Everyone Needs A Spare

Unreliable narrator

2010-09-13T02:07:00.003+02:00

Last month, my local RWA chapter had a little bit of free time during our meeting. So we did a writing exercise. We were supposed to write about a narrator who was either more or less than they purported to be, and give hints as to their reality through settings, dialogue, etc. In other words, an unreliable narrator.

My results were kind of quite a bit out of my normal writing - 1st person, male, about a topic that's not particularly romancy at all. And my blog was looking so lonely and neglected, I figured I'd toss it up as a mini free read. Mind you, this is totally rough and unedited. I ran spell check and that's about it. *g*

***

I’d gone out on the roof for a cigarette at a time that wasn’t my official break. Right there, you know I’m no stinking hero, right?

Heroes don’t sneak away from their desk because they think they might slam their manager’s head in the desk if they changed the font on our mailers for the fifteenth time. That morning. (Yesterday, he thought comic sans was the best font ever and wouldn’t be swayed. Until he saw papyrus.)

At a little past nine thirty the door to the stairwell swung shut behind me.

I was still fishing my lighter out of my pocket when I saw her.

I didn’t even know who she was. Jimmy and I had spent plenty of time over lunch talking about the hot chicks at the company and I was pretty sure we knew ‘em all.

This one would have been pretty hard to miss, after all. She was blond, for one thing, and I like blondes. A lot. Little china-doll features, with a button nose and big blue eyes. Only problem was the nose was red at the tip and her eyes were almost completely bloodshot.

I couldn’t see her legs where they dangled over the edge of the roof, which was a shame. I’m a leg man. Her rack was nice in the tiny-strapped top she wore. It looked like she was ready for a night of clubbing rather than working at Struthers and Brant, Inc.

I sat beside her. It’s not like there’s benches up there. Just flat, stinking asphalt.

She looked at me, and I couldn’t help but see that her eyes were welling up with tears. From the looks of her pink-splotched cheeks, she’d been at it a while.
It was either head it off or spend my whole illicit break listening to sobs. And really, who wants to deal with that? “Rough night?” I asked.

She sniffled. Turned her face out over the street. I know we were twenty stories up, but you’d have thought someone would have noticed her before. Then I wouldn’t have stumbled into this crap.

Her shoulders lifted. “Not great.”

I stuck my cig in my mouth finally. Wrong side first. Tar flecked across the tip of my tongue. I yanked it out and flipped it. The lighter did a weird little shake and jump as I tried to light it.

I pushed out a slow breath and tried again. Hot rough smoke burned down my throat. Thank God.

Always need a smoke to deal with crying broads.

“You know, the Denny’s on fifth is a much better after-club stop.” I blew smoke out into the wild blue yonder, then swallowed. A weird lump had taken up residence in my throat. I needed to quit the damn things. “The hash browns are damn good. Sop up any extra booze.”

Her lashes blinked so rapidly I thought they were waving at me. “I didn’t drink anything.” Her shoulders lifted in that same shrug. “Well, I didn’t think I did.”

“But?” Weird. I didn’t think I had that in me, that soft soothing tone. Ma had gotten right pissed at me plenty of times for not showing enough sympathy to her cat, Mr. Whiskens.

“But I woke up out here. And...” Her voice broke.

I didn’t much figure I should touch her, though.

She shuddered. “I hurt,” she said in a voice so quiet I could barely hear it over the rush of wind and the pigeons swooping nearby.

I took another drag of my smoke. “There’s only one thing to do about that,” I said. “We’ll take you to the doctor’s.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. Really, if she needed that pointed out, it seemed the least I could do. “Yeah.”

She scrubbed a hand over her face. The cloudy dazed look finally slipped away. She turned her pert ass and brought her legs over to the safe side. She shook a little as she stood.

At the door to the stairwell, she stopped. Looked at me. Her eyes were still watery. “I was gonna jump.”

I held open the door. “I know.”

Jazz Baby's new review

2010-07-22T16:20:00.002+02:00

So....Kinda empty in here, isn't it? And I have no one to blame but myself. The longer you leave a blog alone, the harder it is to come back. You (or at least I) feel like whatever you post when you come back has to be epic. Funny. Interesting in a way that says "Look, this is why I was gone so long! I was preparing this perfect post!"

I wasn't preparing something perfect. Obviously. ;)

But, look! I got a lovely review from Sonomalass. That's definitely worth posting for. *pets pretty-pretty review* Even better, I popped her iPad's ereader cherry. I think that's probably the closest I'll get to an iPad for a long, long time. (The ones I fondle at Best Buy don't count because they let just anyone pet them. They're slutty like that.)

Anyhoo, if anyone does happen to be floating around here looking for me, I'm on twitter. Actually I'm on twitter a lot... Like, a LOT. Feel free to hunt me down.

Fuck mediocrity

2010-05-12T02:12:00.002+02:00

A lot of stuff has dropped on my head the past two days. Separately, any one of them would be a bummer but all together... It kind of proved too much for me.

I kinda broke down this afternoon. (Don't worry, this is no sappy-poor me post.)

The word that kept pounding in my head was mediocrity. That I'm a mediocre mother, a mediocre housewife, mediocre in my attempts to re-join the workforce. A mediocre writer.

But you know what? Fuck that. Mediocre can lay down and die. And if it won't be so polite, I'm going to kick it into submission. I'll stomp it with steel-toe boots, if that's what it takes.

I'm not psycho. I know I can't be awesome at everything. So here's what I've chosen:

I'm going to be an awesome mom. Whatever it takes. I'm already a good mom but I'm going to power into the strata.

And I'm going to be an awesome writer. Practice and craft and dedication and determination. Above all, determination.

I WILL do this.

Winner!

2010-03-15T15:42:00.002+01:00

I'm a spaz. I'd forgotten I'd kicked this old beast of a blog back into movement and more than that offered prizes. That I said I was going to announce on Friday.

In my defense, I've been sick and blerghish since Thursday. *looks for sympathy* *crickets* Yeah, yeah, suck it up and give out the book, lady. ;)

Thanks for playing everyone. Makes me feel loads better about myself. For the record, I do use Google Alerts. But, I dunno, I guess I don't trust a bot....Never said I was fully logical, did I? The good news is that I'm on the mend - I haven't googled Jazz Baby since Friday! I'm so proud of myself. Heh.

With no further ado, the winner is:

Ina!

My mind is beyond lost....with contest!

2010-03-10T05:41:00.005+01:00

Man, has it been a whirlwind couple of weeks. Jazz Baby came out last Tuesday (OMG, I've been a published author for more than a week? Really? You promise?) and I've had a couple lovely reviews, and an interview at Dear Author. Monday night I got to spend a fun couple hours chatting with The Blackraven in preparation for today's interview. Plus I've been hard at work on my next book. (Gawd, so hard at work. The book is chugging along, but more like a loaded down freight train working its way uphill than like the bullet train I wish for.) Also, my husband was away on business last week, so I had a bit of single-parent-itis going on.

But really? Where has my time gone? It's been sucked up by the searching. Google owns my soul. It's a sickness, really.

And any author who says they *don't* spend their first week of their debut book searching all possible combinations of their name and title (because I seem to have a delusion that thinks I will get different results depending on which order I google them in) is lying. Or a sorceress with skills that I would kill to know. There's something a little voyeuristic about reading comment trails about your work, but I can. Not. Stop.

Would you like a chance to win a free copy of Jazz Baby, in the digital format of your preference? In the comments, tell me something that'll make me feel less like a freak. What do *you* obsess over? You've got til Friday.

Winner!

2010-03-09T15:22:00.002+01:00

I am incapable of saying "we have a winner" without it sounding in my head like those guys who announcing boxing. It's a sickness.

Any-hoo, the winner of the fabulous LB Gregg's Catch Me if You Can is s7anna! Congratulations! S7anna, go ahead and email LB so she can send you your copy. I'm sure you'll have fun; it's a great book that's already rocking the MBAM charts. We're so proud of LB. :D

Opposites - With Prizes!

2010-03-04T19:09:00.013+01:00

A second blog in a week? How very, very shocking! But when Lisabea and I decided to hook up for a fun little list game, it couldn't be avoided. Don't get used to it or nothin'. ;)

Ok, so Lisabea is also known as LB Gregg. That'd be the fabulously talented LB Gregg, I mean, whose newest release is Catch Me If You Can, which also came out Tuesday, along with Jazz Baby. But really, we're at the opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to what we write. Jazz Baby is a heterosexual historical. Catch Me is a m/m contemporary.

It's like chocolate and peanut butter. You wouldn't *think* they go together, but it turns out amazing.

In honor of our opposite-ish-ness, I present you with my top five "Opposites Attract" examples.
Margaret & Mr. Thornton in the BBC’s miniseries of North and South.

There’s rough at the edges yet sexy Mr. Thornton who’s brought himself up from nothing. And prissy, pampered Margaret who almost misses the amazing man right under her nose before finally pulling her head out of her – oh, wait, am I projecting again?

LB Gregg: You're one of those 'crusaders' aren't you? Where's KristieJ? I'm telling you the real hot piece of man flesh in that movie was Higgins, people.

Han Solo and Princess Leia in Star Wars

If anyone reading this does not know who Han Solo and Princess Leia are, I am really, truly never speaking to you again. *flounce* But I will deign to describe them, just for the pure fun of talking about Han Solo. Ah, Han. Smuggler, mercenary and all around smart mouth. Princess Leia, the crusader and resistance fighter determined to save her universe. “I love you.” … “I know.” That should be asshol-ish and it IS but that’s not gonna stop me from sighing every time.

LB: Word. I can't even go slash here because I love Carrie Fisher.

Judd & Brenna in Nalini Singh’s Caressed by Ice

Judd is both a victim and proponent of Silence in Singh’s Psy/Changeling world. He’s so powerful and full on bad-ass that he’ll kill with his mind if he doesn’t keep himself under insanely tight wraps. Brenna is a wolf shifter – she embraces her animal nature and has a wildness of spirit that Judd simply can NOT stay away from, despite knowing the risks. If he’d grow up a little bit, I think Chris Evans would make a great (hawt!) Judd.

LB: I think Chris Evans could butter my toast any time. Judd/Brenna? YES This is my hands down favorite of Nalini's books (that I've read to date).

Sarah Fielding & Derek Craven in Dreaming of You, by Lisa Kleypas

Sarah Fielding is another prim and prissy miss, but she’s no prude, at least. When she meets Cockney bastard (in all meanings of the word) Derek Craven, they’re perfect for each other in a way no one else would. Funny thing? When I googled for images of Derek Craven, Richard Armitage comes up. It’s the John Thornton thing. Hot, self-made guy in an ascot. Rawr.

LB:Ok this is one of my top five romances of all time. Kleypas has a clean/dirty theme throughout this book that breaks my heart. ::melt:: Derek Craven is THE man. Richard? Uhm....he's okay.

Opposites Attract by Paula Abdul

The dude’s a cartoon AND a cat! You can’t get much more opposite from Paula.

LB: Is he a shifter? Because I could see that working.

Wanna see LB's list? Then head on over to her blog.

Plus, you can be entered to win a copy of Jazz Baby AND a copy of Catch Me if You Can if you comment at both posts. And to sweeten the pot (heh. It's a pun. Heh.) I'm tossing in a box of See's Candies' Chocolate and Vanilla Lollypops. Yummiest opposites I can think of!

Just drop a comment here about your favorite opposite pairing to win a copy of LB's book. And then head on over to her place and comment there to win Jazz Baby!

ETA: Winners will be announced Monday at Noon, Eastern Standard Time!

Jazz Baby is officially out!

2010-03-02T22:25:00.004+01:00

I has a book. I has a bright, shiny book. It's not quite pettable though, since it's an ebook. I'll have to wait 'til early 2011 and the paperback version before I can hug it and squeeze it and call it George. Having to wipe off my computer screen 'cause I keep petting it is getting a little tiresome.

But still. A book. MY book. That I labored over for a LONG time. It's all sparkly and going out to the world at large. Even better? People actually seem to be liking it. Shocking, I know! I've already collected a couple reviews that I'd like to hug and squeeze as well. Katiebabs gave it an A- and called it "an excellent, well written romance that comes across somewhat literary in its telling." E at Bookpushers gave it 4.5 out of 5 stars and said she was "immediately drawn into the world of speakeasies, and undercover agents."

Here's the blurb:

Of all the juice joints he had to bust, this one had to be hers…

In the world of illegal speakeasies, Kate Kirkland has her life running smoother than a Model T. Maybe moving the family bar into the basement wasn’t the best choice for her alcoholic brother, but Kate’s making them a living—until a local gangster tries to expand his territory. Right into her bar.

Luckily Micah Trent, her handsome and too-suave bootlegger, is ready and willing to offer her a helping hand. If Kate can bring herself to accept it. Since sharing one sensual dance to seal their deal, she can’t ignore the delectably wicked way he makes her feel.

Micah is keeping secrets of his own. He’s a Prohibition Agent, sworn to shut down the gin mills and distilleries that keep illegal booze flowing. Kate’s speakeasy is next on his list—right after he uses her as bait to catch the gangster hunting her.

But even if Micah and Kate can maneuver their way through the gangsters’ dangerous underworld, will their love survive the trial by fire?

Sound good? It can be purchased at either My Bookstore and More or Books on Board. *hint hint, nudge nudge* Also, tune back in here Thursday for a special contest I'll be running with Lisabea, also known as LB Gregg

A playlist!

2010-02-21T05:56:00.003+01:00

My current wip has a play list. This is a little unusual for me - I often have a particular type of music I listen to while writing a certain project, like I listened to a lot of blues & jazz while writing Jazz Baby. (Duh.) But a specific set of songs? That's different.

I figured I'd inflict a selection of them on y'all. :D 'Cause sharing insanity lessens it.

First up, a haunting unwilling love song: Loving You Against My Will, by Gary Allan.

Next, we've got the song that kind of pinpoints where the hero's at in the beginning, The Weary Kind. As a bonus, Ryan Bingham's purty darn cute:

I think of my heroine when I hear this one, but I'm not sure why. It's a wistful, lonesome song, and my heroine isn't at all the type to wander around and mourn the end of a relationship. I Go Walking After Midnight, by Patsy Cline:

There's several Johnny Cash songs on the list, but here's only one. Folsom Prison Blues:

Another where the story of the song has little to nothing to do with *my* story, but the tone fits. :) And look, it's Ricky Shroder in the video! (Apparently he directed it as well. Huh. Didn't know that.) Whisky Lullaby, by Brad Paisley and Allison Kraus:

So, anyhow, I bet you can guess what *type* of romance I'm writing, can't ya? ;)

Jazz Baby has a cover!

2010-01-31T05:04:00.002+01:00

Ta-da:

I'm so stoked. I think it's got a whole silver screen feel, which just rocks. And she looks like she's totally in control, so that's appropriate. :D

Opinions?

5 Questions

2009-11-28T00:41:00.004+01:00

Memes! I <3 memes. Especially when I have sadly neglected my blog....they're an easy road home.

This one came by way of Sarah, so let's have at it.

If you'd like to play along, leave me a comment saying "Resistance is Futile."

* I'll respond by asking you five questions so I can satisfy my curiosity.
* Update your journal with the answers to the questions.
* Include this explanation in the post and offer to ask other people questions.

1. You write historicals: do you wish your brain would let you write contemporary or a different historical era?

Actually, my brain does let me write other eras. :) I have my 1920s set book coming out in spring, Jazz Baby, but that's not the only period I've written. I've done some contemporary shorts, and I have an 1880s set novel with which I'm still not happy with the ending. I'm writing a 20s novella right now, but I think after that will be a contemporary full-length.

I do wish I could be a little more mainstream. The 1880s book I wrote? It's a western, when the general consensus is that westerns aren't selling well, and there's nary a cowboy in sight. It's all miners. And there's no gunslinging. And one of the biggest secondary characters is a whore. *sigh* I think I am just a little broken. Sometimes I think it'd be easier if I could write a couple Lords and Ladies. Maybe a debauched Duke or two.

2. What's your favorite flower and why?

Porcelain ones. Or metal, or ceramic. Just not a living, green type that I'm expected to keep alive. It doesn't work, and then I end up all disappointed with my black thumb, and I worry about disappointing whomever gave me the plant.

Or I could say any that my husband randomly brings me. He's been known to give me flowers just for the heck of it, and I absolutely adore that about him.

3. Do you think your husband is The One for you or fouls you have married someone else?

I'm not sure I believe in the ideal of The One. Shocking, for a romance writer, I know. I kinda think that each person, as they go through life, usually meets a few people that they could make a loving, satisfying and fulfilling life with. The One kind of negates the hard work that is marriage.

That being said, yes, I think marrying my husband was the right choice. We've made a good life together and I think it'll only keep getting better.

4. Do you WANT to be able to write full-time?

God yes. Making a living off my writing one of my goals. I've gotten a taste of it lately, and even with working the stay-at-home gig at the same time, I'm liking it. I imagine it'll only get better when the littlest one's in school.

5. What's the best thing about your husband's deployments?

Spinach & mushroom pizza.

To be a little less specific, not having to choose between cooking a full meal (with meat. He's always got to have meat. The more often it's red, the better) or going out to a full-service restaurant. When it's just me and the boys, I can get away with making them fast choices, and I can have non-normative food.

Oh, and being able to watch Pride and Prejudice as often as I want.

Arrival!

2009-10-10T05:00:00.002+02:00

We made it. All alive and in one piece. Four days on the road, two adults and three kids in a truck. Three nights in hotels. The second night was in the teeniest effing motel I've ever set foot in. Two full beds, both right up against the wall and with only a foot between them.

Now tho? Swank suite. Nice. And I've already got a five page printout of available rentals in the area. In something like size 8 font. I need a highlighter.

Randomly, did you know Arizona didn't participate in Daylight Savings Time? I'm going to have to look up why, but it makes some sense - this was never a particularly agrarian region.

I think my brain's too shot to be interesting right now. By the third day, I thought the Rio Grande drained into the Pacific side. *sigh*

I'd say it was time to go to bed, but I have rental houses to Google.

48 hours.....

2009-09-30T16:38:00.002+02:00

A few days ago, I gave the toddler boy Golden Oreos for a snack. (Well, he got the pack out of the pantry, and looked up at me with huge, adorable eyes, while waving the cookies, until I opened them.) A little later, I cruise on by the table to check on him. He'd popped open all the cookies and licked the cream out.

That's my boy.

We are T-minus-holy-fuck-it's-a-matter-of-hours until moving time. In good news, my mom is in possession of my (hopefully fixed) netbook and will be over-nighting it to me. So I can stress less about our finances, since I run everything off Microsoft Money on that computer, and will be able to get back to normal soon. Yay!

Then it's just a matter of surviving four days in a truck with three kids under 8, a dog, and the husband.

Pray for me.

Or wait for me along I-20 with chocolate and wine.

Pity party - everyone's invited!

2009-09-23T14:27:00.004+02:00

I've been having car trouble for a little bit. Nothing huge, mostly an annoyance - the car doesn't like starting on the first go. It wants me to approach it slowly, give a couple tentative overtures first. So I booked in an appointment on Friday, no big.

I got stuck in the Starbucks parking lot for almost 20 minutes this morning.

This morning, I also realized I signed up and paid for a luncheon on Friday. My day off.

Oh, and I also dumped coffee on myself this morning, dousing myself from chest to knees. Nice.

Suffice it to say, I don't think this is my morning.

If I had the leave time -- oh, and less to do -- I'd go home and crawl back into bed. Wouldn't even turn the tv on, since I'd be sure to see something appaling with the way my luck seems to be going. No eating or drinking, either. I'd be sure to choke on it. *headdesk headdesk*

Music. I need music to cheer me up. (And for the drive coming up, too.) Anyone got suggestions?

Jeeze, just calm down already!

2009-09-17T14:28:00.005+02:00

We're moving. In almost exactly two weeks. ("Go West, young man, go West!") The Army gave us exactly 32 days to get everything done. We'd had word of the change of station coming, but no paperwork, so no way to get a move on.

Now we're trying to get everything done. In less than a month. Holy god, pray for me and pass the chocolate.

As I told a friend, this ain't my first rodeo - but that doesn't mean happens without effort, either.

I resorted to a big ole To Do list a week ago. Wrote up two pages. Lists seriously are my last resort - when I know I have six million things crashing down on me and I must get them all done *now* as in yesterday. (When I was in the army and a lowly Specialist, my E7 boss left me in charge for three weeks. All I remember from that period are lists. And lists.)

The thing is, most of the items on those pages are things I cannot possibly control. Things to be done once we get to Arizona. Appointments that haven't come up yet. Things that are fully out of my control. (Fruedian typo - I skipped the "my" at first. Yep, outta control, for sure.) Things I need to "holy crap, just freaking let go of it already before you drive your damn family MAD!" about.

And so far? Ain't working.

P.S. I was over at Unusual Historicals yesterday, talking about William Randolph Hearst and Marion Davies.

"I ain't got nobody"

2009-08-24T21:59:00.002+02:00

So while I was on my butt with a tooth brush, scrubbing my kitchen floor, I had some time to think. (Did I mention this project took three hours? And I have another section left to do tonight? Seriously. Cream colored tile and grout. What was I smoking to agree to that?)

When I wasn't performing my scullery maid duties, I was reading Jami Alden's Kept and one thing snagged my attention.

For the record, let me say that I enjoyed the book. Derek, the hero, was pretty sexy and Alden managed to redeem Alyssa from the whole party-girl image without resorting to the whole "but she wasn't really a bad girl" thing. Hate that. Alyssa really had partied, and been to rehab, and by the time the book starts she's already a year into fixing up both her image and her life.

But one the thing that kept niggling at me.

Oh, wait:

AHOY! HERE BE SPOILERS!!!!

By the end of the book, Alyssa had no one. No support. No family. Only one friend important enough to make a kinda-appearance in the book. (She texts the friend to borrow a beach house.)

She starts with a father, a half-sister and an assistant who all seem to make up a somewhat shaky foundation for her life, but at least it's something. She also has a mother, but mom's a deathly ill and remains off-camera the entire book.

Alyssa has a not-great relationship with her father, but they're working on it. In fact, to the reader, it seems apparent that she and pops are right on the cusp of significant relationship growth. And then he's offed in, like, the third chapter. Holy baby jebus. The reader knows by about a third in that the heroine's assitant is actually a resentful bitch and helping the bad guys get her, but Alyssa doesn't find this out until about two thirds of the way in. The half-sister's dramatic reveal as one of the central, orchestrating baddies is a last-chapter surprise.

See what I mean? By the end, the heroine's entire infrastructure for her life has been systematically dismantled piece by piece, until she has literally nothing and no one left but the hero. She even essentially loses her job, though she manages to have created a new, better one by the epilogue. It got me thinking about Old Skool Romances, and how they'd start out with the heroine orphaned and fleeing from her diabolical Uncle or something similar.

Is this an intentional choice on the part of certain writers? "I'll cut her adrift and that'll make the h/h bond that much stronger." Or is it just how everything happened to shake out? Has anyone out there done this to some of their heroines? And if so, why?

(There's no judgment in this, just a kind of craft-oriented curiosity. [It's very seldom lately I can read a book and completely turn off the craft radar.])

triumph!

2009-08-24T01:56:00.004+02:00

I have cream color tile in my kitchen and dinning room. (And cream colored carpet. With three boys! God help me.) For nearly three years, it's been the bane of my existence. No matter how many times I mopped, that damn grout never came clean. I hit it up with Ajax and a scrub brush, cleanser and sponge. None of it worked. I'd nearly given up hope, and seriously considered having the grout replaced.

Turns out, given an entire bottle of bleach, an old toothbrush, and a roll and a half of paper towels, I can clean the grout!

If anyone knows of a better method...

Don't tell me unless you're also providing a time machine so I can get three fucking hours of my life back. Thanks.

My pretties may not be your pretties....

2009-07-27T16:13:00.005+02:00

As a result of my husband's gun hobby, I find myself in gun stores way more often than one would expect, knowing me. About a week ago, the husband and I stopped by his "bookstore." I first went into the pawn shop next door (around here, there seems to be a rule that where there's a pawn shop, there's a gun store) and scored a cheap copy of Deadwood Season 2. Win!

So I went back over to the gun area and hung out with the husband as he poked around and oohed and aahed over things. Romantic suspense writers take note: How's a 100 round magazine for a 9mm pistol sound? Insane, right? It's weird, this double-drum shaped thing. Look it up.

Anyway, the owner of the place is a pretty cool guy. Ex-Special Forces, a bit of a smart ass. Apologizes to me when he cusses. It's funny. He comes over to DH and me to show off some hand stippling he did on a .45 pistol. (Turns the whole hand grip and the barrel into non-slip. It's prickly in the hand, but not irritating.)

Owner sees my not-exactly-brand new copy of Deadwood and we exchange some "So Awesome!" Then....oh, then....he pops the question: "Do you want to see my Colt Single Action?"

Yes, please!

Naturally the history geek in me went Whheeee! But more than that, the gun itself was surprisingly elegant in my hand. I'm only 5'3" and of relatively small build. But I could hold it easily. The recoil might break my wrist, but hey, aim low and it's all good.

One thing I hadn't noticed when I'd seen pictures of Colts before - the swirly/smudgy looking area on the casing. Here, a close up of it:

That's not just a sign of age, or poor care (both of which I'd thought based on pictures.) It's intentional, the result of mixing alloys to harden the casing. And more than that, it's pretty in person. I'd almost go so far as to say beautiful. Just one more example of why book and internet research doesn't always cut it.

And yes, this is all filed away for future writing. :)

RWA Nationals

2009-07-23T22:05:00.003+02:00

I promised this yesterday, didn't I? Ahem. Whoops. Just think of it as a delightful extension to the expansive RWA Nationals Conference.

Over all, I'd have to say it was an incredibly different experience than last year. That's not to say either was better or worse than the other, just....different.

Last year, I was goggle-eyed and focused on sucking in all the knowledge possible. This year, I felt a lot more laid back and I'd have to say my focus was on doing all the network I possibly could.

It was so wonderful seeing old friends, especially my roommates Carrie Lofty and Ann Aguirre. And I met quite a few people in RL that I'd only known previously from the web. Most surreal experience? Having my name recognized a couple times by people I didn't know - once as a result of Twitter, and once from my involvement with "The Italian Gourmet-Baby-Food Baron." (And she did not say "Oh em gee, wtf did you make her a valium addict for?" Was honestly nervous about that.)

Get this - to some people, I'm considered seasoned, and a pro! Who the hell have I managed to kid so well with this act? I met several wet beind the ears women who haven't even finished books, and one whose story was still "in her head." She hadn't even started writing yet, and had still shelled out the cash to go to Nationals, just to see if she wanted to write. More power to her, but I can't even fathom doing that.

The absolute best, best, best part of the whole trip? Meeting my editor, the fabulous Lindsey McGurk. We had an appointment for Friday, but I ended up actually meeting her on Thursday evening, at a party for Tessa Dare. (Her debut is an OMG amazing book, btw. It's still sitting on my night stand 2 weeks after I finished it, simply because I like having it near. What's that tell you?) I ended up staying way longer than I intended to at the party, because I got wrapped up in a discussion on digital publishing with some really smart women - of whom Lindsey was one. We still met the next morning, as well, and I walked away with a boatload of stuff to consider when starting my next work.

But before that, I've got to come up with a synopsis for my current WIP, 'cause my Friday meeting with a Harlequin Blaze editor netted me a partial request. (While this is great, I'm plagued by the self doubt that I think pushes most of us writers to do better every work. Only a partial? I asked myself. Last year I got a full request...but from a different editor.) Now I'm 600 words into the synopsis and I think I've covered only about 20 pages of the book. Not good. Back to the grindstone it is. Oh well. To paraphrase: easier to edit crap than edit nothing.

Mi Vida Loca (Did I spell that right?)

2009-07-22T03:29:00.003+02:00

I'm not sure I can explain how effing wild the past three weeks have been.

Good news first: I got an offer on my 1920s romance from Samhain.

OMG, right?

Naturally, I jumped on that bad boy with both feet. I have so much respect for Samhain, and the writers and editors that work there, it's insane.

I'm going to be an e-published author come March or April. And it'll be out in print in early 2011. I'm going to hold one of my books in hand.

For me, that's not a goal but a milestone. Another step in the road of a long career. The joy is hard to express.

Otherwise, I've had some craziness going on. My husband had ankle surgery. Minor stuff, and actually something he needed to improve his every day quality of life. We have yet to see if it's actually done what's needed, though. The bad news attached to that is our moving date's moved back. Currently we're looking at October, but who knows, really. It's the Army. There's no guessing. So we're stuck in a sort of limbo.

But tomorrow, RWA Nationals round up!

Ok, so maybe I am.

2009-06-23T13:44:00.004+02:00

(Don't tell anyone I'm actually blogging twice in a row. It'll be our little secret.)

Last night, the husband and our two oldest boys got it in their heads to go picking through a couple old boxes of pictures. They came across some of mine from middle and high school. (They're really bad-picture gold. If I remember to bring them in to work to scan, I might post one or two.) Giggling, my 8 year old tells me I was a nerd.

I shrugged and told him there's nothing wrong with being a nerd. (I restrained myself from saying, "The Geek shall inherit the earth." It was a stretch. I was proud of myself.)

A few minutes later, he holds a picture up and says, "See? You look like such a nerd."

"I don't get what's nerdy about that one." I took the snapshot and examined it. "I'm in your father's barracks room, and I'm even wearing his t-shirt." I squinted at the picture, tilted it a little to the side.

"What are you doing?" the husband asked.

"I'm trying to see what book that is in my hand."

"God," he laughed. "You really are a nerd."

(For the record, it was Send No Flowers, by Sandra Brown.)

Damn, they got me good

2009-06-22T00:39:00.000+02:00

I swept in the door after work, arms filled with junk food for the family. As I handed out chicken nuggets and fries, the husbandly type told me I had a book on the counter. Sweet! I was only expecting one book, Victoria Dahl's new one, and it even came a day earlier than the shipping estimate. With the husband going out tonight for his volunteer firefighter's meeting, I'd have a solid couple hours of quiet to read.

I sat down on the couch with my food and the Amazon package and zipped open the tab. It was the wrong book! Even worse, it was a book I already had and had read dozens of times, so it wasn't like I was getting a freebie. (For the curious, the book was The Gunslinger, by Stephen King.)

I cussed and moaned, and the husband commiserated, asking what I'd have to do now. "Email them, tell them what happened," I said. "They'll probably just send another."

I was pretty bummed. Glumly, I bit into my hamburger - which had evil pickles on it, even. Obviously this wasn't turning out to be my night.

I became aware that the oldest child was hovering over my shoulder, smirking at me. I looked at him. He looked at my bookshelf. Back and forth a few times. Finally, I got up. Inspected the shelves. (It took a minute, I've got stuff double and triple stacked on there.)

There, on its side and bottom out, was Start Me Up. They'd switched out the books!

What brats I've got in my life.

Every so often. . .

2009-05-29T14:38:00.005+02:00

. . . I need a reminder of what I already know.

As some of you may or may not know, I got to write "The End" on the rough draft of my newest WIP not too long ago. But because I'm a member of the "shitty first draft" club, that doesn't mean I'm done. Not by a long shot.

Even though it was rough, I booted it off to my crit partners (who I <3 with enormity) and they filled my head with all sorts of nooks and crannies to flesh out.

And yet I've still been picking at it. Focusing on teeny things rather than the big picture issues I need to address. Mostly, I couldn't get past the rewrite I needed to do of the opening scene. There's stuff I didn't "discover" about the hero until mid-way through the book, and I need to layer that in too. But it wasn't moving. I'd write four words, then delete three of 'em. Couldn't figure out what was wrong.

Then I saw this post on Kristin Nelson's blog this morning.

She been at BEA and participated in a Pitch Slam. About the entries, she says, "most opening scenes had nothing at stake."

Well, shit. That's what's wrong.

Now, see, I know that. I know you have to start when everything changes, when there's important stuff going on. But somehow I accidentally wrote my opening as a "look, we're in the Old West" scene. Crappity. Oh delete, how I loathe and love thee.

Hopefully I can get to the editing with a quickness now.

These people breed?

2009-05-26T16:38:00.002+02:00

My oldest kid's sick. Flu bug apparently, because he's puking up and got a fever. I'd say poor dude, but he's been granted special dispensation to hang out in my room all day to avoid the toddler menaces.

But I called the advice nurse at my clinic, on the recommendation of my boss, who was all "Ack! Swine flu!" (I was more "Huh. If he needs a doc appointment, I get out of work for a few hours.")

Nurse: Has he kept any fluids down?

Me: Well, I left for work at seven, but before that, no.

Nurse: Is anyone home with him?

Me: *blink. blink. wha-huh?* Yeah. His nanny.

'Cause even if someone was that bloody stupid, they'd admit it? "Oh, sure, I left a vomiting 8 year old with little self control home alone. Thought it'd make a great slap-stick adventure, ya know?"

"Cheating" heros?

2009-05-20T17:28:00.002+02:00

I've always maintained a hero who sleeps with someone other than the heroine doesn't bother me, dependant on the situation. Primarily, the hero/heroine aren't "together." They're not dating, they're not screwing, they're especially not married. A hero who's just met the young, dumb ingenue at a ball, then visits his long time mistress that evening? Doesn't bother me. A hero who thinks his love is lost forever and futilely attempts to bury his pain in the arms of another woman? ::::cough:::DerekCravenAnyone?::::cough::: It's all good.

Being in love doesn't render a man's dick un-inflatable for all but the magical hoo-ha. Sorry, but it's true.

(On a tangent, how much would I totally love seeing the reverse of this? A heroine who meets the hero, but still keeps an appointment with her regular fuck buddy that night? Oh the brain melting possibilities of that.)

Which brings me to my current reading, a historical romance. Early in the book, before there's any real connection between h/h, the hero mentally references having recently been to a brothel. No biggie, I'm fine with that. A third of the way in, the h/h are developing a bit of a relationship, but it's not *that* deep. A couple kisses, heavy flirting, that's it.

The heroine catches the hero coming out of a brothel, and even sees him in the arms of his hooker of choice. The next day, she confronts him about this and tells him how it hurt.

And he is absolutely fucking dismissive of her. He apologizes once, and by the very next page is flouncing off, calling her frigid and unforgiving for not letting it go already. Did you catch that part about how this was less than one page after the apology? He runs away to war, and the next time he even thinks of her (like 15 pages later) his ONLY thoughts revolve around how he wished they'd had a chance to bang. Not one speck of care about her emotional or mental state, or even regret that she'd been hurt, at the very least, even if he didn't regret screwing the hooker.

You know what, dude? Take your toys and go home. I don't care. I would take a "cheating" hero over one who's disdainful of the heroine any fucking day.

I don't know that I care where the mighty wang goes. But I can never, ever believe in an HEA for a relationship without respect.

It's practically one of the entry rules

2009-05-08T20:42:00.002+02:00

If you have a blog, you mention your Golden Heart scores when you get them. So here we go:

I only had one entry, Jazz Baby, my 1920s set book.

Judge 1: 7.8
Judge 2: 9 (Woot!!)
Judge 3: 6.5
Judge 4: 5.4 (*sob* Ok, not really, but there's a pout in there.)
Judge 5: 8.5

Final Score: 37.20

According to the letter, the cut off for the finalists was 37.80, meaning I was 0.5 away from making the grade. It also breaks down to a 7.40 average. Is this good? I have no idea. I guess I'll have to wait 'til everyone else posts their scores too, and see how I measure up.

I can tell you, it made me feel better. The letter has come on the end of a rather disheartening week of writing oriented stuff, and it managed to perk me up. I'm good with being in the second quarter for now, especially considering this was my first full-length work. (So yeah, I had a bit of the hubris in submitting it, I know. I'm nothing if not ambitious.) In a year or two, no it won't be good enough.

But for now? I think a mini-celebration might be in order.

God what an awful movie. . .

2009-03-22T17:22:00.004+01:00

A friend and I ran away to the movies last night, to see Duplicity. Man, was that a piece of crap.

The impression I got from the commercials was that the emphasis was on the Roberts/Owen relationship, kind of a romantic comedy type vibe. Not so much. It was trying for that Ocean's 12 vibe where you're supposed to get as involved with all the little players doing all their little bits in this spy game. But it failed. Pretty sadly. Mostly because the rest of the team couldn't hold up their end against Roberts and Owen - and don't get me wrong, when it was just those two alone on the screen, the movie started to pop. But they didn't get enough time. So already the movie was kinda blah.

And then. . .

Oh, and then. . .

Roberts' character is supposed to be this hard-ass ex-CIA spy on the top of her game. She's supposed to be damn good and she's the one who hatches this plan for her and Owen to score $40 million. Owen has to play kissy face with some chick at one point, and Roberts, in her under-cover position, is shown the pictures. She goes all white-faced and clenched throat and I was DONE. We walked out. Bad enough the plot's all muddled. (I kept thinking, but if this were a book, where would it be *shelved*? And couldn't come up with a straight answer.) But you screw with the characterization and there's no point for me. Roberts's character knew the game. Hell, she was running it. You expect me to believe she's gonna get all "WTFery" and jealous because Owen was playing his part?

Oh, and as I was writing this today, I couldnt' for the effing life of me remember either character's names, either. Yeah, over all quite the impression.

Anyway, the 7 bucks was almost worth it, just for the Public Enemies trailer. I think I wet my pants when I saw it. I'll leave it up to you to decide what type of wet:

Ah, Twitter, feeding my neurosis. . .

2009-03-11T00:49:00.002+01:00

I'm addicted to Twitter. Like I really needed something else, right? But Twitter's most awesome 'cause I have this cool app for my phone, so I can actually stay connected during the day. Yay-ness.

Anyway, I'm following a bunch of people, but among them is an agent I've queried. Oh god. Every time the agent tweets about her query pile, my stomach takes a tumble. And I immediately scurry off to check my email. Doesn't matter if all she says is that she finally managed to get the pile under 500. (Btw, 500? *boggle* Thank christ I'm not an agent.) I'm off like a Chihuahua that's gotten into the coffee beans.

Oh, and let me take a minute here for a slightly tangential topic - the agent I queried participated in the inagural Twitter #queryfail. And I loved watching it. And I couldn't give a damn if she and the rest of the participants are considered Mean Girls (and Boys) because really? I'm not always a nice person. I'd rather have an agent I could actually relate to and who tells it to me straight than one who feels it necessary to couch everything in sweetness and light.

Look at me getting waaayyy ahead of myself. Like I've got an agent already.

Oh look, I'm going to wander off topic again. I love that so many agents are e-query friendly. It's awesome. And I've queried a bunch already (I'm not disclosing the number, that's kind of like disclosing the number of sexual partners you've had. Everyone's happier if you don't.). A *huge* percentage ask that you include some number of pages in the body of the email. I even get, and appreciate that. But there's this tiny little part of me that wonders. . . would I have gotten more requests for partials by now if it weren't for that? 'Cause at this point, it's hard to tell if it's my query or my ms that's getting the fails so far.

*sigh*

Me, a neurotic person? Ya don't say.

Tell me where I went wrong

2009-03-03T17:53:00.002+01:00

.....

Oh screw it.

Can't describe the problem without saying too much about my job.

*headdesk*

These people suck sometimes. Suffice it to say, a "file" can be more than one type of document. Just so ya know. And I don't need a five minute lecture with the micromanaging details of my entire task again, just because you didn't know what I was talking about when I said "file."

Oh whatever!

2009-02-25T00:51:00.002+01:00

Unfortunately, email is an imprecise form of communication because it can be impossible to tell if someone’s being sarcastic or tongue-in-cheek sometimes without seeing/hearing them speak.

I hate this cop-out. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Email is imprecise? Really now? Email is writing. Email is a letter sent electronically, that's it. And letters have been a form of communication for millennia.

Somehow, I don't see a mid-sixteenth century writer needing a smiley face, or a LOL in his letters to get his amusement across. I don't think I've seen a *G* in any source materials I've gotten a glimpse of. Yet they got their points across clearly. Just because you're writing with a keyboard and not a quill doesn't mean you can't do the same thing.

My emails, bulletin board posts, and other internet wanderings have very seldom been misconstrued. Usually it's only in IMs that I'm taken wrong, and usually because I tossed out something without thinking it through. Very rarely, some underlying emotion that I'd hoped to concealed comes through, but I can't really think of a single incident where someone got me all the way wrong. If I don't know how to say it right, I don't freaking say it at all.

And really, to see this kind of excuse spill out of the mouth of a writer? Bull-fucking-shit. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. Because the day an editor lets *LOL* and *G* fill a book is the day I shove all my manuscripts under the bed and quit writing.

(And yes, this post is in response to a thread I saw out dere on teh interwebz, in a location I won't be pointing out. I didn't post this there because the author in question is totally fanning the flames all on her little-ole-own. Far be it from me to hand her extra kindling.)

From Here to Eternity

2009-02-20T17:09:00.005+01:00

The IMDB summary, because I'm a lazy little fuck:

It's 1941. Robert E. Lee Prewitt has requested Army transfer and has ended up at Schofield in Hawaii. His new captain, Dana Holmes, has heard of his boxing prowess and is keen to get him to represent the company. However, 'Prew' is adamant that he doesn't box anymore, so Captain Holmes gets his subordinates to make his life a living hell. Meanwhile Sergeant Warden starts seeing the captain's wife, who has a history of seeking external relief from a troubled marriage. Prew's friend Maggio has a few altercations with the sadistic stockade Sergeant 'Fatso' Judson, and Prew begins falling in love with social club employee Lorene. Unbeknownst to anyone, the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor looms in the distance. Written by Ed
Sutton {esutton@mindspring.com}

First off, check this guy out:

Montgomery Clift as Prew. Holy god, that's a good looking man. And after about ten minutes of Clift's screen time, I thought "Holy damn, that's Micah!" (The hero from my 20s manuscript.) Not the character and personality so much, but the prettyness and the liquid way he moves. Sigh. Naturally I'd find Micah after I'd finished the book and have it out on queries. Might have to do a little refining to make sure I hit what I intended, though.

Anyway. On to the movie.

I went in expecting the worst, for me at least. A non-happy ending. I can handle them sometimes if I'm prepared and if the emotional payoff is high enough. With Prew and Lorene's story line, I got it. High drama death and tradgedy. Prew has a mindset that I've actually seen in quite a few soldiers - they might not quite fit the mold of the super-soldier, they might not have what it takes to actually make it in the Army, but by god do they love it there.

First Sergeant Warden and Karen, Captain Holme's wife. Grr. Pissed me off to no end. It wasn't the adultery. That's not a hard line for me, at all. And then they so demonized CPT Holmes, probably to make it ok with the viewing audience at the time, that the adultery barely even hit my radar. It was the end of their relationship that pissed me off to hell and gone. They call it off because Warden "loves the Army too much" and Karen will always play second fiddle to it.

"What the fuck?" I said as I sat up in bed. "That is bullshit!"

Let's take a wild guess why this pissed me off and why I found it so unbelievable, eh?

But that's not even my biggest problem with their character arc. The biggest problem for me - the fact that I didn't believe the end meant I suddenly didn't believe the entire arc of their story. Which meant for me, half the movie was wasted. Oh fun.

[Insert Evil Laugh Here]

2009-02-19T02:27:00.003+01:00

When I got home tonight, I told my older two boys that the living room, dining room, and kitchen needed to be cleared of all their toys and other items. I wasn't yelling, I wasn't nagging, and if this didn't happen, anything still laying about when they went to bed would be thrown out. They said okay, picked up a bit, then got distracted.

I just did the clean up. Among the items found:

Wii remote and nun-chuck.
Oldest boy's favorite video game.
Middle child's lunchbox (the Speed Racer one he loves so much.)
All the crayons.
Oldest boy's favorite pillow.
Half their walkie talkie set.

And many, many more. Enough to fill up a kitchen trash bag.

I do believe I'm going to have two little slaves working for me this weekend, if they have a snowball's chance in hell of getting these things back.

I wonder what I'll have them do. . .

Hey look, I'm apparently the worst mother in the world!

2009-02-16T17:54:00.002+01:00

I met a friend for breakfast and by the time I got to Wal-Mart to do my grocery shopping I absolutely had to use the bathroom. So I plopped my 20 month old in a buggy, strapped him in and planted the cart right outside the stall I was using. I could directly see him - in fact, we were making faces at each other. No biggie, right?

I finished my business, and when I came out to wash my hands, no one was there. By the time I turned around with a wet paper towel to wash the breakfast crusties off the baby's face, there was a woman standing in the outside door, the one to the main store. Based on the blue of her shirt and the color of her hair, I was pretty sure I'd seen her come and go while I was still in the stall. (And she didn't wash her hands, either.) Her arms were crossed and she was scowling as she stared at me. Hello negative body language, what's this about?

"Just so you know," she said, "I could have stolen your baby and been gone in a second."

Excuse me? Is she seriously starting this with me? But all I said, and rather calmly I thought, was "I could see him."

"That doesn't matter. By the time you got your pants up, I would have been gone." She started to say something else, but I cut her off.

"If someone was stealing my kid, I wouldn't care about my pants." And then I turned my back on her. I've found that while people really, really don't like when you do that, it often effectively ends confrontations. It seemed to this time, too, leaving my cheeks hot and my stomach churning with rage.

It actually wasn't over though. When I left the bathroom, we passed each other again. "Just so you know," she snipped, "in my job that's called neglect and we could have cited you in an instant."

What I wanted to say was "Well then cite me." My mouth even started to form the words. I bit it back though, choosing the high road (and the path of least resistance.) But I'm still obsessing over the sanctimonious bitch. (I've mulled over her "my job" line and I now have this image of her as a secretary for Child Services, knowing just enough to be dangerous.)

Seriously, who did she think she was? And really, I have no problem with what I did. I chose having him in my line of sight over having a curious fingered toddler in a public restroom stall. I would have had absolutely no compunction with rushing out of that stall, pants around my ass, screaming my fool head off if someone tried to snatch my kid right in front of my eyes.

Oh fuck it. I'm still pissed, so I can't really process the thoughts I have going on, which seem to revolve around "Really? That's the worst she's ever seen a mother do in public? Get over it."

Because easy content is awesome. . . .

2009-02-07T02:24:00.002+01:00

I thiefed this meme from Carrie Lofty.

1. Tell me about the book that has been on your shelves the longest.

It's a tie between The Diary of Ann Frank and Little Women. I remember reading both sitting at the edge of the playground of a private school I attended for only two years, 4th and 5th grade. Me and my spotty memory can't agree on which year it was. Both are even older than that - Ann Frank belonged to my god mother and Little Women was my mother's. And lemme tell ya, they both look it. Too many re-readings has them falling into pieces.

Funny story: Ann Frank was in rough shape when I got ahold of her, so I actually bought a replacement at a book fair in 5th grade. I had in my lap during my Spanish class, sneak-reading, when I apparently missed the teacher calling on me. So he snatched it out of my hands and ripped it in two. I think it was my first inkling (after being raised by two book worshipers) that not everyone treated books with the same adoration I did.

2. Tell me about a book that reminds you of something specific in your life.

Every time I read Stranger in a Strange Land, it reminds me of the epic road trips I took with my mom the summer I was 13. I'd grown up in California, in mostly urban areas, and here I was now tucked in the back seat as she looked for somewhere quiet and rural to move us to. We ended up moving to Montana for a year. Talk about a strange land.

3. Tell me about a book you acquired in some interesting way.

Maybe the huge coffee table book on Barbie that I insisted on when I was following my godfather around at A Different Light? From my adult status I recognise it was probably aimed at drag queens, with it's glamorous pictures of both authentic and re-dressed Barbies, but then all I knew was that it was Barbie. And huge. And pretty.

4. Tell me about a book that has been with you to the most places.

I took no books with me to Korea (shocking, I know), but everything else has been dragged around with me. So at least four different homes in California, a year in Montana, a couple sojourns in North Carolina and Italy.

5. Tell me about the most recent addition to your shelves.

I picked up Something Wicked by Julie Leto today. And honestly, I may DNF it and pass it on to a friend. It's got witches in it, and they're the one paranormal I can't stand. All the hand waving and woo-woo? It's not detached enough from reality (I have friends who are wiccan) for me to buy it. Really, when you're picking up a Blaze, there ought to be something in the blurb that lets you know it's got witches (or vampire, or what ever's not contemporary sexxoring) in it.

I'm over there --->

2009-02-03T14:55:00.002+01:00

*Today's long-weekends-make-me-PC-stoopid-note: Control + Click does not get me copy/paste, etc.*

I think it's pretty obvious this blog's been neglected. As a result, I think two people read it at this point. Not even my bff - she lost the link, and didn't see the point of relinking if I wasn't going to post. Heh. Don't hardly blame her.

(Though I wouldn't want to say this too loudly, for fear of cursing myself in some way, but I've really been doing better lately!)

Anyhoo.

If I have a half-assed idea about a post actually being read by more than one point five souls, I have to get someone else to post it for me. Like Katiebabs has so kindly done for my thoughts on Lisa Kleypas' Devil in Winter.

And no, I don't think it's going to win me any friends. *evil grin*

On second thought, maybe these topics don't go together

2009-02-02T17:48:00.003+01:00

But oh well.

*Note to self. File ->New Tab does not exist on the work computer. Stoopid long weekends*

Hi everyone who followed linkage! Hot, ain't he? I dug back where I found it, and I'm pretty sure the model's name is Lance LaMar. Not sure who the photographer is. If anyone knows, I'd love to be able to credit. (And I will *so* be tracking back tonight, when I'm home. I know those pics will be so much better when they're not one inch by two inches on my phone screen. Plus well thought out, educated commentary. Double win!)

Anyway.

On to things much less exciting than hot guys in rope.

So I've got a friend who's going to be a first time daddy very shortly. In between talking him down from ledges (no, two centimeters does not mean she's about to go into labor any second), I've been shopping for his baby girl. (Lucky bastard. First shot, he gets a girl. I'm stuck with three boys.) He tells me they still don't have a shopping cart cover, so like a good friend, that's what I go looking for.

But honestly? I don't get the deal with these. They weren't around for my firt two kids, and by the time I had the third, I was pretty set in my routine, plus I was all for minimizing the excess crap I dragged around. And more than half the time, they were asleep from the ride in the car to get to the store. Like hell was I waking them up. Don't trust the cleanliness of carts? Leave the baby in their car seat, snap that to the top. Less hassle for everyone.

But at least I get to buy one with pink in the pattern.

Some day this will qualify as a "real" job

2009-01-30T03:35:00.007+01:00

As in, I'm getting paid for it.

One of the fun things about being a romance writer? Flipping through the intratubez for pictures of hot guys? It's called research.

Let me introduce you to the hero of my current WIP:

This one makes me want to get back into writing erotica. The things I could do to that man. . . er, have the heroine do, I mean:

But the really funny thing is that when I start surfing for hot inspiration pics, I always end up somewhere else in my head. In last night's exploration? I started wondering where a woman would have had to have traveled or what she would have done to have a tattoo in the Old West. I mean she's otherwise respectable and sedate, but under her bloomers. . .

Huh. Might have to scribble down something about her in my future possibilities file.

SYTYCD Australia!

2009-01-30T01:32:00.006+01:00

Last fall Carrie Lofty got me all kinds of obsessed with So You Think You Can Dance - Canada, and a certain yummy, uber talented dancer. *happy sigh* It's back! Well, almost that is. Sunday is the season premiere of SYTYCD Australia! Woot!

And yes, this is partly an excuse to post this:

Sweet Jesus, that look.

Woops!

2009-01-30T01:22:00.003+01:00

I'm the type of person who sticks to a routine. I order one of two things at Starbucks every time. I go in the same door of the mall every time. I stick to the same Bath and Body Works fragrance for months and months at a time. I go in the same door of the same WalMart every time I go grocery shopping. I park in the same parking lot, in the same row, at my office every morning. Routine, you know? It works for me.

Today, my office went out for our monthly luncheon. Coming back to our building after lunch is always a hassle. There's not enough parking, especially since they put in the new JAG building across the parking lot. Seriously, who thought that one through? I ended up having to park on the other side of the building from where I normally do. When I got up to the office, I even joked to a co-worker someone would have to remind me of where my car was before I left for the night.

I bet you see where this is going, don't you?

I lost my car.

Went out the wrong door (which is even on the wrong floor), and got halfway to the lot when I realized I couldn't see my car. And stopped. And blinked for a second, trying to figure out. . . Oh yeah. It's over there.

Whereupon I had to turn around, and go right back in the building, in front of two soldiers who gave me very strange looks. I don't really blame them.

Maybe I need to rethink this whole routine thing.

TIGBFB

2009-01-20T03:06:00.002+01:00

Just when you thought you'd heard the end of The Italian Gourmet-Baby-Food Baron's Ironically Pregnant Virgin Mistress!

Our lovely Carrie Lofty has put it all in one convenient, easily download-your-own-copy place. You cannot help yourself, you must get your own copy!

What we do for fashion

2009-01-18T19:15:00.003+01:00

Friday I went shopping with a friend and picked up this really, really great outfit. Grey tweed pencil skirt, red 40s inspired blouse with this skinny patent leather belt. And to match, I just had to have these super-adorable black patent leather, peep-toe heels. They've got just a hint of platform to the toes, to make the heel seem even higher. Seriously, I think this outfit's one of my favorites I've bought in a long, long time. If it still fits, I'm definitely taking it with me to Nationals (if I get to go).

Oh, but the shoes.

I'm having to practice walking in the shoes.

I've got them on now, around the house as I make the boy's lunches and chase herd on the little one. Not only do I have to remember how to walk, my poor feet are wondering what in the world I'm doing to them!

And yet I used to wear heels just like these, or sometimes even higher, several days a week. More than that, I wore them to work, where I was on my feet the entire shift *and* the half mile to and from the BART station, twice a day. Plus I then went partying with all my college friends after work.

How in the hell did I manage that?

Chapter Eight!

2008-12-22T18:28:00.004+01:00

Presenting the final installment of: The Italian Gourmet-Baby-Food Baron's Ironically Pregnant Virgin Mistress.

(Everyone please ignore the fact that I'm about to hurl with nerves at having to go last on this project. I mean srsly? Having to follow up the amazingly hilarious crew who's gone before me? OMG, pressure! :D )

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

~8~
Charity gasped awake, shrinking desperately against the filthy wall. A looming, ominously dark shadowy man filled the doorway. Undoubtedly it was Mr. Bambinioni, come to wreak his terrible revenge before the fighting overhead prevented him. What could she do if he ripped her blouse away? She’d have no choice but to submit to his lascivious demands. Should her body betray her by responding, it would only be due to her thoughts of Cesar, her one and only love, and her cherished memories of his strong, manly body.

But no! Her gaze was drawn to the betraying bulge in his trousers. It was Cesar, come to rescue them!

He stepped over her tiny, yet still slenderly curvy legs and bent down to the babies. “Mama mia, mi bambinos! How glad I am to see you safe!”

“Voi figlio-di-battona! Che cosa ha preso così lungamente?” groused Marvel.

“Oh, you adorable thing. So brilliant!” Cesar tousled his riotous titian curls. “Just like your papa, though not so much like your mama. But at least she is beautiful, si?”

Charity’s breath caught in her throat like an unchewed piece of apple. Cesar still thought her beautiful, even though she’d been abducted and manhandled by such villains. Her soul sang with joy, the thumping bass beat of Kanye West driving her aching heart.

Cesar scooped Miracle and Marvel into his strong left arm, then turned to Charity. He picked her up with his free right arm and cradled her small, delicate body just like a third baby. Not his baby, though, because that might be a little creepy.

“Oh, Cesar,” she breathed, daring oh so bravely to trace her fingers over his thick wrist and the sprinkling of dark hair there. “How ever did you find us? It must have been so difficult.”

He chuckled as he went up the stairs, carrying their small family out into the brilliant sunshine. Charity winced against the reflection of the sun’s blinding rays off the crushed diamond pathways, then tucked her face into the immense planes of his chest.

“Oh, it was easy, mia prostituta dolce. After all, I have every millimeter of this estate wired for both sound and video! Even all twenty-two bathrooms. Not to watch my guests in their private activities, because that would be strange, not manly, but for security purposes!”

“But then wh-” Charity choked off her ungrateful question like she were choking a chicken. He’d rescued them, that was all that mattered. Not how long it took. She should count herself lucky he hadn’t left her to fester in that damp basement, at the mercy of Mr. Bambionini’s rough hands, with only sub-par baby foods to eat. Still, she couldn’t help but say, “I heard the helicopters leave.”

“Of course you did,” Cesar replied.

His voice rumbled through her body where she was tucked up against his side, sending unwanted trembles of pleasure through her flesh. This wasn’t the time, nor the place for Charity to be overwhelmed by her own whorish nature. Her gaze tried to drop to the bulge behind his trousers, but she found only her own knees and the pink, precious toes of her babies. Well, they were surely pink and precious beneath the layer of grey and green goop.

“The helicopters were merely a diversionary tactic,” Cesar continued, as his long, thick legs strode up the miles of garden paths toward his magnificent house.

“So Mr. Bambionini wouldn’t know you and your men were about to swoop in and rescue us? Oh, Cesar you’re so amazingly smart.”

“I know, mia cara. But that’s not what I meant. It was so I would have time to prepare this.”

One of Cesar’s half dozen assistants darted in front of them and threw open the monstrously tall doors to reveal an indoor, magical, winter fairyland. Every surface was draped in jewel encrusted evergreen boughs, or had thick, white candles, which lent the room a pale yellow glow. Charity wondered how many candles it had taken to light the enormous room, which was half the size of a football field. And how long would it take her to scrape up all the fallen wax tomorrow? At one end, flanked by two massive fireplaces, was a Christmas tree that stretched nearly all the way to the ceiling. Myriad jars of Machismo Gourmet Baby Foods dangled from thick branches by way of glistening ribbons, as ornaments.

What could this mean? Had Cesar discovered her secret hatred of the commercialism of Christmas and designed this scene to torment her? Of course not, since she’d never breathed a word of how she felt about the holidays, knowing it would brand her a heathen trollop who didn’t deserve to have such beautiful babies. Heavens forfend, it could even get her two precious children taken away, surely!

So Cesar thought he was making a grand gesture. Though he’d always think her a gold digging whore, she’d take what she could get, even if that meant faking a love for the sickening pseudo sweetness of the Christmas season. What could she do? She had no choice, for to tell Cesar how much she hated the 25th of December would be equivalent to saying she hated him, which was not at all true.

“I knew you would be speechless,” Cesar smirked. He handed the Miracle and Marvel off to an assistant with brisk orders to have them evaluated by a male doctor. Then he carried Charity to their bedroom and deposited her on the enormous four-poster bed. Her gaze was drawn to the betraying bulge in his trousers. “You are not ready for that yet, mia cara. Soon, however, I will satiate your powerful lust.” His voice was rough edged, yet tender in a way she’d never heard from him before. “First, you will be examined fully, so that I may know the full extent you have been sullied.”

A fiery blush pillaged her skin, much like Cesar soon would with his demanding caresses. “But I haven’t – that is, he didn’t –“

“Per meravaglia, I understand, with your tender sensibilities you do not wish to reveal the truth. It is ok, the doctor is right here.” He stepped out of the room, allowing a short, round man to enter past him.

The doctor was as kind as possible, searching every inch of her body, and apologizing all along. Charity didn’t understand why. What could she do? She had no choice but to allow herself to be checked like a run away puppy. Finally, the doctor gave her a small pill and beseeched her to swallow it with a draught of cool water from the crystal glass beside the bed.

“What was that?” Charity asked, after she’d taken it.

“Valium. You needed it after such a traumatic day. I’ve left a bottle right here for you, and I’ll refill it any time you like. Just call.” He stuffed his stethoscope away in his black doctor’s bag and muttered, “I’m sure you’ll need plenty, living with him.”

She blinked, confused at what he could mean. Any woman would be lucky to live with Cesar. She was blessed that he would have any interest at all in her coltish, too-teeny self. The doctor let himself out, and Cesar swept past him, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Mi inamorato, are you ready to hear my declarations?”

“As you wish, Cesar.” Now he would berate her. She should have fought off the cruel men who had abducted her and the babies. As punishment, he would send her away to some horrible place. She wouldn’t even be lucky enough to scrub floors. She’d be forced to actually work as a nurse, away from her poor, sweet babies and without the loving support of any man. How could a woman survive like that? It was horrid to think of.

“I have decided to keep you right next to my side forever! I will dazzle you with an amazing Christmas display each and every year, each one grander and more lavish than the last! For you are not a whore, at least for no man but me. And you love me, I know you do!”

Charity gasped. It was so much more than she’d dared hope for! Cesar knew she loved him and was not disgusted! A lovely lassitude stole through her bones, much like how she used to feel when she smelled her beloved marker. She wondered briefly if it was due to the doctor’s little pill, then decided it had more to do with the soul-quaking love that wrapped through her.
“Cesar, it’s true! I love you. I love you more than I love Miracle and Marvel, even!”

Cesar gave a rough, masculine gasp, and put a hand to his heart, crisp dark hairs sprinkled over his wrist. “Don’t say such a thing! Our babies are the most precious bambinos in the world.”

“Of course, Cesar, I’m sorry.” She dropped her gaze, which was drawn to the betraying bulge in Cesar’s trousers. Was it healthy for a man to walk around like that all the time?

“Now that, I can help you with!” He bore her back into the massive piles of pillows, her narrow shoulders dwarfed by his, which were more than three times as wide. “I swear, by la Madre Santa, to satisfy your unnatural lusts! Forever!”

~Epilogue~

Christmas, One Year Later

Charity leaned back against a brocaded sofa in their large living room and shifted uncomfortably. The quail egged sized rubies set into the center of the embroidered flowers looked beautiful, but made for a painful seat. One seemed to be attempting to dig into her most delicate flesh, which was a bit tender after Cesar’s rough attentions the night before.

“Look, mama, look! It’s an impressive display, is it not?” asked Miracle, from where she and her brother were assisting Cesar in placing the custom made topper on the newest Christmas tree. They were up to three, in this room alone. Wonder and Vision, their three month old, newest set of twins, toddled unsteadily around the bottom of the ladder.

“Amazing, my sweet,” she cooed. She dug in her pocket for her pill bottle and rattled it before fishing one out to swallow dry. She was running low on her prescription. No worries, one call would solve that.

Cesar threw himself onto the seat next to her, pushing her over so that a ruby dug into her spine. “I fulfill all my promises, do I not, mia cara?”

“Certainly,” Charity murmured.

“Then know this! We will be just this happy, forever!”

“Oh, gee. That’s wonderful.”

The End

Ta-da!

2008-12-09T14:14:00.003+01:00

The cover!

The first chapter will be available on the 15th, at CJ's place!

The Italian Gourmet-Baby-Food Baron's Ironically Pregnant Virgin Mistress

2008-12-02T22:23:00.002+01:00

A new Harlequin parody is coming! And I got to play this time! I was so excited when I was told there was a chapter opening after all, I squeed like a four year old. Be thankful you didn't see it. Lemme tell you, writing badly on purpose is unbelievably fucking hard!

The co-conspirators: Tumperkin, Carolyn Jean, Ann Aguirre, Carrie Lofty, Bettie Sharpe, Meljean Brook, Kate Rothwell and lil' ole me!

And the blurb:

He needed children for an advertising campaign. . .

All Cesar Machismo wants is to ensure the bambinos of the world experience the flavor explosion of his company’s newest baby-food, Thai Shrimp in Peanut Dressing. But when he goes to an orphanage looking for a new spokes-baby, he finds twins with eyes the color of pureed Cornish game hens. Mama Mia! He must take them home!

What he got was a ready-made family!

Content with her lot in life, Chastity Bliss slaves for her stepmother at the orphanage. This way she stays with her babies, though she can never acknowledge them. When Cesar adopts her twins, she follows as their nanny. What can she do? She has no choice, because though he doesn’t know it . . .

Cesar is their father!

Vewy Intewesting. . .

2008-11-29T16:13:00.003+01:00

WalMart's not my favorite place for buying books, not by a long shot. But sometimes, it's just handy. God a passel of kids with me, no time for B&N, yet I'll pull my hair out by the roots if I don't read something soon? WalMart to the rescue!

About a week or two ago, I nearly had a heart-attack while walking through my local WalMart. The book section had been cut in half! We used to have a pretty big one, set in the front/middle of the store, but it had suddenly lost half its real estate to a money order center. Blech. I kept walking and gave a little mental sigh at what I thought was more proof of all the dire publishing predictions.

But I was on a mission for Thanksgiving oriented foods, so I didn't have time to stop and see what exactly had been cut to make space. Yesterday, I did. Biting my lip, I trudged over to see how much of Romance had been cut. Would I have to make the trek into B&N that much more often now?

Not at all. The area given to Romance hadn't shrunk one tiny bit. Dude. Half the shelf space lost, but Romance didn't give up a millimeter. That is so awesome I can't even describe.

3:10 to Yuma (Spoilers ahoy!)

2008-11-25T02:55:00.004+01:00

I've had it from Netflix for nearly a month now, sitting on my DVD player. Never quite got around to watching it. But this weekend, a friend on IM (That'd be Carrie Lofty. Her debut's the bomb and comes out in two weeks. Go buy it!) flashes me a picture of Christian Bale and says she's got a future character who'll look like him. Cool. Oughta get around to watching that, so I'm not just handing Netflix my money every month.

So I do. Took me five damn hours to see a two hour movie. Freaking kids.

Not the point.

I get to the end, and everything's sad and remarkable. (And omigod, the photography through the whole pic!) But you know who I really felt bad for, in the middle of that whole tragic ending? Charlie Price.

That's right, psychotic, murderous Charlie Price. I pitied him. He's unequivocally bad, unlike shades-of-grey Ben Wade. He's doing what he's always done, backing up his gang and taking quite a few souls along the way. And he and the rest of the outlaws are shot dead for their troubles, by their very own leader, Bed Wade. All because they had no idea of the mixed up journey Wade and Evans had been on together, and killed Evans. It was only what Price had always done! How awful must it have been to have his world yanked out from under him, with no warning? Killed by his friend and cohort for absolutely no reason that he could have understood at the time.

WTF?

2008-11-21T12:38:00.004+01:00

I cannot express how pissed I am about this:

Arassay Reyes has been kicked off So You Think You Can Dance Canada. This is fifteen levels of wrong. I got pissed off all over again watching this again this morning. The only bright spot for my poor, sick, 'shipper soul is how upset Nico gets when Arassay's announced. He pulls his hat down, then hides his face in an adorably boyish gesture. They are totally in lurve and there is a HEA in their future. (Or at the very least, they're doing the dirty, which also makes deprived-me very happy.)

I am absolutely not kidding when I say I will not watch Canada's SYTYCD next season if either Izaak or Natalli win. I will have absolutely no faith in Canadian viewers.

PS. At all military involved? Feel like torturing yourself? Watch this:

Where did this kid come from?

2008-11-13T00:45:00.001+01:00

My oldest kid's in second grade. He has a daily journaling assignment and today's was to write four questions. He's scribbling away when suddenly he asks "Mom, how do you spell existence?"

Huh?

I blink a couple times, then provide the answer.

Here's the questions he came up with:

What is the reson of humens?
What is the reson of erth?
What is the reson of the sun?
What is the reson of existence?

He can't spell for shit, but those are some humdinger questions. I guess I'm doing well on teaching him to examine the world around himself. Is philosopher a reasonable career goal to steer him toward?

accumulated randomness

2008-11-12T03:46:00.002+01:00

So I spent Veteran's Day reading. Three books since yesterday at about 5pm. I almost think I've managed to overload for a bit, which is good, because maybe then I can concentrate on my WIP.

Twitter is evil. I'd just started getting back into the habit of blogging semi-regularly. And then I discovered Twitter. So much easier to post 140 character thoughts than do a whole post.

(Um, come to think of it, I'd be a bit scared to do counts on these bullet point thoughts. Might be around 140...)

I am an uber-geek. This has been established many times over. Why bring it up now? I am excited that tomorrow is Wednesday, because I'll be able to catch SYTYCD Canada on YouTube. Yes, I am a sad case. And a total 'shipper regarding Nico and Arassay. Tomorrow is the first time they'll be split up! *sobs* It'll be okay. I'll fill in their touching back-stage scenes all on my own.

Do you like me? Check yes or no.

2008-10-23T04:24:00.002+02:00

I was not a cool kid in Junior High. Curly (frizzy) hair that never should have been cut at my ears, yet was. Glasses. Hadn't had braces yet. Abysmal sense of style, made worse by the fact that it was the early '90s. I was in the Cadet Corps, which is kind of like JROTC, yet somehow (amazingly) geekier.

Oh, but Kurt was in Cadets also.

Brown hair, blindingly bright blue eyes. He was such a sweetheart, and he'd done martial arts for something like ten years at that point, so he was cut. A cut 8th grader! I know, it boggles the mind. Or at least, it boggled my poor, impressionable mind. Plus he could do the splits up against a wall, something that made my last three brain cells stutter to a stop.

Have you guessed I had a crush on him? Like I may go into nuclear melt-down if he smiles at me type bad.

Then my best friend, Beth, talked me into asking him out. The bitch. We cornered him, and I stuttered and stammered my way through the embarrassing situation while my skin went so red it felt like it was about to peel off my face. Kurt turned me down. Very nicely, since he was a Very Nice Guy, but the end result was the same.

Right now? Eighth grade me is jibbering in the back corner of my brain, violently reminding me of that horrid day. (Why my brain has picked that memory, I have no idea. I've done much more embarrassing things in the more than 15 years since.) But I've told 8th grade me to shove it (and to go get a new haircut, srsly. 8th grade me looks like a mushroom.) If I'm going to be a professional writer, I've got to put myself out there.

All of which is a really long way to say - I've begun my agent hunt. Wish me luck.

sleep, precious sleep. . .

2008-10-21T03:47:00.003+02:00

Tired, cranky, and incredibly anxious. That's me.

I need chocolate.

And booze.

And caffeine.

Preferably all together. But it's a work night, and I'm on a diet too, so no goodies for me. Sigh.

I entered the Golden Heart tonight. That explains the last one, the anxiousness, but the tired and cranky come from a bad night sleep last night. It used to be I could sleep until 2 in the afternoon, then drop off like a rock that night. Now the baby lets me sleep in until 10:30 and my entire schedule's screwed.

So I'm off to bed. At not even 10 pm. Once upon a time, I used to have an exciting life.

Overheard in my house

2008-10-05T20:42:00.001+02:00

Older two boys are watching Goosebumps:

7 yo: Don't go there! Don't do it. *sigh* Why isn't she listening?

5 yo: 'Cause she's in a movie.

From the Annals of Smart-assery

2008-09-30T22:31:00.002+02:00

A couple Soldiers get on the elevator at the seventh floor. They see me press the button for the 9th floor, the top level in our office building.

"So," one asks as the we approach my floor. "Is the view on the ninth different from the seventh?"

"Sure," I answer as the door slides open and I step out. "It's higher up."

*snicker*

At least I amuse myself.

At the carnival

2008-09-25T01:51:00.003+02:00

So last night we went to the county fair. It was free entry for military personnel and their dependents, but that doesn't mean I got off cheap. Unlimited ride wrist bands were $18 per kid, but they totally dug being able to ride whatever they wanted, so it was worth it. And have ya seen the price of fair food lately? Sheesh. You'd think they hadn't heard the economy was in trouble. And then I didn't even get any 'cause I'm on this whole eating plan thing. I compensated by feeding my 15 month old junk. It's all good.

My 7 year old wanted to ride one of the big rides. The Fire Ball, to be specific. This is the one that spins round and round, then goes side to side. You're freaking weightless at the top of the arc. But ok, he meets the height requirement, so here we go. For one thing, I had this overwhelming compulsion to lift my feet anytime we went speeding back towards the ground. Don't have a fucking clue why, since my feet were like two feet off the ground before they even lowered the deck. But I had to lift my feet. Making myself put them down was even tougher than keeping my stomach from churning, something else that proved absolutely impossible.

Anyway, not the point of this entry.

I love roller coasters, and the big fair rides, and lots of stuff involving adrenaline rushes. But I discovered something last night. Doing these things is completely, totally different when you know your kid's sitting next to you. Me riding by myself? My life is in my own hands, and if I wanna risk it, it's all good. My baby on the ride? That my friends, was the most terrifying ride of my life.

holy cow

2008-09-21T01:51:00.004+02:00

Dude. Wow. Check out how big that tube is, right about 50 seconds in. You could fit a freaking SUV in there. An Expedition. Maybe two. There's something hot about about surfers and something borderline psychotic about the death chasing that is big wave surfing. Me likey.

As you might be able to guess, I haven't done much productive today. Lot of web surfing. Very little applicable to current works in progress. Yes, I said works plural. Started a new project in tandem with my current one. :) I love living dangerously.

To balance out the perfection of the above clip:

This might be a little macabre. . .

2008-09-18T02:49:00.004+02:00

I've realized that should war come to my area on the weekend, I won't notice.

The boys watch a couple of hours of cartoons on the weekend, but it's all Dish Network stuff in the high numbers. No breaking news cut ins there. If I actually manage to watch a little tv, it's something DVRed from earlier in the week. Way more common is me putzing around on the computer. And not the main pages like Yahoo or something, either. My home page doesn't have a lick of news on it, and most of the time I'm either editing or writing, while listening to iTunes. At the same time, I've gotten used to the sound of artillery and heavy gunfire from the nearby Army base. The very same Army base that would be a pretty decent target, since it would take out a huge chunk of our military.

So do me a favor. If you hear about a war kicking off in North Carolina on a Saturday, shoot me an IM or something.

It's meme time - again!

2008-09-10T00:38:00.002+02:00

This is a fun one. The rules:

1. Comment on this post and ask for a letter.
2. I will give you one.
3. Think of 5 fictional characters whose names begin with that letter, and post their names and your comments on these characters on your blog.

My letter, courtesy of Carrie Lofty, was B. B as in bear, as in buzzing bee, as in . . . ok, I have little kids. Gimme a break. (Ha! B!)

First up:

Charles Bingley. Often (almost always) overwhelmed by the brooding, Alpha presence of Darcy, Bingley has his own appeal. Gentle, accepting, and very sweet. In film versions, usually portrayed by someone "cute" rather than hot. But it's easier to actually live with cute than it is drop dead gorgeous. (And I for one, ain't gorgeous.)

Bernardo de la Paz. The anarchistic professor from Robert A. Heinlein's The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. I have an overwhelming love for this book. Destruction of tyranny! TANSTAAFL! Happy polygamy. The maturation of a self-aware computer. My thirteen year old self nearly went into melt down when I read it the first time. Initially I identified with Wyoming, the tall, gorgeous idealist, and I wanted to be her when I grew up. But Professor de la Paz is the more intriguing character lately. Exiled to the moon for reasons we never exactly learn of, he carves a life for himself in a place where he should have been out of his element. And when he sees injustice, he fights back. Brilliantly.

Baby, also known as Francis. Dirty Dancing. What girl in her ugly duckling stage doesn't sigh and imagine herself in Baby's shoes? Also an idealist. (Beginning to wonder why I identified with idealist characters when I'd describe myself more as a pragmatist.)

Barney. The devil in the form of kid's entertainer. When I was pregnant, Barney was big and I declared my child would never watch him, never have the toys, never even know him if I could help it. Everyone laughed at me but I succeeded. I'm still not even sure why it is Barney grates on my nerves so badly, but I just want to poke him in the eyes. Hey, look! Barney + cannon = fun!

Tobias Beecher, from HBO's Oz. An alcoholic but also a lawyer and family man, Beecher kills a girl while DUI and is sent to maximum security prison for his sins. From being the local Nazi's prag, to his sick twisted love with uber dangerous/sexy Chris Keller, Beecher had it rough. He becomes an even worse addict for a while, turning to heroin. Hell, at the end of the show he might be up for the death penalty for murder. Yet, through it all, you know he's trying to become a better man. August Hill is the moral center of the show, but Toby Beecher is the humanity, the dangerous path we can all fall down.

Oh yumminess. . .

2008-08-28T14:04:00.004+02:00

Lately, my evenings look like this:

Edit.

Kid wrangling.

Edit.

Hang on IM with the husband.

Edit.

As a result, all my tv watching's done in the mornings, when I'm getting ready for work. Thank god for DVRs! Also thank God I only watch like three shows. It takes me three mornings to watch a one hour program.

So, the point is, this morning I was watching last week's Burn Notice. (Absolutely adored the first season. Season two's been good, but not the fabulousness I'm used to. I think it's the whole must-chase-Carla thing I'm not digging.) The mini-bad guy for last week's episode stole a load of drugs meant for a humanitarian mission. Sam was just meeting the bad guy when I had to turn the tv off. Had to, or I was gonna be late for work.

But oh my, I didn't wanna turn it off. The bad guy? He's teh yummiest.

Max Martini (can you believe that name? Supposedly it's real.), better known as Mac from The Unit. In the four minutes he was on screen, he totally dominated everyone else in the frame. He was scruffy, and hit on some skanky chick, and then started a beatdown of one of his own gang members.

And oh how I still wanted him.

What is it with me and bad boys? Batman's sexier than Superman. Christopher Meloni was pretty hot on Law and Order SVU, but as Chris Keller, the deliciously psychopathic killer on Oz, he was smokin'.

I don't think I have a saviour complex. I've no dreams of redeeming anyone. I just want to use one up for a little while. ;) We'll call it research, okay?

This is where romance novel covers come from

2008-08-25T14:56:00.002+02:00

Yesterday morning, I was standing in my bathroom, having just blow dried my hair in preparation for flat ironing. Seven year old boy and one year old boy both watched.

7yo: You looked really pretty doing that, mommy.

Me (thinking I've built a pretty huge Jew-fro): Oh, yeah?

7yo: Yeah. You know when a girl's standing on a cliff with a boy and her hair's blowing in the wind? That's what you looked like.

Look, a meme!

2008-08-15T13:15:00.004+02:00

(I am half tempted to start naming all my posts in this vein.)

The rules: Copy and paste the list. Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you've seen in movie/tv format. You may thank me later for the easy post. 'Cause you have to pick five persons to continue also. My turn to play was courtesy of Ann Aguirre. (Which reminds me, when does Wanderlust come out again? I'm pretty sure it's a matter of a week or so. Must go check my Amazon list.)

1. Jurassic Park
2. War of the Worlds
3. The Lost World: Jurassic Park
4. I, Robot
5. Contact
6. Congo
7. Cocoon
8. The Stepford Wives
9. The Time Machine
10. Starship Troopers
11. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
12. K-PAX
13. 2010
14. The Running Man
15. Sphere
16. The Mothman Prophecies
17. Dreamcatcher
18. Blade Runner(Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?)
19. Dune
20. The Island of Dr. Moreau
21. Invasion of the Body Snatchers
22. The Iron Giant(The Iron Man)
23. Battlefield Earth
24. The Incredible Shrinking Woman
25. Fire in the Sky
26. Altered States
27. Timeline
28. The Postman
29. Freejack(Immortality, Inc.)
30. Solaris
31. Memoirs of an Invisible Man
32. The Thing(Who Goes There?)
33. The Thirteenth Floor
34. Lifeforce(Space Vampires)
35. Deadly Friend
36. The Puppet Masters
37. 1984
38. A Scanner Darkly
39. Creator
40. Monkey Shines
41. Solo(Weapon)
42. The Handmaid’s Tale
43. Communion
44. Carnosaur
45. From Beyond
46. Nightflyers
47. Watchers
48. Body Snatchers

Now, for my victims:
Bettie Sharpe
Jen the Ginger Kid
Katiebabs
Evie Byrne
. . . and I'm out of people to tag. There's supposed to be five, but I'm going to have to settle for four.

Look, I have a book!

2008-08-12T01:20:00.002+02:00

(Look, it's been less than a month, and I posted!)

Just finished a last minute scrub through of my ms, in preparation of sending it out to the editor I met at Nationals. Is it any good? I'm not honestly sure. I think I'm having a bit of a forest vs. trees problem.

On the other hand, it's a real, full-length book. The longest thing I've ever written. Even if it languishes in a forgotten file on my hard drive for the rest of my life, it's a hell of an accomplishment. It's gone out to my crit partners already, and in a minute it'll go out to my best friend. (My ultimate personal bullshit meter.

Now on to a synopsis and query letter.

My work is never done. ;)

Just call me Typhoid Mary

2008-08-06T22:14:00.002+02:00

I brought a nasty cold home to my family, as an extra special souvenier from RWA Nationals. I'm still praying the kiddos don't catch it. (Did you know there was an actual Typhoid Mary? I thought for the longest time that was one of those urban legend things, but apparently not.)

Anyway, other than that, the National Convention in SF was amazingly fun. I don't think I can adequately describe what a blast it was. (And you call yourself a writer, woman!)

I gotta do this in highlight format because the long version post was getting *ridiculously* out of control.

Wednesday:
Stalked both Carrie Lofty and Ann Aguirre down at the Literary Signing. They're both just as wonderful as they seem.
Nalini Singh and Sherry Thomas both knew my name from Tarnished Angel's run on Bam's site!
Finally met Kelly and Patti from my online crit group. Was worried if everything would be the same face to face, but it was even better.
Dinner out at Straits, wonderful Asian-fusion food. Ann's treat!
Staying up way too late, sleep over style.

Thursday:
People meeting! More people meeting! This not-so-people person almost went into melt down! (Which reminds me, what do I do with all the business cards I collected? Email people and say "I met you at Nationals and thought you were fabulous!"?)
Free books began with HQN Blaze signing.
Met up with old friend from High School, brought her back to the hotel for drinks. She's definitely a non-writer (scientist type) so we were joking about her "pitch", making it intentionally silly and awful. One adorably worried conference attendee tried to rescue us from ourselves. Didn't catch her name but whoever that was, I appreciate the thought.
Workshops. A couple of 'em. Kind of non-plussed.
More staying up late!

Friday:
Editor meeting. Oh holy nerves. Went swimmingly, was in and out in four minutes with a full request. Happy dances were performed.
The rest of the morning was a bit of a blur but I do remember there were book signings. At least two, maybe three?
Tried to go to some workshops/panels but couldn't keep my head in the game. Went upstairs to edit.
Woke up face down in my manuscript when Carrie said it was time to go to the SBTB cocktail party. . .
Which was a blast. Sarah's a quirky sweetheart, and Candy's just like she comes across on the intertubes. Met up with Bettie Sharpe finally, who's supermodel gorgeous. More people meeting!
Dinner and drinks with Kelly, Patti, Carrie, Bettie and Evie Byrne (who gave us all purty, purty hand made book marks.)
More up too late sleep over behaviour! This time with Bettie in attendance, as well. I have a video clip from this night with Bettie and Ann in bed and Ann is saying something about feet and not knowing where they've been. And no, I don't remember any sort of context.

Let me pause to say here the highlight only version is still incredibly long. And I am using a metric fuck-ton of exclamation points. But unless you're willing to read this entire post out loud in a squee-tone, I'm sticking with the exclamation points.

Saturday:
Panels! Note to self for future conferences: I like the panels a heck of a lot more than the workshops. Went to Ann Aguirre's on writing cross-over fiction. Interesting things said. Went to Jane and Nora Roberts' panel on plagiarism. Nora Roberts scares me. I fully believe she will kill me with a hammer if I ever steal her work.
More book signings. Holy crud so many books! Eventually had to control my greed for fear of not being able to get them home.
Award ceremony. Remarked to Carrie that even if my husband didn't say wonderful, supportive things to me I'd have to lie and say he did. Apparently the trick to winning a Rita is to have a fabulous husband. I think I'll be set.
Dessert buffet surprisingly chocolate-light.
My favorite part of the day (and maybe even my favorite part of the trip, even though I seem to have a knack for making a certain person cry - sorry about that!) - Huge writing/goal pow-wow with my crit partners. Big plans made, prime ideas discussed. We are gonna be on top of the world!

Sunday was spent with my mom and her partner, doing the tourist thing, before I caught a red-eye out.

Seriously? (Srsly.) The conference was absolutely everything I'd hoped for and more. I feel totally pumped and confident and ready to take on my next goal. And ohmigod was it straight up fun! Must start saving/planning for next year.

busy

2008-07-20T04:00:00.001+02:00

I have a plate of fresh cantaloup and watermelon, a glass of coke, Dr. Horrible playing in the background, and I'm working on my ms. It's a good night.

But on that note, how can I spell autonomous correctly when I can't keep lose/loose straight half the time?

My latest guilty pleasure. . . or not

2008-06-27T02:28:00.003+02:00

So I cruised over to YouTube to snag the video for my latest guilty pleasure song - one that's an ear virus, and horrible, yet I start bopping along to every time.

And the embed feature is "disabled by request."

Huh?

Fine then, no viral for you! I won't even mention which song it is now.

Srsly though, why disable the embed? Is there some sooper sekret hacker thing I don't know about where a YouTube video can be stolen if it's embed-able? (And if there is, can someone tell me the trick? Teasing! Just teasing!)

Stayed home sick today. I've got an icky cold that's morphing into a nasty cough. Blech. Got a lot of laundry done, but not much on the writing front. I accidentally left my notebook at work Wednesday evening, so I was SOL. Or at least that was the excuse I used to be lazy and take a three hour nap. :D Damn did it feel good.

Sure I'm a tard, but little things make me happy.

2008-06-23T01:23:00.003+02:00

For about three years, I've been envious of people who could control their music from their keyboards. It always seemed more convenient, just tapping a little button right above where you were already typing, rather than having to toggle over to your program. But I use iTunes and I used to run it on a PC. They wouldn't work for me.

I've had an iMac for about a month. You'd think I'd have noticed the music controls across my function keys.

Nope, not 'til tonight. I can even mute from my keyboard.

Yeah, it makes me happy.

God I'm a geek.

why don't cars just go and that's it?

2008-06-18T19:14:00.003+02:00

So halfway through the drive to take my kids to grandma's house this weekend, the AC died. 7 hour drive. Unseasonable heat wave. Three kids in the car. Oh gee golly willikers that was fun. My only saving grace was that the sun had gone down, so it wasn't *quite* so hot.

Tuesday I took the Passat to the dealer to figure out what's wrong with it. (And for yearly service. Holy crap expensiveness.) Honestly, they still haven't told me what's wrong with the AC but I don't really care at this point. They're replacing the entire system and it's not costing me a dime. Yaay for warranties.

I've got a rental for the day (also free, an awesome warranty strikes again). It's a Saturn Vue and my apologies to all Vue owners out there but why the fuck would anyone want this car? It's got the uncomfortable feel and boxy styling of a minivan but none of the extra space. It's also got absolutely no acceleration or power and yet gets crappy gas mileage. I mean seriously? I thought those would be a trade off. Give up one, get the other.

I miss my Passat. :(

title, shmitle

2008-06-13T14:10:00.006+02:00

So I'm looking for an Obama bumper magnet (gotta be a magnet. The husband will have a shit fit if he comes home and finds a sticker on his car, much less one that expired six months earlier.) and I saw this:

An Obama candle. Good heavens. Most importantly, they left out vital information. What does this thing smell like??

However, I might need this:

Is it just me or have campaign t-shirts gotten a hell of a lot cooler?

On to actual stuff. Tonight I'm driving two states south to drop my older two boys off with my MIL. Three weeks of just me and the one year old! It's gonna be so quiet! My house might actually get clean! (The excess exclamation points tell you how incredibly, over the top excited I am.)

On another note, I hit 65,000 words last night on my WIP. I had been thinking I'd use the time the boys are with my MIL to finish up but I may not need that whole time. The downside: I'm thinking I'm only gonna hit around 75k and who knows how much will end up getting sliced in edits. The upside: this would set me up for having a decent draft by RWA. Wild. I might have something to pitch. I'll have to run around and read up on the art of the elevator pitch after all.

PS. Tarnished Angel is now available as a free, pdf download on my website. www.LorelieBrown.com Yay for free e-books!

PPS. I just noticed my sidebar's broken. None of my collapse/expand will open. How can my template break when I haven't done anything but write a post for months?? Oh well. I can't fix it now, and won't have time when I get home. I guess I'll be reverting to my old template.

Holy craptacular, Batman!

2008-06-12T04:08:00.003+02:00

Why am I having such a hard freaking time figuring out how alcohol withdrawal and DTs would have been treated by 1920s medical professionals?? This is about to drive me batshit insane. I tried tackling this during my initial research and didn't get very far. Ah, no problem, I'll just come back to it later. Um, it's later now and I can't find shit. Thorazine was invented too late and sanitoriums were a long term treatment. . . I need the doc to say one thing. One thing and I can't figure out if it's freaking accurate.

Sigh.

The good news is that I'm on the downhill slide with this MS. I think. I hope. And it's looking like I'll actually crack a decent word count, in real novel length territory. A first for me!

Of course, right now it's an awful piece of shit, writing wise, but the point is to get the words on paper, right? Fixing the ugly is what editing is for, right?

I'm so lame, I give myself memes

2008-06-01T05:59:00.004+02:00

I cannot for the life of me remember where I saw this meme, but it was a while ago. And I apparently need a life, so here you go. The object of the game is to go copy the Top 100 movies from IMDB.com, then bold those you've seen.

1. The Godfather (1972)
2. The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
3. The Godfather: Part II (1974)
4. The Good, The Bad and The Ugly (1966)
5. Pulp Fiction (1994)
6. Schindler's List (1993)
7. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975)
8. Star Wars: Episode V - The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
9. Casablanca (1942)
10. Shichinin no samurai (1954)
11. Star Wars (1977)
12. 12 Angry Men (1957)
13. The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
14. Rear Window (1954)
15. Goodfellas (1990)
16. Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)
17. Cidade de Deus (2002)
18. C'era una volta il West (1968)
19. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
20. The Usual Suspects (1995)
21. Psycho (1960)
22. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
23. Fight Club (1999)
24. The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
25. Citizen Kane (1941)
26. North by Northwest (1959)
27. Memento (2000)
28. Sunset Blvd. (1950)
29. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
30. It's a Wonderful Life (1946)
31. The Matrix (1999)
32. Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
33. Se7en (1995)
34. Apocalypse Now (1979)
35. Taxi Driver (1976)
36. American Beauty (1999)
37. Léon (1994)
38. Vertigo (1958)
39. American History X (1998)
40. Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain, Le (2001)
41. Paths of Glory (1957)
42. The Departed (2006)
43. M (1931)
44. To Kill a Mockingbird (1962)
45. Chinatown (1974)
46. The Third Man (1949)
47. Leben der Anderen, Das (2006)
48. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
49. Alien (1979)
50. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)
51. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
52. The Shining (1980)
53. Forrest Gump (1994)
54. Double Indemnity (1944)
55. The Pianist (2002)
56. Laberinto del fauno, El (2006)
57. Sen to Chihiro no kamikakushi (2001)
58. Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
59. Saving Private Ryan (1998)
60. Requiem for a Dream (2000)
61. L.A. Confidential (1997)
62. There Will Be Blood (2007)
63. The Bridge on the River Kwai (1957)
64. Boot, Das (1981)
65. Reservoir Dogs (1992)
66. Aliens (1986)
67. No Country for Old Men (2007)
68. Untergang, Der (2004)
69. The Maltese Falcon (1941)
70. Raging Bull (1980)
71. Rashômon (1950)
72. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
73. Metropolis (1927)
74. Modern Times (1936)
75. Rebecca (1940)
76. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
77. Singin' in the Rain (1952)
78. All About Eve (1950)
79. Hotel Rwanda (2004)
80. Sin City (2005)
81. Some Like It Hot (1959)
82. City Lights (1931)
83. Amadeus (1984)
84. Vita è bella, La (1997)
85. Sjunde inseglet, Det (1957)
86. The Great Escape (1963)
87. The Prestige (2006)
88. On the Waterfront (1954)
89. The Elephant Man (1980)
90. Touch of Evil (1958)
91. Full Metal Jacket (1987)
92. Jaws (1975)
93. Nuovo cinema Paradiso (1988)
94. The Sting (1973)
95. Once Upon a Time in America (1984)
96. The Apartment (1960)
97. The Great Dictator (1940)
98. Braveheart (1995)
99. Blade Runner (1982
100. The Manchurian Candidate (1962)

Two months!

2008-05-31T16:36:00.004+02:00

Do you know what today is? Less than two months to the RWA National Convention in SF. I was totally going to post yesterday, when it would have been exactly two months but my box came from Amazon. I almost had to chase the FedEx guy down 'cause he went *past* my house. And then I read the new Julia Quinn. The whole thing. And really? Loretta Chase is calling my name. And my WIP is craving a couple thousand words. So you're lucky I'm even posting today. :) I mean, don't y'all live for my infrequent posts? No? Really?

Ahem.

Where was I?

Two months to Nationals!

I'm not even sure I can describe how freaking excited I am. Lemme just say this is my first solo trip (ie non-kids, non-husband accompanied) in eight years. I'm registered, I have hotel reservations, I have airline tickets. This is a real thing! I'm meeting women I've known on the intertubes for years now and I feel like I'm doing a real, professional thing for my whole wanna-be-published dealio. I considered going to a smaller conference first, but I figured jumping in the deep end first was more my style.

And the husband is even behind me now! Initially he said "But next year's in DC and that's much closer" and essentially implied I'm too naive to be wandering around the streets of SF by myself. (I can't even describe how ironic that is. I spent a lot of time in the Bay Area once upon a time.) Now he's trying to make sure I have extra spending cash so I can have a good time and go out one night.

Oh, speaking of going out one night! So I was over at Bettie's blog, and Nationals came up and she and Ann and I started talking about going out one night for dinner and drinks with Carrie. (whee for run-ons!) So next time I talked to my friend from high school, I asked if she knew some places. Oh boy does she. She asked what our budgets and tastes were (I didn't know what to tell her yet) and among other things she suggested Supper Club if we wanted to go high end. Look at that place! It's so swank I'm not sure I'd know what to do with myself. It's a damn far cry from Chili's and the honkey tonk bar my friend and I go to around here. But no matter where we end up I'm sure we'll have a blast.

And btw, I promise this is the last/only countdown post. Really. Unless I get even more overly-excited. Um. No, it's the last one, really. I'll just leave the sqeeing in draft form if I *must* write it.

Yes, I know I'm easily annoyed

2008-05-25T03:33:00.002+02:00

Okie dokie, this song:

Is bugging the hell out of me. It's not a bad song or anything. I'm no music expert, so I know I'm about to describe this wrong, but It's that whistle-y tone at the beginning, the piping notes over the beat. I *know* I've heard it before. Maybe not quite so high pitched but the same pattern or something. And I can't place it. Which means it's driving me nuts.

So have pity on a crazy woman. Anyone know what it's from?

The Winner!

2008-05-21T21:47:00.002+02:00

Phew! Sorry this is so late -- I bought a new computer Monday and today, when I turned it on to write this post there was no input to the monitor. Or to my old monitor. We ended up having to take the damn thing back, because they didn't have anymore at Best Buy. Hooray for condesending, sexist Best Buy Geek Squad -- not.

On to happier things. Our winner for the temporary ressurection of Bam's writing contest is:

Jennifer Y.!

Come on down (email is LorelieLong at gmail dot com) and get yer prize!

Thanks everyone who entered and participated. I really had a blast running this!

Presenting: The Finalists

2008-05-16T15:36:00.003+02:00

First, lemme say I was so freaking excited to see so many entries that were prefaced with something about being new or not having written before. I love that!

Second: Ya know, when Bam ran this contest previously, she'd always talk about how hard it was to pick the finalists. "But Bam, it's not that hard," I'd said to my monitor. "Just pick me and a couple others." Er. . . ok maybe I didn't quite think that (every month) but I didn't quite get what was so hard.

Dude. It's freaking tough. It's just taken me about three hours to narrow it down. "But I wanna keep that one too!" is what I kept saying. Everyone had some twist that made it a little bit awesome. But I couldn't pick every one. Contests don't work like that.

So with no further ado, here's our finalists:

jennifer y.

Cassie opened the door realizing the time had come. After ten long years, she was going to tell her best friend that she wanted him.

The grin on Jack’s face disappeared as he took in her attire. The expensive black lace teddy had been an impulsive purchase, but the heat in the deep-blue eyes raking over her body and causing her heart to skip a beat proved that it had been worth the price.

“Um, did I interrupt something?” Jack asked while Cassie dragged him into the house seeing no point in giving the neighbors a free peep show.

“Nope, you’re just in time,” Cassie smiled seductively as she helped Jack remove his coat, her mind planning the removal of other items later.

“What are you talking about? And what’s with the get-up?” he asked, his eyes never leaving her.

“Jack, we’ve been friends for a long time now.” Cassie purred brazenly rubbing her body against his, “I have something I need to tell you.”

Bracing herself for Jack’s rejection Cassie closed her eyes half-expecting him to walk away. Instead, to her surprise, he moved closer pressing her heated body to the wall.

“Your sink isn’t leaking, is it?” Jack murmured near her ear.

“Forget the sink! I want you, damnit!” she blurted her well-rehearsed speech gone with the touch of Jack’s lips on her neck. The toolbelt fell forgotten to the floor, his mouth continuing its assault her neck and addling her senses.

“Why haven’t you said anything before?” he asked in between nibbles.

“I was afraid it would ruin our friendship.”

“You haven’t ruined anything. I just need to be clear on what it is you want,” he said hesitantly, pulling back to look into her eyes, his need evident.

“I figured it would be obvious once you saw my outfit,” she said wondering if she should have gone with her first clothing choice…nothing.

“Well, why don’t you spell it out for me, just in case,” he whispered into her ear, his tongue darting out to trace the sensitive shell. The closeness of their bodies leaving little doubt of the effect she had on him.

Her confidence bolstered by her newfound knowledge, Cassie said, “Okay, I’ll tell you what I want. You…me…in bed…naked…now. Got it?”

“Yes Ma’am!” Jack said, his lips descending onto hers. Overwhelmed by his scent, Cassie forgot to breathe as his tongue touched hers.

angeleque

She spotted him immediately when she entered, seated at the bar. Renaldo was surrounded by his two business partners, each man flanked by a silicone enhanced woman.

The hostess stepped out from behind her podium, looking Evelyn’s outfit of a simple pair of faded jeans and tank top, up and down with her wrinkled nose but it was her sour expression which told all.

Normally she would have taken more care with her attire, dressed more appropriated but tonight her focus wasn’t on dress code but going after what she wanted.

She hated the smile which was instantaneous now whenever he was around. Blowing out she approached the bar and tapped the woman who’d wrapped herself around Renaldo’s side.

The group turned, looked at her but her gaze remained centered him.

“You accused me of not being real, not being honest with you about who I am and what I want. I want someone to talk to on the way home, no matter the time.” She paused, cleared her throat, stepping closer to him. “I want a friend. I don’t just want the hot, sweaty, monkey, acrobatic, mind blowing sex. I want love and romance, moonlight and roses, snuggling on the couch and kissing in the rain.”

Finally she moved in, taking her place next to him, edging the other woman out and back toward his friend.

“A friend, lover, dance partner, champion, protector, provider… I want it all. House, kids, career and home-cooked meals. And it pisses me off. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. It was supposed to be just sex. My life... I had everything figured out, what I would be doing and by what age.”

His hand rose to caress her cheek and she leaned into his touch. Briefly relishing the gentle touch and what the words could not convey. Her rich coffee colored eyes linked to his deep sapphire ones.

“I never dated anyone like you. You see me, not an extension of my family or for what lies in between my thighs. You changed my life, pushed me off my square and told me I was beautiful and meant it.”

“Siete bei il mia amore.”

“I want the fucking happily ever after.” She sighed, stepped back, “Now the ball is in your court.” Turning, she walked away, not looking back. Her head hoped he would follow, her heart knew he would.

ali

Sam took a deep breath and started to turn the doorknob to the apartment. She could do this. She would go in, tell him how she felt, and go on from there. Simple, right? She stared down and realized that her hands were tightly gripped to the doorknob. Damn nerves. Okay, so maybe she needed a little more time.

Turning around and walking away, Sam stopped before she reached the stairs. What was she thinking? She had nowhere to go. This was her apartment.

Summoning up all the strength she had in her she marched back to the apartment, opened the door and right away could hear Leo talking to himself in the kitchen. She could smell lasagna in the air and felt her stomach rumble in response. Laying a hand on her tummy she reminded herself that Leo came first, and then food. And if she was lucky, she’d get some dessert before the main course.

Walking into the kitchen she got a nice look at Leo’s butt while he was bent over looking in the refrigerator. Ooh, she couldn’t wait to get her hands on that. She pictured herself running her hands down his back before giving his butt a squeeze as he slid himself inside of her.

Sam didn’t realize she had gone off daydreaming until she caught the look Leo gave.

“Sam?” Leo gave her one of those heart stopping smiles, probably correctly guessing what she was thinking. Probably thinking the same thing.

Taking another deep breath, Sam walked up to Leo and decided it was now or never. “Leo, you’re right. There’s something between us and I would be a fool to let this pass. I want it. I need it. You,” she poked his chest, “Me. Hot monkey-sex.”

“Um, Sam, honey, I love what you’re saying, but,” Leo placed a finger against her lips.

No, dammit, he couldn’t have changed his mind. Not giving him a chance to stop her, she pulled his head down and started to softly kiss him.

Quickly taking over, Leo pulled Sam closer and what started out as soft and sensual turned hot and heady. Sam moaned as she felt Leo’s erection harden, making her feel light headed and thinking she heard voices.

Pulling away, Leo turned towards the phone on the counter and Sam instantly realized Leo wasn’t talking to himself earlier, there was someone on the speaker.

Voting will be open through midnight, Pacific Standard Time, 20 May. Get to it.

Oh whee!

2008-05-07T23:10:00.002+02:00

I am so freaking excited I could almost pee my pants. We leave tomorrow for the beach! God, I needed this vacation. I've got a stack of books and three notebooks and a new pen refill. Oh, and of course my lovely family too. Hee! The husband got in for R&R earlier this week, and I'm sure I don't have to say how happy we were to see him. I'd say this time in Florida is much deserved by all.

On another note, I'm so happy to see the submissions to my writing contest. I'd been worried for a second that no one wanted my $50 amazon bucks. No need to worry, we've got three awesome entries so far. But more would be fabulous, of course.

Fond Farewell and Free Stuff

2008-05-01T19:11:00.002+02:00

Well, today's the day. My novella (almost novella, word count wise?) Tarnished Angel finishes it's run today at Bam's place. It's been a fun eight weeks and everyone's said such nice things. Even better, those who thought not-nice things kept their mouth shut.

So I thought of a way to say thank you. I'm resurrecting Bam's writing contest. It seems fitting, considering the contest was the genesis of Tarnished Angel.

The prompt: I wanna see a girl tell a guy what she wants. Sexy, zany, crazy, whatever. I wanna see her pipe up and ask for her heart's desire.

The word count: 400.

The prize: $50 gift certificate from Amazon.

The deadline: 15 May.

What're you waiting for? Get writing. Post 'em here for me (and maybe a minion) to select the finalists.

Firefly and assorted other bits (Contest soon!)

2008-04-14T02:17:00.003+02:00

So I just wrapped up watching Firefly and Serenity and Torchwood, all for the first time. Captain Mal would totally kick Captain Jack's butt. O' course Captain Jack has his moments -- particularly when he's cheery in a faintly psychotic way. He doesn't do broody well.

But anyway, I was watching that episode where Captain Mal and Kaylee all go to the ball.

You know when Kaylee appears in the pink shepherdess dress?

My five year old: "She's a ho."

Um.

Well I know that one's not my fault. I may have a foul mouth sometimes, but "ho" sure ain't one of my words.

The arguments for finding new daycare options for them stack up every day.

Next child-Firefly interaction: I was watching the scene in Serenity where River goes to town in that bar and she's whacking the crap outta everyone and my 7yo walked in. "It's like she's dancing." Why yes, yes it is.

In other news: Writerly types (and those who like contests), stop by May 1st. I've got a surprise for y'all!

North and South

2008-04-14T02:14:00.002+02:00

I usually prefer my tv and movies on the gritty side. I prefer Torchwood over Dr. Who, I love Oz and despise Prison Break. So it probably shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows my viewing preferences that I adore North and South.

Friday night I popped open my Netflix queue. North and South was the first on the list that I could just click play on, so I did. It was a miniseries, and I was starting at about 9:30 at night, so I figured I'd watch one episode and toddle off to bed.

I next came up for air at 1:30, after watching all four episodes. And then I ordered my own copy from Amazon.

It's everything wonderful about Pride and Prejudice - the costumes, the acting, the proud, strong guy - plus the down and dirty realism of the abrupt way the world changed in the mid-1800s. The horrible life the workers dealt with and the desperate way the upper classes clung to their way of life.

Margaret pissed me off at times. Not during the proposal scene; I could understand her fear and hesitation, especially due to the timing. But at times like the dinner party, when she was so willfully Pollyanna. And I cannot for the freaking life of me figure out why Mr. Bell had to allude to having wanted to marry her also. In terms of character growth or illustration, I don't get it. She's just so freaking speshul?

Whatever.

Richard Armitage. John Thornton. Ohmigod, that voice. It's all been said, and I can't say it any better, so I'm going to save my time for drooling. After I say my favorite scene is when Margaret's leaving Milton and he's standing in the snow. "Look back. Look back at me." There's the voice in prime action, and the way he tries so hard to see if she looks back and then oh, the tragic way his gaze drops as he gives up, forevah! Aw, it was so freaking sad.

Do you know, ordering on Saturday, the earliest Amazon could get me my copy was Tuesday? It's b.s. if you ask me. Til then I have to work with the netflix set up, which isn't so great when you want to zip to specific scenes.

New crushes for me

2008-04-09T00:11:00.004+02:00

Lee-Hom Wang, from Lust, Caution.

and

Nikolaj Coster-Waldau, from New Amsterdam. He took a couple weeks to grow on me but now I'm unswerving in my affections. You know, except for Lee-Hom. Or Ryan Phillipe. Or Viggo (in some movies). Or Brent Vanderzant (or whatever his name is, he's an underwear model and I saw him in Mrs Giggles' cache). See, I'm absolutely faithful to my dear Nikolaj.

And yes, I have realized that all my crushes develop whenever the Husband is away. I find this perfectly sensible, thank you very much.

Once upon a time. . .

2008-04-04T01:36:00.003+02:00

When I was a teenager, I moved in with my father and my stepmom. Stepmom was a Very Clean Person. (And yes, the caps are necessary.) It took some getting used to because while my mom wasn't a slob, I'm pretty sure she dusted once a year. Maybe.

At my Stepmom's house, whenever the dishes were done drying in the rack, they were inspected by Stepmom before they went back in the cabinet. If they weren't properly done, they went back in the sink and whoever had to wash dishes the night before got stuck with the chore again. One day, Stepmom made split pea soup. I had to wash the ginormo pot.

The next day it was in the sink again. So I washed it.

In the morning, it was there again. So I washed it before I left for school.

It was in the sink when I came home.

Three days this went on. Starting the second day, I was washing that damn pot twice a day. I began to absolutely dread walking into the kitchen. The pot was back, it was always back, it never ever ever went the fuck away! I didn't even like split pea soup and here it was, haunting me! It all culminated in a screaming argument. She accused me of intentionally missing a flake of soup on the handle, I accused her of being a psychotic bitch. Pretty even, don't you think? No? Okay, maybe she was a little harsh.

Anyway, my job is starting to feel a bit like washing the dishes, and I have my own, special split pea soup pan. Oh so yay.

On a happier note, I'm pleased to report that my resume is updated and I've applied to a couple other positions. Light at the end of the tunnel.

Dammit, Sherry Thomas!

2008-03-26T13:54:00.001+01:00

I'm exhausted an it's all your fault.

I ran out last night and picked Private Arrangements up. It started in the drive through line for my dinner. "I'm just going to read a page," I thought.

A page turned into a chapter, which turned into "Just a few minutes more," and then the next thing I knew I was finishing the book at 1am and sleeping with it on the bed next to me.

There's no Ehvil Villan, there's no spies, there's no killer after them. There's just Cam and Gigi and how they and their love grow up. It's lovely and sexy and I even cried a bit (which is saying a whole lot for me.) Both are flawed, human creatures who desperately want to be happy.

I loved the time period as well. The entire world was changing in the late 1800s and that knowledge blends seamlessly into this book. Cam and Gigi were entirely beings of and in their time, not modern characters who're just plunked down in a different time so they can wear pretty clothes.

At this point, I'm just sighing and smiling wistfully about it, so it's hard to come up with a comprehensive review. Just go read it. Now.

Awwwww, crap

2008-03-11T00:25:00.003+01:00

I forgot about Sven.

Seriously. Just forgot about Sven and how he wants to make me sweat. (Er, not in a fun way.) I signed up for the 70 Days of Sweat challenge. . . and didn't remember until I visited Megan Hart's blog today. Which means (assuming I write today) I am eight days behind, since I wrote one day last week.

'Scuse me. Gotta go get busy.

(Um, I just went to the 70 Days blog and it turns out that while I commented, I didn't fill out the Mr. Linky. Part of me's tempted to use that as an out. The rest of me says get busy. And fill out the Mr. Linky.)

bleh

2008-02-29T21:34:00.002+01:00

This afternoon hasn't been so great. Turns out I suck at my job. It's a novel feeling. I've been not great at jobs before but never have I actually sucked at one. I don't like the feeling very much at all. I hate this job, really. Of course, that begs the question do I hate it because I suck at it, or do I suck at it because I hate it.

Sigh.

I'm gonna go home and have a beer and hopefully my Netflix will have arrived. It should be Dr. Who, season one, so I can find out what all the fuss is about.

I know it makes me a geek but I love it

2008-02-27T03:48:00.002+01:00

"Hey cuz, what's she doing here?"

"She's with me. She came with me."

"I carried a watermelon."

I am filled with leh sigh.

And have y'all seen the deleted scenes? OMGWTF batman! My girlie bits got excited. Vin Diesel wouldn'ta had nothin' on Johnny.

Ann Aguirre's Grimpspace

2008-02-19T21:34:00.002+01:00

I really liked it. You should buy it and I need to read more SciFi.

What, not enough?

Ok, fine. Has no one told you how tough it is to write a positive review? This is the real reason I don’t think I’d ever be tempted to work for a review site, free books or not. Gimme a bad one I can rip to pieces and I’m good. Saying why I like a book without sounding like a gushing idiot or like I’m kissing ass? Much tougher.

By all accounts, Sirantha Jax should have burned out years ago…
As the carrier of a rare gene, Jax has the ability to jump ships through grimspace—a talent which cuts into her life expectancy, but makes her a highly prized navigator for the Corp. But then the ship she’s navigating crash-lands, and she’s accused of killing everyone on board. It’s hard for Jax to defend herself: she has no memory of the crash.
Now imprisoned and the subject of a ruthless interrogation, Jax is on the verge of madness. Then a mysterious man breaks into her cell, offering her freedom—for a price. March needs Jax to help his small band of rogue fighters break the Corp monopoly on interstellar travel—and establish a new breed of jumper.
Jax is only good at one thing—grimspace—and it will eventually kill her. So she may as well have some fun in the meantime…

I like SciFi, but I’m picky about it. I had to take Biology twice and I never made it past Geometry, so the pages and pages of explanations found in a lot of hard SciFi makes my eyes glaze over. I’m not so big on magic in my reading material either, and a lot of the soft SciFi (that I’ve read at least) seems to blend the line to fantasy. Not good for my reading tastes. Grimspace? Ooh, nice blend. Only thing resembling magic is a touch of ESP and it’s got this great space-opera type thing going. They’re zipping here and there and there’s several different alien worlds. But it’s very much a romance at the same time.

I don’t want to be Sirantha Jax – she’s just a tiny bit too screwed up for that – but I’d sure like to have a couple beers with her. She’s snarky and a little bitchy and a little self-centered too – but in a fun way. March? Omigod yummy. I’m a sucker for guys who run around the pages going “I’ve been so bad, I’m not worthy – here, let me work my ass off trying to be a good man,” but only if the reader can buy the dichotomy. I have to believe they were once sucky-evil and also believe they’re good now. (Those rare books where the villain from earlier in the series can become the successful hero later? Yay-ness.) Ann Aguirre has that down pat.

The plot is kinda “episodic”, but it works for the style. There’s a bunch of little steps and a few bigger plot threads that one assumes will weave through the whole series. I was a little . . . I dunno, surprised at one of the smaller plot points ‘cause I’d gotten a bit attached to . . . jeeze *something* and was kinda annoyed by a development. (Holy hell, this would be the second reason I hate writing positive reviews. I have such a hard time doing it without spoilers.) And I was definitely surprised when Ann tied off one thread I thought would be something woven through the whole series. It seemed like a good opportunity to paint one of those epic good vs evil things SciFi’s good with. :::shrug::: But what do I know.

So my point would be: Go! Buy! Loose about a day of productive time ‘cause you can’t do anything without this book in one hand!

I like my pretty pink glasses

2008-02-14T14:36:00.002+01:00

You know, I used to think I was a realist. Not too happy skippy but not always positive everything would turn out badly.

Yeah, not so much.

Most recent example? I've been planning on going to the RWA National conference for about three months now. All sorts of excited and over the moon about it. Second favorite city in the States, finally meeting up with internet pals, learning bunches of new stuff and free book-icing on top of that. Then the husband found out he would deploy to Iraq. Still not a huge problem. In fact, it would be easier to save and my grandma would time her summer visit so she could watch the kids. Good to go.

A couple days ago, Hubby was told the month for his R&R leave - August. But I'm still not panicking, right? Really, the conference is only two days of that, it'll be fine. They told him yesterday it would probably be the earlier part of the month but it's not set in stone yet. And me? Still not upset. 'Cause I'm kinda convinced, knowing the Army, that shit will change at least five more times and he probably won't get leave until September. I'm just kinda concerned he finds out in a reasonable amount of time, or I'll be paying 700 for my airplane ticket. Everything's rosy in my little world.

I'm kinda delusional, I think.

procrastination

2008-02-11T17:39:00.000+01:00

I'm good at it. Damn good. This entry right here? Procrastination.

Turns out I'm not so good at blurbs.

meme-riffic

2008-02-08T01:15:00.000+01:00

Absolutely ganked from Carrie Lofty. You really should dance in the moonlight hun'. It's amazing.

Level 1
(x) Smoked a cigarette.
(x) Smoked a cigar.
(x) Kissed a member of the same sex.
(x) Drank alcohol.

Level 2
(x) Are/been in love.
(x) Been dumped.
(x) Shoplifted.
(x) Been fired.
(x) Been in a fist fight.

Level 3
(x) Had a crush on an older person.
(x) Skipped school.
(x) Slept with a classmate.
(x) Seen someone/something die.

Level 4
( ) Had/have a crush on one of your friends who is now on Facebook.
( ) Been to Paris.
( ) Been to Spain.
(x) Been on a plane.
(x) Thrown up from drinking.

Level 5
(x) Eaten sushi.
(x) Been snowboarding.
( ) Met someone BECAUSE of Facebook.
( ) Been in a mosh pit.

Level 6
( ) Been in an abusive relationship.
(x) Taken pain killers.
(x) Love/loved someone who you can’t have.
(x) Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by.
(x) Made a snow angel.

Level 7
(x) Had a tea party.
(x) Flown a kite.
(x) Built a sand castle.
(x) Gone mudding (offroading). 4 wheeling counts, right?
(x) Played dress up.

Level 8
( ) Jumped into a pile of leaves.
(x) Gone sledging (sledding).
(x) Cheated while playing a game.
(x) Been lonely.
(x) Fallen asleep at work/school.

Level 9
(x) Watched the sun set.
(x) Felt an earthquake.
( ) Killed a snake.

Level 10
(x) Been tickled.
(x) Been robbed/vandalized.
(x) Been cheated on.
(x) Been misunderstood.

Level 11
(x) Won a contest.
(x) Been suspended from school.
(x) Had detention.
(x) Been in a car/motorcycle accident.

Level 12
(x) Had/have braces.
(x) Eaten a whole pint of ice cream in one night.
(x) Danced in the moonlight.

Level 13
(x) Hated the way you look.
(x) Witnessed a crime.
(x) Pole danced.
(x) Questioned your heart.
(x) Been obsessed with post-it-notes.

Level 14
(x) Squished barefoot through the mud.
(x) Been lost.
(x) Been to the opposite side of the world.
(x) Swam in the ocean.
(x) Felt like you were dying.

Level 15
(x) Cried yourself to sleep.
(x) Played cops and robbers.
(x) Recently colored with crayons/colored pencils/markers.
(x) Sang karaoke.
(x) Paid for a meal with only coins.

Level 16
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't.
(x) Made prank phone calls.
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose.
(x) Kissed in the rain.

Level 17
(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus.
(x) Watched the sun set/sun rise with someone you care/cared about.
(x) Blown bubbles.
(x) Made a bonfire on the beach or anywhere.

Level 18
( ) Crashed a party.
(x) Have travelled more than 5 days with a car full of people.
(x) Gone rollerskating/blading.
(x) Had a wish come true.
( ) Slept with a member of the same sex.

Level 19
(x) Worn pearls.
( ) Jumped off a bridge.
( ) Screamed "penis" or vagina".
( ) Swam with dolphins.

Level 20
( ) Got your tongue stuck to a pole/freezer/ice cube.
( ) Kissed a fish.
(x) Worn the opposite sex's clothes.
(x) Sat on a roof top.

Level 21
(x) Screamed at the top of your lungs.
(x) Done/attempted a one-handed cartwheel.
(x) Talked on the phone for more than six hours (in one day).
( ) Recently stayed up for a while talking to someone you care about.

Level 22
( ) Picked and ate an apple right off the tree.
(x) Climbed a tree.
(x) Had/been in a tree house.
( ) Been scared to watch scary movies alone.

Level 23
( ) Believed in ghosts.
(x) Have had more than thirty pairs of shoes (not necessarily all at once).
( ) Gone streaking.
( ) Visited jail.

Level 24
(x) Played chicken. Um, pool chicken, not car
(x) Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on.
(x) Been told you're hot by a complete stranger.
(x) Broken a bone.
(x) Been easily amused.

Level 25
(x) Caught a fish then ate it later.
(x) Made a porn video.
(x) Caught a butterfly.
(x) Laughed so hard you cried.
(x) Cried so hard you laughed.

Level 26
(x) Mooned/flashed someone.
(x) Had someone moon/flash you.
(x) Cheated on a test.
(x) Forgotten someone's name.
(x) French braided someone's hair.
( ) Gone skinny dipping.
( ) Been kicked out of your house.
( ) Tried to hurt yourself.

Level 27
(x) Rode a roller coaster.
( ) Went scuba-diving/snorkeling.
(x) Had a cavity.
( ) Black-mailed someone.
( ) Been black mailed.

Level 28
(x) Been used.
(x) Fell going up the stairs.
( ) Licked a cat.
(x) Bitten someone.
(x) Licked someone--not in private places...

Level 29
( ) Been shot at/or at gunpoint.
( ) Had sex in the rain.
( ) Flattened someone's tires.
(x) Rode your car/truck until the gas light came on.
(x) Got five dollars or less worth of gas.

well dang it

2008-02-07T23:53:00.000+01:00

Now my friend's gonna be super annoyed with me.

She gave me a couple books she wants me to read, the newest Sandra Brown and a vampire one (which has a really good cover). I haven't read 'em. First a glom-box of Loretta Chase I ordered from eBay came and I read those first.

And now my ARC of Grimspace has come.

Really, how can I be expected to pass up on that? If I wait too long, I might not get to read it *before* it's released. And super coolness? It's a real ARC-y one. Like the cover's just heavy stock paper and it says "Uncorrected Proofs for Limited Distribution" across the top. Hee!

Okay, I know I'm a freaking geek but gimmie a break. This is the first one of these I've gotten my hands on.

And it's so cute, there was a letter included reminding me of how to get in touch with "Ms. Aguirre" when I did my review. :)

So . . . where's the line?

2008-01-29T19:06:00.000+01:00

For years, I've been one of *those* people. You know, the ones who say "I'm going to write a book someday." Occasionally I'd fiddle around with some project or another, then get bored and move on. Recently, that's changed. I've been working pretty steadily for a few months, have completed my longest project so far and am going to RWA Nationals in SF.

Which brings me around to my point. (Kinda. Bear with me if this doesn't make much sense.)

When do I stop entering the web contests?

Lots of sites run them. The authors themselves, review sites, you name it. There's ARCs and chocolate and all sorts of goodies. But eventually I want to be on an equal footing with professional writers. I don't feel like I can be an equal if I'm constantly running around entering sweepstakes, etc.

An example: I recently won an ARC of Grimspace from Ann Aquirre. But I've blog-known her for a while now. (How long's it been Ann, almost two years?) And we might be having a drink together come Nationals. I'm totally stoked to win the ARC, it looks like a great book and just got its first awesome review. And now Ann's running a huge contest. (I'm a pilot, apparently.) The grand prize is $100 bucks at Barnes and Noble. Honestly, part of me goes "Oh free books, must have, must have!" But the rest of me? Wonders how awkward I'd feel having that drink in SF if I actually won.

And other authors? I have a habit of lurking around Meljean Brook's blog and only popping out when there's a contest involved. Tacky, I know. Seriously, an ARC of Demon Night? When Colin was in my top three heros last year? How do you pass up that chance? With ARCs, it's not the free-ness, it's the early-ness! I've also entered several contests at Jackie Kessler's site.

But what if -- er, when, it's when I get published, and I run into her or Ann or some other author in a professional setting? And I know I've been practically cyber-begging from them? Even if they don't realize? I guess I'm going to have to sit down and establish some personal boundaries.

Man, the things you never think of 'til they smack you in the face.

Or maybe I'm just as obsessive as a certain someone I know and I should just chill the hell out. :::sigh:::

Ooooh.....me wants

2008-01-28T15:52:00.000+01:00

Ok, so this writer strike has me worried. Would you damn producers just give them what they want already? I only have three more episodes of House and then what am I supposed to do? I'm telling you, it won't be pretty, especially since the last episode will show two weeks after my husband LEAVES for 15 months in a WAR ZONE. Meaning I will already be in a fragile mental state and cannot be held responsible for my actions should House go off the air just because y'all are being JACKASSES! Do you want to be responsible for my insanity? Do you?

Anyway.

It occurred to me today that one of my other recent favorite shows, Burn Notice, is probably in jeopardy. It's a summer season show on USA. Michael's smart and hot, one of those "I'm not a nice guy but whoops I've got a heart of gold." The interplay with his Irish sometimes-girlfriend is smoking. And I'm sure they didn't complete the '08 season an entire year in advance.

Worried about Burn Notice, I hop on IMDB. (Of course.) Michael is played by Jeffery Donovan. If I can't see him in Burn Notice, what else have I got? Apparently he's in a movie called The Changeling, that's in post-production. Directed by Clint Eastwood. Starring Angelina Jolie. And John Malkovich is in it. And I'll get a chance to see my hottie. OMG, can this get any better?

Yes, it can.

It's a period drama. Set in the 1920s. About corruption in the LAPD! Oh. My. God. Squee!

Did they make this movie just for me?

Heath

2008-01-23T02:27:00.000+01:00

I can't believe Heath Ledger's died. And the damn shame of it is that a brilliant actor can now be pigeon holed as "the guy who played a gay cowboy." Don't get me wrong, Brokeback was really good and I've got my own copy. And he'd made a couple decent movies since then but if given time he could have really blown it out of the water. IMHO, at least.

His poor daughter.

7 Random Things About Me

2008-01-17T20:19:00.000+01:00

So that vamp (and amazingly talented author) Anne tagged me. . .

You know, I don't think I've been tagged for anything in more than a year. I've also had this entry open for about an hour and a half now. I find it slightly disturbing that I'm having a hard time thinking of seven things about myself.

1. I'm 28 and I still like Bonnie Bell Lip Smackers. The one sitting next to my keyboard right now is Fanta Strawberry flavored.

2. When I feel the budget's getting tight, getting my hair done is the first thing I drop. This is because I normally wear it in a pony tail or bun anyway.

3. I don't really like diamonds. They seem cold sometimes. I have them in my wedding rings because it's tradition and I'm slightly old fashioned about some things. Despite this, those DeBeers commercials make me want their stupid gimmicks. The "Past Present and Future" ring. The "Journey" pendant. Hi, my name's Lorelie and I'm a lemming.

4. I can't listen to country anymore because it makes me cry.

5. I keep Purell hand sanitizer on my desk at work because my coworkers seem to expect me to. I think I've used it three times in the six months I've worked here. Purell doesn't get that grimy feeling off like good old washing does.

6. I can easily spend 20 or 30 bucks a shot in the pen section of Staples. Some day I will find the Perfect Pen. And then I'll keep dropping money on new ones anyway, 'cause I'll lose the Perfect Pen and won't be able to remember what brand it was.

7. I think Red Vines are 100 times better than Twisters. I'm not even sure why they're put in the same category.

FRG. . . blech

2008-01-16T15:23:00.000+01:00

I hate FRG meetings. I hate pre-deployment FRG meetings even more. "Here's a whole lot of speechifying and a tiny bit of information you'll actually use. In fact, everything you need fits on this one sheet of paper we're handing out! Sure, we could have emailed it, but we like taking up an hour of your night!"

A few random observations:

Any woman who wears patchouli oil to a meeting should be dunked in a horse trough before she's allowed in. Any woman who wears enough of it to smoke out a large room should be dunked in ice water and scrubbed with a wire brush.

Any officer who says "I'll be brief" will talk the longest out of anyone speaking. And he'll repeat himself a minimum of three times.

There will almost always be two speakers who will have a voice too soft to be heard midway through the room. Usually, these two are people who have to talk at briefings as part of their every day jobs. Which leaves me baffled as to how they've never noticed everyone from three rows back straining forward to hear them.

OMG

2008-01-12T01:33:00.000+01:00

I want a cigarette.

I've had two in 24 hours.

That is all.

Catchin' up on my daytime TV

2008-01-02T14:46:00.000+01:00

So during my time off, there was a Dr. Phil episode on about feuding mothers and daughters. Yeah, I know it was a repeat but I hadn't caught it the first time. The first half was a musician daughter (who just happened to sing at the end of the show) and her stage mom. Second half? Oh that's the good part.

Mom was stalked by a serial killer twenty years ago. Daughter recently wrote a book based on the mom's story, with mom's help. They've since had a falling out over how the proceeds would be divided. Why such a big deal? The daughter apparently told mommy dearest the publisher said they would would make 3 million in a matter of months. That's where my eyebrows first went up. Three million? I say to myself. How in the world could that be? Meanwhile Dr. Phil's talking to the daughter about just how many copies would need to be sold to make $3 million. Answer: one million copies. But it gets even better.

Dr. Phil: We have your publisher with us today. (Gestures into audience.) Your name is?
Publisher: Thalia.
Dr. Phil: And the publishing company?
Publisher: Publish America.
Me: Laughing hysterically.
Husband: What? What's the big deal?
Dr. Phil: How many books have you sold a million copies of?
Publisher: I think I can safely say none.

At first, it really was funny. I laughed like crazy and had to choke out an answer to my husband, who was totally bewildered.

Don't get me wrong, there are times when vanity publishing could be a good thing, if you go in with a specific goal and with your eyes open. But no one's selling a million copies through them. Not happening. But then it occurred to me. There's people who really believe that's possible. Who really get their dreams crushed when they only sell a handful of copies to their friends and neighbors.

Jesus that's sad.

News flash - Your gramma had sex!

2007-12-21T19:41:00.000+01:00

I've got a 1920s story I've been kicking around for a while. I set it down for about two months because the hero bored me. (Too nice.) I've fixed him, which means I'm back to listening to period music.

People freaking slay me when they bitch about how music lately is too filled with sex and violence. Think of the children! Question: Do you like your grandparents? Respect them? Think they're generally nice human beings? If people want an eye opener, they need to listen to pre-FCC music.

From "Daddy Ease It To Me", by Lem Fowler with Helen Baxter:
See my stove is empty
but my cooking's good.
I need ya Daddy
and it's understood.
I can't cook
without your wood.
Daddy ease it to me.

Yeah, she makes a mean fried chicken. I'm sure that's what she's talking about.

From "Pussy Cat Blues", by Big Bill Broonzy:
You can play with my pussy
but please don't dog it around.
If you're gonna mistreat it
no pussy will be found.
Pussycat, pussycat
where have you been so long?
. . .
If you've got a good pussy
folks don't give it away.

I think it's a tabby. Maybe a Siamese.

The best part? I can listen to this stuff at work and my coworkers only smile and nod.

My job

2007-12-07T21:28:00.000+01:00

The new job's not bad. I'm a little disappointed - when I hired on everyone said "Oh you'll be swamped once you're trained up!" Um, not so much. I've got a lot of thumb twiddling time still. I read manuals but I can only do that for so long and then I end up surfing the internet to avoid falling asleep at my desk. It was good for my writing - I could sneak in chapters here and there.

Anyway.

This office is much bigger than my last one. Like a little more than three times the employees. But still, there's always that one special case, isn't there?

A certain employee, for whom I shall have to develop a nickname (because I'm sure she'll be showing up time and time again) was born missing one of her eyes. Really. She swears it. Her parents were all sorts of traumatized and worried about her.

But then it grew back.

Oblique husband update

2007-12-07T15:30:00.000+01:00

He's been offered a Medical Board twice now. The second one he turned down and asked for surgery instead. The first one he doesn't have a choice about. So who knows how this will turn out. Apparently there's many different options, all the way from being parked at a desk for the rest of his career to being booted out. I just luuurve the hurry up and wait period.

I still hate titles

2007-12-04T04:12:00.000+01:00

(It's nice to note that since my return-we're-not-talking-about Blogger has somehow learned I actually mean it when I click "remember me")

An hour and a half of edits today. I finally got smart! Did a find command for my most often inserted digits. I so smart. I have realized I have some chronology problems. Gonna have to look at that tomorrow.

Plus I did a couple pages (handwritten) of a quickie story. It's one where they get right down to the sexxoring right away. Much fun to write. Mildly awkward when you're doing so in a notebook in the smoking area of your office building, on your break. I wonder if anyone else runs into that.

My critique group was chatting this weekend and the topic of mothers reading our sex scenes came up. I honestly said I don't have a problem with it. Just doesn't bother me to think of.

Writing a sex scene in a public place where someone could possibly be looking over my shoulder? Now that's embarassing.

And now the fun part begins

2007-12-02T23:39:00.001+01:00

(I'm just gonna jump in here in the middle and we'll all pretend I haven't taken a year long hiatus from blogging.)

I've been writing. Fiction. It's fun, really. I started a short story and two secondary characters took over and said "Hey, we've got WAY more of teh awzome than those two!" So I went with it. What I was hoping would turn out around 15k words turned into 25k. Whoo-hoo, now that's a problem I can work with.

But I'm at the editing stage. I don't like the editing stage. Rewriting entire scenes from a different POV? That's ok, kind of interesting. Searching for the random 3s because my nails were too long while I was typing and I hit the 3 along with the E key? Not so fun.

Everyone Needs A Spare

Unreliable narrator

Jazz Baby's new review

Fuck mediocrity

Winner!

My mind is beyond lost....with contest!

Winner!

Opposites - With Prizes!

Jazz Baby is officially out!

A playlist!

Jazz Baby has a cover!

5 Questions

Arrival!

48 hours.....

Pity party - everyone's invited!

Jeeze, just calm down already!

"I ain't got nobody"

triumph!

My pretties may not be your pretties....

RWA Nationals

Mi Vida Loca (Did I spell that right?)

Ok, so maybe I am.

Damn, they got me good

Every so often. . .

These people breed?

"Cheating" heros?

It's practically one of the entry rules

God what an awful movie. . .

Ah, Twitter, feeding my neurosis. . .

Tell me where I went wrong

Oh whatever!

From Here to Eternity

[Insert Evil Laugh Here]

Hey look, I'm apparently the worst mother in the world!

Because easy content is awesome. . . .

I'm over there --->

On second thought, maybe these topics don't go together

Some day this will qualify as a "real" job

SYTYCD Australia!

Woops!

TIGBFB

What we do for fashion

Chapter Eight!

Ta-da!

The Italian Gourmet-Baby-Food Baron's Ironically Pregnant Virgin Mistress

Vewy Intewesting. . .

3:10 to Yuma (Spoilers ahoy!)

WTF?

Where did this kid come from?

accumulated randomness

Do you like me? Check yes or no.

sleep, precious sleep. . .

Overheard in my house

From the Annals of Smart-assery

At the carnival

holy cow

This might be a little macabre. . .

It's meme time - again!

Oh yumminess. . .

This is where romance novel covers come from

Look, a meme!

Look, I have a book!

Just call me Typhoid Mary

busy

My latest guilty pleasure. . . or not

Sure I'm a tard, but little things make me happy.

why don't cars just *go* and that's it?

title, shmitle

Holy craptacular, Batman!

I'm so lame, I give myself memes

Two months!

Yes, I know I'm easily annoyed

The Winner!

Presenting: The Finalists

Oh whee!

Fond Farewell and Free Stuff

Firefly and assorted other bits (Contest soon!)

North and South

New crushes for me

Once upon a time. . .

why don't cars just go and that's it?