There's a cat and a claw...no wait!

Unlike sitting down to the squeal of a movie (That most likely shouldn't have even had a first installment.) when you sit down under a bright light and crack the pages of the second part in a book series (or in this case trilogy) excitement starts to boil in your veins, as you settle in to be taken on a near magical journey. You are greeted by the main character you fell in love with within the first paragraph of the first book, eagerly picking up the key to unlock the mystery of what he/she will do next, watching for which secondary characters will be involved to spice things up. When I sat down to read Cat's Claw, Amber Benson's sequel to the Calliope Reaper- Jones novel Death's Daughter, I knew I was in for a thrilling adventure. The second book starts us off much like the last with Calliope at home in the heart of busy New York City wishing her life was normal. Unfortunately for her an unexpected visitor quickly reminds Calliope she will never have the normal life she so desperately wants, when your Death's Daughter there are no breaks.

From here we swirl into our main storyline, this book walks us back through the unforgiving sauna that is Hell to face off with the gate keeper Cerberus, who Calliope owes a favor. Cerberus sends Callie on a suspected wild goose chase to find an ancient Egyptian that has gone missing. With a timer in hand rudely flashing numbers at her she must find the man before it runs out or she will have to return her beloved hell hound puppy Runt, whom Callie and her sister adopted in the previous book. The search for the Egyptian man takes us through many different and very surprising locations such as Purgatory, a popular department store, The Luxor Hotel in Las Vegas as well as ancient Egypt. During the ride we are met with familiar faces, as well as the very same amount of laugh out loud moments as the first novel.

Our leading lady acknowledges her flaws, grew and changed during the course of her mission, (and still had time left over for shopping.) which takes us into the next arch to set up the third novel. I read this book in one sitting. I recommend Cat's Claw to any urban fantasy/fantasy/science fiction fans, and geeks alike. Also to anyone else who likes a little dry humor and good giggle along the way. As as side note: this book contains a lot of shopping savvy lingo, seeing as I am not that kind of girl I had to look some points up in order to better understand what the leading character was obsessing over. The big disappointment for me was that the third book doesn't come out until next year. It takes real guts to venture from acting, writing scripts and co-written work into the unknown trails of a solo novel series. Amber Benson makes the transition nicely and doesn't show any signs that this will be her last cake walk.

Was that lightning?

Taken from my post at the How To Think Sideways forum:

Because it felt more like the muse was using me like a Ouija board last night while I was laying in bed trying to fall asleep. Now before I get into what happened I want to mention an event a few hours beforehand, because I think this is relevant. I had taken a sheet of loose leaf and wrote the name of something that's been bothering me for a really long time, then wrote out how I felt about it. After both sides of the paper were covered in bright red ink I tore up the sheet of paper into tiny bits and shoved it in a garbage bag.

So last night while I was trying to sleep, (it was late, very late, four am late, Hey muse how about giving me ideas other then between the hours of 12am-4am? huh?...huh?) and all of a sudden all of these details fill my head, some based of a very vague old idea that I had, that was also part a dream. All of this was so screaming loud that I had to get up and start writing things down or there was no way I was going to sleep. Seven very confusing, detailed pages (that look like the start of either a mess or an outline) later I finally closed the book stopped writing then slipped into a sweet coma. (Not easy for someone who has a hate-hate relationship with sleep.)

Something tells me this was the result of clearing out one small section of my mind in order to let in this wonderful bunch of new information come in. What I'm going to do with it all is another question all together, my me is telling me I'm not ready for world building but the muse? She just hit me over the head like a stealth assassin. Making the choice to start picking through it and asking questions is the next big leap, I know this. (Hey fear? Kiss my grits for once, um please?) And if I don't end up liking any of it I can clear out another part of my mind and try again. I think however I am going to do more red ink writing and ripping it was very therapeutic and oddly seemed to be the key I was missing.

I'm never sure what to do when the dark mood kicks in it's not like there is some switch that I can just flick to change my mood. When things just seem so meek nothing that I love can possibly make me feel better, sometimes it's best to just sleep it off or wait it out and see how I eventually feel but sitting around with this weight pulling me down isn't very satisfying at all. I hate that my depression and physical pain stop me from doing the things I want to do and no one seems to understand why my dark moods are so crippling and hard to change. I could sing, I could dance, I can watch all my favorite shows, read a book. But when I have this feeling none of my efforts matter, it has to pass on it's own. I've also never know why the dark happens, it's just a part of me that I have to grit my teeth and bare. I know I have So many wonderful things in my life that make it worth pushing through every day, but this feeling I get despite all of it and my efforts, the dark still rears it's ugly head. It's been a few days this time and I wish I could do something to make it go away but I just feel so helpless. I love and am loved, I have so many things in my life that other's would go to great lengths for, I've experienced some of the most exciting things I thought were only manageable in my dreams, still, still I fight the dark.

If mental health weren't such a huge joke then maybe someone here would understand, someone would relate. I tell myself it will be okay but that's just not powerful enough to shift the dark. It's like someone came into the house and cut off all the electricity and there you are sitting scared in the dark without a light, the cold creeps up your back and your heart beats double time, there is only black. I wish I knew what this was instead of some ominous storm cloud that rolls in and takes over my body and mind when I'm not paying attention. If asked what's wrong I don't have answers besides it's just the way I am sometimes, my ugly mood. I've lived with this for so many years it just feels like a part of me, but I know it's more like a huge splinter under my skin that's infecting my system and I am hopelessly trying to extract it from my person.

I've always thought that smart people are cursed, the ones who want to create something outside of themselves instead of being the consumer. It's the downside to our little bit of brilliance, Artists, Musicians, Authors/Writers, Film Makers, Chiefs/Bakers and anything else that could link to some sort of creativity. These things have to be plagued by some form of madness or another, even in the very slightest way. It's like the tax for the things that we do, I'm not sure why but it just seems that their has to be some sort of tax for doing the things that make us happiest. I also believe that people in general are totally bonkers but it's the knowledge and use of this that separate us all. A little writing brings a little clarity if only for a little while so I will hang onto this moment while I have it and hope the rest of the fog rolls out, and soon.