Di Dishes

Guest Blogger: Author Susan Gable

2006-10-31T12:20:00.000-08:00

The recent antics of politicians from both sides of the aisle in regards to using their opponents’ novels (FICTION!) as a way to smear them, or point accusatory fingers at a huge “moral flaw” in them, has prompted me to write this. For those who’ve missed the fun-and-games as we hit the home-stretch to the latest election, check out the links at the bottom of the page.

An Open Letter to Politicians of All Parties:

It has recently come to my attention that you all are having difficulty with the concept of fiction, so I thought I’d help you out.

Fiction is not real. Fake. You know, like some of that stuff you make up about your opponent. Like the figures you give the public when you want them to believe a certain way about a new program you’ve proposed. Fiction is also related to story-telling, a skill which I know all of you have.

Let’s say it together: Fiction is not real.

When someone pens a piece of fiction, the characters do not necessarily reflect the values and opinions of the writer. I know that’s hard to wrap your little brains around. But it’s true. Often when a writer is working, the characters do and say things that the writer never would. That’s why we call it FICTION, and once again, fiction is not real. I’m getting tired of you slinging mud at your opponents who’ve written fiction by pointing to some act (generally sexual in nature) committed by one of the characters, and labeling it as a real moral flaw in the writer.

It’s interesting that none of you have pointed to a serial killer/thriller’s author as having a warped and twisted mind.

We (fiction writers) are NOT our characters. Often our characters are not even based on a particular person. They’re made-up. Created. Fake. They have their own opinions and values, their own sets of behaviors. The things they do are also made up. (FICTION!) This is why, although Tom Clancy wrote a book about crashing a plane into Congress, he didn’t act on it. I’m sure he didn’t endorse the concept as a real behavior.

We don’t arrest people based on a story they wrote. (Yet. You all do have me worried, though. The exception to this is if you happen to be a high school writer. Kids have, unfortunately, been arrested based on nothing more than a story they wrote. This is why we really do need to enlighten you all about FICTION. )

What happens on the fiction page should stay on the page.

To recap, because I know you’re really struggling with these concepts:

Fiction is not real.

Characters in fiction do and say things that their writers never would.

We fiction writers may lie for a living, but at least we admit it. Hey, better yet, we know the difference between fake (fiction!) and real.

If you’d like to read some fiction, might I suggest you begin with 1984 and Fahrenheit 451? Oh, wait. Those books might confuse you even more.

Susan Gable, Novelist, Reader, and Fed-Up Voter
http://www.susangable.com

A PS from Diana - Please, political candidates, avoid the movie "Stranger Than Fiction," as you are bound to find it bewildering and terrifying.

Related Links:
Fred Head vs. Susan Combs (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20061024/ap_on_el_st_lo/candidate_s_romance_novel ), George Allen vs. Jim Webb (http://www.cnsnews.com/news/viewstory.asp?Page=/Politics/archive/200610/POL20061027f.html ), and now the hoopla being made (again) over Lynne Cheney’s book. (http://www.cnn.com/2006/POLITICS/10/29/cheney.lynne.novel/index.html )

A "Getting To Know You" Survey

2006-10-31T10:04:00.000-08:00

This was sent to me by a friend, so I figured I'd just share. ;)

1. What is your occupation? Writer/Wife/Mom/You Name It

2. What color are your socks right now? One is brown, one is gray. I have another pair just like them around here somewhere.

3. What are you listening to right now? Snow Patrol! Love them!

4. What was the last thing that you ate? A macadamia/white chocolate chip cookie with a chocolate fudge/chocolate chunk cookie chaser. And a Mountain Dew. The breakfast of champions.

5. Can you drive a stick shift? I can barely walk and chew gum at the same time.

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Lipstick Red.

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My Mom.

8. How old are you today? You're as old as you feel, right? Um...112.

9. Favorite drink? Bailey's Irish Creme. Starbucks peppermint mocha. Anything with massive quantities of caffeine.

10. What is your favorite sport to watch? Home decorating on HGTV. Oh yes it is!

11. Pets? Cyrus, my adorable dog who is cuter and smarter than any other dog in the world - and who coincidentally happens to be my favorite member of the family. My two naughty kitties, Goblin...the drooler surfer kitty - "Whoa, dudes, I just saw a mouse." And Ivy, the 22 lb wonder...you wonder how she can walk.

12. Favorite food? Mmmm.... chocolate.

13. What do you do to vent anger? Lock myself in my room and cuss like a sailor on shore leave.

14. What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbie and her unlimited wardrobe. And since we weren't allowed to have Ken dolls (don't ask) Barbie had to date the neighbor boy's G.I. Joe.

15. What is your favorite Fall or Spring? Fall. I love the gorgeous colors and crisp snap in the air. And Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday!

16. Hugs or kisses? Well, that all depends on who is doing the hugging and/or kissing.

17. Cherry or Blueberry? What are those? Pass the chocolate.

18. When was the last time you cried? Yesterday when I was writing my current manuscript. (In the oh, this is so good way - not in the ohmigod, it sucks ditchwater way.)

19. What's on the floor of your closet? There's a floor in my closet?

20. What did you do last night? Tried to make progress on this killer deadline hanging over my head while I taste-tested the Halloween candy for quality purposes.

21. Favorite smell? Clean laundry. (And chocolate)

22. What inspires you? A cloudy rainy day outside with rolling thunder and rain drumming on the roof and a warm crackling fire inside, a cup of tea or coffee and my favorite music. Oh, and my 9,999,999 pictures of Adrian Paul.

23. What are you afraid of? Betrayal.

24. Favorite car? '57 Corvette Convertible - red with white panels. But if it's a stick, I will need to borrow a driver.

25. Favorite day(s) of the week? Monday, because everyone goes back to school and work and I get a quiet house to write in. Don't tell anybody I said that.

26. What you say most often? "Oops. Oh, well."

Five Questions

2006-10-11T15:27:00.000-07:00

1. If I were rich:

I would have freshly laundered sheets put on my bed every night. Hire a cook. And I would fund a safe haven shelter for women & children.

2. If I could have a conversation with anyone:

I'd love to chat with Boudica, the Celtic warrior queen. Although I have a feeling she'd probably kick my wimpy arse.

3. Something I regret:

That my Nana didn't live to see me published. She was a librarian and would have been so thrilled to see my name on a book. I like to believe that she knows anyway.

4. Something that most surprises me about myself:

How much I love my dog. I was never a dog person before, but now my puppy is my favorite member of the family. *G*

5. If I could go back and do one thing differently:

I'd learn the peace of forgiving both others and myself waaay sooner.

Tell me your answers!

Grey's Anatomy - Derek or Finn?

2006-10-06T12:17:00.000-07:00

Let's just get this out of the way right off the bat. I confess, I'm a GA Addict. I mean, there are much worse things I could be hooked on, right?

Who saw last night's episode?

Regarding the Derek/Finn sammich: Oh, yeah, baby! I'll have what Meredith is having!

But seriously, does anyone besides me find it totally ironic -- and a bit unbelievable -- that a scrawny, whiny, neurotic woman like Meredith has not one, but two, hunky guys fighting tooth and nail over her?

All right, she gives it up pretty easily. I'm sure the hunks consider that a plus. *G* I'm not sure what else about her appeals to them. Most guys -- and especially men employed in successful, stressful careers -- don't really crave highly strung, high-maintenance chicks. And our Mer is up there at the top of the maintenance list.

In real life, I have a feeling the men would be elbowing each other out of the way to beg for Izzie's attention.

Be that as it may, Meredith has a choice to make. Looking at the contracted appearances by series guests and regulars, we already know who she's gonna pick. But let's pretend we don't. Better yet, let's say we were in her position.

Who would you choose? Derek or Finn?

Derek comes with the moniker "McDreamy." Personally, I think McWishy-Washy fits him better. Granted, he arrived in Seattle hurting from the betrayal of his wife with his best friend. Under the circumstances, a one night stand with a woman he picked up in a bar isn't unusual or unreasonable. But then all of a sudden, he's declaring his love. Once he has Meredith firmly in his thrall, his ex arrives, and he breaks Mer's heart by announcing he wants to try to make his marriage work -- all the while flirting with her and casting mooning, puppy dog eyes in her direction every chance he gets.

Sheesh. And they claim women send mixed messages!

When poor Meredith begins to recover from her heartbreak and dates again, Derek calls her a slut. Um...hello...after treating me that way, he'd be carrying his balls home in a jar. If I had a scalpel in my hand, McDreamy would be singing McSoprano.

Finally, Mer meets Finn, a cutie-patootie vet with a tender heart, who treats her with care and affection...like a real man should. She starts to fall for him, and then, what do you know, Derek decides he wants her back! At this point, I'd be telling him to go suck laughing gas, but whatever. She's enthralled all over again, and Derek cheats on his wife with Meredith at the "prom."

IMHO, this is a prime example of a supposedly smart woman making a stoopid choice. She's going after the man who seems the most "exciting," but who -- in looking at his track record -- is not a likely candidate to stick with her for the long haul. He's manipulative and selfish. He's never made one single personal sacrifice to prove that he honestly cares about Meredith. He goes after what he wants, regardless of the cost to her, and to others in his life. He doesn't think about her feelings. He is always going to put himself and his own needs first.

Again, maybe it's just me, but the guy having a really great head of McHair doesn't seem like the stuff from which lasting relationships are made.

Please, Mer, I'm begging you...choose the sweet, kind, considerate vet.

Because the selfish surgeon is just a heart-breaking McHorndog.

Meet That Deadline, Or Else!

2006-08-11T22:20:00.000-07:00

2006-08-08T18:29:00.000-07:00

2006-08-08T18:22:00.000-07:00

Guest Columnists - Cyrus, Ivy & Goblin

2006-07-17T17:37:00.000-07:00

Our mom is busy writing three new books, so we're filling in for her. Today's entry is by us... Cyrus the spoiled dog and Ivy & Goblin, the adored cats. See our pictures on Mom's "About Me" page.

Cyrus's Journal

7 am - Oh boy! A walk! My favorite!
8 am - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 am - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
Noon - Oh boy! The yard! My favorite!
2 pm - Oh boy! A car ride! My favorite!
3 pm - Oh boy! The kids! My favorite!
4 pm - Oh boy! Playing ball! My favorite!
6 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Mom! My favorite!
7 pm - Oh boy! Welcome home Dad! My favorite!
8 pm - Oh boy! Dog food! My favorite!
9 pm - Oh boy! Tummy rubs on the couch! My favorite!
11 pm - Oh boy! Sleeping in my people's bed! My favorite!

Ivy & Goblin's Journal:

Day 183 of our captivity.

Our captors continued to taunt us with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while we are forced to eat nasty dry cereal. The only thing that keeps us going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction we obtain from clawing the furniture. Tomorrow we may eat another house plant.

Today our attempts to kill our captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded. Maybe we should try this at the top of the stairs.

In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, we once again induced ourselves to vomit on their favorite chair. We must try this on their bed.

Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what we am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little kitty cats we are. This is not working according to plan.

There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. We were placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, we could hear the noise and smell the food. More important, we overheard that our confinement was due to our powers of inducing something called "allergies." Must learn what this is and how to use it to our advantage.

We are convinced the other captives are flunkies and maybe snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit.

The bird, on the other hand, has to be an informant. He speaks with them regularly, and we are certain he reports our every move. Due to his current placement in the metal room, his safety is assured. But we can wait.

It's only a matter of time.

Rejections -- "My Way"

2006-01-29T11:47:00.000-08:00

With apologies to Sinatra.... I'm feelin' a bit inspired by questions from newbie authors about rejections today.

So, sing along with me:

Rejections, I’ve had a ton;
But then again, too many to mention (28!!)
I wrote the stories I needed to
And mailed them in with nervous tension

I lovingly penned each manuscript;
Sent each heartfelt story along the contest highway,
And in spite of clueless, inane comments,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I knew
When those rejections totally blew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I consumed chocolate and Guinness stout.
I weathered it all and finally got the call;
And did it my way.

I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill of rejections and contest losses – a lot!
And now, my muse laughs in their faces,
And sometimes…not!

To think I persisted for years;
And may I say – five only seemed like fifty.
When I was told my hero was too bold,
I did it my way.

For what is a writer, what has she got?
If not her heart, then she has naught.
To tell the story she truly feels;
And not pander to mass appeal.
The sales record shows I disproved the ‘no’s’ -
And did it my way.

Guest Columnist: Advice For Husbands

2005-10-16T16:47:00.000-07:00

This is long, but VERY HELPFUL information!

It is important for men to remember that, as women grow older, it becomes harder for them to maintain the same quality of housekeeping as when they were younger. When you notice this, try not to yell at them. Some are oversensitive, and there's nothing worse than an oversensitive woman.

My name is Ron......Let me relate how I handled the situation with my wife, Julie. When I took "early retirement" last year, it became necessary for Julie to get a full-time job, both for extra income and for the health benefits that we needed.

Shortly after she started working, I noticed she was beginning to show her age. I usually get home from the golf course about the same time she gets home from work. Although she knows how hungry I am, she almost always says she has to rest for half an hour or so before she starts dinner. I don't yell at her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me when she gets dinner on the table. I generally have lunch in the Men's Grill at the club so eating out is not reasonable. I'm ready for some home cooked grub when I hit that door.

She used to do the dishes as soon as we finished eating. But now it's not unusual for them to sit on the table for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won't clean themselves. I know she really appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she goes to bed.

Another symptom of aging is complaining, I think. For example she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to pay the monthly bills during her lunch hour. But, boys, we take 'em for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three days. That way she won't have to rush so much. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn't hurt her any (if you know what I mean).
I like to think tact is one of my strong points.

When doing simple jobs, she seems to think she needs more rest periods. She had to take a break when she was only half finished weeding the garden. I try not to make a scene. I'm a fair man. I tell her to fix herself a nice, big, cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade and just sit for a while. And, as long as she is making one for herself, she may as well make one for me too.

I know that I probably look like a saint in the way I support Julie. I'm not saying that showing this much consideration is easy.Many men will find it difficult. Some will find it impossible! Nobody knows better than I do how frustrating women get as they get older. However, guys, even if you just use a little more tact and less criticism of your aging wife because of this article, I will consider that writing it was well worthwhile. After all, we are put on this earth to help each other...

Signed, Ron

EDITOR'S NOTE: Ron died suddenly Thursday, October 13th. He was found with a Calloway extra long 50-inch Big Bertha Driver II rammed up his butt, with only 2 inches of grip showing. His wife Julie was arrested, but the all-woman Grand Jury accepted her defense that he accidentally sat down on it very suddenly.

When Disaster Strikes

2005-09-02T12:33:00.000-07:00

I've watched the news coverage pouring out of the devastated Gulf region with much sadness and many tears over the past several days. Like most of you probably have, I've felt angry, upset, and entirely helpless by turns, and wondered "what can I do?"

Many organizations are collecting donations of food, clothing and other items and money for relief. I know that the overwhelming generosity of our fellow Americans will come through for one another.

While we're looking for ways to render aid, let's not forget our four-legged friends. I know that efforts to help and rescue the people affected by this awful tragedy must come first. However, I've heard such heart-breaking stories coming out of the area. For instance, this report from the AP Newswire:

***More people were being evacuated from the Superdome on Friday, but pets were forbidden on the buses. On Thursday, when an officer confiscated a dog, a little boy cried out "Snowball! Snowball!" until he vomited.

National Guard officers said dogs were being taken to a stairwell in the New Orleans Center, a shopping mall near the Superdome, and given food and water. They feared some of them might have escaped, and two small dogs were seen wandering nearby streets.***

There are several organizations actively working to rescue stranded pets, and they are accepting donations.

The Humane Society of the United States:https://secure.hsus.org/01/disaster_relief_fund_2005?

Noah's Wish (which also offers tips on protecting your own pets fromdisasters): http://noahswish.com/

United Animal Nations: http://www.ears.org/ears/action_report.html

The chaos and upheaval of this tragedy has also strongly brought home to me the fact that our family is woefully unprepared to take care of ourselves for a week or more if cut off from rescue and supplies.

How about yours?

We are immediately preparing an emergency kit, to be stored in large plastic sealed bins in our coat closet for easy access near the front door.

In the event of an immediate evacuation order, or an emergency that would require you to hole up in your home and survive, the following supplies are suggested. (this list was compiled by my oldest daughter, who took a wilderness survival course at college last winter):

1 gallon of water per person/per day + water for pets

Food: canned, dehydrated, ramen, granola or health bars, jerky, cereal, oatmeal, trail mix, hard candy, powdered milk & juices, peanut butter, crackers, nuts, sugar, salt, pepper, mixes such as rice-a-roni, bisquick, etc.

Baby food and special diet food, diapers, wipes, etc., toys and games for children

Pet Food & Pet Carriers

Vitamins

A way to heat food/water, such as a propane stove

First Aid Kit: bandaids, gauze, bandage tape, ace bandages, triangular bandages, scissors, tweezers, hand sanitizer, antiseptic wipes, Neosporin, safety pins, rubber or surgical gloves, sunscreen, aloe vera, aspirin/ibuprofen, tums, Immodium, Kaopectate -- can safely be be given to cats and dogs --, a first aid book

Prescription medications

Survival "how to" book

Batteries

Radio (battery operated)

Flashlight

Can opener, heavy duty aluminum foil, knives, silverware, frying pan, pots, dishes, (camping accessories)

Matches/Lighters/candles/camping lanterns

Compass/Map of area

Signal whistles for communicating with each other if separated

Paper/notebook/pens/markers

thread/needles (also should be in first aid kit)

changes of clothing: underwear, socks, cold weather clothing, rain gear, hats, gloves, sturdy shoes or boots, work gloves,

space blankets/tarp/sleeping bags/tent

toilet paper, soap, razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, sanitary supplies such as pads and tampons, shampoo, deodorant, hairbrushes, chapstick

shovel, ax, broom, screwdriver, pliers and hammer, crescent wrench for turning off gas, rope that's 1/2" in diameter

Plastic tape and sheeting

garbage bags and covered garbage containers for waste and portable toilet construction if necessary

cash (many places will not or cannot accept credit or debit cards during an emergency situation)

water purification tablets

bleach

Swiss Army Knife

Glasses, contact lenses and solutions

ABC type fire extinguisher

newspaper to wrap trash and waste

Garden hose for fire fighting and siphoning

I'd suggest collecting the most urgent items first, then adding to the kit over time.

I hope that none of us ever need them, but in the event we do, we'll be prepared.

Please join me in sending our prayers, hopes and wishes for strength and recovery to all the victims of Katrina and their families.

Blessings,

Diana Duncan
http://www.dianaduncan.com

Working from Home

2005-07-19T18:27:00.000-07:00

Over the past several months while slogging toward a new book deadline, I've come to the conclusion that women who work from home -- especially writers -- require an extraordinary amount of strength and self-discipline.

Well, duh! :)

Every day brings new distractions that try their damnedest to yank me away from my manuscript and drive a stake through the heart of my goals.

Two words inspire fear and loathing in the hardiest of mothers: Summer Vacation. My best friend is a teacher. Our reactions to summer vacation are polar opposites. Every year as June rolls around she gleefully waves goodbye to her students and looks forward to three months off. I, on the other hand, stock up on Tylenol, Tums and those little individual bottles of wine.

Many little bottles of wine.

Along with the dh, I have three teenagers, two cats and a puppy who actually live here. Add assorted best friends, boyfriends and neighborhood kids, and the number triples. The amount of food and beverages consumed at our house in a single day would feed a retirement community of seniors for a week! (And costs as much!) The dirty laundry would fill one whole room... oh wait... it DOES. The line for a shower stretches down the hallway. The phone never stops ringing. The front door never stops slamming. The TV, CD player, Gameboy and X-Box are always on ... at maximum volume. The toilet paper roll is always down to one sheet, always when it's always my turn in the bathroom. Someone always needs money. A ride somewhere. A ride home. Advice. An opinion. Permission. Someone always has an appointment. Someone is always in tears. Someone is always in crisis. Someone is always laughing at the top of their lungs.

In other words, I'd have more peace and privacy in the middle of the chimpanzee compound at the city zoo!

Then there's the various and sundry duties that fall to every woman attempting to manage a household. The aforementioned laundry-that-never-stops. Mountains of dishes. Cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, kid chauffeuring, taking the animals to the vet/groomers, yard work, paying bills, and wrestling the checkbook into submission.

It's too easy -- and too horrible -- to look up from my computer and see so many chores left undone. The urge to jump up and "just do one fast load of laundry" is overwhelming.

Does my husband have these issues at work? NOT! That particular torture is limited to women. I can safely assure you that no man has ever been yanked away from his day job by excess guilt over a pile of dirty socks! My "to do" list is endless. I never catch up. The guilt is so all-consuming it takes every single ounce of fortitude I possess to stay in my chair and focus on my book.

Why do women do this to ourselves? More importantly, why don't our families realize that two full time jobs are just one too many? Even when I explain, when I ask for help, they don't "get it." According to them, all I do is "sit in front of a computer and type." How can that possibly be considered "work?" How can that drain me?

Some days, I want to totally give up the never-ending fight and wave the white flag. Okay, I'll bag the writing and become everyone's ideal housewife and mother. Martha Stewart on amphetamines. Come, one and all, and eat off my shiny, surgically sterile kitchen floor.

But I don't.

Why?

Because writing is my dream. It's what I do for me. My home, as much as I treasure it, is not my entire life. My children, as much as I love them, are not my entire life. Losing myself in others' expectations and demands is not healthy...for me or them. One of these days, (Please, Lord!) the teenagers will leave home and learn to live independent lives. If I devote my entire existence to them, what will I do when they go? Watch HGTV all day long? I can't think of anything more sad, empty and boring. And less fulfilling. Except maybe housework. Sorry, but floors you can eat off of just don't do it for me. ;)

Writing fills me back up after the strain and drain of everyday life. It gives me joy. Peace. Happiness. And yes, sometimes, it's frustrating and hard and awful and makes me crazy. But that's all part of the process.

So, guilt be damned. I'm not surrendering. Even when it's a struggle to eke out enough hours in the day and dredge up enough energy in my body. Even when the house is a complete disaster, we eat out of a can four times a week, and yeah, the light bill is a couple days late. Because, realistically? In spite of the commercials about women who can "bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan," nobody can "do it all."

And only women are brave enough to try.

Hopefully, someday, the kids will understand. Eventually, they might even be proud of old mom, who "just sits in front of a computer and types."

Best case scenario, they will remember my example, chose a vocation they love, and pursue it. They will be true to themselves and who they are. They will pursue their dreams...without guilt.

Let's toast to that with a glass of wine. Or six.

SWAT Acronyms

2005-06-05T10:16:00.000-07:00

Truth or Consequences, my June release from Intimate Moments is on store shelves now! A reader who had a lot of fun with Zoe's SWAT acronyms suggested I post them for everyone to enjoy.

I also invite you to think up some of your own! This could be way fun! :)

Here are the ones Zoe uses during the story:

Sure, we are tempting

Slathered with awesome testosterone

Sexy, wicked and taciturn

Seduction with attentive thoroughness

Sneaky, weasely, amoral traitor (when she was mad at him *G*)

Seriously without any tact

Slow, wanton and talented

Okay, so what others can you come up with?

Kingdom of Heaven

2005-05-15T17:05:00.000-07:00

Well, we haven't had a commercial in...forever... so...

I just got back from Orlando Bloom's newest movie: KINGDOM OF HEAVEN.

If you have the chance... DON'T MISS IT!!

It's one of the best movies I've seen in years! They did an excellent job balancing the conflict - - there were bad guys and good guys, right and wrong on both sides. And I loved the characterizations! It was gut-wrenching and emotionally engaging and really caused me to think for a long time afterward. What attributes make up a "good person?" What is honor? What is valuable and worth fighting for -- worth going to war over? What is worth dying for? How can one person make the world a better place?

Boo and HISS and a boot up the backside to the critics who complained about Orli's lack of "acting chops." He turned in a beautifully understated, yet emotional performance. They wanted Russell Crowe? BLECH!!! Those critics wouldn't recognize a good actor if he was dancing on their foreheads!

Go to this movie while it's in theaters. Don't wait for the DVD. Watching the epic battles unfold on the big screen makes such an impact.

A word of warning: it is a wee bit bloody, because of all the battles. I had to look away a couple times, but I'm a weenie. Also, they played fast and loose with history, but almost every epic movie does, including BRAVEHEART (another favorite!)

PS: Orli is GORGEOUS...albeit a bit grubby thu the film. Bulked up some and looking very manly. I don't know why the critics said he was too "pretty" in this role. He was plenty scruffy! Volunteers are needed to give him a bath! (Hand waving wildly)! Me, me!! Totally altruistic motives here, you understand. ;)

New Survivor Series

2005-04-01T10:55:00.000-08:00

THE NEXT SURVIVOR SERIES:

Six married men will be dropped on an island with one car and 4 kids each for six weeks.

Each kid will play two sports and either take music or dance classes. There is no fast food.

Each man must take care of his 4 kids; keep his assigned house clean, correct all homework, complete science projects, cook, do laundry, and pay a list of "pretend" bills with not enough money. In addition...each man will have to budget in money for groceries each week.

Each man must also take every child to a doctor's appointment, a dentist appointment, and a haircut. He must also make cookies or cupcakes for a social function.

Each man will be responsible for decorating his own assigned house, planting flowers outside and keep it presentable at all times.

The men will only have access to television when the kids are asleep and all chores are done. There is only one TV between them. Each father will be required to know all of the words to every stupid song that comes on TV and the name of each and every repulsive cartoon character.

The men must shave their legs, wear makeup daily, which they will apply themselves either while driving or making four lunches. They must adorn themselves with jewelry, wear uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, keep their nails polished and eyebrows groomed.

During one of the six weeks, they will have to endure severe stomach cramps, back aches, and have extreme, unexplained mood swings, but never once complain or slow down from other duties.

They must attend weekly PTA meetings, church, and find time at least once to spend the afternoon at the park or a similar setting.

He will need to pray with the children each night, bathe them, dress them, brush their teeth and comb their hair each morning by 7:00.

A test will be given at the end of the six weeks, and each father will be required to know all of the following information: each child's birthday, height, weight, shoe size, clothes size and doctor's name. Also the child's weight at birth, length, time of birth, and length of labor, each child's favorite color, middle name, favorite snack, favorite song, favorite drink, favorite toy, biggest fear and what they want to be when they grow up.

They must clean up after their sick children at 3:00 a.m. and then spend the remainder of the day tending to that child and waiting on them hand and foot until they are better.

Each man will have to make an Indian hut model with six toothpicks, a tortilla and one marker; and get a 4 year old to eat a serving of peas.

The kids vote them off the island based on performance.

The last man wins only if...he still has enough energy to be intimate with his spouse at a moments notice.

If the last man does win, he can play the game over and over and over again for the next 18-25 years...eventually earning the right to be called Mother!

Why I Write Romance

2005-03-18T08:53:00.000-08:00

I heard from a friend today, who'd had a very negative experience related to reading and writing. I knew it was time to remind myself why I climb out of bed every morning and boot up my computer. This is dedicated to both readers and writers everywhere. :)

I have a confession to make. I’m a book junkie. I have all the symptoms.

Many times, I have accidentally bought a book I already owned. And read it again anyway.

I start to feel twitchy and irritable if I go too many hours without reading.

I worry about characters in books. Will Marcy really marry that cad?

I often support other addictions with reading, for instance eating chocolates. Those colorful stains on the pages? I can personally testify that M&Ms really DO melt in your hand.

Sometimes, I start another book before finishing the previous one.

I miss important activities due to reading…such as, sleeping, exercising and conversing with my family.

I can’t help buying new books, even though I have bags … and boxes … and baskets … full of untouched books begging to be read.

I not only sent fan mail to an author I admired, I named my first child after her.

Are you dying to know who it was? Should I tell you?……..

Really?

You honestly want to know?

Okay, it was Danielle Steele. She wrote me back a lovely letter. The poor woman was probably afraid not to.

This addiction is all my Grandmother’s fault.

My very first memory is sitting in my pram, watching my librarian Grandma visit with patrons and stamp their books. I wasn’t even 2 years old, but I remember thinking, "that looks like so much fun! When I grow up, I want to laugh and joke with people and stamp books!"

Yes, I was a precocious kid, a "blessing" I passed on to my daughters.

But more than that, I believe the love of words was percolating in my blood from the moment I was born. My father was away serving in the Air Force, and my mom worked full time at the post office. The post office did not allow babies behind the counter.

Fortunately, the library where Grandma worked, did. I spent the first four years of my life surrounded by books and people who loved them.

In Republic, Washington – population at that time, about 800 – the library was a tiny white clapboard building with red trim. It boasted two cozy rooms, one for adults and one for children. Shelves of books lined the walls. The moment you stepped inside, the wondrous, cottony smell of paper and the sharp, crisp scent of ink surrounded you, drew you in.

The children’s room had three short red wooden tables and a dozen primary-colored wooden chairs "just the right size" for miniature bibliophiles. Bright blue step ladders helped vertically-challenged tots reach the upper levels.

During those happy times, Grandma and I went on adventures with Curious George, laughed with the Cat in the Hat and boogied with Maurice Sendak’s Wild Things.

When I was five, dad was transferred, and we moved, leaving grandma and the cozy little library behind. Soon, there was a new town, and a new library to explore.

It was a pattern our family repeated often over the years. The first thing we did after settling into our most recent house was find the town library and get our library cards.

It was lonely, always being the new kid. Sometimes it was hard. Meeting different people, adapting to different climates and accents. Saying goodbye to old friends. Attempting to connect with new ones.

But the characters who lived inside my favorite books never changed. My sisters and I would ride our bikes to town, and spend many delicious hours engaged in the selection process. Then we’d pedal home as fast as we could with our bike baskets stuffed full of books.

We couldn’t wait to grab a juicy apple and curl up with our treasures. I could depend on Joe and Frank Hardy to entertain me when I was bored. For Ann of Green Gables to make me laugh when I was blue. For the four March Sisters in Little Women to keep me company when I was lonely.

And hey, if I needed a good cry, the scene where Beth dies never failed to provide a three-hanky read. My childhood copy of Little Women is all warped on those particular pages.

In my preadolescent years, an astute librarian recommended Mary Stewart. Mary’s characters quickly became cherished companions. I eagerly glommed every book she wrote. Discovering a new one was pure joy. To this day, I can recite long passages of The Moon Spinners by heart.
I’ve read that book at least 50 times. I occasionally pull it out for a fond read-through…and you know what? Even after all these years, it holds up. It still gives me both goose bumps and grins.

Then when I was 14, a momentous event occurred in my life.

I discovered a box of Harlequin romances stashed in my mother’s closet. All that summer, I lounged on a blanket under the shade of the big oak tree in our back yard and devoured stories about complex, conflicted men and intelligent resourceful women with the courage to dive into the biggest adventure of all – falling in love.

My imagination was challenged, my soul captivated and my heart thoroughly hooked on the genre. Every couple not only deserved a happy ending, they got one.

Every single time.

When I was 18, I married my very own handsome prince. Yes, I look at my daughter now and cringe. Yikes! Waaay too young to get married!

But I knew within 10 minutes of meeting my husband-to-be that he was "the one."

It did take him a wee bit longer.

Difficult circumstances in my home life had shown me what I did not want in a spouse. Reading romances taught me what kind of man I did want. I learned that I did not have to put up with less than I deserved. I looked for an honorable man, like the heroes in my favorite romances. Someone kind. A man who would treat me with respect. A man who would love my intelligence and support me in whatever I chose to do.

Twenty-six years later, I am still thrilled to see my husband when he walks in the door.

During the past six years, prior to my publication, my husband worked approximately 7,000 hours of overtime so that I could stay home and write. Once, when a particularly nasty rejection made me cry, he sent me roses. The card that accompanied them expressed his complete and utter faith in me, and urged me to keep striving toward my dream.

Now that’s a hero, folks. I am truly blessed to have him in my life.

Back when I was first married, as a newlywed, I continued to read. I read when my husband was away in the Army and engaged in dangerous training, and I was so worried I could barely see straight. I read as a lonely young mother, at three in the morning, rocking a restless baby with one hand, holding a book in the other. I read sitting in dentist's waiting rooms, jittery with nerves. I read in hospital waiting rooms, nearly sick with dread.

The characters in those books became my friends. They helped me forget worry, loneliness, fear and pain…and run away to a new world…a new life…an exciting adventure where I could be happy…even for a while.

And that is why I write.

Some people belittle writers and readers – especially of romance. They think we’re living in a make believe world. They condemn us for wasting time with "trash."

But when I write, I’m reaching out to women – and perhaps a few men – but it’s mostly women who read romance.

Women who've had the worst day ever.

Women with nasty bosses.

Women with broken hearts.

Women who are sick and suffering.

Abused women who've been humiliated and hurt.

Women trying to overcome terrible circumstances I can't even begin to imagine enduring.

I hope that through my stories, I can help ease these women’s sufferings a little. I hope they forget their own troubled lives and take off on an adventure with my characters. That they escape from the real world.

And when they finish, when they reach "the end," and close the covers of the book, they go back to their own lives with a little more peace in their hearts.

Refreshed.

Uplifted.

Better able to cope.

Because in romance novels, good always defeats evil. Tomorrow is a better day. Relationships are mended, hope is restored, love triumphs over all.

This is why I write.

For the angst-ridden adolescent who wonders, "what does real, lasting love look like?"

For the office administrator stuck on the commuter bus forty minutes a day.

For the weary nurse on the cancer ward who's lost one too many patients.

For the young mother with three kids under three and reaching the end of her rapidly fraying rope.

For the elderly woman trapped in a body that no longer works, with a still-young mind that cries out for companionship.

What an incredible gift. What a humbling responsibility.

What a privilege.

Write on.

What I've been Up to....

2005-03-11T09:18:00.000-08:00

And it isn't writing.

I was feeling a little burned out trying to come up with two proposals back-to-back, and feeling like I was "forcing" my muse. It just wasn't working.

So, I sent in the proposal for my third 24 hour book...

Then I started decorating. *VBG*

WARNING: HGTV LANGUAGE AHEAD...........
I completely redid my kitchen (all except the horrible birch plank orangish stained cabinets, which will be painted white this summer). It was blue, a hold over from my 80's "pastel phase" and giving me the blues!! It's now buttercream with dark red and a few green accent pieces, and goes beautifully with the dining and living rooms, which I redid in reds, golds and greens two years ago.

I already had a lot of accessories I'd been collecting for several years in anticipation of the redo, and between that and "repurposing" items -- like taking apart my two-tiered microwave stand and painting it out and making it into two cupboards, and painting a little shelf that used to be my nightstand and adding cup hooks to make a "coffee station," -- I hardly spent any money. I even already had *just enough* fabric for curtains in my collection, (buttercream with red toile figures, which was the "inspiration piece" for the room), and I used an old, but perfectly good, white sheet to line them with. I spray painted the blue mini blinds white, for a total cost of $12 for spray primer and paint.

Notice to anyone wanting to try this maneuver: they won't go up and down anymore, but I didn't use them that way in that window, anyhow. They still open and close, and new blinds were $60. I saved enough money on those to pay for wall paint! With sheers over them, they look brand new!

I then cleaned out the "living area" of our backyard -- we've been having sunny, 70 degree weather for a couple of weeks, which is unheard of!! I got tired of our backyard looking like white trash lives here. We even had an old TV on the porch, waiting for the neighborhood recycling day, which never seems to arrive. So, we finally bit the bullet and let the garbage man take it away. I can't wait to see the "extra hauling bill.

I weeded most of my flower beds and had dh rip out all the high-maintenance roses, which had grown up to about 6 feet tall, because... I was writing instead of maintaining them! I replanted with low-maintenance perennials... peonies, gladiolas, campanula and coreopsis, sweet peas and a crape myrtle to shade our sun-blasted south-facing window.

I painted the ugliest back porch in the world with a faux marble pattern to disguise the unevenness and cracks using leftover paint from when I did the front porch last summer -- again NO COST!! It's milk chocolate with white chocolate "marbeling". Man, I wanted to eat that paint!! I cleaned up our patio set and hot-glued casters to the bottoms of all the metal furniture so it won't scrape up my new paint job. And my right hand hurts like hell from squeezing the glue gun for 2 hours straight. I've "rediscovered" my bodily awareness. Why is it that painting makes your butt muscles so sore??

This is what I do for "relaxation," folks. Yes, I am officially insane.

Personally, I think it's the instant gratification factor I don't have to have anything "approved," no "rewrites," no worries. I just get out the paint and go to town and BAM! Prettiness happens. *G*

Next week, I'll be preparing to go to my mom's for a few days on Spring break, which is the week after. It's a 1,100 mile round trip, and we're taking the puppy. And one of my fifteen year-old's best friends. Oh joy!!

I estimate getting back into writing around... April 1st, which is when my first 24 hour book comes out. (YEAH!!!)

But then our chapter's annual "Reader's Luncheon" is at the end of April and I'm the basket coordinator, which is a HUGE, time consuming job.

Methinks I'll be relieved to get back to writing. I hope so. I don't want it to be a chore, which is what it was starting to feel like, so taking a break was probably a good idea.

Probably.

We'll see if I can stop the decorating bug, now that it's running rampant. But hey, THAT should be burning out any time soon, too, right? I'm such an all-or-nothing gal. LOL!!

A Cat Goes To Heaven....

2005-02-17T09:08:00.000-08:00

A cat died and went to Heaven. God met the animal at the Pearly Gates and said, "You have been a good cat all of these years. Anything you want is yours for the asking."

The cat thought for a moment and then said, "All my life I lived on a farm and slept on hard, wooden floors... I would like a real fluffy pillow to sleep on."

God said, "Say no more." Instantly, the cat had a HUGE fluffy pillow.

A few days later, 12 mice were simultaneously killed in an accident and they all went up to Heaven together. God met the mice at the Gates of Heaven, with the exact same offer that He made to the cat.

The mice said, "Well, we have had to run all of our lives... from cats, dogs, and even from people with brooms. If we could just have some little roller-skates, we would never have to run again."

God answered, "It is done." All the mice had beautiful little roller-skates.

About a week later, God decided to check on the cat... He found her sound asleep on her fluffy pillow. God gently awakened the cat and asked, "Is everything okay? How have you been doing? Are you happy?"

The cat replied, "Oh, everything is just WONDERFUL... I've never been so happy in my life! My pillow is always fluffy and those little "Meals-on-Wheels" that you have been sending over are delicious. "

Book signing

2005-02-15T10:54:00.000-08:00

I just returned from my very first official book signing. It was an interesting experience. Aside from one Bozo who scornfully looked at our table and sneered "Oh, bodice rippers," and the guy who wanted to know how to locate Dr. Laura's latest, most folks who stopped by were very nice.

I have some tips for those of you who might be contemplating book signings in the future:

Confirm with your bookseller well ahead of time that they will be able to get (or already have) enough copies of your book for the event.

Make sure your bookseller is committed to the signing and advertises it. Our store manager was wonderful, and had placed ads in several local papers, had a huge poster outside the store and sent an employee downstairs to the mall entrance to pass out flyers. Even so, our foot traffic was light.

Don't sign alone. Misery loves company. Did you know the average number of books sold at a signing is FOUR? (Unless you're Nora, of course. *VBG*) Having other authors to talk to will help keep you company, and the variety will hopefully draw in more customers!

Bring giveaways. Chocolate is a must. If you have bookmarks or other promo items, take 'em. Display 'em. More people stopped for the free chocolate than anything else!

Using your own print program or the services of a professional copy service like Kinkos, make glossy posters of your book cover(s) and print excerpt flyers for upcoming releases. After the signing, ask the bookseller if you can leave them in the store for the employees to hand out to future customers.

And readers...if you see a poor lonely author (or several) parked at a table in the front of a book store, stop by, help yourself to some chocolate and say "Hi." You don't have to buy a book. A friendly face and a few words are more encouraging than you can imagine. :)

My "Call" Story

2005-02-07T15:35:00.000-08:00

I've been told that my "The Call" story is somewhat inspirational. In hopes that it will encourage other struggling writers, I'll repeat it here.

During the 5 1/2 years before I sold, I "quit" writing more times than I care to remember. In fact, right before I sold, I didn't write for over 8 months. There were many days when I'd receive clueless contest comments or another rejection letter, and I'd curl up on my bed and sob. It was my lifelong dream to share my stories with others, and at times, I didn't think it would ever come true.

Plus, my husband was our sole supporter, and I felt awful about how hard he worked. He put in over 7,000 hours of overtime over nearly 6 years so I could be a stay-at-home mom and write. He always supported me, and kept his faith in me through everything. He had no doubts I'd make it one day.

I entered over 100 contests and finaled in three. You wouldn't believe the number of contest judges who said, "You can't have a bank robber hero!"

Really? Well, DUH. Try reading between the lines, Einstein!

I confess, at the end, I stopped even looking at contest scores and comments if I didn't final. It just got too hard. When the return envelope came back, I'd toss it in the fireplace, unopened. I HAD to. I'd revised that ms as much as I was willing to via previous comments, and figured either they'd "get" it or not. If not, I didn't want to know anymore.

My critique partner convinced me to try a romantic comedy - something outside my normal sphere. I'd always wanted to write one, and I had a blast. It was only 65K and I aimed it at the now defunct Flipside line. I finished it in 6 weeks! (It normally takes me at least 5-6 months to write and polish a complete.)

Although that story has no home at the moment and needs massive rewriting to bring it up to a single title word count, crafting it taught me so much. For some reason, everything became crystal clear with that book. All the info I'd accumulated over the years "clicked" into place.

Diana got her groove back. :)

I got "The Call" from the editor who bought my first published manuscript just after that -- as a result of one of those three contest finals! -- and truly believe it was the right time for me. Had I sold before then, I would not have been prepared to write as a published author. (It really is very different.) I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason and everything we go through is to teach us and prepare us for what is to come. However, when you're living it, it can be hell. *wry grin*

Believe in yourself -- even when nobody else does. Did I mention my ms got around 28 rejections from editors and/or agents -- all for different reasons -- before my editor bought it? (In fact, once, I got two rejections on the same day from two different agents. Agent #1 said I had too much characterization and not enough plot. Agent #2 said I had too much plot and not enough characterization. What else can you do but laugh?)

Use your gut instinct to know when to change and when not to change your words. If you've written and rewritten and revised your ms and you think it finally works, then leave it be and move on. Don't homogenize down to the lowest common denominator, or you'll lose your voice. Some of the things other editors/agents hated, my editor LOVED. Your voice is what makes you unique. When push comes to shove, your voice will sell you -- to the right editor at the right time.

Hang in there!! It will happen!!

Notable Hubby Quote

2005-02-07T15:22:00.000-08:00

My dh was recently asked by an interviewer, "What have you learned from being the spouse of a published romance writer?"

His answer: "When the people who live in my wife's books are sad, she's sad. When they're happy, she's happy. And when they die, she cries. Obviously, they're much more than 'just characters' to her."

He paused for a moment and then added, "Oh yeah. And her 'research' looks suspiciously like eye candy."

Pictures of Cyrus

2005-02-03T16:51:00.000-08:00

PS: For anyone who is interested, there are pictures of Cyrus on the "About Me" page of my website.

Puppy Tales

2005-02-03T15:52:00.000-08:00

I've never owned a dog. Growing up, we always had cats. Last summer, my youngest daughter finally begged me into getting a puppy. It only took her 15 years. *G*

I always thought dogs were a lot of hard work. Much to my surprise, they're less work and more enjoyable than the children. It's okay. My kids know that Mom loves the dog best.

We named him Cyrus, a variation on the dog star, Sirius. We didn't want anyone to think we'd named our puppy "Serious."

A few weeks ago, it was time to take Cyrus in for "the operation." I was not a happy camper. He, being blissfully unaware, leapt at the offer, "Cyrus! Wanna go for a ride in the car?"

Armed with his doggie seatbelt, nametag, leash and special blankie, we headed for the vet's. I admit, I cried when I left him, in spite of the reassurances that he was in good hands, and they'd make sure his blankie was with him when he woke up. Hey, he was gonna be missing some major incidentals. He'd need his blankie!

The vet's office called two hours later and said he was fine, and I could pick him up at 3:00 that afternoon. It's a ten minute drive, but I left the house at 2:20, in case traffic was heavy. It was a Friday afternoon. It could happen. I wrote out a check for $170 (he'd had to have a couple teeth pulled and I also had him microchipped while he was out) and we drove home.

He seemed pretty perky, considering, and I breathed a sigh of relief that we'd made it through "the operation" unscathed.

Little did I know.

I followed the printed post-op instructions from the vet's office to the letter, checking his incision and limiting his boisterous activities.

The printed post-op instructions didn't say anything about licking. Or chewing.

Two days later, at 10:00 p.m. on a Sunday night, my daughter brought him into my bedroom in hysterics. "Cyrus chewed out his stitches! He's bleeding!"

Ohmigosh! Okay, let's not panic. He is bleeding. Nevermind, panic!

Dh - who works at a hospital, but not a dog hospital - blasely assured us he was fine, and suggested a maxi-pad, sticky side up.

Ummm...Let me think. No thanks.

The dog care book recommended a gauze pad. How are you gonna keep a gauze pad where a dog used to have his danglies? Simple! An elastic ace bandage over the gauze pad, wrapped around and under and over and around again, and held together with duct tape.

Okay, I admit it. My daughter and I began to giggle uncontrollably while we tried to wrangle a puzzled, squirming puppy into the elastic bandage. (It was probably the stress.)

Dh insisted that the dog was fine, and could wait till morning to see his regular vet. Daughter and I were not convinced. We bundled Cyrus into the car -"Cyrus! Do you wanna go for a ride in the car? - and sped - okay, drove very fast - to the emergency vet hospital. Where we waited. And waited.

And waited.

Cyrus twisted and whirled like a bellydancer with a bee in his bonnet, determined to get that bandage off all all costs. He certainly seemed to be keeping the folks in the waiting room entertained. Meanwhile, I realized that while we're sitting there I'm missing the latest episode of Desperate Housewives. Dang it.

When we finally got in to see the vet, the wound had been left alone long enough to seal itself closed. The vet gave us the resigned, "hysterical women look," explained about subcutaneous stitches being "chew proof," and said the dog was fine. He offered to put in a few staples (without anesthetic) to "ease our minds."

Ummm... let me think. No thanks!

He kindly refrained from laughing and even more kindly didn't charge us an exam fee. I wrote out a check for $19 for a huge plastic collar to keep Cyrus from chewing and threw in an additional dollar for their stray animal fund. With an extremely unhappy puppy wearing a satellite dish (Hey, I wonder if I can get HBO on that thing?) we drove home.

There was no way he'd fit in his crate wearing the collar, so dh (who wisely refrained from saying, 'I told you he was fine!') and I tucked him into bed with us. Ten minutes later, dh said, "He seems awfully subdued. I wonder if he can breathe okay?"

Oh, like I'm going to sleep after he says that? The satellite dish came off, and I stayed awake the rest of the night to make sure he didn't lick or chew. The dog. Not the dh.

I took Cyrus into his regular vet the next morning who repeated the "subcutaneous stitches" lecture and declared the dog was... all together now... fine.

If anyone is interested, I have a doggy satellite dish for sale, worn a grand total of 15 minutes. Cheap.

Cyrus! Wanna go for a ride in the car?

Ummm.... let me think.

Hell no!

I'm back...

2005-02-03T15:38:00.000-08:00

I know, I've been a bad, bad blogger! I haven't posted in far too long.

However, I DO have reasons!

1. The site wouldn't work for me. It didn't. Well, okay, twice when I tried, it didn't work.

2. The Holidays hit like a hurricane.

3. I had author alterations to do over The Holidays.

4. I had to take down The Holiday decorations.

5. I had to get the puppy neutered after The Holidays.

6. I had to sort three boxes of receipts so the accountant won't whine when he does my taxes.

7. I need to complete the proposals for the next two books in my 24 hour series, and I have
no idea what they're about.

8. I ran out of coffee. (A major emergency, second only to running out of chocolate.)

9. We had an ice storm, and our electricity wasn't working. (Between the hours of 1:00 a.m.- 4:00 a.m., but, hey, it wasn't working.)

10. I got TIVO...and for some strange reason, I have less time on my hands!

I'll try to do better in the future.

Honest.

I will.

Really. ;)

2004-09-29T11:22:00.000-07:00

I don't know who this guy is... but he's gorgeous!

It's outta here... and so am I (temporarily!)

2004-09-29T11:13:00.000-07:00

HOOORAYYYYYYYYYYY!! My manuscript landed on my editor's desk yesterday... three whole days before deadline. Whew! Have I mentioned how much I despise pushing deadlines? Yes, I'm one of those annoyingly anal...er...organized people who arrive everywhere ten minutes early. Unfortunately, family stuff set me back a month, and I had no choice.

And I'm off to Emerald City (Seattle) for a conference! I'll be networking with other authors, editors and agents, attending workshops and socializing. The best part is hanging out with other writers for three days. Nobody "gets the weirdness" except another writer. *G*

I'll leave you with some eye candy until I return with hopefully, some good news and lots of gossip.

Of course, it's Monday

2004-09-20T09:20:00.000-07:00

Okay, I confess. I've sunk to a new low. This morning, I went to Wal-Mart in my flannel pj bottoms and yesterday's sweatshirt.

In my defense, I do have an excuse. Sorta. Daughter #2 had me up between 3:00-5:00 a.m. because she was "dying" from a migraine. (Do you see a pattern forming here?) We both overslept the alarm and ended up with 10 minutes to get her to school. Did I mention it takes 10 minutes just to drive her there? Somehow, by the grace of God, we made it. And that includes inserting my contact lenses. I wouldn't dare drive with my five year old glasses in place.

So, I'm tooling around Wal-Mart at the buttcrack of dawn, looking like a refugee in my pilled pjs and verklempt hairdo. Ya'll know what happens next, right? Ya'll are ahead of me on this one, aren't you? Naturally, I run into a woman from church that I haven't seen for a long time. And to make matters worse, I have a huge bag of Ole Roy dog chow in my cart.

Now, far be it from me to complain, but I still don't understand why the breeder we got our puppy from fed all the expensive, purebred little darlings Ole Roy. Well, maybe I do. I'm sure cost figured into her decision. But every careful attempt on my part to switch our puppy, Cyrus, to Science Diet (which is what I feed my cats and what the vet recommends) results in a disastrous bout of the ~ pardon my language so early in the morning ~ dreaded doggy diarrhea.

Naturally, my acquaintance from church was on her way to work, and wearing a darling red sweater set, plaid skirt, full makeup and she'd actually combed her hair. Her cart contained a tasteful assortment of office supplies. I felt like Clark Griswold and Cousin Eddie from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. (Another confession here: I love that movie! It's a family tradition to watch it every year. *G* Those of you who haven't seen it, be warned, some of the language is not for kiddies.)

Oh well. I ended up buying some darling fall dishes to display on my mantel. Oh yeah, and six ink cartridges so I can print up the manuscript due on my editor's desk in ... ACK! ... ten days. The one that isn't finished yet.

Why am I blogging? I'd better get writing!!

Until later... Happy Monday, everyone! :)

A Cautionary Tale...

2004-09-18T20:39:00.000-07:00

Nick the Dragon Slayer had a long-standing obsession to nuzzle the beautiful Queen's voluptuous breasts, but he knew the penalty for this would be death. One day he revealed his secret desire to his colleague, Horatio the Physician, who was the King's chief doctor.

Horatio the Physician exclaimed that he could arrange for Nick the Dragon Slayer to satisfy his desire, but it would cost him 1,000 gold coins to arrange it. Without pause, Nick the Dragon Slayer readily agreed to the scheme.

The next day, Horatio the Physician made a batch of itching powder and poured a little bit into the Queen's brassiere while she bathed. Soon after she dressed, the itching commenced and grew intense.

Upon being summoned to the Royal Chambers to address this incident, Horatio the Physician informed the King and Queen that only a special saliva, if applied for four hours, would cure this type of itch, and that tests had shown that only the saliva of Nick the Dragon Slayer would work as the antidote to cure the itch.

The King quickly summoned Nick the Dragon Slayer. Horatio the Physician then slipped Nick the Dragon Slayer the antidote for the itching powder, which he quickly put into his mouth, and for the next four hours, Nick worked passionately on the Queen's voluptuous and magnificent breasts. The Queen's itching was eventually relieved, and Nick the Dragon Slayer left satisfied and touted as a hero.

Upon returning to his chamber, Nick the Dragon Slayer found Horatio the Physician demanding his payment of 1,000 gold coins. With his obsession now satisfied, Nick the Dragon Slayer couldn't have cared less, and knowing that Horatio the Physician could never report this matter to the King, shooed him away with no payment made.

The next day, Horatio the Physician slipped a massive dose of the same itching powder into the King's loincloth. The King immediately summoned Nick the Dragon Slayer.....

2004-09-18T20:18:00.000-07:00

Hunk of the week...warning, take your heart medications before viewing.

Hunk Festival

2004-09-18T20:08:00.000-07:00

YES! This thing allows pictures! Now I can share dishy guys with ya'll! :)

Life in the fast lane...

2004-09-14T15:17:00.000-07:00

Ah, yes. Today started out with a bang and went downhill from there. Cyrus, our new puppy, whimpered at 3:30 a.m. to go out. He didn't quite make it outside yesterday, and I found myself wiping puddles off my hardwood floor in the middle of the night. So I rushed to the back door, slid my feet into my shoes and reached for the handle. Seconds later, my brain registered the cold, squishy sensation between my toes.

I flipped on the light and discovered that one of the cats had barfed in my shoes.

Now, I ask you, with over a thousand square feet of floor space to upchuck on, (including the normally favored rug), why would the little darlings choose my shoes? I'll tell you why. Because the fractious felines have been plotting evil ever since we brought the puppy home. They've been watching me run to the back door and hurrying him outside every night. They knew the best place to exact kitty revenge.

You can bet I'll be keeping my eye on those two from now on.

At 9:00 a.m., I found myself in the car driving daughter #2 to the vet...er...I mean doctor... with a fever and sore throat. Did I mention that I have copy edits on MIDNIGHT HERO due in four days, and the complete manuscript of TRUTH OR DARE due on my editor's desk in two weeks? After a throat swab, ~ of course, it's strep ~ a prescription pickup (requiring a loan on our home mortgage) and a stop for juice and popsicles, we made it home by noon.

Since my concentration was shot by then, plus I was getting interrupted about 400 times an hour by numerous requests for juice, popsicles and hugs, I decided to bag writing and work on my website. Funny, this is the same decision I made yesterday after paying bills all morning, and then getting a phone call from school ~ "Mom, I threw up. Come and get me."

Vomit seems to be a theme in my life lately. Let's hope that's not my editor's reaction after she reads the new manuscript. *G*

Naturally, after the doctor's visit and errands were completed, and the kid was finally settled on the couch with a DVD (THE GOONIES ~ great movie, filmed right here in Oregon!), dh called and said he had some hours coming at work and was on his way home. The man's timing is impeccable, as always.

On the upside, my website is lookin' pretty good. I even got excerpts from both new books posted. :)