I'm a Pessimistic Realist, What Are You?

A little over a week ago, I was blog hopping as was my habit while I drank my coffee before I settled down to write, and stopped off at Magical Musings. My GIAM buddy, Edie, a member of that particular glog, and had written the topic of the day, Staying Positive. It was a good article with many writers contributing to their experiences.

I, of course, felt the need to comment.

I had always been a glass half-empty type of person, UNTIL I started querying, entering contests, and submitting, then I turned into a total Pollyanna, glass half-full person, trying to look at the bright side all the freakin’ time! It probably has to do with everyone cheering you on with a trite, “an R is one step toward publication”, or “your writing is awesome–one day it’ll happen” (uh, this is from someone who has NEVER read my writing). This only made me feel worse for not succeeding in the publication biz.

Fast Forward eight years: I’m now a pessimistic old fart. I EXPECT the rejections, relish them actually. Why? Because I don’t fall into the vortex of depression when I DO get one. And the perk? I get a really good high when I get a request.

For me, this is a win-win. And when I do get the rejections, well, I already have another plan of attack ready to go.

Edie's response was the one I hoped to get:

Margaret, you had me laughing again. I love your writing, and some day an agent, editors and a whole lot of readers will be loving it, too.

Well, my Pollyanna comment really struck a nerve with one of the commenters. She was proud to be an optimistic-no-matter-what Pollyanna.

. . . I read the name Pollyanna in the above comments, and yep that’s the side of the playing field I’m on. I’d rather go through life experiencing the positive, than a gazillionaire with a bad attitude and drenched in negativity. Now, that would be depressing!

I had to laugh. She didn't know me, my weirdly dry sense of humor, or how MANY times I've faced rejection. So I searched my archives:
Book 1, The Aegis--6 queries--6 rejections
Book 2, The Dragon Warrior--13 queries--13 rejections
Book 3, Twist of Fate (was Beyond the Past)--93 queries/partials/etc--93 rejections
Book 4, The Leprechaun Connection--stopped recording--5 queries--5 rejections, but I would hazard a guess that it was around the 90 mark.
Book 5, Scent of Evil, novella--1 query--1 rejection (novellas don't really sell well unless you are known or write erotica, and this wasn't sensual) I decided this would work better as a full length novel--unfinished as novel.
Picture books (9)--didn't keep track, but I think I sent out 10 queries on one of them--10 rejections
Book 6, To Gnome Me is To Love Me (was MISSING: One Garden Gnome)--110 queries--75 rejections--35 no response means no. I think that I've had my fair share of rejections. I've had the Pollyanna attitude for ALL of them except for the last fifteen rejections on Gnome, AND I was down for DAYS with every rejections EXCEPT for the last fifteen. As a writer I retain my sanity when I expect the rejections, AND have a Plan B ready to go.

An because I'm such a bonehead, I responded:

I don’t think I have a bad attitude about anything, but I am realistic. I know this is a tough business to break into. Percentage-wise, I know the rejections will outnumber the requests–and trust me, I have received over 70 rejections on my last novel, and this was novel #5. And I know that this business is terribly subjective. Just because someone likes your work, it doesn’t mean she can sell it or place it in the publisher’s line.

Shoot, I totally switched genre gears last year and started from scratch as I tried to figure out what it takes to get published in this new genre. I didn’t have any writing buddies in this new field, and though supportive, many of my romance writing buddies don’t read or understand MG.

It’s all part of the business. I wouldn’t be trying if I didn’t have a positive attitude, but I’ve had to learn to adjust my thinking to work for me and my mental state.

In other words, I’m POSITIVE that I will get a rejection.

Getting my hopes up when I see the agent email or the agent letter in my mailbox won't change their response. I had to change my reaction to it, otherwise I would drive myself crazy.

So my pessimistic realistic approach works for me. And if you are always on the optimistic side, well the, good for you. So whatever you have to do to retain your sanity. My answer was to revert to my tried and true pessimism

Hi, my name is Margaret and I'm a Pessimistic Realist. What are you?

Write on!

Are You Happy?

My sister sent me a silly widget thingy the other day. Well, it brought a smile to my lips especially when my hubster started singing it while making pancakes on Saturday morning. But then hubster asked if my sis was happy. I had to respond that I didn't know. He wondered if I ever asked her, and of course, I said no. It's not in our genes to pry.

He said I should.

This is a tough call for me. My family is pretty private. Shoot, I was elevenish before we started hugging each other and that was because my SIL-to-be was from a hugging family. We weren't. We were the large family of stoic Germans led by my matriarchal mother--who still rules the roost at 88 years old. We are NOT a sharing family. We don't do feelings and emotions, which explains my inability to write emotional scenes since I avoid them at all costs!

My sis lives about 950 miles away and, though three years apart in age, we are miles apart in personality, philosophy, and life. I don't think I would ever ask her that question--I'm not close enough emotionally.

But it started me wondering. Was I happy? And I'm not simply talking in the monetary category, but overall. I have to admit that I've been blessed in my life. I worked hard to earn money before I was legal to work. I saved for college and graduated with a BS in Medical Technology, debt-free. I worked for 23 years in a career that I loved. I owned three horses, rode, trained and showed all of them. I learned to live alone. And living alone doesn't mean I was lonely--I wasn't. I was content and happy with where I was in my life. This was a lesson my Aunt Mary taught me.

You can only be happy if you are happy within yourself.

And then I met my future hubster at Oktoberfest. From across the crowded tent he saw me standing next to a girl he worked with (she's my SIL now--married to his bro). Poor guy was so toasted he thought I was tall until he got close enough to see that I was standing on a picnic table. Yes, he's 6'3" to my 5'1". :-) But we will be having our 18th wedding anniversary this June.
We traveled. Bought a house. Traveled some more to Europe. And finally had a kiddo. Quit my job and started writing. Out of everything I've experienced in my life, writing has been the most difficult journey as I climbed up the steep hill of learning the art of storytelling. I'm happy creating and writing, but the business can deflate you quicker than stomping on a balloon, and busting it with a ka-pop! I started to wonder if I was Manic-Depressive. Yeah, yeah, that not the 'politically correct' term. Get over it. It's the term I learned in Phych 101 in college and it's the term I'll always remember.

But during all of this, I experienced various forms of happiness. And even if I never publish my stories--I'll still be happy--saddened that I can't spread that joy any further than this blog, but *shrugs* that's life. I'm doing everything in my power to spread my joy and happiness, but sometimes it's out of your hands.

Do your best, improve upon your best, push your best beyond your present boundaries. And then query the snot out of it. If you don't get any bites, then write the next book.

Lather, rinse, repeat. But remember, only you can make you happy.

Write on!

Visiting Another Blog

Hey, all!
Come by and visit me at Edited to Within an Inch of my Life.
For some bizarre reason, Heather asked to interview me--it's my very first one! So don't leave me all alone over there!

Write on!

Paying Your Dues

*You know what's really, really sad? I edited this post numerous times and I never caught this stupid typo--payed, should be paid. *sigh* I will fix them.
Paying Your Dues.

I always hated that phrase. I've heard it in all aspects of my life, work, play, work. It's trite, but it's the essence of truth that ticks me off.

Most humans don't appreciate things when they come easy or are given to them. How many kids do you know that are total spoiled brats? A lot. It's because Mom and/or Dad felt guilty and gave their kid whatever they wanted from the first tantrum until their adult tantrums. But those who had to work for their spending money, or their first bike, contact lenses, or High School class ring. Those of us who had to work for it had an appreciation that those who didn't work for it would never understand.

It's the same way with work. When I started working as a medical technologist at a large hospital, I was told that I would have to 'pay my dues' by working evenings or night shift. Hated evenings (3-11), LOVED nights (11-7), and I'm a gal who is in bed at 9 or 10 at night, but if I have a reason to stay awake, I can do it. Most recent example of this was skiing all day and then keeping hubster awake while we drove home from Colorado (12 -13 hour drive). I paid my dues at work, but I enjoyed working nights and learned a lot about my skills and abilities, plus there was the goofing-off aspect of nights. Heck, my boss slept on the job, so we could play, read, or whatever as long as the work got done as it came in. It did the work and we played. :-)

I thought moving to days would be like finding Shangri-la.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

I lost my pay differential. I lost my ability to goof-off. I lost my ability to make educated decisions. I learned what it was like to be micro-managed. I had to teach inept college kids--and this REALLY pushed my tolerance limit! The MT students wanted to be spoonfed EVERYTHING. One time, I had to explain how to start a machine to a student THREE TIMES in a five minute period. Yeah, push this button, type in this number (on the specimen label), and push START. Uh, I had to walk away from that one--I almost came to blows. Yes, I wanted to beat her head against the keyboard. Thus I decided that I HATE STUPID PEOPLE. Maybe I should qualify this. I HATE PEOPLE WHO LACK COMMON SENSE AND REASONING.

Did I gain anything? Probably, but I'll always have fond memories of working nights.

How did I pay my dues during play? Ask Jody how many times I hit the dirt riding my second horse Abe. She even featured me in a KJM Comic book--for frequent flyer miles. Yeah, I paid my dues. I got a ruptured disc thanks to Abe, but I really learned to ride anything he had to throw at me (a buck, a spin, a rear, a side-step, then the little bastard started mixing it up and combining his moves) I think I paid my dues.

And then there is my writing life. I have to say that I've paid my dues, and that learning curve was freaking steep! I've read numerous books on craft. I've gone to conferences. I've attended classes. I've written dreck. . . more dreck . . . hideous dreck. And then things got better. I learned to craft a tale. I learned to write dialogue. I learned how to write subtly, using the way a POV character views the world and others to show internal conflict and characterization. And the biggest thing that I've learned?

I've learned to handle rejection--lots and lots of rejection. I've been eviscerated by crit partners, contest judges, and even strangers when I posted something online. I've had good rejections, form rejections, and poorly xeroxed copies of rejections (Yes, they STILL do that!). I've learned that writers must gain a thick skin to survive in this biz, and if you don't learn it early on then you will have to deal with it when you publish and various anonymous posters proceed to slice and dice you and your novel.

Personally, I'm glad that I've paid my dues. It's made me stronger, tolerant and more sure of myself.

And if there's any good Karma vibes ready to head my way--I think I'm ready.

Write on!

Celebrate with Sarah!

Check it out!

Here's a totally cool opportunity!

http://sarahwithachance.blogspot.com/2010/04/something-fun-and-celebratory.html#comment-form

Breakthrough

I had been piddling around with this second book in a middle grade series for about six months now. I started it in August 2009 with a vague idea of what was going on. I wrote about ten thousand words, but puttered around and couldn't finish it.

In the interim, I wrote two serial blog stories to get into the protagonist's mindset. I thoroughly enjoyed writing them and I'm currently submitting them to various contests and magazines, but I didn't get the breakthrough that I wanted. I plowed my way through the story, until I reached page 70, roughly 22000-words, the halfway point. I didn't have enough story to finish. The story was going to be totally boring and not worth writing.

What was I going to do?

Well, I did a lot of thinking. AND I refered back to a logline I had to write for an online agent contest that I had entered.

When a water nymph ensnares a special needs child who can see the magical world, a half-elven tween, a faerie and the child’s mean sister must work together to save her.

Two things stood out. 1) it was a red herring, 2) I had to get my protagonist and her sworn enemy to work together.

The supposed villian wasn't the character in the logline. It was someone I had planted in the beginning of the story, but I had made the mistake of listening to a writing buddy (don't get me wrong, I LOVE MY WRITING BUDDY. She has great input and is a wonderful brainstormer, but she doesn't write fantasy, uh, in other words she doesn't live in la-la land like I do!), and dropped the premise. I could insert the premise without changing the first half of the story, but I needed to find a good reason for this character to commit this horrendous act.

--I called my brother. He's retired from the Corps of Engineers and I needed to know about dams and lakes. He gave me enough for my idea to make sense YAY! Breakthrough #1

The second problem was forcing my protag and her enemy together. How could I do that? The enemy's sister almost drowns and my protag happens to be at the right place to save her, BUT the family is at the hospital. How could I get these two together. Cue my Writing Buddy. She suggested that the moms played Bunco together. It didn't work for me, but it got me thinking--see, this is the beauty of good writing buddies. They jostle you enough to get your mind to working--my protag's mother moved them back to her home town after her father was killed in an accident. The mothers had been BFF's for thirty years, but the kids didn't know it. Who would you trust to watch your daughter if you have to stay at the hospital with another child? Your BFF, of course. Breakthrough #2!

I have a great backstory for my villian. I can throw my two humans together. It works! Oh, I'll need to do some major tweaking, but the bones are there. I wrote 3500 words on Thursday. On Friday, I managed to write 1000 words, but stumbled as we had to put our dog to sleep.

I just love it when everything falls together! And I expect to finish my MG novel next week.

Rest in Peace

Today, we put down our Old English Sheepdog. The cancer prevented her from eating and drinking. She was starving to death. Her passing was peaceful, though painful for all of us.

Rest in Peace, my furry friend.

Katie "Pooh Bear" Golla
April 1998-April 9, 2010

Katie's Prognosis--not good

UPDATE: Katie has gastric adenocarcinoma. It is invasive and fatal. We are lavishing her with TLC, while we make final arrangements. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers.
The Gollas


This picture was taken this winter. I don't remember if it was the 2009 Christmas Eve storm or the January 2010 one.
As I mentioned on Wednesday, my dog, Katie, has been starving herself. In fact since the end of January, she's lost 23 lbs. and now weighs 55 lbs and that's skinny by Sheepdog standards. I've tried EVERYTHING to get her to eat. Many times she'd eat it once, but that was it. I've been worried sick about her and other than shoving cheese-wrapped pills down her throat, she's eaten virtually nothing for weeks. And I feel like such a meanie!


Well, yesterday, she had an endoscopy performed. And that in itself was an emotional rollercoaster ride. I made the hubster and kiddo come with me when he doc told us his findings, because this is a family member and all of us should be aware of the diagnosis and prognosis.

--and it isn't good.

Katie has a tumor on and around the pylorus, the sphincter valve that is positioned between the stomach and the small intestine. The tumor wouldn't even let the endoscopy tube to pass through. The area around the tumor, which has bled numerous times in the past if the looks of it was accurate, is swollen, inflammed, and thickened. In other words, it can't perform its function. The doc took numerous biopsies and sent them off. The bad news is that the results won't be available for at least four days.

Bad news and more bad news: The doc seemed pretty confident that Katie would live long enough for us to get the diagnosis--I have my doubts. I know I sound clinical, but I'm crying as I'm writing this.
--If the tumor is fungal in origin, the doc feels we can treat her with fungal meds. BUT my question with this is, how much damage has already been done? Would this area return to normal functioning? I doubt it.
--Surgery is out of the question due to the location of the tumor. It would be major reconstruction as the small intestine was reattached to the stomach. Plus she's 12 years old, though energetic and alert, she's already lived well beyond the average for an OES (Old English Sheepdog)
--If it's cancer. Well, there is no treatment.

The only real option is to keep her quality of life as high as possible.
-She's taking meds to soothe her stomach and decrease the nausea.
-Try to get her to eat ANYTHING.
-Love on her as much as possible.
-Put her to sleep when it becomes apparent that she's just existing because we can't make the hard decisions.

Peace and Love.

Moonrat milestone--half million hits

Yes, I'm linking this post on my blog because I want to be in on the drawing! A 20 page crit by an editor is nothing to miss!
Check moon rattie out!

Sick Doggie

Sorry, I've been really scattered this week. Lots of personal stuff going on--not me, but the family (my mom, MIL and FIL).

And tomorrow, my OES (Old English Sheepdog) is going in for an endoscopy. She's almost twelve and we've been fighting her constant vomiting. Well, we found the wonder drug, Cerenia, but then over the last two weeks she's lost any interest in eating. If I had to guess I'd say she's lost around twenty pounds.

Yeah, not good. I would make her special things (eggs or pizza or beef and rice, shoot, I even tried cereal) and she would eat it once, but that was it. Of course, I'm having to shove her pills down her throat, covered in cheese of course, but this makes no one happy.

We thought the Cerenia pills were decreasing her appitite, so I stopped them two days ago, only to be rudely awaken by the sound of a dog trying to vomit. *sigh*

I'll update you on Friday.

Until then, Write On!

Miasma of Death

hangs in the air. Pungent decay floats on the warm springtime breeze. . .

Okay, I'm late again--I thought about different blogs, but couldn't seem to get motivated to actually write them. As an ode to spring, I will assign this task: Using the above information, name that flowering tree, shrub, or flower. I'll post the answer sometime in mid-afternoon when I've had a couple of guesses.

Trust me, you'll never look at this object in the same manner EVER again! :-)

Until later, peeps! Oh, other than working in my garden, spraying horticultural oil, and working on my own behind, I plan to . . .

Write on!

Love/Hate: Skiing

Pet Peeve Friday has been postponed for Love/Hate this week. We went skiing over spring break. It was a blast as always, but there is always something good to go with the bad and vice versa.

HATE the long drive (we drive from Tulsa to Keystone, roughly 12-13 hours. . . thru Kansas. . . 'nuff said) True, it isn't as bad as driving to Crested Butte (16 hours) or Steamboat Springs (16 hours)
LOVE arriving at condo, ready to kick it the next day

HATE having to put the kidlet in ski school, but this time she requested one day
LOVE bombing down the slopes without having to worry if the kidlet can keep up . . . since she's in ski school

HATE beginners who try to ski slopes that are beyond their capabilities (got side-swiped by one on a steep blue, totally took me out and I didn't see it coming. First time I fell in 5 or 6 years. Uh, I wasn't happy)
LOVE that my kidlet managed to get down a seriously icy blue slope while other skiers were falling all around her. On our last day skiing and the resort hadn't had any fresh snow, but the temps were warm enough to melt the snow the day before, resulting in serious ice.
LOVE explaining how to use poles to my kidlet and then tripping over my own poles . . . at a standstill--since my record of no falling was already broken
LOVE laughing like a total goofball.

HATE that I ate like there was no tomorrow
LOVE that I lost five pounds when I got home
HATE that I gained it back in less then twenty-four hours

HATE the sounds of skis over ice and the splits one does when one doesn't expect it.
LOVE the sound of my skis gliding over courderoy and being the first one to mark a slope (skiers know what I'm talking about)

HATE the serious lack of oxygen
LOVE the fresh air and clear nights, where it looks like there are a gazillion stars in the sky
HATE that when I walk up a flight of stairs in ski boots I might need the AED used on me--conviently placed at the top of the aforementioned flight of stairs.

LOVE that they have Fat Tire on tap
HATE that they put the bathrooms DOWN stairs

LOVE night skiing. It really forces you to ski by feel.
HATE that they shut it down at 8PM, especially when Daylight Savings happened and it didn't even get dark until 7:15.
LOVE seeing the North Star and a cresent moon bathed in red

HATE drinking coffee to stay alert since it makes me investigate every rest area and McDonalds along the way
LOVE the 5 hour energy drinks
HATE how they kept me alert even after we got home at 4:30 AM and I was ready to sleep

All in all, we had a fun and successful spring break. How was yours?
And are you ready to . . .
Write On!

Pet Peeve Friday!

Parents who live their lives through their children.

Piggy-backing my Monday post here. I started wondering why some parents are so passionate about their kids playing certain sports. Honestly, I don't think it has solely to do with the parent wanting the child to do well. Part of it, yes, but I think a large portion of that misdirected passion has to do with that parents failing to succeed in their own life.

How many dad's that failed at sports in their early careers push their kids to excel even if the child doesn't really enjoy the sport?

How many parents rip their kid up one side and down the other because they didn't XY or Z {insert word} when they came off the field, or hunter course, or court?

I've seen it and I'm sure you have too.

This is for 'those' parents. Get a life! Don't live your shattered dreams through your kid. Let him live his/her own dreams.

If you want to play basketball, soccer, bungee jump, ride a horse, or whatever, what's stopping you??

Only YOU! So get off your butt and do something about it!

Write on!

Catalyst in your Life

As we trundle through life, we face obstacles, make decisions and move on.

But have you ever thought about the little things that can direct you into making the correct decision? What was the catalyst?

Catalyst: 2nd definition an agent that provokes or speeds significant change or action

Case A: When I was in my early 20's I decided that I wanted to learn to ride a horse. I've always loved horse, but my family was poor and we lived in a city, so the horse riding opportunities were slim to none. But I was making money and I went to the local riding stables, KJM Stables. My trainer put me on various school horses, until we found one that worked. Her name was Brandy Sue. Brandy had been a three-day event horse back in her day, until she had a problem foaling, which resulted in a foal's hoof tearing a hole into her rectum (I forgot the term. Jody, a little help here), which led to numerous bacterial infections. Brandy was in her late teens/early twenties when I started riding her. And I rode her in my very first hunter/jumper schooling show. Eight crossbar fences, and I had never saddled a horse before in my life when my trainer told me to get mounted. In my defense, the school horses were always saddled and ready to go when I went to class, so I never learned to saddle a horse. All I can say is Thank God, Brandy knew the course because my mind went BLANK, and I mean totally blank. I didn't even remember the course after I got off. If you pointed her to the first fence, all the rider had to do was hang on, because Brandy knew straight line, diagonal, straight, diagonal, and eight fences. Brandy was the best UNTIL the rider tried to take the driving away from her. Then she's dump your butt in the dirt . . . trust me, I wasn't the only one.
--Brandy led the way for the correct decision. It was time for me to move onto a new horse.

Case B: My fourth year of college was an internship at a hospital in my home town. So, of course, I moved back home. After I graduated, I lived at home to build up a nest egg, buy a car, {mumble, mumble} start taking riding lessons. Well, every time I started looking at apartments, my mom poo-poo'd the idea and made it easy for me to live at home. I was the last of nine, with a spread of nineteen years between the oldest and the youngest, me. Mom didn't know how to live without a kid in the house. Luckily, my bro moved back home to work on his PhD at Tulsa University . . . but I still didn't move out UNTIL a woman I worked on night shift with reamed me up one side and down the other about my 'sponging'. I hated her. BUT it was the kick in the A$$ I needed to move out on my own.
--That night shift woman was the catalyst I needed to make the right decision and move out on my own and start my life.

Case C: This isn't my story, but I did have a part in it. A writer friend called, or I called her, whatever. Anyway, she was stalled on her second story and didn't know what to do because another character kept barging into her thoughts. I told her to write that character's story. I also suggested she not let anyone read her rough draft because I felt she needed to get her emotions on the page without someone else diluting her writing with their input. I don't think she followed this piece of advice, but it worked out well. She finished the novella in a month, and she started shopping it around. Just this last month, she sold that story to Ellora's Cave. YAY, ASH!!
--I like to think I was the catalyst who gave her 'permission' to step away from her WIP (work-in-progress) to write that novella.

So, hindsight is really twenty-twenty because we can reflect upon the moment and the events surrounding a decision.

Something to think about.

Write on!

Ugly Parents leads to Ugly Children

This weekend, my kidlet had her last two basketball games of the season. One was the regularly scheduled game, and the second one was a makeup game due to a snow day.

Of course, they played the same team both times, only two hours apart.

--and it wasn't pretty in more ways than one.

These teams are supposed to be comprised of third graders, but I suspect the other team may have had a couple of fourth graders on the roster, or at the minimum OLDER third graders--if you know what I mean. Three of those girls were a head taller than my kidlet and my kidlet is TALL for her age. So when the other team got the ball near their goal it was like watching a bad game of keep away. If one of those tall girls got the ball, none of our kiddos could do anything about it until the other team scored a point.

But I have to agree with my hubster that our girls outplayed the other team and had a better grasp of the basics than they did. AND our girls were leagues ahead in the sportsmanship department than the other team.

During the first game, two of the parents on the opposing team were yelling. What it was I still don't know, but it must have been bad. They could have been yelling at our girls or the ref's calls, but whatever it was it pissed off one of the refs so much that he called the head honcho (HH) over to throw the parents OUT of the game. HH caved and allowed the parents to stay, but HH parked himself on the bench for the rest of the game. This little exhibit of poor conduct by parents was the first I had seen.

When my kidlet did dance, gymnastics and soccer, most of the time the parents giggled and laughed at the mistakes the kids made. It was all in good fun as the kids learned about the game and teamwork. But now, sports have taken a turn for the worse IMO.

This game ended in a tie, 20-20.

Cue game #2: The bad father didn't show up, but the mom and an older male child did. The parents were normal throughout this game, but nastiness showed up in their players.

I still don't 'get' all the rules for third grade bball, but if a player has the ball another player can grab it and hold on to it for a specified period of time. At that point, the ref blows the whistle and does a double thumbs up. One of the players gets to throw it in from the sidelines--still no idea how THAT was decided.

Well, large player from the other team would rip the ball out of our players arms AFTER the whistle. She did this EVERY SINGLE TIME. Ref reprimanded her, but didn't do anything about it. It did display poor sportsmanship. What was the point? Intimidation? Possibly, but THE OTHER TEAM WAS WINNING!! Again, what was the point?? Did the coach condone the attitude?? I wondered.

Another instance. Same big girl was in a tussle with one of our smallest players. And I have to give our player TONS of credit. The big girl was whipping her around like she was a rag doll and our player hung on! Wow! She's a tough one!

Another. Almost the end of the game. We were losing. I don't know by how much but at least ten points. I didn't see what was happening, but one of the other team players clotheslined one of our players ON PURPOSE. Our player was on the ground crying and trying to breath. I found out later from my kidlet that the other girl said something mean to our player, including that it 'served her right'. WHAT?? Getting clothslined when the ball wasn't anywhere nearby?? Again, what was the point?? We were losing. There was only 30 seconds left. I DON'T GET THIS BEHAVIOR!

Children learn this behavior from their parents AND the coach. I totally blame them. Parents are a child's number one influence. If a parent can't control their actions, how is a child going to learn to control hers?

If this hadn't been the last game of the season, I think the ref and coaches would have done something about this behavior.

My kidlet still likes bball and wants to play next season. I want my child to have opportunities to work as a team player. And I think I learned that no matter the age or the game there will always be bad parents who condone terrible behavior. As much as I like to think this was a lone incident, I know it wasn't. It happens in every sport youngsters play, and sometimes with dire consequences.

Just remember, IT'S JUST A GAME! and what type of parent do you want to embrace?

Something to think about.

Write on!

Pet Peeve Friday!

Don't read anything into what I say or write.
I don't have an agenda.
I don't deviously calculate what I'm going to say before I say it.
I might be thoughtless, but I'm Just Not That Sharp!
Remember, this chick can take DAYS to come up with the perfect come-back! There is no way I can undermine your confidence UNLESS you are the one who has the paranoia issue.
Get over yourself and enjoy what life has to offer.
Just something to think about.
Write On!

Screened porches

Do you remember screened porches?

Not many houses have them nowdays--except maybe in Florida, but they don't just screen porches, they screen porches, pools and back yards. Mosquito season is virtually all year round, so to enjoy the weather, you gotta do what you gotta do.

I was six when we lived in Nowhere, Oklahoma, and one summer day I remember my sister C (3 yrs older than me) come running home. She'd been playing at the creek. A couple of boys had came up and started frog gigging. For those of you city folks who don't know what frog giggin' is it's basically a sharp pointy stick you use to stab the frogs.
I still won't try frog legs.

So my bros, sis and I went to the creek to 'rescue' the frogs. I guess that's why I like frogs and toads. I'll still catch 'em and then make my kiddo scream--she's such a wuss. :-) Anyhoo, we rescued the frogs and we didn't have any place to put them, so we locked them on the front screen porch.

Anyhoo, after dark, about nine o'clock, guess what happened?

Anyone?

Hm, well, frogs sing after dark. Or you could call it croakin', warblin', or caterwauling. It WAS LOUD! Of course, Mom made my bros set the frogs free.

But it's still a memory that I fondly recall. Maybe I'll use something like that in my MG stories. You'll never know.

Write on!

'Symbolism'

Why is it that every college lit teacher insists upon finding 'symbolism' in every single story?

Is there some book they must follow and teach this concept to every freshman out there? AND why must the teacher's interpretation be the right one? Can't an individual decide what something means to him and not be lead by a nose ring just because this person is the teacher?
Why couldn't the author just simply want to write a good/funny/emotional/etc. story without someone dissecting it to death?

It's been . . . *sigh* . . . decades since I took freshmen lit, but I still ponder why my teacher felt there was a 'message' in Herman Melville's Billy Budd. I didn't get it. Still don't. Personally, I'd be laughing in my grave if anyone thought there was any special symbolism in my stories--if it's there, then it's purely by accident.

Not everything you read is meant to be deep. Some books are simply for escapism. To live in the moment of another character's shoes. To enjoy life vicariously through a character. To transport to another time or place, worldly or unworldly.

To enjoy.

I suppose this is why I've never belonged to book clubs.

Write on!

Pet Peeve Friday!--Cell Phones

Drivers who use cell phones while driving.

Come on, people! Don't you realize you are weaving back and forth like a person with a .300 alcohol reading??

If you drive and utilize the cell phone while driving--For God's Sake PLEASE STOP! Take Oprah's vow or Allstate insurance's. Just stop. No call is so important that you risk your life and that of other drivers!

Personally, I hate phones. Always have, always will. . . except when I'm talking to my SIL Margie or my writing buddy, Cyndi, then it's no holds barred and I've been known to talk an hour or so. The only reason I own a cell phone is because I used to work the 5 AM shift at the hospital and my hubster wanted me to have a phone in case something happened.

If you must answer the phone while you are driving then pull off the road, PARK YOUR CAR, and return the call. As a society we have been programed to respond immediately. Uh, no you don't. We survived before cell phones were in use, we'll survive once again.

Oh, and for those of you who have been issued a cell phone for work--it's the company's phone NOT YOURS. And if they have a policy of no phone calls while driving and you have a wreck, guess what? They'll check the phone records. You betcha. Guess who will be looking for a job sans cell phone? YOU.

Something to think about.

Write on

Memories jump off story ideas

I've been writing my middle grade series that takes place in a town called Nowhere, Oklahoma (not it's real name--SURPRISE! *snort*), when I was six. We moved from California to this little hole-in-the-wall town in March of 1968 (Yes, I know I'm dating myself). Anyhoo, I couldn't remember how long we lived there, so I called my mom (still kickin' at 88 years old). We lived there only four months. But it was four months that none of us will ever forget.

I have some wonderful memories, but my siblings didn't. Mom shared a few with me, one of them she recently found out from my bro (5 years my senior).

Jumping ahead here--when Erica Orloff critted my Faerie story, she mentioned that the teacher was too mean. Well, okay, I could tone her down, especially since the gym teacher was a goblin and he could do mean quite nicely thank you very much. But meanness in teachers isn't a new thing. It comes in all forms.

Back to my bro's story. It turns out the teachers in this little town didn't take too kindly to strangers, much less strangers from CALIFORNIA. In fact, they wouldn't allow any people of color to live within the city limits. I think when my aunt died in 1988, they 'allowed' one African-American family to move in, and I'm sure it wasn't an easy adjustment for that family. Remember--boondocks of Oklahoma. My bro's teacher was nasty enough to make him stand at the front of the class to 'teach' the rest of the class square roots, because he was from California, therefore smarter than everyone else. My bro had just turned 12 and hadn't learned square roots.

Four months later we moved to Tulsa, a virtual metropolis, but I think that experience had a profound effect on my bro. In high school, he wasn't just at the top of the curve for grades, he was so far ABOVE the curve they had to leave him out of the calculations because he skewed the curve too much. He continued his academic career by getting a PhD in Electrical Engineering. Yep, he's one smart cookie. And sometimes when I talk to him, everything goes right over my head, and I've been known to ask him to dumb it down for me.

Everything that we see, do, act upon, etc. changes who we are. It becomes our baggage. Some baggage is good, some isn't. It's all in how we deal with it or if we allow the baggage to rule our lives.

Something to think about.

Write on!

Church of Wandering Thoughts

I try to be a good church-going catholic. Really I do. I sit, kneel or stand in the appropriate places. I know the prayers by heart. And I listen to the readings.

But when it comes to the homily where the priest steps up to the mic to relate the readings to everyday life--well, my mind goes bye-bye. It could be because priests tend to be a little out of touch with the world, or it could be because every priest that I've listened to has a well-modulated voice--i.e. monotone and 'soothing'.

Instead of getting sleepy, my conscious mind takes all my sub-conscious writerly-type info and goes to town. Usually, I channel different scenes, some from my current story and some from stories down the road. But last Sunday, I really got some good stuff.

Several years ago, I wrote a story called THE LEPRECHAUN CONNECTION. Though I pimped it everywhere I only had one real bite, but it was eventually rejected for being too diverse with numerous fantasy elements. So I shoved it under the bed.

Or so I thought. But this story preyed on my mind as I wondered about the back story of my main character. Plus I had introduced so many characters and situations that it was a shame for them to go to waste. How had things in Celestia gotten so bad?

Names have been changed, but the main character in Leprechaun IS my protagonist in my MG novels only this time I'm writing her back story in real time.

I started wondering about how evil half-blood trolls managed to get enough knowledge to rule Celestia, and now I know--the answer is in MG novel #3, FOR WHOM THE BELL TROLLS, but first I have to finish THE FAST AND THE FAERIEOUS.

Oh, and remember those early readers that I wrote about Peter the fly? They won't go to waste either as I have rewrites planned for all of them.
Oh, I may not sell any of these stories, but I'm having fun writing, or should I say rewriting, them!

So, remember, dear author friends, characters and scenes from books shoved under the bed are still fodder for your fertile mind. Make good use of these, and remember . . .

Recycling is good for the soul.

Write on!

Pet Peeve Friday!

Today I'm bring up the topic of . . .

PIMPLES!

What is up with them? I'm 48.46 years old and I'm breaking out! I don't think I'm stressing about anything . . . unless its the wrinkles battling it out with the pimples on my facial turf.

Aarrrggghhh!

'nuff said.

Write on!

Another Agent Contest!

And here's another contest for MG and YA writers! If you don't take the opportunity to submit your work, then I'm not wasting my time on you any more!

It's easy-peasy. Click on the link and read the instructions. Don't print it because it will print gobs and gobs of paper . . . uh, yeah, learned that one the hard way. Or you can copy and paste onto a word document and then print that out.

The goal is to write something that catches the eye of Jennifer Laughran an agent with the Andrea Brown Literary Agency. Who knows what could happen?

Remember the January Secret Agent contest on Miss Snark's First Victim's blog? The agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette opened up queries to anyone who read the blog. Guess what? One of the queriers was signed! Yes, it can be that easy! Timing, luck, and the ability to recognize an opportunity is all that matters. . . well, that and writing a damn good story.

So quit whining and take advantage of this opportunity!

Write on!

Queryosis

QUERYOSIS

que-ry /'kwir-e/ n. [ alt. of earlier quere, fr. L quaere, imper. of quarerer to ask] inquiry

-osis n suffix [ME. fr, L., fr. Gk -osis, fr.-o- (stem of causitive verbs in -oun) + sis] condition

queryosis--the condition, action, or process of inquiring, asking questions, or exhibiting fear that requesting agent or editor will visualize the author committing hari-kari.

Symptoms include paranoia, depression, and lack of will to live another day. Bruises may appear on author's face due to banging of forehead on keyboard, which results in impressions of said keyboard.

Condition can lead to excessive drinking (usu. gin, whiskey or high quality tequila) and imbibing of all things chocolate (including, but not excluding, choc beer, Godiva, handfuls of Nestles chocolate morsels, including eating chocolate scented lip balm as a desperate measure). Those authors lacking in any addictive personalities have been known to rearrange furniture (laughing hysterically when family members, dogs and cats trip over the new arrangement or fail to land in misplaced chair) and nail-biting. Callous disregard of said query by blow-hole--oops, blow-hard--agents can lead to author's spewing of expletives and rants. Rejection spirals aforementioned author into vicious round of paranoia and depression, thereby starting the cycle over again.

Cure: There is none. Studies have shown brief euphoria by author when agent and/or editor expresses the faintest of interest in said author's work (also known as author's blood, sweat and tears or 'baby'), but this is fleeting especially when rejection soon follows. Another burst of euphoria may happen when agent offers contract. This will exacerbate the condition by additional symptoms of brief bouts of stuttering and feverish gibber-jabber, which makes no sense at all except to the author with this condition. Alas, this vicious cycle continues when agent receives rejections from various publishing houses and mistakenly believes author can handle said rejection.

Long term effect: author tends to become moody and withdrawn, building more elaborate worlds in which to live in since humanity has obviously turned it's back upon said author. Author withdraws from society. A blank smile is plastered on her face, her hair is in disarray, as she shuffles around in pink fuzzy slippers, clutching her fuzzy snuggie (also known as a straight jacket or secret society initiation robes) about her person. Periodically, the aforementioned writer will lose her smile as a blank expression settles over her face--drooling may be involved--until her eyes glitter as if with fever and she bursts out in maniacal laughter and runs over to computer and begins to type at hyper-speed.

This is perfectly normal for said authors who have reached an equilibrium with queryosis as a new story flows from demented author's mind and is channeled through her fingers. Birth is being given to a new 'baby'.

Author is finally at peace.

Write on!

Pet Peeve Friday!

Today's pet peeve centers around those people who simply stop responding.
--And I'm not talking agents and editors, people!

Actually, I had a HUGE rant prepared and I have since deleted it.

If you've been too busy to think about someone you haven't heard from in forever--give them a call, drop them a line, and reconnect.

Open the door--and who knows, they might step through it. And if they don't, you've tried.

And if all else fails--Send them nekkid kitties!

Something to think about.

Write on!

A Million Words

Recently I've thought about the million word mark. When would I reach it? Did it really weave its magic spell and validate me as a writer? Will I sell after writing a million words?

I probably already surpassed the 1M mark, but who really counts? No, it won't validate me as a writer. I could write 1 M words of crap and it wouldn't make me a better writer. And no, there is no guarantee that I'll ever sell, before or after hitting that milestone.

The million word concept has some points though, and unless you are as stubborn as a shoe nailed to the floor, it will improve your writing. How could it not? Provided you do some of the hard work that goes along with reaching that milestone.

So what does THAT mean?

The hard work involves reading about craft, learning what a plot is, writing believable dialogue, crafting multi-dimensional characters, providing the beats of the story in a solid structure, researching the genre (yes, there are reader expectations to consider--i.e. don't call a story a 'romance' if you kill off the hero or heroine. It might be a love story, but it ain't a romance), etc.

It isn't just writing the story in your mind. It's writing a story that sucks the reader into your make-believe world.

Writing a million words without learning the craft will not do a darn thing to improve you as a writer.

Writing a million non-fiction words don't count toward the 1 M fiction words--they are simply too different of a beast.

Some writers sell on their first 100K words, while others may need to write 2-3 million before they get it {personally, I think I'm in this second group}.

As a writer, the only thing you can do is . . .

Write on! :-)

Traveling the Road

Every writer has to journey along her own path toward publication. Some paths are short and straight, while other paths meander, change direction, or simply dead end. Many writers have had help along the way in the form of encouragement, critique groups, or simply someone believing in them. The encouragement from someone who has traveled the road shouldn't be taken lightly, and many of us receive validation throughout much of the process--even if it doesn't feel like it.

Last Thursday, Erica Orloff wrote a blog about beta readers, and I whined in the comments about my lack of CP's and betas since I switched to writing middle grade novels. None of my romance buddies wanted to tackle it, which is understandable if they don't read or know anything about the genre. I belong to SCBWI, the Verla Kay blueboards, and I've visited my local SCBWI group, but I never really hooked up with anyone.

I was alone in a new genre that I thought was my true writing voice, but I didn't really know if I was on track with this genre. I had finished one MG manuscript and queried the snot out of it. I had a few bites, but no takers. I thought TO GNOME ME IS TO LOVE ME (title change from MISSING: ONE GARDEN GNOME) was ready to shove under the bed, until Authoress's Secret Agent contest when an agent wanted to see the first three chapters. (Keep your eyes open, she does Secret Agent contests all the time! Different genres!) I read the first three chapters of Gnome, and thought, "Well, that's a load of crap!" and promptly cut chapters two and three. Oh, I got a rejection two days later, but it opened my eyes about Gnome. Since I had spent the time rewriting the first three chapters of Gnome, I decided to do a last ditch effort by snail mailing about seven agents--packets going out on Monday.

Fast forward back to Erica. Erica offered to beta read two chapters.
WOW! I. AM. SO. STOKED!
Erica Orloff is published in adult fiction (Freudian Slip), but she is also published in middle grade fiction under the pseudo, Erica Kirov (Magickeepers series). Finally someone who writes MG will actually look at my story!
--and I wasn't going to send her Gnome. I had started #2 in the series, THE FAST AND THE FAERIEOUS and sent her the first two chapters. I was 10000K words into this story (1/3 of the way for MG). Plus, Mary Kole, children's agent with Andrea Brown Literary Agency was holding a contest on her Kidlit blog, and she'd already rejected Gnome so I wanted something new to submit.

Would I receive the validation I so desperately needed about writing in this genre?
Would she soft-soap me, telling me I was good when I truly sucked?

I didn't know what to expect, but knowing Erica--albeit only through her blog--I knew I would get straight forward honesty. And I think if I didn't have a MG voice, she would have told me.
Good stuff:
I DID nail the voice of a MG novel/character!
I DID get the MG one-liners and the 'one-off' comments down pat.
I DID have mini-cliff hangers at the end of the two chapters she read.
Bad stuff:
I DID manage to confuse her. :-) She thought the story sounded like the second in a series (it is), but I didn't leave enough clues to make THIS story readable for a new reader.
I DID have too much 'meanness'--I discovered this meanness in Gnome and it's one of the parts I changed.
I DID make the teacher too extreme and full of adult snark--not appropriate for MG--easy to tone her down.

But to me, Erica's best comment was, "Again . . . you have a great voice . . . and voice can’t be taught, I don’t think. It feels very natural."

I might not be published yet, but I'm back on the path.

Write On!

I would love to thank the CP's I've had over the years (Marilyn, Susan, Linda, Cyndi, and many others who have given of your time and talents) Many times I didn't truly appreciate your tough love, but now I do.
Thank you.

Pet Peeve Friday!

I wondered what my pet peeve would be this week.

Would it be the overzealous meteorologists who seemed on a power trip by spreading the horrible news of an ice storm--a week before it would hit?

Would it be the lousy restaurant service, as in NEVER came back to the table, we got at a Chili's recently?

But when I read through the comments on Jessica Faust's Bookend's blog Thursday {actually, it was MY question. I sent it to her before the holidays last December! :-)}, the choice was made for me.

I decided to gripe about comment trolls.

You know who I mean. Those disgruntled, and 99%, Anonymous commenters who,
1) change the topic so they could blow hard,
2) anonymously put their own perverted agenda on the list
3) are those drama queen CATALYSTS who are obnoxious just to get controversy started.
4) and all the trolls seem to be 100% negative about what ever topic they are hijacking.
--May karma bite deep in their arse!

It's sad, but I think those commenters are the same ones who spam agents with their queries because they KNOW their work is great and every agent on earth is a moron because they won't represent them, so they query them with multiple email addys daily. It ticks me off, because it makes it harder for the rest of us.

--Speaking of which, if all agents are morons why would they want one as an agent? Something to think about.

It's sad really. So many agents who have given of their time and expertise have had to drop their blogs, go to moderated comments (leaving less time to read our queries), or stop providing publishing information to the writing public.

So, if you see a troll--cut their Achilles tendon, then they fall and go boom!

Write on!

Kidlit Contest!

Only a few more days to enter the KidLit contest!
Kidlit Contest

Drama Queens!

Have you ever noticed that some people have tons of drama in their lives?

Financial, social, familial, or whatever, there is aways something going on. And a day doesn't go by where some sort of trauma-drama isn't going on . . . and anyone around usually gets to hear about it. And I'm not talking teen drama, they're angsty enough on their own, I'm talking about my peers, women around my own age (45-55 years old).

Are you one of those people? Or are you the wallflower simply listening to the drama, wondering how it happens that your life is steady and boring? Or are you one of those people I call a catalyst, and stir up emotions just because you want to watch the fireworks?

In case you couldn't figure it out, I belong to the 'B' for boring group. Drama happens to other people, not me. I'm the person they used to come to crying their eyes out about something. Though it doesn't happen very often any more. I'd hazard a guess it's because I'm less tolerant than I used to be in my younger days. Provide a little 'tough love' and the drama queens run and hide. They want someone to listen to their woes, agree that they were in the right and the other person is a scumbag. They don't want you to tell them to get a grip and put their big girl panties on, and face their problems with their chins up.

As a writer what do you do when drama happens around you? Do you sit back and listen, gathering tidbits for some story? Or do you slink away, hating any type of confrontation? Or do you wonder why other people are drama queens and you just cruise along MYOB?

Just curious, though not terminally curious like my writer friend Susan. Chime in.

Write on!

Pukin' Pup

UPDATE: Katie does not have pancreatitis. The next step is far grosser than I even want to tackle here OR in real life. Since we have the vomiting under control with this new medicine ($6 a pill!!--daily!) we will just settle for that.

Yeah, another bodily functions discussion. *sigh* It happens when you have geriatric animals.
I will return to writing related blogs on Wednesday and Friday! stay tuned
I took Katie to the vet on Friday. She'd been throwing up with increasing regularity over the past month. Per her veterinarian:
--I've increased her feedings until they were less than six hours apart, culminating in leaving food in her bowl at all times. She wouldn't eat, but Kato Kitty would . . . and proceed to puke it up.
--I've medicated her with OTC acid reflux meds
--I've increased the OTC meds 2 different times
--gotten a prescription of Reglan
--increased that med 2 different times

But nothing helped. Oh, they would work for a few days and then the vomiting would start again. Both hubster and I are pretty gun shy, leaping up from a sound sleep when we hear 'noises'. And this doesn't count what our carpeting looks like. Luckily 95% of the time I got her to a tile or wood floor.

Finally fed up, I made an appointment to have Katie's bloodwork drawn and x-rayed. It costs $$$ and I didn't want to pay $$$ if I didn't have to!
Side note: When I went to pick her up--I got to pet a squirrel! It was so cute! Its fur was a little coarser than expected, but squirrels are cute rodents.
They had to tranq the poor thing to relax her enough to stretch her for the x-rays. Uh, they also gave her an enema to clean out her lower intestine for better pictures--not good.

Sheepdog + enema = a real mess = BATHTIME!

Today is Saturday and she's still stoned out her gourd, AND she hasn't eaten. This is cause for consternation--it's when she hasn't eaten that she throws up, but she hasn't thrown up yet. So I guess that's a good thing.
It's Monday morning now and still no adverse effects! Yay!

I have been able to get this new medicine (Cerena) down her, liberally wrapped in cheese. Only time will tell.

Oh, you probably wonder about her diagnosis: Inconclusive.

Her cecum (doggy version of an appendix) was enlarged, but it usually doesn't cause vomiting.
She had and elevated amylase, but not lipase. If both were seriously increase, we could call it acute pancreatitis, but they weren't.
We had to send off another pancreatic test for a definitive diagnosis of chronic pancreatitis. We'll find out next week.
If all of this is inconclusive, then its endoscopy and biopsy time.

I'll keep you updated.

Until then, Write On!

Pet Peeve Friday!

Who's up for another round of Pet Peeve Friday?!

This pet peeve is a little more specific to me, but I think it can affect all writers out there.

When is a manuscript really done? When do you know it's time to send it out?

For example, let's use my gnome story. I thought this story was done last June when I entered it in the Delacorte contest and subsequently queried the snot out of it. Got a few requests, but rejections on the partials.

Okay, fine, and I shoved it under the proverbial bed.

This year, I start getting serious about my second manuscript in the series, FF and have 10K written/edited. Well, I see that Miss Snark's First Victim has a Secret Agent contest ready to go with an agent who wants only MG and YA. The entry is only 250 words, and the only MG story that I have finished is my gnome story. I sub it. I see some comments that make me think.

On Sunday about 3 AM, I wake up realizing that I need to cut TWO CHAPTERS. Not just any two chapters, but chapters two and three as they don't really move the story forward.

Now, why on earth would I go back to this story and rework the whole front end? Isn't this story dead in the water? Am I a total idiot? {uh, don't answer that}

No, I didn't win or get runner-up in this contest, but I did get an honorable mention of sorts, along with about 10 other stories. This is the Secret Agent and she works at the Erin Murphy Literary Agency, which happens to be closed to unsolicited queries.

Hey, any foot in the door!

So this week while I was cutting and reworking the first thirty pages of gnome, I finally realized why one of my partials got a rejection. The agent said she didn't like the character. At the time, I thought, okay fine . . . until I started reading chapter three.

My character's mean. She does some mean teasing to a friend and enjoys it. No wonder that agent didn't like her--heck, I don't like her. That wasn't my character--it was me writing stuff trying to 'discover' who my character is.

It's how I write, but I wasn't sharp enough to catch it first time around. *sigh* I just wished I'd realized it before I sent all those queries out.

Of course, since I've reworked the first thirty pages, I now feel the need to cut 5 K out of the rest of the story. My discovery doesn't mean I'm going to get a request for more material. All I get out of reworking this is the satisfaction that I finally did right by my character.

So, how long did it take you to realize your beautiful baby had cradlecap?

It took me six months AWAY from the manuscript before I realized it. Kick me, if I try to query FF too early, 'kay?

Write on!

Fridge Funkage

On Sunday, I was fed up--I had to clean my refrigerator.

For the past month, something was funky and I didn't know what or where it was. Trust me, I was sniffing EVERYTHING! The problem was the funk had permeated every single thing, including the ice cubes.

It was time.

The only time my fridge is packed full of food is around the holidays. I'm a big--eat leftovers or I toss them out--fan. Nothing usually stays in there longer than three weeks--TOPS. And I never grow science experiments in there. Well, hubster was home for the holidays and I cooked almost every day, which meant lots of lefties . . . and an increase in funkage.

I had enough!

Plus cleaning the fridge got me out of cleaning the rest of the house. :-) THANKS, HONEY!!

I started with the door shelves, removing jars, condiments, booze, salad dressing, etc. along with the shelves. Scrub-a-dub-dub and it was all nice and shiny again. Since everything was out, it was time to purge. I found a Newman's Italian salad dressing that was a year past the printed expiration date, a year old jar of capers, two types of jelly that hadn't been used a a long time ever since the kidlet switched to peanut butter and honey sandwiches, and a tube of anchovy paste from when I made homemade Caesar dressing. All tossed.

I started with the shelves, pulling out food, lefties, and a variety of other stuff. I found a container of unopened sour cream--expired in December, and I tossed some of the older lefties. I took out the shelves and washed them. I cleaned the walls, even getting into the tiny crevices that the shelves slid into. But nothing smelled like the funk.

Time for the three bins. Top bin holds cheese and lunch meats. I thought it was the Genoa salami, but no, that was just pungent garlic. Second bin was the veggies. By this time everything stank. And the third bin I usually keep onions, lemons, and assorted other stuff.

Everything was scrubbed down. I even figured out how to take out the supports for the bins, and cleaned all around. I started loading the bins. The top one was okay, but I did throw some open hot dogs. But that wasn't what smelled.

I did the bottom bin, 'cause it's half the size of the veggie bin. Nope, not there.

Finally, I took care of the veggie bin. I had lettuce, parsley, kale, celery, carrots, mushrooms, broccoli and cauliflower. The lettuce, carrots and celery were fresh. And so was the kale and parsley--what can I say?--our little guinea pig LOVES kale and parsley! The mushrooms were fairly fresh, but they had absorbed the stank, so I tossed them. That left broccoli and cauliflower--nasty-ass smelling stuff on their own.

It was the cauliflower--it didn't look bad, but DAMN! it stunk after I opened the bag--uh, if it happens to you . . . DO NOT OPEN THE CONTAINER!

An hour and a half later--and my fridge is super-duper clean!

Now, I can . . . Write On!

Texting While Driving

Years ago, I was rear-ended by a teenager answering his phone while driving. I had stopped for a car in front of me to take a right hand turn. I glanced in the mirror (Safety rule #1 Foot to Break, Eyes to Mirror) and saw a car coming down on me. I tried to get out of the way, but it was too late. I was the meat in a car sandwich. Luckily, no one was seriously injured, but I did have my toddler in the backseat at the time. Personally, I hold the teenager's mother at fault. She knew he was enroute and called him. If she hadn't called. her son there would not have been an accident.

The following is a public service announcement. I hope you can pass the word to your family, friends, and co-workers. Feel free to cut and paste the video and subsequent message on your blog, Facebook Notes or wherever.

Many companies have started eliminating cell phone usage while driving, texting and talking, due to the increase in accidents. When you are issued a cell phone by your company, IT IS NOT YOUR PHONE. It is the company's phone and you must play by their rules.

Over the past year my husband's company has debated the elimination of cell phone use in vehicles, they have now adopted this practice throughout the company. My husband personally committed to this several months ago and found it to be a difficult but good change. Please take some time to view this video and then consider the three questions below.

http://ut.zerofatalities.com/texting.php

Below is just a sample of what research has learned about driving and using cell phones or other electronic communication devices. Most of the data/research is related to talking on cell phones but also includes texting, GPS, Email, and the like.

• A 20 year old on a cell phone has the reaction time of a 70 year old
• Twofold increase in the number of simulated rear end collisions when drivers were conversing on cell phones vs. not
• Drivers talking on cell phones are more impaired then drivers with Blood Alcohol level of 0.08
• Drivers are far more distracted by cell phone conversations then by conversations with passengers
• Study found drivers make more mistakes when talking on cell phones than when talking to a passenger
• Hands free cell phones were found to be just as distracting as hand held
• Texting while driving is more dangerous than driving under the influence of alcohol
• You are four times more likely to be involved in a serious accident involving a fatality or a disabling injury
• In an insurance survey 67% of drivers reported using cell phones 45% admitted being hit or nearly hit by a driver on a cell phone
• In the same survey 4 out of 5 cell phone owners admitted to driving while distracted
• As far back as 2003 the Harvard Center for Risk Analysis reported 636,000 crashes, 330,000 injuries, 12,000 serious or disabling injuries, and 2600 deaths were directly attributable to cell phone use while driving
• Upwards of 90% of all drivers still think they are above average drivers, isn’t that a curious statistic
• Finally it’s a hard habit to break but if I can you can

1) Do you believe it can happen?
2) Do you believe it can happen to you?
3) Will you find a way to break the habit?

If you don’t believe it can happen to you then ask yourself one more question. Have you ever had one of those moments when you were using a cell phone and you looked up to see you were no longer headed straight down the road in your lane?

Something to think about, isn't it?

Write on!

Pet Peeve Friday!

So many blogs have themes within their blogs. And for lack of anything else to comment on about, I decided that I would vent about this week's pet peeve.

My blog. My choice. My pet peeve.

And here is this week's peeve . . . *drum roll*

Just because you call your character a vamp, zombie, immortal, elf, or some other paranormal critter--IT DOESN'T MAKE IT A PARANORMAL STORY IF YOU CAN REMOVE THE PARANORMAL ASPECT FROM THE STORY AND THE STORY STILL HOLDS TOGETHER.

Here's the deal.

RWA has just sent out Golden Heart contest entries to be judged. I usually request either Paranormal or Historical entries. Historical is easy--anything pre-WWII is considered historical. Some eras are more popular than other eras, but it's easy to define historical.

This year I ended up with six Paranormal entries.

Judging guidelines per RWA's judging instructions:

Paranormal Romance: Romance novels in which the future, a fantasy world, or paranormal happenings are an integral part of the plot.

See the word in red?? Hmm?? Personally, I think it needs to be highlighted on the instruction sheet. When the paranormal aspect is integral to the story and you remove it, then the story falls apart. The paranormal aspect has to be woven into the story, not just plopped in there to call it paranormal.

Just to clarify: the following examples are NOT from my current selection of GH entries.

Sorry, but saying your main character's canine's lengthen twice in fifty pages doesn't make it a paranormal, unless he does something with them, like chomp on the heroine's neck. Or having a medieval setting and calling your character's elves doesn't make it a paranormal, unless you have a battalion of orcs, trolls or dragons trying to kill them. Or having a hero think a hawk is actually his long lost love doesn't make it a paranormal, unless he actually sees a shapeshifting, ie LADYHAWK .

But a psychic solving a murder mystery by using her abilities DOES make it a paranormal (BLIND SIGHT by Susan Shay). Or having an immortal brand a human to force her to help purge the world of demons because she slept with his brother (Eve of Darkness by S. J. Day). Or having a hockey player pay penance for his aggressive behavior on the ice by becoming a tooth fairy is a paranormal (Okay, THE TOOTH FAIRY with Dwayne Johnson hasn't come out yet, but still. . . I wanna see it!). Or having a reanimator solve mysteries by raising the dead (Anita Blake character by Laurell K. Hamilton). Shapeshifter Mercy Thompson series by Patricia Briggs. Even Deb Macomber's angels (Shirley, Goodness and Mercy) play a role in their stories by manipulating their star-crossed lovers. And last, but certainly not least, LADYHAWK. Wow, talk about a romance featuring star-crossed lovers! That would be considered a paranormal, because if you take out the curse that forces them to shapeshift, you don't have a story.

The paranormal must function as part of the story. Take it out and the story falls apart.

Simple rule. Please follow it.

Write on!

New Phones Lead to Dieting . . .

Trust me, I'll segue into the the topic in my usual roundabout way.

In November, we had to buy new phones for the house when we were finally able to move our number over to Vonage from the local carrier--long distance is no extra charge. Well, we were having issues with our phone, so it was cheaper to buy a new phone, than to fix the old phone.

--Actually, that's how I got a new 11-cup food processor. I needed a new bowl--the latching hinge was broken--new bowl-- $90, new food processor $110. Yep, I got the new food processor for Christmas.
--My hubster (who never reads my blog, except for today) feels strongly that it should be noted that I REQUESTED the aforementioned food processor for Christmas.
There--satisfied now? Hmmm?

Back to phones. If you haven't gone phone shopping recently you'll soon discover that they don't have 'wall phones' any more, at least not in the type of phone we needed.
I have a phone on my desk in the kitchen--like I need any more crap on my small desk--but I do like the fact that I don't have to get up only to discover some nimrod ignored our 'do not call' instructions. Now, I can simply ignore it or hit Talk and then hang up. :-)

So we have new phones, BUT we also have a postcard size cover on a major wall in our living area where the wall phone used to reside. EVERYONE who comes into my house will see this thing in the wall. It's in the living area, next to my kitchen and you have to walk by it everytime you go anywhere on the lower level.

Hubster's response to this problem: buy photo frames for Christmas. Three of them.

He had set up digital photo frames for two lobbies at work. Actually, six large photo frames and subsequent technology needed, were less than 25% of the budgeted monies for frames and decorations. He works for a small company and they take pride in their 'family-oriented' outlook.

Anyhoo, he bought the frames. Now he has to go through our pictures, cropping, turning, and deleting. I think we got our first digital camera about the time the kidlet was born. Earlier pics will have to be scanned in and fixed. We've had fun looking at the old pictures, but it has brought home how out of shape we've let ourselves become.

Okay, I'm out of shape. He's just had snow thrown on his hair.

I'm always reminded of the quote by Edna Mode in THE IMPOSSIBLES when she sees Mr. Incredible for the first time in years as he's waiting to be let in at the guard gate. "My God, you've gotten fat!" she says in her German accent. Yeah, that's me.

Both of us are working out. I've just started measuring my portions and writing it all down in a food diary. I like the idea of giving myself a year to lose the weight. I'd like to lose 40 pounds, but any loss is better than none.

So that's how photo frames became the reason for my dieting.

After I workout today I'll . . . Write On!

Death will come. . .

it's just a matter of when.

*WARNING: Animal bodily functions blog*

I'm talking pets today. We have a small menagerie and most of them are geriatric, but I think the first to die will probably be Blinky, our beta fish.

Blinky is relatively new to our house; I think we bought him about six months ago. He'll be the first to die since he's been laying on his side for the past week. I've lost count of how many times I've tapped the glass only to have him swim away. He'd probably thinking, 'just leave me @#$@#$ alone!', but I tap and he moves . . . and lives.

Kato kitty is our oldest pet. He's outlived hamsters, guinea pigs and rabbits. Kato is my pre-marriage cat, and almost twenty years old. Todd calls him the cat who would not die. :-) He lives a pretty good life. When we carpeted the house about two years ago, we moved him to the laundry room. 1) it's one of the warmest places in the house, 2) it's large, 3) I can feed him and keep his litter box in the same room--about five feet apart, 4) he sleeps on the dryer. Yeah, kitty heaven when I'm doing laundry--warm vibrations.

Kato pukes A LOT--even for a cat. He pukes when he drinks water, when he eats too much and then drinks water, when he's in bed, when he's using the kitty litter box--he pukes, it's what he does. If a day goes by and he doesn't puke, I'm wondering what's going on. He used to puke in our closest, until we recarpeted. Now he throws up in the tile laundry room--I Fantastic the floor and wash the extra towels and bedding I have to keep him warm.

--Speaking of which, I need to take his stuff out of the washing machine.

Some mornings I don't want to look in his little room. Today, I had to gird my loins with a stout cup of joe before I thought about cleaning up his latest mess. It wasn't totally his fault--the kidlet decided to put a bell around his neck last night and forgot to remove it. Kato decided to eat the bell. I thought he had swallowed the ribbon, but luckily not. So he puked up the bell--and to show his displeasure he decided to poop on a towel I have covering the washing machine.

*sigh* Long live the kitty that wouldn't die!

Katie is our geriatric sheep dog. I think she's turning thirteen this year. For the most part she's a good dog, though she's gotten grumpier with age. She hates having her ears plucked or her coat brushed, but suffers through it. For years she's been on thyroid meds and doing well. Two summers ago we had some issues with anal glands, subsequently removing them.

Well, about four months ago--the puking started. And it isn't hairball puke--it's disgusting!

--Yes, I have two puking geriatric pets. I thought when the kidlet got past the puking and pooping in a diaper stage, life would be smooth sailing. Uh, WRONGO!

Anyhoo, I've started feeding Katie in smaller, more frequent meals, leaving a little in her bowl--PROBLEM: the cat will eat the dog's food and then PUKE it up.

Katie's on vomiting medication and we've just increased it, but she throws up every couple of days--the toughest when we are sound asleep and we hear her starting to ralph. 1) I leap out of bed, trying to figure out where the dog is, 2) grab her by the collar to lead her to tile floor in bathroom, 3) dog uncooperative--she's trying to puke for gosh sakes!--and growly, 4) dog pukes, 5) Sheepdogs have long fur--I try to clean her mouth and try to keep her from stepping in it--dog growls, 6) dog pukes again, 7) I get the joy of cleaning up since I don't have to go to work and my dear hubster does. *sigh* Isn't the life of a stay-at-home mom just glamorous??

And our last pet, Rocky, a guinea pig. If he pukes, I don't know or care. Rocky lives in a nice sawdust-filled home. It's a large glass snake cage with a screen top. Rocky is really cute and he's my buddy. So, of course, I'm highly allergic to guinea pigs, every time I pet him, I have to scrub down.
We were looking at some old pictures the other day--getting them ready for our digital photo frames--and we found pictures of Rocky when he was a whelp, pup, or whatever baby GP's are called. Rocky is now five, almost six. Old for a guinea pig. Harry (Harriette) our last GP was seven when she died. So Rocky is a geriatric GP.

I love all my animals and it will break my heart when they die. Life keeps moving on and until they die, I'll be loving, petting . . . and cleaning up puke.

Write on!

Ticked Off!

I'm seriously steamed! And I may be ruffling some feathers with this blog, but so be it. I need to vent.

Yesterday and today, the powers that be decided they should shut school down--the kids have been back for all of three days and they shut school down?? Are they trying to make parents crazy??

Why?

Because it is too cold for the little darlings. Give me a break.

Okay, here's the story. As we are all aware 2/3 of this country is under the deep freeze--and abnormally cold deep freeze temps. They predicted a dusting to two inches of snow, but serious windchills in the negative zone. So the school board decided that the little darlings would suffer hypothermia waiting for the school busses, so they closed school. Well, I should say that the Tulsa Public Schools (TPS) shut down, therefore the other public schools followed suit.

Anyhoo, we belong to the Union School district, not TPS. They had a plan--a pretty good one, until they had to follow the idiots at TPS. The plan was to allow children into the school at 8:15 instead of 8:45 and they would keep the kids inside at the end of the day, using a walkie-talkie to indicate which car is ready to pick up which kid. This is how they handle rainy days. It's slow, but it works.

But they had to follow the dubious lead of TPS.

Granted, I'm a stay-at-home mom and it's no skin off my nose if my kid stays home. Yeah, it puts a kink in my plans, but it's no big deal. But for parents where both parties work, someone has to lose a day of pay OR find some other baby-sitting alternative. I don't know about you all, but I think parents would rather lose an hour or two of work by 1)waiting with their kid at a bus stop, or 2) driving their kid to school and be tardy for work, instead of losing TWO WHOLE DAYS of pay!

But here's the kicker--we didn't get any precip snow or otherwise, but the local government in their supreme intelligence decided to salt the roads . . . There was NO PRECIPITATION, PEOPLE!! Zero. Zilch. Nada. Not even frost on the roads. Now, after our huge blizzard that took 2/3 of our winter salt supply and they had to dig into other funds to buy more salt.

Here's another kicker, taken from HOW STUFF WORKS:
--if the temperature of the roadway is lower than 15 F or so, then the salt really won't have any effect -- the solid salt cannot get into the structure of the solid water to start the dissolving process.
--guess what the temperature was? Just guess. Okay I'll tell you, less than 15 degrees.

--uh, they are talking about laying off 100+ policemen and firemen, and some MORON decides it's a smart idea to salt the roads when there was NO PRECIPITATION! Someone needs to get fired and it ain't the cops or firemen!

Okay, I'm done. Still ticked, but finished for the moment.

Please chime in with your thoughts--either way.

Until later, 'cause I won't be able to Write On! until next Monday when the little darling goes back to school. Oh, and then they have a four day weekend next week. Yeah, I think there needs to be some upheaval in the school boards.

Oldies, but Goodies

I'm talking middle-grade books here.

About six months ago, I bought THE MOUSE AND THE MOTORCYCLE by Beverly Cleary for my kidlet. She wasn't quite ready to read it yet and so it gathered dust on her bookshelf next to Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson books (which BTW she says she doesn't need to read because the movie will be out next summer. Mom's response: "nah-uh, youse reading it, kidlet, or no movie!").

On a side note: Of course, I've read all the Percy Jackson books except THE LAST OLYMPIAN--so I bought it for ME for Christmas. Yes, you heard me--I bought it for myself. I want to know how the 'series' ends. Well, I haven't read it yet, but I cheated and read the last two pages. . . there's a lead-in for another set of stories. SURPRISE!!

Anyhoo, back to the kidlet and the mouse book, she started reading it in November and finished it in about ten days. So I bought the next one . . . and the third one. She's disappointed that there will be no more Ralph books (shoot, they were written before I was even born! Hey, no jokes about the stone age. . .). But to get past her disappointment, she's had me reading a chapter to her every night before bed. I know it won't last forever since she's nine and will soon enter the "I hate you" stage, but for right now I enjoy our togetherness time.

The one thing that surprised me about the mouse story was how selfish Ralph was. I didn't remember that as a kid, and I don't think the kidlet even noticed it, but of course, Ralph grew as a little mouse when he realized his human friend was really sick and needed medicine {Aspirin--which opened up a HUGE discussion with the kidlet, since children are NOT allowed to take aspirin now days due to Reyes syndrome!}, but the medicine could kill Ralph if he touched it.

We finished the book last night and she wants me to start on Runaway Ralph next. I don't know if I want to read that one or another book, 'cause the kidlet raked in the books for Christmas, too! No surprise considering I'm her mother! I chose a variety of stories, plus a few she requested, THE WIMPY KID DIARIES, so I think she'll have enough to read in the coming year.

And if she doesn't read them, I will. As a middle-grade writer it's smart to keep up with what is out there, old and new.

It's kinda like shoes. My kidlet's feet are almost as big as mine (size 7) so I won't let her buy ugly shoes, 'cause when she outgrows them guess who inherits them?? :-) And no, I won't let her wear my stilettos (yes, when I wear heels, I wear 4-5 inch high ones)--she's too young, and when she's old enough, her feet will be too big. WooHoo! *high fives myself*

Time for me to get down to writing FF again. I'd like to have the first draft finished by the end of this month. Why? I don't know. I don't think I'll query any story this year. I'm just tired of receiving Rejections. I know it's a part of this biz, but it gets me down and I want to enjoy writing again.

Anyhoo, Write on!

Back on Track

A couple of weeks ago, I blathered on and on about goals.

I set mine.

Did you?

Here are my 2010 goals, and remember everything is subject to change:

• Write middle grade story FAST AND THE FAERIEOUS, synopsis and query
• Plot out middle grade book #3, synopsis and query
• Plot and write THE DEMON CONNECTION, synopsis and query
• Judge three unpublished writing contests (online only), plus Golden Heart
• Crit when needed
• Return to healthy lifestyle, eat smaller portions, eat healthier, and workout 3-5X per week (Wii Fit, jogging, or SKY health club)
• Use online calendar to record Tarot draw, reading/writing goals
• Attend at least one conference
• Have fun with kidlet over summer break (writing is icing)
• Wrote SUGAR PLUM DISASTER for blog serial—5241 words—finished 1/1/09 Check it out! It starts on 12/21/09. Enjoy!
• Read 50 books (keep log at bottom of goals) --One down

--Oh, I also have to get the first 10 pages of DC ready for a crit that I won on Candace Haven's blog. I need to finish that in the next day or two.

And I have personal goals along with writing goals to provide balance in my life.

Remember any writing is good, so to that end I joined a 100 X 100 goals group. Write at least 100 words for 100 days. I started on January 1 and almost forgot Sunday, but remembered in time. Blogs, comments on facebook, or emails do not count. It has to be real writing or 30 minutes of revision. During the week this is no problem, but the weekend it will be so I need to get it out of the way early in the day.

*raising my champagne flute* Here's to a healthy and happy New Year!

Did everyone eat their black-eyed peas and collard greens? I did.

Write on!