I decided I needed a research book on the black arts to give me some background for my witch hunter series.

This does not freak me out at all, or so I thought. I met my sister at Barnes and Noble, and while she browsed, I went looking for my research book.

Where the heck do they shelve this stuff? I should have known the answer, but I couldn’t find it. So I went up to the customer service kiosk to ask for help. I was aiming for the young woman behind the counter, who looked mildly goth and very interesting. (It’s a writer thing—some people look cookie cutter boring like me, and other people look like they have a story I should hear). She was currently helping a customer but I had no problem waiting.

Just my luck, a middle-aged, very traditional looking clerk spotted me and rushed over to ask, “Can I help you?”

I tried for my best innocent expression. “I’m looking for a book on witchcraft…umm…a research book.”

Everything on that clerk’s face pulled tight like she was fighting a wicked battle with a sneer. Finally she showed me to the New Age section, and told me I could find information on Wicca there.

Dang, so not what I was looking for. Wicca is generally an earth magic. “I don’t need Wicca. I’m actually looking for, well, umm, demons and black magic.”

She refused to meet my gaze, pointed at the next row of books and walked away, leaving me to sort it out. To be fair, she was trying, but I made her uncomfortable.

In turn, she made me uncomfortable, like somehow I was doing something wrong. Like something bad might happen because of my reading choice.

Later, when I got home, I was telling another friend about the book when she cautioned me against accidentally doing some dark magic.

On an intellectual level, this amazes me. I have read volumes on serial killers, and so far, I haven’t accidentally killed someone. I have read articles on torture, and so far, haven’t tortured anyone.

What I am getting from this experience and the interesting array of reactions is this: Most of us have an elemental fear of evil beings, of magic and superstitions, coded right into our DNA. We tend to react on an elemental level to just a book on the subject of dark magic—like it might slide out of the pages and take root in our souls. Take my own actions: Notice that when I went to Barnes and Noble, I unconsciously looked for a clerk that I thought would be more accepting of my choice in reading. And when I got the disapproving clerk, I started feeling a sense of wrongness, as if something dark and dangerous might happen.

Superstitions run deep, sometimes so deep we’re not always aware of them.

I don’t actually believe in witchcraft, in case you are wondering. Over the years, I’ve read many books on it. I’ve had a book titled THE ENCYLCOPEDIA OF WITCHES AND WITCHCRAFT on my research shelf for over a decade. I bought way back when I was research the Salem Witch Hunts and found it interesting.

But I haven’t yet accused anyone of witchcraft, or felt a need to search for a witch’s mark on people behaving oddly in order to force a confession of witchcraft. I view the Salem Witch Hunts as a fascinating psychosis.

What’s interesting to me is how so many people think that knowledge is dangerous. That if I read something about the black arts I might slip over to the dark side. I don’t think any book holds that power, nor does knowledge.

It’s all about what we choose to do with the knowledge we learn from books.

So here’s what I’m curious about you all? Do you feel like you control the knowledge you gain from books, or do you somehow fear that knowledge might fundamentally change you or threaten you?

With three sons in college, I’ve really given some serious consideration to getting a Real Job. Fortunately, being a writer, I can see how the Job Interview will unfold in my head:

Interviewer: “So what is your work experience?”

Me: “I’ve raised my kids and ran a small business.”

Interviewer: “I see. What kind of business?”

Me: “I’m an author. I’ve negotiated contracts, hired employees, met regular deadlines, kept track of income and expenses…the usual stuff.”

Interviewer perks up. “Author? What kind of author? Like…books?”

Me. “Yes. Novels.”

Interview narrowing eyes in suspicion: “What kind of novels?”

Me: “Well mystery and romances.”

Interview sniffs. “Romances? That trash?”

Me standing up. “Don’t forget the mysteries. I know a dozen ways to kill someone.” And I make my dramatic exit.

Or the Alternate Ending:

Interviewer perks up. “Author? What kind of author? Like…books?”

Me. “Yes. Novels.”

Interviewer: “Really! I do a little writing. I have a 1200 page novel about cross-dressing kittens…which is really political satire; would you like to read it?

Me: Running like a bat out of hell. The kids can pay for their own education!

I have an interview story that actually happened (not just in my head!). Many years ago, I went to interview for an accounts payable clerk position. I put on my skirt and blouse, walked through an upscale office and did the interview. It went pretty well and I thought I had a shot. Then the interviewer called me and said that she couldn’t hire me, but her boss was interested in hiring me as his personal secretary. (Yes, I know, Administrative Assistant, but this was in the dark ages before fax machines and Starbucks.)

Uh, okay. I wasn’t qualified to be the personal secretary, but I was flattered, somehow thinking that he read my resume and application and thought I’d make a good personal secretary.

Hey, I was eighteen at the time. Maybe still a little bit naïve. I went in to interview with boss. He was middle aged man who—I swear to God—had an “office manager” that I suspect was actually his parole agent or maybe his nanny, I don’t know. She insisted I take a typing test before “signing off” on him to hire me. Then once she got me away from him, she told me that I didn’t want to work there, and pretty much failed me on the typing test.

You know, to this day I think of that woman with kindness. She was NOT a middle-aged woman jealous of a younger girl. She was literally doing me a favor, and I doubt she got paid enough money for her job. I can’t believe how stupid I was.

So see? It’s better if I just stay home and write books.

What are your interview stories?

A friend called me on Saturday and said, “I just need to talk to a rational person.”

“What’s wrong,” I said, ignoring the rational part. Given that people talk to me in my head pretty much all day long, I think we can safely say that rational is not on my resume.

I can however multi-task; I can talk a friend off the ledge on the phone while listening to the people in my head grumble because I am not telling their story correctly.

This, by the way, IS NOT MY FAULT. It’s NOT. And if the chatter will stop for a single minute, I can explain.

So my friend…she’s living a nightmare. Trying to do about six remodel projects on her house and yard at the same time. While working a full time job. And without committing murder. It’s a very trying time. A lesser woman, LIKE ME, would have snapped by now and committed bodily harm all the while laughing manically.

But my friend, she’s made of sterner stuff and hasn’t drawn any blood yet.

The plumber situation alone should require at least minimal bloodletting. She’s had several plumbers already, many of which turned out to be Invisible Plumbers. Those are the ones who have a voice on the phone that swear they will be out there Monday morning at 8 am. They still haven’t shown up on Friday. Do you know why? Because they are INVISIBLE. They only have a voice to make false promises but no actual body to do the work.

My friend did finally find a Visible Plumber who arrives and does some work. Well leave the plumbers alone for a minute.

Let’s talk to the gung ho tile guys. They are very friendly, guys, who swear they can get the job done in a couple days. Kitchen, family room, living room, bathrooms, these guys are magicians! Leave it to them.

So she does.

And when she gets home from work, there are no working toilets. Three bathrooms and not one of them had a toilet. The tile guys removed ALL OF THEM AT ONCE, then left for the night.

Meanwhile the outside painters have “forgotten” to paint under the eves and one entire wall.

My poor friend is spending her days on the phone trying to get everyone to do their job, in the correct order, so that all the work can get done.

A week later, the plumber and tile guys are arguing back and forth about whose fault it is the sinks don’t line up—with my friend in the middle trying to just get her sinks in her bathroom! Finally, that’s the done, and they move onto the shower.

Saturday morning when my friend called, she water was bubbling up in a slow leak from her shower floor. She called the plumber who said he’d come out Monday to fix it. Monday—two days later! I’m afraid to call and find out of the leak turned into a gusher.

I tried to assure my friend that once that house is finished, it will be worth all this agony.

Meanwhile, I’m thinking to myself—this is exactly what this book I’m working on right now feels like. It’s not MY fault I’m not telling the story correctly as the people in my head are pointing daily. It’s THEIR fault. Some characters don’t show up like they promise, others show up too soon and throw off the schedule. Still other characters only tell me a fraction of their story at the beginning, then dump the rest on me later so that I have to go back, round everyone up and “remodel” what I thought was finished. Then a plot problem appears out of nowhere like a leak, and threat to blow a gusher, destroying all my hard work.

And yet…it will be worth it. If I can just get everyone to cooperate and work together, I think it’ll be a good story. Just like my friend’s house will be wonderful once it’s finished.

I actually love conquering my book. I must love the process more than I think I do because it pulls me back every time I try to walk away. The challenge is getting everyone’s story to intertwine and mesh into a book filled with passion. And that kind of passion doesn’t come from easy; it comes from sleepless nights of worry and days of sweat.

But I don’t think I want to remodel my house anytime soon! What about you all, any remodeling horror stories?

Thank you all for playing! It’s tremendous fun being The Contest Witch–except for the choosing part. I assigned numbers and had my husband randomly pick two numbers. And now, without further delay, the two winners are:

Reading IsSoMuchFun
RachaelfromNJ

Congratualtions! I need the two winners to email me at Jenapodaca@aol.com with a mailing address and how they’d like the book signed. I’ll get the signed copy of EXTREMELY HOT and the $10.00 B&N gift card into the mail as soon as I can.

Halloween is almost here. I’ve always thought Halloween was the coolest holiday. It’s the one day you can be anything you want.

I always wanted to be a witch. Anyone who has read my bio on my website knows the story. I loved BEWITCHED. I loved Samantha.

And for the record, Jeannie annoyed the crap out of me. First off, unless I’m training in Tae Kwon Do, I’m not calling some man master.

Ugh.

Secondly, she lived in a bottle. A freaking bottle. Isn’t that what we say about alcoholics? They live in the bottle? Go to AA, Jeanie, grow a spine, and stop calling men master!

Now Samantha was one cool witch. Darwood, oops, sorry, I mean, Darrin, THOUGHT he was running the show. That he was in charge. That Samantha did whatever he said.

That poor fool.

Samantha and her scary mom Endora ran the show! They just let Darrin think that because it kept Darrin busy and out of the way.

Uber cool.

Plus Samantha did awesome magic.

I so totally wanted to be a witch. And on Halloween I got to be one. The best witch ever!

And now, even better, I get to write about witches! See all that imaging on Halloween paid off! And to all those teachers who claimed that I day dreamed my way through school, and that I’d never amount to anything because daydreaming is a waste of time?

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Okay, yeah, I’ve probably had too much coffee. Sorry.

Here on MSW, I’ve decided that for Halloween, I want to be The Contest Witch. To celebrate the release of my latest Brava book EXTREMELY HOT; I’m asking a question in the paragraph below, and I’ll randomly choose two answers in the comments to win a signed copy of EXTREMELY HOT and a $10.00 Barnes and Noble Gift Card. You can comment all week until midnight Friday, and I’ll announce the two winners Saturday on the blog.

What is the one thing you always wanted (or still want) to be for Halloween?

Good Luck!