Was there really ever any question?

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Literature Nerd Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it's eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today's society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It's okay. I understand.
Drama Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Social Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Musician
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Finally!

I've changed the Word of the Week after, I don't know, a month or so ... ah, well. Ken and I gave up eating meat for Lent. Not that we're that religious or anything, but the both of us want to be a bit healthier, and forty days without meat looked like as good of way as any. We decided we'd eat fish, but no beef, chicken, or pork. I haven't eaten cow in two or three years or something so I didn't think it would be that big a deal.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time.

I find myself daydreaming about sub sandwiches with pepperoni and salami. I crave a barbecue pulled-pork sandwich. BBQ-chicken pizza with jalepenos and onions? Bring it on. I haven't had my favorite spinach salad from a local restaurant since January because it's got real bacon on it. Aaaggghh! I have, however, eaten more fried food in the past month than I had the six months prior. Fried shrimp, fried fish sandwiches, fried cheese ... blech. Not to mention those wonderfully nutritious frozen fish sticks and fish fillets. The upshot is Ken has eaten more vegetables, and I always try to get him to do that.

Easter Sunday, we're going out for breakfast to eat sausage and bacon. The afore-mentioned subs for lunch. And then Mexican for dinner so Ken can have a Steak quesadilla. I will probably have chicken of some sort. I can't wait.

On a completely unrelated note, I got an e-mail from the editor of Pandora's Closet yesterday--the cover design is complete! She included a jpg of it, and I'll post it once she gives me the okay. I'm sure it would be fine--it's publicity and all, you know--but I don't want to break any rules or anything. The best part about the cover? My name is on the back. Right there with all the other real authors. Kelly Swails! That's me! I got a little teary-eyed when I saw it.

good news!

I just learned that Jodi Meadows (you know, that chick on the blog list column over there on your left) has obtained a Fancy Agent. Who is this Fancy Agent, you might ask? Why, it's Jenny Rappaport (yep, the same one that's on the same list over there on your left). Go congratulate them both, if you're so inclined.

I'm a writing fool! Or maybe just a fool. You decide.

Tomorrow "Last Man Standing" heads off to Cemetery Dance Magazine. Fingers crossed!

And you know that YA book I yammer about from time to time? The one I tried to write without an outline? Yeah, I'm scraping it and starting over with an outline this time. Ken (also known as The Idea Man) gave me a few suggestions, and with some of the material I have, I think this next draft is going to rock hard. I'm keeping some stuff, taking a lot out, changing a few things ... it's going to be good. I've worked on the outline for the past few days--I'll continue to mess with it, I'm sure--and last night I wrote the first chapter. It's actually more of a prologue than a chapter but what the hell. The last book jumped around to four different characters. While I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing, I felt like I didn't really get to know any of the characters. Also, the first time I had it in my head this was Max's story, but it's really Zoey's, I think. There will be a few chapters from Max's POV to deepen the intrigue and mystery, but mostly it's going to be from Zoey's POV. I'm bummed about losing this one scene from Tasha's POV--she lives in a trailer and her mom earns money working as a medium--and it showed her angst and bitterness and kept with the theme of "you can't deny who you are," but I'm consoling myself by saying the next book in the series (!) will be from Tasha's POV.

Can you tell I'm a little excited about this story again? My goal is to have a finished, polished draft by June 1st so I can begin the agent querying process. Fingers crossed!

Still rockin'

I got a rejection today from Weird Tales for "Last Man Standing." I sent it snail mail on March 2nd. To Florida. That must be a land-speed record or something. So I bought two old movies: True Lies and Fast Times at Ridgemont High. It's like comfort food, only better.

Back to the old drawing board. I'm selling this story. It refuses to die!

Good news!

I just received this e-mail from Jim Baen's Universe:
----
I'm sending this to let you know that "Rules of Engagement" has been forwarded for a final decision from our editor, Eric Flint.
----
Sweet! The letter went on to say basically "Eric's a busy guy, be patient" and gave me a link to track my submission. Rock on! Of course, I have to tell myself that Mr. Flint will surely reject the piece ... but still. He's lookin' at it! (Cue Eye of the Tiger.)


Oh, and before I completely space out, my writing bud Kelly McCullough has another book coming out in September. Go on over to amazon.com and order Cybermancy. If you didn't read Webmage, here's your chance to order that, too. You might as well jump on the cyberpunk bandwagon now; Kelly Y has sold two more books in the series, MythOS and Codespell. They'll be out in 2008 and 2009, respectively. You can say you knew him when.

3.14

First off, I ripped this off of Wil Wheaton's blog, so I'm not as geeky as I'm about to sound.

HAPPY PI DAY!

It's March 14 ... 3.14 ... get it? Pi? Math? Infinite number ... ? Ringin' any bells out there?

Okay, maybe I am geekier than I thought, because I'm having way too much fun with this. I just giggled a little.

Well.

I got a note from the editors of the pirate anthology today. Basically, they liked the story, but want me to make a whole lot of changes. Right now, I am completely logical and objective about them, and after I post this I'm going to start printing and hacking and changing. However, when I first read the comments, I freaked out. A lot of them were "too repetitive" and "show me, don't tell me" and "bad pronoun usage here" type things, and my writing-esteem hit an all-time low. I worked hard on that story, filtered it through several different readers, and I thought it was pretty damn good. Then I read the comments the editors gave it and all I saw was "you suck, Swails, and don't you forget it." Obviously, that's not what the editors said--they liked the story enough to work with me on it and if I make some changes it's got a good shot at being in the anthology--but that's what I heard my inner critic say. I was in a miserable mood for a half-hour, then Ken made me go for a two mile jog with him. After the run, a shower and dinner, my frame of mind has improved and I'm ready to tackle the rewrite. What makes me think I'm so perfect? Of course it's gonna need work. These editors have published dozens of books between them--they know what the hell they're talking about. Enough blogging--time to edit.

Word in Progress meme

Courtesy of Jodi Meadows.

Go to pages 123 of your current work in progess. If you aren't to page 123, go to page 23. If you're not to page 23, get busy and write until you are. Beginning with the fifth sentence from the top of the page, copy the entire paragraph.

From my YA book:

Clunks of metal downstairs made her pause. She didn’t know what it was, but it sounded heavy, and it was probably intended for her. Or Max. A man yelled—it sounded like the man that had visited her—and she began to work faster. She didn’t intend to be in this room when he came back more hurt and angry than he had been when he’d left.

This is from my first draft. I haven't read it in a while, and it's actually not so bad. Yeah, it needs some work ... but it's not terrible. I love when that happens.

I rock even more today!

Another rejection, this one from Intergalactic Medicine Show for "Mark of a Woman." Definitely some new workout clothes on the horizon for me. Tomorrow I'd like to do a 7:30 spinning class, go shopping, work on my YA book, and send out "Mark of a Woman" and "Rules of Engagement." Busy day.

And now it's time to watch Illinois kick Indiana's ass.

That's right, I rock.

Another rejection today, this one from Realms of Fantasy for "Rules of Engagement." This story is basically a chick-lit story set in the same world as my trilogy; the books are set in medieval times and the story is modern, but both have the same rules of magic and such. A lot of chick-lit in the fantasy genre revolves around vampire-love or a "it's hard out there for a witch" theme, and this story is neither. The protagonist is a woman who likes her one-night stands and tries her best to love-and-leave a magi (the dudes who perform magic in my world) but is surprised to find that breaking the magi etiquette rules makes the dude want her more. I say all of this because now that ROF has rejected it, I'm kind of at a loss as to where to send it. Anyone with any ideas, shout 'em out. I'll probably peruse my resources and send it out this weekend.

Of course, this means I can buy something to reward myself, but I haven't really thought about what I want. Maybe some cool new workout clothes or a new pair of running shoes. Spring is on its way, you know ... it's going to be 60 degrees this weekend! (Shut up, Bridget). Speaking of working out, I tried a Body Jam class at the gym last night, and I loved it! My whole body is a little stiff and creaky. The class consisted of little mini-routines with steps pulled from ballet, jazz, hip-hop, and salsa dancing. In a past life I was a dancer, I swear. I don't mean I'm good at all--I would put myself as an average dancer--but in my head I was all about the performance, baby! I wasn't shy at all about working it. I'll definitely take the class once a week.

I submitted a story to a pirate anthology a few days ago. The editor had extended me an invitation at the beginning of February, and I managed to get my story in three weeks before the deadline and 600 words under the limit. Hopefully I'll know within the next week or so if I'm accepted. This is the good news I've been alluding to for a while. Fingers crossed!

A question

On ew.com there's a discussion going on about favorite books. An editor, J. Peder Zane, asked 125 contemporary authors to name their 10 favorite books. Your list says a lot about you, I think, so I put some thought into it and came up with mine. These are in no particular order.

1. The Stand by Stephen King
2. The Genesis Code by John Case
3. Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder
4. Jhereg by Steven Brust
5. The Dragon Reborn by Robert Jordan
6. My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult
7. Go Ask Alice by Anonymous
8. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
9. The Cat Ate My Gymsuit by Paula Danziger
10. The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson

For a fantasy/horror/sci-fi writer, you'd think there'd be an Asimov or a Sagan somewhere in this list, but I tried to include childhood favorites as well as more recent reads. I also tried to include a book from each of my favorite series. I should note that I only read the Jodi Picoult book because it was a book club selection, and I left off The Lies of Locke Lamora since, having read it so recently, I might be biased. I should also note that this list--like I suspect yours would be--is fluid. Ask me three months from now and half the list might be different., though The Stand would remain at the top.

What's your list? Don't want to list 10? Shoot for five.

Oh, as an aside: A few days ago I reread The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier. I can see why some of my friend's parents wouldn't want them to read it--it's set in a private boys school, and there are numerous references to masturbation and tits--but it's got nothing on Judy Blume, I think. My memory was right in that the basic theme is how shitty kids can be to each other; what I didn't remember was how dark the book is. Not only are Cormier's adolescent characters willfully cruel, an adult teacher uses blackmail and bribery on the students to save his own hide. The good guys not only don't win in the end, they get their asses kicked. It's a poignant portrait of how solitude, peer pressure, and the group dynamic are an integral part of our academic experience. Having said that, the plot is a little threadbare and jumpy; the narrative is overly wordy and skips around to a lot of characters who ultimately have no bearing on the story; some plot points are overwrought and unrealistic. This is, however, coming from an adult writer re-reading a YA book with a critical eye and the question "could I do this as well or better?" in her mind.

blah

Today I feel fat, sluggish, and unmotivated. To cure this, I'm going to pay bills and go to the gym. Tomorrow I will do laundry and work on my YA novel. Ken has suggested we do a half-marathon in September; if that's the case, I need to start running. The only aspect of running I like is finishing. I suppose, then, to get to the part I like, I need to start. Grrrr. So at the gym I'll do the treadmill and jump rope and lift weights.

I sent "Last Man Standing" to Weird Tales the other day. Fingers crossed!

Day off

Tomorrow I have the day off because I work the weekend. This means:
1. I can stay up late tonight. ("Late" is a relative term here. I might make it until 11:00 p.m.)
2. I have to clean house tomorrow because we're getting (drum roll, please) new living room furniture delivered on Saturday! Oh, yeah, baby. Two new couches and two recliners. This of course means we have to get end tables, coffee tables, and possibly an entryway table. This also means our living room will finally look like adults live in our house.
3. I can play poker and watch "Jericho" in between bouts of cleaning.
4. I can get some writing done in the afternoon. I haven't written anything since a few days before Bailey died. Now that I'm not wallowing in misery anymore, I find that I want to get back to the laptop to put the pictures in my head on paper. (I'm going to try a metaphor here. Before, my grief was like wearing tight clothes over a blistered sunburn: constant pain. Now, it's like muscles after a moderate workout: it hurts, but only if I move the right way. I didn't phrase that well but it's pretty accurate, I think.)

On the writing front, I'm gathering opinions about the last story I finished. If all goes well, I may have some good news about it soon. Stay tuned.

My mom has arraigned a book signing for me in my hometown. A mother of a childhood friend of mine runs a gift shop, and she wants to host a book-signing for me. So I need to write a press release for the hometown paper, buy a case of books wholesale for Janice to sell in her shop, and maybe set up a photo-op of me donating a few books to the library. Oh, and let's not forget have Ken take a good picture of me to run with the blurb in the paper. Yeah, it sort of seems a bit much for one story in one anthology, but what the hell. It's a "hometown-girl-makes-good" type thing, and it's never to early to cultivate fans, I say. If anyone has any advice about the press-release, I'm all ears.

rejection

In all the hulabaloo I forgot to mention I received a rejection from Asimov's for "Last Man Standing" on Saturday. To tell you the truth I sort of forgot about it until I saw the letter on my desk tonight. I'm going to hold onto it for a few weeks and then send it to Weird Tales. Fingers crossed!

Happy birthday to me

I'm officially 32 today! Well, I guess it's not official until 8:05 p.m., but you get the idea. I have to say this is the crappiest birthday I've ever had, with Bailey dying two days ago and all. I'm beginning to get used to the idea that she's not here. I'm not on the verge of crying all the time, but it still doesn't take too much to push me over the edge. Saturday night we went out for dinner at Red Lobster with friends of ours. Ken and I both had a fish dinner and a glass of Bailey's on the rocks. It was a nice tribute. At one point in the evening I joked that in 12 years when Moonshine passes away, drinking a glass of moonshine's gonna be a bitch. I have a feeling we'll do it, though.

Ken had mentioned maybe getting a new kitty, not right away, but ya know ... sometime. I don't know. I look at the other three cats like little ticking time bombs, and I think to myself that I can't handle going through this anguish three more times. But then I think that Bailey had 12-1/2 great years with us, and the other cats have a pretty good life, so maybe it is worth it. Sure, there's a crappy month or so when they pass ... but all the happy times before hand make up for it. I don't want a new cat anytime soon, but I might be open to the suggestion this summer.

As for birthday festivities, we went out to breakfast with friends (yum), I'm going to color my hair (I'm going to be brave and try strawberry blonde) and I think I'd like to go get a manicure. I may or may not go buy a new FM transmitter for my iPod--my old one crapped out and I really like listening to the iPod on long trips. Then tonight Ken and I will probably watch The Departed and "Heroes" on TV while eating german chocolate cake. No worries--tomorrow night after work we're going out to happy hour with some of my work friends so I'll be sure to kick back a few cold ones then.

Bailey Swails, 1994-2007

Bailey died this morning, probably of a heart attack or stroke. She was lying on the back of the couch, fell as she began to convulse, then she was gone. She was quite lovey this morning, all about getting pets and giving big purrs.

The house feels empty now.

snow day part deux

Note the little kiddie plastic shovel. That baby set me back two bucks!

Snow. Day.

Oh, yeah! Having 10-15 inches of snow fall on your head during blizzard-like conditions pays off! I didn't go to work today--no way was I going to brave the interstate during a drifting, blowing, snow storming mess--and my manager just called to tell me not to come in tomorrow. Woooohooo! Rock on! Okay, I did feel guilty about not going in to work--one of my friend/co-workers lives in my town and made it in fine--but being told to stay home tomorrow erased all guilt. So far Ken and I have played my poker video game, made chocolate-chip pancakes and cheesy hash browns, read a homework assignment (Ken) and polished a new short story (me). We threw some chicken in the crock pot to eat tonight while we watch a movie, and I'm probably going to get ambitious here in a bit and make chocolate chip cookies and heart-shaped sugar cookies. Yeah, it sucks that I'll have to use up two days of paid leave, but Yippee! Snow days rule! I almost want to go outside and build a snow fort. Almost.

Best Survivor Ever

Last night I watched the first episode of "Survivor: Fiji." It had probably the funniest moment of the whole franchise. All nineteen Survivors were given the task of building a shelter. They have been provided materials, tools, and a blueprint of sorts.

Sylvia: (a.k.a. Middle-aged Architect Chick): This board is slightly askew, it's gonna throw the whole thing off.
Rocky (a.k.a. Young Dumb Bostonian): Askew? Ascoot? A-S-C-O-O-T?
MAC: No, askew.
YDB: If you're goin' throw around big words, ya gotta tell us what they mean.
MAC: It means not orthogonal.

Ken and I cracked up, composed ourselves, then rewound it and watched it again. Classic.

Book Review

I'm officially on the stump for Scott Lynch's The Lies of Locke Lamora. I haven't had this much fun reading a book in a long time. It's like Ocean's Eleven, The Pirates of the Caribbean, and The Godfather all rolled into to one story. And the cursing! Lynch's creativity when it comes to swearing is astounding. Sure, the story lags a bit in the third act but the action at the very end makes up for it. I can't recommend this one enough. Apparently Lynch has signed a seven-book contract (This is an unbelievably huge deal for a rookie author--Lies is his first book) and so there will be six more forthcoming. Count me in.

Maybe I'll make the ladies in my book club read this when my month comes up. Mwaa-haa-haa.

Tell me about your first time

No, not that first time--I mean the first time you read a book with sex in it and then re-read the scene on purpose. There's a discussion going on on Jenny Rappaport's blog about "dirty" books we read as kids. It's such a great topic that I'm bringing it over here. The article that started it all was on ew.com.

A lot of the books--Clan of the Cave Bear, Scruples, Hawaii--that are mentioned I've never read, but I've got a few of my own. My mom was into romance novels, and there were a few that, while I never read the whole thing, I did have a few page numbers memorized.

I'll start my list with the Judy Blume books. She was a one-woman sexual education machine.

Then Again, Maybe I Won't. This was one of the first books I read that had a male protagonist written in the first person. The scene that immediately comes to mind is when the protagonist gets a boner in algebra class and the teacher calls him to the front of the room to work an equation.

Deenie. This was one of the first books I read that explicity talks about masturbation.

Are You There, God? It's me, Margaret. All about periods, baby.

Tiger Eyes. I don't remember if this book talked about sex; I remember it mostly because of the horrific death scenes.

And other authors:

Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews. I remember reading this book during summer vacation before my freshman year in high school. At one point (if memory serves, I was sitting on the couch reading a particularly juicy scene) when my mom asked, "Is there anything in there I wouldn't want you to read?" "No," I said, praying I didn't look guilty. She bought it, and I continued to read about Chris and Cathy, the siblings that became lovers when they were locked in an attic.

Christine by Stephen King. My dad gave this to me freshman year in high school, and I didn't look back. I read anything by King I could get my hands on.

The Chocolate War by Robert ... Cormier, I think. I don't remember what this book is about specifically--I think it's about how shitty kids can be to each other--but I remember that some parents didn't want their kid to read it, so of course I did.


I'm sure there are others, but this is a good start. When I think about it, my upbringing was sort of strange. My parents didn't really talk to me about sex at all, but they let me read pretty much whatever I wanted. Maybe they figured if I learned about it through literature they wouldn't have to have "the talk" with me. All I know is, reading has always been a huge part of my life, even as far back as kindergarten, and it obviously continues to be. One of the reasons I want to be a writer is to open up different worlds for younger readers. If twenty years from now somebody said, "I learned about sex/relationships/how cool the world could be from reading [insert wildly creative title for my four-wizard book here] in the sixth grade," I could die a happy woman. Sigh.

But enough about my internal writer angst. What "dirty" books shaped your childhood?

productive morning

This morning I have:
-Sent "Sudden Death" to Glimmer Train Stories. I ended up just making it a regular submission as opposed to a contest entry. Sure, the contest would have paid more, had I won, and there is a certain amount of prestige in being an "award winning author," but ... hmm. Now that I think about it, I don't know why I didn't enter it into the contest. Actually, I still can. Their website says you can submit the same story as a regular submission and a contest entry if it qualifies for both. Maybe I'll mosey on over and do that.
-Sent "Rules of Engagement" to Realms of Fantasy. I swear, these people are going to get sick of me. They send me a rejection and I turn around and send them another story right back. Same with Asimov's and Fantasy and Science Fiction. If I swing the bat enough times, I'll hit the ball sooner or later.
-Sent "The Brethren" to Book of Dark Wisdom. Actually, I'll be doing this tomorrow evening, as their website says they're not open for submissions until February 1st, but I got the story ready to go today.
-Printed a draft of "the four wizard book." I really need to come up with a better working title. I need to bust a move on this so I can actually start querying it. It's not going to write itself, dammit. It's really rough, but it's got potential.
-After I log off, I'm heading to the gym.

It's mornings like this that make me miss working evenings. Though, if I want to be honest with myself, when I worked evenings I wouldn't even be out of bed yet and so I wouldn't have been so productive. I just miss not waking up to an alarm.

Back from the Quad

Ken's grandmother's funeral was today. There isn't really too much to say about it other than Ken's family buries people completely different than mine does. My father's side, anyway. His family is Catholic, and so there was an hour-long funeral mass at the church as well as a graveside service (which was actually in a mausoleum because of the weather). When we buried my paternal grandmother a few years ago, we only had a graveside service. The whole thing took twenty minutes. Then we went to a local church to eat lunch. If someone younger dies, we have a visitation at the funeral home the night before ... but my father's side isn't religious at all, so they don't have church services. I don't think I've attended a funeral for my mother's side yet, so I don't know what they would do. I think they'd probably have a church service.

Oh, there was one notable occurrence: in the mausoleum, there were several vaults that had been purchased, and instead of a "Purchased for future need" plaque, they had a name, date of birth, and a blank date of death. I'm not entirely certain I'd put my name on a tomb before I had to. Talk about looking your own mortality in the eye. It gave me the creeps.

On the writing front, I received a rejection from Realms of Fantasy today for "Sudden Death." You know what this means--I get to buy my poker game now! Woooohoooo! Oh, yeah, I get to send if off again, though not exactly sure to whom. I had toyed with entering it into Glimmer Train's Very Short Fiction Award contest--the winner gets a big chunk 'o change--but it'll basically take it out of circulation until May 1st, which is the stated response time. I have a few days to decide.

new addiction

Actually, it's more of a renewed addiction: OPI's Lincoln Park After Dark nail polish. It's a wonderful shade of purple that is so dark it's almost black. I'd call it Eggplant. They've got a new shade, Lincoln Park At Midnight, that is exactly the same except with a little bit of shimmer. Yeah, it's a little bit goth and a little bit dangerous, and I like it. It's just how I roll.

Working on a new story. I don't want to say much about it yet ... but I might have some good news soon. Maybe. I don't want to jinx myself.

Speaking of no news, my mail lady is still delivering only bills, magazines, and junk mail. No rejections and no acceptances. How the hell am I supposed to buy World Series of Poker 2007 for the XBox 360 if I don't hear anything? Bah!

Sad news: Ken's grandmother passed away yesterday. She was in the nursing home, and we all knew it was coming, but still. Death sucks. (I love that I'm a writer and can't be any more eloquent than that. Yeah, that's sarcasm.) So another trip to the Quad Cities, which will make three trips in a little over a month.

Going to go do cycling at the gym tonight, and tomorrow I'm going to try to do Yoga Booty Ballet at home. It depends on travel plans. This extra ten pounds I've found has got to go.

BEARS WIN!!!! COLTS WIN!!!!

Enough said.

Night out

Last night a few girlfriends and I headed out to Soma Ultralounge for a night of drunken debauchery. It was a good time, except that we were there relatively early (from around 9-11) and they hadn't started to play decent dance music yet, so I didn't get my groove on nearly as much as I wanted to. Bah. I haven't had a night out at the bars with the girls in ... jeez ... a long time. I'm such an old married woman.

Today Ken is in Indy getting his geek on with a friend of his--there's some sort of gaming tournament over there--and so I'm home alone. First, I'm going to do some grocery shopping, and then I'm going to watch The Devil Wears Prada and Walk the Line while I eat tomato soup and grilled cheese. I might even bake a cake. I won't, however, do any laundry. I'll do that while watching the Bears and Colts win their respective football games tomorrow.

Golden Globes

I had toyed with the idea of live blogging the Golden Globes tonight, but frankly, I'm too busy watching it to do that. For me, the GG's are fun to watch for two reasons: 1. by the end of the night everyone is drunk, and 2. lip-reading the audience members. A few years ago I swear I saw that chick from Weeds say "what a bitch" about Meryl Streep. Snarkiness at its finest!

Yeah, so this means I'm not getting a lot of writing done tonight. Tomorrow, three things: work, gym, write. In that order. Oh, and I'll probably eat, too, but that's not important.

Ick

Today we just got back from the Quad Cities. Ken's mom had an episode yesterday where her potassium dropped critically low. Her heart actually stopped a few times, and they had to perform emergency surgery to install a pacemaker. Scary stuff. Perhaps it's inevitable--everyone time I see an ICU unit I think of my dad and all the crap he endured. (His surgical history is a blog entry onto itself. One day when I'm feeling more spunky or more melancoly I'll go into it.) She went home today with a prescription for potassium and instructions not to drive or raise her arm above her head for four weeks. Why did her potassium drop so low? Every nurse I asked shrugged her shoulders, and I never did see a doctor. Stupid healthcare system. Working in healthcare makes being a patient/family member of a patient even more frustrating. I know basically how the system works and so it really pisses me off when I don't see it done right. End of rant.

Mark Your Calendars!!!

I surfed over to Amazon.com just now and discovered Pandora's Closet has a listing! For those of you who may have forgotten, that's the anthology my short story is going to appear in. I just happen to have a link for it here, so you can skip on over and reserve your copy now. I'm so frickin' jazzed about this, can you tell? I'm going to try to have a book-signing at a local bookstore when it comes out--I have some boisterous co-workers that have promised to buy copies and make a scene, so I won't feel completely like a poser.

On a sobering note, no rejections or acceptances today. This week, in addition to working on stories and books, I'm going to work on agent queries and a new synopsis for my trilogy/duology. Lots of stuff to keep me busy. Yeah, yeah, I've fallen short of my New Year's resolutions--I did finish a short story last week, but it's a rough draft and not ready for submission--but I have definitely been writing more consistently, and that's the main goal, anyway. For some reason I just feel like I'm going to sell more stories this year. Eternally optimistic, that's me.

goodies

As you may remember, I'm rewarding myself each time I get another rejection. It's a way to keep my spirits up, my head above water, etc. etc. etc. Here's some of the things on my list of rejection goodies:
1. The 2007 World Series of Poker game for XBox 360
2. A manicure
3. A pedicure
4. A computer program to let me design kick-ass stationary, address labels, business cards, etc. If any of you out there in blog-land has any suggestions for one, I'd love to hear 'em
5. The Bare Escentuals starter foundation kit--what can I say? I'm a sucker for a good infomercial, and I'm always looking for better make-up.
Of course, there's always the ubiquitous books and movies I want to add to my collection. There's nothing like a good carrot to get you back in front of the laptop.

As you can see, I've updated the WOW and my most recent reads. I'm working on The Lies of Locke Lamora now, and so far it's pretty good. Private is a YA book about a sophomore in high school that goes to--you guessed it--a private boarding school. Popularity angst and all that. I read it mostly because I wanted to reassure myself that my writing is as good as what's out there, and that the book I'm working on is indeed a YA book. I've been reassured on both counts. Plus, I got sucked into it at the bookstore. Go, Kate Brian and team.

disappointment

Tonight after work Ken and I went into town to go to a pancake house for dinner. On a wet, rainy, cold, miserable day, there's nothing better than breakfast food--maybe an omelet and some pancakes--with some nice hot chocolate. But when we got there--dun-dun-dun--the place was CLOSED!! Bah! Our second choice was a diner that we go to every few months but that was more driving that we wanted to do, and the third choice was IHOP which is on campus and who wants to deal with that mess? Mostly it was just having our dreams of fluffy omelets and apple pancakes dashed that killed the mood for us. So we came home and had cereal. I had hot Grape-nuts, but it wasn't the same.

I have tomorrow off--I work the weekend--so I'm hoping to get one short-story done tomorrow. I sort of cheated, because it's a story I had already started that I'm revamping, but still. It'll be a story done this week.

Happy New Year, peeps!

Hope everyone out there in blog-land is hangover-free and well-rested today. Me, not so much. I'm not hungover from my New Year's Eve revelries, but I am tired. Last night Ken and I went to a friend's house (the couple we had a date with a few weeks ago) and had a low-key evening of board games and pool. That is, it was low-key until the ball dropped at midnight and we broke out the champagne. The husband, "R", and I got a little rowdy while "A" and my husband tried to reign us in. I defy you to locate a more spirited game of Uno Attack than the one we had. I slept it off pretty well, though.

After we woke up and got some food in our bellies, Ken and I shopped like people possessed. We bought discounted Christmas wrapping paper and gift bags, Christmas cards, a small Christmas tree, towels for the kitchen, and living room furniture. As in, we bought two love seats and two recliners. As in, we spent an hour-and-a-half picking out fabrics. It'll be delivered in around eight weeks. It goes without saying that I'll post pics once it arrives. I'm really pretty stoked about it.

Changing gears, here's a listing of my New Year's Resolutions:
1. Exercise every day, even if it's just for ten minutes
2. Write every day, even if it's just for a half-hour
3. Complete a first draft of a short-story every week
4. Complete a first draft of my YA book by my birthday (February 19). Yeah, yeah, this is the same frickin' book I've been workin' on for months. I know, I know.
5. Submit a story to a market each week

Yeah, they're lofty goals, but I look at it this way: meeting 50% of each of them is still working towards my ultimate goals (getting back in shape and becoming a professional writer) and if I meet 100% of all of them I'll be kicking major ass.

funny commercial

Ken and I watched "The Funniest Commercials of 2006" on TBS the other night, and this one cracked me up. I've never seen it on TV other than the show; from the length, I suspect it's meant to be passed around the internet. Consider it passed.

Harris's pizza=necter of the gods

I posted a comment to the last post saying that I was going to make "Everybody has to do their own yoga" as my new mantra. Yeah, that's been replaced. Maybe "replaced" is too strong a word. For certain situations, my new saying is so much more enjoyable. First, a background: last night, Ken and I went to a Christmas party at a friend's house. The husband, I'll call him ... "C", has a wicked sense of humor. He's great for metaphors--last year I came home with the gem "She's like a radio that's almost on the right station, but not quite. She's a little off." I still gotta work that into a story somewhere, and I guess that's really a simile and not a metaphor, but whatever. The point is, last night he said about his wife, "She's always got one pedal to the floor, full speed or dead stop. There's no in between. You gotta drive it like you stole it." So that's my new thing. "Drive it like you stole it." Genius.

Yesterday we also visited Ken's family for Christmas. It was good, with Harris's Pizza and Christmas booty. Our niece and nephew are in high school and they're getting so grown-up! They were in our wedding, for crissake, they aren't supposed to be driving and snuggling on the couch with their boyfriend. Aaargh!

Christmas time is here ...

Got most of the Christmas shopping done and put up the Christmas tree yesterday, so I'm finally getting some Christmas cheer. Seeing the in-laws on Saturday and my parents next weekend, so there is some good Christmas booty in my future. Tonight I'm wrapping gifts, watching a Christmas movie, and reading. I'm not going to feel guilty about not going to the gym and not writing. Though, I got another rejection today, so I have to resubmit it somewhere tonight. I can do that.

Why is it when I read a good hook or idea or something that someone else has written, my first thought is "Damn, that's good, I so want to read this book/story" and the second is "All of my work sucks, I can't do as good as that. Maybe I really should throw in the towel?" Why can't I get it through my head that just because someone else is talented, that fact does not make me untalented? Stupid writing angst.

Ta-da!

Here's pictures of the kitchen, as promised. In the pictures it looks pink, but it's more of a pinkish-brown. That's such a chick distinction to make. The dining room--which you can see in the second picture if you squint--is a burgundy/cranberry color, and our living room is tan, so the kitchen flows a lot better than it did. Before last weekend, it had yellow walls, blue curtains, and yellow/blue accessories. I still need to buy towels and a sheer to go over the kitchen sink. Right now I feel a litte exposed at night.

Yesterday I received a rejection for the first book of my trilogy. Bah. Though, the rejection letter said, "while there was much to recommend the writing," it wasn't for them. Onward. I've been adding to my short-story idea log for the next year, and the current book is coming along nicely. I've lost a pound or two, and I've actually started Christmas shopping instead of just talking about it. Life is good.

Last night Ken and I had a "couple date." We went out to dinner with a co-worker of mine and his wife, and we all seemed to hit it off. These things only work if all four people click--one wife can't hate the other husband or worse, the other wife, that sort of thing--and I think we did. Afterwards, we went to their house to play games. We played the variation of Uno with the contraption that spits cards out at you, then two rounds of Pictionary. They actually wanted to play Pictionary first, but we chose Uno, and I found out after we left Ken had the same reasoning I did: Pictionary was the game we played with Bridget and Jimmy, and we didn't want to make any new Pictionary memories. They really wanted to play after we got done with Uno, though, and we couldn't protest without looking like idiots, so we did it. We had fun, but it was a little bittersweet for us, I think. For the record, we played Uno with B and J too, but it was old-school Uno, and so playing the new kind didn't seem like such a betrayal to me. Perhaps "betrayal" is too harsh a word. It's close, though.

this and that

Friday night Ken and I saw a Lotus Elise in our hometown. The license plate read "UOMERNT", so we figured it was one of the super-rich rental property owners that populate our college town. It immediately made me think of the scene in Pretty Woman, when Richard Gere's character pulls over for Julia Robert's character, and J.R. says to her hooker friend, "That's a Lotus Esprit" and Laura San Giacamo's characters says, "No, that's rent."

This weekend I got no writing done because I repainted the kitchen. I wanted it to look sort of like an italian villa, and I think we pulled it off. I'll post pictures once it's all back in order. Now all of my muscles hurt, as well as my hands and feet. I'm tired. I'm going to shower and lay around and veg for the rest of the day.

influences

On the Wyrdsmith's blog there's a discussion going on now about which authors influenced the writers. I thought I would give it a go. Here they are, in semi-cronological order:

Laura Ingalls Wilder
The various authors of Choose-your-own-Adventure books. I don't remember anyone specific, but I loved those books.
The Encyclopedia Brown books
Paula Danziger
Judy Bloom (what self-respecting girl would leave her off the list?)
Phyllis A. Whitney
Agatha Christie
Edgar Allen Poe
Stephen King (he's one of the bigger influences, I'll admit)
Dean Koontz
J.K. Rowling
Robert Jordan (I know, I know, but I can't help it. Just because he's dragged the story on for six books too long doesn't mean he didn't create a kick-ass world.)
Steven Brust

What's the common thread with these authors? Off the top of my head, I think Danziger, Bloom, King, Rowling and Brust write characters you want to give a damn about, while Whitney, Christie, Poe, and Jordan weave a fine tale. Not that King's storytelling is lacking or Jordan's characters suck, but this is what sticks in my head when I think of these authors. Mostly, they entertained me/scared me/made me think, and that's why they resonate with me. Ah, to do that for somebody else. Someday.

an addition or three

I've added a link to Paul Genesse's website, a link to the book I'm reading for the suburban-housewife book club, and a new Word of the Week. This word, pulchritude, makes me think of Vicki Sharrow and the fifth grade. Our class had to put together a newsletter during a journalism unit; our job was to do "man on the street" interviews about a vocabulary word. We went to my house, sat at my kitchen table, opened up the dictionary, closed our eyes, and pointed. Pulchritude was the winner. Of all the people we stopped--I don't remember how many--only one man that lived next to Vicki knew what it was. Funny, the things you remember.

Insanity

When I filled in my submission spreadsheet just now, I noticed that F&SF has had really quick turnaround-times for my last two submissions. This means either one of two things: 1. They recognize my name, think, "Hey, maybe this one we'll buy" and read it quick or 2. they recognize my name, say, "Crap. Not another one from her. Let's get this over with." and read it quick.

Or maybe they're just having a slow time of year.

I've gotta stop thinking about this. I'm going to bed.

Love note from F&SF

Thank you for submitting "Sudden Death," but I'm going to pass on it. This tale didn't grab my interest, I'm afraid. Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way.

On to "Realms of Fantasy."

I swear you have to be a little bit insane to want to do this for a living.

Winter Storm

We've survived the first winter storm of the year. Actually, in my neck of the woods, we got off pretty light--a little freezing rain, a little ice, a few inches of snow. Our power did go off during the ice storm, though, and stayed off for about 20 hours. That sucked.

Second round of vet visits for the kitties. Kahlua had to go back and get three rotten teeth pulled--poor kitty--and Moonshine and Bailey went for their shots. Actually, only Moonshine ended up getting her boosters. The vet heard a heart murmur/arrhythmia in Bailey, and she had also lost 3 pounds, so the vet was concerned. She drew some blood work to check for hyperthyroidism and liver/kidney function. Turns out she has some kidney issues. Next week when I take Kahlua back for his post-op appointment I'll talk with the vet about low-sodium food for Bailey. At this point I don't know how serious it is--will the special food be enough to resolve the issue, or is this basically the beginning of the end? I don't even want to think about that. Bailey's 12 years old, and I can't really picture life without her. I know it will happen eventually ... I just don't want it to happen quite yet.

The other day Ken pulled a word--accouterments--out of nowhere. He called the cats his accouterments, and it ispired me to make a "word of the week" feature for the blog. I was going to do a "word of the day," but who am I kidding? That's too much pressure. Let's shoot for "word of the week" and see how it goes.

Publishing news

I found out today that my writing bud Paul Genesse sold his first book! Five Star Publishing (a small press) is publishing the first book of the Iron Dragon series called The Golden Cord. It's coming out in hardcover late 2008. This is such good news for Paul, and I'm so excited for him. Although, I have to admit ... I can't wait until the day I announce I've sold a book. Hell, at this point I'd like to sell another frickin' story. I really don't want to be a one-hit wonder.
But this is not about me. Three cheers for Paul Genesse! We can say we knew him when.

Embracing my inner geek.

Instead of going to a movie to "celebrate" the rejection I received yesterday, I bought two CD's: The When Harry Met Sally soundtrack and All-Time top 100 TV Themes. Listening to the latter brings a smile to my face. It's broken up into 2 discs; here's my breakdown of the first one.

Six Feet Under: Haunting, yet lively. The only part of this show I saw was the last five minutes of the series finale on YouTube.

Sex and the City: Jaunty. This sounds like 1962 to me. I feel like I need to be eating off of pink-and-brown plates.

Ally McBeal: overplayed. Nice tune but it's too mainstream for me.

Will & Grace: I hear this and I see Jack. Just Jack! He went to Illinois State University, ya know.

Everybody Loves Raymond: Understated. I've really only ever watched this in reruns.Somehow the theme doesn't fit the show.

Frasier: Funny tune. Kelsey Grammer wrote and sang it, I think. I miss that show, sometimes. Niles ruled.

Friends: Jesus, talk about overplayed. Uck. Fast-forward.

Late Show with David Letterman: Interesting. I don't think I've ever really listened to this before. The world is divided into the Leno's, the Letterman's, and the people who are asleep. I am a sleeper.

Mad About You: This makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I think of late high-school and college. I took a break from moving out of my last college apartment to watch the series finale. I still think about that episode sometimes. I wouldn't mind owning it.

Melrose Place: I didn't actually watch this much. I do remember that some bars had "Melrose Mondays" where they had drink specials while the show was on.

Beverly Hills, 90210: I watched this show before it was cool to watch and I stopped right after they began college.

Law and Order: Jeez, what can I say about this? So iconic. I don't think you'd have to try to hard to watch an episode of L&O or one of the spin-offs for 24 hours straight. Somewhere there's an episode playing right now.

Northern Exposure. Fun song. I didn't watch this show very much, but I seem to recall there being a hot doctor. Every drama needs one.

The Simpsons: Another iconic theme. If you're not in the mood for L&O you can watch The Simpsons. I like the "Lisa plays the sax" part the best.

Thirtysomething: I was too young for this show. I can't remember if my mom watched it or not. The only thing I remember about it is people fighting alot.
For some reason this makes me think of that show with Claire Danes, her name was Angela, she kissed Jared Leto and her best friend was a drunk ... "My So-Called Life." Now there's a show.

Full House: How embarassing to admit I used to watch this show. Even more embarrassing is admitting I used to like it. I need to rent The Aristocrats to see Bob Sagat be crude.

21 Jump Street: Two words: Johnny Depp.

L.A. Law: Very 80's. Don't remember much about this show.

Pee-Wee's Playhouse: I can't listen to this without seeing a seedy porn theater in my head, which isn't really fair, but there it is.

Perfect Strangers: Ah, Balki. Who didn't like Balki? That guy was one of Tom Cruise's friends in Risky Business.

Growing Pains: Big smiles with this one. I may have had one or twelve Teen Beat pictures of Kirk Cameron on my wall back in the day.

Moonlighting: Nice tune. My mom and I used to watch "Moonlighting" and "Remington Steele" when I was an impressionable youngster.

Who's the Boss: More smiles. I was a huge fan of this show. I so wanted to be Samantha Micelli--a girl that could beat up a boy but lived in a kick-ass house.

Miami Vice: This is about as '80's and you can get. Synthesizers, drumbeats, horns. I liked that show, too. This makes me think of Don Johnson testing cocaine with his tongue.

Night Court: Loved this show! I especially liked Bull.

The A-team: I didn't watch this all that much, but I need to make Ken listen to this. I bet it'll make him smile. Then I can say, "See? It was worth twenty bucks."

St. Elsewhere: Now we're beginning to edge into the shows that I was a bit too young to really get into. Any show that has Denzel Washington and Howie Mandel as alumnus has street cred, though.

Cheers: Oh, this makes me feel safe and happy and sad inside all at the same time. I watched this show alot. Another iconic one that everyone one knows. "How I Met Your Mother" did a play on the "Norm!" business at the end of an episode a few weeks ago.

Knight Rider: Ah, Kitt. I remember this being so cool but I bet if I watched it now I wouldn't be able to stop laughing. Is David Hasselhoff still huge in Germany?

Cagney & Lacey: Didn't watch this at all. Didn't this play around the same time as "Kate and Allie?" I'm too deep in the nostalgia pool; I've lost all perspective.

The Greatest American Hero: Now, I did watch this. Around 1981, which would have been first grade for me. That I still know the words to this theme song speaks highly about the spong-like qualities of the young human brain.

Hill Street Blues: Didn't watch this, but I remember mom and dad watching it. Hearing this song makes me think of dark, rainy streets and big Ford cars. Was that the opening montage of the show?

Dynasty: Didn't watch this at all. I get this show and "Dallas" mixed up in my head. "Dynasty" had Joan Collins and "Dallas" had the whole "Who shot J.R." business, right?

Magnum, P.I.: Tom Selleck with a 'stach. He's got nothin' on MacGyver.

The Facts of Life: Aww, yeah! I remember there was an episode in one of the later seasons where Tootie loses her virginity. There was a little "This episode contains adult themes" thingy just before the episode, and of course my mother walks into the room just in time to read it. "What was that about?" she says. I give her the TV guide, because even though I know I don't want to have this conversation. She looks at the descriptions, decides I can watch it, then proceeds to leave. It wasn't as bad as it could have been; at least she didn't want to have a Meaningful Conversation about it afterwards.

Diff'rent Strokes: There was an episode of this where the older sister washes her hair with NYC rainwater and it turns green. Good times.

WKRP in Cincinnati: I remember watching this show a bit, but I was young enough that I didn't get the jokes about sex or drugs. Come to think of it, I didn't get this show at all.

Taxi: I think my dad like this show. We've been in the "3 stations to choose from" era for the second half of this disk, which is probably why I remember the themes even if I don't really remember the show. Odds are good that I've seen at least one episode of all them at one time or another.

Dallas: Ah, here it is. Yeah, still can't tell the difference.

Fantasy Island and The Love Boat: I'm combining these two because last Friday night Ken and I were bumming around the house, and at 8:00 he says "Fantasy Island Love Boat!" and I say, "What are you talking about" and he says "That's what you watch on Friday nights. At least, I did when I was a kid." and I say, "Yeah, that sounds familiar, but I don't remember it being on Friday nights." Wasn't on ABC?

Soap: Billy Crystal as a gay guy. Love that. I remember my mom watching this sometimes and I didn't get some of the jokes. Although, I did understand the whole soap-opera-satire business about it. My mom watched a lot of soaps, so I was totally down with it.

Eight is Enough: Too young for this, really. Or maybe we didn't really watch it.

Three's Company: I liked this show a lot as a kid. Sometimes I watch "The Class" now just to support Jason Ritter (that's Jack Ritter's son).

Wonder Woman: Didn't really watch this. It makes me think of Underroos, though. Remember those? I remember really wanting a set of "She-ra" Underroos.

Charlie's Angels: Didn't really watch this, either. Nice touch with the narration throughout the theme, though. Because we're too stupid to remember the conceit of the show from week to week, right?

The Muppet Show: Awww, yeah! Huge favorite of mine as a kid. I'm playing this one twice. Okay, three times. I loved the hecklers--I always forget their names--and Animal and Gonzo and ... hell, I loved it all. It's muppetational!

Alice: Watched this sometimes. Mel's diner, baby. Mel's diner.

What's Happening!!!: Never saw this.

Laverne & Shirley: I remember watching this alot in reruns. When I went to camp in second grade I told people I like Pepsi and milk. They never made me prove it, thank God. When I first started dating Ken, he had a murphy bed much like L&S's in the living room of his studio apartment. Yeah, I was totally creative and called it the "Laverne and Shirley" bed. I think in my friendships I tend to be the Laverne.

Okay, that was completely awesome. What rejection? I'll do the second disk some other time. The laundry is calling to me.

another one bites the dust

Got a rejection today for the "Love and Sacrifice" anthology. I'm really sort of in love with this story, and I'm bummed it didn't make the cut. Never fear; it's going out to F&SF tomorrow. John Joseph Adams is going to be sick of me by this time next year.

I'm sort of in a depressive funk now. I'm going to work on my book and let my characters do horrible things to the bad guys. That'll make me feel better. Probably won't keep any of it, but it'll be cathartic.

I have tomorrow off. Maybe I'll treat myself to a movie. I've been wanting to see The Departed, and that might make me feel a little better. Much more constructive than cake.

visiting the vet

So yesterday we took Morgan and Kahlua to the vet. Morgan doesn't mind the trip so much; it's being cooped up in the carrier that pisses him off more than anything. Kahlua, on the other hand, wets himself every time he gets shoved into the carrier. Yesterday he even pooped while he was on the examining table. Poor kitty. We discovered Kahlua has an infected tooth--one of his front fangs--that has to be pulled. He has to have blood work before he can be cleared for anethesia, then there's the actual extraction and antibiotics. I'm about to make my vet's Christmas a little be merrier, I think. It's pretty infected, so I don't want to wait until January. He could get septic or something, and that would be bad news. Next Friday I'm taking Bailey and Moonshine for their visits, so perhaps I'll schedule Kahlua's extraction while I'm there. Maybe they could give me some kitty valium to give him for the trip.

undead

So it turns out I know why the bad guys are the bad guys in my book. All the Powerful people, see, are underground, see? And the Powerful Mafia types are even more underground than the normal Powerful people. But the Mafia types want to "come out," as it were, and show the world how great and Powerful they are, and are gonna use our hero to do that. Of course, once they're out, they're going to rule the world. Mind reading, telekinesis, and alchemy for hire? You bet they're gonna take over. And, of course, our hero's not going to let anyone mess with the Powerful people's way of life.

Which brings me to the question: wouldn't the government really like to have a Powerful person like that on staff? Hmmm. Maybe that would be a subject for a future book ...

I have to say that right now, I'm not in a festive frame of mind. I have to work the next five days (it's my holiday to work, rah-rah-health-care) and so Ken and I aren't really celebrating with a turkey dinner. I think we may hit the movies tomorrow night, and maybe find a chinese restaurant to eat at. But still, it's the season, so here's a quick list of what I'm thankful for:
Ken
kitties
warm house
good friends
all five senses

Now, I'm gonna go work on da book.

Gulp

It occurred to me that it was hypocritical of me to put other people's full names on my blog and not my own. So I have made the leap. Hopefully no weirdos come out of the proverbial woodwork.

On an unrelated note, yesterday I smashed my right forefinger in the walk-in refrigerator door at work. It hurt like a bitch, but today it is merely bruised and only slightly painful. Hopefully my nail won't fall out.

Today I ate three pieces of Chicago-style pizza. I think I may have gained five or so pounds. Tomorrow, I'm going to the gym for cardio and weight-lifting. I'm also going to write and get some laundry done. If I'm feeling perky enough, I might even vaccuum.

Another love note from F&SF

This one is better than the last one, maybe:
"Thank you for submitting "Mark of a Woman," but I'm going to pass on it. There's nice writing here, but this tale didn't grab my interest, I'm afraid. Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way."

Did ya see that? "There's nice writing here"? Oh, yeah. I'm da woman. Off to find another market, and then maybe write a bit on the book. I think I'm about to catch my second wind.

D-E-A-D

I think my book is officially dead.

Remember how I said I was doing an experiment with this book by writing it without an outline? Yeah, well, I've discovered that I need an outline. Not only that, I need details about everyone's past, as well as their motivations. So I've learned that I need to have plot outlines as well as character outlines.

How did I come to this conclusion? Just before WFC, I got to the point of my story where the bad guys kidnap the hero. This should be a really exciting point, right? I should not be able to wait to start writing the climactic dramatic scenes. But I find that I'm dreading writing it, because I don't know exactly who the villians are and why they're doing what they're doing. Oh, sure, I know they're part of an Underground-Mafia-type-outfit that's out for the protagonist because he's the only Powerful person of his generation that can use all four Powers, but other than that, I got nothin'. Actually, now that I read it, it's not so bad. Maybe I'm depressed about the book because I figure my word count, at best, is going to be 50K. I consider it a YA book, so that's a decent word count, but still. It seems kind of wimpy. I dunno. Maybe I just need to put it aside for awhile and come back to it once I've done a decent outline and character backgrounds.

One could look at this as a waste of six months. I choose to look at is as a lesson learned. Also, this means I'm free to start working on my short story goal.

Sometimes this whole writing business overwhelms me.

Slimy Sundays

Today has been a perfect Sunday:
1. I did a few loads of laundry, which was enough to make me feel productive.
2. I didn't shower. I tell myself this is so my skin and hair can replenish their natural oils, but really I'm just lazy. I love being lazy on Sunday.
3. I baked a batch of Rocky Balboa cookies. I'm entering the 21st Annual Chocolate-chip cookie contest at work on Friday, and this is one of many practice batches. I tried a Rocky Road cookie with mini-marshmellows and walnuts, but the marshmellows stuck to the cookie sheet and the spatula, so they sort of fell apart. The look horrible but they're yummy, so I named them the Rocky Balboa cookie. You know, "ugly champion" cookies. Yeah, I thought it was pretty clever, too.
4. I took a nap around 4 p.m. Naps on Sunday run a close second to not showering on Sunday.
5. I finished one book and started another.

And that just about wraps up my day.

rejection!

In all the hullabaloo I forgot to mention the gem that awaited me when I returned from Austin: a rejection from Realms of Fantasy for "Mark of a Woman." Bah. It's off to F&SF tomorrow. Oh, and Kelly Y: I'm sending your goodies tomorrow, as well. Be on the lookout.

new links

I've posted tons of new links (see left). They're for all my new writing buds I met at WFC. They've got cool sites; be sure to check them out. If you find yourself not included, and you consider yourself a cool WFC-writing-bud, let me know, and I'll throw a link up to your website or blog. We all rock.
Oh, and Holly: thanks for the shout-out and link on your blog. I can't wait to get to know you (and all the LJ crew) better.

Bloggin' from Austin

Okay, not really. Ken and I are back home. I would have blogged from Austin, but the fucking hotel the convention was at didn't have free internet! Anywhere! Dirty bastards. We paid for one day, but I didn't have time that particular day to post properly, so I'm doing it now.

My con experience was better this year than last year. For one thing, I knew a few people, so I was able to mingle a bit more, and that in turn introduced me to more people. I only felt like a talentless-hack-poser a few times. Once I reminded myself that I had read plenty of books from people there that I didn't particularly like and that there's room in the publishing biz for all our voices, I got over myself. I met lots of writers-on-the-edge-of-discovery, a few established writers, and a few agents. It was a great con. I'd like to attend two or three conventions next year. I might have to stick to the regional ones. WFC is in New York State next year, which would be cool, but ... we'll have to see.

Friday night was particularly fun. One of my writer friends, Paul Genesse, has a short story out in the anthology "Furry Fantastic." It's his first pro story, I believe, and he had a space in the autograph room on Friday night so he could sign copies for people. It just so happened that most of the people who were going to pick up copies dined together, and so after dinner, we went to the autograph room and caused a scene. Rachel (a girl I had pretty much met just before dinner) and I ran up to where Paul was sitting and starting yelling, "Oh, my God! Is that Paul? Paul Genesse? Oh my God! Can we have your autograph?" Rachel went one step further and said "Will you sign my chest?" Paul's friend Patrick said, "Dude, your story changed my life. I was going to kill myself until I read "The Mob." Paul's neighbors got a kick out of it, and he was suitably embarrassed, so it was all good. Somebody had better do that for me when I have a book signing. Get your Sharpies ready now.

One of the established writers I got to meet was Steven Brust. You know, the dude who writes the "Vlad Taltos" novels. I only spoke with him briefly, but he seemed like a nice fellow. I caught kind of an "aging hippie" vibe from him, which I didn't really expect. I've actually e-mailed him about writing a few times in the past three years. I was able to reference that so I didn't come across as a huge geeky fan girl. Now that I think about it, though, maybe I came across as a huge geeky fan girl stalker, which may or may not be worse.

My writing goal is to finish the first draft of the book by the end of the year so I can write short stories next year. I'd like to write one a week and submit everything I write. Gotta make a name and reputation for myself, you know.

shopping expedition

So, me and da girls take a big shopping trip--usually to Chicago or Indy--this time of year. This year, Bridget obviously was out of the picture (sniff, sniff) and Jodi's all "I'm trying to save money" blah-blah-blah, so it was just me and Julie. The big news of the day is ... that's right, I got my ears pierced. Re-pierced, actually, but yeah. Here's how it went down:

Julie: You look so hot in that shirt.

Me: Yeah, thanks. What do you think of this necklace?

Julie: Ooooh, that's awesome! We gotta find earrings to go with it.

Me: (pointing to my ears) Not pierced, remember?

Julie: What? Your ears are too pierced.

Me: Not anymore. I haven't worn earrings in so long they closed up.

Julie: That's it. We're going to Claire's. You're gettin' 'em done today.

Me: (shrugging) All right.

Julie: (surprised) Really?

Me: Sure. Let's do it.

It actually didn't hurt at all. I heard the crunch, but no pain. Huh. I remember when I got my upper ear pierced it hurt like hell, but the lower lobes ... not so much. The only downside is that I'm deferred from donating blood for a year. I could contract hepatitis, ya know.

I also got a bunch of shopping booty such as a purse, belt, necklace, tank top, a flowy asian-inspired top, and a wind-breaker. I'm a sexy bitch. It's okay, you can say it.

Road trip tunes

I read an article written by Sheryl Crow in an old copy of Vanity Fair magazine about road trip music and it inspired me to make my list. My requisite for RT musak is that I must at least tolerate every single song on the disk; no listening to the first three songs or skipping around, just put in the disk and listen straight through. Oh, and the songs can't make me drowsy, either.

Ten--Pearl Jam
Crossroads--Bon Jovi [call me a small-town midwestern hick, I don't care]
Yourself or Someone Like You--Matchbox 20
The Immaculate Collection--Madonna
Nevermind--Nirvana
Shake Your Moneymaker--Black Crowes
American Idiot--Green Day
Songs About Jane--Maroon 5

I'm sure there are others, but that's all I can think of now.

blech

It is cold, wet, windy, and miserable outside. Yesterday it was a beautiful, sunny, crisp 60 degrees. Today it's a rainy, miserable 56. This doesn't sound like much of a difference, but oh, it is. Yesterday, it was fall. Today, it is almost winter. The rain is going to knock all the gorgeous orange leaves out of the trees and leave naked branches behind. It's supposed to rain for the next three days, too. Bridget, eat your heart out.

I got a rejection from Analog today for "Last Man Standing." It's the first time I've gotten a two-page form rejection. It's basically their submission guidelines with nothing written on it, just "Thank you for the opportunity to examine your submission for publication in Analog. We regret that we cannot make use of it at this time" typewritten at the top. Strange. Anyhoo, back to the drawing board.

I got a freebie massage today. One of my co-workers is getting a massage therapy license, and she's giving free massages so she can get her required practice hours. Rock on! She said she only found one knot in my shoulder and one in my calf, so apparently I'm a very relaxed person. It's true, I guess, that I don't usually get headaches or backaches or shoulder aches or anything. Is it that I'm relaxed or apathetic? Relaxed, I think. Whatever, I don't care. (heehee, that's a joke, see.)

Just finished watching "How I Met Your Mother." I love that show. If you don't watch it, do. Neil Patrick Harris alone makes it worth your time, but the whole cast is great.

Haunted is haunting me

So the other day I told Ken how freaked out I was about "Guts." I didn't tell him much about the story, just that I was disturbed. So last night I go to bed early while Ken stayed up to study. He woke me up when he went to bed to show me the cover of "Haunted", which is a freaky ghost-y face, glows in the fucking dark. This book has got to go.

warning: horrific post

I started to read Haunted by Chuck Palahnuik last night. I say "start" because I'm not quite sure I'm woman enough to continue reading. It's basically a story about a group of people that are on an island, "Survivor" style, and the main story is interspersed with short stories and poems written by the characters. It sounded like a literary horror book of sorts, and something I could maybe get into. Last night I read the Afterward first--I tend to do this because I like getting a glimpse of the author's mind--and it intrigued me. It was a discourse on the story "Guts" and how when the author would read it out loud at readings, people would faint. Every night one or two people would hit the floor. Something like 76 people have gone stone-cold unconscious while hearing this story. So of course, I have to read this part first thing. "Guts" tells the story of three people who, when they were thirteen, had a bad experience with masturbation. The first shoved a carrot into his butt, hid it under a pile of dirty clothes when he got called to dinner, and then couldn't find later because his mom had picked up the clothes to do wash. The second shoved a sliver of wax into his penis, lost it inside, and had to be fixed with surgery. The third story happened to the narrator. He used to masturbate in the family's swimming pool. One time he decided to do it over the pool filter. Well, he gets suctioned to it, and when he tries to swim for the surface, he disembowels himself. In order not to drown, he has to bend down and chew through his own intestines.

I can't even describe how much this story disturbed me. I like the horror genre as much as the next person but this story assaulted my sensibilities. It's not that I'm a prude about jacking off or that the disembowelment disgusted me. I can't pinpoint why I'm so freaked out by it. In the afterward, the author relates reading a book to an act of trust; he says investing yourself in a book is as consensual as sex. I agree with that ... and I feel a little violated. I mean, the writing was great, it's not that it was a bad story. I just wasn't expecting someone to explore something so normal--experimenting with sex--in such a visceral and horrible way.

Maybe I'm just jealous.

It's good to be me.

The book is booking, I've lost 2 pounds, and tonight I mowed the yard. Life is good.

I've discovered a new pet peeve of mine. I hate it when someone narrates a movie you're both watching. As in, "Oh, look, wife's going to work. He's not though. Unemployed." It implies I am not smart enough to figure this out on my own. I hate having my intellegence insulted more than anything. I also hate when someone feels the need to talk about nothing just to fill the silence. Can't we all just sit quietly and be together? Is that too much to ask?

The above tirade has nothing at all to do with my mother and her husband's visit this past weekend. Not one bit.

This weekend I'd like to write the "Love and Sacrifice" open-anthology short story. Usually it takes me a week or two to write a short, because I like to mull things over in my head and live with one idea before moving on the the next. This time, though, I think it's going to be pretty emotional and that's not a place I want to dwell for a long period of time. So I'm going to try a marathon writing session on Saturday or Sunday and write a first draft, start to finish. Fingers crossed.

help

Yet another weekend that I won't get much writing done. My mother and her husband are coming in town, which means I'll have to clean, cook, and entertain them. Yech. Ken's going to do homework all day on Sunday, so hopefully I can get a massive amount of work done then. I'm starting to panic a bit. I have a month to finish my book and write a short story to submit to an open-call anthology. Aaaarrggghh.

Just finished reading So Yesterday by Scott Westerfeld. He's a big YA author; his work leans towards the fantastical. After reading So Yesterday, I felt better about my writing. When I finished, I thought, "Huh, my stuff is almost as good as that. Maybe even just as good as that."
Rock.

Method acting

A very secret dream of mine (okay, not so secret, now) is to be an actor or a director. It's something I'll never pursue unless I audition for a part in a local play or something. Every time I think about it though, like when I watch a kick-ass movie or a cool scene in a T.V. show, I think of how similar writing is to acting and directing. We're all storytellers working with different mediums. Writers work with words, actors with their bodies and props, directors with actors, locations, and sets. It's a point I've brought up in past posts, I know, but the more I think about it the more similar I think the professions are. Perhaps this explains why my two favorite hobbies are reading and watching T.V./movies, and my favorite magazine is Entertainment Weekly, which combines the two. The argument could be made that everyone watches movies/T.V. ... but not everyone reads.

post 101

I've officially posted over 100 times! Isn't that exciting?

In less exciting news, Strange Horizons just rejected "Last Man Standing." Bah. I also found out that a local weekly I had submitted a few shorts to is folding, so I guess those stories are up for grabs again. It's all good, though. Tomorrow I'll search for another market for "Last Man Standing" and send it out on Monday. Somebody'll pick this thing up. Also on Monday, I'm sending out a short story I wrote this past July entitled "Mark of a Woman." Fingers crossed.

Then I'll have two stories and my first book under consideration, and I'll be working on my fourth book ... it all sounds way more impressive than it feels. It feels like I'm a poser looking to catch an editor unaware. I look like a writer trying to break into the profession. Fake it 'till you make it, you know.

favorite childhood toy

A few days ago Wil Wheaton posted a question on his blog: if you had to pick one toy that defined your childhood, what would it be? As I thought about it I rejected most of the toys that popped into my head--Rainbow Bright, Strawberry Shortcake and her crew, Barbie, Cabbage Patch Dolls, Rubik's cube, Atari--and settled on something that couldn't be bought in a store. The house I spent my early childhood years in had a patch of dirt just beneath the living room windows. We called it "the dirt pile", and I spent countless hours there making mud pies, "cleaning" the area with a broom, playing house, and chasing bugs. Once I painted the front porch with mud made from the dirt pile; mom wasn't pleased with my decorating. Six or seven of my formative years were spent playing in the dirt.

Thinking of my dirt pile made me think of leaf houses. Remember those? Me and my friends made them this time of year. Once the leaves start falling from the trees, you rake them into an outline of a house. Basically it's a floor plan out in the yard. Then you play house in it. Usually a mom would donate a blanket to use as a bed, and another mom would bring us brownies or chips to eat in the kitchen. How old were we then ... between fifth and eighth grades, probably. I remember making them for a few years then stopping ... and I don't think I made one at the house with the dirt pile ... so that's probably about right.

Funny, isn't it? When we're kids we pretend we're adults; as adults we pretend we're kids.

progress

I've been making good progress with the book. After spending the last few evenings smoothing some rough edges in the manuscript, I'm ready to move on with the action. I'd like to get it into some hands of a few readers before WFC, so I have to get crackin'. I'm hoping to write 20 pages over the weekend, which should be a pretty slick trick since I work. It's going to be a miserable, rainy weekend, so I'll have no excuses.

Reading my own writing is like riding a roller coaster. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it, some lines I love one day but hate the next, some days I think I should scrap it all and forget it but most days I think I'll die if I quit writing.

A while ago--it's been about six months or so--I wondered how I'd feel if I made the decision to stop writing. Even just thinking that thoughts made me feel a bit panicky and empty inside. I figured that was enough of an answer for me.

News flash

Just found out today that "Pandora's Closet" is slated for an August 2007 release. Mark your calanders now.

I've been getting e-mail lately telling me about open anthologies, markets for my book, etc. I tell ya, sometimes the belief that others have in me carries me to the next page, the next chapter, the next project. Validation is a wonderful thing in this business. I still wonder, though: have I done enough to earn their faith in me? Am I doing enough? Am I talented enough to even warrant it?

Great. Writer angst. Pass the cake.

This one goes out to Tasha

Yo, saw your comment. Waaaasssup? Throw me an e-mail or somethin', let me know how things are goin'.

This is your cat on drugs.

So Morgan's been doing this thing for the past couple of months. Actually, let me back up; the story starts back when I was still on evenings. During Ken's morning shower, Morgan would stand outside the shower and meeeoooowww loud enough to keep me awake. This drove me to drastic measures. One day I tossed the covers aside, said, "Okay, you fuckin' cat, I'll give you something to meow about" and tossed him into the shower with Ken. He hopped out and licked the water off. More importantly, he didn't meow.

I created a monster.

Now, when Ken and I shower, he gets in with us. With me, Morgan will prance in and out of water, but with Ken, he'll stay under the spray long enough to get really wet.

sigh

Tripping over the idea that Bridget just doesn't live here anymore is like waking up and finding cat puke. You sigh, grab a towel or a handful of Kleenex, pick it up, and go on with your day feeling a little bummed. Example: the other day I thought, "You know, this pile of magazines is really getting unmanagable. I should box 'em up and take them to the recycling bin at Bridget's apartment." sigh. "Old apartment." Or this: "God, these crab rangoon from The Wok rock. We'll order them next time Bridget and Jimmy come over." sigh. "Or not."

This sucks.

word

Finally received word from Bridget today. She took my advice--yay!--and made a blog so they can record their adventures. Check it out--the link's on your left.
She cracks me up. I can just picture how pissed off she got during the whole truck fiasco. Heeheehehe.

blech

Feeling kind of blah today. I did yoga, and so that was good, but I really feel like a need a nap or three. I wonder if I have mono. Nah, too old for mono. More likely I haven't been exercising enough and/or eating well enough. Though, one of the unspoken-fringe-benefits to being a medical technologist lab work on the sly. Maybe a CBC wouldn't be out of order.

Our wedding anniversary is September 19th. The traditional gift for the eighth year is bronze, and I'm completely clueless as to what to get him. Most likely something for the house. We've been together long enough that a household gadget is a legitimate gift but not so long we've given up giving gifts altogether. Ken is a great-gift giver, but I sort of suck. It's my inherent stinginess that dooms me. To my credit, though, Ken is pretty good at agreeing to a price cap--say, $75--then shattering it to pieces, so whatever gift I buy looks cheap in comparison.

Writing is going well. Who knew that writing under pressure could be so productive? Maybe after WFC I'll try to do another book, start to finish, by New Year's. Maybe throw a short story in there to kick up the stress a notch. We'll see how it goes.

back on the horse, part duex

So, Kelly Y sent me a cool website that's basically a search engine for writing markets. Kelly Y rocks. Anyhoo, I sent my "Killer Survivor" story to Strange Horizons. Fingers crossed. I'm not going to send it out anywhere else yet, and that's basically my ego talking. In reality, the assumption is no one is going to want your brilliant story so you send it out to ten places at once hoping for a hit. I, however, really like this story, dammit, so I'm convinced someone's gonna want it, and I don't want to have to tell nine other editors, "sorry for sending you my stuff, don't even read it, because even if you like it you can't have it, phooey on you."

I didn't go to the gym today. Bah. I'm just exhausted for some reason. However, I'm not too exhausted to go spend some time in Max and Zoey's world (Max and Zoey are two of the main characters in the book I'm working on). Zoey is about to ask Max out to a party. She is nervous for obvious reasons--she's only 15, after all--but this is also good because unbeknownst to them, they're both Powerful but have to hide that fact from each other. Who knows what could happen when they get liquored up in someone's field.

Batting a thousand ...

I've gotten two rejections this week. One was from a submission I sent last November to a children's magazine. The second was from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction for my "Last Man Standing" story. The first was a form rejection; the second definitely wasn't. While that in and of itself says good things (editors don't usually take the time to write a personal rejection note) the note itself was pretty brutal. At first I didn't think it was so bad, but the more I let myself brew on it the worse it gets. Decide for yourself:

Thank you for submitting "Last Man Standing," but I'm going to pass on it. There are some amusing moments here, but overall this tale didn't hold my interest, I'm afraid; I did like the idea of using a Survivor-type show for satirical purposes, but in this case, I felt the show was too-thinly veiled. Good luck to you with this one, and thanks again for sending it our way.

Good and bad. Back to the market listings. On another note, the book is going okay, I guess. My next one will definitely be outlined. This whole "I have a vague idea where I'm going" business is for the birds. It was a good experiment--I mean, now I know how I work best--but I'm also too stubborn to let the story die. It's a good story, I think, it's just going to need a lot of polishing and fleshing-out when it's "done."

Tonight Ken and I went to a new friend's house for a barbecue. I think we'll really like hanging out with this couple, and I hope they feel the same way about us. Couple-dating is tough, because you've got four people that have to mesh. But this couple's sensibilities are pretty much on par with ours. They're as big of geeks as we are, I think, and that's pretty tough to find.