Guest Author Post: Linda Grimes and In A Fix

Book-Jumping and Theoretical Physics (only, yannoh, not as boring as that sounds)

When I was a kid, I thought it would be cool to be able to jump into books the way Mary Poppins and her charges, along with chimney sweep/artist Bert, jumped into sidewalk chalk drawings in the movie. (Not that I had anything against chalk drawings. I just thought books were a sound alternative for those of us who couldn't draw worth beans.)

I tried and tried to jump into my favorite books. The Trixie Belden mysteries, the Walter Farley Black Stallion novels, Anna Sewell's Black Beauty, Mary O'Hara's My Friend Flicka and Thunderhead (just about anything with a horse, really) all bore my footprints at one time or another. Almost made it once, too, but it turned out that was a dream. Which is too bad, because it was a great dream—Trixie's crush, the red-headed Jim Frayne, and I were all set to gallop off into the sunset on Flicka's colt, Thunderhead (hmm…I must have had a foot in each book), and that would have been amazing! Well, to my ten-year-old heart, anyway.  

Sadly, it never worked for me in actuality. If I'd had my own Hollywood special effects team I might have fared better.

I guess I never grew up, because I'd still love to jump into books. If I could hang out with Stephanie Plum and her buddy Lula, or get a few wizarding lessons from Harry Dresden, or maybe help Myron Bolitar solve a mystery, I wouldn't pass up the opportunity. I'd even jump (ha!) at the chance to travel through the stones back to the eighteenth century with Claire Beauchamp Randall, if only to engage in a *cough* philosophical discussion with one Jamie Fraser.

Of course, being of a more practical bent now that I'm not ten anymore, I'd have to be sure there are certain safety mechanisms in place before attempting any book-jumping. Some sort of harness maybe, like they use for bungee jumping. Figuratively speaking, of course, because a real harness would be bulky, and no doubt clash with whatever book-related clothing I'd be wearing. (Look, if we're going to assume book-jumping is possible, it's not such a stretch to imagine a figurative harness along with it. Work with me here!) Adventurous though I may be, I'd still like to make sure I survive to tell the tale.

But since actual book-jumping might turn out to be implausible, if not downright impossible (I refuse to concede to the impossibility of anything; hey, I got published—obviously, anything is possible), I'll settle for the next best thing: jumping into a world of my own creation.

Spending time with Ciel, Billy, and Mark is more fun than I should probably admit. I mean, an adult playing pretend all day—is that really an attractive trait? Shouldn't I be "working"? Aw, screw it. If your job doesn't feel like playing to you, you're not doing it right. Me, I'll be over here having some fun with the human chameleons.

To babble on a little further (hey, look at the name of this blog—I'm just trying to stick with the program), if theoretical physicists are to be believed (and who's trustworthy, if not a theoretical physicist?) then it's possible—likely, even, depending on which physicist you're talking to—there are multiple universes out there. So many, in fact, that they encompass every possible reality.

Which, to my way of thinking, means every book ever written is actually real somewhere. Perhaps not within jumping distance—yet—but, hey, you never know. Someday, with a really long theoretical bungee cord…

So, given the opportunity, which book would you jump into? 

Bio:

LINDA GRIMES is a former English teacher and ex-actress now channeling her love of words and drama into writing. She grew up in Texas and currently resides in northern Virginia with her husband.

 Available from Tor Books

Synopsis: Snagging a marriage proposal for her client while on an all-expenses-paid vacation should be a simple job for Ciel Halligan, aura adaptor extraordinaire. A kind of human chameleon, she’s able to take on her clients’ appearances and slip seamlessly into their lives, solving any sticky problems they don’t want to deal with themselves. No fuss, no muss. Big paycheck.

This particular assignment is pretty enjoyable... that is, until Ciel’s island resort bungalow is blown to smithereens and her client’s about-to-be-fiancé is snatched by modern-day Vikings. For some reason, Ciel begins to suspect that getting the ring is going to be a tad more difficult than originally anticipated.

Going from romance to rescue requires some serious gear-shifting, as well as a little backup. Her best friend, Billy, and Mark, the CIA agent she’s been crushing on for years—both skilled adaptors—step in to help, but their priority is, annoyingly, keeping her safe. Before long, Ciel is dedicating more energy to escaping their watchful eyes than she is to saving her client’s intended.

Suddenly, facing down a horde of Vikings feels like the least of her problems.