Becoming a blue haired, paranormal princess

Fall is possibly my favorite time of year, despite the fact that I hate being cold and spend the majority of my time shuffling around wearing layers of hoodies and long sleeved shirts. I just…ugh, I hate the cold.  I need to be sitting in a patch of sunshine somewhere.

The only thing I hate about fall is that fact that I now go to work in the catdark and finish working at the next period of dark.  I’ve been working a lot of overtime, too, so it makes it exceptionally dark now.  And, having worked in front of the computer all day, I pretty much just want to lay on the couch and do nothing.  Not even think.  In fact, this picture of my cat, Sam, is basically an accurate representation of me.  This is why I get no writing done during the week.  I’m cold.  I’m lazy.  I’m laying in a heap sleeping with my mouth open, snoring, and no one is going to bother me because I bite (or, as Idris said on Doctor Who: “I like biting.  It’s like kissing, only there’s a winner!”)

I have, however, made time on weekends and in that ultra-slim time frame between my kids falling asleep/me falling asleep to work on a) my awesome co-writing project and, b) occasionally smutty fan fiction (still not telling where it’s located, but it is, in fact, online.  Somewhere).  And we are kicking butt with this paranormal.  Let me tell you.

I’ve reached this really weird, crossroads with my writing.  On one side, you have my historicals: dark.  Historically correct.  Lots of brooding men in uniform running around and women in corsets and hoopskirts and artillery and Edwardians and Victorians and fabulous terms like, “butter upon bacon.”

And then on the other side, you have paranormal.  Ghosts.  Still people running around in corsets.  Brooding men sometimes in uniform, sometimes just in tattoos and a smile.  Weird, unexplainable things and dark, unhappy settings with lots of dust, lots of sass, and lots of hot girls with tattoos and who cuss like well educated sailors.

In an unsettling statistic, completely made up at random, all but like, two percent of my current projects are paranormal.  What’s up, lone historicals there on the far right side of my desktop?  I salute you.

I’ve become this sassy little paranormal princess, with crazy hair, fewer tattoos than I want, and the tendency to drop the F bomb like commas whenever I really get going.  And lets be honest, I really love the F bomb and I really love commas.

I recently went from purple hair, to red hair, and now to blue hair.  Why?blue  Because.  That’s why.  My only regret with this recent hair color is that it looks waaaay more black than blue.  Fail.  But that’s my own fault because I’m too lazy to bleach my hair before I dye it something crazy.  Because, lets be honest.  Can we all collectively imagine the possibilities for disaster if I start bleaching my hair?  No.  Let’s not.

Anyway, so check out that salon worthy ‘do.  Cut, color, and style by me.  Because I’m cheap.  I kind of dig my hair really dark because it offsets nicely from my ultra pale, pasty complexion.  Hot!

But, don’t panic because I have no intention whatsoever of giving up on historical.  I think I’m just going to be really, really busy with all my writing.  More projects hopefully, maybe someday, will equate more readers!  Yeah!

Speaking of readers, head on over to Amazon and check out the awesome comments for With Me Now.  How cool is that??

You know, my thirties are turning into this cautiously rebellious period of my life.  Tepid Twenties, Dirty Thirties.  My hair is crazy, my tattoo obsession is in full force, and I’m a paranormal princess.  You can read my dark historicals full of accuracy and gorgeous clothes or you can read my dark paranormal where no one plays by the rules.

Come play with us.  It’s like The Shining: the musical.  Except with less (well, somewhat less) insanity, more One Direction, and lots of spontaneous dancing.  And the “Here’s Johnny!” scene set to the music of Bedroom Intruder.  (“Hide yo kids, hide you wife.  We gonna find you!”)

Seriously guys, the dye has gone straight to my brain.  But come play anyway.  Obviously, we have drinks.

In which plans got changed and I went on an adventure

I’ve been meaning to blog about our artillery event not happening, but two things have kept me busy:

  1. I’m frantically working on the Steampunk/paranormal I’m co-writing with Rebecca Hamilton (I’m typing until my fingers wear down to the bone–the BONE, guys) and
  2. One Direction is taunting me with some kind of musical foreplay by releasing their new album, Made in the AM random song, by random song up until the full release on 11/13.  Today was Love You Goodbye and LORD (fun fact: “love” is being used as a verb. An action verb. Ahem.).

Anyway, other than being some kind of reclusive, writing hobo (The light!!!!  It burns us!!!), I did actually leave the house for Halloween at the Heights artillery weekend!  Which didn’t happen.  But, that’s completely okay because we are in Harpers Ferry and when you’re a history nerd, it doesn’t matter that your event is cancelled.  There’s always something to do.  Or see.  Or wriggle in.

And thus, The Hubs and I went on an adventure!

I am not actually known for being adventurous.  I’m more…uh, well, more known for writing about other people having adventures.  But this time, it was actually me and The Hubs, out in the wild: walking on a trail that may or may not have been the Appalachian Trail, walking a historic hiking trail without photo IDs and having a park ranger stop and watch us from across the field, wandering in places that didn’t say No Trespassing, but with that faint uncertainty that maybe it was just implied.  Boy, I tell you what.  I’ve hit some kind of weird, pseudo-rebellious stage.  Forget my tepid 20s, I’m all about my dirty 30s!


2015-10-25 11.12.09The first place we “explored” was a lot less of exploring and a lot less of me sticking my iPhone and my arms through a chain link fence to get better pictures.  The Hilltop House Hotel was built in 1888 and, according to a super brief Google search, closed indefinitely back in 2008.  There was a partial collapse in 2012.  Way back in 2003, The Hubs and I had wanted to get married here.  Now, it’s literally rotting where it stands.  The windows are broken, the front side is crumbling.  It’s pretty sad.  It’s 2015-10-25 11.16.52surrounded by a chain link fence and looks like it’s read to just fall apart, so I didn’t even entertain the thought of sneaking inside.  I think the closest I got to it was saying, “Wow, it would be so cool to go inside and see what’s left!”  It’s so, so pretty.  This little stone bench is pretty well overgrown by bushes (I don’t know what kind of bush it is, but to me it smells like filed fingernails.  I’m sure it’s a lovely greenery but ew).  There was also a newer section of the hotel on the other side of the road.  It too is abandoned but was not circled by a fence.  Meaning, if you wanted to get inside…you totally could.

Look, I’ve been watching a lot of Criminal Minds over the last several weeks.  I love me some Spencer Reid.  But if I’ve learned one thing from Criminal Minds, it’s not to go wandering into abandoned buildings with pentagrams written in the dirt on the doors and the doors kicked in.  No.  Because, you know, I can’t see the bathroom from that kicked open room door.  As far as I’m concerned, the UnSub is waiting in there.  Nope.  Someone else can go in.

And what do you know, three other someones did.  I was taking a picture of the second floor doors when a dude just strolled out of one of the rooms.  Yeah.  I just about peed myself.  Out loud, I said, “OMG, a guy.”  The stairwells were locked (well, 2015-10-25 11.27.07they probably were at one point but the locks were busted) so anyone could just wander around and become the next victim in the BAU’s lineup.  Or arrested for trespassing.

Upon review of the above, I’ve determined that this is a lot less of Heather Curley: intrepid explorer and a lot more Heather Curley: cautious observer.

Meh.  Whatev.

Across from the hotel ruins were several abandoned houses.  I can only assume that the real estate had been purchased with the hotel, as they were a hot mess.  I was SO freaking excited!  It was this exciting, oh my gosh I’m an explorer! with a healthy dose of I’m so afraid of getting arrested (whispered much, much quieter).  It was like2015-10-25 11.30.28 being in Return to Oz, when Dorothy first…uh…returns to Oz and finds her old house decaying in the woods.  That was the movie moment I was having.

And the gaping cellar door, opened to the inky darkness of the basement?  That was one, big gigantic nope.  I didn’t even want to get close to it, just incase.  Just in case of anything.

I was quickly running out of room on my phone for more pictures (you know, Older Child asked me last week were our digital camera went and I can honestly say I have no idea.  I haven’t even seen a digital camera in like, five years).  We decided to expand our adventure and went on a nature hike over area known as School House Ridge.  Here, in September of 1862, is where Stonewall Jackson marched 2015-10-25 13.48.34against the Union lines–also known as the reason we have our artillery demonstration.  Fun fact if you plan on hiking the like, two miles on the trail?  Don’t wear Chuck Taylors.  I was going for fashion and my feet were very, very upset.

This was also something like, The Abandoned Houses in the Harpers Ferry Area Tour, since we came across piles and piles of ruins.  I don’t even know what this building was or who it belonged to.  The Hubs and I had a really fun time looking over what was left, trying to figure out where doors, windows, and fireplaces had been.  We think (NPS friends, feel free to jump in at any time) that the house burned, 2015-10-25 13.50.52based on scorch marks on the floorboard pieces we could see in the walls.  I’m not sure, though.  I even Googled it.  Google didn’t know either.  Bummer, Google.

I made a lot of Criminal Minds references and One Direction references (Hubs: it only faces in one direction.  Me: (elbows him in the ribs) One Direction??!  Ba-hahahahaha) and had a ton of Novel-y ideas.  Oh, and speaking of which, if you follow me on Pinterest (and if you haven’t, you should), I have an entire board dedicated to Novel-y Stuff.  It’s called “Novel-y Stuff.”  I also have boards for my Civil War novels and for With Me Now.  If nothing else, it entertains me.  Love ya, Pinterest.

Infomercial over.

Yeah, we didn’t get to play with artillery.  I used up all the memory left on my phone taking pictures of ruins.  But it was awesome!  And now I’ve got countless ideas for plots and novel-y goodness.

You’ve been warned.  ;)

My awkward inability to NaNo

The computer is back!!  Yaaaaaaaaay!

And there was much rejoicing.

So, the past two weeks have been awkward.  No laptop.  No ability to write trashy fan fiction—I mean, I mean, my novels.  My current list of works in progress looks a little something like this:

  • Paranormal/steampunk with Rebecca Hamilton
  • Paranormal sequel to With Me Now
  • Paranormal C
  • Paranormal D
  • Possible Paranormal Project 2  **Top Secret!!!**

Yeah.  That’s a little different than our normal lineup.  For those of you who have been around a long time, you may remember the days of old when the only projects I had were historical.  The times they are a’changin!

Anyway, so, for the past two weeks I’ve been sitting here with a weird inability to be creative, since despite my affection for pen and paper, a girl can not subside on it alone.  I worked out some.  I got really addicted to Criminal Minds (more specifically, Dr. Spencer Reid).  And then the laptop came home.

And life, as we know it, continued.

Thank God it’s Friday, right?  Time to settle down and get some legit writing done.  Now that the laptop is back, I worked on my newsletter (but you know that because you’re signed up, right?) and announced the winner of the “Name the Newsletter” contest that was supposed to end in September but ended up in October.  Ehhh.  Anyway, the winner was Hope, who knows me pretty darn well, despite the fact we’ve never met.  And the newsletter name is:

Hambel’s Rambles: A sweetened, condensed version of The Rambling Jour

Sweet!  I have to buy sweetened, condensed milk tomorrow for a cake I’m making tomorrow for church: my notorious “Better than Tom Selleck” cake.  Hopefully I’ll remember to buy the SCM after all this discussion of it.  There will be no Tom Selleck cake if I don’t.

So, anyhow, National Novel Writing Month is rapidly approaching.  You know, I try this every year.  And every year, November is traditionally the month I write the least amount.  Self sabotage?  Rebellion against a popular thing all the cool kids are doing?  It’s not that I don’t try!  I have charts and graphs and then there was the year I cheated in an attempt to win and NO, darn it, I cannot write 50,000 words in a month with the entire world watching.  I can’t.

Should I be writing 50,000 words in a month?  Yes.  I need to switch that internal editor off and just write.  But you know, that darn hard for me.  I’m a writing perfectionist.  I like awesomeness in one shot.  I don’t want to write four drafts of a paper, I want to write it in a couple hours and turn it in and get my A.  That’s how it worked in college and, darn it, that’s how it should work in the real world too.  I even bought one of those Wreck This Journal which is supposed to challenge your perfectionist-ness.  And I’m really trying not to be a perfectionist with it.  That’s probably why the only thing written in it is my name.  In pink.

I’m excited to jump on bandwagons as much as the next kid, but there’s just something about meeting/exceeding word count goals and then, inevitably falling behind, that makes me just want to lay face down on the floor and do nothing.  Maybe it all boils down to my hate of competition.  Stay undefeated.  Don’t compete.

So, no, I won’t be doing NaNo this year.  I’ll cheer those of you who are better word count warriors than me on (gooooooo team!).  I’ll be the one drinking Monster energy drinks or SoCo pretending second drafts are the monsters hiding underneath our beds at night.

Speaking of which: do you know what I found in my kids’ room?  A plastic toy muffin box with two mummified brownies in it.  The last time I remember making brownies was like, 4th of July.  Younger Son said, “Those smell good!”  It sounded like I was dumping charcoal in the garbage can.  My kids are like squirrels, hiding food all over the place and then discovering it months later?  Remember that deflated clementine we found like, a year later?  So gross.

And suddenly, it’s 1982. 

Let’s discuss how I don’t like change. For example, I don’t. So when we strolled into Best Buy to look at new laptops and it didn’t look like, oh, let’s say 1998, I was a wee bit disgruntled. Where are the shelves and shelves of computer games? Every movie you could ever want to purchase?

Clue: not there. 

In an incident that everyone in the house claims no knowledge of, my laptop suffered some kind of calamity in which it fell from here– 

–all the way over to there. And the side cracked. But not just the side, but the side underneath the AC adaptor port. And apparently, that’s not just a quick fix, but a “send to the manufacturer and have them replace the ENTIRE MOTHERBOARD” kind of repair. Because the stupid thing won’t charge. 

  Pre-color run Heather says, “Apox on you.”

Sooooo, here I am, blogging on my cellphone app. Writing? In notebooks. I looked at the sales child at Best Buy (because he had to have been like, 17) and said, “I’ve used a computer since I was three and I’m not sure I can emotionally handle the next few weeks.”

He chuckled. 

He probably did this because I was three 30 years ago. In 1985. Which was possibly an entire decade before he was born. 

  Post Color Run Heather is smiling because she has a medal, can legally drink, and doesn’t have to do homework anymore. And has Sponge Bob knee socks. 

You know, I wish I could vacation in the 1980s and 1990s. I had this discussion with The Hubs Saturday night, along with the Timeline of Pants I’ve worn since 1995. Which, in case you’re curious is as follows:

  • Chic
  • LEI
  • Old Navy
  • Bongo

But think about. Classic computer games! Clear Pepsi! The Brat Pack! Ralph Macchio looking exactly like Ralph Macchio! Awesome toys and music and TV shows and laughing in the face of danger–WHY? Because we travelled places without cellphones and paper maps. There was no Internet. There were Dot Matrix printers and magical things called disc drives! Rotary phones! Crimped hair and enormous perms!! Life was slower then. Maybe we were all weighed down by shoulder pads. 

The Hubs said, “How old are you now? 78?”


So, for the time being, no updated newsletter. Slooooow writing. Even slower salacious fan fiction writing (wait, who said that?). I’ll be here, blogging from my phone, emailing from my phone, writing on paper, and crimping my hair. 

I am unable to quit, as I am currently too legit. 

Steampunk Sass? Why yes. Yes I will.

Maybe there’s something legit to this upcoming Blood Moon/latest apocalypse that’s coming up (and side note: how many times have we all survived the pending end of the world?  Wasn’t the last one the end of the Mayan calendar?  Or the last Blood Moon?).  I haven’t worked on a historical fiction in like, two months.

This is a weird development.

I am so into Steampunk right now!  We’ve dallied in this realm before, notably trying not to get sucked in (see here), but now…I don’t know, it’s like….Pinterest level addiction.  I’m the proud over of a Steampunk reference board.  I may have looked to see if there are any Steampunk groups around here.  And when I say ‘may’ what I mean is ‘I did.’  And yes.  There are.

At this point, I need to come into large sums of money in order to purchase and rock some Steampunk gear: namely, a corset, a fancy skirt, rockin’ leather boots, and a top hat.  I’m easily convinced to get the top hat anyway, because what says ‘quirky author’ more than a jaunty top hat?  And, on a related note, my Steampunk co-writer, Becca Hamilton, and I have decided that once our SP novel gets published, we’ll be wearing top hats to author events.  So, there’s that to look forward to.

ship1Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I dyed my hair bright, Manic Panic red over the weekend.  Which is awesome!  Unfortunately, the next day I went into Downtown Pittsburgh in 90 degree weather, stood in line for an hour and a half to walk through a steel WWII era landing ship, and ended up having my hair dye start to melt on my face.  Well, technically speaking, my sweat encouraged my hair dye to drip everywhere.  And since it’s red, it looks a wee bit stigmatic, as if I was sweating blood.  Everywhere.  The Hubs elbowed me and very, very stealthily whispered, “Do.  You.  Have.  A.  Napkin?”

I’m digging the red hair!  I’m not digging the fact my pillow is now red.  My mother, who has little hair dying experience but mass experience with fabric and thread, suggested I rinse it with vinegar, since that stops thread from bleeding color onto fabric.  So, I’ll be trying this soon.  Ish.  I mean, it’s not that I’m not totally looking forward to smelling like Easter Eggs, but I’m petrified all the hair dye is just to leak off my head and I’ll have to dye it again.  Though, if that happens, I’m staging some Psycho movie montage pictures and, voila.  Christmas card.

The LST was awesome.  An LST is a Landing Ship, Tank.  LST 325 participated in D Day, landing on Omaha Beach on June 7th (technically, D Day plus 1).  It also took part in Operation Husky, which was an invasion of Sicily in 1943.  About 1000 LSTs were built in 1942 and more were built for Vietnam and Korea.  LST 325 had 70 years of service and is actually the lastship2 fully operational (insert Star Wars joke here) LST left.

I’ve been on battleships before (the Alabama in Mobile, Alabama) but this was pretty awesome!  It was more open (more the tanks and gear it transported) and had much, much smaller guns.  There was a really cool battle bridge below the regular bridge.  You can go to their website for more information.

I taught Younger Child to say, “Woooo, Betty Grable!” which was fun.  You know, sometimes WWII reenacting sounds really awesome–I know a few peeps who do that time period.  It’d be fun to wear cool clothes, cool shoes, and do my hair in 40s style Victory Waves.  Do I do this anyway?  Yes.  But I’m looking to do it with other people who are doing it too.

And, speaking of reenacting, the last Civil War reenacting event of the year is swiftly approaching, also known as Halloween at the Heights: the annual event in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia at the end of October.  I’ll be the one trying to figure out how to hide my exceptionally red hair under a hood.  Or hat.  Or wig.  Good times.

I bought a journal and it’s not working out for me

Imagine with me, if you will, a glorious time called 1990.  I was in third grade, which was memorable for the following reasons:

  • I wore enormous pink, plastic glasses
  • It was the last year I had long hair until 1998 (what’s up Dorothy Hamill haircut, circa 1976?  Yikes)
  • I got lice (unrelated to the poor decision to go with the aforementioned Dorothy Hamill ‘do)
  • I met Sara, Rambling Jour regular!
  • I was somewhat of a kleptomaniac (if Justin Bovee is reading this, I stole your Cedar Point pen and I’m really, really sorry about that).

This was also the year that my grandma gave me my very first diary.


Let that sink in a minute.

As of today, twenty-five years later (shout out to Sara–hey, we’ve been friends for 25 years!) the diary still has an entire section of blank pages.  In fact, I think I wrote a four page concluding entry in 2002 or 2003 to summarize the fact I was now super old and totally in love with The Hubs who, at that point, was still The Boyfriend.

With that stellar track record, I was at Target the other day, buying cat food, and thought, “Hey, you know, you totally should start a journal and keep track of all these cray cray thoughts wandering around in your head.”

Sure.  Makes sense.

So, I shelled out $6.99 for a super cute aquamarine colored journal, with pictures of pencils on the front and a magnetic closure.  Let’s be honest: it had me with pictures of pencils embossed on the front.  Not to mention, I’m a sucker for notebooks and writing utensils.  I get waaaay too excited in office supply stores.

It’s literally still in the bag on my bedroom floor.

Not going so well with that whole journaling thing.  I mean with so much spare time….

….which, obvs, I don’t have.  Right now, I’m juggling three different writing projects (and–get this–all of them are paranormal.  No historicals right now!) and working on promotions for With Me Now.  By the time I’m done with that, I’m literally falling asleep in front of the computer.  I’ve turned into my friend Candy who, when we were teenagers and having a sleepover, would say, “I’m going to fall asleep now” as she was falling asleep.  Example: the other night I was eating a potato chip and talking to The Hubs and legit started to fall asleep.

No Bueno.

And, I guess, much as my problem was as a kid, I don’t know what to journal about.  My mundane life?  My crazy, Harry Styles/Steampunk/weird imagination?  I’ll be honest, I’ve been known to write story ideas in crayon on the backs of envelopes and I keep a notebook in the bathroom/by my bed just in case an idea hits me when I’m sleeping or in the shower or whatever.  But a journal.  Ehhh….I got nothing.

What do you guys journal about?  Story ideas?  Frustrations?  Scandalous opinions on certain boy banders?  I feel like everything that my brain generates turns into a novel/blog idea anyway.  Hmmm.

Here’s what I’m thinking of using it for, since apparently I’m less journalist and more…weird.  Maybe I’ll use it to write down one bizarre thought a day.  Something that’s completely random.  Example: today I’ve been thinking about blank and white striped corsets.  Journal entry.

This is turning into a fab idea.  Next thing you know, I’m going to be using this as blog prompts.  And then as fodder to help me get out of writer’s block.  And then, in another 25 years, I’ll blog about how I still haven’t finished this journal either.

Life goals, kids.  Life.  Goals.

Books, battlefieds, and booze: That’s how I roll

Well, that was a weekend.  Today I’m hobbling around like a 95-year-old coal miner with bad ankles.

But I won a medal.

signing2Soooo, let’s journey back to Friday night, which was my very first ever book signing.  And I was filled with terror, anxiety, overwhelming shyness and, of course, I wore a miniskirt and platform shoes.  Because nothing tempts fate more than a miniskirt and platform shoes.

The Hubs and I were circling the block, trying to find a place to park (side note: metered parking is a joke.  Twenty-five cents for fifteen minutes?  No.  Stupid) when I saw a sign outside of a shop, which read, “Book signing: 6-8.”

I said to The Hubs, “Oh look!  There’s a book signing!”


I said, “Oh wait, that’s my book signing!”

And thusly, I both mentally and physically arrived at The Adams County Winery.

It was actually really, really fun.  The ladies at The Adams Country Winery were amazing and so incredibly friendly.  I got to try a few wines (I’ve wanted to try their white wine, Gettysburg’s Tears, for years and I was NOT disappointed) and discovered asigning1 magical thing called a wine slushy.  It was a pretty slow night, so I didn’t sell crates of books or anything, but it was a fabulous experience.  My mother and Rambling Jour regular, Sara, and her hubs Jai, all came down and hung out.  It was so much fun!

I did live Tweet part of the book signing, mainly, my anti-social, panic princess nervousness before the signing started.  Reviewing them, my favorite was this gem:

As I panic for my #booksigning, I picked a Monster to drink. Now I’m nervous and ready to do a cartwheel.

Luckily, I didn’t attempt the cartwheel.  But I did almost fall off the curb.

It was a fabulous experience and I’m looking forward to setting up another signing where I can be equally as awkward.  So, if you weren’t able to come out to this signing, no worries because there will (hopefully) be more.  In related news, setting up book signings is actually hard.

On Saturday, the other moment we’ve all been waiting happened: The Hard Cider Run at Hauser Estate Winery (what is it with her an wineries? Said no one ever).  This was my first ever 5k so I had no idea what to expect.  Well, other than having to run 5k.  The Hubs was not entirely excited about it, but upon packet pickup we were presented with a t-shirt that says “Will Run for Cider.”

We were very excited about this.

run1We actually missed our 9:10 wave because traffic was so bad, but we managed to join the 9:30 wave.  And.  Can I just say.  This race was amazing and an insane amount of fun–but it was HARD.  It wasn’t a little stroll through the vineyard.  It was a cross country, hiking up huge, steep hills, and stumbling down hills in the hot, glare of the August sun.

And because this wasn’t like, the Tough Mudder or something, we also ran through grape vines which was really, really cool.

The Hubs and I walked a lot of the race–but so did everyone else, because the terrain was crazy–and our time wasn’t the kind that will win records, but I had an amazing time.  Upon crossing the finish line, I was promptly presented with a medal and a banana.  I know, right???  I was thrilled.  Gift bananas, awards, and then a glass of cider–where I get to keep the glass?  Sweeeeet.

Later that evening, we went to the Gettysburg BrewFest, which is exactly what you’d think it is: a festival of beer.  Yes.  There was rumor there would be sobriety checkpoints everywhere that night and the last thing I wanted was The Hubs to drink water all night, so we made the adult decision to walk to the BrewFest, instead of drive.

Which seemed like a good idea at the time.

On a normal day, it would have been fine.  On a day where we’d earlier run/walked over three miles, it was not, in fact, a notable decision.  Here’s what I learned about myself at BrewFest:

  • I do not like pepper infused port.  I said, and I quote, “Blech.”
  • I have an affinity for hard cider
  • I’ll buy hoodies in 88 degree weather
  • Grilled cheese sandwiches stuffed with mac and cheese are a gift from God
  • After three glasses of beer, I will go up to guys with beards and say, “Can I have my picture taken for you?  It’s for my blog.”

So that happened.

According to my Fitbit, I walked/ran 18 miles.  My ankles are so unhappy.  My back and arms (which is odd, because the heaviest thing I carried was my laptop bag) are unhappy.  Last night, as I was flopped across the couch, I said to The Hubs, “I seriously just want someone to strap me into the Rack so my arms and legs can get a good stretch.”

I then looked at him and said, “Can you just grab me by the ankles and pull me across the floor?”

As I’m still hobbling around like Quasimodo today, obvs his answer was no.  I’m so old these days.

I still have a ton of hardcopy books in my possession, so if you’re interested in an autographed copy, just let me know.  This can totally happen.

Meanwhile, it’s back to the real world.  But then, recently I’ve been a firm supporter of rejecting reality and substituting my own version.  One Direction is breaking up.  I have to go to work tomorrow.  If you need me, Harry Styles and I will be riding Falcor to Castle Greyskull to have lunch with Poppels and the cast of Zubilee Zoo.

In other words, back to status quo.

With Me Now book signing: Today! Come meet me!

Or just come grab a book mark, piece of chocolate, and don’t make eye contact with me.  Whatev.

coverSooo, after like….24 years of talking about being an author (I’d like you to imagine me as being a cool fourth grader, but no.  It was me and Sara, with our big glasses, on the teeter totter talking about writing), tonight it the night I’ll be starring in the role of Author.  Yes!  I have a box of books and book marks in the trunk of the car and I’m on my way to Gettysburg.

Well, not this second.  I’m wearing a One Direction shirt and Pittsburgh Pirates shorts and watching Madagascar.  And, yeah, my kids are outside.  Shame/No Shame.

I am so freaking nervous for tonight.

But look, hey, my social awkwardness aside, come out and join me!  Books are $15.  Chocolate and bookmarks are free.  There’s no charge for my awesomeness.  You can find the party at:

  • Adams County Winery, 25 Chambersburg Street, Gettysburg PA 17325

I’ll be the one sitting/standing behind a stack of books, giggling nervously.

Unless I get swarmed by hundreds of fans (doubtful) or one Harry Styles (hahahahaha, right), I’ll be live tweeting my nervous, sarcastic comments on Twitter.  Click here for the fun.

And, of course, expect pictures, an after action report, and the results of my first 5K tomorrow.  Or Sunday, because I’m going to the Gettysburg BrewFest tomorrow night.  Soooo…..yeah, there’s always the chance you won’t hear from me until Monday.

Tonight, though, tonight is the night!  I’ve already told The Hubs that we’re totally doing a whisper campaign via The Muppets Take Manhattan: I’ll sit under a glamorous picture of me and say “hmm hmm hmm” like Kermit and The Hubs will slink around crowds whispering, “Hey, did you see that girl over there?  That’s Heather ‘The Rambling Jour’ Curley.  She wrote that amazing book ‘With Me Now’!”

It worked for Kermit and Manhattan Melodies.  That makes it legit, right?

Seriously, though.  If you’re in the area tonight, stop by!  And if you’re not in the area, send positive thoughts/prayers/juju/whatev that I don’t trip and fall or spill something on myself.  Because you know, I totally threw caution to the wind and am wearing a white shirt.  And platform shoes.  Let’s hope it doesn’t turn out like that time I ate blueberry pancakes right before I pitched my novel to an agent and dyed my teeth purple.  That was fun.

Internal shriek of terror: 5 days until my book signing!

You know that part in “Ice Age” where all the Dodo birds are slinking forward and chanting, “Doom on you!  Doom on you!  Doom on you!”  Yeah, that’s what keeps replaying through my brain.  If there was a pie chart of things I’m nervous about for my book signing, it would include:

  • Nobody showing up
  • Millions showing up
  • Harry Styles showing up
  • Spilling something down the front of my shirt
  • Sporadic nosebleed
  • Laryngitis
  • Getting my hair stuck in a swing (as in swing set) chain and completely missing the book signing

I’m noting the last one because this happened to me in preschool.  So, it’s completely plausible.

paperbacksSo, mark your calendars friends because, as you know, on August 21, 2015, The Rambling Jour show goes live in Gettysburg for my first ever, book signing/release party extravaganza!  Join me at The Adams Country Winery (click here for directions) 25 Chambersburg Street retail location from 6p to 8p.  I’ll have free bookmarks and free chocolate.  Feel dismiss the whole “Strangers With Candy” vibe that last sentence kind of, you know, gave off.  Books, free bookmarks, free chocolate, wine, and witting repartee with your host, Heather Hambel Curley.  The Princess of Panic.  The Sassmaster Supreme.

Keep in mind: There are only 20 copies of my book that will be with me at 25C.  That leaves you only twenty chances to snag a copy and have it autographed by me, in Gettysburg.  So, for reals, get there early and strut right up to me.  Already have a copy?  Bring it!  I’ll sign it.

Local groupies: if you can’t make it out to glamorous Gettysburg, that’s okay because I’m going to get some stuff set up here too.  Let’s not panic yet (aka, leave the panicking to me).

Also fun: I’m going to live Tweet the book signing for my own amusement.  And that means exactly what you’re thinking: lots of sarcasm, wit, hilarity, and euphemisms.  Follow me here: Heather_Curley

Also, I’ll be hanging out at the Hard Cider Run (actually, I’ll be competing there because it’s my first 5K ever!!!) and the Gettysburg BrewFest, both on Saturday, so if you see me there, come and say hi!  I’ll give you a bookmark.

Needless to say, I’m nervous.  But then, I’m always nervous.  Which is why I’m medicated.  Anyway, so, if you’re around Gettysburg this Friday (or live around the area–Jeff, Verity, Scranton, Levi, and Karen, I’m looking at you), come out and say hi.  Buy a book.  Snag some chocolate and a bookmark.  Ask me to dance.  It’s going to be epic.

And if no one shows up, I’ll eat all the chocolate by myself, so it’s totally a win/win situation.

With Me Now is in paperback! And I’ll sign it for you 8/21!

I know, right?

I’ve been in some kind of Harry Styles coma for the past, like five days.  Okay, maybe since November.  Anyway, Shuff (typo and it stays) is happening and I’m stoked.  You should be too!  In the order populated by my brain:

  • With Me Now is now available in paperback!

No ebook reader?  No problem!  Evernight Publishing has released With Me Now in paperback.  Right now it is available by clicking here and next week it will be available on Amazon.  Sweet!  And, hey, do you want that signed?  Because…..

  • Book signing/release party/let’s get together, yeah yeah yeah!

On August 21, from (most likely) 6p to 8p, I will be live and in person at 25C Wine Shop in Gettysburg!  Come and drink wine with me.  Meet Rambling Jour regulars The Hubs, Sara, and Sara’s Hubs Jai.  Possibly my mother!  We’ll laugh.  I’ll be awkward.  I’ll have books to peddle and maybe you’ll be the lucky one person to show up and I’ll award you with a mug or tote bag.  Come on.  Join me!

  • I got a tattoo!  Again!

tat3It’s August, that time of year where a girl’s thoughts turn to all that empty space on her body and the need for another tattoo.  So, this happened the night before the One Direction concert.  Side note: I was not excited about the 40-something One Direction fan at the concern who repeatedly hit me in the tattoo with her boobs.  This was in no means thrilling for me.  I ended up having to invade Jackie’s personal space in order to avoid the ongoing boobage assault.


So, the tattoo is, obvs, a quill pen, an inkwell, and a quote.  The quote is actually a quote from Doctor Who (but you knew that, right?).  And actually pretty applicable to my life.  Hurray for third tattoos!  So, now I’ve got one on each from hip to ribs and my sea turtle by my belly button (you can kind of see it in the picture).

Of the three tattoos I have, this one was not particularly pleasant to get.  As in, I wasn’t sad when it was over.  I’m cold hearted and emotionless, but even this made me think “yikes.”  The Hubs asked me if I wanted to go somewhere at some time and I just babbled out “okay.”  I have no idea what I agreed to.  I have no idea what he said.  I’ll let you know when I get there.

  • I’m co-writing a book with Rebecca Hamilton and I’m so excited, I literally almost tumbled off my chair.

Also of note: I’m clumsy.  So, Rebecca Hamilton is the super awesome, USAToday Bestselling author of the Forever Girl series.  Her writing is amazing.  In fact, you should check her out here.  She’s friends with my girl Lindsey Loucks (who you should check out here) and we’re all agency sisters with TZLA.  She posted on Facebook that she needed a cowriter for a steampunk/paranormal series, to which I said, “Sign me up!”

And now it’s happening.

The only things I’ve ever co-written were reports in college (at which, I did not play well with others).  This, however, is so awesome!  I told her that she and I are like Peanut Butter and Nutella.  We go so well together!  Served best with a side of Harry Styles (sorry/not sorry)!

There’s definitely more on this to come, so stay tuned.  Steampunk?  Paranormal?  Yes.  And it’s amazing.

  • Newsletters.  Because I can’t get enough of me.

And neither can you!  So, I’ve been putting off putting a newsletter together for my writing because…well, until recently there hasn’t been much to say other than writing/rejecting/and salacious fan fiction denying (don’t ask what/where it is, because I’m not telling.  Most likely).  But now, it’s happening!  So, if you’re interested in an occasional newsletter from me, click the Contact Me tab above and fill out the form.  In the comment box, just type “Sign Me Up!”

Once I get a better process for that, I’ll let you know.

Okay, kids, I’ve gotta go write.  I’m juggling three projects right now and I just realized I have porkchop stains on my shirt.  Which is not hot.  Trust me, I’ll be hotter at the signing.  Or, at least, hopefully wearing clean clothes.

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