Make me an offer

No, that's not directed at my publishers or future publishers. [Well, not really.]

That was the theme of today's garage sale. I spent the day lounging in the driveway amid tables of junk hoping people would give me money and then haul it away.

Amazingly we had to drag a lot of stuff back to the basement at the end of the day. Even some brand new, never played with toys didn't get any interest, but we sold old stuffed animals by the bag full, Barbie's in desperate need of a day at the spa, children's books my son's old bike and an old curio cabinet.

We walked away with enough to go out to dinner [at the diner]. The kids were happy. They got the equivalent of a couple weeks' allowance out of the deal and I got them to clean out their closets of the stuff they never play with.

What's up for tomorrow? Absolutely nothing. And I'm looking forward to it.

And yes...ARF

What is the deal with rain on Friday?? And why would the Middle School schedule a field trip to the Bronx Zoo on a day that is destined to rain?

Yesterday's afternoon Middle School Announcement: [Source DD]: Attention all Seventh Grade students attending tomorrow's field trip. The Field Trip will be Tomorrow.

Collective response from students: Duh!

My tax dollars, hard at work.

My week is up

I think my experiment worked.

I spent a week purposely not rushing around, over-cramming my daily agenda with more stuff than I could possibly get done in a day, and not dwelling on all the things I wasn’t doing rather than the things I was doing.

The world didn’t end.

What did happen? Well...in addition to the usual chores of cooking, moderate cleaning and keeping everyone else on their schedules...

* I did the food shopping
* Rearranged two dentist appointments
* Did some editing
* Signed a new contract with Samhain
* Prepared and priced a mountain of old junk for my garage sale
* Finished preparing two boxes of promo bookmarks for NJRW
* Wrote several thousand words on my WIP
* Did some laundry
* Re-caulked the bathroom
* Read two books
* Changed the carpeting in the foyer
* Enjoyed Mother’s Day

I can’t be sure I would have gotten more or less done the old way, but to be honest I’d say it came out about even – well, I doubt I would have done the caulking. I’ve been putting that off for a long time.

What have I learned? Things get done whether I worry about getting them done or not. I still function even when I’m not stressed.

I still manage to feel guilty about not being stressed or not worrying about things, though. There’s always that nagging doubt that if I don’t worry about things, over-schedule myself, do two or three things at once and obsess about not being able to do five or ten things at once, that somehow I’m not striving to meet my full potential.

I know that’s sick, but it took 40 years to develop that mind set. I doubt I can erase it in a week. Much like my diet, which continues despite my overwhelming desire to eat several forms of chocolate every day, I plan to continue this ‘experiment’ and see just how long I can go without mentally beating myself up over not maximizing every millisecond of my existence.

I’m concerned it might become too easy to relax instead of running my butt off, though. What if all this lack of self-imposed stress leads to laziness? What if my ambition dries up completely and I begin to aspire to spending long stretches of time doing absolutely nothing, and liking it?
I guess I still have a long way to go. But I’m going to keep trying.

The Lure of Bounty Hunters

Let me start by wishing everyone a Happy Mother’s Day! I hope you have a good one.
In addition to playing with my Mother’s Day present [the Endless Ocean game for the Wii] I’ll be hopping around cyberspace talking about my newest release from Amber Heat which is available today!

For a spicy excerpt of Thieves in Paradise drop in on my post at Amber Allure/Amber Heat Authors Blog today!




Thieves In Paradise by Bernadette Gardner
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-270-5 (Electronic)



In the meant time I'll leave you with my other Mother's Day present - a drawing of my favorite Pokemon - Oddish.
Who could ask for more? A new release, an endless ocean to explore and an animated raddish?
Have a great one!

ARF - Another Rainy Friday

What is it about Fridays? It always seems to rain.


I know a lot of things can cause rain - for instance, leaving the car window open is a sure fire way to get it to rain. Especially at night, because there's nothing the universe likes more than to have you wake up to a sopping wet driver's seat when you have to be at work in 45 minutes.


Picnics cause rain. Especially holiday picnics. Outdoor weddings also, but for some reason any event that includes a tent will have less effect on the weather than an event that does not include a tent.


Garage sales to a lesser extent cause rain, but since there are soooo many of them, the law of averages can often work in your favor. It can't rain on every garage sale, so yours might be spared.


Roofing projects cause rain. Having the entire second story of your house open to the elements has been known to cause monsoons.


And having the house painted also causes rain. I don't see why meteorologists need all kinds of computers to predict weather when the signs are so obvious. Friday + having house painted = rain. Who needs satellites?


Speaking of having the house painted:





Remember hillside green?


Well it looks more like pea green in the sunlight.




So we’re going to have ‘the weird color house’ on the block.
Yay.

The way the universe works

I’ve learned a lot about the way the universe works this week and by paying some attention to the universe, received a small gift in return.

I got my fridge fixed.

You might say, wasn’t she ranting about that damn fridge weeks ago? Didn’t it take two MONTHS for the repair service to locate the correct parts? Haven’t four different technicians been to her house, tossed up their hands and shook their heads at what was shaping up to become a ‘situation with no resolution?’

Yes. That was me. So how can I consider having my fridge finally repaired to be a gift?
Easy. After I said I didn’t want it, I got it anyway.

Here’s what happened. Once we received the third new door insert and discovered that six of the three dozen end caps we’d received actually fit into the six holes of the door, DH called the repair service and told them we needed someone on our doorstep PRONTO. They told us they could come on Tuesday morning between 8:00 AM and 12:00 PM.

Good enough. At 8:00 AM on Tuesday the repairman called to say we were the 11th stop on his list and he couldn’t possibly get to us before late afternoon.

Natch. Why should anything go right? I appreciated the call, though. At least I wasn’t holding my breath between 8 and 12. At 4:30 however, I was. The kids were ravenous at this hour – Tuesdays we eat early since DH isn’t home and for some reason they’re ready to eat their own sneakers as soon as homework is done. I felt like getting out of the house, so I told them we’d go out to eat.

Problem: still waiting for Fridge Guy. So I called the repair service and asked what his ETA might be. They of course had no idea, so I cancelled the service call and rescheduled for Thursday morning – emphasizing that I wanted him here between 8 and 12 – not some amorphous time in the PM. They agreed and as always, cheerily thanked me for using their service – as if I had a choice.

Off we went to eat. We were gone a little over an hour and as we pulled back into the driveway, a van pulls up across the street. Lo and behold, it’s Fridge Guy!! [He’d received the cancellation notice, but thought he’d come by just to take a chance.] What could I say but ‘Come on in!’ He fixed the fridge. I have shelves. The universe gave me a pat on the head. Life is good.

Writing in an ever-expanding universe

I'm over at Star-Crossed Romance today talking about the width and depth and breadth of our imaginary worlds. Drop by and say hello!



PS: I HAVE SHELVES ON MY REFRIGERATOR DOOR AGAIN!!! Will wonders never cease? News at 11:00.

Time Travel - Day 2

I'm working on 48 hours of calm here.

I seem to be getting the hang of not rushing myself. It's not so much about doing things more slowly, as not worrying about what I'm NOT doing.

The day seemed to stretch out a little longer today, like I had more time, because I wasn't sitting here thinking about how many loads of laundry I could get done or trying to put off things until the 'best' time to do them in order to maximize every moment of the day.

I just went with the flow. I finished a 3,000 word expansion of my short sci-fi adventure for Samhain. Now that has to sit for a while before I go back and edit it.

I do feel like I've accomplished something for the day, and I'm now allowing myself to dwell on what still needs to be done. That's what tomorrow is for.

So far so good. Wish me luck!

An Experiment in Time

Okay, time for another epihany. Time. Get it? Time...LOL.

Attempt at humor: Failed. Oh well.

On with the experiment. This week I've been reading a book called How Did I Get So Busy by Valorie Burton. Non-Fiction. It's a 28-Day plan to 'free your time, reclaim your schedule, and reconnect with what matters most.'

Since I don't have 28 days to anything, much less fix my schedule, I'm speeding up the plan a bit. The book is full of a lot of 'duh' type advice about cutting things out of your schedule that you don't really need to do and learning to say 'no' to extra projects, etc. And I will say a lot of it is geared toward single people who already make a lot of money and have realized that while they have all the material things they want, their lives are pretty empty. I'm of the belief that it's easier for someone who lives alone and makes $100K a year to have a 'let me slow down' epiphany than it is for someone who has a family and is just scraping by, but I do buy into the idea of visualizing the kind of life you want to lead and then making that life happen.

Since I was single, I have been visualizing the life of a successful novelist, ie, having enough money to live at a slower pace and enjoy raising my children while working at a job I love. Of course that's easier said than done, let's face it. But I am working at it. I've come a long way in the past few years and I know I still have father to go.

On that note, I've decided to work a little harder at not stressing myself out. [A paradox you say?] Hmm. Yep. Probably. But just because something is a paradox doesn't mean it can't be done.

I've decided to try an experiment for the next week. Hold on to your hats, it's a doozy.

I'm going to SLOW DOWN.

What? How can I even think such blasphemy? After all, I live in the NY/NJ Metropolitan area. Everything and everyone here moves at Warp 10 all the time. The drive to succeed, to make money, to keep up with the Jones's is overwhelming. Everything must be done yesterday, or better yet last week, and if you slow down you get run over.

But I'm going to give it a shot anyway. She says while frantically typing on her computer. I'm going to slow my pace down from the 'frantic-soccer-mom [okay, Winter Guard mom], running in three directions at once, gotta do it all and do it all now' gear I've been in and dial back my motor to 'take it easy, there's time for everything.'

She's nuts, you say. She'll be road kill inside two days.

Mmm. Maybe. But I've been road kill before and bounced back. Hence the 'experimental nature' of this experiment.

So, once again, in a nutshell, here's my plan: I'm going to move slower, think slower, do everything slower and not worry about getting every single thing in my life done ahead of time so that I can rush onto the next project and be ahead of the game. Therein, I think, lies my stress problem. I'm ALWAYS trying to get 'ahead of the game.' I always feel like if I can just do a little bit extra, stock up on projects, utilize every spare minute of every day, I will somehow reach that magical moment in time when everything is finished and I can relax.

Well, in all seriousness, I've been striving toward that moment for last 17 years and it ain't happened yet. There's never been a moment that I can remember that my laundry was all done, my house was all clean, my stories were all written, my chores were all finished. It's never happened, and guess what I figured out? It's probably never going to. So what am I striving toward?

What would happen if I spent a week just striving toward finishing one thing at a time, instead of trying to figure out how I can do three things at once? What would that be like?

I plan to find out. Wish me luck. And if I get run over by the traffic of life, would you do me a favor and scrape my remains toward the side of the road? Thanks.

I don't know how to...

...take a day off.

Today I need the day off. I think allergies are catching up to me. I've had one of those low-grade, annoying headaches all week, with pressure behind my eyes. I'm tired. I've decided not to go into the office - and it's a very hard decision to make.

Why? I wish I knew. Other people have no problem taking a day off. DH for instance never feels guilty about his days off, which are spent [I grudingly admit] as one should spend a day off. He lounges in front of the TV and relaxes.

On my 'days off' I do a few extra loads of laundry. I clean closets. I make ambitious plans to reorganize the entire house and parts of the Northern Hemisphere.

I can't relax.

I really wish I knew why. I have this constant, driving need to be doing something contructive at all times until my head explodes. I really hate it. I mean, I like to get things done. I like to be busy actually, and on the rare occasion I really don't have anything to do, I usually start some new project, but sheesh, I just can't shut it off.

Today should be spent lounging on the couch, watching my Torchwood DVDs or reading for pleasure. A nice breakfast, a leisurely lunch, a phone call to a friend. Meanwhile I'm sitting here frantically blogging, and planning which room I will tackle first and thinking how nice it will be to get a jump on the laundry. I already have a craft project swimming around in my head and my mind is spinning with revisions for short story I just sold to Samhain [more on that later].

Why can't I just take a sick day like the rest of world and curl up with a blankie and a cupa tea?

Don't know. Can't do it. Help!

Thieves in Paradise

Okay...here's the sneak peek I promised from Thieves in Paradise coming May 11th:


Charity sat in the feeble shelter provided by the port wing of the Antarean’s shuttle. He’d taken the unnecessary precaution of fastening the kevlex tether to one of the shuttle’s landing struts while he climbed on the nose of the craft and removed the huge tree limbs that had landed on the wind screen. Her assurances that she had no intention of trying to escape in this weather had been met with stoic indifference.

Even partially protected from the driving rain, she was shivering and exhausted. The only consolation she found in this otherwise hopeless situation was that the bounty hunter had nearly fallen off the slippery bow of the shuttle twice during his efforts to dislodge the branches, and he seemed suitably vexed by the crack in the glass.

At the moment he lay spread-eagle against the forward hull while he attempted to shove the second limb free of the ship. At least he hadn’t expected her to help. But that left her with little to do except ruminate on how she could possibly escape from him.

After a while she ran out of imaginary scenarios, and now she was left with nothing else to do but study his impressive physique.

Paid bloodhound or not, by the Goddess, he was put together well.

Though most of his body was covered in mud at the moment, his corded muscles rippled with every movement. The fallen tree limbs were each as thick around as her waist, yet he moved them with relative ease. A human would have required help, maybe even machinery, to complete the daunting task.

She wondered what made such a fine male specimen loyal to a runt like Gar Gremin. It had to be money. Since he hadn’t even acknowledged her offer to split her take with him, the Magistrate of Valencia must have offered him something substantially more valuable that a quarter million credits.

That left Charity short at the bargaining table. If he wasn’t interested in money, what could she trade him for her freedom?

That thought lead her curious gaze to his firm backside and his massive thighs and, despite the icy rain, her face went hot.

She couldn’t. She would never—had never—bartered her body, even with men who would have willingly accepted such a proposition.

She wasn’t that kind of woman, and she’d steadfastly refused to let circumstances dictate a compromise in her values. Just because she’d grown up struggling on one of the galaxy’s poorest colonies, didn’t mean she had to rely on her body to make a living when her brain could get her so much further.

Nevertheless, he was certainly a prime candidate for debauchery. His face was handsome enough, despite what seemed to be a perpetual scowl of disapproval, and he moved with sensual, almost predatory grace that hadn’t escaped her attention, especially when her wet body had been plastered against his.

He’d be huge, no doubt, a challenge for her physically...ooh, but what fun it might be to peel off his tight flight suit and see for herself what an Antarean cock looked like.

“Goddess bless me, I’ve lost my mind!” As quickly as the wind-driven rain changed direction, reality intruded on her uncharacteristic sexual fantasy and Charity’s thoughts careened back to the problem at hand.

She’d sooner shoot the bounty hunter than fuck him. Obviously the relentless rain and mind-numbing discomfort had made her delirious.

* * * *

Kol’s boots hit the squelching mud and he sank to his ankles in front of the shuttle. At least he’d managed to remove the branches. Now he had to worry about getting atmo sealant to set in this humidity. He calculated at least six hours before they’d be able to lift off, and by then he’d be half out of his mind trying to interpret the true meaning of his erotic vision.

He swung around to glance at his captive and looked away quickly when their eyes met. She’d been watching him work, no doubt planning her next nefarious scheme. Magistrate Gremin had warned Kol about Charity Foster. She was smart, fast, and could talk her way into or out of just about anything. That’s how she’d ended up in Gremin’s monthly game of High Aces where she’d cheated him out of four million in selenite.

Granted, it seemed it was more Gremin’s pride than his purse that had taken a beating in the game, and cheating at High Aces was not a federal offense, but Kol had taken the job because the price was right and he had a personal dislike of cheaters of any kind.

His job would be much easier if she looked guilty. Right now, she seemed small and defenseless. The mud and rain had left her blond hair stringy and plastered to her skull, all but obscuring the decorative purple streak. Her face was smudged and her slender body trembled with the cold.
He could have secured her inside the shuttle, but short of tying her to a seat, she’d have had access to the controls and his supplies, and he couldn’t trust her not to sabotage his mission.
She raised her graceful brows at his approach and swiped at the chilly drops of rain that hung from the tips of her dark lashes. “Now what?”

“I have to apply the sealant on the inside of the glass.” He unhooked the kevlex tether from the landing strut and then from the cuffs and directed her toward the shuttle’s hatch. “I’ll be watching you closely. Don’t try to escape.”

She rolled her golden eyes at him. “Where in Goddess’s name would I go? Face it, flyboy, you’ve got me. I’m your prisoner.”

He didn’t like the emphasis she put on the word prisoner. There seemed to be a sexual innuendo there that made his thoughts circle round to the vision he’d been trying so hard to forget. Had her hands been tied when he’d fucked her? Kol would never force himself on a female, certainly not a captive and certainly never a non-Antarean, yet the idea of pushing her bound hands above her head and settling her hips against his made his cock stir uncomfortably.

Did he only imagine the flirty tilt of her head and the secretive smile as she passed by on her way into the shuttle? Her rounded ass swayed a little as she lifted one leg and climbed into the ship. He dared not follow right away, but instead stood for a moment in the driving rain, allowing the cold water to soothe the sudden flush that traveled up from his groin.

He would not use her. Even if she begged him to.

I got cover art!

My next release will be available on May 11, 2008 as part of the Amber Quill Alien Nation Pax. I got the cover art this morning for Thieves in Paradise...

Here's the blurb:

Kol A’Kosu, an Antarean bounty hunter, is on the trail of another rim colony criminal. Gifted with visions that show him future events, he’s already seen himself capturing Charity Foster, the beautiful Human selenite thief, but that’s not all he’s seen. His visions have never been wrong before, but this time there must be a mistake. He can’t possibly take a Human as a bond mate, or worse, subject her to the painful rite of separation, the only way to dissolve the intense sexual link that draws Antarean couples together.

Charity faces certain death at the hands of the Magistrate of Valencia, but before she loses her life, she’ll lose her heart to the man assigned to bring her to justice.

Stay tuned for a sneak peek...

Cockeyed optimism is over rated

Let me start by saying, I’ve read The Secret and I am a firm believer that a positive attitude can help create positive results a solid 85% of the time.

That being said, realism and optimism are definitely at different ends of the spectrum and will always remain so.

Case in point – my day yesterday.

I planned on getting a few errands done and I figured they would be relatively easy. While DH waited at home for our SIXTH visit from the fridge repair guy [yes, don’t even ask], I went out to the library to renew a book and to the bank to return some items to a safe deposit box. How hard could these things be, right?

Well, at the library, the computers were down. So I could not renew the book because, and I quote the library employee with whom I spoke, “That would be too many things to do manually.”

Eh? This is a very small town. When I say small, I mean the south end of town is just north of the north end of town. That’s how small it is. The library has seven books in it. Six outdated encyclopedias and one copy of The Amityville Horror [the book I was renewing for DD]. Seriously, on a weekday morning in the middle of April, how much ‘manual’ labor did they think they’d have to do if the computers were down, even for a whole day?

How did the library manage to operate before there were computers? They never had a staff of thousands. The same four people have worked there for 200 years [I’m exaggerating, 199 years] and way back when, they did everything MANUALLY.
I shrugged and said I would come back later.

Off I went to the bank. There, it took the bank clerk fifteen minutes and three different keys to figure out how to open the little bank vault door behind which my safe deposit box resides. Typical bank question: “Are you sure this is the right number box?” No, I’m not sure. I chose a number randomly. “Are you sure you have the right key?” No, this may be the key to my offshore account in the Seychelles.

There was twisting and turning and expressions of dismay and finally, she turned the key IN THE OTHER DIRECTION, and it opened.

No way. You would think that even in a small town such as this, a bank with literally hundreds of safe deposit boxes would have enough traffic that the clerks would know instinctively which way the keys turn. This was not a new employee, btw. Now, you might say, hey, anyone can make a mistake. Heavens, I drove halfway across town with my parking break on a few months ago and DD is still laughing about it. We’re all only human. I wouldn’t even complain except a second bank employee had to open the little door to put the box back when I was done with it, and she did the exact same thing. Struggle, struggle, struggle, twist, turn, sigh, try three other keys and finally turn it in the other direction. Behold! It opens.

Then I went home to discover that the fridge repair guy wasn’t coming because the dispatcher told him we cancelled the service call. We didn’t.

We put in a new service call and finally the technician arrived around 2:00. He did the same thing the other five guys have done. He wrote down the part number of the fridge, typed it into his portable computer and ORDERED THE PARTS the computer told him to order. So two weeks from now we can expect to receive THE WRONG parts again and he can come back and tell us the parts don’t fit.

So what’s the Secret to not blowing a gasket? I vote for high doses of sedatives. Or extreme sarcasm, whatever works for you.

The value of limits

We talk a lot about the value of having choices. I consider myself very lucky to live in a society where I have an abundance of choices available to me. I can choose my religion, my political party, my career, my spouse. Those choices are priceless and I'm of the belief they are inalienable and should belong to all people.

In addition to these fundamental choices about my life, I can choose what clothes to wear and where to buy them. I can choose how to do my hair and what color I want it to be. I can even choose the color of my eyes if I want to spend extra money on colored contact lenses. I can choose to have a pet or three, I can pick where I want to go on vacation subject to my budget and I decorate my house as I choose. When I go to the supermarket I have dozens of cereals, types of bread, juice, meat, tea, fruit and cookies - all at my disposal. Anything I want, I just have to choose it.

So why is it sometimes better to have fewer choices?

One of the pitfalls of having too many choices is [and I'm not looking a gift horse in the mouth, mind you] that it can take too long to make a decision and you have all the more time and ability to second guess yourself. Out of 200 breakfast cereals, how do you know which one is the best? You can try them all, but most of them you won't like. You can choose based on calorie or fiber content, or the color of the box. You can choose by price and availability, or you can spend all day comparing nutritional value until you make the most informed and intelligent choice you can make. Same thing with car insurance, or bicycle tires. Too many things today require a PhD of some sort in order to choose them properly.

One thing I learned during my earliest child-rearing years was that too many choices can be a bad thing. I learned not to show my kids the clothes closet and say, "What do you want to wear?" The answer could take all day. I discovered picking two outfits out and giving my son especially a choice of one or the other worked best. He didn't have to agonize over his decision. Too much freedom makes toddlers insecure. They need limits.

So do we all sometimes. That's why when I made the decision to have the house painted I said to my painter [K's husband, btw] Don't give me too many choices for paint colors. I don't want to go crazy pouring over 4000 pages of paint swatches trying to find the precise shade. He laughed and he agreed and he brought me a selection of about 20 colors - which was tough enough to work with, but I managed.

As a group, DH and the kids and I reached a consensus rather quickly and decided on the following:


Hillside Green for the main color



And Georgian Brick for the doors.

Not too hard a decision. It's nice to have something in life be relatively easy - made so by the lack of choice rather than the abundance of it.

Seems odd when you think about it, but I think it was definitely the right choice for me.

You know you're in trouble when...

someone quotes Spock's dying words to you.

I was on the floor laughing last night over Big Bang Theory. When Sheldon balks at joining the team for the Physics Bowl, Leonard pulls out the big guns and gives him..."The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few..."

How many times have I heard that one? When you're a Trek geek, it's practically mandatory to hear that addage. Too funny.

DH gets a kick out of Sheldon's Green Lantern shirt too.

I'm not much for repeats these days, but here's a show I have to see more than once. In fact I watched in twice last night, along with How I Met Your Mother which also rocked, for all you Robin Sparkles fans.

All this comedy took the sting out of the Rejection I received from Harlequin for my submission to Nocturne Bites. Sigh. Hey, at least I have a completed story to sub elsewhere. Back to the drawing board.

I tawt I taw a...Romulan?? LOL.

Lazy Daze

It's not often these days that I read a book that makes me want to put my own writing aside [and housework and editing and everything else] just to finish it, so today is red letter day.

I just spent the last hour finishing The Beach Club, by Elin Hilderbrand. I read until my eyes got blurry and I couldn't quite make out the numbers on the clock telling me it was well past time to order the pizza for dinner.

Good thing I wasn't planning on cooking tonight, because I had to finish this book.

So what made this story of the guests and staff at en exclusive Nantucket resort so interesting? No one saved the world. There were no sizzling sex scenes, no spaceships or sexy vampires. This one came from outside the box of books I usually pick from. I got drawn in because the characters are compelling. To borrow the cliche, they lead lives of quiet desperation [usually a big turn off for me] but they just wouldn't let me put the book down. Like with the works of Nora Roberts, I was pulled into their world and I didn't want to leave until they were finished telling me their tale.

Nice work. I'm off to search for other books by this author. Anyone who can get me to set aside my own work in favor of hers deserves some more of my time.

Rather than relax

when I'm done with a story, I paint. This was yesterday's project. I really should be painting the bedroom or the bathroom or something, but at least with this, I don't have to do the ceiling.

A Fish Called Wanda

It's ironic I suppose, that my last surviving goldfish, Wanda, passed away today just as I completed my merman story.

I guess she wanted to hold on to the end, but she's been in a bad way since her companion, Cosmo, died a few months ago.

I cleaned out her tank this morning and she seemed fine, but by lunchtime, she was swimming upside down and shortly thereafter stopped swimming all together.

Poor Wanda. She was a good fish. I think maybe the stress of living with a curious cat got to be too much for her.

With my rough draft done, I'm now planning to take another few days off to catch up on other projects before diving [pun intended] into work on another paranormal full length novel.

Vegetable of the day

Broccoflower.

I bought some of this yesterday and because I'm easily amused, I found it to be fascinating to look at. It tastes more like cauliflower than broccoli, and in fact I think it is just a species of cauliflower rather than some weird chimera. It sports natural fractals, which is really cool.

It would make a nice, alien side dish.

I've obviously been away from writing too long when vegetables get me thinking about stories.

Time to get back to work.

Authors behaving badly...again [SIGH]

I find it sad that I've come across so much material for my periodic 'How to Ruin your Writing Career in Ten Days [or less]' posts.

I've already talked about the young author who lifted whole passages from someone else's book and garnered herself a hefty advance for a book that's now been recalled by the publisher. I've mentioned the author who slammed not only the work but the morality of erotic romance writers everywhere, and the well-known author accused of plagiarizing from a journalist.

The next schoolyard scandal is about a writer not only taking a reader to task for a less-than-perfect review, but apparently harrassing the reader and getting other authors or friends to do it as well.

Again, I won't name names because publicity is publicity and I don't want to be responsible for helping this author sell more books. All I'll say is: Bad Form.

We all get less than stellar reviews from time to time. I've read a few reviews of my own work that left me cold and a bit annoyed and wondering what book the reviewer actually read, and I've read some reviews of my work that have made me dance around the house feeling like a million bucks.

Getting bad reviews, or sometimes worse, lackluster reviews, is part and parcel of being a writer. Just like getting rejections, you have to learn to suck it up and move on. Not everyone is going to love your book. Some people will plunk down their hard earned money and discover you named a character after their ex-boyfriend which irritates the crap out of them and so they hate your book. You may have written a scene or used a phrase that grates on their nerves, challenges their sensiblities or creeps them out. You may not have ended the book the way they imagined you should have. So rather than chaining you to a bed and breaking your foot, they write a bad review.

If given the choice of a broken foot a bad review, I'll take the review, thanks.

Here's a few things to remember:

Sometimes bad reviews sell books too.

A bad review is only one person's opinion.

You don't have to justify yourself or your book to a reviewer.

Arguing with someone about their OPINION will not change said OPINION 99.9% of the time.

When in doubt, take the high road.

Swallowing the frustration you feel when someone trashes your work, or even just seems not to have enjoyed your work, isn't easy. There's a satisfaction to be had in telling someone off, we all know that. But do yourself a favor and suck it up. You'll be happier in the long run and so will your many readers.

The year in review

Originally I planned this post to be a long winded account of everything I've accomplished since turning 40 last year, but then my daughter made me this drawing, and decided that summed it up better than waxing rhapsodic about how many books I've had released [7] or how many pounds I've lost [15] or how many book signings I've had [1].

Hopefully the year ahead will be just as productive. 'Nuff said. Off now to the DMV to get my driver's license renewed.

Hmm...maybe I ought to blog?

I've been neglecting my blog badly. I took a few days "off" after finishing my edits to catch up on other things, and I've been enjoying not spending a lot of time at the computer.

This week I have to get my butt back in chair and get to work. Yesterday I signed the contract for Rogue Heart! The second [I don't really want to say sequel because it's not really about the same characters] to Rogue Theta.

Here's the blurb:

A Chi series enhanced human, Onika Ramos can seduce any man, but the fatal flaw in her biological programming is that she falls in love with her targets. When Zed Lantrell, the enigmatic scientist who created her, wants to see her, she chances a reunion, determined to convince him to change her biological programming and free her from her enslavement to chemical lust.

When she finds Zed has been brutally murdered, she feels relief and terror. No one can save her now, least of all Aidan Fynn, the attorney assigned by Central Command to represent her. Given into Fynn’s mercurial care, Onika faces the greatest challenge of her life to not fall hopelessly in love with the former soldier once he learns the only way to gain her trust is to take her to his bed.


I'm working on a third story set in the same universe - also not a proper sequel - but hopefully that one will find a place at EC soon as well!

The Character of Writers

This has been on my mind for a couple of days and I thought I'd pose the question and see what turns up.

Last week some time, I read a rather disturbing account of 'what's wrong with writers' written by of all people, a publisher, who shall remain nameless.

The consensus of this diatribe was that writers are flighty, high strung creative types who are difficult to deal with even under the best of circumstances. That's not a verbatim account, mind you, just my impression of the long-winded complaint that I read.

While I'll happily own the 'creative' part, and being creative isn't always a blessing, mind you. It can be rather frustrating a lot of the time, I have not now, nor have I ever been [at least as far as I know] flighty or high strung. [DH might argue the latter. He thinks I'm largely insane, reactionary and easily flung off the deep end, but he's wrong.]

Flighty to me says someone who can't be trusted, is constantly fluttering from one thing to another and never quite knows where they're going to land. I'm pretty stable as far as that goes. I'm dependable and fairly focused, except when it comes to housework in which case, yes, I probably could be described as mildly flightly. Like a bee.

High strung - nah. I really don't think of myself as high strung, and of the writers I know, I can't really name anyone whom I would classify as high strung. To me that says someone who is nervous, easily upset, given to ranting [I only rant about banks mind you] and hyper-sensitive. I probably used to be hyper-sensitive, but I'm over that now.

So what I'm getting at is, as a writer, are you flighty and high strung? I tend to think flighty, high strung people will have a hard time making it in this business. You really need to be rock solid and focused to get by in a world where success is measured in weeks and months of waiting time and rejections are badges of honor. Writing a novel is a long process that takes buckets of BIC [butt in chair] and grueling attention to detail. High strung people will fall to pieces over ignored submissions, year-long waits, rewrite and revision requests that don't amount to a sale, rejections, tedious edits, the minutiae [sp?] of going over galleys for typos and the endless drag of promotions and marketing strategies. The high strung, flighty types are going to fall out of the writer's rat race pretty early in the game and end up gibbering on the sidelines.

What do you think? Is being flighty and high strung all part and parcel of being a 'creative writer type'? Or is that just a symptom of those who ultimately won't be able to cut the mustard?

Revisions Done!

I completed my revisions on Uncross my Heart yesterday! Now back to waiting.

I've decided to take a couple of days off and just putter around the house before I jump back into working on my next EC novel.

*Note: My wonderful EC editor has accepted Rogue Heart - the second in the Rogue universe series after Rogue Theta! Just waiting for title approval. And I've signed a contract with Amber Quill for Wolfsbane 2: Leader of the Pack which will be part of an August Howling at the Moon Amber Pax.

Hard as is it, I think I can manage a day or two of serious house cleaning as my reward before I dive back into the deep end.

A bargain is a bargain after all

For some intents and purposes [though not all] DH is a bargain hunter. His favorite bargains are after-holiday candy sales and last night he found the Momma of all price-slashing.

I sent him out for orange juice and he came back from the store with seventy-five [yep, 75!] Cadbury Creme Eggs. They were on sale for $0.12 a piece.

What we're going to do with 75 Creme Eggs [besides eat them until we hate Creme Eggs] I don't know. Easter is over. We can't give them in baskets and we have no one who will believe the Easter Bunny came back a week later to drop off his leftovers at our house.

The bottom of the receipt from the store lists DH's savings - of which he's extremely proud. He saved $74.52! [Can you believe these little eggs cost over $1.00 a piece a week ago?]

It's good to know we have $74.52 in our pockets that would have gone to Creme Eggs [sasrcasm mode here] Maybe we can use that money toward a gym membership.

Still cruising along...

It's been a week from heck. [I can't say Hell, because I know people who have had it much worse than I have.] My week has been annoying but not tragic.

Good news: I finished round one of my rewrites.
Bad news: Now the ms needs round two.

Good news: I have everything ready for the Winterguard Host Show.
Bad news: It's today.
Good news: This time tomorrow it will be over.

Good news: The fridge technician came back yesterday to work on my fridge.
Bad news: He still can't find the right replacement parts.
Bad news: He says the repair shouldn't have been covered under warranty.
Good news: They have to do the repairs for free anyway.

Good news: Took the kids to the dentist. They have no cavities.
Bad news: I don't think the dentist is in my insurance network anymore.

Bad news: My computer got a nasty virus.
Good news: DH fixed it.

Good news: Next week, Spring vacation is over.
Bad news: I have to work my butt off next week to catch up.

Learn from an editor

There's a wonderful post by editor Leslie Hodges of Wings ePress over at Star-Crossed Romance today. Check it out for some great advice for writers.

Happy Easter!

Way to procrastinate

Since I said I wouldn't be blogging much, I not only had to blog, I had to take a picture to add to my blog.

Topper spent an hour trying to 'dig' me out of bed today. Now he's sitting on my printer. How am I supposed to get anything done?

Deep in Edits

I may be scarce in cyber space over the next few weeks. I'm working on serious revisions for a NY editor and trying to write with my fingers, toes, eyes and ears crossed that I might be 'this close' to mass market paper back land.

Wish me luck, folks. I'll drop in with updates when I can.

You don't know what you got til it's gone...

as the song goes.

Today, since it's been my week for ranting, I've decided to complain about my refridgerator. I had it serviced last week because there was a crack in the shelving on the inside of the door and since we've been paying for a warranty on it for years, DH decided it might be nice if we got some use out of the contract.

The technician came on Saturday, after the replacement parts had been delivered by UPS, and replaced the shelving, which now looks lovely. But he couldn't put the rails back across the shelves because the brackets that had been ordered were the wrong size. He ordered new ones, told us we could easily install them ourselves and life would be good.

Tonight we got delivery of the wrong parts. We got new rails when we need new brackets. So all the stuff I used to keep on the door is now stuffed on the shelves. You don't realize how much stuff you keep on the fridge door until you can't keep anything there any more.

In the overall scheme of things, this is another one of those small problems, I know, but it just seems par for this week, after the bank debacle and all.

On a happier note though, for those of you who may not have noticed. I recieved this uplifting message in response to my last post:

You can rest assured The Big Bang Theory will be here for a long time. It has 8 new episodes to air this season, and it has already been renewed for a full season next season. It got really good ratings last night. It always gets good ratings. Over 9 million people watched. It will be here at least through next season.

I guess everything evens out in the long run.

PS: As you see, I was right. All the network executives apparently read my blog. :) I knew they did.

The Smooch of Death

I know. I know. With great power comes great responsibility and if I was responsible I'd keep my mouth shut whenever I like something, but I just gotta say...I love Big Bang Theory.



This show is hilarious - maybe because I live with a computer and sci-fi geek, and I am a sci-fi geek myself so I know all the superhero, Star Trek, and Battlestar Galactica references. I mean, it's so much funnier to watch people playing Klingon Boggle when you've actually known people who do play Klingon Boggle. And watching a bunch of guys dance around in joy when they use their computer to turn on the stereo really is hysterical when you're married to a guy who has neon lights on his CPU [his computer, people. Getcher minds outta the gutter.]
Last night's new episode was a treat, especially the scene where Penny is helping Leonard pick out an outfit for his conference. She pulls a 'classic' BSG uniform out of the closet and says, "Why didn't you wear this for Halloween?" and Leonard says: "Because it's not a costume. It's a flight suit."
What made that line even funnier, was DH sitting next to me saying, "Oh, wow, he's got a Flash costume in there too!"
And yes, DH knew it was the bubble city of whatever you have from Krypton even before Leonard explained it.
Yep. This stuff is definitely funnier when you live it. If any big wigs from CBS are reading this [and come on, fellas, I KNOW you do] keep Big Bang Theory on the air - it rocks.

In defiance of all logic...

CAUTION: Rant ahead with capital letters and much yelling

Man has long sought to defy gravity. Makeup companies entreat us to ‘defy’ our age. Our defiance of the inequities of life can define who we are – so I suppose it stands to reason that financial institutions would expect us to defy logic and go blindly along with their strange and unusual rules and regulations.

This weekend, I had one of those logic defying moments during what I hoped would be a rather routine attempt to make a deposit into my individual retirement account.

When my deposit was ‘denied’ by the bank my curiosity got the better of me and I called them to find out why they would not take my money. As it turns out, since the bank has recently changed ownership, they have a host of new rules, one of which is that a customer cannot add to their existing IRA account. They no longer accept those little monthly or quarterly deposits that add up over the year to your federally mandated deposit limit.

Now, each time a customer makes a deposit to their IRA, A NEW ACCOUNT IS FORMED.

Got that? Each deposit, no matter the amount, FORMS A NEW ACCOUNT. So instead of having one nice fluffy pot of money into which you squirrel away little nuggets of gold over the course of your life so that when you retire and Social Security goes bust, you will still have money to eat, you must now have 30 or 40 INDIVIDUAL SMALL ACCOUNTS which the bank will ‘add up for you and tell you how much money you have to withdraw upon your retirement.’

Am I the only one who finds this concept mind-boggling? I had a long, drawn out conversation with a flummoxed bank representative who seemed confused by my confusion. I kept saying, “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of. You mean I cannot deposit any more money into my existing IRA account? I have to open a new account now and next week, next month, etc, when I have more money I’d like to put away for my retirement, I HAVE TO OPEN UP ANOTHER NEW ACCOUNT?”

Yes, she tells me. That’s how all banks do it.

YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Let’s just say a person begins their account at age 20 and doesn’t plan to retire until age 70. Then let’s say during those intervening 50 years that person chooses to make two deposits per year into their account. That means that in the 50th year, they will have ONE HUNDRED separate IRA accounts which the bank will then add up, and begin distributing money from one account at a time in order to pay that person back their retirement income?

AM I IN BIZZARO WORLD? Am I on Mars?? Can someone explain to me how it behooves the bank to manage 100 accounts for a single individual? What if that person chooses to make a deposit every month? That would amount to 600 SEPARATE ACCOUNTS over the course of 50 years.

IS THAT INSANE? Or is there something wrong with me? Please, I beg of you all, if it’s me, please tell me. Please explain what I’m failing to see here. Or could it simply be that the bank will ultimately have to pay less interest on 600 small accounts than it would on one big one?? Hmm...have I hit on something here?

Anyone, please?? Help me understand this nonsense because I’m a total loss.

A day in the life...

After reading this interesting post by Robin Hobb, I felt I should blog. LOL. She makes an interesting point about getting sucked into the Internet when we should be writing. And as I mentioned on Romance Divas, writers are somewhat duped into thinking that all the time they spend blogging, chatting, and posting to Yahoo groups is helping their careers by leaps and bounds, when the best thing we can do for ourselves is write, write, write.

That being said, who needs the Internet to suck time away from writing when everything does the same thing so well?

Here's my Friday:

6:30 AM Wake up DD for school, nap until 7:00
7:00 AM Get up, get breakfast, prep DD for school
8:00 AM shower, dress, make beds, do dishes
9:00 AM Start work at the 'day job', transcribe town meetings
1:00 PM Leave office, stop at bank
1:30 PM Arrive home, handle series of e-mails and phone calls re: Winterguard
competition scheduling snafu
2:30 PM make lunch, visit Romance Divas while I eat
3:00 PM Find creative ways to pay bills while emptying checking account of DH's
paycheck deposit
4:30 PM Order dinner [pizza], set table, feed pets
5:15 PM Dinner break, clean up dinner, empty dishwasher and refill
6:00 PM Check e-mail and make hairpiece for new Wintergaurd member
6:45 PM Work on WIP
9:00 PM Punch time card and curl up in front of the TV, too exhausted to care what I'm
watching

So, at least yesterday, the Internet vampire got very little of my life blood, yet still I ended up drained. Where does all the time go? RL, I suppose, is the real vampire.

Pink-Slipping a Character

So what do you do when you have to fire a character?

I don't mean getting rid of a character who's mean, unruly or just not what you want in the book. I can say, "Your FIRED!" just as easily as The Donald can. I'm talking about deleting a character who has done her job, been there as tireless supporting cast through countless edits and revisions already and who thought she had a future in the universe I created.

Now, due to budget cuts...well, actually due to the need to tighten a story, give rise to viable sequel and pick up the pacing of my novel, management is bandying about the idea of removing an entire secondary character.

I've already prepared the 'It's not you, it's me' speech, tried to temper it with, 'you've been a good character. There's really nothing wrong with your portrayal of one of the heroine's closest friends. It's just that there's really not room for you, so not only will your scenes end up on the cutting room floor, your dialogue may be rewritten and given to another character who will benefit greatly from your untimely demise.'

That's gotta be a harsh thing for a character to hear. And trust me, as an author, it's no picnic for me. It means serious rewriting to do, lots of work, and the ever-present concern that I'll have an unemployed character running through my head at odd moments asking if she's going to end up in another juicy role somewhere. Not only is this character losing her part, she's being escorted out of the 'green room' so to speak, where secondaries await their chance for the spotlight.

I feel bad for her. I'll do my best to find her another plot one of these days, but in all honesty, I think she really should look for another line of work, maybe commercials, or something in retail. It's a step down, I know, but we've all gotta do what we've gotta do.

Have you ever had to fire a character?

Blog Fog

Curses on Daylight Savings Time. My internal clock has no idea what time it is. I feel like I should still be sleeping.

Who's idea was this anyway?

According to this site Daylight Saving Time, it was all Benjamin Franklin's fault. That's what happens to your brain when you play outside in lightning storms apparently.

[And apparently there is no S at the end either. Sheesh.]

Hot and Bothered

I'm dishing about fantasies and a new blog called Hot and Bothered today. Drop by and tell me about your fantasies.

I'm doin' it again

Rooting for the underdog relationship. [What were you thinking??]



Last night was the long-anticipated [at least by me] premiere of the FOX show New Amsterdam starring Danish actor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as John Amsterdam, an immortal NY City detective.

I like the show. [Normally the kiss of death since the powers that be in TV Land never seem to see the world the way I do, and they're all evil anyway] but I hold out hope that it will last long enough to really hit its stride before FOX, in its infinite ignorance [hey, they cancelled Firefly earning them the coveted and indelible title of STOOPID] decides to replace it with yet another insipid reality show. [Bitter much? Sorry, what was I saying? Oh.]

I like this show.

But, as usual, being a romance author, I don't fall for the obvious romance - and when I say 'obvious' I can only hope FOX isn't dumb enough to make it as obvious as they seem to be making it. John Amsterdam was made immortal by a Native American Shaman and he will remain so until he finds his true love and their 'souls are wed.' Interesting concept, not necessarily a gift, to hear John tell it. He's lived a long, long time without true love and bears the scars of it [much deeper than the sexy sword and bullet wounds he sports on his rather attractive chest].

They've set John up to fall for - or think he's falling for - the doctor who pronounces him dead after a literally heart-wrenching pain fells him in the subway moments after she appears.

Yada yada. I didn't find that part quite as endearing as the relationship between John and his new partner Eva. She's a no-nonsense cop [again, kiss of death for a warm fuzzy romance] assigned to him when he has a rep for chasing partners away [or having them die on him]. She takes no prisoners and doesn't put up with his tepid attempts to piss her off by calling her Detective Whatever Your Name Is. By the end of the show they're sharing a quiet moment in the bar and he's done her the favor of helping her complete her transfer out of his department. [Something I have a feeling won't stick.]

Here's the relationship I'm interested in. I don't care already if John ever meets his heart-stopping lady doc. She seemed generic in the few miniutes of screen time she was given in the pilot episode. Eva has a bit of substance - not quite enough yet to make her the perfect romance heroine, but she has potential. Of course, FOX won't do this. She'll be the long-suffering best friend who ends up loving him like a brother and they'll say - well, they're partners, they can't get together. To which I reply, Why the hell not? I'm a romance novelist, for heaven's sake. We do that kind of thing all the time and we do it well.

Sigh. I guess I'll just have to keep watching and waving my banner for yet another doomed relationship.

I can't shake the worm

Maybe that didn’t come out the way I meant it...what I meant to say is, I’m addicted to Bookworm.



I’ve been playing it all weekend on the computer and I cannot stop. Just one more level, just one more five-letter word, I promise! Sunday, we didn’t eat dinner until 7:00 pm because I had made it all the way to level 15 and I had to keep going.

Help!

I don’t play a lot of games anymore, because I just don’t have time and because this is what happens to me. I can’t stop.

The up side is, when the kids catch me playing, they help me, so I get them sucked in too. Anything that will encourage DS to spell. The downside is, DH also hovers over my shoulder while I’m playing and he coaches – until I want to kill him.

“No no NO! Not that one – look – there’s B E A M – that’s four letters, take that one.”
“You gotta watch those three letters words, you know.”
“No, not that – use the Q! Use the Q!”

He makes me want to run over his toes with my desk chair.

I need an intervention. I should have been writing Sunday afternoon. Instead I sat around listening to a little green worm tell me ‘Good job!” every time I used the Q. I guess maybe I just needed some positive reinforcement, even if it comes from a worm. ;)

A Rant on Disdain

A few days ago my fellow Romance Diva Kristen Painter posted on her blog about things that tick her off.

I have no trouble thinking of things that tick me off, for instance: rude people, religious intolerance, plagiarism...I have a new one to add to my list now.

I'm not sure what to call it - maybe disdain isnt' the right word. High-handedness perhaps? Smugness? Maybe you can tell me what word fits best.

Here's the scenario. I've been putting some time in working with DD's winterguard team. I'm the treasurer because someone had to take over from the old treasurer whose daughter graduated last year. I run the monthly bake sales, I'm helping out with some tweaking to the show costumes, and when the guard needs something and DD calls me from practice with a request, I go and see if I can help.

I'm not sure why this makes me a fool, but I'm tired of people acting like I'm some sort of idiot for giving of my time. I was telling someone yesterday about my quest to find bright colored silk flowers to make hair combs for the girls. The guard coach wanted there to be a little more color and I suggested a bright yellow flower for their hair. Since most of the girls have dark hair and the costume is in muted autumn colors, a brilliant flower would make a nice contrast. Yesterday I was going out looking for supplies. When I told someone this, the response was, "Well, you got suckered into that, didn't you?"

Excuse me?

Helping my daughter in her chosen extracurricular activity is 'suckered in?' I'm sorry, did I miss something? This from a person who organized the entire fund raiser for Project Graduation the year her child graduated high shcool, and he didn't even attend the event! She worked like a dog to raise money so the class could spend an evening dancing and eating and not driving around drunk as teeangers will do, and that was 'something she had to do.' But I'm a 'sucker' because I'm out at the craft store picking up some silk flowers? Or because I was asked to hem one of the costumes and I did it, or because the girls needed ice packs and I went out and got them, or because I actually show up at the bake sales with bakes goods and sell them?

Please, really, what did I miss? Has it become passe and uncool to put time in for your kids now? I realize a lot of parents can't participate. They work long hours, have several children, not a lot of money and are sometimes just too damn exhausted to help out. I know the feeling and I don't begrudge them. I was never a class mother, I've respectfully and permanently retired from participating in general school fundraisers because they annoy the crap out of me, but when my kids WANT to be involved in something that requires some parental input, I will do it. Not because I love it, and I thought, not because I'm some kind of fool who should be home on the couch watching television and using an extracurricular activity like free baby sitting, but because I thought it was part of my job as a parent.

So why the disdain? Or whatever it is?

Unprecedented Decadence

I went to Bennigan's the other day for lunch with my mother and my aunt, and though I'm still on my diet [60 days and counting - 13 pounds lost!] I did peruse the dessert menu because, well, I can't help it.


I was both pleased and disappointed to see my favorite dessert back on the menu. Banana Xango is basically a deep fried banana cheesecake that is To. Die. For. But, alas, I'm not ordering it any more. I'm trying so hard to be good.


In addition to BX, Bennigan's is now offering a new dessert called the Triple Dare. They should probably call it Triple Digit Cholesterol instead. That's a picture of it above and here's the description from the menu:


We have taken three of your favorites to the next level. A chewy fudge brownie, a Hostess Twinkie® and a Zinger® are each wrapped in a crispy shell and fried until golden. Served with vanilla ice cream and drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauces.


Are they kidding with this? I mean, yeah, it looks like heaven. Any time you deep fry something chocolate, you're passing into the realm of the angels as far as I'm concerned. It's like nirvana. But really...give people a break.


I'm not one of those activists that's going to go around trying to sue restuarants for making people fat, or bullying everyone into dieting [guess what, that doesn't work.] But I do have a small complaint about this stuff. As good as it looks and as tempting as it is, why can't they offer a healthier dessert choice as well? It wouldn't even have to be that much cheaper - I mean, at IHOP they serve a bowl of fresh fruit for $5.99 which is about the same price as these artery cloggers at Bennigan's. Sure $5.99 is a lot for fruit, but if you're out eating at a restaurant and everyone else is having fried cake, you'd be more likely to drop the six bucks and get yourself some expensive fresh fruit. When there are no healthy alternatives a lot of people will just skip dessert and if you're out to get their money, why not give them something they WANT to buy?


Some places are offering smaller desserts now, which is nice. I have no problem with cake, or ice cream. Hey, you have to live, you know? Food is one of life's great pleasures and I do believe we should enjoy it, but how about if restuarants helped out the populace and all offered lighter alternatives for desserts, like HALF a piece of cake - a SINGLE dare rather than a triple, or a dollop of sorbet and some fresh berries? Most places don't.


So therein lies my rant for today. Is it any wonder obesity effects more than 60% of the US population?

Writing 101 - Tip Sheets

Today I'm over at StarCrossed Romance talking about character creation. Come check it out.

BDSM anyone?

I don't usually blog about books I haven't read yet, but this one by fellow Diva Jennifer Leeland intrigues me so much, I thought I'd mention it.



In the BDSM lifestyle, Catherine Lanyard is an extreme submissive with serious baggage. For years, she’s avoided her pain and hidden dark secrets. Now, an experienced Dom has broken through her barriers and forced her to face her fear. Sex was always a give and take for Justin Travers. He’d always kept his “lifestyle” practices separate from real life. But when Catherine blurs that boundary, he must decide what he really wants.

BUY IT HERE

It's on my TBB list, now just gotta find that credit card...

Can you see...

...the cat in this picture?? I opened the cabinet under my desk [it's actually a printer stand on wheels] and Topper jumped into the opening behind it. I snapped this picture, then I had to chase him out of there so I could close the cabinet.

Back to the real world

Winter vacation is over!!

Yay.

Everybody went back to school/work etc. today and I had some peace and quiet. It was nice.

I know I complain a lot about school vacations, but I have to say the week wasn't a total loss as far as getting my work done. I cleared out all my editing projects last week and I realized that even though I may complain a lot about my work load when I've got editing to do, as soon as I don't have any, I miss it.

Yeah, I need to take a pill for that.

I also completed Wolfsbane 2: Leader of the Pack and sent it off to Amber Quill. [Look for the Howling at the Moon...Again Amber Pax in August 2008] AND I finished my submission to Nocturne Bites. This story was originally written in part as a Pax submission, but I never finished it. Molten Man got that Pax slot and this story got put in a drawer. I'm thrilled to have finally finished it, even though it's short, because the beginning was so good. The characters deserved an ending.

Today in addition to reveling in having the house to myself, I picked up my paycheck from the town [they got my hours wrong :( ] I ran to DS's eye doc to get a new Rx for his glasses, since the one the doc wrote last week left the people at LensCrafters too baffled to do more than inspect their belly button lint. [Don't get me started!] The doctor was delayed in surgery [have you ever known surgery to NOT include a delay of some kind?] So my ride over there was for nothing. They have to mail me the correct Rx.

By the time I finished lunch, I realized I had 3 minutes to get over to the school for the Winterguard Bake Sale. I couldn't find a parking space, I forgot to bring napkins [Silly me, kids don't care about napkins when they're ripping cupcakes out of plastic trays and shoving brownies into their mouths.] We sold out in 7 minutes [A record - usually it's much less time] And I was on my way home again.

Now I've got to dig back into one of my NY submissions and prepare for some rewrites.

Overall I can't complain that I didn't have a productive week. Now I have to think of something else to complain about.

Snow day

Why bother having a major snow storm on a day when the kids are already off from school?

We're having a serious accumulation of the white stuff today, which puts a damper on a couple of my plans to actually go out. Heck, it can all wait. DH is working from home, so he's rather jaunty this morning.

The upside, I normally go to the office on Fridays, but I went on Tuesday and due to those pesky budget cuts, I have to limit my hours so I'm off today. Down side, I can't pop in and pick up my paycheck.

The Virtue of Patience

Today I'm over at Star-Crossed Romance talking about something I have little of: Patience. Dorp by and give me a shout out!

Vacation or Hiatus?

Today is the second week day of Winter Recess, which means the kids are home all day, every day for the whole week.

Usually I get very little done during these 'vacations' - for me they're more like interruptions of life as I know it.

I'm plugging away slowly at everything, but it ain't easy. Yesterday I got a bit of editing done AND I finished the draft of the short story I'm planning to submit to Nocturne Bites. Now it has to cool for a day or two, but I want to get it out ASAP. Since the line is new, I want to get something submitted fast before the editors get inundated with submissions, as I'm sure they will. With all the paranormal authors out there, it's only a matter of time before the in-box is flooded.

Today, I'm off to the office. Budget meetings are throwing my little neighboring township into a frenzy and I'm swamped - which for a change I don't mind. I like being busy at the office. Got to drag the kids out of bed and drop them off by my mother for the morning, then listen to people argue about whether or not to stop providing water and coffee for the office workers in order to save money. SIGH. When will they learn? Keeping morale up will help keep expenses down, people. Pay attention .

Chatting Today

As much as I don't want to move NCW from the top of my blog, I thought I'd better post, so I'm announcing my chat later today at Novelspotters.

I'll be on from 3:30 to 4:00 pm talking about my Amber Quill releases. I'll have some sneak peeks for Thieves in Paradise, coming in May and Wolfsbane II, scheduled for release this summer and I'll have a very easy contest if you're interested in winning a free dowload of one of my Amber Heat releases.

So drop by and say hello if you get the chance!

Have a Yummy Valentine's Day!

This is Nikolaj Coster-Waldau. He's the star of FOX's upcoming paranormal drama, New Amsterdam and I'm auditioning him for a role as the hero in one of my stories. Or maybe all of them.

Sizzle. Snap. Pop.

Hypocriticism

It bugs me sometimes when I feel like a hypocrit.

Had one of those moments this morning. I'm reading a best-selling book from a best-selling series by a best-selling author. Love the book, love the author, love the series - but it's FULL of passive verbs. Everything is was and were. Telling, telling, telling.

When I edit, I spend a lot of time on passive verbs. Okay, wait a minute - Ursula does. She tends to highlight the was/weres and was/ings in manuscripts and suggest authors get rid of as many as possible. She redlines passive usage with a vengeance.

And then she picks up a book that is lauded by critics and finds all the things she just spent two weeks trying to weed out of someone else's ms.

Should the authors be miffed about this?

Well, I couldn't blame them if they were. It's hard to deal with the - If she can do it, why can't I? syndrome. But we've all been told this time and time again.

Just because Nora Roberts head pops doesn't mean we can get away with it. Just because e. e. cummings didn't use capital letters blah blah blah.

Is it fair?

No. But it's the way it is. Ursula feels bad about it, but she's going to continue highlighting those passive verbs and changing 'he was watching' to 'he watched' wherever she finds it. She's going to continue her battle against ever-shifting POV, telling vs. showing and when someday an author she'd edited gets to the NY Times Bestseller List and looks back and says, 'Damn that Ursula, she wouldn't let me do all the things I wanted to do!' She will sit back and sigh, 'My work here is done.'

There

I finished Wolfsbane 2 today!!!

Of course first I had to throw out all the stuff I wrote yesterday, which replaced the stuff I had thrown out the day before, which replaced the stuff I had thrown out the day before.

Writing is rewriting, as they say.

Ahhhhhhhhh, the thrill of victory.

All...Most...There

I'm closing in on the end of Wolfsbane 2: Leader of the Pack. I seem to be caught in the never-ending ending though...

I could wrap everything up quickly and relatively cleanly, but leave myself with the feeling that I've 'wrapped it up' or I could draw it out a bit and hopefully give a little more closure and some more satisfaction to the ending without making it seem like I'm dragging it out.

I'm not trying to fill up word count, my characters just don't seem to want to leave the stage yet.

Do you ever want to say to your characters, "Enough already, you're done." Or do you feel that everything should play out as long as it takes to play out? Have you ever read a book and felt like the scenes had been artificially stretched to make them fit between the front and back covers which had to be a certain width apart? I have...and I don't want to do that with this story.

How do you know when enough is enough? If you had to choose, would you prefer a story that ended somewhat abruptly, but with all the ends tied up, or one that went on to give you just a little bit more than you really needed to feel fulfilled?

I know the best answer is neither, but if you had to choose? I guess I'd go for the little bit extra.

Opinions on S.E.X

Fellow author Lauren Dane has a wonderful post up on her blog about S.E.X. She brings up some fabulous points about the heights [and often depths] authors will go to in order to write “hot.”

I agree with Lauren 100% that what’s ‘erotic’ doesn’t necessarily lie in how many sex scenes you can cram into your story, or how many pages each one takes up. And this post at Star-Crossed Romance by Lynda K. Scott sums up my feelings on ‘erotic’ language.

It’s not what words you use, or how many pages you fill up with sex, or how many positions you can invent that makes a story erotic or sexy, or even good. It’s how you can make your readers feel about your characters and what they’re doing that’s important.

Like Lauren, I’ve read books with relatively few sex scenes that I thought were incredibly sexy. A smoldering look can be sexier than a chapter-long, ten-position roll in the sheets if it’s used properly. For me, to be perfectly honest, it’s the buildup that’s far sexier than anything else.

One of the reasons I’m a huge fan of Karen Marie Moning is because her stories, IMHO, build the reader up to the breaking point. By the time her characters actually have sex, I’m dying for it to happen. The actual scene may only be a page or so long, but it’s a mental release for me, as it’s a physical and emotional release for the characters. I’m a firm believer that one of the best parts of sex is the anticipation. The excitement should begin to build long before the characters hit the bedroom [or the floor or the wall or the backseat, it doesn’t matter where] and have the reader literally aching for the moment when they finally get it together. That’s sexy.

My goal has always been to write stories that make readers desperate to turn the pages before and after the sex scenes [or love scenes] since not everything I write is erotic romance. I want readers to find as much satisfaction in a story where the hero and heroine don’t make love until the final chapter, as they do in my erotic romances where sex is an integral part of the plot.

Epiphanies and phantom titles

Fellow writer Cora Zane was talking about epiphanies on her blog. A timely post, since I just had an epiphany the other day with regards to my WIP - Wolfsbane 2.

I'd been laboring along, working with a page from my calendar so I could keep all the important days of the week straight and follow the full moon in a reasonably accurate fashion. [Full moons being important to werewolves and all] and the other day it occurred to me in one of those DUH moments that the 'climax' to to speak of the story needs to be on the night OF THE FULL MOON. Not, as I had previously plotted, a week BEFORE the full moon.

What was I thinking?

I have no idea why on earth I would plot a werewolf story to take place entirely before the full moon. I didn't realize my massive error until I got ready to begin the final chapters, the big payoff, the final battle and thought to myself...gee, this would be so much cooler if the villain could transform into his wolf self right about...hey...wait a minute.

Why can't he?

Somebody tell the author to make the villain able to transform into his wolf self now, please.

A small voice came back to me and said, "The writer is on strike."

I said, "No, she's not. She's just having lunch. Get her back in here and tell her to change all this so that the full moon rises right about the time the villain is ready to put his dastardly deeds in motion."

"She won't like being disturbed," the voice said.

"I don't care," I said. "This is important. It will make the whole story so much better."

"Okay," said the voice. "But she gets cranky when she has to make revisions."

"Too bad," I said.

So I made the author change the whole ms and even print out a new calendar page for a different month so the full moon would fall exactly on the date that the villain does his stuff. Of course that took up a whole day - the rewriting and fixing, but now I'm ready to write the ending, and hopefully it will all make sense now and readers will go, Wow - how cool that all this just ends up happening on the night of the full moon and everything.

THEN, I had another one of those AHA moments. Totally unrelated to my WIP, I came up with another kick arse title for a book. Yes, this title rocks! I have no plot to go with it, no blurb, no nuthin' - but damn it's a faboo title. I must use it.

I have no idea how. SIGH.

Off to wait for another epiphany.

What they're saying...

about Skin!

I've never gotten reviews this fast before. Here's a sample of what they're saying about SKIN!

Five Cherries! [Skin is] ... fascinating and downright erotic. This intensely sensual and erotic story was so mesmerizing ... Needless to say, I commend the author on a job well done. – Viscaria, Whipped Cream

***
84! [Skin is] a sexy story that makes an erotic fetish out of body art...this book works because damn it’s hot – Mrs. Giggles

***
Grade A! Man, oh Man! Have you ever read a book that has you smiling like the Cheshire Cat? ...This book is a scorcher! – Shira, Simply Romance Reviews

I'm always amazed when I manage to impress Mrs. Giggles. LOL.

Subconscious musings

Occasionally I have really cool dreams - like Thumbworld for instance and the time I was in the middle of a Stargate SG-1 episode, but most of the time my dreams are just random weirdness.

Like the other night, I dreamed about brownies. [Okay, this makes sense since I'm on a diet]. Someone had made a plate of deep, dark chocolate fudge brownies and left them on the table. I wanted to have one - and everyone around kept reminding me I was on a diet and I shouldn't have one. I was yelling at everyone, 'I just want one! Just ONE!'

And they wouldn't let me have one.

The dream world can be a cruel place.

Crueler still, last night I dreamed about Amy Winehouse.

I have no idea why. I don't listen to her music. Her faux bee hive and kohl-rimmed eyes turn me way off and I have a rule about avoiding trainwreck celebrities [Sorry, Britney - not that I ever was a fan].

Ms. Winehouse was in a police car. [Not a stretch from what I hear about her]. But oddly, in my dream, she was driving it.

I do think it's time for some mind-altering medication.

He said, she said

There’s an excellent post up at Redlines and Deadlines about exactly the topic I wanted to talk about today.

Not that I want to turn my blog into a daily writing exercise, but on this timely topic, Dialogue Tags, I have another small rant.

No, it’s not about the authors I edit. It’s about an assignment my daughter was given in English class. Her teacher asked the class to come with as many synonyms for ‘said’ as they could.

While this might be a nice exercise in learning how to use a Thesaurus, as a writer and editor I had to object. She’s teaching them to do something that, as a writer, I’ve had to train myself NOT to do. Once again I say, it’s a wonder anyone learns to write at all when the skills you’re taught in school are sometimes exactly what you have to unlearn in order to become fiction author.

I cringed when my daughter explained her assignment and I told her, while it’s great to know synonyms for any word, SAID should not be considered a boring, mundane or useless word. I told her, when used properly, SAID is invisible. It fades into the background where it belongs and lets your dialogue show unencumbered.

You don’t need to say: “I’m not lying!” she insisted.

Or worse, “I’m telling the truth!” she proclaimed vehemently.

“I can’t stand all this arguing,” he whined.

“Neither can I,” she retorted.

SAID works, it fits and it’s fewer letters to type. Use it! But not after every single piece of dialogue. Then it gets repetitive, and repeats are another thing Ursula has a fit over, but that’s another topic.

Anyway, as the discussion continued, we went through a list of synonyms for SAID, and I opined petulantly on the merits of words like ‘hissed’ or ‘spat’ or ‘whispered.’ Occasional use is fine, but don’t make a habit of having your characters do anything with dialogue other than say it. It sparked a big debate with my husband whether or not you can ‘laugh’ dialogue. I say no, you really shouldn’t, and he said yes.

Finally, my daughter asked, “Can you quack dialogue?”

I said no, unless you’re a duck. And DH came up with what I believe is the perfect use of ‘quacked’ as a tag.

“AFFFFLAAAACK!” he quacked.

Can’t argue with that.