I realize I've been pretty much non-existent around TM for... a pretty damn long time, actually. So I feel a little guilty that my "comeback" is just an OOC post, but I need all the promotion for this I can get. Forgive me?

I wrote a book! Well, I've written a few, but this one I actually published. So if you've enjoyed my writing in the past, and are interested in the time travel/paranormal romance genre, you might like my debut novel, Destined.

A brief blurb:

Vampire hunter Apolline Greer finds herself transported 100 years into the past, into the body of her own ancestor, on the maiden voyage of the Titanic. She soon finds that she's sharing the ship with both the vampire that killed her mother and a fellow hunter, a handsome young man named Alexander Walker.

Determined to change her own past, she teams up with Alex to hunt the vampire, but the longer they work together, the more personal their partnership becomes. With the iceberg looming ahead, Apolline finds herself not only racing against time to save her mother, but falling deeper for a man who probably won't survive the disaster.

You can find a longer blurb and first three chapters on my website: AllisonKraft.com

Ordering info is there as well, or you can go directly to CreateSpace or Amazon. It's available in both paperback and Kindle format, as well as Nook. For those outside the US, the Amazon UK and Amazon.de pages have the Kindle version as well. Just search for "Allison Kraft." (My pen name.)

For other ereaders (iPad, Kobo, Sony, etc.), I'm still working on it. I haven't been able to get into those stores as an individual author, so I'm trying to get the ePub for sale on Google Books, but it's going slowly.

Website also has links to my blog, Twitter, Facebook fan page, GoodReads page, etc. If anyone's interested in those.

Thanks for putting up with my little plug. :) I really miss writing Cordy sometimes, so maybe some day I'll get back to her.

Tell the story behind your name (or nickname).

According to Daddy, Cordelia is a family name. The Chases have always given their kids C names, some weird obsession with alliteration or something. I always thought it was kind of corny, but then I named my daughter Christine, so who am I to talk?

I used to wonder if whatever ancestor first named their daughter Cordelia chose it because of the Shakespeare character (don't everyone die of shock that I knew Shakespeare), or if they just saw it somewhere and thought it was pretty. On the one hand, I think a lot of Daddy's family could be pretty snobby, but it wasn't the well-read kind of snobby that uses literary figures as baby name inspiration, you know? Frankly, I'm surprised I wasn't named Chanel. If my mother had her way... actually, if my mother had her way, I'd have been named Grace, after Grace Kelly. She always loved her, and I think she hoped naming me after someone who had gone from normal girl to Hollywood superstar to honest-to-goodness princess would bring me luck or something. Either way, it wasn't going to happen. Not only was Daddy set on the C thing, but Grace Chase would have sounded really lame.

Man, I can only imagine how much grief I'd have gotten with that name. Cordelia was bad enough. I won't lie: I kind of hated it when I was younger. It was different, none of the other dis had heard it before, and when you're a kid, the last thing you want is to be different. But when I got older, and saw that being the same as everyone else wasn't really such a great thing, I embraced it. It's pretty and not many other people have it, which makes it special.

The funny thing is, I have this name that's been in the Chase family for generations, and until a few years ago, had no idea I wasn't even a real Chase. Not by blood, at least. Now that I think about it, I can't help wondering what I would have been named if I had been born into the Osborn family instead. Luckily, they don't seem to be hung up on alliteration, otherwise I might have been Oprah or Olga or something. Or maybe they'd do the Shakespeare thing too, and I'd be Ophelia. Yuck.

When I think about it, I got pretty lucky. Cordelia Chase is an awesome name.

If you, as a child, could see yourself now, what do you think you would say?
(RP based answer)

Oh god, where to begin?

Might as well start where I would when I was a kid: awesome boobs. I think I would have been really pleased to see how that part of me turned out. And the hair. I would have liked my hair. As for the rest? I'd like to think younger me would approve. Even though I'm what she would have considered "way old," I work out and moisturize, and I'm still a hottie. Especially when you consider all the crap I've been through.

Of course, that's just the physical stuff. The easy part.

Younger me would be THRILLED that older grown-up me is way richer now. She wouldn't really understand the way it happened, though, with Daddy not really being our Daddy and having a brother we never knew about. Mostly she'd just be "ooh, money!" I miss those days sometimes. Life is so much simpler when you're a kid.

On the other hand, younger me would NOT be happy that grown-up me is not a famous actress. Or that I'm not married to Keanu Reeves a fabulously famous actor or director. Kids were never an ambition back then, so the fact that I don't have any yet that survived wouldn't bother her. Hell, she'd probably be happy about that. Back then, I thought having kids would end my career.

[locked to those that know about these things]
As for the whole vampires & demons part of my life... younger me would be pretty horrified, I'm sure. Not only that they exist, but that I actually got involved in fighting them. Even more that I got involved with Xander Harris. I think that little nugget of information alone might kill her.

She would be totally grossed out that I let myself be made half demon, too. The oracle thing... I don't know. She might think that was cool, except for the part where I have to help people while wearing that seriously unflattering toga. The Jasmine stuff would have horrified her, though, and the dying. Though probably not as much as my hair back then. She would have really hated that hairstyle.
[/locked]

I don't know, there are a lot of things I've done and been through that younger me wouldn't like. But if she were just looking at me right now, without knowing everything that led up to it? I think she'd call me an old, washed-up loser, or something equally horrible. I wasn't very nice at that age.

But for the record? I'm NOT old.

ooc: Yes, Cordy is still alive... somewhere. I'm trying to drag her back out to play, so here's hoping she doesn't clam up on me again! In an attempt to explain why she's been MIA for so long, she's been traveling in Europe for a while, trying to find herself again. She needed time to get over all the stuff that's happened to her and clear her head, get back to her old self, blah blah. :)

The animal associated with you in the Chinese zodiac.

Ew. According to that Wikipedia thing, I'm a Monkey. That's got to be, like, the lamest one. Well, except for the Rat. That one's gross, too. Couldn't the Chinese use cool animals, like horses or eagles or, I don't know, anything else? It's not hard to find better animals than monkeys and rats!

Though that description thing isn't so bad, I guess. It says I'm an intense and powerful individual, and intelligent and charismatic. I can't really argue with that, can I? Of course, it also says I can be a destructive manipulator and a hedonist. I'm not entirely sure why that's a bad thing.

Also, there's this page that says I'm a "Metal Monkey." Is that like a robot monkey? God, it just keeps getting lamer! It doesn't say what it means, though, to be metal. Just that the general Monkey motto is "I Entertain." I guess that fits me, but I still don't like the monkey part. Monkeys are gross and smelly and they eat bugs off of each other.

I never really thought much of astrology and zodiac stuff. My mom was into it for a while, and I remember days where she wouldn't leave the house because her horoscope said something she didn't like. I always thought the whole thing was pretty stupid. I know I'm a Capricorn (a goat - the lame animals just keep coming!), and that's about it. Sure, I'll sometimes read my horoscope in the paper, if I've got nothing better to do. But I don't plan my day around what it says or anything. If I was going to do that, I might as well start calling the Psychic Friends Network, too. (Something else my mother did, until Daddy got the phone bill and freaked out on her.)

I'm really rambling now, aren't I? I need to get back into the hang of this journaling thing.

Like this is going to be a surprise to anyone that knows me.

I collect shoes. Maybe not intentionally. I mean, it's not like when people collect coins or stamps or whatever. I just really love shoes, and when I see a pair I like, I have to have them. After a while, I kind of... accumulate a lot of them. Lucky for me I'm rich now, and I can afford the kind of closet you need to store that many shoes.

For now, though, most of them are in a storage unit. I'm kind of between houses, and closets. The LA condo sold a while ago, and I've been staying in Gotham with my brother and sister-in-law since I got back from rehab. They're great, but I probably shouldn't keep mooching from them like this. It's not like I can't afford my own place. I just... haven't decided where that place is going to be yet. Maybe I'll just live everywhere. Get a house in Gotham and one in LA and maybe one in Europe somewhere. Just because I can.

Wake up, Cordelia. Please, wake up. We need you, Cordy. Come back to us.

They tell people, the doctors and the nurses, that when someone they love is in a coma, they should talk to them. That somehow, deep in that brain that has otherwise shut down, they'll be heard. That maybe, if they talk enough, find those magic words, the person that's been sleeping for days or weeks or even years, will wake up and come back to them.

They lie.

Oh, they don't know they're lying. Mostly. They can only assume based on what they're told, or what they learn from scientific tests. People have woken up from comas and said "Oh yes, I heard you calling for me. That's why I came back." But really? I think they're lying too, to make their loved ones feel better, feel useful.

I could be wrong, but I don't think I am. Because I was in a coma, too, and I'm here to tell you I didn't hear squat. I can assume my friends begged me to wake up, that they told me they missed me and loved and whatever else people say to someone who can't answer them. And I can even know they said some of those things, because I went back later and watched, after I was dead. You can do that, you know. After you die. You can watch any moment of history that you want. It's like... the biggest TiVo ever. Stop, rewind, pause. Whatever you want to see. Ultimate knowledge.

Sounds cool, I know, but trust me: it gets boring after a while. I mean, death is infinite, and you can only watch so much TV before it gets old. And ultimate knowledge? Headache city. Believe me, I'm an expert on headaches.

But anyway, I got off track there. I was talking about my coma, not my death. That's a whole other prompt there.

As I was saying, I couldn't hear anyone while I was in my coma, so whatever pleas or promises or bargains they were saying over me didn't do any good. But I did wake up... sort of. I got to wake up and see all my friends again, got to talk to them and hug them and kiss Angel make sure they were all right. Which they weren't, but I got them back on track. Really, they were lost without me.

The joke was on them, though, because I hadn't really woken up. It was just a day of borrowed life, so I could set things right before I died. I was at peace with it, at the time, because I thought that was it: my last big good deed before eternal whatever. I was going out with a bang, so to speak. Okay, maybe not a bang. I only got to kiss him. Turned out? The joke was actually on me, because that wasn't the end. I woke up again, later. Woke up for real, and stayed awake.

Some days? I kind of wish I hadn't.

What's that smell?

New leather. A mixture of perfume that's a little heavy, but still pleasant. High-end fabrics. Different scents in different areas, meant to stimulate the senses and encourage people to linger. Because lingering equals spending, and spending is good.

All combined, the scents equal one thing: Bloomingdale's.

Ah, shopping. Cordelia has missed shopping. Her credit cards are getting a workout today, and she couldn't be happier. New clothes for her, for Kara, for Adhra. Baby stuff for her niece or nephew on the way. A watch for Harry, even though he probably already has more than a person would ever need. Whatever strikes her fancy goes in the shopping bag. She buys because she can, because she hasn't been able to for so long. It's the only addiction she has left that she can feed, and boy, is she gorging herself.

New shoes. New handbags. Smell all that wonderful, expensive leather. The lingerie department smells like lilacs and silk. The bathing suit department like coconut. Summer may be nearly over, but it's never too late to get a new bikini. There are always tropical places to visit when Gotham or even LA gets too cold. The baby department smells like baby powder, and she finds herself anxious there. The scent is meant to be calming, but it makes her itchy, sad. Even now, the loss of Christine hits her when she least expects it. But she moves on, loses herself in the jewelry department for a while. Most people would say diamonds have no smell, but Cordelia swears they do. They smell like happiness.

Shallow? Of course. But you only live once (so the saying goes, though her experience says otherwise), so why not enjoy it as much as you can? You never know when you might be poor again, so spend while the spending is good. And at Bloomingdale's, the spending is so, so good.

Okay, so most of you already knew I was back, since I've pretty much called everyone in my phone book by now. But in case I missed anyone, here you go.

Anyway, wow. I can't believe how long it's been since I last posted in this thing. It's probably a good thing they didn't tell me about the Internet restrictions until after I'd checked into rehab, because if I'd known before, I'd probably still be popping pills right now. (You think I'm kidding, but some days the Internet withdrawal was worse the painkiller withdrawal!)

Huh. This is kind of weird. I'm not really sure what to say now that I'm writing. I guess it'll take a little time to get used to things again.

Man, where is a good meme when you need one?

ooc: This is an attempt to explain away Cordy's absence for the past month. From this point on, she's officially back, baby!

Six months. That's how long Cordelia had been cooped up, unable to go where she wanted, when she wanted. For the first 3 months, she'd been in rehab, trying to kick the pill habit she'd acquired when her vision headaches had come back last year. After that, she volunteered to do whatever the Powers That Be wanted to make up for the leave of absence she'd taken from her oracle duties. Little had she known her payment would be 24/7 entrapment in the oracle den. Her only consolation had been that she'd been able to warn her friends that she'd be gone before they locked her up, so no one would worry.

Once she was out, after checking in with her friends and loved ones, making sure they were all okay and more or less the way she had left them, she started feeling the need to move, to stretch her legs and roam. It didn't take long to decide on Europe. Yes, Europe had sounded like exactly what she needed. She wasn't running away, just exercising her freedom a little. When all you've seen for half a year is institutional (yet classy - for what she paid, it had better have been classy) walls and then unbroken, windowless marble, you get a little itchy to see new things. Lots of new things, in lots of new places. That cost lost of money.

So she'd embarked on a little one-woman tour of Europe. A month of travel, from London to Paris to Milan and Rome. A stop in Spain, some time in the south of France (she did love the Riviera), almost a week in Monaco... it was wonderful. She met new people, did new things... she felt like herself again, for the first time in ages. She was renewed; a beautiful, wealthy young woman with the world at her feet.

( Read more... )

Talk about a news item.

News, for the most part, is boring. Just a lot of boring talk about boring people doing boring things. Things that, in Cordelia's opinion, have nothing to do with her, so why waste her precious time reading about it? Unless it's celebrity gossip. In that case, her stance on the subject is: more, please.

Some news, however, manages to transcend categorization. Some news is so big, so important, that it doesn't matter who you are, where you are, or even what language you speak. It will find you, and it will make an impact on you that you'd never expected. It will be the kind of news that, years later, you will still remember where you were when you heard it. Like the Kennedy assassination (Cordelia wasn't born yet, but her parents would always talk about it, even though they'd both only been in grade school when it happened) or 9/11 (Cordelia was trapped in Pylea, but she still remembers when she first heard about it upon returning to LA).

When Cordelia finally got back to her life, away from rehab and her 3-month (voluntary) imprisonment as an oracle, she wasn't that eager to find out what she'd missed in world events. Her phone was dead, so she had to wait for it to charge to check her messages, so in the meantime, she turned on the television. Not really all that interested, just to have something to make noise in the condo and keep the memories at bay. it hadn't taken long for her channel surfing to land on the latest news flash, though. Because even though the event itself was nearly a week old, it was still news. No, not news. This was bigger than news.

Michael Jackson was dead.

And with him, a big part of her childhood.

Sure, he'd turned into kind of a weirdo. But in his prime, he'd been a musical genius, and Cordelia lost track of how many numbers her dance squad had choreographed to one of his songs. She'd even had a little crush on him when she was little. (She had a sequined glove, too.) She knew all of his songs by heart (the older ones, at least. After Bad, she started to get too old to think he was cool).

It was inconceivable that he was gone, even though he'd kind of already been gone for years. This was a different kind of gone. This was the kind of gone that made her suddenly nostalgic for the 80s. That made her download half of his library off of iTunes because she'd lost all her cassettes ages ago, and besides, who had a tape player anymore? She hadn't had any desire to listen to his music in over a decade, yet here she was, devouring it all over again. Singing to it and dancing the old dances like she was right back there in the dance squad days. Watching the "Thriller" video on YouTube and TiVo-ing every news special she could find. It was cool to like Michael Jackson again.

Death, it turned out, was the ultimate comeback.

She cried when she watched the funeral. Bawled her eyes out when Brooke Shields spoke, and when Jermaine Jackson sang. And then at the end, when his daughter broke down... well, she was a goner then.

She could be such a sap sometimes. And she felt kind of bad now for teasing her mother so much when she'd get nostalgic about Elvis Presley. Now she understood. It wasn't so much the man himself she was mourning, it was the magic of the era, when she was young and carefree. Everyone's childhood has a soundtrack, even if they don't really think much about it. And a major part of hers had been Michael Jackson, who was now gone.

God, what was she going to do when Madonna died?