Grace Tyler, Romance Author

New job, new attitude, new WIP

2009-08-23T23:52:00.003-06:00

Life was pretty stressful the first half of this year. Work became the biggest stress, and I started searching out a new job, because nobody should have to put up with the feeling that any time you do anything wrong you'll be fired. Ten minutes late? Fired. Send too many transcriptions to the department that listens to the tricky spots in the dictation and tries to help you fill in the blank? Fired. Unexpected Dr. appt? Fired. Sick? Fired. And so on.

New job is much better, but it was hard to adjust to new software and new dictators. I'm settling in quite well now, thank you. Stress is down a great deal.

Add to the new job the fact that the family reunion is over--and it was at MY HOUSE--ah, sweet bliss! I loved seeing each and every family member and glad they came. But it was hard juggling everything, and that's a fact.

Two weeks ago, a good friend of mine passed away. While I was at her funeral, I was struck by the thought that no matter how hard times got for her, her faith in God never faltered. Neither did her cheerful nature. And I knew that I needed to imbue my stalled project, Winter Miracles, with some of Carolena's spirit.

I abandoned it after my nephew Joshua died last summer. This summer my brother and his wife had a new baby girl join their family. It was bittersweet--a wonderful new member of our family who also reminded me of the child they lost last summer. I was in too much pain last year to write a book about surviving loss.

With Carolena's passing, I saw my project in a new light. Tonight, I start anew.

Good-bye, my friend. I won't forget you.

Finished at last!

2009-04-01T11:28:00.005-06:00

The gorgeous dress (no snickers at the fabric choice the toddler made) is finished at last!

Vintage Strawberry Shortcake with little strawberries and vines for contrast. This baby has an attached slip, double ruffle, narrow hems that I hid rather invisibly beneath the lace on the ruffle and the ribbon on the sleeves -- which were a total success, because they look like Cinderella sleeves!

The back features a needle-tatted button loop and this darling green button. Dern thread kept twisting up on me while I was making the loop. I forgot to pick up some DMC, so shame on me. Had to use the all-purpose sewing thread for the loop.

Next--matching dress for Bitty Baby, who is sporting a small collection of handmade diapers now.

Out of print, but not out of circulation!

2009-03-31T11:53:00.002-06:00

My publisher has closed its doors. I'm sorry to say that on top of the rest of life, that news was just too much for me--the discouragement was of epic proportions.

So you can't buy my book right now. I'm looking into ways to put it up for sale myself, but for now, disregard my banner.

So my book is out of print. I'm not!!!

New books in progress and lots of good stuff in "real" life--as if I have one!

Watch for a post on voice in the upcoming days.

For now, I think this excerpt from Dalmatians shows my voice perfectly.

EXCERPT:

A breeze lifted Hayden’s hair as he tossed the Frisbee to Ricky again. The dog caught it with ease, despite the fact that they hadn’t played for the past few weeks due to Hayden’s business trips. Board rooms and dinner meetings couldn’t compare to Saturday afternoon at the park, the sun warm on the back of his neck. He’d left his shoes beneath a nearby tree while he enjoyed the cool crush of the bright spring grass beneath his bare feet.

Ricky brought him the plastic disc and dropped it before standing on his hind legs and slapping his paws on his owner’s chest. Hayden put his arms around the dog and petted him vigorously, eliciting a sharp bark and a kiss from Ricky. Laughing, Hayden tumbled the Dalmatian to the ground and wrestled him until he collapsed. The dog flopped down next to him and treated his owner to a wide smile, sporting a mouthful of teeth and wagging his tail ferociously. The first time he’d seen a Dal smile, Hayden was put off by the bared teeth. But the breeder had explained it was a show of affection and how to tell whether the dog was angry or happy. Ricky was definitely happy today.

Hayden hadn’t seen that smile very often since leaving Callie’s.

He covered his eyes with his bare forearm and inhaled deeply of the smell of sun and spring grass. Gradually the tension he’d been harboring for an entire month ebbed. His latest deal had been grueling, and all the while he worked on it, he’d battled his anticipation of a reunion with Callie. He hadn’t expected the wedding to be so peaceful, he thought, twisting up the corners of his mouth.

Ricky flopped his head and front paws onto Hayden’s chest, and the man and his dog lay still on the ground. Ricky’s muffled snuffing and throaty grunts punctuated the sound of other people enjoying the weather and the park environs. When he really concentrated, Hayden could tune all of it out, even the Dal’s grumbling and wiggling against his rib cage, and just listen to the music of the birds overhead in the old-growth trees.

Grace Tyler: Why I love animals

2008-08-27T08:37:00.008-06:00

This is a list of animal facts that pertain to me--so if you want to enter the contest I'm running at Manic Readers, this is the place! If you read this any time before midnight 8/31, you can enter even if you don't play at Manic Readers. Pick two of my facts and email them to me at GraceTylerAuthor@aol.com. The lucky winner will get a free copy of HIS AND HERS DALMATIANS. Cool, huh?

For a second chance to win, look through my blog or my website and find the names of my two Dalmatians in the novella and include that on your email.

1. I attribute my love of animals to my parents bringing me up surrounded by animals. Mom had a gorgeous silver tiger cat named Scrapper for years. When I was very young, Dad raised rabbits--don't ask what he did with them if you're a rabbit lover--so I learned what it was like to breed and raise them. When I was in high school, Dad found an abandoned baby rabbit in a nest in the fields at work. He brought the little thing home, and I kept her and raised her. Mom took me to the pet store to get cat formula to feed her out of a bottle. We kept her in a laundry basket in my room until she got too wild, and then we had to set her free. That was quite a lesson in love and sacrifice. Wild animals aren't pets, but each life is precious. *I also remember the rabbit running around my room loose and leaving rabbit pellets in her wake after chewing her way free of the basket. Yep, my mom's a saint when it comes to letting us experience things for ourselves.*

2. Mom wanted to be a vet. Unfortunately, she's allergic to a lot of animals, so that didn't happen. Her sister is a zoologist, so the love runs in the family. Because Mom is a scientist at heart and an open lover of pets, she let my youngest brother do the craziest things. I remember getting out of the shower once and screaming because there was a huge praying mantis on the wall. Once the surprise faded, however, it was no biggie. Because Richard had bugs all over the house. Mantis were his favorite (and mine) and he used to keep them in potted plants in the house.

3. Richard got to have lizards too. He brought one home from a trip to the desert once, and that started it. We had crickets and other bugs to feed to them. Once while he was gone on a scout trip, I had to feed the lizards. It sounded simple enough, but those little bugs didn't want to go into the lizard enclosure! And to tell the truth, they kind of squeamed me out anyhow. I was good with the lizards and the mantis, but those little creepy bugs were not cool. It became a team effort with other sibs and mom helping me. Some of the bugs escaped, but we managed to keep his lizards alive until he got home.

4. We had lots of cats when I was in my early twenties. My cat Bandit was a prissy thing, and she was very possessive. I tried taking her with me to school, but she wouldn't let me sleep because she was so lonely during the day. She would sit by me and nibble my nose if I didn't respond to her mewing. I had to take her home in the end and let her be with her sisters.

5. Bandit's possessiveness manifested itself in spades when DH entered my life. While we were out on our first official date, she went around the house and knocked all the plants over, much to Mom's dismay. And when we were putting our wedding announcements together and left them unattended on the dining room table, she got up there and "marked" them! Like she knew what they were! That little wretch was the light of my life for years.

6. After we got married, we "inherited" several pets. The first was a cockatiel named Piper. He was just Bandit in a bird suit--prissy and mean as heck to me rather than the way Bandit was mean to DH. He was elderly when we got him, and he managed to stick around for eight more years to the ripe old age of 20. His last years, we had to keep him covered a lot or he would shriek. How an animal with a brain the size of a pea can have such a big personality is beyond me!

7. My mom's sister is a zoologist. Her main study has been zebra finches. She used to go to Australia and watch them in the outback every summer until she had a son. She put little hats on some of the males to see if they became more attractive to the females during breeding season. Guess what? The ones with beads or ribbons got more female attention. Finches like bling too!

8. We bought an aquarium, fish, and a little fiddler crab after we got married. One day we noticed the crab was missing. He simply was not in the tank! Another day, he was back. What's up with that? How does a crab disappear and reappear? This happened a couple more times before DH caught him going up the cord to the aquarium filter and back into the tank. Talk about a little brain doing big things! He'd been getting out, going for a stroll, then hiding back in the tank when he needed water.

9. My dachshund, Frank, was a cat at heart. He used to climb to the top of everything, including people, so that he could get a good visual. He would sit on the back of the couch and look over my shoulder. He also liked to dig up EVERYTHING--including every one of the $500 worth of bulbs I planted at our first home.

10. My current dogs are Britta, an English setter, and Sissy, a yellow lab mix. Sissy is actually my niece's dog, but we've had her for 4 years now. DH bought Britta 2 days before I had my eldest child. I told him, "That's YOUR baby. Mine's going to be here any day now." Our old lady is almost 13 now, and I'm dreading the day she crosses the Rainbow Bridge to be with Frank. After he died, she nearly starved herself to death until Sissy came to live with us. She's an absolute sweetie.

What I've Learned

2008-08-18T21:43:00.002-06:00

After going through three major family events in the past month, I took a step back to consider what I've learned. My sister's baby was premature. He's doing great now but we had some scary times. My grandmother died after a long time being trapped in an immobile prison--her body. She had Parkinson's and I don't know what all, but couldn't move or talk for so long. And then my little nephew had to come and go in the blink of an eye, due to a constellation of birth defects that would prevent him from surviving.

So what came of all this? Of course losing loved ones makes you appreciate your family and friends more and prompts that feeling of reconnecting. But that doesn't necessarily last, and it's more of a reaction than a lesson. No, the lessons here for me are humbling and deeper than a knee-jerk reaction.

I'm a very spiritual person and very family-oriented. Or at least I thought I was. I discovered that while the family is the center of my life, I've gotten very accustomed to living in my own head in the midst of the family--not really connected. Lesson #1, Be present in the moment.

This is a hard one to keep up on a consistent basis, but I've resolved to make the effort. What are my kids' memories going to be of their mom? A lady who loves her computer. Because that's "who" I spend most of my time with. Not anymore. Writing and working and keeping in touch with my cyberfriends are important, but my kids need ME.

Lesson #2, Time equals attachment. Who am I most attached to in the world right now? My 2 almost 3yo. Why? Because I spend the most time with her, especially one on one time. I have three children and a husband and a lot of extended family. I know that the circumstances were exceptional during the last month so I'm beating myself up for this, but during the last family visits I was in my room or on the couch while others were spending time together. I did have a rotten headache for that week, so I'll let myself off the hook. But I'm resolving to change this as well.

Lesson #3, Service equals attachment. We had my brother's children spend the night a couple of days after the little one's funeral. Taking care of them that night and comforting their crying 2yo in the middle of the night gave me a new connection with them, and that is so precious.

I felt like an ungrateful wretch for a bit, but I'm not one to beat myself up at this point in my life. I'd rather take the lesson and live better.

Precious little angel

2008-08-13T21:46:00.002-06:00

My brother's little baby Joshua came and went back to heaven today. He's just beautiful.

Kissed any frogs lately?

2008-07-10T17:04:00.004-06:00

DH took pictures for a local jewelry designer, and she paid him with this lovely bracelet. I'm wearing it, not DH! She made a matching one for my little girl. Genuine, hand-crafted copper and a darling little frog bead in the center.

EDIT: I should clarify this is NOT one of DH's professional pix, but one I snapped with my phone camera at a stop light.

A great read!

2008-06-25T21:07:00.007-06:00

I loved this short novella so much, I have to share!

Author Bronwyn Storm held an online contest for a free copy of her novella, The Genie's Curse, released through The Wild Rose Press. I won! It's only fifty pages long, and a blast to read.

This 55-page novella is a delight to the funny bone. How great is a light-hearted paranormal comedy where the heroine spends more than half the story trapped in a dog's body? Every word is as delicious as the cream cheese frosted cinnamon buns the hero withholds from Abby when she's Princess, the Irish Setter. A story for every romance lover.

Seriously, I pretty much laughed from the first page until page 50, when things took a turn for the serious and the relationship resolution got underway.

Me reviewing a book on my blog is a new thing. We'll see if it continues. I'm thinking of starting a dog romance club, and if that works out, I will be having guest blogs from dog/cat romance writers.

Kudos, Bron! You're the real thing. This story is a delight!

2008-06-18T16:21:00.003-06:00

Big news! My paperback is now available directly through Amazon!

What a flattering review!

2008-06-10T18:03:00.002-06:00

Fellow dog lover, Diana, had this to say about my Dals:

[A] very endearing story that will have you rooting and hoping for a happy outcome for Callie, Hayden and their dogs.

Thank you, Diana!

To read the full review, please visit my friends at Night Owl Romance.

News and Life

2008-06-10T10:00:00.002-06:00

Why does life have to get in the way so much of the time?

I live in Utah, and our housing market has been far more stable than the rest of the country's. But in the past few weeks, it's been in free fall here as well, probably in response to the elections and the surge in gas prices. Factor in the ARM adjustments and so many homeowners who can't afford their payments, and the recipe for disaster has been written.

We've had our home for sale for a few months, as we are housesitting for my parents while they are working out of state for a couple of years. To find out its value has plunged $40K in 6-8 weeks? Well, we took it off the market. We are now planning a bit of a facelift and to rent it for about 2 years while we are still here in the parents' house. If the market picks back up, we can sell it and look for something else. If it doesn't, we can move back in when my parents come back.

Because of this and the problems I have had with my health, I decided to pull Checklist from By Grace's release schedule. My publisher was ever so kind and understanding, and I believe I've made the right choice. I'm excited to get back to rewrites on it, which are well underway.

Day 2: Cindy K Green on Chicklit and Mr Right

2008-06-05T12:58:00.006-06:00

The Chicklit Genre & Meeting Mr. Right Online

My new release, Meeting Mr. Right Online, has been labeled Chicklit. That might pique some interest in some of you, others might wrinkle their noses, and the rest are probably wondering what exactly is Chicklit.

Chick-lit is primarily about young women in their 20’s or 30’s dealing with life (some newer titles include older women as well). It contains a light, humorous and most importantly a confiding tone (like you’re speaking to your girlfriends)—almost always in the first person. The themes focus around love, relationships, friendships, professional dilemmas, and a penchant for fashion—usually facing hilarious and embarrassing situations. But what it all comes down to is the heroine figuring out herself and what she really wants out of life. There is usually some kind of epiphany that blows her mind away and finally she can see clearly about what she really wants—or more importantly—needs.

Chicklit is a completely different genre from romance because the focus is on the woman and how she navigates her way through the twists and turns life throws at her. But the romantic angle is usually at the forefront of the story. Another things about chicklit is that it does not always end in a happily ever after for the heroine and her love interest. Now I am an HEA girl all the way, so never fear, mine is very romantic and sweet and ends with an HEA.

Meeting Mr. Right Online
By Cindy K. Green
Sweet/Chicklit Novella
By Grace Publishing

$1.49 Download

Blurb:

What’s a girl to do when she’s thirty-three and all her friends have started their lives and left her behind?

Lucinda Kelley works for a local cable television show, assists her sister in her tumultuous relationships, and yearns for the day she can meet Mr. Right. All that seems to change when she meets Londoner Julian Crawford in an on-line tv chat room. Eight months later, via email he has become her best friend and closest confidant. Then one day the messages cease, and Lucinda feels lost until she makes a vow to end this infatuation with someone she has never met and move on to something real. When an alarming revelation is exposed, it could be Lucinda’s undoing or it might be exactly what she was looking for.

Back to the Cave

2008-06-05T05:56:00.003-06:00

Except for posting more of Cindy's visit later today! I am officially back in the writing cave and won't be around much. Try not to miss me, and I'll see you (hopefully) soon.

*Slips on worn, fingerless woolen gloves and sharpens penknife against the stone hearth using spit as lubricant. Breaks a leg off one of the broken chairs in the corner of the cramped, dirty office and tosses it into the fireplace, where the fire is barely hanging on. Creakily rises from the floor, dragging tattered black skirt through the filth on the floor to resume seat at the scarred desk and reaches for a quiver of quills. Sharpening these will be the last procrastination until the ms is ready for final presentation for publication. And maybe a trip to the stationery to pick up some more India ink and paper.*

Guest blogger: Cindy K. Green -- MEETING MR RIGHT ONLINE

2008-06-04T18:06:00.008-06:00

Please welcome my friend and fellow By Grace Publishing / Moonlit Romance author, Cindy K. Green! *waving wildly* Welcome to the writing world here on Dalmatian Island.

Cindy is a multi published author with By Grace Publishing and The Wild Rose Press, and she is also a real sweetheart! I am pleased to have her as a guest blogger this week.

Her new By Grace release, MEETING MR RIGHT ONLINE,
came out on May 31! Please visit Cindy's website at http://www.cindykgreen.com for a complete listing of her books, excerpts, and buylinks.

Watch the book trailer for MEETING MR RIGHT ONLINE.

Cindy K. Green was born in California but now resides in North Carolina with her husband and two young sons. Growing up, she loved reading and writing, but her heart always lay in teaching. After graduating from college with a degree in history, Cindy taught Jr. High for four years in just about every subject. After the birth of her second child, she was able to stay home and focus on her writing as well as homeschool her children. In her spare time, she loves reading, photography, scrapbooking, Period Dramas, and spending time with family. Cindy writes Inspirational, Contemporary, Suspense, Young Adult, Fantasy and Historical.

Tomorrow's feature: Cindy's own special spin on Chicklit and Meeting Mr Right!

Book Review: The Long and the Short of It 4/5

2008-06-01T21:52:00.004-06:00

I hoped that readers would like my book, but it still takes me by surprise when I read my reviews and there--in writing--you like me! You really like me!

From Narcissus at The Long and the Short of It:

His and Hers Dalmatians made me believe in new beginnings all over again....watching them fall in love all over again is one of the moments where I truly believed in happily ever after not just happily for now. The dogs play a huge part, bringing the couple together and at the end, doing their best to seal the deal permanently. Ms. Tyler pens a beautiful, modern love story in which I fell in love with all the characters and even made me want a pair of Dalmatians!

To read the full review, please visit my friends at The Long and the Short of It.

Credibility

2008-05-28T06:51:00.002-06:00

What gives an author credibility? An easy answer with certain authors--They are best sellers. They have been around for years proving that they've got the goods and they can deliver them time and again. Their innovative stories capture the hearts and minds of readers around the world and may even lead to new trends in popular literature/culture. Bridget Jones comes to mind off hand, starting a new subgenre and trend in movies as well.

But what gives a brand new author credibility? Good reviews? Her publishing house? The genre she writes in? A flashy banner, terrific advertising campaign, a wonderful title? What carries the most weight with readers? What piques your interest to try a new author?

The only item on that list I have a definitive answer for it the final question--why try a new author? In my opinion, it's the story. If the story sounds interesting, I'll pick up the book. After that, it's in the execution. Did the book live up to my expectations? Was the story told well? Was it exactly like every other story out there, or did small details make this book memorable and capture my imagination?

What does NOT give an author credibility?
1. Education. You can stuff a lot of knowledge in your head, but that doesn't mean a well-told tale will flow out of your fingers.
2. Practice. "I've been writing for years, and this is my first book." Why did it take you so long to put one out if you've been writing for years? Hey, those of us trying to get published know the answer to this, but that doesn't mean readers do. Just practicing a lot doesn't give you credibility, either. Lots of experience or minimal experience doesn't matter. Only the book in the customer's hand matters.
3. Love of reading, love of the genre, love of language. Nope. Not going to win you customers either. But it might help your writing! In my case, I believe those elements help my writing.

So you love reading! I love music, but I'm not writing any symphonies, you know?

Am I suggesting that Education, Practice, and an Appreciation for the written word are useless in becoming an author? Certainly not. I'm only saying these do not add to one's credibility with potential readers.

What gives YOU a reason to try a new author? What are you looking for?

Book Review : Coffee Time Romance

2008-05-05T09:29:00.004-06:00

A four cups review by Maura:

This is a good contemporary romance...a wonderful tale of two people reconnecting. Callie and Hayden’s second chance at love is a nice love story with all of the ups and downs necessary and the Dalmatians Lucy and Ricky are a wonderful touch.

For the full review, please visit my friends at Coffee Time Romance.

A frustrating puzzlement

2008-05-02T22:47:00.002-06:00

I started a new work in progress a couple of weeks ago. My original idea was to write something simple and cute, less than 10K, as a giveaway for promotions. However, as is my tendency when I write, it quickly escalated into a full blown novella at least, and that's just too long to give away, especially when one only has one publication under her belt.

The frustration? As I reread my published novella the other day, it occurred to me that the new WIP had some striking similarities. Apparently the same hero with a different name stars in all my stories. Maybe the same heroine too, I don't know. The hero twists a ring around his finger in both WIPs. He has crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He thinks the exact same thought at one point. Dang, that one upset me. I deleted it in the new WIP and gave him something else to think about. Highlighted the duplicated ring twisting and will fix in new WIP when I come up with some other business for him to do.

Picked up the next WIP due at the end of June, the one I haven't touched in months, and what do you know? Even though this hero is only 25, HE has crinkled eye corners too. Blast and dagnabit. How do you keep that from happening after you write so many books/stories? Apparently I have some favorite features in men.

This bit of frustration led to the obvious conclusion--I'm a hack. All my stories are the same. Nothing happens in any of them. People eat and talk and go the bathroom with their girl friends. I.e., the group bathroom visit. All my characters are the same, and the women are all neurotic messes--like me.

Horrible dream

2008-04-30T06:53:00.002-06:00

I had the strangest dream last night. Ordinarily, I would put such a dream aside and move on, but this one really shook me.

I had Dizzy in daycare. Not only that, but I was in such dire straits that a neighbor had told me she'd take Dizzy and FIND her daycare and drop her off. I handed my precious child over and glibly went off to work. Around 3 pm, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have a clue where my baby was or who was watching her, and I flew out of work on a quest to locate and rescue Dizzy.

The dream seemed to go on forever, and my little one wasn't even in danger. It was that sense of not having control over the care of my little one that was the nightmare. The priorities that we are forced to make as moms.

And that's why Dizzy's not in daycare and I work at home and endure godawful hours and lack of sleep and live in a Coma. I'm not sure she's better off babysitting me while I sleep, but I'm a lot happier this way.

My biggest regret as a parent is that my 12yo had to be in daycare, sometimes in horrid situations while I looked for other arrangements.

Only a parent would understand this nightmare!

And now on to a day of kid and elder care, and maybe a little typing? Please, oh writing gods?

The Coma, Part Infinity

2008-04-29T12:38:00.004-06:00

This is what I don't miss about working--the Groundhog Day effect.

DH tried to shove me out of bed for the 3:30 am shift about 4 times, and I didn't make it until 4:50. Which means now that Dizzy (2.5 yo girl) is napping, I don't get to write. I get to go finish my work hours. Because if I don't do it now, I'll have to do it after school, and then my son will act like the world is coming to an end.

The Coma--Dropped the kids off at school. Came home and let myself rest on the bed. Just resting my eyes, as my dad would say. Resting them but good. Two hours later, I am conscious enough to change Dizzy's pants, but she is intent on retaining the contents of her smelly diaper, and I haven't the energy to argue. An hour later, I win, and she insists on disposing it herself. This is a weird thing I don't understand, but it keeps the peace.

Now she's asleep, and I'm finally awake. I shall emerge from the bedroom (my hibernation Den) and see what mischief she got into while I was sleeping. Besides putting on my makeup for about an hour. The poisons are out of reach, so I trust it's not too bad out there in the rest of the house.

And into the office with a box of crackers and time to work my little typing fingers to the bone. I'd rather be working my fingers to the bone on a book, but it's time to get back to reality.

I've already had my useless caffeine dose for the day. Didn't do a dammmmm bit of good.

EDIT: Plumber showed up the minute I sat down to work. So much for good intentions. Still have an hour or two of work ahead of me.

I have awesome friends

2008-04-28T19:34:00.002-06:00

My paperback copies of my book came today. And instead of the buzz I expected, the Christmas morning excitement, I felt the way you do the week after Christmas. The letdown. The energy drain. I held the book in my hands and thought, "All that work for this?"

But my friends are kicking my @zz and not letting me stay in the dumps. I thank each and every one of you. Please forgive me for my imperfect attempt at writing and enjoy the story.

Character Sketch and Excerpt: Callie

2008-04-28T12:38:00.002-06:00

Callie is named after the character on CSI Miami played by Emily Procter.

She's a sculptor and pottery artist, and now she's trying her hand at running an art gallery with her friend, Rita, who put up a chunk of the money to get it started. Rita is something of a cougar (older woman on the prowl sexually, if I understand right) and she has ADHD, so once the gallery opens, she is off to the next thing--in this case, she wants to do a New York art gallery show with the artists in the gallery she and Callie run. They are also working on recruiting other artists in their area to showcase.

Rita totally stresses Callie out, and now that our hero (her ex) wants to hook back up with her, Callie is really on the edge.

EXCERPT:

“So how was the ex?”

Callie dumped the sweetbread onto the table and tore a piece off. “Surprisingly okay,” she admitted, unsure whether she wanted to tell her friend about inviting him over on Saturday evening. After being divorced three times, Rita would not approve of Callie conceding anything to Hayden, not even for the sake of the dogs.

“Really?” Rita slurped at her coffee and dribbled a bit down her chin. She swore and dabbed at her face with a paper napkin just before the beverage dripped onto her pristine white silk blouse.

“Really.” Nibbling at the bread, Callie reflected on the weekend. “I thought we were going to have a grand fight during the dinner on Friday, but it didn’t work out.”

“What? With all of your ammo, you couldn’t think of a single way to start a fight with that dirty dog?”

She almost laughed at her friend’s choice of words. “Hayden’s really not that bad.”

Rita’s fastidious blonde eyebrows shot up her forehead. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“Good heavens, no.” She’d considered it, though.

“Yes, you did. You’re face is on fire with guilt. Spill the details!”

“You got me,” Callie said, putting down her cup. “After our reunion at the pub, we took off for Mesquite and spent the weekend humping like rabbits.”

“No you didn’t.” Rita crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “I would have gone away for a weekend of meaningless sex, but you’d never abandon Janie like that.”

They had known each other casually since before Callie graduated from the university. One of her student friends had been dating Rita, an interior designer several years older than the art students. They’d met in between husbands number two and three. Over the years, they had traveled in the same artistic circles and bumped into each other frequently. After Callie’s divorce, the idea of starting a gallery together had just clicked the way that Hayden had described the previous evening—things had just come together. Their doors had been open almost a year now.

Rita’s bare legs shifted beneath the hem of her slim red skirt, and she kicked one red stiletto back and forth while she sipped her latte. “You haven’t asked me how New York went.”

“Aren’t you exhausted? That was a quick trip.” After flying to New York and back in three days, Callie had thought her friend would be home in bed today.

“I’m always running on pure adrenaline, sweetie. You know that. Besides,” she leaned forward to whisper, “sex always gives me energy.”

Shaking her head, Callie started laughing. “Did you really fly out there for work, or did you just need to scratch that itch?”

“I worked.” Rita’s green eyes sparkled, hinting at the mischief she was always into. “Then I played.”

“So? What did they say?”

“It’s still a go. We have to put the show together and audition some pieces from the other artists. Once they are accepted, we’ll make the final arrangements. You know what clinched it, don’t you?”

She frowned. “Jody’s series of Apache sculptures?”

“I didn’t show them the Southwestern slides while I was there. Our agent is going to show the new pictures to the gallery owner next week.”

Callie made the connection. Rita hadn’t met with the people from the gallery. She’d only seen their agent. “You slept with Alan!” Taking in air became difficult. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” Clutching the arm of the chair, she concentrated on deep breathing. Rita’s track record with men wasn’t exactly stellar. What would happen when she broke up with their New York agent? Having the future of the show tied up in her partner’s romance twisted Callie’s stomach.

“Relax. We’re just friends with benefits. No nasty relationship tangles to botch the deal. We simply had a fantastic weekend together.”

“I hope you paid for the tickets yourself,” Callie grumbled. “You’re going to have a hard time convincing the IRS that was a business trip.”

“Not at all, darling.” Rita’s self-satisfied smile put Callie’s nerves over the edge. “Once the show comes together, no one will question it.”

“Next time your boy toy can fly out here,” Callie said. The pressure of the show was killing her. She wanted to stick to running their gallery, making back their investment, and building up the local artist community. Rita was the one with dreams of grandeur. She wasn’t happy without a big project to manage. Once The Artist’s Corner got up and running, she’d quickly grown bored and moved on to her next endeavor.

Callie didn’t care as long as their gallery didn’t suffer. The average small business went bust within five years, and she didn’t intend to be another statistic.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Rita stood behind the cream leather couch in the conversation area caressing the leather like a lover.

“I don’t want to hear about your weekend with Alan.” She was going to hurl.

“Not that, silly. The show. The knockout punch.”

Shrugging, Callie said, “Sure, I’ll bite. What did you show him this time that he hadn’t seen before? Besides your personal assets, I mean.”

“Your paintings.”

Tomorrow morning Callie would call her doctor’s office and get her blood pressure checked. She waited for the roaring in her ears to die down before she spoke. “My paintings are terrible.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “What on earth did you show them?”

Alan’s taste in art must be as bad as his taste in women if he liked her work. She’d given up painting her first semester in school and turned her attention to clay. Some of her paintings were still in the gallery’s storage locker, but she’d tossed the rest out when they moved into the building.

“The post-divorce series.”

Groaning, Callie sandwiched her head between her hands. “You showed those wretched things to actual human beings?” She should have thrown them away but she hadn’t gotten enough emotional distance yet, so into the storage locker they went.

Apparently she should have made sure she had the only key before she’d put her work in there.

“Technically I only showed them to one human being.”

Character Sketch and Excerpt: Hayden

2008-04-28T12:33:00.005-06:00

Hayden is named after the character Hayden Fox from the TV series "Coach" played by Craig T. Nelson.

Creation is an incomplete process, in that I could tinker with my project endlessly. I wrote HIS AND HERS DALMATIANS in a short format, so there wasn't occasion or room in some cases to include all of the backstory of each character. There is also the newbie factor--did I make a strong enough case to convince the reader about the character's behavior, or should I have sprinkled in a bit more background? I think I shortchanged Hayden, but once you turn in your book and it's released, edits have to stop. Thankfully! Whew.

EDIT: My editor told me that I hit just the right balance of backstory for the format, so I should quit stressing. Yes, ma'am, Ms. Cathy! I bow to your expertise!

Hayden comes from old money. He's a trust fund baby trying to make a name for himself and step out of the shadow of his deceased father. This explains his easy use of the conveniences his money can buy as well as his overcommitment to his business during the first years of his marriage. Hayden loves fiercely, and he enjoys taking care of the people and animals in his life. In his view, money makes a good vehicle for service. Callie, on the other hand, wouldn't think his service counted unless he used his own hands to render it. They are learning to meet in the middle on this issue, as well as other issues.

He shares Callie’s passion for art, and is awed by her talent and proud of her achievements. Nature inspires him as well. He is more removed from the challenges facing our planet, but he enjoys outdoor recreation. And of course, he loves both of the dogs. He enjoys their companionship and their individuality, for Ricky and Lucy are unique and special in their own ways. The reunion of this family is meant to be, and I hope you will participate in their quest for happiness by reading this special story.

EXCERPT:

A breeze lifted Hayden’s hair as he tossed the Frisbee to Ricky again. The dog caught it with ease, despite the fact that they hadn’t played for the past few weeks due to Hayden’s business trips. Board rooms and dinner meetings couldn’t compare to Saturday afternoon at the park, the sun warm on the back of his neck. He’d left his shoes beneath a nearby tree while he enjoyed the cool crush of the bright spring grass beneath his bare feet.

Ricky brought him the plastic disc and dropped it before standing on his hind legs and slapping his paws on his owner’s chest. Hayden put his arms around the dog and petted him vigorously, eliciting a sharp bark and a kiss from Ricky. Laughing, Hayden tumbled the Dalmatian to the ground and wrestled him until he collapsed. The dog flopped down next to him and treated his owner to a wide smile, sporting a mouthful of teeth and wagging his tail ferociously. The first time he’d seen a Dal smile, Hayden was put off by the bared teeth. But the breeder had explained it was a show of affection and how to tell whether the dog was angry or happy. Ricky was definitely happy today.

Hayden hadn’t seen that smile very often since leaving Callie’s.

He covered his eyes with his bare forearm and inhaled deeply of the smell of sun and spring grass. Gradually the tension he’d been harboring for an entire month ebbed. His latest deal had been grueling, and all the while he worked on it, he’d battled his anticipation of a reunion with Callie. He hadn’t expected the wedding to be so peaceful, he thought, twisting up the corners of his mouth.

Ricky flopped his head and front paws onto Hayden’s chest, and the man and his dog lay still on the ground. Ricky’s muffled snuffing and throaty grunts punctuated the sound of other people enjoying the weather and the park environs. When he really concentrated, Hayden could tune all of it out, even the Dal’s grumbling and wiggling against his rib cage, and just listen to the music of the birds overhead in the old-growth trees.

Book Review

2008-04-26T22:04:00.002-06:00

Courtesy of Romance Junkies' reviewer, Scarlet:

Witnessing these two proud characters struggle to overcome pride and misconception is a lesson in forgiveness that is unmistakable. Grace Tyler’s love for dogs come through loud and clear as we watch Lucy and Ricky get to know one another and their respective humans all over again. HIS AND HERS DALMATIANS is a breezy love story I am glad I indulged in.

For the full review, please visit my friends at Romance Junkies!

Behind the Scenes--The birth of a book

2008-04-22T21:14:00.006-06:00

I love reunion stories, because they demonstrate the difficulties of making a relationship work over the long haul. The words, “And they lived happily ever after,” don’t really demonstrate what happens after a couple walks down the aisle, as anyone in a long term relationship can verify.

From here, I borrowed an idea from the movie “The Parent Trap,” but instead of splitting up twins, I’ve split up the couple’s Dalmatians. The movie focuses mostly on the children’s reunion, but I’ve focused on the divorced couple’s reunion, which is forced on them by the need to attend the wedding of mutual friends.

Questions I wanted to explore were why do couples break up when they really love each other? How can I make my hero and heroine have significant enough differences to necessitate a divorce and yet have enough commonalities and a strong enough love to bring them back together in the end?

Dalmatian pups
(c) 2004 M. Deer

Why Dalmatians, as opposed to any other breed of dogs? First and foremost, they are beautiful dogs with elegant markings and regal bearing. And they do not make good pets for many people, because they require a lot of exercise and interaction. Hayden discovers this after he begins the single life. Our hero is a high powered business man and travels a lot. Consequently, he has to hire a live in caretaker for his dog. Hey, he’s got the bucks.

Dals are beloved by the aficionados of the breed, and have many fun characteristics. They are highly intelligent, athletic, and tend to be mischievious. They also display what is known as a “grin.” In the pictures I saw of it, it looks like the dog is growling the way the teeth are displayed. But Dals actually smile when they are happy or excited, and the way to tell the difference when you are inexperienced with the breed or the individual dog is to watch his tail. If his tail is wagging and his teeth are bared, he’s smiling at you.

A Dalmatian smile
(C) 2000 Judith Barneveld

Pictures courtesy of http://hattrick-dals.home.att.net/DalInfo.html

Ah! Sweet Release

2008-04-22T08:26:00.006-06:00

At last! His and Hers Dalmatians is available for sale at Moonlit Romance. I've ordered my copies and can't wait for them to arrive.

Here's the blurb and an excerpt:

Callie and Hayden James have nothing in common, other than their last names and a pair of Dalmatians. Their relationship was just as volatile after their divorce, so they split up the dogs to maintain the peace. After two years apart, attending the wedding of mutual friends forces Callie and Hayden to see each other again. Can this event lead to a truce and sharing custody of the dogs?

_____________________________________________________

Excerpt #1
Hayden’s ex-wife reappeared at the head of the table and stopped. Callie looked directly at him, and he smiled at her, wondering what was going on in that complex mind of hers. She glared at him before returning to her spot at the table to perch on the edge of her seat. The animosity he’d expected had returned in full force. And it was directed at him.

“What did I do?” he asked her in a low voice.

“Nothing,” she answered, but the color on her cheeks and the grim set of her mouth said otherwise. Anger radiated from her, singeing his skin with its intensity.

Leaning back in his chair, Hayden adjusted the knot of his tie. This was familiar territory. The last year of their marriage had consisted of daily exchanges like this. When he had realized he would be seeing her this weekend, Hayden had almost looked forward to fighting with her.

Her hostile silence slashed through his composure, and the conversations surrounding him became background noise as Hayden’s body tuned in to Callie’s. She hated him. Still.

The depth of her emotion ignited his own passions, and the years of their separation fell away. She was the same woman, his Callie, no matter how her appearance had changed. And he still wanted her.

After retrieving her beaded bag from the table, Callie stood and announced that she had to leave. Her mumbled excuses were met with regret from the members of the wedding party, while the bride stood and kissed her on the cheek before she made an abrupt exit.

After a moment of indecision, Hayden followed Callie out the rear door of The Black Horse. “Callie, wait!” A couple of cars crept through the alley behind the Salt Lake City pub, and he dashed between them to catch up with her at the edge of the parking lot.

She spun around to face him, taller than he’d remembered in her spindly black heels. “Hayden, I don’t feel like fighting.” Maybe not, but her face was still flushed, and electricity surged between them.

“Neither do I,” he said, catching her bare arm in a light grasp. Before their divorce, a moment like this might have erupted into a fight, complete with raised voices and maybe a few tossed plates. If Callie turned to the dramatic to make her point, which had been her usual habit.

Now he felt perfectly calm, as though he stood in the eye of the storm while chaos swirled around him. This moment was inevitable.

“What do you want?” She looked vulnerable, the line of her mouth soft, her eyes dewy and dark.

“I don’t know,” was his honest response.

Her smooth, rose-scented skin taunted him. He rubbed his fingertips back and forth over her arm, tempting himself with memories of long, hot, summer evenings pressed against her in the backyard hammock.

How had everything turned to sh*t after that first year?

“Let me go,” she whispered.

________________________________

Excerpt #2
Callie rechecked the brooch securing her gauzy, iridescent peach-colored shawl over her bare shoulders. It didn’t provide much warmth, but it hid her skin somewhat. She shifted her seat on the cold, stone steps leading to the front door of the church where the wedding was to take place. At any moment. All that was missing was the best man. She had been stationed on the porch to wait for him.

Fortunately the air was much warmer than her impromptu chair. May had arrived, but it was too early in the morning for the late spring sun to have warmed up the terraced entrance to the church.

A limousine pulled to the curb in front of Callie. Probably the car for the bride and groom, she surmised.

The rear door opened, and Hayden stepped out. His tuxedo was immaculate, sharp, and showcased his bold cheekbones and dark blue eyes. She wished he’d gotten ugly over the past two years, but if anything, he looked better than ever as he approached his fortieth birthday.

You’re just suffering from the deprivation of male company. Don’t forget, he’s a superficial, womanizing jerk. Not your type at all.

Someone had forgotten to tell her body that he wasn’t her type. She shivered, a bone deep tremor that started at the base of her spine. As she watched him ascend the stairs with fluid ease, the shiver turned to heat, and she burned with memories of his hands on her skin, his lips on the nape of her neck. He’d always said he loved for her to put her hair up, because he could set her on fire with the slightest attention to the back of her neck.

The day she’d cut her hair, she’d felt freed from its weight and the weight of her past. Now she felt exposed and vulnerable.

“Waiting for me?” Hayden reached down, presumably to help her get up from the stairs.

“Somebody had to. Janie’s mom wouldn’t relax until I volunteered to come find you,” she said, accepting his hand against her will. Her already heightened senses leapt higher as she caught the scent of his musky aftershave. Suddenly her backside and thighs weren’t so cold. “Trust you to make the dramatic entrance.”

He grunted in response, tugging her toward the church’s double doors. They creaked slightly as they entered the building, and organ music greeted the pair. “I’d better go into the chapel,” he said. “You go do whatever the girls do.” He dropped her hand and disappeared into the sanctuary.

Who did he think he was anyway, some kind of rock star? Who came to a wedding in a limo? He kept the entire party waiting, and then he arrived in a hired car to make the grand entrance. That was Hayden for you, she fumed, caring more about impressions and appearances than people.

“Callie!” Janie’s younger sister poked her head out of one of the meeting rooms down the hall. “Come on! It’s time for the processional.”

_____________________________________

Excerpt #3
“Don’t worry about calling your shots,” Hayden said, stepping back.

“All right.” Callie bent over the pool table, holding her cue awkwardly under her left arm. “Help me?”

He groaned mentally. Standing behind her to guide her shot fit in perfectly with his mid-dinner plot of getting her to stay the night. It wasn’t so perfect for his post-dinner resolution of chivalry and self preservation.

He took a step closer, daring no more. Her citrus-clean fragrance tempted him to take another step forward. “Grip the end of the stick lightly.”

“All right.” She loosened her hold on the cue and then propped the stick across the knuckles of her right hand.

“Like this.” He lifted the cue off her table hand. “The stick needs to glide lightly across your skin. This hand is just to steady the stick while you push and aim with your left hand.” He repositioned her cue so that it rested between her right index finger and thumb. “Use your other fingers for stabilization.”

“Now I remember.” She flashed him a brief smile before taking the shot. The cue ball bounced harmlessly off the bumpers. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Come on. Try again.”

Callie walked along the two free sides of the table. The other two sides were hemmed in by the corner of the room. “I’ve got a shot,” she said, taking aim from a new location. “I’m going for the thirteen. Maybe it’ll get into the pocket if I hit it just off center.”

“Remember your table hand is just a guide. The power comes from your shooting arm, so judge how hard you need to hit the ball.”

“Watch thirteen,” she said, sparing a look at him before returning her focus to the table, her short sable hair fanning against her cheek. She pushed the stick forward in practice a couple of times, and then she made her shot. Her aim was true, but she’d hit the cue ball too hard, and the thirteen ball bounced off the rim of the pocket.

“Great shot!” He meant it. She’d never played well when they were dating, but she never let her discouragement show. “You want to go again?”

“No, it’s your turn. I’ll watch and try to pick up some pointers.”

Hayden took his shot, and the cue ball smacked against the three-ball, which tumbled into the right center pocket.

“Go again,” Callie said. “No need to give me extra turns.”

“Practice is the only way to get better,” he protested, but he had lined up his next shot the moment she urged him to take another turn. “Four-ball.” He took one of the short sticks down from the rack and went to the far side of the table next to the wall. “I should have gotten a smaller table,” he lamented. “It would have been easier to play in here.”

“But it wouldn’t have been what you wanted,” she responded.

She seemed to understand him, maybe for the first time. “Right. This was what I wanted.”

Hayden’s shot was true, and number four went directly to the pocket next to Callie on the outside of the table. But it didn’t sink all the way, didn’t rumble down the ball track to the retrieval area. “What’s up with that pocket?” he asked.

She plucked the ball out of the hole. “There’s something stuck in here.” Her hand disappeared into the table, and she started laughing. “You missing something?”

Before he saw what she had found, he knew what it had to be. The unmistakable ring of keys sounded as she jiggled them in his direction. “Who keeps their keys in the pool table?”

______________________________________
Excerpt #4
Callie had forgotten two things—how much she disliked playing pool and the reason she had played it anyway during their courtship. Having Hayden standing behind her to make subtle adjustments to her position fired her hormones as much now as it had five years ago. Though he kept an appropriate distance between them, she felt his heat along the surface of her skin. She should have headed home after tea.

It was too late now. She couldn’t leave, even though she knew she courted danger by staying.

“Your posture is too stiff,” Hayden said. “Relax.”

“I’m trying.” How could she relax when she longed for the forbidden to happen, right here at the pool table?

“Maybe this will help.” His hands covered her shoulder muscles, his thumbs kneading the base of her neck in a circular motion.

She hadn’t wanted this, truly. But her body craved the familiar touch all but forgotten by her long dormant desire. “Mmmm.” Her head dropped forward to allow him greater access to the ultrasensitive skin at her nape.

His thumbs and fingers pressed into the tight muscles along the slope of her shoulders, gradually returning to her neck to rub his thumbs up and down the length of it from the base of her skull to the neckline of her sweater. Her pool cue dropped to the felt top with a dull thud, and Callie gripped the edge of the table while willing herself not to be seduced by a pair of skillful thumbs.

The pressure of his touch changed. She knew that caress, knew she was losing her internal battle not to react to it. As of its own volition, her sweater slid down her arms and she gasped when Hayden’s palms made contact with her goosebump-covered skin.

His lips were hot on her neck, and Callie’s nails dug into the felt bumper on the pool table. “Stop me, Callie,” he murmured against her skin. “Say no. Say it now.”

“I can’t,” she moaned. I can’t.

His arms circled her waist, drawing her into his heat as his mouth continued to explore the exposed skin along her collar. Enough. It was time to tell him to stop or to turn around and kiss him properly.

Her body chose the latter course, and somehow she turned inside his embrace to meet his lips with her own. Their mingled hunger shocked Callie. She clutched his shirt in her fists as he pressed her backside into the rim of the table. She pulled at him, wanting him closer, needing what she had missed every night during the past two years.

Breaking the kiss, Hayden tipped her head back with his thumb. She struggled to catch her breath, gratified to see that he was panting too. If he hadn’t been as needy as she was, Callie would have been embarrassed. Instead she experienced a surge of passion and forgotten tenderness toward the man she had once loved.

Her arms and legs twined around Hayden, and he carried her to the couch where he set her down on a mound of pillows. Their kisses grew more obsessive until Callie thought she’d go mad if they didn’t take it to the next level. She wanted him on top of her, possessing her completely.

The mountain of cushions quickly became uncomfortable, and she pulled a couple of pillows from under her back and threw them. “Help me,” she mumbled, unable to tug more of them from beneath their combined weight. Hayden lifted her up and tossed the rest of the pillows.

When she’d arrived at his front door, this was the last thing Callie had expected to happen. A bitter fight had seemed a lot more likely than shared lust, flat on her back under her ex-husband, happy as hell about it.

THE END

2008-04-10T14:08:00.005-06:00

What is it like to be an author, you may wonder?

If you are well organized and know what you are doing, it's probably NOT like my past two weeks have been. Some confusion about my release date etc and newbie confusion and just confusion in general--

I wrote nearly all of His and Hers Dalamatians in the past two weeks. Yep. It came in at 30K, and the last day of pounding the keyboard, I pulled 5K out of thin air.

This is what my friends call "The writing cave." I have not been to the writing cave before. I didn't know what it really meant, until I lived in it.

It means not bathing for a week and looking down at oneself in shock when DH says, "Don't you think you at least ought to put on a clean pair of pajamas?" In other words, YOU STINK. I'm sleeping in the guest room, thank you very much.

(Good. That means I can write in bed all night with the light on.)

It means living on Pepsi and antianxiety medication and thankfully gobbling down whatever your DH puts in front of you.

It means hoping your kids did their homework and having to set an alarm to remember to pick them up from school. This doesn't help if you can't figure out what the noise is when the alarm goes off.

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU EMERGE FROM THE WRITING CAVE

First, you wash your underwear. Next, you take a long nap.

Now that your underwear is clean, you can take a shower. You are shocked by the appearance of about two dozen zits from forgetting to wash your face. And whose breath is that? No wonder DH has moved into the guest room.

Every time you put your computer down, all three kids climb all over you, until you are jonesing bigtime for another anxiety tablet. If only they would get off you so you could find the bottle. Oh yeah. Ran out during time in writing cave.

You realize that your toddler, who will feed herself and even change her own diapers (thank heaven for Pull-Ups), has been wearing the same pajamas for the past four days. You'd change her clothes, except she doesn't have any clean. Even with her handy stool, she can't reach the washing machine. She can, however, reach the dishes and get herself a glass of milk. And a towel to clean up the spills afterward.

"Owie, owie, owie. Please don't comb my hair." You tell your little girl that if you wait another day, it will only hurt more and keep right on combing.

It's official. You are the worst mother on the planet. You are also the worst author on the planet. You know your writing stinks, no one is going to buy the book, and your publisher and editor hate you because you bypassed your deadline so dreadfully.

And that is what it is like to enter the writing cave and to come out the other side.

My parents are coming to stay next week. I am housesitting for them while they work out of state. This place is a disaster! DH is freaking out, and I haven't worked my full hours for the past two weeks. Praying that I don't get fired and that I can clean all the toilets and the carpet and refill everyone's dressers before Nana and Papa get here.

Please buy my book!

Dangit, there goes that alarm again...

Gratitude

2008-03-30T19:41:00.002-06:00

From prior posts, you probably would not know I am somewhat religious. That's going to become more apparent with my August release, The Husband Checklist, which is an inspirational romance.

With my INSANE work schedule (I work half my hours starting at 2:30 am, the rest after my kids get home from work, and I watch my toddler during the daytime), I have a new condition I like to call The Sunday Coma. What exactly is the Coma?

It's when you Cannot Wake Up, no matter how much you want to. Last week, on EASTER mind you, I couldn't drag my sorry self to church. The entire family went without me, and I could feel waves of disappointment radiating from my husband and kids. I wanted to go. I cried after they left.

This week the Coma was in full effect. But my 2.5yo daughter, screen name Dizzy, wanted to get ready, and she wasn't cooperating with the 12yo daughter and dad. Dad kept saying very loudly, "What are you wearing to church?" which is code for, "Grace, can you either get her dressed or show me where her clothes are?"

I pulled my unwilling corpse out of bed and found one of her dresses. Not that they were lost, but you would have to look in her closet or the end of her bed to see them. Not a dad thing. If I give him the supplies, he will get her ready just fine.

By the time I got Dizzy ready I wanted to go too, and Dizzy was very insistent that I attend with them this week. Desire alone, unfortunately, does not conquer fatigue.

In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror and started thinking of all the things I am grateful for on a personal basis, not the least of which is the ability to pursue my dream of being published. Let's face it, I couldn't have done that even thirty years ago without facing a lot of opposition. My husband is very supportive, and so is my extended family.

As I continued these thoughts of gratitude, silently thanking God for allowing me to live in this time and place of relative prosperity and freedom, I felt enough energy to get ready and go with my family to church. A big deal these days.

The Coma continued after services, but I made it!

Wasting time

2008-03-25T15:50:00.002-06:00

I'm on deadline. This is a big big deal, people. And today I have realized something...A web browser is like a credit card. You spend time instead of money you don't really have, and somehow you'll have to pay.

Closing down AOL and the web browser for the day to make headway on this novel and make my editor happy. The chocolate stash I'm sending should help as well.

*still giddy*

I can't resist

2008-03-17T17:28:00.011-06:00

I can't resist showing off the draft of my cover. Ohmygosh, it finally feels real!!!

Isn't this beautiful? Thanks to cover artist Mrs. H, owner and operator of my publishing co.

I am almost finished with the draft, ready to be crucified by my generous, wonderful, bribable editor. (Cathy, are you listening?)

No really, it's just that there's this 4-page flashback, and that's like the biggest no-no in the writing world.

*stares at cover again* Sigh. I am in luv.

EDIT: Proper spelling now corrected.

Da Ta Da Ta!!! It's Official !!!

2008-03-10T09:59:00.005-06:00

My first book release!

His and Hers Dalmatians

Moonlit Romance, April 2008

Why is my stomach upset???

The magic of deadlines didn't work

2008-02-14T13:00:00.003-07:00

Despite my best intentions, manuscript is not turned in. Waiting for 'someone' to send me a prodding email.

Making progress at last! *I'm invisible. Not here. Writing. Really.*

I opened my WIP

2008-01-10T07:11:00.000-07:00

I opened it long enough to do a word count and update the word meter on my blog. Will I write today? Stay tuned to find out. *deadlines, girl!*

Eat more, weigh less

2008-01-09T19:43:00.001-07:00

Those are my New Year's Resolutions.

As well as to finish a manuscript and submit it this month.

Thanks, magical deadlines.

P.S. Christmas didn't suck. It was actually kind of fun.

New focus

2007-12-18T14:35:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the magic of deadlines, I am shifting focus to HIS AND HERS DALMATIANS. Dear editor, I have words written. 838 of them, to be precise. More updates later...

Traditions

2007-11-30T07:30:00.000-07:00

Since I was a teenager, I have dreaded Christmas. And I am a person imprisoned by the past.

So in order to 1) have some positive vibes for Christmas this year (and years to come hopefully), and 2) shake off the Persistently Pesky Past, I would like to start some new traditions with my husband and kids to replace the PPP memories.

Ideas for great Christmas traditions? Cheap?

Happy Halloween

2007-11-28T19:45:00.001-07:00

Why am I wearing a Happy Halloween shirt today?

1. I am Scrooge, and this is my subtle way of protesting Christmas.
2. It was clean.
3. Orange is my favorite color.
4. I like the attention. Being out of synch is in style.
5. Dizzy (my 2yo girl) picked my clothes out.

Long past time for an update

2007-11-25T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have a job. I have "job" aplenty, though the pay isn't what I was hoping for. A challenge to work at home and still fulfill the responsibilities of wife, mother, daughter and daughter-in-law, sister, etc., and still have a moment to write.

And when I have had a moment? I've had writer's block bigtime. Just hated the two new chapters in my WIP. Sad, because I have an agent request for the ms I'm working on, and I'm highly motivated.

I think health and finances add to the stress I already have of caring for my family and fitting in the job in the white spaces. And as I have told my writer friends many a time, Stress Kills the Muse Dead.

She can't inspire, and she can't fix the lousy new chapters. No matter how I fiddle with them. It's all well and good to say "Write something, even if it's crap." But if you can't fix the crap afterward? You're in a pickle then, aren't you?

Some progress today. Boogy, baby, boogy, before that agent forgets your name!

Voodoo works again!

2007-09-11T14:39:00.000-06:00

I had foot zone therapy today. I don't know if it's totally going to clear the head thing up, but it's working!

It's kind of like reflexology, except my massage therapist will tell you that reflexology is bogus, and foot zones are the real thing. Here's what I figured--what would it hurt to try it? If it's crap, it wouldn't hurt me to get my feet rubbed.

If only it felt like a massage instead of hurting. I've been having these treatments for years. It must do something, or I wouldn't be paying for the pain.

Dog Sick

2007-09-09T22:01:00.001-06:00

And it has nothing whatsoever to do with a dog.

My almost-2yo and I have had the flu since last Sunday, a week now. I thought I was coming out of it, but the sinus cold has settled in steady, and more stomach symptoms, and the fevers and chills are at work again.

Everyone else was sick for about three days total. They all missed work/school, but are breezing along now. What's wrong with Meeeeee!?

Worst, I haven't been writing or applying for jobs. Just lying in bed.

I got a new score on my final--92. Employable. But here I am, resting and watching movies on cable. Goody.

Thanks to my friends

2007-09-06T20:16:00.001-06:00

On this journey to publication, I have met the most wonderful women--and a couple of men as well, though scarce in the romance genre. I want to say a big thanks to the two friends (you know who you are) who helped me revise my Chicklist contest entry to send for the final judging. They invested a good part of the last week helping me, and I hope it pays off.

Another thanks to the several who read the entry the first time out. We must have done something right!

How can I have waited to so long to post!?

2007-08-31T10:23:00.001-06:00

I can't believe I didn't post yet about finaling in the Chicklit RWA chapter's Get Your Stiletto in the Door Contest in the inspy category with my story, The Husband Checklist.

I am thrilled!!!! And nervous. The Steeple Hill Cafe editor is one of the final judges, and I am SO NERVOUS and excited.

Plotting Workshop

2007-08-18T11:20:00.000-06:00

Had a great internet chat with some of the ladies in the class today, including instructor Elle James.

Fantastic class!

My usual method is to have a concept, write by the muse for about 3 chapters, then take a step back and plan the piece, knowing what I then know about the characters and the plot.

This class is my attempt to plan even earlier, though the current method works OK. But I want to write some shorter pieces for e-press, and I can't diddle around for 30 pages if my total page count is 80! Yanno?

Worked some mighty good stuff out this morning, with Elle's help and the suggestion of my classmates. Thanks all!

I Hope It's Finished This Time

2007-08-18T11:16:00.000-06:00

I retook the exam. Passing is great, but not enough to get a job.

I resat the exam yesterday, and I think I did well. Should be at least a 90, hopefully 95.

I felt good about it instead of suicidal (that was last time). I usually know how I did on a test.

Thanks for the support.

I passed!

2007-08-13T18:12:00.001-06:00

Celebration time. I've decided to retake to get a better score before I start applying for jobs, but I PASSED!!!!!

Still Waiting

2007-08-10T22:40:00.001-06:00

Still no scores. None. No matter how I lurk at my inbox, there are no emails from the school. Poo!

To pass the time, I am taking a wonderful Plotting workshop for the rest of the month. So far so good. Offered by Elle James and Delilah Devlin through their Roses website, which I will add to my links as soon as I feel like trying some HTML. Not hard but I am out of practice.

So. Inspy chicklit. Yeah. I hate the new 4 pages I wrote. I sound like the rawest of newbies. Not only that, but it's so not chick-y. It's romance-y. I don't know how chick-y it was in the first place, because my chick is so into kids, it comes off as mommy lit, though she isn't the mommy.

And thanks to Roses Plotting Bootcamp and some timely article sharing from friend Cindy Nord, I have realized that my male love interest in the chicklit must be more than pretty and perfect. He must have a goal (not just to kiss the girl), motivation (not just to kiss the girl), and conflict (more than overcoming her objections to his very chaste and inspirational kiss).

On to the challenge of creating more conflict, more laughs, and keeping a lot of tension without any sexual overtones. This gig ain't for sissies.

Exam Over

2007-08-02T09:41:00.000-06:00

That's all she wrote, folks.

I am finished with school, provided I passed the test I took Tuesday. The school (unfortunately) says I must allow up to 2 weeks to receive my scores. TWO WEEKS? Are they trying to give me heart failure?

I am lurking around my inbox, and still NOTHING. Do these people think sleeping is a priority, or what? It's been over 36 hours since I submitted the test. *hurry hurry hurry*

If you're a fwapper or a prayer or a meditator (first I typed "medicator" HA) please suggest to the universe that they HURRY and send me my scores, and that they are lenient so I will get the required score. Sigh.....I know I did well on the objective portion, but I just have no idea on the transcription. I don't know how they grade.

PARTY, PARTY, PARTY

2007-07-26T23:51:00.000-06:00

It may be a little early to celebrate. I still have my exam to ACE (not pass).

But I finished all my coursework, so give me a minute to luxuriate in this feeling of success!

THIRTY FILES LEFT!

2007-07-26T11:48:00.000-06:00

One is long--10 minutes--but the rest are short! It's going to be finished today, before close of business, so that I can request my final for Tuesday next week.

Go, go, go, gogogogogogogogo!

Still On Track

2007-07-20T17:20:00.001-06:00

123 files left to transcribe. 12 days *including today and it's already 5:20 pm* left to finish them.

Still on track to finish by the end of the month. Somehow, amid all the family visits.

Don't you hate

2007-07-18T10:22:00.001-06:00

Don't you hate that blinking cursor?

At the beginning of each chapter, I face the same demon. It's not quite, but almost the same pressure as coming up with that first sentence and paragraph and chapter of the entire book. Am I going in the right direction? Is this what should come next? Have I set things up, picked up loose ends?

All encompassed in that Blink, Blink, Blink and the blank page before me.

A lot of hooky playing lately

2007-07-15T15:34:00.000-06:00

Friday evening, DH and I went to see Harry Potter. That was enough hooky, you'd think, for a girl who's supposed to be finishing school. But no. Yesterday after I finished my errands, I played MORE hooky. No writing or homework. Just a bunch of deliberate not working. It was delicious.

Today I didn't feel very well and I keep falling asleep with the rosy cherub *my 20 mo old daughter* who has taken the longest nap in a long time today.

Now I am going to write for a bit. Maybe I'll put on those headphones later. Maybe I won't. I just have willful days, and what's a girl to do?

Homework, homework, give me a break

2007-07-12T12:35:00.000-06:00

As adults, we begin to realize that if anyone is to give us a break, WE have to do it ourselves.

I have about 3 weeks left to finish my homework, and then 2 wees to get a good grade on my final. And I am playing hooky today, in the name of creativity.

Pray my babysitting 11 yo doesn't find out she's watching the toddler so I can WRITE.

What Constitutes Balance?

2007-06-22T15:46:00.001-06:00

I thought it was Wax On, Wax Off. Homework and writing come out evenly.

I think I was wrong.

It's time to examine the definition of balance. From time to time, it becomes apparent that one aspect of life is dramatically underserved or overserved. I have concluded a break should be taken from the rest of daily activities to restore (or at least IMPROVE) the imbalance.

I haven't done a lick of homework in two weeks. I have two months left to finish my course. It's time to get on the stick. So how could I permit myself to spend a week cleaning the house and organizing my life?

I realize that it was necessary to do this in the name of balance. I am more free to do my homework when the house is clean. When my kids feel like they have had some attention and have clean clothes to wear. When we are eating nutritious meals that don't cost as much as eating out.

Don't panic. I am still the same, lazy slob. I don't intend to keep a tidy house--until I can afford a maid. However, we are making an effort to live more healthily and frugally.

The question of the day is: Why is doing the dishes the reward one gets for fixing dinner? The pots and pans are going to sit in the sink until the next morning, thank you very much.

Scratch this off my to-do list

2007-06-13T22:43:00.001-06:00

Have you ever gone swimming in a duck pond?

I had a productive day. I didn't feel sick for the first time in about six weeks.

I went to Costco. I wrote 2.5 pages (yay, that's more than today's goal) and then I made a lovely dinner of fishsticks and french fries. Then I had to take my mother in law some items at her assisted living. Well, while we were there, my kids went out to watch the ducks in the pond.

My toddler threw her shoe into the pond. This is her precious Sponge Bob croc. She must have it back. She tries to get it back herself.

So what does Mom do? Take a swim in the slimy and freezing cold duck pond. Because it was so slimy, I slid on the concrete floor of the pond and went in up to my neck. I was so cold I could barely breathe.

I tossed the shoe out, floundered my way out, dripping wet in a pair of beige pants and a white T-shirt to find an audience watching me. Funny. There were only a couple of old ladies hanging over the bridge when I waded in. My older daughter stared at me. "Mom, aren't you wearing any underwear?" OK, yeah, but under my white tee I was wearing a beige bra. Sigh.

As soon as I made it up the incline to the bank, Dizzy (toddler) threw the shoe back in.

I was so cold. So cold. And in shock. That is as close to hypothermia as I ever want to get.

Kinda knocked the creative wind out of me for the day, but I'm hoping to get a few more pages in after I get her to sleep. She's running around full speed.

Next time I go to the MIL's, I will wear my bathing suit.

Actually, I decided Dizzy doesn't get to visit the ducks for a while. She'll have to watch them from Grandma's balcony.

We made it home with both shoes. After Sponge Bob took a second dip in the pond, I got smarter. I stood at the edge of the pond in a mostly un-slimey spot and watched the pattern the shoe took as it spun around the edge of the pond. After about three passes, I reached in and snagged it. If I'd done that the first time instead of wading in, I wouldn't have gotten all wet.

I took a hot shower with a pint of antibacterial soap when I got home.

Proud to Announce...

2007-06-13T10:47:00.000-06:00

That I am going to start over with the checkbook. That's right. After 2 months skipping all the debit card entries, which total about 400 entries, I have decided to trust the bank and start afresh.

Of note, I have two accounts. The one I use to pay the bills, I have kept current. The spending money/grocery account is the one in desperate shape. There is a drawer full of receipts, which I have no intention of rectifying at this time.

Now it is time to buy groceries. It is hungry time around here!

Strange phenomena

2007-06-13T09:00:00.000-06:00

I woke up spontaneously today. I don't feel like crap. This is a huge deal. I don't remember this happening even once since my LEEP procedure, over a month ago.

And it happened despite the two hour break I took from sleeping in the middle of the night. Woke up, couldn't fall back asleep for two hours.

Guess I was tired of sleeping.

Truthfully, I think my trip to the voodoo massage therapist helped. She does a version of reflexology that keeps me stumbling along. Problem: She lives out of town so I only get to see her about every three weeks. Except this time it had been since before the LEEP.

Smile. She moved back!!! Yippee!! And sentenced me to a foot zone treatment once a week for the foreseeable future to build up my immune system. And kicked me off my M&M diet. How am I supposed to write without M&Ms?

Ain't this purty?

2007-06-11T10:55:00.000-06:00

A little pimpage for my friend, Crystal Jordan, who made me this pretty pretty blog.

I love looking different from the other blogs, and I LURV purple. So I'm in heaven. I would love to hang out here all the time.

Drop by and keep my company, please.

Julie Cohen's first page Challenge

2007-06-06T22:14:00.000-06:00

Author Julie Cohen issued a First Page Challenge. Put up the first page of a published book or work in progress, and break down what you were trying to do. Post the link on her blog, and hopefully you'll get some traffic and people commenting on whether or not you succeeded in your efforts.

Here's my selection, destined to be an inspirational chicklit novel:

“Every part of me is virgin. May I have the same reassurance from you?”

Samantha Holley nearly choked on her pasta Alfredo. Holy Cow! I expect every reader to do the same when she reads the first sentence. “Pardon me?” Setting her fork down, she cleared her throat and waited for her date to repeat himself. She couldn’t have heard him correctly the first time. Disbelief. Shock. This date is obviously NOT with our hero.

He said it again. Word for word.

And the evening had been going so well.

Choosing her words carefully, Sam tried to keep her expression neutral. “I didn’t realize there were degrees of virginity.” She’s trying to figure out what the heck he means. Reeling with disbelief, she met his ardent gaze with a frozen stare. Her smile was so brittle that she thought her face would crack. Trying to keep her composure and stay polite in what must be a freaky situation.

Jerry was extolling the virtues of “complete” virginity, which apparently meant that he was saving every millimeter himself for marriage, down to not kissing or holding hands until the blessed nuptials occurred. Which wasn’t likely if he repeated his virginity proclamation on future first dates. I’m hoping for a bit of humor with this last sentence.

When they’d met, he had seemed so normal. He’d taken her to The Olive Garden, held a lovely conversation by email and in the car on the way to dinner. No indication whatsoever that he was—what?

A complete nut. My girl’s being a bit judgmental here, but do you blame her? This sets up some growth for her, as she will re-encounter this gentleman later in the book and feel more kindly toward him.

“You see, Samantha, I’ve discovered a way to avoid sin. Without temptation, there is no sin. Therefore, no kissing. No skin to skin contact. I’ve mastered temptation.” This is quite a concept, don’t you think? In theory, it should work.

“I admire your confidence,” she said, dabbing her napkin at the corners of her mouth. Did he actually say he’d mastered temptation? Could he be more conceited? Again she’s being judgmental, hopefully not so much that my readers won’t like her. I think at this point they are going to identify with her rather than the date, and they will think she’s justified in her attitude.

Now, what the heck is she going to do? Is she going to finish the date? Run out the back door and flag a cab? You don’t know her well enough to anticipate what she’s going to do, so you’re going to think of what YOU would do here and wonder if she’d do the same.

Update on several fronts

2007-06-05T20:07:00.000-06:00

From the BatCave...

All I'm doing about weight right now is trying to get in a walk a couple of times a week. It does seem to help with the fibro. And somewhat with sleeping, although if I wake up and I hurt somewhere (odds are pretty doggone good of that happening every night) I rarely fall back asleep until time to get up.

I also did something disgusting today. I drank a caffeine-free Diet Poopsi. I admit--I mixed it half and half with real Poopsi. How else was I supposed to choke it down? That's worser than freaking water.

Wrote a book blurb today and added the description of my heroine to the first 5 pages of my current WIP. I had reached the end of chapter 2 with no description--seemed a bit too far out. Had already put in the luscious hero and described him!!! But not so my poor heroine. Her best friend--described. Her godchild--described. Her cat--you betcha. Her car--affirmative. But not so the heroine. It is so hard to discreetly describe your heroine when you're in her deep POV. "I'm gorgeous, with long flowing locks. I love my eyes. They're my best feature. I have got a few extra pounds in the caboose, but who doesn't?"

{EDIT} My tooth is dying, and so my pain scale keeps spiking to 5-6. Mostly it's at a 3 though.

Pain and writing update

2007-06-03T11:26:00.001-06:00

I have fabulous friends who check on me, so let me update the pain scale--doing so much better after I took my friend Amy's advice and cut back on caffeine. Still sleeping a lot though. But probably a 2 on the 1-10 scale.

Writing--Have a few new pages. Yay me! Will update the counter soon.

And a laugh, just for those who need one as badly as I do these days. I thought my car was a mess...

[EDIT] I updated the counter, and I am truly wondering if this is a 25K novella. I'm doubting my ability to write that short, especially with the degree of conflict I've got cooking.

So much for balance

2007-05-30T18:46:00.001-06:00

Maybe it's OK to let myself off the hook right now. No writing. No homework. Just a lot of health problems lately.

I already wrote I think I have fibromyalgia. My symptoms are escalating every day. I also have a pre-cancer scare going on in my girl parts. So stress over school, kids, health, writing-->depression-->pain-->depression-->fatigue-->stress, etc. See a problem with this? I sure do.

I think it's about time I quit going in for repeated biopsies and went in for the fibro symptoms. Maybe they'll give me some pain meds.

Wax on, Wax off

2007-05-04T11:36:00.000-06:00

Life is a balancing act. Unfortunately, I'm not so good at balancing, and my life didn't come with a safety net for when I take a tumble off the highwire.

Lately though, I've managed a few tiny triumphs in the area of balance.

I COOKED. That is a major accomplishment. Wednesday night I cooked, and I made something for Thursday (yesterday) that DH could warm up, because I knew I wouldn't be up to it. I'm fighting a sinus infection and had a minor medical procedure on Thursday. I was proud of myself. Probably unnecessarily so!

I WROTE. I've struggled with this, but not because I have nothing to write. I don't have writer's block either. I don't have "I donwannas." I have homework. Lots of homework, and I feel guilty if I write when I could be homeworking. Plus, when it's been a few days (or weeks, heaven forbid) between writing sessions, it's tougher to get back into the groove. Where am I, what are the characters doing in the next scene, etc.

I DID HOMEWORK. I am almost 20% finished with the sound files in my medical transcription course. Then I take the final, then hopefully get a job. Before the end of the summer.

WAX ON, WAX OFF. My new system: Transcribe 5 files (wax on) then write 2 pages (wax off). So far it's working. Like ying-yang or something.

It's kind of strange sharing this with whoever drops by, but one thing I've learned from the published and unpublished writers I've met since starting this journey--Everyone has a life. A real, honest-to-goodness, struggle and heartache life. Sometimes even good things (like babies or grandbabies or weddings) stonewall the writing process.

Everyone has a life. Real writers write anyway.

The Princess and the Pea

2007-05-01T17:24:00.000-06:00

Remember the old fairy tale, The Princess and the Pea? The way it was proved that the princess was indeed a real princess was that she had a pea under a pile of 100 mattresses (or at least this is how I remember the tale, and I'm far too lazy to look it up to make sure) and she could feel that pea under 100 mattresses, so much so that she couldn't sleep a wink that night.

I have news for you all. She might have been a princess. I'm in no position to prove or disprove that theory. But the truth of the matter is--the woman in question had fibromyalgia. How do I know this? Because a pea would have kept a sufferer of fibromyalgia from sleeping. I'm sure of it.

My mother has fibromyalgia. Much as I love her, my dread has grown over the past few years of sharing this fate with her. As I have acquired symptom after symptom, I have finally accepted the probability that I too have fibromyalgia, the source of random pains and strange skin sensations. Perhaps even my chronic, seemingly without cause, hives.

Examples--I was wearing a pair of flip-flops the other day, and they began to hurt. The lining on the walking surface is a cotton fabric, slightly coarse weave, not rough by any stretch of the imagination. It felt like I was walking on hemp rope. KILLING ME. So I bought new flip flops.

I am taking a class in medical transcription. I have a foot pedal to listen to my audio files and then type the transcription. Leaving my heel on the floor while pressing and releasing the pedal began to hurt my heel. My heel was in contact with a wood floor. Hardly the roughest surface. But that slight friction against the wood floor was painful enough that I started to wear my new foam-soled flip flops while using the foot pedal.

My favorite newer symptom (not brand new like these foot symptoms) is the burning pain on my skin. It feels like I have a terrible sunburn, without the deep pain or illness that would accompany such a burn. It primarily strikes on my side, affecting my entire right flank. But sometimes it's in the crease of my elbow. The back of my neck. Perhaps on my thigh, or the back of my knee. And just when it randomly disappears and I think it's passed--BAM! It's back.

None of these things are terrible to live with individually. Mostly they are just irritating. Kind of like that little tiny pea.

Asthma medication causes global warming

2007-04-08T13:33:00.000-06:00

I know it's hard to believe, but it must be TRUE! Because when I picked my daughter's albuterol inhaler from the drug store yesterday, it had a strange label on the box. "Due to environmental impact, this product will be discontinued by the end of 2007." Or somesuch (I'm not big on finding the box to make an accurate quote).

Who knew? Global warming isn't caused by cutting down rainforests or by billions of tons of pollution in the air from our cars--which incidentally is a large contributing factor to NEEDING asthma meds--it is the result of using albuterol inhalers. Those two puffs, which are mostly dispersed into the patient's lungs, have caused the polar ice to melt.

If it's not the air pollution factor, could it be that landfills are clogged with tiny 1-inch x 3-inch canisters?

I'm all for saving the environment, though I often come across as unashamedly Un-Politically Correct. But let's put our money and efforts where they will do the most good. Sanitation and reforestation, reducing commuter pollution, recycling--make all these things easier for people, and we'll be along "for the ride!"

In the meantime, my asthmatic children and I will be watching for the hopefully-suitable replacement for our lifeline--the emergency inhaler.

Always the First to Go

2007-03-12T21:00:00.001-06:00

I've lost three more pounds. These have been the most significant so far, because now my clothes don't fit right. Why? Instead of my blouses revealing a subtle hint of cleavage, my bra strap is showing and the HINT of cleavage is a pretty darn generous flash. My shirts are too big. That's right, the chest area (read your own favorite euphemism for breast) is always the first to shrink.

It's fate.

My legs are shrinking, but I can't get smaller pants yet, because I've got to whittle down my waist first. However, I can buy smaller bras and shirts.

Who made up these rules? I have to wear elephant pants (the butt sags and is all wrinkly) until I do about 2 million situps, but I can go buy a smaller bra now. Oh joy.

Where did the time go?

2007-03-05T12:31:00.000-07:00

I won't apologize. What would be the point?

It's been a turribibble month. Tough. Hard. Rocky.

I'm down 10 pounds and just fighting not to gain them back, as I don't have the wherewithall to stay on my program right now.

I have chronic depression. Sometimes it's controlled. Sometimes it's controlled well. Other times it's just this side of institutionalization. And that's where I've spent the past month. (I'm only exaggerating a tiny bit.)

Thank Heaven for great family and friends. Thank you all.

Off to the doctor to talk about different medication. Sigh.

It's Monday again

2007-01-31T06:25:00.000-07:00

OK. It's really Tuesday. I got off track.

Down one pound this week! It was that time of the month, so I'm not too discouraged that it's only one pound. My pants are getting baggy and my shirts fit--no stomach sticking out in front like a pregnant bump.

No writing. I'm working my tail off on my medical transcription course. It's intensive, and I've got to get a job and help dig us out from under. Know what that's like? Trying to do the schoolwork full time is pretty crazy.

Monday Morning Weigh In

2007-01-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

I don't want to fill up my blog with weight loss issues. However, I think a Monday morning weigh in is appropriate and will keep me motivated.

I melted away six pounds so far! And I'm not a good dieter, and I'm still nursing, so it's not about portion control. It's eating better. That's all.

Now, let's see if I can keep the blues at bay and get some writing done!

I'm Melting!!!!

2007-01-21T17:36:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday, my daughter shamed me into going back onto my eating program. She said she was worried about her weight and wanted to go on a diet.

She's a gorgeous, slim eleven-year-old. Naturally I was upset and asked her why she was worried. She told me she was concerned she would end up "obese like you."

Nothing like that to push a mom into doing what she should do for herself!

I've begun to melt. In spite of my depression and my husband hurting his back this week.

Not a lick of writing, but I'm melting!

You Complete Me

2007-01-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

Are these the most romantic words ever spoken? Not necessarily.

I've been married for almost 14 years. Our anniversary is next month. As you pass milestones like holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries, it prompts reflection. I consider what my life would be life if it had taken a different direction 14 years ago, or if I had let the cold feet win and not married my hubby. I get emotional and connected. I even think about sleeping with him. Usually I sleep with our 14 month old. Not a great move for the marriage, but this too shall pass.

Last night my wonderful husband asked me if I would type something for him. I knew what it was. He has a rank advancement test coming up on Saturday for his martial arts class. Each time they test, they have a paper they have to write. Well, DH got very emotional in his paper, and started talking about God, country and family. I was so impressed at how he had exposed himself like that. Not something a guy usually does.

Then I read something that brought me up short. "Omega (his martial arts studio) completes me." What the---???? It completes him?

The romantic scales fell away from my eyes. I laughed really hard, but it made me feel a bit inadequate.

So the next question is, should I never sleep with him again (let Omega fulfill him), or should I sleep with him more?

To Blog or not to Blog...

2007-01-08T14:20:00.000-07:00

I am in the best mood. This doesn't happen often, so I have to share when it does. Kind of makes up for my habitual bitchery. At least, I hope it does.

I'm rewriting a story from scratch. It's over there ->>> on the sidebar with the word counter. It's been slow going, and not just because my time's limited. Also because the words just weren't coming. I was making progress, but I was going through the motions. Something just wasn't right about the beginning, but I couldn't see it and didn't know how to fix it. So I simply blundered forward. Better than doing nothing.

It took a week of pondering, but I figured out what was wrong, and last night the fix began to gel.

I've spend the past two hours reworking my rewrite, and it feels so good when those words flow and you can nip and sew and revise and make good. Nothing like it. No other high comes close. Or so I hear...

Don't you hate when...

2007-01-04T11:59:00.000-07:00

People with kids tell goofy stories about them and think they are the cutest kids on the planet?

Well my kids really ARE the best. And the smartest.

My fourteen month old has been watching sign language videos since she was about nine months old. At first she didn't seem to care about them, but by the time she was a year, she asked for them with a special sign every time she was tired or bored.

She's had about 20 regular signs for the past couple of months. Then she quit signing at all and started screaming and pointing like a normal toddler. All of a sudden yesterday, she started using signs on the videos that she's never used before. Like candy and apple. And doing the Dad and Mom sign closer to correctly. She told her Dad "come here" yesterday because she wanted to show him something.

I'm amazed and thrilled. It's so fun to have two way communication with a child this small. They really do know what's going on, just like we knew they did with the first two.

One extreme to the other. No signs and total tantrums to adding new words and trying to "talk" to me all the time. Actually it's kind of exhausting.

Back in the "saddle"

2006-12-30T20:28:00.000-07:00

My baby's asleep, so it's time to WRITE!!!

I've already done the checkbook, so no more procrastinating. Update later.

** It's been two weeks since I opened the document. It doesn't suck as badly as I remembered. I tend to think the whole thing needs to be chucked about every time I review my work in progress.

He's not Fabio

2006-12-13T21:46:00.000-07:00

How Did I End Up On The Cover Of This Romance Novel?

For a laugh, take a look. This guy's not Fabio. He can write.

'Tis the season

2006-12-10T19:41:00.000-07:00

The Holiday Season. Such a joy, when one gets past the stress of the hustle and bustle. The best part is the wonder holidays hold for the kiddies. My 11 and 7 yo are pretty focused on presents now. But look at my 1 yo's expression as she discovers the Christmas tree.

And some pictures of our tree for your enjoyment:

Starting over

2006-12-07T11:26:00.000-07:00

I'm allowing myself exactly ten minutes to create this post before I turn off the internet. Really. The baby's sleeping and I don't have to be at school to volunteer at my son's class for an hour. Perfect writing time. Or dishes, whichever I make myself do.

So--Starting Over.

Breaking up is hard to do. Whether it's a story or a love affair gone wrong, it's a tough decision to make.

I intended to finish the last 10,000 words of a novel which has already been rejected. Purpose? To get my PRO status with RWA. Must have proof of submission (copy of the Rejection) to an RWA-recognized publisher and a complete, full length manuscript. So I was going to blunder through those last 10,000 words and submit for PRO.

Why? Lots of benefits to PRO status within RWA. They have extra programs for PRO and PAN (those pubbed with RWA publishers), and I thought I'd like to take advantage. Plus there's that nifty little pin too. Remind anyone else of a sorority?

So. I consulted with a writing friend who actually makes her living doing writing related stuff. Books, editing, whatever comes her way and fits her skills. I admire the commitment to her craft and talent more than she'll ever know.

I tell her I have this book languishing and I'd like some advice. Would she finish it, especially if she knew it had fatal flaws? The answer was no. Why? Because it's not a story. It's not fun. It's a product. If it's not saleable (and we already know that from the R), then we create a new product.

Was anything salvageable? My core idea, and that's about it. Some pretty writing here and there may make it into the new book, but I don't know at this point. All I know is, I've written more on it since making the decision to throw out the flawed product and begin again than I had during all the months since I set the goal of getting my pin.

I don't need the pin. I need to get published. That's what I live for. That's the recognition that counts.

What Kind of Writer Should You Be?

2006-12-05T16:05:00.000-07:00

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation.
Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life...
You usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material.
You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

This is freaking hilarious, considering a comedic writer just advised me to "rein in my gift" for the time being. It seems I'm not quite as funny as I think I am.

December has arrived!

2006-12-03T05:25:00.000-07:00

And with it, the stresses and joys of the holiday season. I don't need to elucidate (practicing vocabulary, see previous post) the stresses, so I'd like to share a joy of the season--the presents I'm most looking forward to giving.

Having gone Christmas shopping exactly two times so far this year and having come home an angry wreck, I am shopping online. My favorite! So long as the items arrive on time.

I ordered DD an Eragon game for her GameBoy. I'm really excited to try that one out myself! And I ordered MIL a fruitcake. I'm very excited about that too, because she asks for fruitcake year round, and I don't bake. Nor would I bake a yicky old fruitcake if I did bake. I ordered one online! Hope it's not a brick when it arrives.

What are YOU excited about giving or receiving this year? I have a writer friend who is getting a laptop. Woo hoo! Paper, printer, pens, what do you like?

I Got an A+ on my Vocabulary Quiz

2006-11-30T14:40:00.000-07:00

Your Vocabulary Score: A+

Congratulations on your multifarious vocabulary!
You must be quite an erudite person.

How's Your Vocabulary?

I have no idea what "multifarious" means. Nor do I care.

Which of the X-Men are you?

2006-11-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

You Are Jean Grey

Although your fate is often unknown, you always seem to survive (even after death).
Your mind is your greatest weapon, literally!

Powers: telepathy and telekinesis, the ability to project thoughts into the mind of others, communication with animals

Which of the X-Men Are You?

Five Things Even Fewer People Know About Me

2006-11-20T06:19:00.000-07:00

The message board I hang out on (literally) is the Bat Cave at eHarlequin.

Today one of my fiends (this is called Cavespeak) posted an alternate list of Five Things for me. You probably won't understand what any of it means, but I liked it, so it's blogged.

5 things you didn't know about disGrace (as told by Guanna):

1. She has been seeking an ancient talisman all her life and by sheer coinkydink found it in the Gertrude Costume Joolry collection. Now she is a seventh level wizard and we should fear her.

2. She is the founder of the oxy-mormans. Or as my Dad always said, "I don't care how you bring'em, just Brigham Young."

3. She wears make-up and a bullet bra to bed so that she'll look fantastic even if the batlings make her run screaming from the house.

4. Dizzy was immaculately conceived. The talisman foretold it.

5. Some have said that although she's disgraceful she's not graceful. She punched those people as she tripped.

Explaining that to the non-Cavers wouldn't be cavey of me, but...

Notes:

disGrace:Obviously my Cavename.

Guanna: My fiend Joanna's cavename. Don't visit her webby and order her books. (That's called Cavespeak. We say the opposite of what we mean a lot of the time.)

Gertrude Costume Joolry collection: Guanna is a power seller on eBay when her glamorous writing career permits. (That was Cavespeak for when the checks aren't coming in and the rent is due.) Recently she sold off an estate jewelry collection and I purchased what I call "The Writing Talisman." It looks a lot like an Etruscan piece to me, so let me pretend it's ancient instead of 50 years old.

oxy-mormans/oxy-mormons: Cavespeak for Mormons, of which I am one.

Number 3: My kids have been scaring the shirt out of me lately with health problems, and I recently ran out of my house to meet the ambulance. My batfiends know I usually hang around in my underwear, so I likely had to put on pants before the ambulance arrived.

Dizzy: My baby's nickname on the BatCave board. Derived from "DisGrace." My other two children are known as DD and DS as per usual, but Dizzy's pregnancy was eagerly followed by her Bat-aunties, so they made up a name for her. Full name, Dizzygirl.

#5:
Obvious punny play on my name(s). Puns are un-popular (cavespeak) on the board. We have a Cave Bard, Ms. Valerie Parv,Australia's Queen of Romance. (Not cavespeak.) Valerie is also known as Valkyrie (Cavename), but nevah nevah nevah call her "Val."

If this piques your interest enough, come visit the Bats at eHarlequin.

What part of Thanksgiving are you?

2006-11-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

You Are Mashed Potatoes

Ordinary, comforting, and more than a little predictable
You're the glue that holds everyone together.

What Part of Thanksgiving Are You?

I don't know where people come up with quizzes like this. My friend Crystal Jordan had this on her blog, so I took the quiz too.

Can you say "Procrastination?" Yep, I can say it by surfing the internet.

In my defense, I worked on my Medical Transcription class for three hours today. Then my son had an allergy attack and I had an IBS attack *TMI* so now I'm procrastinating instead of writing.

Five Things Few People Know About Me

2006-11-17T07:44:00.000-07:00

This is a game some of my writer pals are playing. You get tagged on their blog, and then you're supposed to play next.

Bronwyn Parry tagged me. So here's my list.

1. My children’s birthdays all take place in a three week span. While I was pregnant with my one year old, my eleven year old daughter told a friend that “Mom only comes into heat once a year.”

2. Though it’s my dream to travel extensively, even a one-day trip can send me into panic. I am a homebody. My traveling kit is packed with Pepto-Bismol, Dramamine, and headache remedies.

3. I met my husband two weeks after he was released from the Marines. He intended to live a life of glamour working as a casino security guard in Vegas. But after he met me, he moved in with his retired parents and got a construction job to save up so we could get engaged. Now he slaves away for me and our three kids. Not much glamour there. But his devotion to us is the most romantic thing I can imagine.

4. Everything in my fridge is growing green and blue fuzz. I wish I were a better housekeeper, but wishing doesn’t help much. The joke when friends or family come over is, Check the expiration date.

5. When I was working late one night, a bat invaded the office. Since I had to set the alarm, I couldn’t leave the little beggar in there. His flying would have set off the motion sensors. And Animal Control wouldn’t come. I entertained myself for quite some time turning the lights on and off and watching the bat “roost” on the acoustic ceiling tiles (digging his wing talons into the material when the lights were on, and flap around the room as if seeking an escape route whenever the lights were off). Eventually a coworker who lived nearby came to help, and we used brooms to shoo the poor thing off the shipping dock.

I'm going to tag two people to get this moving in two different circles. I don't know if that's against the rules. Send the game police after me if it is.

Crystal Jordan
Nell Dixon

Free Read--Part Two--Bittersweet Reunion

2006-11-16T13:28:00.000-07:00

I cracked the door open to whisper, “You’re not Hugh Jackman.”

“Can I come in anyway?” It had been two years since I’d heard that masculine voice.

Pressing a finger to my lips, I signaled he should be quiet and nodded. “Josh is asleep.”

Ty Renquist brushed past me and into the apartment. Light from the television cast light and shadow across his face, across the boxes stacked against the walls. It didn’t matter how strange the lighting was or how dark it was outside. I knew him.

Two years. I could barely believe he was here.

I pointed at the hide-a-bed where my son lay sleeping. Ty nodded his acknowledgement, and we went into the small kitchen. I leaned against the counter, its hard edge digging into my hip. Excitement and nerves bubbled up in my chest, and I grinned at Ty. He was a sight for sore eyes, even in the dim, flickering light. Hair cropped short, dark shirt, faded jeans. I couldn’t see the color of his eyes, but I knew they were green.

“Can we talk in here?” he whispered.

I shook my head. “Let’s go into Josh’s room.” Excitement and nerves bubbled up in my chest, and I grinned at Ty.

He smiled back and took my hand. “It’s OK I’m here?”

“Yeah.” My smile widened, and I shoved a bunch of hair out of my face. “Yeah, it’s more than OK. Hang on.” Opening the fridge, I pulled out a box of wine, and Ty gave me a thumbs up.

Creeping down the hall behind my old friend, I felt like a teenager sneaking in after curfew. Ty didn’t have any trouble finding our apartment’s one bedroom. I’d assigned it to my son, intending to sleep on the sofa bed myself.

All I’d had a chance to unpack in the bedroom was Josh’s bed, sheets, and blankets. His bed was made, but he wanted to sleep with me on our first night in our new home.

I sat on the edge of the mattress and patted the spot next to me. Ty took a seat before taking the wine box out of my hand. “I’ll get some glasses.”

New problem. “All our glasses are still packed.” I came up with a solution.

A moment later, I handed Ty a couple of Winnie the Pooh paper cups from the bathroom. I stifled a giggle as he filled our Dixie cups with wine.

Free Read--Kissing Hugh Jackman

2006-11-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

Part One

“This won’t hurt a bit.” Wolverine took a step closer.

I took a step back. “Logan.” Looking pointedly at his extended metal claws, I said, “I’m not into that kind of pain.”

“Right.” His claws retracted. “Kill bad guys. Put blades away.”

“Where were we?” I edged closer to Logan, sliding my hands up his leather-covered chest.

“Right about—”

I jerked awake, breathing hard and fumbling for my alarm clock. But it wasn’t where it belonged. The nightstand was missing too.

A warm body snuggled into my waist, and awareness began to penetrate by degrees. New apartment. Sofa bed. Six-year-old son. Surrounded by unpacked boxes.

Hugh Jackman was conspicuously absent from my living room. But he was on the television, fighting Magneto’s mutants.

Likely the TV had woken me up. I slid away from Joshua and swung my legs over the side of the bed/sofa, intending to switch Wolverine off for the night.

A soft rap at the door stopped me mid-stride. I had no concept of what time it was, but it was nighttime, and nobody knew us in our new complex. Maybe it was my parents coming to check on us. Wouldn’t they have just called, rather than cross town in the dark?

The short, nubby carpet scuffed against my bare feet as I crossed to the front door. I sure hoped it was my parents. I wore a shabby gray T-shirt and matching cutoff sweats. I didn’t look forward to meeting new neighbors in my moving attire.

After peeking through the spyhole, adrenaline rushed through me. I cracked the door open to whisper, “You’re not Hugh Jackman.”

She scratches her head....

2006-11-14T08:44:00.000-07:00

I don't know where the inspiration or the focus came from.

Did I actually say that yesterday? Please! Who calls working on four different projects in the same day "focus"???

An emergency trip to Assisted Living for MIL (who didn't realize she was running out of Depends) may derail my writing day. I swear I'll write the Sponge Bob story soon.

Teasers

2006-11-13T23:51:00.000-07:00

I've been writing today. And yesterday. I don't know where the inspiration or the focus came from.

Best lines:

Adam: "I don’t take my pants off for just anyone."

The Stone City:

"This is where you are meant to be.”

“Destiny.” Lii couldn’t hide her bitterness. “Destiny chosen for me by a sperm and an egg.”

The Minister of the Board of Psi Rankings chuckled. “Do you not know who you are? Have you not accepted your fate? The highest Psi in history. An Ani-Mate. And Heir to the House of Verity. You have the most power of any person on this world.”

“Yes. But none of it is mine.”

And finally, the best one:

We made love on Sponge Bob sheets.

**************

Now, if I have an hour to waste tomorrow, I'll probably write a short, FREE READ with the Sponge Bob line in it.

Contemplative:Change of Season

2006-11-09T11:15:00.000-07:00

In September, it was rather cold around here. 30-40's. Since then, it's been unseasonably warm. The kids didn't have to wear coats to go trick-or-treating. Yesterday it was over 60 degrees.

Today, winter's bite stings the skin. The wind tumbles masses of leaves from the trees, hurrying them down the street. Their beauty paints the landscape in seas of reds, golds, yellows, and browns. The first burst of fall as the world surrenders to the call of sleep.

The change of season is nature's lesson on life. At least for me. Surrender is difficult, but it can be beautiful, just as the piles of discarded leaves on my neighbor's lawn are beautiful. One season makes way for the next, but no season can claim forever victory. Even winter and death must make way for the rebirth of spring.

Last year when I discovered I was expecting that sweet little girl pictured here, my life entered a new season. I thought I was done with that stretch of motherhood, and I gloried in the prospect of having my days to myself, embarking on a creative and productive period.

It was not yet time. I had to surrender to the realization that I would be doing diaper duty. Not sleeping. Not writing as much as I wanted to, not subbing to publishing houses. Not Getting Published.

It was a bitter surrender. But now I glory in the joy of my little girl as she takes her first steps. Learns the meaning of the word "no" and throws a tantrum. Rocks her baby and sings to her.

And my season of Self will come as one joy makes way for another.

Running a blogspot test

2006-11-08T15:44:00.000-07:00

My last one only appears intermittently. Grrrr.

I'm keeping myself busy watching my baby sleep.

Going to write another book review!

Down for the count

2006-11-08T13:18:00.000-07:00

NaNo is so dead. How quickly I got derailed. My son's asthma has been in my way. Then my daughter took a ride to the hospital in the ambulance. She just stopped breathing. We don't know if it was an airway obstruction or if she had a breath holding episode or what. Never found an object.

Here's my NaNo ticker:

And I'm counting the article I wrote for my RWA chapter newsletter in there.

It's a good article.

The Writer’s Shelf

The Hero With A Thousand Faces
By Joseph Campbell
Princeton University Press
ISBN: 0-691-1784-0
$16.95

This book is a landmark in Campbell’s field of study, mapping the heroic journey that is common to mythologies spanning the globe. I hope my attempt to review it will do it justice and pique your curiosity at the same time.

Campbell opens his exploration of mythological heroes by first justifying our need for such stories. Though that certainly was not the main purpose of the book, I found it the most compelling section, as it explains, finally, the need for the romance novel in our modern world. Our genre has the highest sales and the lowest public regard. Why?

First, let me address the issue of low regard, as explained by Campbell. Again, this was not the purpose of his work, but he so clearly pinpoints the duality of the modern human condition. We are intellectually driven, wanting to explain everything rationally or scientifically. Evidence suggests that happy endings are in short supply in daily living. Human beings therefore disregard the “happily ever after” as unrealistic pabulum for the masses—like religion. Without the comfort of myth and religion in modern times, we live in a state of consummate despair.

This is why we need romance. Disdain for the happy ending leaves life with little purpose. Is there a heaven? Is there true love? The evidentiary answer of modern society is “no.” We have invented gods and so-called true love to comfort and justify ourselves.

According to Campbell, happy endings should not be regarded as lies, but as a representation of mankind’s ability to transcend the state of tragedy. A touch of the divine is glimpsed in these stories, a restoration of hope, however temporary.

This is the role of romance, to light the beacon of hope in a world that is often dark and filled with despair. Romance can temporarily counteract the fear engendered by the geo-political climate. It can restore belief in unconditional love, if only for the duration of the story. It can take a dreary day of work and transform it into excitement, renewing the thrill of infatuation and desire.

What am I telling you? Social science says we need romance! It’s not escapism for the simple-minded. It’s the restoration of balance to the human condition. A touch of the divine is glimpsed in these stories.

And this explains the genre’s high sales.

Campbell’s power-packed book brings all this to light in the first twenty-eight pages of the prologue. He then goes on to explain why a hero must go through trials—again, the explanations are in the context of cultural myths. I am the one making the ties to the romance novel.

“It is the business of mythology proper, and of the fairy tale, to reveal the specific dangers and techniques of the dark interior way from tragedy to comedy.”

~~Campbell, Hero…Thousand Faces, p. 29

Tragedy and trials are required for our hero/heroine to earn the happy ending. Romance readers like to feel that the characters deserve this love as a reward, not as a happy accident. For how many evidences do we see of enduring serendipity?

Here is the explanation of the appeal of the tortured hero. The attraction of the dark, bad boy. You can fill in further archetypes on your own. The point is, your hero/heroine has gotta pay for happiness. If it’s free, it doesn’t mean much to your reader.

Perhaps the heroes of our romances do not return from their trials with Gorgons’ heads or Golden Fleeces to rule over ancient cities. The heroes of romance may triumph over modern Minotaurs and tangible enemies, but we as readers will not feel love has been earned unless they embark on a spiritual journey, make significant personal change, and return triumphant to claim the boon of true love.

There’s my summary of the first thirty pages of this book. What about the rest of it? I’m not going to lie to you. It’s dense. It’s intellectual. It’s fascinating. As a student of humanity, get the book and read it.

As a writer who wants to apply the mythology to her writing, I recommend another book, which I reviewed some time ago in this column.

Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers is based entirely on Campbell’s work. Having now read both of these studies of the structure of mythology, I can avow that Vogler is faithful to Campbell. He breaks the myth down into the same structure Campbell does.

Quoting my earlier review:

Vogler translates the hero’s journey into a formula which can be applied to any story or character. He outlines the twelve steps of the journey and provides examples in familiar stories and movies, beautifully illustrating the concepts he attributes to the work of Joseph Campbell.

Both books are brilliant. Reading them was time well spent.
And if you needed justification for the scores of romances lining the walls in the den, Campbell’s your man. Social science says your books are helping to restore society’s balance.

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

NaNoWriMo

2006-11-03T00:48:00.000-07:00

Crazy me! I'm participating in eharlequin's version of NaNoWriMo. Hopefully that isn't a copyrighted title. Apologies if it is.

So far all I have is two and a half pages of crap. Which puts me behind about, oh, nine and a half pages? Two days into it! Give up already?!

Fave lines:

November 1:
She’d puked in Chas’ truck. Of all the things you could do to a guy, hurking in his vehicle was pretty much verboten. The lowest of the low.

Too bad, because at the moment, she wasn’t at all sure she wasn’t going to hurk all over his guest bedroom.

November 2:
“Sorry I was such a bitch at the bar.” (hahaha, I love this one out of context!)

“You remember that?” He didn’t care about her rough treatment nearly as much as he cared about the secrets. They hurt a hell of a lot more than careless words and heels kicking his shins.

Starting my blog

2006-04-10T19:37:00.000-06:00

I have a strange notion that people will be interested in what I have to say. About any topic, and perhaps writing in particular.

Let's hope I'm right about that.

More tomorrow.