The apocalypse is drawing near–no, not the Mayan one in December, the one that’s going to rain down on all of us if Tebow somehow manages to pull out a victory against the Steelers on Sunday. If that happens, I can only assume the rapture will soon follow (an event I look forward to if only because the world will be relieved of short-sighted ill-informed right wing fanatics so the rest of us can stop denying the existence of dinosaurs and get down to business cleaning up our planet so that we can have a place to carry out our sins for the rest of eternity).

With the imminent possibility of a total end to the world as we know it, I’ve decided to forgo the traditional New Year’s Resolutions and instead invoke three new credos I plan to live by in 2012 (yes, that’s right, I said credo, because it sounds way cooler and more Karate Kid-ish than those icky new age words like philosophy, goal or plan):

1. Be Honest: This applies to many facets of my life and is not intended to imply that I am a liar. My honesty focus in 2012 is not so much about being honest with others (I’m pretty sure my dad would still take off his belt and whip me today if he caught me lying to someone, that lesson will not soon be forgotten), but about being honest with myself; about who I am, what I am capable of, and what I really want out of life. To all my excuses, I advise that you lace up your sneakers and take a hike.

2. Be Positive: Too often lately I’ve found myself wrapped in a heavy, sticky coating of negativity. Whether it’s getting absorbed in a friend’s drama or sulking over the state of my life (job, living arrangements, relationships, etc.), I’ve had enough of it. Life is too damn short to be angry all the time. I’m donning the rose colored glasses and on the days when they get clouded I’ll find rose colored wine glasses, fill them up, and rediscover my positive attitude. Act happy and you’ll be happy.

3. Be Pro-Active: Last November I began contemplating a major change in the direction of my career (and subsequently my life). I asked the universe for some guidance and shortly thereafter came across the card on the right. This is going to be the primary theme of 2012 for me–I’m going to get in the driver’s seat and start moving myself toward my goals instead of waiting for the universe or fate or chance or coincidence to take care of the hard work for me. I’m packing up, I’ll let you know when I’ve reached my destination.

Sidenote: What’s with the title of this blog?

Today I witnessed a woman who could have been a cast member of Real Housewives of St. Augustine: Senior Edition forget to put her Mercedes in park in front of Chili’s, leaving her husband seated helplessly in the passenger seat as their powder blue, ridiculously expensive vehicle rolled across the parking lot and slammed into another (cheaper) car.

Rather than reacting like a normal person would have–ashamed, embarrassed, apologetic, etc., this woman argued with her husband (after he re-parked the car while waiting for the cops to arrive), ripped her knee-length mink coat from its hanger in the backseat with a flourish and donned her priceless warm dead animal fur (which, now that I think about it, might have been rabbit or monkey or whatever other kind of fur they make coats out of, how the hell should I know? My coats are made out of synthetic fabrics and sold at Ross.) After the ten foot walk from her car to the restaurant’s entrance (she would have frozen to death were it not for that coat I tell you), sat down at a table by herself and ordered a vodka tonic (it was her lucky day–Chili’s serves two for one drinks all day, score!).

No joke.

That happened.

I am not making up even one small detail of that story. There was an accident with no driver, a mink coat in 40 degree Florida weather and a woman drinking alcohol at 1:00 p.m. while her husband exchanged information with a Flagler College student (who I can only hope will sue Mr. and Mrs. Mercedes for enough money to pay off all of her student loans) in the parking lot.

This incident led my friends and I to contemplate a series of important questions that we will never have answers to including (but not limited to):

- Why didn’t the husband pull the emergency brake as the car began to roll backward?

- Do Mercedes Benzes (Benzi?) not have emergency brakes? (For all we know they might have replaced them in the design plan long ago in favor of a mini bar, it IS a Mercedes, come on).

- Did she order the vodka tonic so she could cover up for the fact that she’d already been drinking?

- Can you get a DUI if you are not technically behind the wheel of your vehicle when it gets into an accident?

On the whole, it was a delightful experience that I was happy to witness (I’m allowed to say that, nobody got hurt) and will most definitely use in a future novel.

Alas, I am now off to locate my iPhone which I can hear but can’t seem to find…

Later days,

- Shannon

Last fall, while cruising the Caribbean with friends I got the idea for a sequel to I’ll Be Home for Christmas. At the time I was participating in my first NaNoWriMo, working on a separate (still unfinished) novel called Fried Pickles. As a result, I was only able to scribble down my ideas for the sequel before returning to my other project. Fast forward to a few months ago when I stumbled across my notes again and decided to pick it up and run. Originally intended to be a short story, it grew into more of a novella at just under 25,000 words.

If you loved the antics of Bailey’s enormous family and her complicated relationship with childhood friend Memphis, you’ll love this sequel, A Complicated Christmas. I plan to make it available as an eBook around Dec. 1st (it might take a little longer depending on their review process) but in the meantime, here’s a little excerpt for you to enjoy:

“What about you? Are you coming back for Christmas?” He asked casually.

“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “I was planning on it—I’ve already taken the time off from work—but after this weekend…”

“You’re a little overwhelmed,” he finished. (See? I told you he understands.)

“It’s not like last year or anything,” I said, remembering the four excruciatingly long days I spent at home for Christmas last year that nearly resulted in me cutting ties to my family for good. “But I feel like if I don’t take them in small doses, it could escalate pretty quickly.”

Memphis nodded. He’s been around my family tree long enough to know that it’s a massive botanical mess precariously perched on a ledge and held together in places with duct tape and twine. That’s what happens to your family tree when your parents divorce, leaving you and your two whole siblings dangling from forked branches while they remarry, procreate and divorce with reckless abandon. After all that, I have a total of 11 brothers and sisters including the aforementioned whole siblings (Becca and Brandon), three step-brothers (Simon, Mark and Josh), one step-sister (Lauren), four half-siblings (Robbie, Taylor, Maggie and Eli) and my adopted African brother (Ukembe). It makes for some interesting family get-togethers, to say the very, very least.

“So what will you do if you don’t come home? Just hang out in Boston by yourself?” Memphis asked. My response tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“I guess so…Unless you want to come up and hang out with me.” He smiled as I tried to keep the blush from building beneath the collar of my sweater.

“I don’t know about that,” he drawled, exaggerating his slow rolling Southern accent. “I’m not sure the big city and all that snow is where I want to be.”

“Oh yeah? Then where you would like to be?” Just as I said it, the football game flashed to a commercial of a family on a white sandy beach in the Caribbean. Behind them, floating high on sparkling emerald waters, was a massive white ship.

“That looks pretty good right there,” said Memphis, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“You want to go on a cruise?” I asked incredulously. “You live in Florida!”

So far, with each Christmas season (prime territory for my holiday-themed novel) I’ve taken one step in the right direction. Last year I was all about creating the eBook. This year, I’m all about the reviews. Through Twitter, Facebook and tips from other author friends, I’ve been recruiting reviewers online. My first review came in over the Thanksgiving holiday and (to my great joy) it was a glowing proclamation (perhaps unearned) of my debut work.

Not gonna lie, I definitely read it out loud to all of my family members around the dinner table. I think they were impressed, but it was hard to tell if it was with my review or the array of delicious Thanksgiving foods they were inhaling.

At any rate, here’s a quick excerpt from the review:

What is immediately obvious a few pages into this novel is that author Shannon O’Neil has quite a way with words. ”My grandfather would sooner have seen his youngest son in full drag carrying a Jimmy Carter campaign sign than…” The whole story is punctuated with snappy little punchlines that make you laugh out loud and cause those sitting around you to eye you with suspicion and move away. Definitely better to read this when you are alone or out of earshot.

Comedy is tricky and weaving comedy into a serious story that has a great message is not a challenge for the feint hearted writer. So I think O’Neil has done exceptionally well in maintaining the comedic flow of the book whilst delivering a credible and compelling piece of dysfunctional domestic drama for us to enjoy.

«Click here to read the full review»

Thanks so much to Dale Cusack, author of the Grace trilogy of books (great for tweens!).

What’s that on the horizon? Looks like a cruise ship…

In addition to begging for reviews of my book, I’ve also been working on a sort-of sequel to I’ll Be Home for Peacemas. It started as a short story about Bailey taking a little Christmas cruise with her pal Memphis, but it has turned into something closer to a novella. I hope to have it ready for eBook download by December 1st! Check back for details.

Later days,

- Shannon

Peacemas Excerpt of the Week

Slowly, I scooped a sampling of the green goop onto my plate. Surprisingly enough, the blind orphans of Malaysia were not sticklers for detail when it came to their pottery pieces. As everyone else helped themselves to dinner, I watched my own meal sluggishly slide across the sloped surface of the plate.

Eventually, I felt everyone’s eyes encouraging me to take a bite. With tremendous hesitation, I dipped the tines of my fork into the substance and brought it to my lips. The smell made my eyes water. I touched the tip of the fork to my tongue, thinking to myself that I would rather have licked Fred’s face than tasted that stuff. To my horror, it tasted almost exactly like it smelled.

“Mmm…” I said quietly.

“I told you it was good!” Olivia mused. I turned my gaze on Maylene. Certainly she would make a bigger scene than I did.

“You try it, Maylene,” I insisted.

“I ain’t never had nothing like this,” she said. To my surprise, she scooped out a healthy serving and swallowed at least half a pint of it before coming up for air. “It’s delicious!”

“Don’t forget to save room for dessert!” Olivia mentioned between bites. “I made my famous Ayers Rock cake!” My stomach churned at the mere thought. I’d forgotten about Olivia’s favorite Australia Night tradition—a massive block of vegemite sculpted to resemble Australia’s famous Ayers Rock. It’s every bit as delicious as you would expect a cake made of solidified vegetable paste to be.

Don’t forget that Peacemas is available in eBook format, too!

If you’re all about instant gratification, pick up your Kindle, Nook or other aptly named e-reading device and buy an eBook copy of I’ll Be Home for Peacemas. (Author’s note: The book is twice as enjoyable when complimented by a glass of spiked eggnog…just a recommendation).

Peacemas Excerpt of the Week

As I faced myself in the mirror, a loosely wrapped towel tucked under my arms, I made my daily assessment of all the ways in which I could not genetically disassociate myself from my family. I have my mother’s hair (her natural hair, I should say), which is something between a dark blond and a light brown color. It has a shape that could be called wavy on a good day and wildlife habitat on a bad one. My father’s eyes, a dark hazel with tiny flecks of gold, are set beneath Nana Jane’s eyebrows–high-arched and medium thick. My small, rounded nose with its slightly up-turned tip belongs to Judge (though mine is thankfully a miniature version of his). My lips, naturally a dark pink and closer to full than thin are Paula’s (but minus the coral lipstick she’s so fond of). The tiny cleft and low profile of my chin is a mirror of my Grandpa James.

Every time I wonder if I could be so lucky as to have been separated from my real parents (some blissfully normal, sane couple with no other children) at birth, I look at my reflection and reluctantly see the map of my own family history played out on my very own face.

That settled, I assembled a small army of hair products and tools on my bathroom counter. Like a lion tamer wielding a chair and a whip, I managed to corral my shoulder-length mane into something acceptable for going out in public.

That’s a wrap!

Come back next week for Bailey’s favorite Peacemas continent celebration: Australia! Are you ready for some Ayers Rock cake–a giant block of solidified vegemite? Yum!

Later days,

- Shannon

I don’t know on which birthday it came up, if I thought of it on my own or if someone pointed it out to me, but somewhere in the short span of my childhood I became aware of the fact that one day, once in my entire lifetime, my birthday would fall on a date that was exciting in its rarity: 11/11/11

Of course I knew that I would be turning twenty-seven (note: count the letters in twenty-seven…go ahead…I’ll wait) and I knew that it would be a Friday, but outside of that, the date held infinite possibilities. Where would I be in my life on 11/11/11? Where would I be living? What kind of job would I have? Would I be married? Would I have kids? Who would my friends be? What would I have accomplished?

In a world of possibilities, I carved out a trail from that point in childhood to today, the eve of 11/11/11. I now have answers to all of those questions, and I wonder if I could revisit my child self and supply those answers, what would the kid version of me say in response?

I’d like to think that kid-me would have asked one simple follow question: Are you happy?

Yes, I am.

I am truly happy with the current result of the path that I have taken. It has not been a perfect journey and it has not resulted in a perfect life, but it is my life. It’s my unique combination of experiences (good and bad), lessons (hard and easy) and events (sad and happy). At twenty-six years and 364 days I have achieved lifelong goals (obtaining my degrees from Florida State; publishing a novel) without sacrificing lifelong relationships.

Tomorrow I will celebrate 11/11/11 with the parents who have given me everything and the three friends who have been at my side for almost twenty years (plus their spouses!). If I am the kind of person who can be worthy of their love, respect and friendship, then I know my path from every 11/11 before to the 11/11 of 2011 was the right one to take.

With that, I leave you in the hands of the barefoot poet himself, Jimmy Buffett:

Later days,

Shannon

Peacemas Excerpt of the Week:

When you think of Antarctica one of the first adjectives that comes to mind (for me, at least) is solitude. Is there a place on the Earth where you could have more solitude than Antarctica? Bailey knows a thing or two about craving some alone time, check out this excerpt from I’ll Be Home for Peacemas:

For the first eighteen years of my life, I bounced back and forth between two households that were constantly packed to the rafters with other people’s lives. I shared beds, rooms, bathrooms, and most of my personal space in general with a rolodex of people who may or may not have been family members.

In college, I spent my first two years living in a series of tiny dorm rooms with at least one other person, then two more years in a medley of cramped apartments with a wide assortment of roommates. You can therefore imagine how excited I was to find my own place after graduation. I put a deposit down on the very first piece of square footage I could afford on my own and for the first time in my life, discovered this thing other people call privacy.

While I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed getting to lay claim to a space that’s mine and mine alone, it hasn’t exactly been the peaceful, rewarding experience I thought it would be.

For one thing, my entire apartment is roughly the size of your average walk-in closet, but with half the charm. It is home to all six pieces of my used (and abused) furniture, a tiny kitchenette (slightly smaller than the Little Tykes kitchen playset I had as a kid), and the world’s loudest (and most unreliable) radiator. But it has two saving graces that made me fall in love with it in the first place–even if they are the traitors who also allowed the sun to invade my space so early in the morning.

In April, when I first looked at the place, the pair of six-foot, east-facing casement windows took my breath away. On that clear, spring morning I could just make out the broad expanse of the Charles River in the gaps between a few neighboring buildings. When the landlord told me I could open my windows in the summer and hear the announcer at Fenway, I started digging through my purse for my checkbook.

That’s a wrap!

Week 2 of our Peacemas celebration has come to a close! Make sure you take a closer look at I’ll Be Home for Peacemas by reading the first five chapters (free!) or purchasing the eBook or paperback.

Later days,

- Shannon

A Christmas Caveat

Something I feel like I need to express on this issue: I know there are a lot of people who get very uncomfortable when there’s no “Christ” in “Christmas” so to speak. I identify myself as Christian and have spent many Christmas Eves in a hallowed sanctuary with a glowing candle. I believe in the story of Christmas, recognize its significance as the foundation of the world’s most popular religion and would not do anything to take away from that. Peacemas is about bringing people together and celebrating what is important in our world, and I’d like to think that most people would celebrate Peacemas and Christmas (or Channukah or Kwanza or whatever your winter religious holiday might be) in harmony. So please don’t take any offense to Peacemas, it’s not meant as a disrespect to anyone’s religious views or celebrations!

Now that we’ve got THAT out the way…

The 7 Weeks of Peacemas project is meant to educate more people about Peacemas, the central holiday in my novel, I’ll Be Home for Peacemas (shameless plug in 3…2…1…) which is available for purchase in paperback and eBook format, click here to find out where you can buy a copy.

Peacemas Excerpt of the Week

If you’ve read the summary of I’ll Be Home for Peacemas you know that Bailey has quite the complicated family tree. To understand more about its roots, here’s a quick excerpt from Chapter 2:

I suppose it goes without saying that anything with roots in a lean-to wedding chapel sandwiched between an IHOP (site of the rehearsal dinner) and a bar (site of the reception) is probably destined for disaster. Unfortunately, my parents were so blinded by the powerful trio of love, rebellion, and alcohol that they failed to notice the army of red warning flags crowded into the hallowed halls of Wally’s Wedding Wonderland with them on that balmy summer night.

That’s a wrap!

If you’re still interested in learning more about Peacemas, its founder Olivia Flowers and her wild, crazy family I suggest reading an excerpt from I’ll Be Home for Peacemas. Or, you know, you could buy a copy. Just an idea!

Later days,

- Shannon

Spend a few years in any city and you will quickly identify your favorite eating establishments. Some might be local and unique, others not, but they all hold a special place in your heart (and more importantly, your stomach).

Months before my college roommates and I returned to our beloved Tallahassee for some Seminole football, we started putting together a food schedule to ensure that we would be able to hit all of our favorite establishments in two and a half days. The food schedule was revised through  multiple emails until we finally reached the perfect balance.

I now present to you, the perfect weekend of food, Tallahassee style:

1. Backyard Burger: BYB makes a delicious bacon cheeseburger (with cheddar, as it should be, American is for rubes) and a side of waffle fries that beat out all other fast food burger restaurants (fast food in this case being defined as “has a drive-thru window” and therefore excluding Five Guys). We loved BYB so much that even though Tallahassee’s franchise closed before we left town, we knew we had to start our trip with an 11:00 a.m. pit stop in Gainesville, the closest Backyard Burger (it should speak volumes that four Seminole fans willingly went to The Swamp just for a taste of BYB…incidentally if we’d had more time we would have gone to the restaurant The Swamp which makes an even more delicious burger…it hurts me to admit that Gainesville has anything good to offer to anyone ever).

2. One Fresh Stir Fry: Fresh ingredients, stir fried together with the sauce of your choice while you wait–could there be anything better? It saddens me that it took us three years to discover the joy of One, but we made the most of it during our remaining time in Tallahassee. Select all the vegetables you want, your choice of starch, some protein, sauce, plus a topper and you’re set! It’s a ton of food, great for leftovers and it’s DELICIOUS. My combo of choice: White rice, corn, tomatoes, carrots, teriyaki sauce and scallions–amazing!

3. Po’ Boys Creole Cafe: Tallahassee’s geographical location gives it a fantastic mix of flavors including Southern comfort, Gulf seafood and spicy creole flair — all of which are available at Po’ Boys. My favorite thing on the menu, without question, is the fried pickles. If you know anything about me you know that I have thing about fried pickles and therefore am qualified to tell you that Po’ Boys fried pickles are the best. Not too greasy, not too much batter, just right. Their shrimp po’ boy is also excellent, but it’s worth the stop just for the fried pickles. Trust me.

4. Guthries: I wouldn’t call myself a germophobe, but I would admit to being more cautious than the average person where sanitary issues are concerned. I am particularly leery of eating establishments that seem like they wouldn’t pass a health inspection in Tijuana, but I make one noted exception (provided that I only go through the drive-thru and never NEVER set foot inside or so much as peer in a window). Only after dark (and especially after a football game) can one fully appreciate the glory of Guthries. It is an establishment built to meet the needs of two demographics that frequently overlap: Southerners and drunks. This is not a drive-thru where difficult decisions must be made — your only option is to choose the quantity of chicken fingers you want to consume (a box or bucket). Guthries takes care of the rest.

A few quick facts about Guthries: You will be in line for a minimum of 30 minutes, you will not be able to wait until you get home to start eating and you will want to pay the extra 25 cents for additional sauce.

Bonus story: Two years ago my roommates and I made our first post-grad trip to Tally for a game and swung through Guthries around midnight after a football game. While waiting for our food, we turned and gawked at the car behind us in which the passenger was completely passed out hugging a giant teddy bear, a girl in the backseat was wearing an eyepatch, and the driver (THE DRIVER) was guzzling Grey Goose FROM THE BOTTLE while sitting behind the wheel in the drive-thru line. These are just the kinds of things that happen at Guthries.

5. Waffle House: On our final morning in Tallatacky we funneled into the Waffle House closest to our hotel and tried not to think about how close the building was to reaching fire code capacity. Remember how I said I make one exception to my sanitary standards for restaurants? I lied, I make two exceptions. Though I’m 97% certain you can contract dysentery (and cholera and other Oregon Trail type diseases) just from touching a Waffle House menu, the food undeniably contains the world’s greatest cure for hangovers. My favorite thing about Waffle House (aside from the waffles) is the practiced plate mathematics of true Waffle House patrons. Four people with four All-Star meals yields twelve plates on a tiny table, which is why my friends and I have our plate combinations down to a science, thus allowing the necessary space for quickly and efficiently devouring our food. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve never been to Waffle House.

6. Publix Chinese Food: Our final stop on the Tallahassee Food Tour of 2011 was the most nostalgic on our list. Though still stuffed with waffles, scrambled eggs and bacon, we could not leave the homeland without picking up some Publix Chinese Food (PCF) for the road. Only a handful of Publix grocery stores are lucky enough to have a chinese food section in their deli, and the Club Pub on Ocala Road happens to be one of them. Their bourbon chicken is the single best Chinese food entree ever made (make sure you ask them to pour extra sauce on the chicken and fried rice). Best of all for the college kid’s budget, a box will easily make two meals and even reheated (or inhaled cold while driving down I-10 toward home when you can’t resist the tantalizing smell anymore) this Chinese food is still spectacular.

I can’t wait to return to Tallahassee again. Maybe for a weekend…maybe for forever. The trip has left me with some lingering questions about my future, but more on that another time…

Later days,

- Shannon

(Hello, Shannon!)

…and I’ve been addicted to Florida State football for twenty-six years, eleven months and sixteen days.

If you know me at all, this announcement does not come as a surprise. For those who don’t know me that well, here are the cliff’s notes of my life’s obsession:

• In 1993, I made up my third grade mind to go to Florida State in the instant that the Seminoles won their first national championship.
• In 1998, I begged my parents to let me switch schools after all the smack I talked leading up to the ’97 championship loss to Those We Do Not Speak Of.
• In 2002, I sent in my application to FSU days before my senior year even started. I received my acceptance letter in October and never looked back.
• From 2003 – 2005 I attended 15 of the Seminoles’ 18 home games those three seasons. The team’s record when I was in attendance? 15-0. The team’s record when I was not in attendance? 0-3.
• From 2006 – 2008 I worked in the Sports Information office at FSU as an intern and graduate assistant while finishing both of my degrees. I met Bobby Bowden, spoke to Chris Weinke and came within five feet of Charlie Ward.

Since leaving Tallahassee in 2008, my friends and family would probably say that my addiction to Seminole football has lessened, but that’s a relative term. And if we’re being really honest, I think we’d all acknowledge that it’s not ever going away, it just becomes deceptively dormant until something sets it off again.

Something like, say, visiting Tallahassee with my former college roommates to see Florida State take on Maryland.

I need to tell you a quick story about Florida State and Maryland. Despite being a lifelong ‘Nole fan, I was eighteen years old before I saw my team in person for the first time. It was September 6, 2003 at Doak Campbell Stadium and the Seminoles were playing their home opener against the Maryland Terrapins. At the time, I was ridiculously obsessed with FSU’s quarterback, Chris Rix (I am ashamed to admit this, but they say honesty is the first step to recovery). Maryland had the first possession of the game and after a three-and-out, the Seminole offense, led by Rix, took the field around the ten yard line outside the North Endzone, 41 rows below my seat. It was the single happiest moment of my life to that point. Rix took the first snap, dropped back and did what he would be most remembered for by Seminole fans for years to come; he threw an interception.

Not just an interception, it was a pick-six that was returned into the aforementioned North Endzone for a Maryland touchdown. As the scoreboard changed to reflect the Terrapins’ 7-0 lead, fat rain drops began to plummet from the sky. Even now, eight years removed from that moment, I can’t accurately describe to you how devastating it was for me.

Fortunately, the rain passed quickly, as did the Seminoles’ struggles. FSU beat Maryland that day 35-10, launching my 15 game winning streak inside Doak Campbell Stadium (full disclosure: Although I did see the Seminoles march to victory at the 2005 Gator Bowl and 2005 ACC Championship, I also saw them lose to Penn State in triple overtime at the 2005 Orange Bowl–but inside Doak or Alltell Stadium, I’m money!)

Okay, so enough about my Seminole history. I’m going to let my photo collage describe my game day experience.

Now that we’ve covered my obsession with Florida State Football, tomorrow we have to address my other Tallahassee addiction: food.

Later days,

- Shannon