Interview With Pamela Beason

I'm at Writers Gone Wild today, introducing you to romance and mystery author, Pamela Beason. Stop by for a chance to win a copy of her debut contemporary romance, On Shaky Ground, coming from The Wild Rose Press this Friday.

Oh, and by the way, I forgot to mention I talked to a couple of female AF pilots the other day at the airshow. Must have skipped my mind after my tete-a-tete with the hot Herc pilot :)

They flew a refueling tanker, which I thought was awesome (Yes, I know. I'm a geek.). I did ask them a couple questions about the process because a refueling problem comes up in my latest WIP, and it's kind of pivotal because the ensuing action depends on the refueling going disastrously wrong. They were polite, but not as interested in talking with me as the Herc pilot. Huh. I wonder why that was?

Showing My Inner Geek: Air Force Research

Had another whirlwind weekend. Friday night we went to Cirque Du Soleil, followed by dinner right on the water at False Creek. Saturday I cleaned up the house and yard to get ready for my RWA chapter summer get together on Sunday. Then a bit of a monkey wrench.

We were supposed to go to the air show just before lunch, but due to hubby having to go into the office for a few hours, that didn't happen. By the time he finished up, we had less than two hours left before the show closed. I was not impressed. I desperately wanted to see some aircraft featured in my current WIP, and I didn't want to drag two fighting kids around with me while I did so. I let my displeasure with my hubby be known, and we finally headed out to the show. The kids fell asleep on the way, so they stayed in the van with DH while I went in myself. Was I going to pass up the opportunity to see Hercs and Globemasters up close just because my family wasn't interested? Hell no. Their loss.

It was over ninety freaking degrees outside, and probably close to a hundred on the tarmac. What I didn't count on was being able to meet the air crews, and actually talk to them. It threw me. I felt like a total dork because I was all by myself with this little yellow sundress on (not exactly air show attire), but whatever. I needed to see these planes firsthand. There are plenty of Canadian military aircraft around, but I ignore all of them and head straight over to the planes stamped USAF.

First stop was the C-5 Galaxy, pictured at left. This thing is monstrous, and I have no idea how it gets off the ground. In this shot they're unloading a Pave Hawk (special ops version of the H-60 Black Hawk), but unfortunately I didn't get to see one of those at the show. Probably just as well because I would have drooled all over it :)



Next stop was the C-17 Globemaster, which was impressive in itself. Could easily park a semi in there and still have room to spare. The sides of the interior are lined with jump seats (see below), and it regularly flies with two loadmasters on the crew.













But what I really came to see was the C-130, or Hercules. It's the four-prop workhorse of the military, and it's been around a long time. The heroine of my Bagram series is the co-pilot of the souped-up heavily armed version of the Herc, known appropriately as the Spooky. There aren't many of them around, so I intended to take a close look at the 130 and imagine the rest. So, no surprise I made a beeline for the Herc sitting with its tailramp down. Trying to ignore my sudden nervousness, I approached the men from the Alaska Air Reserve standing there in their flight suits.

The back end crew were in their forties or fifties, and very sweet to me. They gave me a tour of the cargo area, politely answering all my questions about the Spooky. The loadmaster showed me where the weapons and electronics systems would be, and talked about its range, average air speed, etc. Then he called the pilot over to answer some specifics about the flight deck. This is where I got tongue tied. He was young and damn good looking and I just about completely froze. (Katie, where are you when I need you!!!)

Him: "Hi, ma'am. Can I help you with anything?"

Me: Uh...
Oh my God. I'm all sweaty and gross, and here's this gorgeous pilot in front of me.
Say something! You look like an idiot! "Um, can I see the cockpit?"

"We've closed it off because it's too hot up there, but you can take a look through the floor if you like."

I follow him forward and get my first look up at the front seats and the bank of electronics and instruments. It's so hot the backs of my knees are sweating. I can feel my dress sticking to me, and I just know my hair's gone all wild and curly.

The pilot faces me with a smile, his deep blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "Ever been in a Herc before?"

"No, this is my first time." I'm absolutely not blushing because he's easy on the eyes and mildly flirtatious, I tell myself. My heart is beating hard and my face is red simply because I'm about to have heat stroke.

"Well welcome aboard."

Oh yeah. He's got that alpha-male, charismatic thing down pat. And man, he's really good looking.

Say something intelligent. "Uh...What altitude to you generally fly at?"

"Depends, but I like low and slow."

He says it with a distinct lowering of his voice. Now it's even hotter in here, and the twinkle in his eye isn't helping. Oh my God, I'm a cougar.
"In the day we can go as low as 200 feet, and at night with NVGs--You know what NVGs are?"

"I do."

Another grin. "With NVGs we can go to 500 feet."

That's pretty freaking low, especially in a place like Afghanistan, with all the sharp mountain peaks in the northeast half of the country. We chatted a bit more about the kinds of missions he flies. Air drops mostly, to resupply teams in the field, or civilians needing aid. But they can also do troop transport, medevac and recon missions. I asked if dropping from higher altitudes made for a low success rate. He said no, because the parachutes used to deploy equipment actually have GPS systems in them. Who knew? And, as it turned out, this particular reserve Captain has been to Iraq once, and 6 times to Afghanistan.

Anyone who's read my books knows how much I love talking about military action in Afghanistan. I'm practically vibrating inside.

After taking all this in, I flounder for something sensible to say. "When you fly medevac over there, are the patients transported to Landstuhl?"

"No, we take 'em to Bagram."

I open my mouth to say I meant after Bagram, wishing I'd phrased it differently so I looked like I had a clue.

"From Bagram they're transported in bigger aircraft to Landstuhl or Ramstein."

I nod, still stuck on the magic word Bagram. My heart starts beating even faster.

Here it was: the perfect opportunity to ask him everything I'd ever wanted to know about Bagram, flying in Afghanistan, and maybe find out if he knew any PJs over there. Did I ask him any of these burning quesitons? Nope. Too wound up inside. My mind's gone blank.

We chat a bit more about flying, his career, etc. Then he tilts his head and gives a little smile. "What do you do for a living, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm a massage therapist." Why does that suddenly have less-than-proper overtones for some reason?

His grin widens. "Just seems like you know more about all this than the average person."

"Oh, well I'm...I'm a writer." I clear my throat and glance away, up into the safety of the cockpit. It's waaay too damn hot in here, but he doesn't seem to notice. I have the impression he'd stand there and answer my questions all day. "The character in my book is a female Spooky pilot." I don't dare tell him it's a romance.

"Oh. Wow, that's really great."

I think it's great, but I'm a geek.

I asked him a few more inane questions, then someone from the air show came up to talk about his itinerary. I waited a few moments and picked my moment, thanked him quickly, wished him well on his upcoming deployment. Then I left. The second I exit the aircraft a breeze hits my sweaty skin, and thank God.

"Bye!"

I turn around to see all three crewmen standing on the tail ramp, waving at me. My face gets even redder as I smile and wave back. Who knew I was still this self-conscious around a bunch of good-looking men? I hurried back across the baking tarmac on my way to the parking lot. As I turned the corner and glanced back, they were still standing there. They waved again; I waved back. The Snowbirds (Canada's version of the Blue Angels) were performing overhead, but I didn't much care. I was too busy kicking myself for freezing back there. When am I ever going to get the chance to talk to a 130 pilot again? There are so many things I wished I'd asked him.

Still, I'm glad I got to see the aircraft and get a feel for it, because that'll only make the scenes more vivid when I write them. But I learned an imporant lesson. Next year I'm taking a list of questions with me!

Military Special Ops Research

I'm over at Skhye Moncrief's blog today discussing some of the research I've done on military special ops for Cover of Darkness and the rest of my series. Pop over and say hi!

Belly Dance: Not Just For Greek Restaurants

By now if you've been reading my blog you know what a research nut I am. My second release is due out next month, and I thought I'd share some research I did for Cover of Darkness. It features a Navy SEAL, so of course I devoured about a half dozen books on SEAL training and past missions, including Lone Survivor, which is still one of my favorite books. The heroine is Bryn, from Out of Her League. She's half-Lebanese, and moonlights as a belly dance instructor when she's done her day as a social worker. I was already pretty familiar with her from writing the first book, but I knew squat about belly dancing other than what I'd seen at Greek restaurants. So, naturally I signed up for classes. Turns out there are different kinds of belly dance, but I started with cabaret style, the kind most people are familiar with.

I started my classes about a month or so into the drafting phase, and I loved it. Loved. It. My second son was only eight months old, so on top of getting me out of the house for some exercise away from the gym and giving me some adult interaction, it gave me the best ab workout I've ever had. Even better than the core classes at the gym. And there's something intensely powerful about belly dance. Want to feel ultra feminine and erotic? Try belly dance. I'm telling you, there's nothing better to get in touch with your inner diva than shaking it to Shakira (also half-Lebanese, by the way). It's empowering.

I loved dancing so much that I wound up caving in and performing for a while, which my husband loved :). And before you all point out the obvious, yes, I realize I'm in desperate need of a tan in these photos.


After performing for a while, however, I wasn't enjoying it as much anymore. Too much pressure for something I'd taken up as a hobby. Let's face it, I had more than my share of pressure during my years as a competitive softball pitcher facing national and international-level batters. Dancing was meant to be fun, for crying out loud. I didn't want to be stressing over memorizing complicated choreography and worrying about wardrobe malfunctions. So I stopped.

But I missed it. Not the performing, but the dancing. I missed feeling sultry and alluring and strong all at the same time. Missed moving to those heavy, exotic beats and getting a fabulous workout that didn't really feel like a workout. So I started up again last week, and I'm loving it. I adore feeling that burn in my abs and butt again! My hubby's pretty excited, too. I'll be posting more about belly dance as the February 26th release date for COD approaches, but I'm hoping I inspired at least a few of you to give it a try. There are some good DVDs about belly dance instruction if you're too chicken to join a class. Rachel Brice and Jillina are two of my favorites,so you can check them out online. I once took a very intense one day seminar from Jillina, and was sore for a week afterward. It was awesome :). We learned new combos and layered different movements while using veils. Very sultry and mysterious. In a later post I'll talk about a Tribal belly dance seminar I took, and maybe even get the fabulous teacher to do a post. She's amazing!

Today is a gorgeous day in Vancouver, and the sun is sparkling off the water in my little town. After I pick the big guy up from school later, I'm going to take the boys for an ice cream and walk on the pier to see the purple starfish that like to cling to the rocks at the end of it. It's little warmer than usual for mid-January, so warm the cherry blossoms are coming out two months early. That's going to look a little odd to the world when they see coverage of the Winter Olympics in a few weeks' time. But hey, I'm loving it, since January is usually so gray and rainy. And to burn off the ice cream, I'll do some shimmying and locks later on. Now get out there and dance! If you've never tried belly dance, do. You won't be sorry :)

Research Heaven

I don't think I've ever had so much fun researching a book. No, strike that. I know I haven't. I'm an eyelash away from finishing the first draft, and raring to get to the editing stage where I can go back and add all the neat little tidbits I've picked up along the way in this researching journey.

I already posted about the Navy pilot I interviewed and the other contacts I've been put in touch with, but I just had the most amazingly informative conversation with an Army medevac pilot. He has a lot of experience flying Black Hawks (pictured at the beginning of this post), and took time out of his day at the firehall to go through a list of questions I had. The info and level of detail he gave me was incredible, and will hopefully allow me to add a depth of flavor to the manuscript that wasn't there before. Used sparingly of course, like truffle oil or saffron in a gourmet recipe. I hope it seemed to him like I had done my homework and had a clue, but maybe not. I'll have to ask my ball player buddy later on what her buddy thought of our conversation :)

My hubby came home from doing errands shortly after I'd finished the phone call and I immediately dragged him over to my whirring laptop to show him all the notes I'd made. He pasted on an interested smile and nodded a lot, but I'm sure he wasn't even one percent as excited as I am. But what's not to be excited about? This is fascinating stuff! Plus, my PJ contact (and can I just say that I have a huge crush on all PJs?) came through with some really valuable information, giving me as much as he could without compromising classified material. And to top it off, Santa bought me the book I'd asked for that came out recently about PJs in Afghanistan. Basically, I'm in research heaven. There's not a lot of information out there regarding PJs (maybe because there aren't very many of them), so this book is a really valuable source. Loving this! Now to finish off that pesky first draft...

It's a Small World

Connections are strange and wonderful things sometimes. For instance, my current project features female aviators and Pararescue Jumpers, and the book is set in Afghanistan. Books and Internet research are great starting points, but I wanted to go a step further and talk to people who have walked the walk, if you know what I mean.

It occurred to me that an old ball playing buddy of mine (We were on the Canada Games team together, but she went on to the 2000 and 2004 Olympics. She's one of those naturally talented athletes that the rest of us would just have to hate if she wasn't so damn nice) used to be married to a special ops pilot. I remember having an in-depth conversation about Navy SEALs and their training one of the last times I saw her when she came home from the States. You gotta admit, that's not a common thing to talk about, especially for women--and Canadians at that, eh? :) Plus, who else would have cared, let alone understood what the heck I was talking about? Love you, Jackie!

She had made many connections in her years stateside, and is now a firefighter in New Mexico. Anyhow, I shot her an e-mail asking if she might be able to put me in contact with someone who could share some insider knowledge about flying Black Hawks, and Pararescue Jumpers. Less than a day later she responded saying, "I work with a retired PJ and a retired Black Hawk pilot." Holy hell, talk about a small world!

The information I've garnered so far is invaluable, plus I love getting an inside scoop from service members that have been out in the field. This makes me odd, I know, but I have two stacks of books on my bedside table: special ops non-fiction, and romances. What can I say, it works for me. Just last week my hubby was in bed next to me reading his Sports Illustrated (unless there's a baseball article, I'm not really interested). He looks over and sees me reading a text on SERE training and says, "You're weird." Yeah, I guess I am.

This past weekend I also met with my dad's flight instructor and a retired Canadian Navy helo pilot who was involved in a crash to get a realistic feel of what that would be like for my heroine, Devon Crawford, a medevac pilot. Both meetings were incredibly interesting.

I'm having a great time researching this, almost moreso than writing it! Who knows who I'll meet next in my research travels? I can't wait to find out.