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Istanbul, Not Constantinople
Part the First
by J.T. Ellison
It’s been a long time coming, but at long last, Miss Tasha is the focus of her own cocktail party. And that’s not much of a stretch, because for those of us who know her and love her, every day is a party.
Tasha is one of those rare individuals – perpetually sunny, always eager to lend a helping hand to a fellow writer, generous to a fault, incredibly brilliant, a stunning writer, a beautiful girl, and one of those friends that you count on one hand. Well-rounded looks square compared to her. She is a true renaissance woman.
I met Tasha two years ago. I was (and still am) completely in awe. I mean really, how do you package the blinding light of a star? It’s terrible having her away, though the “I’m alive” updates and pictures have been heartening. We miss you desperately, sugar!
In honor of both the paperback release of A POISONED SEASON (we KNOW you’ve already rushed out and bought it) and the fact that she’s decamped and made her way to fabulous Istanbul, today is all about her.
Instead of a drink recipe, I’ll make a wine recommendation, something not out of the $4.99 bin, though our last party went down just fine with the cheap stuff. How about a nice Côtes du Rhône — 2006 Les Garrigues. I’m drinking it as we speak.
So let the grilling begin!
Stephen B: Istanbul? Not Constantinople?
Istanbul was Constantinople
Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople
Been a long time gone, Constantinople
Now it’s Turkish delight on a moonlit night
Delight on a moonlit night…..Did I mention I’m not coming back?
Renee R: We know that you’re embarking on an exciting research trip and I’m just curious about where you learned to speak fluent “Istanbulie”?
As a small child, I was kidnapped by a Bedouin sheik who sold me to a Turkish slave trader. My Little House on the Prairie pigtails led him to believe I was a demon, and he was afraid his money-back-guarantee would come back to bite him should he sell me. So instead he trained me to sing, and we haunted the city streets entertaining delighted crowds for two years before Interpol caught up with us. As a result, I can sing, though not speak, fluent Istanbulie.
Jim B: Does Istanbul, Turkey smell like Thanksgiving all the time?
So far, it’s all saffron, cardamom, and cinnamon. And I’m thinking I won’t come back.
Barry: Boxers or briefs?
Heheheheheheheh. I’ve got quite an image in my head.
Kristy: ASIDE from Darcy (and Tate from Catching Genius…formerly known as BRAD), who’s your biggest fictional crush?
How about I describe the guy, you point me to the book? He needs to be decisive, strong, emotional, funny, and highly skilled in certain ways. Any suggestions? I’m always up for a good read.
Joe K: Hampster Dance or Banana Dance?
I’m so very confused……Wheel in the cage keeps on turning?
Laura C: How do you channel a historical character when you are such a contemporary girl?
It helps that I have a severe and untreated case of Multiple Personality Disorder. It gets tricky when Victorian Emily wants to spar with Contemporary Tasha, but I always prefer it when things get interesting.
Jim B: Do you really wear a toupee?
I wish!
JT: In that case, how exactly does one go about getting magic princess hair?
Look, this is a trade secret guarded more carefully than the formula for Coke. Suffice it to say that those few, privileged individuals who have had the distinct pleasure of finding themselves in the room when I wake up know that the hair does indeed hold up overnight.
Joe K: Did you ever see Tremors with Kevin Bacon? I love that movie. Tremors 2, not so much.
I’ve not yet made it to Tremors in the Festival of Kevin Bacon. Now that I think about it, I never saw Footloose all the way through either. Not losing a whole lot of sleep over that one…….
(Editor’s Note: That’s just un-Amercian)
Barry: Barack or Hillary?
Look, I’ve had my heart broken one time too many times on the political front and, frankly, am tired of it. I’m building up a wall of defense that will come down before November. Until then, I’m keeping out of it.
Kristy: Spin the Bottle: goofy middle school party game? or terrifying metaphor for Life?
Sadly, terrifying metaphor for life, but I’m pretty sure the bottle has changed with time. Just remember, it’s all in the wrist.
Joe K: Who’s hotter, Neil Diamond or Barry Manilow?
I’m sorry. My sex drive just died. Send help at once; this is an emergency.
Renee R: Rumor has it that you read like a hundred + pages an hour–any advice for those looking to pick up the pace in the reading department?
I don’t know! I can’t help it! Only hint I have: skip the boring parts and don’t let a second of remorse creep into your brain.
Tasha’s Questions for you…
1. What would you like me to bring back for you from Istanbul?
2. David Mitchell v. Arthur Phillips: let’s settle this once and for all. (And you know, I’m going to meet Mr. Phillips this year!!!!)
3. Describe your ideal day.
4. What’s the most heart-wrenching song ever?