I'm working on my to do list/timeline to get the new year off on the right foot. In the meantime, I thought I'd tell you about a couple more books to check out.
Good Grief by Lolly Winston: An amazing story about a young widow (she's only 36) and all that she suffers trying to get her life back together after her husband's death. It's not as depressing as it sounds -- in fact, it's funnier than you can imagine in several parts. The book, for being about grief and death, strikes me as saying an awful lot about life and how important, beautiful and fragile it is, so take it all in and enjoy it. What I liked best about this book was that the deceased husband wasn't perfect. The narrator remembered his flaws; among them, a messy car. But she also acknowledged the fact that dead people become these perfect iconographic representations of their true selves after death. We try remember only the good things, diminishing the bad. Except that isn't being true to the person, nor does it make it very easy for anyone else to live up to that perfection.
It's good writing and a deeply touching and funny story. Read the first paragraph and see if you want to put it down -- here's the link to the sample on bn.com.
Twilight by Meg Cabot, Book six in the Mediator series: This is my favorite Meg Cabot series, for YA or A *grin*, so I'm sorry to see it go, but it was so wonderful to see everything all wrapped up. *Hint* for those of you that know me, you already know how the story ends if I'm recommending it to you : ) As for the story, it goes something like this. Suze Simon is a mediator, one who mediates with ghosts in an effort to take care of their last requests and move them along to the next plane of existence. In this last book, Suze has a problem because she's fallen in love with a ghost, Jesse, and another mediator, Paul, who wants to date Suze is jealous. Paul wants Jesse gone for good. Suze will do almost anything to stop him...but will that be enough?
Unfortunately, no excerpt for this one. But I highly encourage you to check out the series. It starts with Shadowland.
Okay, I also got a whole bunch of books for Christmas, not to mention some gift certificates, so I'm sure I'll have at least a few more recommendations soon. My goal is to get them put together in a GalaxSHE newsletter and send that out too.
I'll have to add it to my to do list : )
Have a safe and Happy New Year!
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
"Where are we going and why am I in this handbasket?"
The title of today's blog comes from another of the t-shirts in the catalogue that my parents used to order the t-shirt I got for Christmas (see yesterday's entry). But it pretty much sums up what's going on. I need to get organized. I've been sloughing off lately, I think just the let down of so much activity all at once in the fall. I don't have anything out there to agents or publishers and yet I have three, count them three, manuscripts sitting at home. None of them are the final, finished product, but close enough that I should be thinking about making final edits and getting them out there!!! If I'm going to make this my career, I need to start treating certain aspects of it in a more career-like way. Like setting actual deadlines. I don't do that for writing. That stresses me out. But for sending out queries and such. Otherwise, because I don't like that aspect of the business, I tend to put it off and do the fun stuff instead, writing!
So, my goal for tomorrow is to come up with a list of activities outside of writing but associated with it and get some deadlines set for them. Doing this is actually the only way I ever got motivated to start sending out letters for The Silver Spoon. My husband, tired of hearing me talk about how the book wasn't ready yet, suggested that I set a date and try to reach it. And yeah, there was a bet involved. I won : ) The Silver Spoon went out to my first readers in October of that year.
Okay, whew. Deep breath. I have a feeling I'm going to have to talk myself through this one : )
So, my goal for tomorrow is to come up with a list of activities outside of writing but associated with it and get some deadlines set for them. Doing this is actually the only way I ever got motivated to start sending out letters for The Silver Spoon. My husband, tired of hearing me talk about how the book wasn't ready yet, suggested that I set a date and try to reach it. And yeah, there was a bet involved. I won : ) The Silver Spoon went out to my first readers in October of that year.
Okay, whew. Deep breath. I have a feeling I'm going to have to talk myself through this one : )
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
I'd forgotten how much it sucks to be at work this week.
Yes, I am at work. *sigh* I've done this to myself several times now. I think, "Hey, it'll be kind of cool because no one will be here, so why waste the vacation day?" But here's the thing: I'm always, always WRONG when I think this. There are just enough people to call/email you with questions and set up meetings. Just enough people to annoy you by trying to shove difficult projects through before the end of the year. ARRRGGHH! Kick me next year, if I say that I'm going to work this week.
So, the end of another year. I'm always very anxious round about this time. I liked this current year, wouldn't mind doing it over again, especially with the foreknowledge of events to make it even better. 2005 looms unknown, unpredictable and SCARY. However, this year my age is an odd number so that usually seems to work out okay for me. Don't ask. I don't know why I think this. Actually, maybe I do. I was seventeen the year that the torture known as high school ended. I met some of my dearest friends when I was seventeen. Met my husband and had the best year of college when I was nineteen. I completed four of them, years of college, I mean. My sophomore year was just the best one. When I turned twenty one, I got to go to bars legally and I got a job (okay, so maybe not such a hot year that one). Twenty three, I got married : ) Twenty five...I can't even remember. Isn't that sad? Twenty seven, I started sending out The Silver Spoon to agents and publishers. Getting published (year 28) was a whole separate dream coming true. Just getting it to the point where I felt brave enough to send out was huge for me.
It's weird for me to think that just last year at this time, I was on pins and needles because two, count them two, publishers had asked for a full of my manuscript. One of them even emailing me on New Year's Eve to ask for it. : ) Wow. How much has happened in a year!
No such luck this year. I don't have any queries out there as I don't have anything that's quite ready yet. Mainly because instead of going back and fixing things, I keep starting new stuff. Yeah, not the brightest thing to do. But I'm working on it -- trying to figure out how to revise Bitter Pill and writing the outline/synopsis for the sequel to The Silver Spoon.
Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Among my gifts, a book about debunking linguistic urban legends (so cool!), a t-shirt that says, "So many books, so little time" (so true!) and a beautiful, engraved picture frame with my name and "author" beneath it for book signings and such (so needed!)
So, the end of another year. I'm always very anxious round about this time. I liked this current year, wouldn't mind doing it over again, especially with the foreknowledge of events to make it even better. 2005 looms unknown, unpredictable and SCARY. However, this year my age is an odd number so that usually seems to work out okay for me. Don't ask. I don't know why I think this. Actually, maybe I do. I was seventeen the year that the torture known as high school ended. I met some of my dearest friends when I was seventeen. Met my husband and had the best year of college when I was nineteen. I completed four of them, years of college, I mean. My sophomore year was just the best one. When I turned twenty one, I got to go to bars legally and I got a job (okay, so maybe not such a hot year that one). Twenty three, I got married : ) Twenty five...I can't even remember. Isn't that sad? Twenty seven, I started sending out The Silver Spoon to agents and publishers. Getting published (year 28) was a whole separate dream coming true. Just getting it to the point where I felt brave enough to send out was huge for me.
It's weird for me to think that just last year at this time, I was on pins and needles because two, count them two, publishers had asked for a full of my manuscript. One of them even emailing me on New Year's Eve to ask for it. : ) Wow. How much has happened in a year!
No such luck this year. I don't have any queries out there as I don't have anything that's quite ready yet. Mainly because instead of going back and fixing things, I keep starting new stuff. Yeah, not the brightest thing to do. But I'm working on it -- trying to figure out how to revise Bitter Pill and writing the outline/synopsis for the sequel to The Silver Spoon.
Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas! Among my gifts, a book about debunking linguistic urban legends (so cool!), a t-shirt that says, "So many books, so little time" (so true!) and a beautiful, engraved picture frame with my name and "author" beneath it for book signings and such (so needed!)
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Query letter, part two
As they say, no good deed goes unpunished! You guys were so helpful to me on my query question the other day, I’m going to ask for more help. Stacy G., in reviewing the letter, brought up a really good point.
She said, “One observation -- is saying that Rennie is a ‘real woman with real problems’ a bit too harsh of a condemnation of all the women out there who bake and knit but may still be pill popping psychopaths dealing with abusive ex-boyfriends? ...I just want to make sure you don't alienate women (esp. editors & publishers) who may take that one quote personally : )”
Here’s the thing. She’s totally right. And it is something I thought about when writing the letter. I’m definitely NOT intending to imply that if you like knitting or sewing, you’re not a real woman with real problems. That would be like someone saying the reverse to me, that because I don’t like either of these things that I can’t call myself a real woman. Eeesh. Totally not at all what I meant. So, I’ve got to figure out a way to get across what I mean accurately.
In my experience, most cozy mysteries are targeted toward women readers. As such, they frequently revolve around what people would stereotypically consider female-specific hobbies or jobs. Knitting, sewing, cooking, antiquing, baking, etc. The publishers purchase these books because they, the books, are perceived to have an appeal to a specific part of the audience. Books where the main character knits and belongs to a knitting group will likely appeal to women who knit. Books where the main character owns her own catering business appeal to people who like to cook. The principle behind this is that people enjoy books where they can see some reflection of themselves, where it’s easy for them to relate to the main character and even imagine being that main character.
The problem comes in when you have people like me. I love cozies. There’s never too much blood or angst over preserving fingerprints or worrying about the police. But by and large, most of the cozies are written for these specialty groups, so you get mysteries about knitting, sewing or being a chaperone on granny’s trips to the Alps. I can’t imagine myself doing any of those things, so it’s hard for me to enjoy the books.
When I sat down to write Bitter Pill, I wanted to write the kind of cozy mystery that I would enjoy. A funny (I hope) main character who always finds herself in trouble, trouble that mainly seems to involve the sheriff and a dead body. She has problems in her life -- a marriage that didn’t work out, a sick mother, a miscarriage, a love interest that’s already married. She’s doing what she can to get by, living her life, trying to do the right thing and also be happy. She is essentially one of “us.” She works and enjoys the freedom of having money, but she’s not obsessed with a career – at least not anymore.
She has a soft heart, always looking to take in the unwanted, whether it’s dogs or children. She has a keen sense of justice (a requirement for a mystery heroine) and seeing the “right” thing happen is important to her, even as she struggles to apply it to her own life (she knows that being in love with a married man is wrong, but she can’t seem to stop it.)
In short (too late!), I wanted Rennie to be someone we would know and recognize, someone we might be friends with, despite her flaws.
So, how to encapsulate that in a selling tool, which is essentially what a query letter is. I’ve been thinking more and more that this sounds like a blend of two different genres, chicklit and cozy mystery. Arrrggh. I was trying so hard not to blur genres this time around – makes a book harder to sell.
The term “Chicklit” is typically applied to stories where the plot or subplot involves a woman becoming more comfortable with herself and her love life, or lack thereof. It doesn’t always end with the woman getting married or even ending up with the guy. It’s more about the trials and tribulations of finding love and loving yourself for who you are instead of who you want to be. I would say that definitely applies to Rennie, though that’s the area that probably needs more fleshing out. The mystery part is self-evident. Dead body plus investigation equals mystery.
So, I can change my query letter to say a “chicklit mystery.” That’s not a problem. But I’m still struggling with how to get across the lack of a niche, like knitting or sewing or baking, and how that’s not a problem but instead an advantage. A way to tap into a hidden segment of the book-buying market. I could describe the readers as modern women who are not interested in the stereotypical female activities. But that's not very catchy at all. Women who are redefining what it means to be a woman -- eh...catchier but a little too ambiguous. I think I'm missing something here. I'm going to have to sit down and think about this some more.
But if you have questions/comments/suggestions, please give them to me. I need them all!!!! : )
And I just want to repeat, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with a good mystery involving knitting, sewing, scrapbooking, etc. It just doesn't work for me. I'm looking to get a book out there that appeals to me and others like me (assuming there are others!)
Also, I won’t likely be posting until next week, so have a very Merry Christmas everyone and safe travel : )
She said, “One observation -- is saying that Rennie is a ‘real woman with real problems’ a bit too harsh of a condemnation of all the women out there who bake and knit but may still be pill popping psychopaths dealing with abusive ex-boyfriends? ...I just want to make sure you don't alienate women (esp. editors & publishers) who may take that one quote personally : )”
Here’s the thing. She’s totally right. And it is something I thought about when writing the letter. I’m definitely NOT intending to imply that if you like knitting or sewing, you’re not a real woman with real problems. That would be like someone saying the reverse to me, that because I don’t like either of these things that I can’t call myself a real woman. Eeesh. Totally not at all what I meant. So, I’ve got to figure out a way to get across what I mean accurately.
In my experience, most cozy mysteries are targeted toward women readers. As such, they frequently revolve around what people would stereotypically consider female-specific hobbies or jobs. Knitting, sewing, cooking, antiquing, baking, etc. The publishers purchase these books because they, the books, are perceived to have an appeal to a specific part of the audience. Books where the main character knits and belongs to a knitting group will likely appeal to women who knit. Books where the main character owns her own catering business appeal to people who like to cook. The principle behind this is that people enjoy books where they can see some reflection of themselves, where it’s easy for them to relate to the main character and even imagine being that main character.
The problem comes in when you have people like me. I love cozies. There’s never too much blood or angst over preserving fingerprints or worrying about the police. But by and large, most of the cozies are written for these specialty groups, so you get mysteries about knitting, sewing or being a chaperone on granny’s trips to the Alps. I can’t imagine myself doing any of those things, so it’s hard for me to enjoy the books.
When I sat down to write Bitter Pill, I wanted to write the kind of cozy mystery that I would enjoy. A funny (I hope) main character who always finds herself in trouble, trouble that mainly seems to involve the sheriff and a dead body. She has problems in her life -- a marriage that didn’t work out, a sick mother, a miscarriage, a love interest that’s already married. She’s doing what she can to get by, living her life, trying to do the right thing and also be happy. She is essentially one of “us.” She works and enjoys the freedom of having money, but she’s not obsessed with a career – at least not anymore.
She has a soft heart, always looking to take in the unwanted, whether it’s dogs or children. She has a keen sense of justice (a requirement for a mystery heroine) and seeing the “right” thing happen is important to her, even as she struggles to apply it to her own life (she knows that being in love with a married man is wrong, but she can’t seem to stop it.)
In short (too late!), I wanted Rennie to be someone we would know and recognize, someone we might be friends with, despite her flaws.
So, how to encapsulate that in a selling tool, which is essentially what a query letter is. I’ve been thinking more and more that this sounds like a blend of two different genres, chicklit and cozy mystery. Arrrggh. I was trying so hard not to blur genres this time around – makes a book harder to sell.
The term “Chicklit” is typically applied to stories where the plot or subplot involves a woman becoming more comfortable with herself and her love life, or lack thereof. It doesn’t always end with the woman getting married or even ending up with the guy. It’s more about the trials and tribulations of finding love and loving yourself for who you are instead of who you want to be. I would say that definitely applies to Rennie, though that’s the area that probably needs more fleshing out. The mystery part is self-evident. Dead body plus investigation equals mystery.
So, I can change my query letter to say a “chicklit mystery.” That’s not a problem. But I’m still struggling with how to get across the lack of a niche, like knitting or sewing or baking, and how that’s not a problem but instead an advantage. A way to tap into a hidden segment of the book-buying market. I could describe the readers as modern women who are not interested in the stereotypical female activities. But that's not very catchy at all. Women who are redefining what it means to be a woman -- eh...catchier but a little too ambiguous. I think I'm missing something here. I'm going to have to sit down and think about this some more.
But if you have questions/comments/suggestions, please give them to me. I need them all!!!! : )
And I just want to repeat, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with a good mystery involving knitting, sewing, scrapbooking, etc. It just doesn't work for me. I'm looking to get a book out there that appeals to me and others like me (assuming there are others!)
Also, I won’t likely be posting until next week, so have a very Merry Christmas everyone and safe travel : )
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
New words for the dictionary
First, I want to say thank you to everyone who gave me suggestions on my proposed query letter -- you guys are awesome!
Second, as a word person, I've taken note of a few pseudo-words over the last few months that have fascinated me. Ones that I hope they add to the dictionary, so I can say I was there at the birth of "tivo" as a verb. However, as I started listing all the pseudo-words that I've encountered, I realized that I'm not entirely sure of the exact definition of some of these words. So, if you see one that you know or one that I've got wrong -- let me know. For that matter, what other cool pseudo-words should be added to this list?
Pseudo-words for 2004
snark (verb and noun): I believe this to be a combination of snotty and sarcastic. Television Without Pity, one of my very favorite websites dispenses snark on a regular basis on their recaps of some of my favorite shows. For usage examples of the word "snark," visit their site.
snarky (adjective): As in, "Don't be all snarky about it." See definition of "snark" above.
TiVo (verb): As in, "I didn't watch Desperate Housewives, but I TiVo'd it." The essential part of this is spelling. It's not TiVoed because that just looks weird. And to be correct, you have to cap the V in the middle of the word. Brand-wise, that's the correct way to spell it. And yes, I actually googled it to find out -- incidentally, over two and a half million results to a "tivo" search.
Google (verb): As in, "I googled TiVo to find out the correct spelling." And if you need me to tell you what Google is, I'd suggest looking for different living arrangments -- it must be rather damp and cold for you under that rock. (hey, that could probably be considered "snarky!")
Swiffer (verb): As in, "I Swiffered my floors yesterday because we had tumble weeds of dog hair blowing around the house every time we opened the front door." Swiffer, the ubiquitous household cleaning device, a cross between a broom and a stick with a paper towel on the end.
Asshat (noun): As in, "He's being such an asshat." My friend, Ed, suggests that the etymology of this word can be traced to the idea of having one's head up in one's nether regions. In other words, wearing your ass as a hat. I wondered if had something to do with a typing error for the A-word.
Squicked out or squicky (adjective, I think?): Credit to this word or phrase has to go to Television Without Pity forum posters. It means, I think, being grossed out. Probably a combination of "icky" with something else, I just don't know what. As in, "If I find out that Boone and Shannon on Lost are involved in some kind of Flowers in the Attic brother/sister/incest thing, I'm going to be totally squicked out."
ganked or gakked (verb?): I've seen this on LiveJournal a lot. From context, I take it to mean, taken or stolen. As in, "I ganked this idea from another journal."
meme (noun?): Again, livejournal. I think this typically is some kind of questionnaire type thing (what are your three favorite foods? What are the three things you're most ashamed of? etc.) that we used to pass around as notes in high school but are now posted online in people's journal. They're actually really fun to read because something about being online causes people to be way more honest than they would with you nearby. That, or just the fact that this isn't high school is enough to bring that about : ) As in, "I ganked this meme from another journal."
minty (adjective): I'm guessing this means "fresh," but honestly, I have no clue. I've heard it repeatedly on The O.C. and am desperately afraid that it will slip into my vocabulary without me knowing what it means and therefore not using it correctly. Trees have been described as "minty" on this show, as have clothing and abstract ideas. So, I'm no longer hip to the lingo (ack!)
As in, "Minty sweater, Summer."
Whatever (noun, verb, adjective, who the hell knows?): Used for everything, much like "like." Whatever, said in an even tone, indicates no opinion what so ever on the topic being discussed. "Pizza or steak for dinner?" *Shrug* "Whatever." It can also be used as dismissive retort to something you disagree with. "I don't care what you say. The O.C. does not suck this year." "Whatever" in a clearly dismissive, you're-crazy-but-I'm-not-going-to-bother-going-over-it-with-you-again-crazy-person tone. There's also WhatEVER. The emphasis changes the meaning dramatically. This is usually used in an angry or annoyed way, generally when someone has stated something that you believe to be impossible or a lie. As in, "I do too take out the trash." "WhatEVER. Like once a month. That doesn't count." And yes, I know "whatever" is in the dictionary (just like "dude") but the meanings need to be updated, like now! : )
And of course, the many meanings of dude, which can be used to show sympathy, disbelief, excitement, anger, depending on the tone. "I got fired." "Dude."
And so, in the spirit of all of this, I'd like to propose a new word. Let's use it and see if it catches on. Then we can claim we started the word revolution here, much like the guilty party at a sporting event always trying to get the disinterested people around him to do the wave.
Here's my word: squeamy. It's that hard to define feeling in your chest/stomach area when encountering a situation that is both embarrassing, uncomfortable and possibly slightly gross. When you feel squeamy, you will feel like you should take action but you can't. As in, "I felt all squeamy when I noticed my boss's zipper was down before s/he went up to do his/her presentation, but I couldn't tell him because how awful would it be to let him/her know that I accidentally looked there." It's a combination of squirmy and squeamish.
What do you guys think? : )
Second, as a word person, I've taken note of a few pseudo-words over the last few months that have fascinated me. Ones that I hope they add to the dictionary, so I can say I was there at the birth of "tivo" as a verb. However, as I started listing all the pseudo-words that I've encountered, I realized that I'm not entirely sure of the exact definition of some of these words. So, if you see one that you know or one that I've got wrong -- let me know. For that matter, what other cool pseudo-words should be added to this list?
Pseudo-words for 2004
snark (verb and noun): I believe this to be a combination of snotty and sarcastic. Television Without Pity, one of my very favorite websites dispenses snark on a regular basis on their recaps of some of my favorite shows. For usage examples of the word "snark," visit their site.
snarky (adjective): As in, "Don't be all snarky about it." See definition of "snark" above.
TiVo (verb): As in, "I didn't watch Desperate Housewives, but I TiVo'd it." The essential part of this is spelling. It's not TiVoed because that just looks weird. And to be correct, you have to cap the V in the middle of the word. Brand-wise, that's the correct way to spell it. And yes, I actually googled it to find out -- incidentally, over two and a half million results to a "tivo" search.
Google (verb): As in, "I googled TiVo to find out the correct spelling." And if you need me to tell you what Google is, I'd suggest looking for different living arrangments -- it must be rather damp and cold for you under that rock. (hey, that could probably be considered "snarky!")
Swiffer (verb): As in, "I Swiffered my floors yesterday because we had tumble weeds of dog hair blowing around the house every time we opened the front door." Swiffer, the ubiquitous household cleaning device, a cross between a broom and a stick with a paper towel on the end.
Asshat (noun): As in, "He's being such an asshat." My friend, Ed, suggests that the etymology of this word can be traced to the idea of having one's head up in one's nether regions. In other words, wearing your ass as a hat. I wondered if had something to do with a typing error for the A-word.
Squicked out or squicky (adjective, I think?): Credit to this word or phrase has to go to Television Without Pity forum posters. It means, I think, being grossed out. Probably a combination of "icky" with something else, I just don't know what. As in, "If I find out that Boone and Shannon on Lost are involved in some kind of Flowers in the Attic brother/sister/incest thing, I'm going to be totally squicked out."
ganked or gakked (verb?): I've seen this on LiveJournal a lot. From context, I take it to mean, taken or stolen. As in, "I ganked this idea from another journal."
meme (noun?): Again, livejournal. I think this typically is some kind of questionnaire type thing (what are your three favorite foods? What are the three things you're most ashamed of? etc.) that we used to pass around as notes in high school but are now posted online in people's journal. They're actually really fun to read because something about being online causes people to be way more honest than they would with you nearby. That, or just the fact that this isn't high school is enough to bring that about : ) As in, "I ganked this meme from another journal."
minty (adjective): I'm guessing this means "fresh," but honestly, I have no clue. I've heard it repeatedly on The O.C. and am desperately afraid that it will slip into my vocabulary without me knowing what it means and therefore not using it correctly. Trees have been described as "minty" on this show, as have clothing and abstract ideas. So, I'm no longer hip to the lingo (ack!)
As in, "Minty sweater, Summer."
Whatever (noun, verb, adjective, who the hell knows?): Used for everything, much like "like." Whatever, said in an even tone, indicates no opinion what so ever on the topic being discussed. "Pizza or steak for dinner?" *Shrug* "Whatever." It can also be used as dismissive retort to something you disagree with. "I don't care what you say. The O.C. does not suck this year." "Whatever" in a clearly dismissive, you're-crazy-but-I'm-not-going-to-bother-going-over-it-with-you-again-crazy-person tone. There's also WhatEVER. The emphasis changes the meaning dramatically. This is usually used in an angry or annoyed way, generally when someone has stated something that you believe to be impossible or a lie. As in, "I do too take out the trash." "WhatEVER. Like once a month. That doesn't count." And yes, I know "whatever" is in the dictionary (just like "dude") but the meanings need to be updated, like now! : )
And of course, the many meanings of dude, which can be used to show sympathy, disbelief, excitement, anger, depending on the tone. "I got fired." "Dude."
And so, in the spirit of all of this, I'd like to propose a new word. Let's use it and see if it catches on. Then we can claim we started the word revolution here, much like the guilty party at a sporting event always trying to get the disinterested people around him to do the wave.
Here's my word: squeamy. It's that hard to define feeling in your chest/stomach area when encountering a situation that is both embarrassing, uncomfortable and possibly slightly gross. When you feel squeamy, you will feel like you should take action but you can't. As in, "I felt all squeamy when I noticed my boss's zipper was down before s/he went up to do his/her presentation, but I couldn't tell him because how awful would it be to let him/her know that I accidentally looked there." It's a combination of squirmy and squeamish.
What do you guys think? : )
Monday, December 20, 2004
Frustrating~!!!!!
Okay, I had this whole post written and it was such a fun little story, but blogger ate it. Damnit.
So instead, I'll post this. This is query letter I've been working on for my mystery. What do you think? Is it too much of a slam against traditional cozy mysteries? Would this make youwant to read the book? Let me know. Also, note that I changed some names to protect people who may not want their names plastered all over the internet or my website.
Dear Ms. Jane Doe:
Rennie Harlow is not your typical female cozy sleuth. She doesn’t own a cute little herb shop or a catering business. In fact, she can’t even cook--her idea of a recipe starts with “remove plastic overwrap.” She doesn’t scrapbook, cross-stitch, knit or sew either. Rennie Harlow is a real woman with some real problems.
She’s a former small town girl, trying to get used to simple living again after 11 years in the big city. Her ex-husband (a lawyer who cheated on her with his exotic Puerto Rican paralegal and now wants out of his alimony payment) is a walking clichè. Her mother, with whom Rennie now lives, believes herself to have every disease known to man. She’s falling for her high school crush all over again, except now he’s the local sheriff and married. Oh yeah, and she has an uncanny talent for finding trouble, usually in the form of a dead body.
This time, it’s Doc Hallacy. Rennie finds the pharmacist bludgeoned behind the counter early one morning when she comes in to have yet another of her mother’s prescriptions filled. As the resident starving freelance writer, Rennie takes on the assignment to cover Doc’s death. As Rennie starts to dig into Doc’s life, she discovers that pharmacists know all our dirty secrets, and the question becomes, which one killed him? And will trying to find out get her killed, too?
Ms. XYZ of the XYZ Agency has called me a “solid writer” with “a nice narrative voice.” RuneStone Publishing recently released my first novel, The Silver Spoon, a sci-fi romance, in trade paperback and e-book. I’m currently working on the second book in the Rennie Harlow series (approx. 75,000 words).
I’m including the first page of the manuscript to give you an idea of my writing style. Please let me know if you’re interested in receiving the entire manuscript of Bitter Pill (approx. 55,000 words).
Sincerely,
Stacey Klemstein
So instead, I'll post this. This is query letter I've been working on for my mystery. What do you think? Is it too much of a slam against traditional cozy mysteries? Would this make youwant to read the book? Let me know. Also, note that I changed some names to protect people who may not want their names plastered all over the internet or my website.
Dear Ms. Jane Doe:
Rennie Harlow is not your typical female cozy sleuth. She doesn’t own a cute little herb shop or a catering business. In fact, she can’t even cook--her idea of a recipe starts with “remove plastic overwrap.” She doesn’t scrapbook, cross-stitch, knit or sew either. Rennie Harlow is a real woman with some real problems.
She’s a former small town girl, trying to get used to simple living again after 11 years in the big city. Her ex-husband (a lawyer who cheated on her with his exotic Puerto Rican paralegal and now wants out of his alimony payment) is a walking clichè. Her mother, with whom Rennie now lives, believes herself to have every disease known to man. She’s falling for her high school crush all over again, except now he’s the local sheriff and married. Oh yeah, and she has an uncanny talent for finding trouble, usually in the form of a dead body.
This time, it’s Doc Hallacy. Rennie finds the pharmacist bludgeoned behind the counter early one morning when she comes in to have yet another of her mother’s prescriptions filled. As the resident starving freelance writer, Rennie takes on the assignment to cover Doc’s death. As Rennie starts to dig into Doc’s life, she discovers that pharmacists know all our dirty secrets, and the question becomes, which one killed him? And will trying to find out get her killed, too?
Ms. XYZ of the XYZ Agency has called me a “solid writer” with “a nice narrative voice.” RuneStone Publishing recently released my first novel, The Silver Spoon, a sci-fi romance, in trade paperback and e-book. I’m currently working on the second book in the Rennie Harlow series (approx. 75,000 words).
I’m including the first page of the manuscript to give you an idea of my writing style. Please let me know if you’re interested in receiving the entire manuscript of Bitter Pill (approx. 55,000 words).
Sincerely,
Stacey Klemstein
Thursday, December 16, 2004
We closed the library...
Last night was truly fantastic! There were probably fifteen or twenty people last night to attend the session at the Bloomingdale Library. How exciting! We got some really good discussion going and people asked some very insightful questions.
Can I just tell you that I love doing this? I love talking with people about writing. I also really like being able to share what I've learned, maybe keep people from making the same mistakes I've made, maybe help them reach their dreams just a little bit faster by giving them the information they need instead of them having to go out and search for it themselves. I'm telling you, if I could teach writing (with a class or two on publishing), I'd drop my day job in a heartbeat and do that instead. Unfortunately, they usually want a Master's degree and/or a Ph.D to teach writing at university or community college level. I could probably teach younger kids, but I'm guessing there isn't much budget for creative writing and it would probably come with teaching gym too, or something. Plus, I really want to be able to teach people who are there to learn because they're interested, not required to be there.
Yes, yes, I know. I have a lot of requirements. : )
Thank you to Karen from Bloomingdale Library, who organized and advertised the event. And a huge thank you to everyone who came out last night. The session was originally supposed to end after an hour, but instead, we had such a good thing going, we kept on until the library closed at nine!!!
************************************************************************************
In other news...I, of course, haven't given up on Bitter Pill. But I may be trying something new with it. Stay tuned to see if my plans actually materialize. It will take a lot of work on my part to get this to happen. But it would totally be worth it, if it works...
************************************************************************************
List, in no particular order, of television/movie writers (alive today) that I'd looove to interview and ask pressing writing questions:
1. George Lucas
2. J.J. Abrams -- the genius behind Lost and Alias.
3. Joss Whedon -- Buffy!
4. Rob Thomas -- the creator of Veronica Mars, the best show that most people are not watching (watch it, darn you!)
5. M. Night Shyamalan -- The Sixth Sense, Signs, etc.
6. Barbara Hill -- Joan of Arcadia
7. Jason Katims -- Roswell, but mostly because of one episode that still makes me cry ever time I see it. I can't remember the name of it, but it's the one with Future Max in it.
Okay, who else am I missing? I know I'm missing some cool writers. Let me know. If you don't know the writer's name, that's okay, just send me the show and/or movie.
Can I just tell you that I love doing this? I love talking with people about writing. I also really like being able to share what I've learned, maybe keep people from making the same mistakes I've made, maybe help them reach their dreams just a little bit faster by giving them the information they need instead of them having to go out and search for it themselves. I'm telling you, if I could teach writing (with a class or two on publishing), I'd drop my day job in a heartbeat and do that instead. Unfortunately, they usually want a Master's degree and/or a Ph.D to teach writing at university or community college level. I could probably teach younger kids, but I'm guessing there isn't much budget for creative writing and it would probably come with teaching gym too, or something. Plus, I really want to be able to teach people who are there to learn because they're interested, not required to be there.
Yes, yes, I know. I have a lot of requirements. : )
Thank you to Karen from Bloomingdale Library, who organized and advertised the event. And a huge thank you to everyone who came out last night. The session was originally supposed to end after an hour, but instead, we had such a good thing going, we kept on until the library closed at nine!!!
************************************************************************************
In other news...I, of course, haven't given up on Bitter Pill. But I may be trying something new with it. Stay tuned to see if my plans actually materialize. It will take a lot of work on my part to get this to happen. But it would totally be worth it, if it works...
************************************************************************************
List, in no particular order, of television/movie writers (alive today) that I'd looove to interview and ask pressing writing questions:
1. George Lucas
2. J.J. Abrams -- the genius behind Lost and Alias.
3. Joss Whedon -- Buffy!
4. Rob Thomas -- the creator of Veronica Mars, the best show that most people are not watching (watch it, darn you!)
5. M. Night Shyamalan -- The Sixth Sense, Signs, etc.
6. Barbara Hill -- Joan of Arcadia
7. Jason Katims -- Roswell, but mostly because of one episode that still makes me cry ever time I see it. I can't remember the name of it, but it's the one with Future Max in it.
Okay, who else am I missing? I know I'm missing some cool writers. Let me know. If you don't know the writer's name, that's okay, just send me the show and/or movie.
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Tomorrow...
I'll be at the Bloomingdale Library to talk about writing and publishing at 6:30 p.m. My contact at the library called yesterday to let me know that 25 people are signed up to come -- yea!!! And, oh, so very scary : ( But I'm putting together handouts and having a good old time figuring out all the things that we can talk about. Writing is one of my favorite subjects *grin* It's hard to choose certain topics and leave other things out, so I might take a poll tomorrow and see what people are most interested in hearing.
Here are the details for the program tomorrow, if you're interested:
Write On (the name of my presentation) at 6:30 p.m.
Bloomingdale Public Library
101 Fairfield Way
Bloomingdale, IL 60108 DirectionsPhone (630) 529-3120
************************************************************************************
In other news...two rejections on Bitter Pill. Which sucks. You'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. *sigh* Oh, well. Persistence is key. : )
Here are the details for the program tomorrow, if you're interested:
Write On (the name of my presentation) at 6:30 p.m.
Bloomingdale Public Library
101 Fairfield Way
Bloomingdale, IL 60108 DirectionsPhone (630) 529-3120
************************************************************************************
In other news...two rejections on Bitter Pill. Which sucks. You'd think it would get easier, but it doesn't. *sigh* Oh, well. Persistence is key. : )
Monday, December 13, 2004
Less than two weeks till Christmas...
I don't have my shopping done yet. By "done yet," I mean that I haven't started. Eeek. If I don't do something soon, I might have to actually venture into a real store instead of shopping online as is my preference. Some of it, I think, is just that I'm having trouble getting into the spirit of the season this year. I don't know why. All the holiday plans were worked out with relatively little angst. I'm excited to see everyone, so I know that's not it. I don't know. I just feel kind of blah this year. Which sucks.
Christmas is usually my favorite time of year. People are nicer to one another (except when fighting to get the last whatever-the-popular-gift-is-this-year off the shelf). A woman actually gave me her parking space, a total primo one, at the mall this weekend. She saw me waiting in a line of cars to drive down yet another packed full row of parking, and she smiled at me, gestured at her car. I smiled, nodded and gave her the effusive thank you -- mouthed very widely-- so she wouldn't think I was just singing along to a song or something. Incidentally, I was at the mall -- also known as one of the circles of hell-- this weekend to buy a birthday present, not a Christmas present, in case you wondering if I was lying about not having started shopping yet. I'm not lying, unfortunately.
We had friends and family over on Saturday for a great dinner (NOT cooked by yours truly) and I broke out my traditional Christmas cookies -- the one thing I do actually make from scratch. I hope they had fun -- we had a wonderful time seeing all of them. Our friends and family, I mean, not the cookies. Though, I was happy to see them too. : )
I don't know -- does having children in your home make Christmas more Christmas-y? Most of the time, I'm pretty okay with our two person and two dog household, but Christmas always makes me wish there was a little kid who'd be excited and running around on Christmas morning.
Some of my favorite Christmas memories:
-All of us gathered around the tree, trying to determine the source of the mysterious popping noises emanating from the Christmas tree. The answer turned out to be something very logical; pinecones were reacting to the heat inside the house and opening up. It was not the sound of a light string shorting out and threatening to set the house on fire, as my mother and I were probably prone to believing. She and I are both worse case scenario junkies.
-Swiping un-iced Christmas cookies -- it's a long process over several days to make the cookies and there was usually one night in which the cookies were baked but un-iced and therefore vulnerable to swiping because once they were iced they were stored in a covered tin of some kind. I took a whole bunch of them, the little circle cookies that were actually the pieces of dough that came out of the middle of the wreath cookies, and stored them under my bed. Yuck. What can I say? I was nine and not so much worried about the cleanliness of this particular getaway.
-Walking into the living room, maybe even the same year as the Christmas cookie stealing, to see a Cabbage Patch doll preemie under the tree. Now, you have to understand that at the time, these things were plastic and fabric gold. You couldn't get one in the stores and there was no such thing as the internet yet. Except maybe at Al Gore's house. I'm not even sure I asked for the doll, knowing how impossible it was to get one. I'm unclear about my level of belief in Santa at this point, but at the time, it seemed like he came through for me, despite whatever doubts I had. Yea, Mom and Dad : ) That must suck sometimes that Santa gets all the credit for the gifts you so carefully picked out and worked hard to pay for.
-Going to my Grandma and Grandpa B.'s house. This happened a whole bunch of times. But among my favorites was the year my dad and uncles built this huge snowman in the backyard. It was like nine feet tall, or it seemed like it to me. I was, of course, sick that year. I always get sick around Christmas. So, I wasn't allowed to go out and join the fun, but I remember seeing it from inside the house, from Grandma's kitchen window. I also remember the year that my Grandpa got this game with these two tiny basketball hoops that attached to the table with suction cups. You had to bounce a ping pong ball into the hoop from the opposite end of the table to score points. Again, it was funny to see my uncles and my dad acting like kids, playing games. My grandpa always liked the games too, another reason it was fun. He so clearly got a kick out of playing and watching us play. I miss him a lot all the time, but especially around this time of year.
Okay, now that I have thoroughly saddened myself. I'm going home. : )
Christmas is usually my favorite time of year. People are nicer to one another (except when fighting to get the last whatever-the-popular-gift-is-this-year off the shelf). A woman actually gave me her parking space, a total primo one, at the mall this weekend. She saw me waiting in a line of cars to drive down yet another packed full row of parking, and she smiled at me, gestured at her car. I smiled, nodded and gave her the effusive thank you -- mouthed very widely-- so she wouldn't think I was just singing along to a song or something. Incidentally, I was at the mall -- also known as one of the circles of hell-- this weekend to buy a birthday present, not a Christmas present, in case you wondering if I was lying about not having started shopping yet. I'm not lying, unfortunately.
We had friends and family over on Saturday for a great dinner (NOT cooked by yours truly) and I broke out my traditional Christmas cookies -- the one thing I do actually make from scratch. I hope they had fun -- we had a wonderful time seeing all of them. Our friends and family, I mean, not the cookies. Though, I was happy to see them too. : )
I don't know -- does having children in your home make Christmas more Christmas-y? Most of the time, I'm pretty okay with our two person and two dog household, but Christmas always makes me wish there was a little kid who'd be excited and running around on Christmas morning.
Some of my favorite Christmas memories:
-All of us gathered around the tree, trying to determine the source of the mysterious popping noises emanating from the Christmas tree. The answer turned out to be something very logical; pinecones were reacting to the heat inside the house and opening up. It was not the sound of a light string shorting out and threatening to set the house on fire, as my mother and I were probably prone to believing. She and I are both worse case scenario junkies.
-Swiping un-iced Christmas cookies -- it's a long process over several days to make the cookies and there was usually one night in which the cookies were baked but un-iced and therefore vulnerable to swiping because once they were iced they were stored in a covered tin of some kind. I took a whole bunch of them, the little circle cookies that were actually the pieces of dough that came out of the middle of the wreath cookies, and stored them under my bed. Yuck. What can I say? I was nine and not so much worried about the cleanliness of this particular getaway.
-Walking into the living room, maybe even the same year as the Christmas cookie stealing, to see a Cabbage Patch doll preemie under the tree. Now, you have to understand that at the time, these things were plastic and fabric gold. You couldn't get one in the stores and there was no such thing as the internet yet. Except maybe at Al Gore's house. I'm not even sure I asked for the doll, knowing how impossible it was to get one. I'm unclear about my level of belief in Santa at this point, but at the time, it seemed like he came through for me, despite whatever doubts I had. Yea, Mom and Dad : ) That must suck sometimes that Santa gets all the credit for the gifts you so carefully picked out and worked hard to pay for.
-Going to my Grandma and Grandpa B.'s house. This happened a whole bunch of times. But among my favorites was the year my dad and uncles built this huge snowman in the backyard. It was like nine feet tall, or it seemed like it to me. I was, of course, sick that year. I always get sick around Christmas. So, I wasn't allowed to go out and join the fun, but I remember seeing it from inside the house, from Grandma's kitchen window. I also remember the year that my Grandpa got this game with these two tiny basketball hoops that attached to the table with suction cups. You had to bounce a ping pong ball into the hoop from the opposite end of the table to score points. Again, it was funny to see my uncles and my dad acting like kids, playing games. My grandpa always liked the games too, another reason it was fun. He so clearly got a kick out of playing and watching us play. I miss him a lot all the time, but especially around this time of year.
Okay, now that I have thoroughly saddened myself. I'm going home. : )
Friday, December 10, 2004
Good news!!!
I've been asked to participate on a panel at my very favorite writing conference -- Writers' Institute at the University of Wisconsin-Madison! I'm so excited. I look forward to this conference all year. I learn so much good stuff there every year. Now, I get to be a part of it -- how cool is that?!? The panel I'm on will be made up of conference participants who've gotten published. I think we'll be giving tips on what made the difference between being published and unpublished.
Yea! I can't wait. If anyone out there is looking for a good writers' conference, this is a fabulous one to check out.
Yea! I can't wait. If anyone out there is looking for a good writers' conference, this is a fabulous one to check out.
We have a strange dog...
Actually, we have two strange dogs, but Snowy has taken to doing a very weird thing lately. She has always needed to know where we are in the house. If we're in another room with the door even partially shut, she barges in, just to make sure we're in there and then turns around and goes back to whatever she was doing, usually sleeping.
In the new house, we have a shower with clear glass doors. In the old house, it was a tub with mirrored doors (the mirrors were on the outside, for all the dirty thinkers out there). So, Snostorm has taken to coming in the bathroom and standing outside the shower while we shower. I don't think she's quite got it figured out what goes in there. She knows there's water, but she can see now whoever happens to be showering, and she seems quite baffled by this development. I always imagine the little thoughts in her doggie mind go something like this. "Is she in the glass box again? Why?" Or "There goes Mom again getting in the glass box. She stands in there for a few minutes and then comes out. What's the point of that?"
She just has this quizzical look on her face when she stands there, ears cocked forward, head tilted, like, "What is going on here?" It totally cracks me up.
In the new house, we have a shower with clear glass doors. In the old house, it was a tub with mirrored doors (the mirrors were on the outside, for all the dirty thinkers out there). So, Snostorm has taken to coming in the bathroom and standing outside the shower while we shower. I don't think she's quite got it figured out what goes in there. She knows there's water, but she can see now whoever happens to be showering, and she seems quite baffled by this development. I always imagine the little thoughts in her doggie mind go something like this. "Is she in the glass box again? Why?" Or "There goes Mom again getting in the glass box. She stands in there for a few minutes and then comes out. What's the point of that?"
She just has this quizzical look on her face when she stands there, ears cocked forward, head tilted, like, "What is going on here?" It totally cracks me up.
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
So, I'm actually leaving...
Well, I'm trying to leave. I decided I needed to get out of here at a decent hour tonight. And, of course, I stopped to blog on my way out : ) Probably not a good sign, in terms of leaving in the immediate future. I always start these things with this little idea that I think will only take me a few minutes...forty-five minutes later, I'm still here. Oh, well.
The end of the year is sneaking up on me quickly. I told my publisher that I would try to have a synopsis of Zara Book II by that time. Of course, my editor knows how I am (anal and perfectionistic -- is that a word?) so there's no pressure from her or anything. Which is cool. But I'd really like to meet that goal because if possible, I'd like to have Book II out in 2005, assuming that RuneStone likes what they see in the outline. I have two drafts already done, but now I'm in the difficult stage, or at least the difficult stage for me. Going through the story, making sure it makes sense. Which can also mean second-guessing myself horribly and trying to change things mid-stream. Fun. Plot points remain the same, but pretty much everything between them can be radically different. Frightening, really.
I haven't heard anything on the tentative queries on sent out for Bitter Pill a couple of months ago. I'm trying not to read anything into that : ) Everyone in the publishing business is extremely overwhelmed with the volume of manuscripts and with the holidays approaching, I'm sure it's only getting worse. But still, in this waiting period, your imagination tends to wander toward the extremes.
Some good news...I found out today that someone is giving my books as Christmas presents. How cool is that?!?
Okay, I have to run now. I haven't done any Christmas shopping, and I've only baked one batch of cookies (yes, it is my one claim to the so-called feminine arts, though personally, I think there's nothing sexier than a man who can cook and does so willingly for his wife and family.)
Time to shop! (And bake.)
I find that I'm in need of a new sign-off line. Something that adds a little closure to these otherwise random collections of thoughts that I call a blog..any suggestions?!? I'm not great at coming up with witty little lines for occasions such as this. So, please help!
The end of the year is sneaking up on me quickly. I told my publisher that I would try to have a synopsis of Zara Book II by that time. Of course, my editor knows how I am (anal and perfectionistic -- is that a word?) so there's no pressure from her or anything. Which is cool. But I'd really like to meet that goal because if possible, I'd like to have Book II out in 2005, assuming that RuneStone likes what they see in the outline. I have two drafts already done, but now I'm in the difficult stage, or at least the difficult stage for me. Going through the story, making sure it makes sense. Which can also mean second-guessing myself horribly and trying to change things mid-stream. Fun. Plot points remain the same, but pretty much everything between them can be radically different. Frightening, really.
I haven't heard anything on the tentative queries on sent out for Bitter Pill a couple of months ago. I'm trying not to read anything into that : ) Everyone in the publishing business is extremely overwhelmed with the volume of manuscripts and with the holidays approaching, I'm sure it's only getting worse. But still, in this waiting period, your imagination tends to wander toward the extremes.
Some good news...I found out today that someone is giving my books as Christmas presents. How cool is that?!?
Okay, I have to run now. I haven't done any Christmas shopping, and I've only baked one batch of cookies (yes, it is my one claim to the so-called feminine arts, though personally, I think there's nothing sexier than a man who can cook and does so willingly for his wife and family.)
Time to shop! (And bake.)
I find that I'm in need of a new sign-off line. Something that adds a little closure to these otherwise random collections of thoughts that I call a blog..any suggestions?!? I'm not great at coming up with witty little lines for occasions such as this. So, please help!
Monday, December 06, 2004
It's worse than Hallmark...
My day job is in marketing, so you'd think I'd be more attuned and immune to the way companies use advertising to manipulate emotions. Right. Every single time I hear an OnStar commercial on the radio, I get all teary and choked up. Thank goodness for the OnStar people who will call to check on you if your airbags deploy, send an ambulance for the woman and her children who are trapped inside a crashed car and remotely unlock your doors for you. *sniff*
I swear, if I wasn't so creeped out by the fact that with the GPS component of OnStar someone knows where you are at all times--hello, Big Brother?--I'd totally buy one in my next car.
But I bet those OnStar answering service people have some interesting stories to tell. Not that sappy ones they turn into commercials, but the "I'm a moron and I expect you to help me with something so ridiculous that you should be frightened I have the legal license to operate machinery such as this car" type calls they receive. Or maybe better yet, the same people calling in, over and over, getting to know certain customers without ever meeting them face to face. Think about it. You'll call for directions to a restaurant and later that evening when you call back to tell them you have a flat and need help, the operator asks you how the sushi was. Weird, huh?
I swear, if I wasn't so creeped out by the fact that with the GPS component of OnStar someone knows where you are at all times--hello, Big Brother?--I'd totally buy one in my next car.
But I bet those OnStar answering service people have some interesting stories to tell. Not that sappy ones they turn into commercials, but the "I'm a moron and I expect you to help me with something so ridiculous that you should be frightened I have the legal license to operate machinery such as this car" type calls they receive. Or maybe better yet, the same people calling in, over and over, getting to know certain customers without ever meeting them face to face. Think about it. You'll call for directions to a restaurant and later that evening when you call back to tell them you have a flat and need help, the operator asks you how the sushi was. Weird, huh?
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
The snow is beautiful.
As mentioned in previous posts, I'm not a big fan of winter weather when driving, but I love waking up and seeing a fresh coat of snow over everything. It's a fresh start. Hard to imagine anything bad going on in houses that look so pristine and peaceful.
It was still snowing when I went to bed last night. It was really neat to be able to look out of my windows to see the snow falling in the squares of light that other people's windows were projecting out onto the snow. Like snow falling in front of a spotlight. It made everything all cozy.
This morning, I woke up with the bedroom brighter than normal. We don't have blinds in there yet (which results in a very interesting dilemma when you realize that you've forgotten to bring an important piece of clothing with you into the bathroom before you got undressed and showered) so it's always fairly bright in there, which helps me wake up. But this was fabulous! The reflection of the sun on the snow (it's called albedo-- see, I paid attention in meterology class) creates this marvelous white glow that beams back into the house, lighting everything up. Even on the sunniest of days in summer, the light in the house is not like this. I love it, this pale, white, glow that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It's so cozy.
All the houses in my neighborhood are new, so there aren't a lot of trees or landscaping to get in the way of the snow. All you have are these pale houses (white, light yellow, light blue) blending into the drifts of snow on the ground, their darker roofs covered with snow, so it looks almost like the houses are a product of the snow. Like there's snow here year round and we have created houses to reflect that. Like we live on the ice planet Hoth, which weirdly enough, sounds like it should be a warm planet.
I came downstairs to make some breakfast and found that the snow had blown onto the windows, creating this very cool, hey-we're-snowbound kind of feel to the house. The house is an isolated warm sanctuary, further insulated by this blanket of snow, in this cold, Hoth-like world. The house behind me, a new one with no one living it yet, has this shiny metal pipe sticking off the roof, really bright in the morning sun. This morning it was releasing trails of heated air into the sky, just like a chimney puts out smoke. I'm guessing I have one of the shiny metal pipes on my roof too, something to do with the furnace probably. And I imagine that it's puffing away this morning, making the house look lived in and welcome-y. A sign that people live there and are cozy and warm inside.
Snow is isolating. It makes me feel like we're trapped on some kind of science station on a new planet, an ice planet, the way it wipes out or alters all the familiar sights you're used to seeing. It's both dangerous and beautiful as so many of the most interesting things in life are. It is not a kind and gentle beauty like flowers or new grass. It's beautiful in this cold, callous kind of way. Snow, after all, can kill you, even though it's just this little small thing. It will still be beautiful even if you kill yourself shoveling it or your car slides into a ditch on it. Yet, when we're safe and warm inside, it's all good.
*sigh* I love it when it snows. That's probably the big flaw in my plan to packing our house up and moving us to Hawaii. Not a lot of snow there. But then again, check in with me in a couple of months after we've shoveled out the driveway seventeen times and the roads are so bad that I'm already late for work the next day before I even make it home the previous night. A slight exaggeration...but not much of one, really.
It was still snowing when I went to bed last night. It was really neat to be able to look out of my windows to see the snow falling in the squares of light that other people's windows were projecting out onto the snow. Like snow falling in front of a spotlight. It made everything all cozy.
This morning, I woke up with the bedroom brighter than normal. We don't have blinds in there yet (which results in a very interesting dilemma when you realize that you've forgotten to bring an important piece of clothing with you into the bathroom before you got undressed and showered) so it's always fairly bright in there, which helps me wake up. But this was fabulous! The reflection of the sun on the snow (it's called albedo-- see, I paid attention in meterology class) creates this marvelous white glow that beams back into the house, lighting everything up. Even on the sunniest of days in summer, the light in the house is not like this. I love it, this pale, white, glow that seems to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It's so cozy.
All the houses in my neighborhood are new, so there aren't a lot of trees or landscaping to get in the way of the snow. All you have are these pale houses (white, light yellow, light blue) blending into the drifts of snow on the ground, their darker roofs covered with snow, so it looks almost like the houses are a product of the snow. Like there's snow here year round and we have created houses to reflect that. Like we live on the ice planet Hoth, which weirdly enough, sounds like it should be a warm planet.
I came downstairs to make some breakfast and found that the snow had blown onto the windows, creating this very cool, hey-we're-snowbound kind of feel to the house. The house is an isolated warm sanctuary, further insulated by this blanket of snow, in this cold, Hoth-like world. The house behind me, a new one with no one living it yet, has this shiny metal pipe sticking off the roof, really bright in the morning sun. This morning it was releasing trails of heated air into the sky, just like a chimney puts out smoke. I'm guessing I have one of the shiny metal pipes on my roof too, something to do with the furnace probably. And I imagine that it's puffing away this morning, making the house look lived in and welcome-y. A sign that people live there and are cozy and warm inside.
Snow is isolating. It makes me feel like we're trapped on some kind of science station on a new planet, an ice planet, the way it wipes out or alters all the familiar sights you're used to seeing. It's both dangerous and beautiful as so many of the most interesting things in life are. It is not a kind and gentle beauty like flowers or new grass. It's beautiful in this cold, callous kind of way. Snow, after all, can kill you, even though it's just this little small thing. It will still be beautiful even if you kill yourself shoveling it or your car slides into a ditch on it. Yet, when we're safe and warm inside, it's all good.
*sigh* I love it when it snows. That's probably the big flaw in my plan to packing our house up and moving us to Hawaii. Not a lot of snow there. But then again, check in with me in a couple of months after we've shoveled out the driveway seventeen times and the roads are so bad that I'm already late for work the next day before I even make it home the previous night. A slight exaggeration...but not much of one, really.
Yes, I am a freaking moron...
Actually, I think I'm probably a victim of inertia instead. For whatever reason, when I'm at work, I stay at work, long past when I could reasonably go home. Sometimes it's because there's stuff to do. Sometimes it's just because I know my husband's not home yet and whatever I'm reading on the internet has me hooked enough that I don't want to go home to empty house. How lame is that?!?
Wait, it gets worse.
Yesterday morning, all they could talk about is how it was going to snow last night. Somewhere between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. Now, I'm a late starter at work. I work on my stuff in the morning first, so I don't get into the office very early, which means I stay later to put in the correct amount of time. And yet, yesterday I could have left at 6:00 and beaten the storm. DidI? Oh, no. I found another online blog place and was checking out various entries until ten minutes to seven. Hello, morons, your bus is leaving? (Points to you if you can identify the movie that quote is from!)
I got outside and found out to my great relief that it was only raining outside. I was a little concerned about how the trip home would be in the snow because I now live like 30 miles north of work instead of south and my house is way out in the middle of BFE (does anyone even say that anymore? I remember it from high school and like "dude" it has stuck with me, to my chagrin.) Of course, as you might imagine, as I started heading north, the rain turned into snow and traffic slowed down to a molasses crawl. In fact, the farther north I got, the harder it got to see. It was almost dizzying, the snowflakes were so huge. I kind of felt like I was driving through a starfield. You know, like that one screensaver? It was hard to focus on the road with all the snow catching my attention.
I would be a sucky starship pilot. I'd run myself into a star because I was too busy going ga-ga over the way it looked. That, plus I realized last night, I'm not so good with the multitasking while driving in dangerous conditions. I'm not talking about cell phones or anything, but little things, like turning on the defroster and adjusting the heater while driving and trying not to get mesmerized by the snow. *sigh* Oh well.
Needless to say, I made it home safely, if not quickly, and I'm grateful for that. I got to see Veronica Mars last night, too, just before the snow wiped out our satellite connection. Talk about good timing. : ) I would have been seriously miffed then, no matter how pretty the snow is.
Wait, it gets worse.
Yesterday morning, all they could talk about is how it was going to snow last night. Somewhere between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. Now, I'm a late starter at work. I work on my stuff in the morning first, so I don't get into the office very early, which means I stay later to put in the correct amount of time. And yet, yesterday I could have left at 6:00 and beaten the storm. DidI? Oh, no. I found another online blog place and was checking out various entries until ten minutes to seven. Hello, morons, your bus is leaving? (Points to you if you can identify the movie that quote is from!)
I got outside and found out to my great relief that it was only raining outside. I was a little concerned about how the trip home would be in the snow because I now live like 30 miles north of work instead of south and my house is way out in the middle of BFE (does anyone even say that anymore? I remember it from high school and like "dude" it has stuck with me, to my chagrin.) Of course, as you might imagine, as I started heading north, the rain turned into snow and traffic slowed down to a molasses crawl. In fact, the farther north I got, the harder it got to see. It was almost dizzying, the snowflakes were so huge. I kind of felt like I was driving through a starfield. You know, like that one screensaver? It was hard to focus on the road with all the snow catching my attention.
I would be a sucky starship pilot. I'd run myself into a star because I was too busy going ga-ga over the way it looked. That, plus I realized last night, I'm not so good with the multitasking while driving in dangerous conditions. I'm not talking about cell phones or anything, but little things, like turning on the defroster and adjusting the heater while driving and trying not to get mesmerized by the snow. *sigh* Oh well.
Needless to say, I made it home safely, if not quickly, and I'm grateful for that. I got to see Veronica Mars last night, too, just before the snow wiped out our satellite connection. Talk about good timing. : ) I would have been seriously miffed then, no matter how pretty the snow is.
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