I’d post pictures, but wordpress and flickr are currently having a battle to the death. I’ve got money riding on flickr, but wordpress is holding its own.
I hope all of you have a great Halloween!
*That line is from MacBeth, spoken by one of the witches in the opening scene, if any of you are scratching your head going “I know that damn quote, who the hell used it?!”
That is how my morning has been. I managed one cup of coffee compared to my usual four before running out the door to the commissary and post office. I figured I could get both of them done before the rush and be home by the time all the insanity started.
Ah, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions.
I left the house before 1000. I just got home about ten minutes ago. And I think the elderly wife of a retired soldier broke half my toes when she parked her shopping cart on top of my foot.
I’m going to hide in my house until Tuesday. The insanity should be over by then.
Another month, another writing contest. And this time, I’m prepared. I bowed down to the God of Plot Planning, and have a rough outline. Very rough. Think Alaska before the settlers rough. If I fine tuned it anymore than that, I’d kill the story.
I’ve got my music on shuffle, trying to find the songs that work best with the new WIP. So far, the story is liking the Doors and Ramallah. And Debussy.
Now, to give you something full of cute.
This weekend, well, yesterday, had me tearing up in a good way, followed swiftly by a WTF?!
First- I was out walking Thunder Butt (well, she was dragging me, but that’s neither here nor there), taking in the Halloween decorations, when she about yanked me off my feet as she beelined for another yellow Labrador. Thank Bob for Labs being nice and friendly, because her ‘new friend’ would have been right to eat her face off as she bolted after him.
See, he was old. Very old. His entire face was gray and the little pouch under his neck hung down like a turkey gobbler. The owner, a man about my age, said the dog was fourteen. Which, for a Lab, is like a hundred and five years to a human. We stood talking for a bit while the old man stared Thunder Butt down- my dog has the attention span of a box of Twinkies, so it wasn’t long before she was ready to chase invisible aliens again.
As we walked away, I looked back to watch the old man and his owner walk away- each step slow as the dog fought against being old. And the man kept petting him as they walked, rubbing that top of that gray head.
Yeah, I got teary.
And realized that Thunder Butt’s muzzle has started to gray. And cried some more.
Fast forward to the WTF part. Have you seen Pawn Stars? I thought I’d give it a go, since reality television is apparently the new X-Files. And regretted it almost instantly. A guy went in to pawn his grandfathers WWII uniform. His grandfather has been an officer in the U.S. Army Air Corps. Which doesn’t even exist anymore. But he pawned it like it meant nothing. And I got pissed. I understand not wanting to keep it around in the house, especially when everyone is ‘downgrading’ to a more sustainable lifestyle. Maybe he was moving into a smaller house. But why not give it to a museum? Or a historical society that specializes in WWII memorabilia?
Maybe I get too attached to things to understand it.
Today’s blog title was stolen from the wonderful Lynn Viehl over at GenReality. Can I have a few published orgasms? Wait, still polishing the novel, the orgasms shall have to wait.
How many Gerbers are there in my house? I found three of them while looking for a notebook yesterday, all of them in or around my desk. If ever I need a set of pliers while updating the blog, I’m covered.
Since the tick episode, Thunder Butt has been very leery of letting me touch her belly- she probably thinks I’ve got the tweezers behind my back and I’m going to start ripping fur out by the root.
Writing, while I love it, feels like I’m ripping the words out by the root. So I’m taking the day off. Why? Because if I don’t, I’m going to nuts in a Krispy Kreme and eat a dozen lemon creme filled donuts in under a minute. Which is never a good thing. So, day off it is. Maybe I can finish up that Christmas gift for Sister.
Or, I can say “fuck all” and go back to bed and not come out until Monday.
Either or.
Have you ever had the urge to go psychotic with a bottle of kerosene and a book of matches? Just wondering- and acting on the urges is a lot different than having the urges.
I’ve pimped the Bitches on here before, and I’m doing it again. I agree, I don’t think it’s the safe taboo that has people reading vampire books late at night, to the detriment of their school or work.
Sure, some people like the safe taboo. I.E. the Edward. Then there are those who like “rip your throat out and toss your body off a bridge” vampires- guess which ones I go for?
Another part of the appeal, at least to most women, is the eternal youth bit without spending thousands of dollars on anti-aging creams and botox and God knows what else.
Well, eternal youth if you’re lucky enough to get turned when you’re young and hot and things are still where they’re supposed to be versus answering gravity. Because once those breasts start to sag, it’s all down hill from there.
And no more PMS? Hell, I’d be signing on that dotted line faster than even Vampire Eric could blink.
In other news, Thunder Butt had her first tick last night. I grew up in the North, where ticks meant Lyme disease nine times out of ten. Down here, Lyme disease isn’t as big, but I’m still paranoid. So, I’ve been researching it and comparing the symptoms to how she’s acting. Which is harder than you might think, because the only time TB actually is active, is when I break out Spot the Red Dot, or when she wants to play. The rest of the time, she’s snoring. No joke, all she’s done since we got out of bed was lay on her dog bed in the living room… sleeping.
I’m placing bets on how long it will be before I’m down on the dog bed with her, clipboard and notebook in hand, and gauging her temperature by how warm her belly is. Then calling the animal ER to see what they say.
Thank Bob they don’t charge for phone calls, or I’d be screwed.
Romance books are big chunk of what people read. No joke- one of the biggest markets out there is for romance, any romance, books.
And when you add military to the romance, it should be a whiz-bang of a best seller, right? Uniforms, honor, duty, and the whole hero complex does it for most women. We like the idea of an alpha male, even if we know we’d bash his head in with a stoneware baking sheet in real life.
Right up until it’s proven without a doubt that the author has never been part of the military, nor did they bother doing their research. Sarah Frantz had the same thoughts- but she was actually part of the military vs. just being married to it.
The part about the platoon sergeant who not only got called ’sir’ by a LT, but bossed said LT around, had me laughing so hard I spilled coffee across my keyboard. Which has since been drained, cleaned, and put back together. My husband will never know.
Have you heard about the Wal-Mart vs Amazon pricing war? “How long can you go” has taken on a whole new meaning- and it’s the publishing houses and the authors who are going to be injured in the long run.
Eric at Pimp My Novel has a very informative post on the whole thing- versus what was sure to be an emotional rant from me about monopolizing our books, he actually has his facts laid out.
Lots to do today before I can get down to doing the author thing- I keep hoping to wake up one morning and have minions, but, so far, it’s just me and Thunder Butt.
Since D. left, I’ve had more than a little time on my hands that isn’t taken up by “Oh, I have to visit the babies”. What have I done with that time? I’ve gotten back on the writing band wagon (which also means I’m back on the paranoid band wagon, and also the Psychotic Editor band wagon) and I’ve tried to use up all those fabric scraps around my house.
I wrote 2K yesterday, and made two book covers. In Care Bear print. These would be an extreme example of why you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, because in those sweet little Care Bear fabrics are hidding COVET by J.R. Ward and KITTY RAISES HELL by Carrie Vaughn. I don’t think either book would be endorsed by Funshine Bear.
I also did up the cast pages for both Cliodhna and myself. And my little FTC disclosure. I learned the whole “cover your ass” from hospital workers- you want to see true paranoia? Go to a hospital on the days state comes in to check everything. Took weeks for the stink of nervous sweat to dissipate.
Back to writing- I still need a title for the short. I hate picking out titles more than I hate going to the doctor.
I love the classics.
I’m doing another edit run on Gentry, because I’m going to query an agent next week (if I can get everything glowing because, I’ll admit, I suck at query writing) and I just want to triple check everything. Again. You can always improve something, and while I thought it was perfect the last time I went through the book, you can never be too sure.
I’m trying to get all my chores/errands done today so I can spend the weekend doing nothing but writing, but let’s be realistic- I’m probably going to write all day today and tomorrow and then be pissy I don’t have any clean clothes come Sunday.