This was originally going to be printed in an e-publication but because of various mundane reasons it didn’t happen so I thought I’d share it all with you today as a little Halloween gift.
When my son and I walked inside our local Halloween Super Store we were greeted by a cackling skeleton with flashing red eyes. My son grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the spectacle as quickly as possible.
“Remember,” I said, “it’s not real.”
My son looked up at me with an expression that told me he was in no way reassured. “It’s scary,” he said emphatically.
I shrugged. “Lots of people like to be scared by pretend villains on Halloween.”
“Like when that lady told you she got scared while reading the park scene in your book,” he said slowly.
“That’s right.” I gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “That lady enjoyed being scared by that scene.”
“Are adults scared of the pretend villains on Halloween?”
I hesitated as I examined some “instant scar” make-up. “Most aren’t…grown-ups are scared of different kinds of villains.”
“Like the ones in your books?”
“Sometimes.”
“Tell me about the villains in your books.”
“Well, in the next book there’s a man who is unfaithful to his wife and emotionally detached from his child.”
My son shook his head vehemently. “No one dresses up as one of those on Halloween.”
Of course I laughed but I also felt that he had a point. On Halloween we go to great lengths to recreate all of our childhood nightmares. Of course there are a few of us who take the opportunity to dress up as our favorite rock star or as a dominatrix nurse (see below post) but zombie, mummy and werewolf costumes have enjoyed continued popularity for well over half a century. But no one ever tries to look like something really scary. I mean has anyone ever attended a Halloween party where people were disguised as IRS employees and abusive boyfriends with drinking problems?
Let’s face it, Halloween is about giving our kids nightmares but most of us aren’t really interested in scaring grown-ups. Otherwise we’d be dressing up as Borders executives and trick-or-treating at independent bookstores.
Perhaps we make Halloween about childhood fears because unlike children most adults are scared every day of the year and we don’t want the personification of those fears knocking at our door begging for candy.
Of course we manage our fear better than our kids; we problem solve, compartmentalize and/or take Paxil. But managed or not the fear is there. Most kids experience fear like a rollercoaster. It’s scary but there’s a 99.9% chance that the ride will function properly and the whole thing will be over in a matter of minutes and (perhaps most importantly) no one will be the worse for wear. For adults facing our fears is like skydiving. Maybe we’ll have a safe landing but we can’t help but ponder the necessity of the agreement we signed saying we wouldn’t sue the company that gave us the parachute if fails to open.
So perhaps it’s better that we keep the adult villains between the covers of books that we can tuck away on shelves or confined inside two hour films. That way the things that scare us remain manageable (the way we like them). Besides after Halloween there’s Thanksgiving, Hanukah and Christmas to deal with and if the family and economic obligations that accompany those holidays aren’t enough to scare the bejeezus out of you you’re made of tougher stuff than I am.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Monday, October 31, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
My Best Halloween Memory
Sorry I’ve been out of touch for a little while, I was fighting to meet a deadline. Now that it’s behind me I’m trying to figure out how I’m going to celebrate Halloween. Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. One of my fondest memories is of Halloween of 2001. Less than a week before that Halloween I was sitting in a Starbucks in San Jose with my friend Brenda and we were talking about all the recent changes in my life. I had filed for divorce approximately two months earlier and I was telling her that I was ready to start dating again (albeit casually). Brenda’s eyes lit up and she grabbed my hand. “There’s a Halloween party this Saturday, there are going to be lots of single men attending and you have to come with me. Can you get a babysitter?”
I immediately called my mother (who was actually watching my son at that moment) and told her about Brenda’s invitation. Saturday is “date night” for my mother and stepfather so I wasn’t sure if she’d agree. The woman didn’t even hesitate. “Of course I’ll watch him,” she said. “You need to go out and have some fun.”
I conveyed the good news to Brenda and then focused on my second problem; I didn’t have a costume and I couldn’t afford to buy one since at that time I was on the verge of bankruptcy.
Brenda waved my concerns away. “I’m taking you to downtown Santa Cruz right now and I’m going to buy you a costume at Camouflage!”
There’s a few things you should know about Camouflage. The first is that it’s owned by a friend of my family, Joan Levine. Second is that it’s kind of an upscale sex shop. In fact I pictured Camouflage when creating Dena’s shop, Guilty Pleasures in Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. Camouflage is also famous for their fun, sexy Halloween costumes. So we got there at 9:45 pm and Joan was there preparing to close up. When she asked how I was doing I just laid it on the line for her. “Here’s the deal,” I said, “I just recently filed for divorce and this Saturday I’ll be going to my first party as a newly single woman. I need a sexy costume but if it requires a matching thong it’s too short.”
With a knowing smile Joan ushered me into a dressing room and handed me several outfits to try on (and despite my request some of them did have a matching thong). She actually let me stay an additional hour after closing just so I had time to find the perfect costume. In the end I decided to be a nurse---you know, the kind of nurse who wears skintight, vinyl mini dresses and five inch platform-stripper-shoes.
The next day I called my friend Shawn Cavlan and told her about the party and the costume. “You have to let me do your make-up!” Shawn exclaimed. Shawn is actually a make-up artist and a rather successful one at that. She is always booked so for her to fit a complimentary make-over into her schedule was kind of a big deal. I got to her house a few hours before the party and she went to work on me as her three year old daughter Ella looked on.
I remember Ella examing my costume that was at that time still in a shopping bag. “What’s this?” She asked.
“It’s a dress,” Shawn answered. “The kind of dress that you will never be allowed to wear."
Needless to say Shawn did a spectacular job. I went to the party with Brenda and yes, I did meet lots of single men. It was such a stressful time in my life but that one night was so much fun! And it was incredibly special too, not because of the guys I met but because of how it came to be. Brenda bought me the costume, Joan kept her store open late for me, Shawn did my make-up and my mother took my son overnight. Everyone worked together in order to give me that one night of fun. I’ll never forget that.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
I immediately called my mother (who was actually watching my son at that moment) and told her about Brenda’s invitation. Saturday is “date night” for my mother and stepfather so I wasn’t sure if she’d agree. The woman didn’t even hesitate. “Of course I’ll watch him,” she said. “You need to go out and have some fun.”
I conveyed the good news to Brenda and then focused on my second problem; I didn’t have a costume and I couldn’t afford to buy one since at that time I was on the verge of bankruptcy.
Brenda waved my concerns away. “I’m taking you to downtown Santa Cruz right now and I’m going to buy you a costume at Camouflage!”
There’s a few things you should know about Camouflage. The first is that it’s owned by a friend of my family, Joan Levine. Second is that it’s kind of an upscale sex shop. In fact I pictured Camouflage when creating Dena’s shop, Guilty Pleasures in Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. Camouflage is also famous for their fun, sexy Halloween costumes. So we got there at 9:45 pm and Joan was there preparing to close up. When she asked how I was doing I just laid it on the line for her. “Here’s the deal,” I said, “I just recently filed for divorce and this Saturday I’ll be going to my first party as a newly single woman. I need a sexy costume but if it requires a matching thong it’s too short.”
With a knowing smile Joan ushered me into a dressing room and handed me several outfits to try on (and despite my request some of them did have a matching thong). She actually let me stay an additional hour after closing just so I had time to find the perfect costume. In the end I decided to be a nurse---you know, the kind of nurse who wears skintight, vinyl mini dresses and five inch platform-stripper-shoes.
The next day I called my friend Shawn Cavlan and told her about the party and the costume. “You have to let me do your make-up!” Shawn exclaimed. Shawn is actually a make-up artist and a rather successful one at that. She is always booked so for her to fit a complimentary make-over into her schedule was kind of a big deal. I got to her house a few hours before the party and she went to work on me as her three year old daughter Ella looked on.
I remember Ella examing my costume that was at that time still in a shopping bag. “What’s this?” She asked.
“It’s a dress,” Shawn answered. “The kind of dress that you will never be allowed to wear."
Needless to say Shawn did a spectacular job. I went to the party with Brenda and yes, I did meet lots of single men. It was such a stressful time in my life but that one night was so much fun! And it was incredibly special too, not because of the guys I met but because of how it came to be. Brenda bought me the costume, Joan kept her store open late for me, Shawn did my make-up and my mother took my son overnight. Everyone worked together in order to give me that one night of fun. I’ll never forget that.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Friday, October 21, 2005
Passing The Test Of Character
Hello All,
Now that I’ve finished giving you a brief run down of my Italian trip I can let you in on a little secret: This has honestly been one of the most difficult weeks I’ve had in years. As with most of the more difficult times of my life my current problems are connected to my ex-husband. I can’t blame him exactly, he’s just…lost. I can’t think of a better word for it. But what’s made the recent events so difficult is that unlike during the months after my divorce in 2002 this time I was unable to protect my son from the fallout of everything that’s been going on. He’s 6 now and he sees things that were easy to hide from a 3-year-old. My son is angry and hurt and he has the right to be but trying to be compassionate while still disciplining him when he acts out has been an incredible challenge. I’ve been faced with a lot of challenges these last 7-8 days.
I hate to admit this but I don’t usually look for comfort in religion unless I’m desperate. That’s not to say that I don’t occasionally send up a prayer of thanks when things are going well and I do sing the Shema (a Jewish prayer) with my son every night before he goes to sleep but I don’t necessarily spend a lot of time thinking about the teachings of the Torah or the rabbis. But as I watch my son hurt I can’t help but feel a twinge of desperation and that desperation inspired me to re-read a high holiday sermon given by my rabbi, Richard Litvak. This is not the first time that I’ve called upon this sermon for strength and guidance and it occurred to me that perhaps his words could help someone else too. Below is a very abbreviated version of the sermon. I’ve edited out all the examples he gives to support his points and I’ve skipped over most of the references to the Torah. I’ve done the latter because I honestly think that his words could be helpful to people of any faith. If you’re an atheist then mentally substitute the word “God” with “moral” and “God’s blessing” with “moral praise.” I think that’ll work. Anyway here it is:
The holiday prayer book says that we open during the Ten Days of Repentance, the Book of Life ; which we ourselves have been writing with our own hand. How we respond to daily tests of character in a sense is what we mean when we poetically speak of this Book of Life. It is what constitutes our permanent record. Our permanent record is not about whether or not we get into a future heaven after death. It is a record of how we have done in this life with what really matters, life's daily character tests. Have we led a life that is worthy of God's eternal blessing?
Everyday we choose our higher or lower character. We use our words to hurt or heal. We treat others with compassion or contempt. We are straightforward or we deceive…One of the best things we can do is just become aware…(of) what part of our character is being put to the test. Aware that…we have a higher as well as a lower choice…With this awareness we will pass those character tests.
…we all face tests of the heart in one way or another. Sometimes it is with family and other times with friends. Often times we cannot resolve all of a conflict. What we can do…(is) rise to our higher selves and come up with the bests solution possible from that place of spiritual and emotional integrity…We can write in our permanent record that we were fair, that we balanced justice and mercy; that we strove to act in a manner worthy of God's blessing.
Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav said there are three ways to surmount adversity. You can reach in, reach out, or reach up. You can change your inward view and try to see the blessings in the situation. You can reach outward and try to be blessing to others. Sometimes you have to reach upward for strength and courage to hold on, when life seems to have lost all blessings.
When we face a conflict or matter of the heart in the coming year, let us bring God's eyes to it. Let us bring both justice and mercy. Without controlling others, let us try to act on the best of values…let us not strive for perfection but to bring holiness to a test of the heart
I can’t make my son’s life perfect and I’m not going to try. But I can balance justice and mercy in the way I deal with him and with others who might test me and while I can’t resolve all of this conflict I can rise to my "higher self and come up with the best solution possible from a place of spiritual and emotional integrity." I can feel good about that and I can draw strength from it and that in and of itself is a blessing.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Now that I’ve finished giving you a brief run down of my Italian trip I can let you in on a little secret: This has honestly been one of the most difficult weeks I’ve had in years. As with most of the more difficult times of my life my current problems are connected to my ex-husband. I can’t blame him exactly, he’s just…lost. I can’t think of a better word for it. But what’s made the recent events so difficult is that unlike during the months after my divorce in 2002 this time I was unable to protect my son from the fallout of everything that’s been going on. He’s 6 now and he sees things that were easy to hide from a 3-year-old. My son is angry and hurt and he has the right to be but trying to be compassionate while still disciplining him when he acts out has been an incredible challenge. I’ve been faced with a lot of challenges these last 7-8 days.
I hate to admit this but I don’t usually look for comfort in religion unless I’m desperate. That’s not to say that I don’t occasionally send up a prayer of thanks when things are going well and I do sing the Shema (a Jewish prayer) with my son every night before he goes to sleep but I don’t necessarily spend a lot of time thinking about the teachings of the Torah or the rabbis. But as I watch my son hurt I can’t help but feel a twinge of desperation and that desperation inspired me to re-read a high holiday sermon given by my rabbi, Richard Litvak. This is not the first time that I’ve called upon this sermon for strength and guidance and it occurred to me that perhaps his words could help someone else too. Below is a very abbreviated version of the sermon. I’ve edited out all the examples he gives to support his points and I’ve skipped over most of the references to the Torah. I’ve done the latter because I honestly think that his words could be helpful to people of any faith. If you’re an atheist then mentally substitute the word “God” with “moral” and “God’s blessing” with “moral praise.” I think that’ll work. Anyway here it is:
The holiday prayer book says that we open during the Ten Days of Repentance, the Book of Life ; which we ourselves have been writing with our own hand. How we respond to daily tests of character in a sense is what we mean when we poetically speak of this Book of Life. It is what constitutes our permanent record. Our permanent record is not about whether or not we get into a future heaven after death. It is a record of how we have done in this life with what really matters, life's daily character tests. Have we led a life that is worthy of God's eternal blessing?
Everyday we choose our higher or lower character. We use our words to hurt or heal. We treat others with compassion or contempt. We are straightforward or we deceive…One of the best things we can do is just become aware…(of) what part of our character is being put to the test. Aware that…we have a higher as well as a lower choice…With this awareness we will pass those character tests.
…we all face tests of the heart in one way or another. Sometimes it is with family and other times with friends. Often times we cannot resolve all of a conflict. What we can do…(is) rise to our higher selves and come up with the bests solution possible from that place of spiritual and emotional integrity…We can write in our permanent record that we were fair, that we balanced justice and mercy; that we strove to act in a manner worthy of God's blessing.
Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav said there are three ways to surmount adversity. You can reach in, reach out, or reach up. You can change your inward view and try to see the blessings in the situation. You can reach outward and try to be blessing to others. Sometimes you have to reach upward for strength and courage to hold on, when life seems to have lost all blessings.
When we face a conflict or matter of the heart in the coming year, let us bring God's eyes to it. Let us bring both justice and mercy. Without controlling others, let us try to act on the best of values…let us not strive for perfection but to bring holiness to a test of the heart
I can’t make my son’s life perfect and I’m not going to try. But I can balance justice and mercy in the way I deal with him and with others who might test me and while I can’t resolve all of this conflict I can rise to my "higher self and come up with the best solution possible from a place of spiritual and emotional integrity." I can feel good about that and I can draw strength from it and that in and of itself is a blessing.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Thursday, October 20, 2005
My Last Days In Italy
So now that you know about my first day of publicity in Milan let’s move on to day two. I had been told that Harlequin Mondadori was hosting a happy hour for the press who would “hopefully show up.” I would be one of two authors who was to be introduced.
This is one of those situations where a lot was lost in the translation. Based on the information above I assumed the whole event would be very casual and relaxed. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
This is how it went down: Mondadori sent a car to pick me up and take me to their offices. I was quickly introduced to a lot of different people whose names I’ll never remember and then whisked into the conference room. At that point I realized that this was no ordinary happy hour. Yes, there was food a drink available. There was also somewhere around 100 chairs set up facing a long thin table complete with little table microphones. That’s were I, along with some of the top people at Harlequin Mondadori, were going to be sitting while addressing the press. It was to be my very first full fledged press conference and I was totally taken unawares.
Have you ever seen a senate hearing? That’s what this looked like. I was ushered to my chair and a translator took her place by my side. Oh and the press definitely showed up. The crowd was comprised of reporters from Cosmopolitan Italia, Marie Clare Italia and God only knows how many Italian newspaper journalists. I have no idea if they actually reported on what they saw and heard or if they just came for the free wine but whatever the case may be they were there and they apparently expected me to say something.
The presentation started off with a Harlequin Mondadori representative telling everyone about their imprints and the changing literary marketplace. I kept my eyes glued to the speaker as the translator whispered her words in my ear. Then the representative turned to me and said (in Italian) “Now American author Kyra Davis will be telling us about her book, Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino.”
In America authors are lucky if one reporter wants to hear what we have to say. To have an entire room full of reporters gathered together ready to listen to me was a tad overwhelming. But I managed to pull it together and I think I came across fairly well. I could tell that Stefano was happy with me as was the president of Mondadori so that’s good enough for me. My translator was spectacular and there isn't a doubt in my mind that she translated everything I said perfectly (which is no easy feat, particularly when humor is involved).
Afterwards I autographed a few books and then mingled with the attendants. I can honestly say that I really liked every single person I met there, especially those who worked for or with Mondadori. I’m truly lucky to have the opportunity to work with them. And you want to know the best part? They told me that if I was willing to come back next year to promote the sequel to Sex, Murder And A Double Latte (which will be titled Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights) all I have to do is tell them what Italian city I want to visit and they’ll set it up for me! How fabulous is that?
Anyway when the whole thing was over I met up with Brenda who was waiting for me in our hotel lobby. It was our last night in Italy and there were two things that we wanted to do: 1) get some gelato 2) go out to a club and/or a bar and experience the nightlife of Milan.
I asked Phillipo (a very cute guy who was working the front desk) where we should go to do these things. He was very helpful and gave us the names and locations of a few places.
Obviously we started with the important part of the evening--the gelato. After that we went to Corso Como (a hip little area filled with bars, restaurants and nightclubs). When we walked into a dance club both Brenda and I were literally snatched up by men and pulled onto the dance floor. I tried to keep an eye on Brenda and vice versa but at one point I lost track of her. I tried to make my way to the restroom thinking there was a good chance she was there but this was no easy feat since every time I took two steps a different guy tried to engage me in a dance and/or make-out session. And that’s when I saw Phillipo who coincidentally ended up going to the exact dance club he had recommended to us. He helped me find Brenda and then I spent the rest of the evening dancing with him and God can that man dance! Never in my life have I had that much fun on a dance floor. At one point he actually lifted me into the air and then dipped me so low that my head almost touched the ground. It was the perfect finale for my Italian adventure. Brenda was dancing with Phillipo’s friend but unfortunately they were not getting along quite as well. We all headed outside after a little while and that’s when Phillipo gave me his soul. He seemed so sincere about it and he was so incredibly cute and his kisses were amazingly sweet and tender. I seriously contemplated taking things to the next level. But there were two problems:
1) I don't have any moral issues with one night stands but I’ve yet to have one. The reason can be summed up in two words “Cape Fear.” Those of you who’ve seen the movie know what scene I’m thinking of. Illeana Douglas who’s been drinking way too much meets seemingly harmless but actually psychotic Robert De Niro in a bar and then brings him back to her bedroom and what starts out as a consensual casual tryst turns into something ugly and very violent. I honestly think Phillipo is a good guy and I was incredibly charmed by him but I was in a foreign country, I had been drinking and I had only hung out with him for one night.
2) This is probably the bigger of the two problems: I don’t believe in abandoning my friends. Brenda wasn’t happy with the guy who was at that time glued to her side and since she and I were sharing a room I wouldn’t have been able to bring Phillipo back to my hotel without leaving her stranded. My relationship with Philipo was destine to end that night; my relationship with Brenda will last a lifetime. The choice was easy…okay, maybe it wasn’t easy but it wasn’t impossibly difficult.
So I extricated myself from Phillipo’s arms, pulled Brenda away from her well meaning tormentor and my girlfriend and I went back to our hotel where we passed out alone in our respective beds. The next day I swallowed several Advil and mentally recounted the previous evening. “You know Brenda, I think Phillipo was pretty young.”
Brenda scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“How old do you think he was; 25, 26?”
“Maybe in 5 years Kyra.”
So he was legal, that’s a good thing. I would hate to have taken the soul of a 17-year-old. The funny thing is that in the States I have never so much as kissed a guy who was more than 5 years my junior (I’m currently 33). But that’s the wonderful thing about traveling. You get to do things that you wouldn’t normally do and then you get to go home and blog about it.
Ciao Bellas!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
This is one of those situations where a lot was lost in the translation. Based on the information above I assumed the whole event would be very casual and relaxed. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
This is how it went down: Mondadori sent a car to pick me up and take me to their offices. I was quickly introduced to a lot of different people whose names I’ll never remember and then whisked into the conference room. At that point I realized that this was no ordinary happy hour. Yes, there was food a drink available. There was also somewhere around 100 chairs set up facing a long thin table complete with little table microphones. That’s were I, along with some of the top people at Harlequin Mondadori, were going to be sitting while addressing the press. It was to be my very first full fledged press conference and I was totally taken unawares.
Have you ever seen a senate hearing? That’s what this looked like. I was ushered to my chair and a translator took her place by my side. Oh and the press definitely showed up. The crowd was comprised of reporters from Cosmopolitan Italia, Marie Clare Italia and God only knows how many Italian newspaper journalists. I have no idea if they actually reported on what they saw and heard or if they just came for the free wine but whatever the case may be they were there and they apparently expected me to say something.
The presentation started off with a Harlequin Mondadori representative telling everyone about their imprints and the changing literary marketplace. I kept my eyes glued to the speaker as the translator whispered her words in my ear. Then the representative turned to me and said (in Italian) “Now American author Kyra Davis will be telling us about her book, Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino.”
In America authors are lucky if one reporter wants to hear what we have to say. To have an entire room full of reporters gathered together ready to listen to me was a tad overwhelming. But I managed to pull it together and I think I came across fairly well. I could tell that Stefano was happy with me as was the president of Mondadori so that’s good enough for me. My translator was spectacular and there isn't a doubt in my mind that she translated everything I said perfectly (which is no easy feat, particularly when humor is involved).
Afterwards I autographed a few books and then mingled with the attendants. I can honestly say that I really liked every single person I met there, especially those who worked for or with Mondadori. I’m truly lucky to have the opportunity to work with them. And you want to know the best part? They told me that if I was willing to come back next year to promote the sequel to Sex, Murder And A Double Latte (which will be titled Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights) all I have to do is tell them what Italian city I want to visit and they’ll set it up for me! How fabulous is that?
Anyway when the whole thing was over I met up with Brenda who was waiting for me in our hotel lobby. It was our last night in Italy and there were two things that we wanted to do: 1) get some gelato 2) go out to a club and/or a bar and experience the nightlife of Milan.
I asked Phillipo (a very cute guy who was working the front desk) where we should go to do these things. He was very helpful and gave us the names and locations of a few places.
Obviously we started with the important part of the evening--the gelato. After that we went to Corso Como (a hip little area filled with bars, restaurants and nightclubs). When we walked into a dance club both Brenda and I were literally snatched up by men and pulled onto the dance floor. I tried to keep an eye on Brenda and vice versa but at one point I lost track of her. I tried to make my way to the restroom thinking there was a good chance she was there but this was no easy feat since every time I took two steps a different guy tried to engage me in a dance and/or make-out session. And that’s when I saw Phillipo who coincidentally ended up going to the exact dance club he had recommended to us. He helped me find Brenda and then I spent the rest of the evening dancing with him and God can that man dance! Never in my life have I had that much fun on a dance floor. At one point he actually lifted me into the air and then dipped me so low that my head almost touched the ground. It was the perfect finale for my Italian adventure. Brenda was dancing with Phillipo’s friend but unfortunately they were not getting along quite as well. We all headed outside after a little while and that’s when Phillipo gave me his soul. He seemed so sincere about it and he was so incredibly cute and his kisses were amazingly sweet and tender. I seriously contemplated taking things to the next level. But there were two problems:
1) I don't have any moral issues with one night stands but I’ve yet to have one. The reason can be summed up in two words “Cape Fear.” Those of you who’ve seen the movie know what scene I’m thinking of. Illeana Douglas who’s been drinking way too much meets seemingly harmless but actually psychotic Robert De Niro in a bar and then brings him back to her bedroom and what starts out as a consensual casual tryst turns into something ugly and very violent. I honestly think Phillipo is a good guy and I was incredibly charmed by him but I was in a foreign country, I had been drinking and I had only hung out with him for one night.
2) This is probably the bigger of the two problems: I don’t believe in abandoning my friends. Brenda wasn’t happy with the guy who was at that time glued to her side and since she and I were sharing a room I wouldn’t have been able to bring Phillipo back to my hotel without leaving her stranded. My relationship with Philipo was destine to end that night; my relationship with Brenda will last a lifetime. The choice was easy…okay, maybe it wasn’t easy but it wasn’t impossibly difficult.
So I extricated myself from Phillipo’s arms, pulled Brenda away from her well meaning tormentor and my girlfriend and I went back to our hotel where we passed out alone in our respective beds. The next day I swallowed several Advil and mentally recounted the previous evening. “You know Brenda, I think Phillipo was pretty young.”
Brenda scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“How old do you think he was; 25, 26?”
“Maybe in 5 years Kyra.”
So he was legal, that’s a good thing. I would hate to have taken the soul of a 17-year-old. The funny thing is that in the States I have never so much as kissed a guy who was more than 5 years my junior (I’m currently 33). But that’s the wonderful thing about traveling. You get to do things that you wouldn’t normally do and then you get to go home and blog about it.
Ciao Bellas!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Milano
Okay I’m back. Thanks for giving me a night to pull it together. I drank my blueberry tea, I watched half of Boston Legal (kind of a silly episode but I wasn’t looking for major intellectual stimulation) and now after spending my morning at the dentist (can you believe that I’m still getting cavities at 33?) I’m ready to talk about Italy.
Let’s start with the train ride up to Milan. Brenda and I shared a sleeper car with a woman and her two daughters. My guess is that the children were about 8 and 13, the 13 year old (Luccia) being the only one in the family who spoke any English and it was minimal. They were all very pleasant although Luccia was clearly sick with the flu or the like which unfortunately was something the two of us had in common. It just figures that I would get sick right before arriving in Milan where the bulk of my book publicity was to take place, but I digress. Luccia’s mother doted on her by covering her up with a blanket and providing her with a nice warm cup of….espresso. As a general rule Americans don’t think of coffee as something they should give to their young children. Furthermore the only time that I don’t crave caffeine is when I’m sick. When miserable I prefer to be spacey rather than hyper alert, but then again I’m just a dumb American who has probably been unduly influenced by puritanical ideals so what do I know? Anyway at one point Luccia asked me if I was on vacation. I doubted that either of us knew enough of one another’s language for me to verbally explain to her that I was on a book tour so rather than try I pulled Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino out of my suitcase and showed her the photo of me on the back.
I swear to God you would have thought I had just told her I was a rock star. Her eyes lit up and she asked me as many questions as her English would allow. I figured that the nice thing to do would be to write a personalized inscription in the book, autograph it and give it to her. It really was a small gesture but once again Luccia’s reaction was huge. She actually clapped her hands together, stood up and pulled me into a warm hug. Keep in mind that unlike many Californians Italians don’t hug every stranger they meet on the street. When they do hug someone it means something. She even went out to the dining car and brought me back an espresso to “help (me) get better.” I accepted the drink but to be honest it was Luccia’s enthusiasm and kindness that improved my mood.
Anyway when we arrived in Milan it was pouring down rain. There was thunder, lightning…the works. Nothing like having the flu and being soaking wet. My publisher had told me that I was going to be staying at The Jolly Hotel in Piazza Della Republica. According to their brochures they are the largest hotel chain in Italy which makes the poster they have behind the front desk all the more amusing. It has a picture of the hotel and written across the bottom in big bold letters are the words, "The Jolly Hotel Has Never Looked So British." Usually while traveling abroad I take pains to avoid American hotels and restaurants. After all, I get to have the American experience all the time, why would I want to try to imitate it in Italy? But on the other hand I found that the idea of having a British experience in Italy rather amusing.
After a day of rest and a lot of cold medication I managed to pull myself together for the book signings. Paola Pravsdelli (Marketing Manager of Harlequin Mondadori) and Stefano (head of Sales for Harlequin Mondadori) met me at my hotel and took me to three different bookstores within the city. For the most part Paola acted as a translator whenever I needed to talk to the bookstore employees or customers but at the second to last bookstore the manager wanted to talk to me directly despite his weak grasp of the English language. Here’s the thing; when there’s a language barrier it’s hard to subtly lead up to a subject. So seemingly out of the blue he turned to me, creased his forehead and asked, “Do you like President Bush?”
Despite the fact that I have strong opinions about the Bush administration I’m usually pretty good at side stepping this question while promoting my novel. Nothing can screw up a chick lit book signing like a political debate. However his question took me so off guard that it triggered a knee jerk reaction and I answered quickly and emphatically (perhaps a little too emphatically) with a one word answer. Fortunately I think my answer was the correct one (in his eyes) and Paola later told me that my honest response was refreshing and helped undermine the stereotype that chick lit authors don’t know anything about politics. So for the record: I do know something about politics and if you want to know how I feel about Bush and why you can either email me privately or go to Milan and ask the bookstore managers.
When I was done signing the stock Paola made an announcement to the group. “Kyra and I are going shopping for ten minutes.”
This was news to me but I didn’t object. I mean not shopping while in Milan is like not gambling while in Vegas. So I happily accompanied Paola to her favorite clothing store where ten minutes quickly turned into 20 and by the time we were done I had about 100 less euros to keep track of.
Okay, flash forward to dinner with Stefano and Paola at La Dolce Vita Caffé. The food was amazing and I ate everything they put in front of me. Stefano and Paola were thrilled since apparently the other American authors they had treated out in the past had declined to finish their meals. My hunch is that they were trying to distance themselves from the gluttonous American stereotype but in doing so they unknowingly diminished the pleasure of their hosts. Fortunately for them I had no intention of giving a negative stereotype the power to prevent me from consuming a divine meal. When we had finished Stefano beamed and threw up his hands, “You eat like an Italian!”
It was a great compliment, particularly since Italians eat in a much healthier manner than most Americans. They don’t snack throughout the day on junk food, their servings are small and their sauces are light. They don’t indulge all the time but when they do they do it right. Most shun Coca-Cola Light and opt instead to have a very occasional regular Coke. If they’re going to have a cappuccino they’re going to use whole milk not the 1%-fat stuff we have here or (God forbid) Soy Milk. And because I did eat like an Italian while in Italy I managed to lose four pounds.
But I’m getting off track. Before dinner ended I asked Stefano what authors sold well in Italy. He sat back and thought about it before rattling off a list. “Michael Connelly, Sophie Kinsella, Michael Moore, John Grisham…”
I held up my hand to stop him. “I’m sorry, but did you just say Michael Moore?”
Stefano nodded.
“Michael Moore,” I said again, a little more skeptically.
“Yes, Michael Moore of Fahrenheit 9/11.”
“Oh…so books about American politics sell well here?”
“Yes, very well,” then Stefano hesitated before adding “as long as the author does not like Bush. The less they like him the better their sales.”
If that's true then Moore's sales must be higher than Dan Brown's and J.K. Rowling's put togehter.
This post is getting very long and I still have so much more to tell you. So I guess it will take me one more blog to wrap up my Italian trip. My mother has my son tomorrow afternoon so baring any unforeseen circumstances (which I know there’s been a lot of lately) I’ll post more tomorrow.
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Let’s start with the train ride up to Milan. Brenda and I shared a sleeper car with a woman and her two daughters. My guess is that the children were about 8 and 13, the 13 year old (Luccia) being the only one in the family who spoke any English and it was minimal. They were all very pleasant although Luccia was clearly sick with the flu or the like which unfortunately was something the two of us had in common. It just figures that I would get sick right before arriving in Milan where the bulk of my book publicity was to take place, but I digress. Luccia’s mother doted on her by covering her up with a blanket and providing her with a nice warm cup of….espresso. As a general rule Americans don’t think of coffee as something they should give to their young children. Furthermore the only time that I don’t crave caffeine is when I’m sick. When miserable I prefer to be spacey rather than hyper alert, but then again I’m just a dumb American who has probably been unduly influenced by puritanical ideals so what do I know? Anyway at one point Luccia asked me if I was on vacation. I doubted that either of us knew enough of one another’s language for me to verbally explain to her that I was on a book tour so rather than try I pulled Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino out of my suitcase and showed her the photo of me on the back.
I swear to God you would have thought I had just told her I was a rock star. Her eyes lit up and she asked me as many questions as her English would allow. I figured that the nice thing to do would be to write a personalized inscription in the book, autograph it and give it to her. It really was a small gesture but once again Luccia’s reaction was huge. She actually clapped her hands together, stood up and pulled me into a warm hug. Keep in mind that unlike many Californians Italians don’t hug every stranger they meet on the street. When they do hug someone it means something. She even went out to the dining car and brought me back an espresso to “help (me) get better.” I accepted the drink but to be honest it was Luccia’s enthusiasm and kindness that improved my mood.
Anyway when we arrived in Milan it was pouring down rain. There was thunder, lightning…the works. Nothing like having the flu and being soaking wet. My publisher had told me that I was going to be staying at The Jolly Hotel in Piazza Della Republica. According to their brochures they are the largest hotel chain in Italy which makes the poster they have behind the front desk all the more amusing. It has a picture of the hotel and written across the bottom in big bold letters are the words, "The Jolly Hotel Has Never Looked So British." Usually while traveling abroad I take pains to avoid American hotels and restaurants. After all, I get to have the American experience all the time, why would I want to try to imitate it in Italy? But on the other hand I found that the idea of having a British experience in Italy rather amusing.
After a day of rest and a lot of cold medication I managed to pull myself together for the book signings. Paola Pravsdelli (Marketing Manager of Harlequin Mondadori) and Stefano (head of Sales for Harlequin Mondadori) met me at my hotel and took me to three different bookstores within the city. For the most part Paola acted as a translator whenever I needed to talk to the bookstore employees or customers but at the second to last bookstore the manager wanted to talk to me directly despite his weak grasp of the English language. Here’s the thing; when there’s a language barrier it’s hard to subtly lead up to a subject. So seemingly out of the blue he turned to me, creased his forehead and asked, “Do you like President Bush?”
Despite the fact that I have strong opinions about the Bush administration I’m usually pretty good at side stepping this question while promoting my novel. Nothing can screw up a chick lit book signing like a political debate. However his question took me so off guard that it triggered a knee jerk reaction and I answered quickly and emphatically (perhaps a little too emphatically) with a one word answer. Fortunately I think my answer was the correct one (in his eyes) and Paola later told me that my honest response was refreshing and helped undermine the stereotype that chick lit authors don’t know anything about politics. So for the record: I do know something about politics and if you want to know how I feel about Bush and why you can either email me privately or go to Milan and ask the bookstore managers.
When I was done signing the stock Paola made an announcement to the group. “Kyra and I are going shopping for ten minutes.”
This was news to me but I didn’t object. I mean not shopping while in Milan is like not gambling while in Vegas. So I happily accompanied Paola to her favorite clothing store where ten minutes quickly turned into 20 and by the time we were done I had about 100 less euros to keep track of.
Okay, flash forward to dinner with Stefano and Paola at La Dolce Vita Caffé. The food was amazing and I ate everything they put in front of me. Stefano and Paola were thrilled since apparently the other American authors they had treated out in the past had declined to finish their meals. My hunch is that they were trying to distance themselves from the gluttonous American stereotype but in doing so they unknowingly diminished the pleasure of their hosts. Fortunately for them I had no intention of giving a negative stereotype the power to prevent me from consuming a divine meal. When we had finished Stefano beamed and threw up his hands, “You eat like an Italian!”
It was a great compliment, particularly since Italians eat in a much healthier manner than most Americans. They don’t snack throughout the day on junk food, their servings are small and their sauces are light. They don’t indulge all the time but when they do they do it right. Most shun Coca-Cola Light and opt instead to have a very occasional regular Coke. If they’re going to have a cappuccino they’re going to use whole milk not the 1%-fat stuff we have here or (God forbid) Soy Milk. And because I did eat like an Italian while in Italy I managed to lose four pounds.
But I’m getting off track. Before dinner ended I asked Stefano what authors sold well in Italy. He sat back and thought about it before rattling off a list. “Michael Connelly, Sophie Kinsella, Michael Moore, John Grisham…”
I held up my hand to stop him. “I’m sorry, but did you just say Michael Moore?”
Stefano nodded.
“Michael Moore,” I said again, a little more skeptically.
“Yes, Michael Moore of Fahrenheit 9/11.”
“Oh…so books about American politics sell well here?”
“Yes, very well,” then Stefano hesitated before adding “as long as the author does not like Bush. The less they like him the better their sales.”
If that's true then Moore's sales must be higher than Dan Brown's and J.K. Rowling's put togehter.
This post is getting very long and I still have so much more to tell you. So I guess it will take me one more blog to wrap up my Italian trip. My mother has my son tomorrow afternoon so baring any unforeseen circumstances (which I know there’s been a lot of lately) I’ll post more tomorrow.
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Can I Have One More Day?
On Sunday I said I was going to post the last details about my Italian trip today…I lied. I didn’t mean to lie but the last few days have been very special in a I’ve-had-to-deal-with-the-ex kind of way. Everything’s fine now (at least it is for me) but I’m emotionally drained and I really need to make myself a cup of blueberry tea and watch an episode of Boston Legal or something along those lines. I’ll do my best to post about Italy tomorrow and I promise it will be worth the wait. I’ll tell you all about Cosmopolitan Italia, book signings and a cute young Italian guy named Phillipo who gave me his soul. I didn’t accept the gift seeing that his soul was one of his most attractive qualities but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Sunday, October 16, 2005
Matera
Yes I know, I said I was going to post on Friday, please forgive my tardiness. A close friend of mine is going through a bit of a crisis and I put some things temporarily aside (this blog being one of them) so that I might be there to provide her with all the things a woman needs during a crisis: a friend, flowers to cheer her up and a few stiff cocktails to mellow her out.
Anyway back to Italy: Remember when I said that Rome was a romantic city? Well Matera may very well be the embodiment of romance. First of all it has an amazing history. The area is renowned for it’s Sassi (the rock-hewn caves that were dug into the calcareous walls of a spectacularly beautiful, deep gorge) that have been inhabited by humans for around 350,000 years. You can see evidence of the people who lived there during the Paleolithic times, the Ancient Roman times, the Baroque period and so on. People (including the Romans and early Christians) lived in caves and when the priests and monks took up residence in the city they turned many of the caves into churches and painted beautiful Byzantine and Latin frescoes on the walls. If you look carefully at the arched doorways that were carved out of the rock you can see fossils from millions of years ago. But that’s just what makes the city historically interesting. I haven’t really gotten to the romance part.
All the homes in Matera are built out of the same rock that literally comes out of the mountain. At night you can see the glow of the lights from within the structures and it is a breathtaking sight. It’s like walking back in time. I actually ate at a restaurant that was built in 1100 AD. And then there was my B&B, the Sax Barisano. It was truly enchanting. The minute I walked into the room and I saw the domed stone ceiling, the private courtyard, the patio with the view of the 1200 year old church and the king sized bed that was placed on a loft that could be reached by a rustic staircase with an iron cast banister I literally gasped. It’s too bad Brenda and I aren’t lesbians because the room was obviously made for lovers.
As for the Woman’s fiction Festival, it was wonderful. I spoke on a panel that first day with 6 other authors in a beautifully appointed and very modern looking auditorium that was basically a converted underground man-made cave. During the following four days of the festival I was interviewed by many different Italian newspaper and television reporters (with the help of a translator). It’s odd being interviewed via translator. You are talking to the reporter, making eye contact with them and the like all the while knowing that he or she has no idea what you’re talking about and won’t know until the person standing to your right says it in Italian (and you just have to trust that the translator got it right). It took a while for me to get used to it but by the time I reached Milan I had it all figured out…sort of.
At one point during the conference Brenda and I met a tour guide/teacher Michele (pronounced Mic-Kay-Lay, and yes, it’s a guy’s name). Michele is one of those people who you can’t not like. He was an economics major and graduated at the top of his class but despite the urging of his teachers he chose the “life of romance.” Meaning he wanted to be in Matera, teaching people about its history and working to protect it from developers who would level some of the historic buildings in order to make room for modern tourist attractions that are cheaper to maintain. He is also a piano teacher and his dream is to be able to own one of the caves that are, oddly enough, available for purchase. The caves overlooking the gorge boast amazing views of the mountains and skyline. If Michele had his way he would convert one into a sort of piano bar. “Can you imagine?” He asked, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “People could come and sip wine and I could play the piano while gazing up at the moon.”
Michele, Brenda and I became instant friends (and I’m delightled to say that Michele and I have continued our friendship via email). He is a devote Catholic and when he found out I was Jewish he was thrilled. “This is fantastic; you know our Pope, he apologized to you.”
I laughed and nodded, “I have heard that. So I guess we can be friends now.”
“Yes, yes, together we can save the world!”
I’m not sure I follow his logic (and I suspect that a bit was lost in the translation) but I was willing to go with it. Basically I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool it would be to listen to someone play classical piano in a dwelling that dated back hundreds of thousands of years and was once inhabited by the ancient Romans and later Byzantine monks.
I could go on and on about Matera but I actually have to do some work on my upcoming Sophie books. I promise to tell you about the last part of my trip in my next blog which I will write by night Tuesday at the latest—honest!
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Anyway back to Italy: Remember when I said that Rome was a romantic city? Well Matera may very well be the embodiment of romance. First of all it has an amazing history. The area is renowned for it’s Sassi (the rock-hewn caves that were dug into the calcareous walls of a spectacularly beautiful, deep gorge) that have been inhabited by humans for around 350,000 years. You can see evidence of the people who lived there during the Paleolithic times, the Ancient Roman times, the Baroque period and so on. People (including the Romans and early Christians) lived in caves and when the priests and monks took up residence in the city they turned many of the caves into churches and painted beautiful Byzantine and Latin frescoes on the walls. If you look carefully at the arched doorways that were carved out of the rock you can see fossils from millions of years ago. But that’s just what makes the city historically interesting. I haven’t really gotten to the romance part.
All the homes in Matera are built out of the same rock that literally comes out of the mountain. At night you can see the glow of the lights from within the structures and it is a breathtaking sight. It’s like walking back in time. I actually ate at a restaurant that was built in 1100 AD. And then there was my B&B, the Sax Barisano. It was truly enchanting. The minute I walked into the room and I saw the domed stone ceiling, the private courtyard, the patio with the view of the 1200 year old church and the king sized bed that was placed on a loft that could be reached by a rustic staircase with an iron cast banister I literally gasped. It’s too bad Brenda and I aren’t lesbians because the room was obviously made for lovers.
As for the Woman’s fiction Festival, it was wonderful. I spoke on a panel that first day with 6 other authors in a beautifully appointed and very modern looking auditorium that was basically a converted underground man-made cave. During the following four days of the festival I was interviewed by many different Italian newspaper and television reporters (with the help of a translator). It’s odd being interviewed via translator. You are talking to the reporter, making eye contact with them and the like all the while knowing that he or she has no idea what you’re talking about and won’t know until the person standing to your right says it in Italian (and you just have to trust that the translator got it right). It took a while for me to get used to it but by the time I reached Milan I had it all figured out…sort of.
At one point during the conference Brenda and I met a tour guide/teacher Michele (pronounced Mic-Kay-Lay, and yes, it’s a guy’s name). Michele is one of those people who you can’t not like. He was an economics major and graduated at the top of his class but despite the urging of his teachers he chose the “life of romance.” Meaning he wanted to be in Matera, teaching people about its history and working to protect it from developers who would level some of the historic buildings in order to make room for modern tourist attractions that are cheaper to maintain. He is also a piano teacher and his dream is to be able to own one of the caves that are, oddly enough, available for purchase. The caves overlooking the gorge boast amazing views of the mountains and skyline. If Michele had his way he would convert one into a sort of piano bar. “Can you imagine?” He asked, his eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “People could come and sip wine and I could play the piano while gazing up at the moon.”
Michele, Brenda and I became instant friends (and I’m delightled to say that Michele and I have continued our friendship via email). He is a devote Catholic and when he found out I was Jewish he was thrilled. “This is fantastic; you know our Pope, he apologized to you.”
I laughed and nodded, “I have heard that. So I guess we can be friends now.”
“Yes, yes, together we can save the world!”
I’m not sure I follow his logic (and I suspect that a bit was lost in the translation) but I was willing to go with it. Basically I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool it would be to listen to someone play classical piano in a dwelling that dated back hundreds of thousands of years and was once inhabited by the ancient Romans and later Byzantine monks.
I could go on and on about Matera but I actually have to do some work on my upcoming Sophie books. I promise to tell you about the last part of my trip in my next blog which I will write by night Tuesday at the latest—honest!
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino
Another aside before I tell you more about Italy. I just got some preliminary sales figures from my publishing house for Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. They were good...no scratch that, they were fantastic. The reviews and press that I have received have been great but nothing is as effective as word of mouth recommendations from readers. So once again, thank you for all of your support and thank you for recommending my book to your friends. None of this would be possible without you.
Now back to my European adventures starting with my first trip to an Italian bookstore.
Brenda and I stumbled upon it while wandering around central Rome. I stepped inside and there it was, Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino!!!! It was facing out on a shelf right up front! I was so excited it was all I could do not to start squealing and jumping up and down. Okay, maybe I did jump a little because the employees noticed. They got caught up in my excitement and two of the guys who worked at the store ended up buying the book and having me autograph it for them. One even poured Brenda and me a glass of wine to celebrate. Apparently my timing was impeccable because the book had just arrived in that day’s shipment.
Now flash forward to the next day which was my last day in Rome. Brenda and I had booked tickets on the internet for a Euro train to take us up to Matera that night. Here’s a word of warning for those of you who might be traveling in Italy in the near future: the internet hasn’t entirely caught on over there. That’s not to say that people of the younger generation don’t use it for emails and the like but it’s rare that someone buys merchandise online or say…a train ticket. In fact it’s so rare that if you do buy a train ticket online many of the people who work at the train station will be so baffled that they won’t know how to help you.
This probably would have been a minor problem if Brenda and I hadn’t lost track of time the afternoon before our trip while drinking grappa and flirting with a cute waiter. So basically what I’m saying is that we missed our train by literally four minutes. We stood in line with a whole bunch of other people who missed their train all of whom were getting rescheduled without a problem. However when we got to the booth the woman told us that since we bought our tickets on the internet we would have to go stand in “the main line.”
Brenda and I went to the “main line” and after standing in it for a good fifteen minutes the woman at that booth told us that since we bought our tickets on the internet we would have to call the number on a little slip of paper she was handing us.
Okay, now we’re frustrated but we go to a pay phone to call the number as we’ve been told to do. The phone doesn’t work. We go to another payphone. That phone doesn’t work either. By this point Brenda and I are jamming euros, and phone cards into any payphone we can find in a desperate attempt to get booked on another train.
That’s when Ivano showed up. I think his job was “customer service” for the train station. Or maybe he worked for a private company that gave out tourist information. Or maybe he was just some random guy who likes to rescue damsels in distress. Who the hell knows? The point is he helped us. He tried to make the phone work and when he couldn’t do that he dialed the number we had been given into his cell phone. Now here’s the kicker:
The customer service agent he got on the phone told him that since so much time had passed (over an hour by that point) we wouldn’t be able to transfer our ticket. Of course the only reason so much time had passed was because they kept sending us to the wrong line but that was apparently a moot point.
But Ivano wasn’t going to accept that answer. First he helped us get a ticket on a train that was leaving later that night. He also helped us check our bags at the train station baggage hold and finally he argued with the train station employees until he got us a refund for the first ticket.
Beyond being incredibly helpful Ivano was also a lot of fun to hang out with. He apparently studied accounting in Southern California for a while but left because of all the restrictions put on smokers. “I do not like the dictatorship,” he explained. “Here in Italy you can smoke where you like, drive as fast as you like and bring alcohol out onto the streets if you like. The police never stop you.”
Brenda and I exchanged looks which Ivano noted. He waved his hand in the air impatiently. “Yes, okay, they stop you. But only to pick you up.”
He was also insanely flirtatious. Brenda made a comment about his being forward because he was Italian but Ivano claimed that his interest in us had nothing to do with his nationality. “I believe in honesty,” he explained. “Yes, I want to be your friend but I would also like to take you both to bed. I don’t know if I can handle both of you but if you let me I will try.”
We didn’t let him. But I did buy him one of my books from the bookstore in the train station (they actually had it in the window!) which he seemed to appreciate.
In the end we got on an overnight train going to Matera and once we got there the book publicity stuff really started. But I’ll tell you more about that on Friday.
For those of you who are Jewish: L'Shana Tova and if your fasting may you're fast be light.
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Now back to my European adventures starting with my first trip to an Italian bookstore.
Brenda and I stumbled upon it while wandering around central Rome. I stepped inside and there it was, Sesso, Omicidi E Cappuccino!!!! It was facing out on a shelf right up front! I was so excited it was all I could do not to start squealing and jumping up and down. Okay, maybe I did jump a little because the employees noticed. They got caught up in my excitement and two of the guys who worked at the store ended up buying the book and having me autograph it for them. One even poured Brenda and me a glass of wine to celebrate. Apparently my timing was impeccable because the book had just arrived in that day’s shipment.
Now flash forward to the next day which was my last day in Rome. Brenda and I had booked tickets on the internet for a Euro train to take us up to Matera that night. Here’s a word of warning for those of you who might be traveling in Italy in the near future: the internet hasn’t entirely caught on over there. That’s not to say that people of the younger generation don’t use it for emails and the like but it’s rare that someone buys merchandise online or say…a train ticket. In fact it’s so rare that if you do buy a train ticket online many of the people who work at the train station will be so baffled that they won’t know how to help you.
This probably would have been a minor problem if Brenda and I hadn’t lost track of time the afternoon before our trip while drinking grappa and flirting with a cute waiter. So basically what I’m saying is that we missed our train by literally four minutes. We stood in line with a whole bunch of other people who missed their train all of whom were getting rescheduled without a problem. However when we got to the booth the woman told us that since we bought our tickets on the internet we would have to go stand in “the main line.”
Brenda and I went to the “main line” and after standing in it for a good fifteen minutes the woman at that booth told us that since we bought our tickets on the internet we would have to call the number on a little slip of paper she was handing us.
Okay, now we’re frustrated but we go to a pay phone to call the number as we’ve been told to do. The phone doesn’t work. We go to another payphone. That phone doesn’t work either. By this point Brenda and I are jamming euros, and phone cards into any payphone we can find in a desperate attempt to get booked on another train.
That’s when Ivano showed up. I think his job was “customer service” for the train station. Or maybe he worked for a private company that gave out tourist information. Or maybe he was just some random guy who likes to rescue damsels in distress. Who the hell knows? The point is he helped us. He tried to make the phone work and when he couldn’t do that he dialed the number we had been given into his cell phone. Now here’s the kicker:
The customer service agent he got on the phone told him that since so much time had passed (over an hour by that point) we wouldn’t be able to transfer our ticket. Of course the only reason so much time had passed was because they kept sending us to the wrong line but that was apparently a moot point.
But Ivano wasn’t going to accept that answer. First he helped us get a ticket on a train that was leaving later that night. He also helped us check our bags at the train station baggage hold and finally he argued with the train station employees until he got us a refund for the first ticket.
Beyond being incredibly helpful Ivano was also a lot of fun to hang out with. He apparently studied accounting in Southern California for a while but left because of all the restrictions put on smokers. “I do not like the dictatorship,” he explained. “Here in Italy you can smoke where you like, drive as fast as you like and bring alcohol out onto the streets if you like. The police never stop you.”
Brenda and I exchanged looks which Ivano noted. He waved his hand in the air impatiently. “Yes, okay, they stop you. But only to pick you up.”
He was also insanely flirtatious. Brenda made a comment about his being forward because he was Italian but Ivano claimed that his interest in us had nothing to do with his nationality. “I believe in honesty,” he explained. “Yes, I want to be your friend but I would also like to take you both to bed. I don’t know if I can handle both of you but if you let me I will try.”
We didn’t let him. But I did buy him one of my books from the bookstore in the train station (they actually had it in the window!) which he seemed to appreciate.
In the end we got on an overnight train going to Matera and once we got there the book publicity stuff really started. But I’ll tell you more about that on Friday.
For those of you who are Jewish: L'Shana Tova and if your fasting may you're fast be light.
Ciao!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Roma
Before I tell you more about Rome a quick aside: Yesterday I went to the Northern California Independent Booksellers Association (NCIBA) Tradeshow in Oakland where I was invited to sign copies of Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. The event bore a few similarities to Book Expo America (BEA) and a lot of interesting differences. For one thing BEA is 1000 times bigger and unlike BEA, NCIBA’s show has a mellow quality that is reflective of Northern California. But what really interested me was the people who came to have me sign a book for them. BEA took place a month after my book’s release and most of the people who came to have me sign were booksellers who had read my blog or seen my novel featured in Cosmo or the like and wanted to see what the fuss was about. But now my book’s been out for five months (God, could it be that long?) and most of the people at this tradeshow had either read my book or were there on behalf of a friend who had and wanted a signed copy. Those who hadn’t read it had had it recommended to them by a friend. There were several people who told me that they were “excited about meeting (me).” It was wonderful and surreal at the same time. To be able to bring people enjoyment by doing something that I love….well, how can I not be grateful for my incredibly good fortune? I honestly feel blessed.
Okay, back to Rome. Once Brenda and I took a brief nap we headed out of our hotel room to explore. By the way, despite the difficulties we had over the phone the hotel I was staying at (Hotel Primus Roma) was great and in person the people at the front desk were extremely helpful. Anyway Brenda and I hit the streets right at the beginning of La passeggiata, a deservedly renowned daily Italian social custom. Basically the idea is that everyone is supposed to venture out with their family and friends for an early evening stroll. Obviously there’s a lot of walking involved but there’s also a lot of socializing and many people choose to spend the time sipping wine or espresso in one of the hundreds of cafes around.
We were staying just a few blocks away from the Aurelian Wall (a wall built around the city for military defense reasons by Emporor Aurelian in the third century) and The Pyramid of Cestius which is a funerary monument built around 12 BC (shortly after Rome had conquered Egypt and fallen in love with its culture) as a tomb for Caius Cestius.
Rome is by far the most vivacious, romantic and beautiful city I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Over all the people are friendly, welcoming and fun to be with and the architecture…well the word spectacular doesn’t really do it justice. I mean you walk along these cobble stone streets lined with little restaurants and cafes that were built in the twentieth century and then across the street there is a magnificent 16th century church and on the corner are a bunch of Roman ruins. Then you turn that corner and there’s the flippin’ Coliseum!
On the other hand you probably shouldn’t cross the street unless you have a good life insurance policy. If you don’t want to die you should learn the pedestrian rules: Roman drivers expect pedestrians to walk in a straight line at a consistent pace. That way they can drive around you (they don’t actually stop). However if you’re a tourist who crosses the street in a diagonal or who rushes across the road because there seem to be several Italian motorist trying to kill you you’re going to screw up the whole system. It’s kind of like that old video game, Frogger except in this case it’s the cars that get to try to miss the frog rather than the other way around.
Another thing that caught my attention was how affectionate the men were with one another. They often kiss each other on the cheek in greeting and on more than one occasion I saw men put their arms around their male friend’s shoulders or waist while engaged in a deep and seemingly emotional conversation. In the States guys shy away from such public displays of platonic affection because they’re afraid of being labeled Gay. If there’s one thing that Italian men are comfortable with it’s their sexuality. So if there friend is upset they put their arm around him to comfort him and if a female tourist walks by they remark on her physical attributes. Yes, they can be a bit aggressive, but in a playful way. Basically a non-Italian woman should expect to be honked at by one out of every three cars and you’re likely to hear countless suggestive comments and be approached by at least 3 or 4 men on the street on any given day. Italian women get attention too but it’s more subtle (probably because unlike female tourists they're not charmed by the idea of being objectified by their male counterparts).
This leads me to an interesting point; I was harassed (and I use that word lightly) less when I wandered off on my own then when I was with my friend. I figured out the reason for this fairly quickly. Brenda is a tall blonde woman with classic Californian good looks and when we’re together we are usually engaged in a conversation that is predictably conducted in English. We are clearly tourists. However when I was alone the locals mistook me for being Italian. Even when I was with Brenda this mistake was occasionally made. People were always addressing me in Italian and expressing surprise or dismay when it became clear that I had no idea what they were saying (unless of course they were rattling off one of the 5 phrases I learned from my Berlitz CDs). Then every once in a while a Spanish tourist would spot me, realize that I wasn’t Italian and come over to ask me a question in Spanish. I know this shouldn’t bother me but every time someone addresses me in their non-English native tongue with the assumption that we speak a common language I feel like a fraud. I know that’s silly since I’m obviously not trying to look like an Italian, a Spaniard, a Mexican or a Brazilian but whoever said that feelings were rational. So I’ve made a decision. I’m going to try to learn all the languages of the countries of which I am frequently mistaken for being a citizen of. Well…maybe not Portuguese, but definitely Spanish and Italian.
Anyway there is a lot more to tell but this is a blog not a novel so I’ll stop here and give you more details tomorrow.
Ciao Bellas!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Okay, back to Rome. Once Brenda and I took a brief nap we headed out of our hotel room to explore. By the way, despite the difficulties we had over the phone the hotel I was staying at (Hotel Primus Roma) was great and in person the people at the front desk were extremely helpful. Anyway Brenda and I hit the streets right at the beginning of La passeggiata, a deservedly renowned daily Italian social custom. Basically the idea is that everyone is supposed to venture out with their family and friends for an early evening stroll. Obviously there’s a lot of walking involved but there’s also a lot of socializing and many people choose to spend the time sipping wine or espresso in one of the hundreds of cafes around.
We were staying just a few blocks away from the Aurelian Wall (a wall built around the city for military defense reasons by Emporor Aurelian in the third century) and The Pyramid of Cestius which is a funerary monument built around 12 BC (shortly after Rome had conquered Egypt and fallen in love with its culture) as a tomb for Caius Cestius.
Rome is by far the most vivacious, romantic and beautiful city I have ever had the pleasure of visiting. Over all the people are friendly, welcoming and fun to be with and the architecture…well the word spectacular doesn’t really do it justice. I mean you walk along these cobble stone streets lined with little restaurants and cafes that were built in the twentieth century and then across the street there is a magnificent 16th century church and on the corner are a bunch of Roman ruins. Then you turn that corner and there’s the flippin’ Coliseum!
On the other hand you probably shouldn’t cross the street unless you have a good life insurance policy. If you don’t want to die you should learn the pedestrian rules: Roman drivers expect pedestrians to walk in a straight line at a consistent pace. That way they can drive around you (they don’t actually stop). However if you’re a tourist who crosses the street in a diagonal or who rushes across the road because there seem to be several Italian motorist trying to kill you you’re going to screw up the whole system. It’s kind of like that old video game, Frogger except in this case it’s the cars that get to try to miss the frog rather than the other way around.
Another thing that caught my attention was how affectionate the men were with one another. They often kiss each other on the cheek in greeting and on more than one occasion I saw men put their arms around their male friend’s shoulders or waist while engaged in a deep and seemingly emotional conversation. In the States guys shy away from such public displays of platonic affection because they’re afraid of being labeled Gay. If there’s one thing that Italian men are comfortable with it’s their sexuality. So if there friend is upset they put their arm around him to comfort him and if a female tourist walks by they remark on her physical attributes. Yes, they can be a bit aggressive, but in a playful way. Basically a non-Italian woman should expect to be honked at by one out of every three cars and you’re likely to hear countless suggestive comments and be approached by at least 3 or 4 men on the street on any given day. Italian women get attention too but it’s more subtle (probably because unlike female tourists they're not charmed by the idea of being objectified by their male counterparts).
This leads me to an interesting point; I was harassed (and I use that word lightly) less when I wandered off on my own then when I was with my friend. I figured out the reason for this fairly quickly. Brenda is a tall blonde woman with classic Californian good looks and when we’re together we are usually engaged in a conversation that is predictably conducted in English. We are clearly tourists. However when I was alone the locals mistook me for being Italian. Even when I was with Brenda this mistake was occasionally made. People were always addressing me in Italian and expressing surprise or dismay when it became clear that I had no idea what they were saying (unless of course they were rattling off one of the 5 phrases I learned from my Berlitz CDs). Then every once in a while a Spanish tourist would spot me, realize that I wasn’t Italian and come over to ask me a question in Spanish. I know this shouldn’t bother me but every time someone addresses me in their non-English native tongue with the assumption that we speak a common language I feel like a fraud. I know that’s silly since I’m obviously not trying to look like an Italian, a Spaniard, a Mexican or a Brazilian but whoever said that feelings were rational. So I’ve made a decision. I’m going to try to learn all the languages of the countries of which I am frequently mistaken for being a citizen of. Well…maybe not Portuguese, but definitely Spanish and Italian.
Anyway there is a lot more to tell but this is a blog not a novel so I’ll stop here and give you more details tomorrow.
Ciao Bellas!
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Friday, October 07, 2005
Getting There Is No More than An Eighth Of The Fun
Okay I’m feeling marginally more rested.
My trip started off with what I took as a good omen. You see I was in the Dallas airport on a layover when I realized that I had left the book I was reading on the plane I had just departed. I had another eleven hours or so of traveling ahead of me and the idea of passing all that time without the benefit of reading material was extremely distasteful. So I went back to the gate and tried to convince the woman at the boarding desk to let me back on the plane to look for my book. I don’t think she was going to let me but the pilot and copilot walked by, overheard my plight and offered to escort me back on the plane. I found the book (yea!) and was extremely grateful. We all started chitchatting and at some point it came up that I was going to Italy to promote the Italian translation of my novel, Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. At that point the co-pilot said, “Wait a minute, wasn’t that book recently reviewed in The New York Times?”
It was just the coolest thing! In fact the coolness factor was all the more pronounced because while attending Member’s Night at the San Francisco Zoo with my son the night before a woman had stopped me and asked if I was the author she had seen on The Look For Less. I swear I’m beginning to feel like an honest to God D list celebrity! Okay, D- but it’s still pretty amazing.
Anyway we made it to London and then to Rome without too much fan fair. The challenges didn’t really start until we tried to figure out how to get to our hotel. We had been cautioned against taking cabs since the drivers often try to overcharge tourists so we thought we’d take a train. We called the hotel to find out which train would get us there. A woman answered and I asked her in Italian if she spoke English. Her answer was “no.” Not “No, una momento,” to indicate that she’d try to find someone who did speak English. Just no. Now normally I don’t expect people who live in non-English speaking countries to speak my language but when those people happen to work in a hotel that caters to travelers from overseas I expect them to at least make an effort to try to overcome the language barrier. But no. So I handed my phone over to my travel companion and friend Brenda who took a little Italian in collage. After trying to communicate with the front desk woman for a few minutes Brenda was finally able to get her to hand the phone over to a co-worker who spoke a little bit of English. He told us what train to get on and where the hotel was in relation to the train station which was great. Or at least it would have been great if the information had been correct. Anyway we got on the train and we rode, and we rode and we rode some more. Eventually I decided that we needed to get off and try to figure out where the hell we were. We decided that we had gone too far (although there was no actual proof of this), took the next train going the opposite direction and miraculously figured out which stop to get off at. By that time we had been riding the train back and forth for two hours. Anyway we were exhausted but thrilled to be at the right place and were walking through the train station toward the street when we were stopped by two police officers who demanded to see our passports.
For those of you who don’t know, the police don’t actually have the right to demand to see someone’s passport in a train station in Italy or any other western country. But they were rather instant and as a general rule I don’t like to argue with armed police officers while traveling in a foreign country so we handed our passports over for their inspection. Brenda muttered something about Nazi Germany but they didn’t appear to hear her which I think is a good thing since most Europeans really get touchy when you accuse them of being part of a fascist regime, defeated or otherwise. Plus we were in a part of Rome that was once a Jewish Ghetto so it just seemed like it would be best to avoid the N word. One of the officers called in our passports (or at least he spoke into a phone and appeared to be doing so) while the other questioned us. While this was going on another foreigner who had witnessed the whole thing assumed that they were checking everyone’s passport and tried to show the cops his. They barely glanced at it. I started to listen to the questions that Brenda and I were being asked with a new ear and suddenly a little light bulb went on over my head. The officers didn’t think we were terrorists or criminals. They thought we were cute American girls and they wanted to spend some time with us.
To be honest this irritated me a lot (Brenda skipped irritated and went straight to pissed). It’s not that we didn’t expect that the Italian men would live up to their reputations but for these guys to use their power as police officers to try to get us to give them our hotel information and travel itinerary is obnoxious as hell. They did offer to accompany us to our hotel so we “wouldn’t get lost” but we managed to dissuade them (although that took some doing).
I swear by the time I got to my hotel the idea of handing over my life savings to a crooked cab driver didn’t sound so bad. But it wasn’t long before things started improving…a lot.
However you’ll have to wait until Sunday to hear about that.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
My trip started off with what I took as a good omen. You see I was in the Dallas airport on a layover when I realized that I had left the book I was reading on the plane I had just departed. I had another eleven hours or so of traveling ahead of me and the idea of passing all that time without the benefit of reading material was extremely distasteful. So I went back to the gate and tried to convince the woman at the boarding desk to let me back on the plane to look for my book. I don’t think she was going to let me but the pilot and copilot walked by, overheard my plight and offered to escort me back on the plane. I found the book (yea!) and was extremely grateful. We all started chitchatting and at some point it came up that I was going to Italy to promote the Italian translation of my novel, Sex, Murder And A Double Latte. At that point the co-pilot said, “Wait a minute, wasn’t that book recently reviewed in The New York Times?”
It was just the coolest thing! In fact the coolness factor was all the more pronounced because while attending Member’s Night at the San Francisco Zoo with my son the night before a woman had stopped me and asked if I was the author she had seen on The Look For Less. I swear I’m beginning to feel like an honest to God D list celebrity! Okay, D- but it’s still pretty amazing.
Anyway we made it to London and then to Rome without too much fan fair. The challenges didn’t really start until we tried to figure out how to get to our hotel. We had been cautioned against taking cabs since the drivers often try to overcharge tourists so we thought we’d take a train. We called the hotel to find out which train would get us there. A woman answered and I asked her in Italian if she spoke English. Her answer was “no.” Not “No, una momento,” to indicate that she’d try to find someone who did speak English. Just no. Now normally I don’t expect people who live in non-English speaking countries to speak my language but when those people happen to work in a hotel that caters to travelers from overseas I expect them to at least make an effort to try to overcome the language barrier. But no. So I handed my phone over to my travel companion and friend Brenda who took a little Italian in collage. After trying to communicate with the front desk woman for a few minutes Brenda was finally able to get her to hand the phone over to a co-worker who spoke a little bit of English. He told us what train to get on and where the hotel was in relation to the train station which was great. Or at least it would have been great if the information had been correct. Anyway we got on the train and we rode, and we rode and we rode some more. Eventually I decided that we needed to get off and try to figure out where the hell we were. We decided that we had gone too far (although there was no actual proof of this), took the next train going the opposite direction and miraculously figured out which stop to get off at. By that time we had been riding the train back and forth for two hours. Anyway we were exhausted but thrilled to be at the right place and were walking through the train station toward the street when we were stopped by two police officers who demanded to see our passports.
For those of you who don’t know, the police don’t actually have the right to demand to see someone’s passport in a train station in Italy or any other western country. But they were rather instant and as a general rule I don’t like to argue with armed police officers while traveling in a foreign country so we handed our passports over for their inspection. Brenda muttered something about Nazi Germany but they didn’t appear to hear her which I think is a good thing since most Europeans really get touchy when you accuse them of being part of a fascist regime, defeated or otherwise. Plus we were in a part of Rome that was once a Jewish Ghetto so it just seemed like it would be best to avoid the N word. One of the officers called in our passports (or at least he spoke into a phone and appeared to be doing so) while the other questioned us. While this was going on another foreigner who had witnessed the whole thing assumed that they were checking everyone’s passport and tried to show the cops his. They barely glanced at it. I started to listen to the questions that Brenda and I were being asked with a new ear and suddenly a little light bulb went on over my head. The officers didn’t think we were terrorists or criminals. They thought we were cute American girls and they wanted to spend some time with us.
To be honest this irritated me a lot (Brenda skipped irritated and went straight to pissed). It’s not that we didn’t expect that the Italian men would live up to their reputations but for these guys to use their power as police officers to try to get us to give them our hotel information and travel itinerary is obnoxious as hell. They did offer to accompany us to our hotel so we “wouldn’t get lost” but we managed to dissuade them (although that took some doing).
I swear by the time I got to my hotel the idea of handing over my life savings to a crooked cab driver didn’t sound so bad. But it wasn’t long before things started improving…a lot.
However you’ll have to wait until Sunday to hear about that.
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Thursday, October 06, 2005
I'm home!
It was a wonderful trip and I have so much to fill you in on. I’ve decided to break my Italian adventure up into 5 blog posts the first of which I had originally intended to write tonight but I just got off the plane and it’s everything I can do to keep my eyes open so if you can bear with me for one more day I promise to give you all the fabulous details of my journey (along with the not-so-fabulous details which predictably involved planes, trains and automobiles).
Thanks for your patience!
(By the way, if this blog is incoherent you can blame British Airways).
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Thanks for your patience!
(By the way, if this blog is incoherent you can blame British Airways).
Kyra Davis
www.kyradavis.com
Sex, Murder And A Double Latte IN STORES NOW!!!
For The Love Of A Dog--A fun online read!
Moms Of Mystery--An e-newsletter!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)