought for myself and Leatherface.

Happy Valentine’s Day! =P XXXOOO

The Lost Boys

by Jennifer Harlow

Since we're all a fan of mysteries and crime here, I wanted to

share the biggest, most horrifying true crime story in recent history. Here is a truly true, dark crime story. Once upon a time, in our terrible times...

In 1994 in West Memphis, Arkansas Chris Byers, Michael Moore, and Stevie Branch, three eight-year-old boys vanished one evening from their neighborhood. The next day after an exhaustive search the boys were found hog-tied naked, beaten, and in one case missing genitals along a creek bank in the Robin Hood hills wooded area. Needless to say the community and country were shocked and upset by this. The case received worldwide attention, especially after rumors of Satanic cults spread. There was precious little physical evidence at the scene, and with the intense pressure on the police to solve it, the police latched onto the cult motive to explain this senseless crime. They zeroed in on local eighteen-year-old troublemaker Damien Echols, known for listening to heavy metal music, wearing black, and having an interest in the occult. The police dragged in seventeen-year-old Jesse Misskelley Jr. for a twelve hour interrogation where he implicated both Echols and sixteen-year-old Jason Baldwin. The boys were arrested. Cue the relief of a nation.

It should have ended there. They had a confession, an apparent motive, even what they thought was the murder weapon found near Baldwin's home. The jury convicted all the teens, Baldwin and Misskelley got life and the apparent ringleader Echols death. The case should have been forgotten, except that a documentary crew had been following the case from the very beginning, getting interviews with both victims families, police, and the accused. Through their movie Paradise Lost, airing on HBO, the country had a front seat to an obvious miscarriage of justice that robbed not only three little boys of rightful justice but three other boys of twenty years of their lives. A rightful uproar began.

I believe in our justice system. I obviously write about officers of the law, and even seriously considered becoming one, but know that the system isn't perfect as it is run by humans. But watching the documentaries, and doing a little research of my own to fill in some blanks, it pressed my nose to just how imperfect it can be when you add intense pressure, mass hysteria, media bias, and just plain incompetence. These boys were convicted before they even went to trial, which never should have happened had the police done their jobs instead of going for the easy answer.

They made several mistakes in this case, and it was not the first time. At the time of the murders the West Memphis Police were under investigation from the state for theft so they refused help. The crime scene was not handled well either. The bodies were not removed in a timely manner for proper forensic examination. The scene was trampled on and the creek wasn't drained in a timely manner either to retrieve more evidence like the boys clothes. Footprints were not taken before a million people walked through it. And the possibility that the boys didn't die at the scene was never discussed though there was no blood anywhere at the creek. The boys neighborhoods were never canvassed, which would have led to a witness who later stepped forward and said she saw the boys with Branch's step-father, the apparent last person to see they alive. He wasn't even questioned in connection to the crime or looked at. (He has since become the prime suspect as his DNA was found in the bindings of one of the boys, was the last to see them alive, fits the FBI profile done of the murderer, and had a very violent history. Plus everyone knows 9 times out of 10 a person is killed by someone close to them. Guess the WMPD missed that day in class). And the coroner wasn't much better. He put in his report that the wounds on the boys came from a knife and that was what was used to emasculate one of the boys. It has now been proven that those wounds were done postmortem by animals. It was a clusterf**k of epic proportions.

The only real evidence was the confession, which was keeping with the quality of the rest of the investigation. Misskelley has a low IQ, this has been proven, as has the fact that those with lower IQs are known to be more susceptible to coercion and false confessions. There have been studies on this (see Dixon-False Confessions). But putting that aside this was a a boy of 17, grilled for twelve hours by men who needed to resolve the case. When he did confess, he got all the details wrong, like what time the boys died (when all the teens had alibis), and what the crime scene looked like. On the tape (of which 11 hours prior to the confession is "missing") you can hear the police leading Misskelley to the correct answers eventually. Any detective worth their salt would realize the kid knew nothing but pressed on anyway. This was the only real evidence of their guilt. The alleged knife was never directly tied to any of the teens, there was no physical evidence they were ever at the scene or even knew the boys, and though there were witnesses who said Echols boasted he committed the murders (who later recanted),they admitted they only heard part of the conversation. But what really pushed the case over the edge was the mass hysteria about cults.

In the early 90s Satanic cults were all the rage. In therapy sessions across the country people were unrepressing memories of their loved ones raping and ripping out their unborn babies to sacrifice to Satan. The media ate it up, as they often do with the sensational. Apparently in every town there was a cult worshiping Satan, and West Memphis was no different. The rumors had been swirling for months, and one name was always attached: Damien Echols. He loved wearing black, listening to heavy metal music, drawing pentagrams, and acting violent. The cuts on the bodies and gelding of Byers was "proof" this crime had Satanic overtones. (Baldwin just had the misfortune of being Echols best friend. Guilt by association.) And at the trial a "doctor" spoke about these cults. I use quotes because he got his degree from an un-accredited, mail order college without taking a single class for this doctorate. (The same judge who let this "expert" testify also turned down every one of the subsequent appeals from the West Memphis Three. I am never going to Arkansas. Ever.) With time, and the media feeding us new hysteria after hysteria like pedophiles and Anthrax in all our mail, this Satanism uprising was later disproven. Several police agencies sent the FBI cases they thought had Satanic overtones and not a one was proven to have said overtones. And those repressed memories have also been proven to for the most part to have been kind of implanted during hypnosis sessions by overzealous therapists. (A lot of that going around.) But the same media machine that got them convicted also sort of saved them in the end.

Paradise Lost came out in 1996, two years after the teens were convicted. (Part 2 came out 2000, Part 3 2012). It created an uproar of support for the teens. Organizations to gather money for their defenses and expert witnesses popped up all over the place and celebrities like Eddie Vedder and Johnny Depp helped spread word of this miscarriage of justice. The DNA was found and tested, the animal aspect was uncovered, and even proof that the foreman of the jury who convicted Echols and Baldwin introduced evidence he learned from outside sources not in the trial (Misskelley's confession wasn't admissible in the Echols/Baldwin trial as he refused to testify against them)which was the only real reason the jury voted to convict. None of this would have happened if not for the movies, everyone involved said so. So maybe the media can be used for something other than making me feel bad about my body so I'll buy their products and freaking us out about stupid things like bird flu so we don't pay attention to the raping of our country from large financial institutions. (Climbing off my soapbox now.)

After the DNA evidence against Terry Hobbs was uncovered (Stevie Branch's step-father) in 2010 the WM3 lawyers went about getting another appeal with the original trial judge, and for the millionth time he refused the appeal so the lawyers went to the State Courts. They overturned the judge's veto of that specific appeal and granted the defense an evidentiary hearing for 12/11, which could finally result in a new trial for the WM3. Coincidentally? (yeah, right) the trial judge went onto the State Senate and a new judge was appointed to the hearing and out of nowhere a surprise hearing was ordered. The men were offered to take an Alford plea, where they still proclaim their innocence but plead guilty so under the eyes of the law they're still murderers but get out of prison. They also cannot sue the state of Arkansas. But August 19, 2011, after eighteen years in prison, the men walked out free men. People speculate, and I agree, that the reason for this was that the DNA evidence would pave the way for a new trial in which none would be convicted again and then could sue the state for millions. (Since they are under the law guilty the Son of Sam law, in which a convicted murderer cannot profit from their crime, still applies so they can't accept money for movie deals, etc.) But to be free they took the deal, as any of us would. The men still do have the chance through more appeals to get the conviction overturned and get another trial, which is what all three want (and deserve.)

So, why you may ask, did Ms Jennifer Harlow just spend two hours writing this post besides her being an obvious true crime buff? Why is this so interesting to her? Three reasons. Since I moved around a lot as a child I was always the outsider. No one ever really picked on me, but I also wasn't included in a lot of activities. My friends and I in high school called ourselves "ghosts," which actually I've come to see the advantage of. (People leave you alone so you can do whatever you want. Freedom. More on that soon.) But I also had friends who were considered outsiders. I went to high school during the Columbine era, which was quite similar to the Satanic era in terms of who was considered potentially dangerous. If you wore all black or an overcoat you were under suspicion. That's what happened with Echols especially. You were different, therefore something was wrong with you. I've never felt like I fit in really with people, so I can relate.

Reason two for my interest. Someone once asked me what my life's philosophy is. I have two basic tenants that I use to guide my life: freedom and fairness. I give people their freedom to do whatever they want as long as it doesn't negatively impact other people. And fairness, where the same rules should apply for everyone equally especially under the law (which is why I'm big on gay rights and a feminist). This case hits on both. These boys were denied their freedom not only of expression (being a Goth and enjoying heavy metal music) but actual freedom. And it wasn't fair these teens were targeted for being different, for liking what the masses deemed odd or not mainstream. But life in nowhere near fair. I just try to do my best to turn that tide in small ways.

And the final, most important reason for this is justice. Forgetting the WM3 for a second, what about those three little boys? If it wasn't the WM3, then the real killer is still out there. As far as the law is concerned the case is closed. There's no reason to re-open it. Until the WM3 gets a new trial and are acquitted nothing will be done. Which is why they need this new trial, to not only be vindicated and clear their names but to find the real killer. (To donate to the defense fund please visit www.wm3.org as all proceeds will go to this goal.) Then and only then will justice be done.

I realize this post is biased. There are still some out there who believe the WM3 are guilty, and you are entitled to that opinion (see? I do try to put my money where my mouth is). I just ask those of you who do to do what I did and what you should always do. Examine all the evidence before you in an unbiased mind before coming to conclusions. Maybe that guy at your school who dresses in all black isn't a freak, he likes poetry and art films. Maybe women who aren't a size 2 aren't lazy and ugly, they're genetically predisposed to having curves and are still worthwhile. Maybe you shouldn't listen to the talking heads about politics and research the issues and candidates for yourself before getting into that voting box. In other words, THINK FOR YOURSELF. Use empathy to put yourself in someone else's shoes before you shun or wreck their lives. If people had in the case of the WM3, then maybe this miscarriage of justice would never have happened. Three teens wouldn't have lost 18 years of their lives. I just hope that justice prevails in the end, but I doubt it. That isn't the world we live in sadly. Fairness just happens in fairy stories.

And nobody lived happily ever after... The End.

Defamation of Character

At Christmas dinner this year, the entire family plus some of my brother's friends were around the table just chatting. Conversation turned to me and my book. My oldest youngest brother Ryan, who like all my brothers has not read Mind Over Monsters, jokingly said he was going to read it just so he could see what character I made him so he could sue me for defamation of character when I start making my millions. (If only.) Not missing a beat, I said, "But darling, you're not in it. None of you are." He seemed put off by this. All of those who hadn't read it seemed to feel the same. I just kept on eating.

One myth about writers is that we use our own lives and the people in them for material. In part this is true, but for me not to a huge extent. Sadly I don't run around every day with hot guys saving people's lives with a machete. (Only every other Sunday.) No, most of my life is spent in libraries alone writing, and the majority of my friends and family are equally as dull as I am. Us Harlow's are a lazy bunch who would much rather spend New Year's Eve watching TV together and drinking Absinthe then passing out before the ball even drops. (I still have a hangover.) The closest thing to a real person from my life I used was my best friend Shirley for Bea's best friend April, who is of Hispanic and a stylist. (Though when I wrote the book Shirley wasn't even in beauty school but has since graduated. Am I psychic? I hope not.) So no, I don't really use real people in my life as templates, but I do use real fake people. "Huh" you're asking yourself. Let me explain.

I have a very strange writing process to say the least. Since I was a child I've had insomnia. It usually takes me two hours to fall asleep every night, so in an attempt to stay sane I started creating stories in my mind that play like a movie. Movies need actors. So I cast my movie with actors I like at the time. So yes, Will, Oliver, Bea, even Andrew are at least in part based on real people, or at least the characters they play in movies or shows that captured my interest. Basically I ask myself if this was a real movie who would I want to play X? Who best embodies X? Or really I ask myself, in my fantasy world, who would I want to flirt with/kill/shag tonight? And then once I cast it, I ask myself what about that actor do I like about them or the character they play that would translate into my characters? So though my characters are based in part on real people, up to this point I have not met said people, so I only have my construct of them so they're real but not real. An avatar of the actor waiting to be filled with what I want/need for the character, which let's face it is what an actor's job is. It's my fantasy, so I use my fantasy people.

So I do not see any lawsuits from friends and family in my future. And should my stuff ever be turned into a movie (God willing) I have the cast list ready. What about you? Do you use your friends and family as inspiration in your writing? For those of you who read Mind Over Monsters, can you guess who Bea, Will, and Oliver are? I'll give you a hint: Bea is a TV doctor in Seattle, Will is a Geek God, and Oliver is gonna look great in tights next year. Speculate away.

Til next time.

www.jenniferharlowbooks.com

Werewolves vs. Vampires

In this corner, fighting for the ultimate modern female dream lover, coming in at 180 pasty, bloodsucking pounds we have…The Vampire! [applause] And in the opposite corner, coming in at 200 snarling, hairy pounds is…The Werewolf! [applause] Who will win the hearts and libidos of millions of women? Only one way to find out. LET’S GET READY TO RUUUUUUMMMBBBLLLLEEE!

“I don’t get it.” This sentence has been uttered from quite a few of my male friends in recent years. Their wives, sisters, even daughters have all fallen under the spell of these mythical monsters, this writer included, and they can’t understand why. It is a decent question. In the past five or so years the Scoundrel Duke or Highlander have been replaced as women’s ideal romantic hero by a walking dead man and/or bi-polar man-dog. (Their words, not mine.) What is it about these creatures that we ladies find so sexy? And is there a place for both in our hearts? Can you be both Team Edward and Team Jacob? Let’s explore.

I’ve always loved monsters. I’ve seen so many horror movies and read so many books since childhood I couldn’t stop myself from writing a few. (Mind Over Monsters, out now!) In my book, the main character Beatrice Alexander finds herself caught between these two creatures as they both vie for her attention. My werewolf, Will, is shy, gruff, hates what he is, but is still responsible and a capable team leader. My vampire Oliver is playful, roguish, and though 500 years old suffers from a massive case of Peter Pan Syndrome. One is the kind you bring home to Mama, and the other you put behind you in your promiscuous twenties. Yet both hold equal room in Bea’s heart (as they do in their creator’s). Before I started writing I made a conscious decision to include these two monsters into my menagerie because I couldn’t chose which I, and in turn my readers, would have more fun falling in love with. Both spoke to different parts of what I want in a fantasy man (besides one who could take out the trash without being asked, but I can only fly so far from reality). But what are those parts?

Vampires weren’t always suave Counts or sparkly teenage heartthrobs. In folklore they were more akin to the zombie: mindless, flesh eating, decomposing. Even Bram Stoker’s Dracula was more ghoul than sex machine. It wasn’t until the story “The Vampyre” in the early 1800s that the sexy vampire came to life. This “vampyre” was based on Lord Byron, the bi-sexual poet who slept with anything that moved (including his own sister), leaving destruction in his randy wake. Women were driven mad by him, and their standing in society was lost. It wasn’t until Bela Lugosi that the yummy vampire reached the zeitgeist and really never turned back. But through all its incarnations a few things have remained constant: they’re dead, and they eat us. So why would this be appealing to us ladies? It’s akin to necrophilia with a leech. The answer is because they’re dangerous. They play to our desire to change a man. That we alone can save him from his evil ways. That though he’s been alive for centuries, we’re the only woman who he’s loved because we’re unique and spectacular. He’s the Scoundrel Duke but with more magic and bite.

The werewolf is the same in most respects. Their legend hasn’t changed much through the ages: a man is cursed with this ailment that turns them into a savage beast at least once a month. In modern times they just have better abs. They’re a dark prince under a curse, and once again our love is the only thing that can tame their savage beast and free them from their turmoil. We can save him. And even still he’s manly, strong, in touch with his animal side, yet loyal to the woman he chooses as his mate. He’ll take care of you come what may. Who wouldn’t like that?

These creatures have a lot in common, but also seem to be polar opposites, always in opposition (at least in my books). Why can’t they get along? A vampire has no life, yet the werewolf has so much life he can’t seem to contain it in one form. The vampire always seems to have boundless charm and charisma, blending in with humans for survival, but the werewolf can’t seem to fit into normal society as he’s too untamed. They’re both alpha males who represent different things to us. Vampires are all about cold seduction, tempting us with their magic and beauty, convincing us to give into our sexual desires in spite of the danger. Werewolves on the other hand wouldn’t go to all that trouble. They’d just grab us, throw us on the bed, and take us with wild abandon. Hot or cold? Seduction or passion? Rock and a hard place, I know.

The battle rages on between these two alpha males. At least in my estimation, the vampire has a firm lead, at least in terms of books written and movies made about them. Bella ends up with Edward, Anita Blake’s boffing Jean-Claude more than Richard, and for every Ginger Snaps there are twelve Fright Nights. Maybe that will change, maybe not, but these rivals will continue to hold a place in our hearts and romantic imaginations for years to come. Now excuse me, I have to go buy my boyfriend a cape and fangs. J

So, are you a werewolf or vampire gal? Both? Do you agree with my assessment or am I seriously far off the mark? Are werewolves getting their equal share of the spotlight? Why not? Discuss.

Happy Holiday's!

Jennifer Harlow