Marissa Turner

Further devolving into a woman who likes rom com (what happened to the me who loved action flicks and aliens?  I miss that me) I rented From Paris With Love the other night.  A bald Travolta should be entertaining, and reviews tooted him as the coolest Travolta since Pulp Fiction. 

Aside from stabbing a guy in the throat with a gun barrel- which I’m going to call BS on, because just… no.  Stakes, knives, spoons, pizza cutter, even the little kids safety silverware (you know, the kind where the forks have rounded tips instead of pointy tips) I can accept, but not a gun barrel.  It was a small gun and the barrel wasn’t long enough for me, with my midget hands, to have a good enough grip on it to stab someone in the throat with it.  And John Travolta has bigger hands than me.

Other than that, it was a cute movie.  And it’s nice to Jonathan Rhys Meyers playing someone other than a king, be it royalty or the king of rock n roll.

Another reason why I read lit agent blogs: so I have it reaffirmed that acting like a dumbass will not get you ahead of the game.

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Got a new book yesterday.  It’s just over 300 pages. 

It took a good chunk of a year to get written, edited, polished up, cover art made, a final approval, and then published and put in my grubby little hands.

And I read the whole thing in less than 24 hours.

I’m not sure if that makes the author feel good or not.  I know how I’d feel about it (sleep dep makes you stronger, read it again!).

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I’ve been a bit down lately. Not depressed, as I’m over it now, but the whole holiday weekend thing, when I’ve no close family around, is a bit of a pain in the ass. Ninety percent of everything is set up for family or couples. Well, right now, it’s just me and the dog, and last time I checked, they don’t allow dogs in movie theatres, stores, or restaurants.

So, I was pissy. Upset, lonely, and cranky over the whole mess. I’m better now.

So much better that I’m writing. Granted, part of that writing meant I slaughtered 1800 words in my current manuscript, but still, it’s writing. And the remaining words are good. I think they’re good anyway.

And I’ve been going a little nuts with the whole reading thing.  Shelly Laurenston (her Magnus Pack books), Melissa Marr (her free short STOPPING TIME), Carrie Vaughn (VOICES OF DRAGONS), Maggie Stiefvater (SHIVER), and Patricia Briggs (SILVER BORNE) just to name a few. My brain is very happy to be stuffed with books- my body is not happy that all this reading is keeping me up late. Like not going to bed until after 0400 up late. I’m working on getting better.

Now, for writing and studying. I had put off taking my national certification until June, but I’m thinking of pushing that time frame up for next month. Which means I actually have to do the studying instead of skimming the book and hoping I retain what I just read.

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I have a Nook.  I love my Nook, I love it more than some people love their own children.  However, I understand that the Nook doesn’t always give me what I want.  That is not the fault of the Nook- nor is it the fault of the author.  Publishers are the ones who pick when a book is released, and also when an e-book is released (if at all).  It is not because the author is a horrible person.

The new book from Patricia Briggs came out this week, and while I freely admit I love (love, love, LOVE) her books, I do not have a copy of it right now.  I was hoping to get it on the Nook, but an e-book version of Silver Borne isn’t out yet.  No problem, I’ll either way, or break down and buy a hardback version of it.

I seem to be alone in my patience though- I was looking on Barnes & Nobel, and saw that people were leaving bad reviews on her book (and other books I looked up) because an electronic version wasn’t available. 

This is like shooting the Western Union boy when he delievered a telegram you didn’t want.  It won’t get you an e-book faster, and it only drags down the authors ratings on that site (which many of them follow) all because you had a hissy fit. 

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My morning consisted of laundry (which I’m still doing) and shoveling snow (which I need to do again).  I admit, I like snow.  I like to play it, make angels in it, catch it on my tongue, and watch my dog run crazy through it.  But I don’t like shoveling it or driving in it.  So, I’m housebound.

Yesterday was spent at the outlets with friends, and despite being mildly uncomfortable in a few of the stores (no joke, I bought things on sale because I honestly cannot understand spending $40 on a shirt, at least not an every day shirt.  Now, when I dress up, I go all out with a dress and stockings and heels and all that fun stuff, but my every day wear can be found at WalMart.  The main reason for that is the cost of things, and also because I’m more likely to go ‘eh, whatever’ when Thunder Butt rips a hole in a $1 t shirt versus her ripping a hole in a $25 shirt. 

But, I got a few things on sale, plus a copy of LET THE RIGHT ONE IN, which I’ve heard rave reviews about and have been meaning to read for some time now.  No one has a good copy of WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE or GOODNIGHT MOON, which are two books that I *need* to have my shelf.  I’ve got the Narnia collection, Alice in Wonderland, Old Yeller, and the other books that I remember playing a big role in my childhood. 

But first, I have to be an adult and finish my laundry.  I’m still waiting for the damn cobbler’s elves to come to my house and take care of this crap for me.  Because then I could focus on other things, like writing the book in my head.

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Cyndra meets Cliodhna.  Dead bodies ensue.

Maybe I should look into professional help- this whole killing people thing cannot be good for my psyche.

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I got little writing done this weekend.  Friday and Saturday both I had social obligations, and come Sunday, I waiting for the tornado to touch down.  The emergency warning system here on post, left over from the days of bomb drills, went off at 0300 Sunday morning that we were under a tornado watch, and scared the bejeesus out of me.  I spent the rest of that night in fitful sleep, watching out the bedroom window to in case the tornado happened to touch down while I was awake.  It was beautiful to see Mother Nature in a fury.

With the tornado warning came colder weather, so I finally cast on for my Man Cowl (Mowl for short).  I’m using Wicked Witch (second row, far right), held double, and it’s so soft.  The colorway is perfect; I chose it because it reminds me of something my mother once said.

Me: “Mama, where’s the broom?”

Her: “You should know Sissy, you rode it last!” 

Perfect for me colorway, right?  Right.

I finished making her (Mama’s) fingerless gloves last night, and, if I do say so myself, they’re perfect.  Well, maybe not perfect, but they look good.  And MB’s hat is washed and blocked, so I’m ready with the gifts whenever they come visit.

Now, I need to finish my coffee.  Does anyone else sound like gravel before they have their first cup of the morning, or is it just me?  Seriously, my ‘just woke up’ voice could make me tons of money in phone sex, if I actually cared to work that career.  Once I’ve had coffee, the voice goes away, and it’s not until the coffee that I’m nice enough to deal with anyone.

Since it’s Monday, and we all need a chuckled, here’s something from an email D sent me (and C-baby texted me):

“No woman will ever be truly happy because no man will have a chocolate penis that ejaculates money!”

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