-I just read The Pleasure Slave by Gena Showalter. Loved it. It's been a long time since I read a pure romance book. I mean, this is paranormal romance--hot guy trapped in a jewelry box for all eternity until he falls in love--but the primary story is about the two people falling in love. Rather than trying to save the world and falling in love or stopping the robbery of some precious artifact and falling in love. I really, really liked it. I thought it was very funny and the characters were well-drawn. So check it out at the above link. This is one of the advantages to library-going. I'm checking out books I probably wouldn't buy because I haven't read the author before, and in doing so, I'm making some great discoveries.
-Sat at my first open house last weekend to help out my husband. As I'm not a real estate agent, I couldn't answer any questions or anything, but that was okay because nobody really came through. It struck me, though, as I sat there, writing and reading on someone else's sofa, how much we trust real estate agents. I mean, seriously, this is someone you only sort of know and you're allowing them to sit in your house unattended and asking them to let in other strangers as well. Weird, when you think about it, right?
-I figured it out this morning. I have only nineteen days of work left at my day job. That doesn't include the four days I'm taking off for RT or Memorial Day. Nineteen. That's it. After almost seven years...I feel both free and terrified at the same time. Stacy G. describes it as just cresting the top of a hill in a roller coaster. You know the ride is about to start and it's going to take your breath away, but you're caught in this almost endless moment of fear and joy and anticipation and...did I mention fear? : )
I've decided that I need to get my little home office area set up. I have one for writing books but I feel like I need a separate area for my corporate stuff, just to help me keep the correct focus at any given time.
-Turned on HBO last night to find myself in the middle of The Wrath of Khan (otherwise known as Star Trek II) and at my very favorite (read with sarcasm) part...where the wiggly bug worms crawl out of Chekov and the other guy's ear. Well, technically, the other guy offs himself before the bug worm crawls out, but I'm fairly certain that's what would have happened. I don't remember if I saw this one in the theater. I kind of doubt it and yet, somehow the creepy bug worms have been in my memories of Star Trek for many, many years. Like before they had movie rental stores. So that baffles me. I'll have to check with my parents.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Still stuck...
But I'm working through it. What's funny is that everytime this happens to me, I inevitably go back to what I already have written to try to figure it out. And there I find clues that my subconscious knew the answer the whole time. That's looking like the case right now.
My problem, not that it will make any sense without reading the book, is backstory. I never work out backstory--at least not all of it--until I need it. Mainly this is because as I get into the story, I learn things that I never could have known in advance. I know the people in the story pretty well, but when it comes to the detail of how person A got into situation B twenty-five years ago...well, I tend to let it ride because who knows if that's going to be important?
I should know by now...It's ALWAYS important. Dangit. I don't know if I subconsciously latch onto the undeveloped part or if it just happens that way by accident, but dude. Seriously. This is exactly what happened with The Silver Spoon. I knew Zara was in danger. I knew Nevan wanted her dead, and it was for personal reasons. But it took me all of Book I (original draft) and most of Book II (original draft) to figure out why it would be a big deal for Zara. Sheesh. Other than wanting to not be dead, obviously.
One of the things I do when writing is assume that every person in the story has a secret. Usually, it's not just any old secret ("I used to love WHAM!") but a secret that has bearing on the story going on or the person's ability to change or grow. Unfortunately, they do not often share these secrets with me ahead of time. Honestly, that's half the fun of the process. Trundling along and someone suddenly saying something like, "By the way, Stacey, you might be interested to know that I once worked for the Secret Service in 1981." Or something. It's cool because normally it's a piece that's been missing all along, I just didn't know it.
Sometimes, though, I only get part of the story. They tell me their secrets but only in a way that benefits them or that glosses over the worst of it. Just as people are prone to do. That makes it harder.
But you know what, even with being stuck (which is frustrating) and even with all the difficulties (one book out, soon to be no publisher), I love this. I feel really lucky to be able to play in this world. It's awesome! : )
My problem, not that it will make any sense without reading the book, is backstory. I never work out backstory--at least not all of it--until I need it. Mainly this is because as I get into the story, I learn things that I never could have known in advance. I know the people in the story pretty well, but when it comes to the detail of how person A got into situation B twenty-five years ago...well, I tend to let it ride because who knows if that's going to be important?
I should know by now...It's ALWAYS important. Dangit. I don't know if I subconsciously latch onto the undeveloped part or if it just happens that way by accident, but dude. Seriously. This is exactly what happened with The Silver Spoon. I knew Zara was in danger. I knew Nevan wanted her dead, and it was for personal reasons. But it took me all of Book I (original draft) and most of Book II (original draft) to figure out why it would be a big deal for Zara. Sheesh. Other than wanting to not be dead, obviously.
One of the things I do when writing is assume that every person in the story has a secret. Usually, it's not just any old secret ("I used to love WHAM!") but a secret that has bearing on the story going on or the person's ability to change or grow. Unfortunately, they do not often share these secrets with me ahead of time. Honestly, that's half the fun of the process. Trundling along and someone suddenly saying something like, "By the way, Stacey, you might be interested to know that I once worked for the Secret Service in 1981." Or something. It's cool because normally it's a piece that's been missing all along, I just didn't know it.
Sometimes, though, I only get part of the story. They tell me their secrets but only in a way that benefits them or that glosses over the worst of it. Just as people are prone to do. That makes it harder.
But you know what, even with being stuck (which is frustrating) and even with all the difficulties (one book out, soon to be no publisher), I love this. I feel really lucky to be able to play in this world. It's awesome! : )
STUCK!
@#$@#%@Q$#%@#$%!@!!!!!!
I have probably about 100 pages to go in the mystery project. I've been really pleased with how it's going so far. Not too many revisions in mind for the 240-some pages I have completed already. But now, as I'm approaching a fairly major confrontation in the story--one that starts the snowball, if you will, rolling down the hill faster and faster until we reach the end--I'm freaking stuck.
I keep reminding myself that this happens to me every time. Almost in this exact same spot every time, too. It's like you have to make sure everything's lined up correctly, otherwise the snowball won't roll or it'll roll down the hill the wrong way. But it's so freaking frustrating!!! I know, I think, what happens after this moment in the story. So, I've been trying to work at it from that angle too. If I know xyz happens later, then that means ABC must happen first. But I know there's only one solution for this, and that' s just to keep thinking and working it through. So, that's what I'll keep doing. But still...*sigh*
On the good news front, there's this:
-Becky D. and her husband are coming to visit this weekend--yea!
-And the Star Trek franchise is not dead! I have to admit, even though there are so many ways this could go horribly wrong, I'm kind of interested to see this new movie. Kirk and Spock were two of my very first tv crushes, even though they were both like fifty already when I was watching them on re-runs and my dad's tapes. It's hard to imagine anyone other than Shatner and Nimoy in these roles, but I think it could be done with careful and thoughtful casting, a la Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi. And prequels aren't always a bad thing, as evidenced by last summer's Batman movie, which I really liked because it was done with thought, care and respect for the franchise. You see a theme developing here?
I'm intrigued to see what J.J. Abrams will do with it, too. I liked the first season of Lost, the first few seasons of Alias and the first couple of seasons of Felicity. I think he could bring some interesting character depth to Kirk and Spock. He seems comfortable mixing action and character development. Plus, it will be interesting to see what happens without the allegedly much-hated Rick Berman (a long-time Star Trek producer) attached to this movie. The only thing I can say for sure is something we learned from the most recent Star Trek outing, Enterprise: Don't Mess with Story Canon!
I have probably about 100 pages to go in the mystery project. I've been really pleased with how it's going so far. Not too many revisions in mind for the 240-some pages I have completed already. But now, as I'm approaching a fairly major confrontation in the story--one that starts the snowball, if you will, rolling down the hill faster and faster until we reach the end--I'm freaking stuck.
I keep reminding myself that this happens to me every time. Almost in this exact same spot every time, too. It's like you have to make sure everything's lined up correctly, otherwise the snowball won't roll or it'll roll down the hill the wrong way. But it's so freaking frustrating!!! I know, I think, what happens after this moment in the story. So, I've been trying to work at it from that angle too. If I know xyz happens later, then that means ABC must happen first. But I know there's only one solution for this, and that' s just to keep thinking and working it through. So, that's what I'll keep doing. But still...*sigh*
On the good news front, there's this:
-Becky D. and her husband are coming to visit this weekend--yea!
-And the Star Trek franchise is not dead! I have to admit, even though there are so many ways this could go horribly wrong, I'm kind of interested to see this new movie. Kirk and Spock were two of my very first tv crushes, even though they were both like fifty already when I was watching them on re-runs and my dad's tapes. It's hard to imagine anyone other than Shatner and Nimoy in these roles, but I think it could be done with careful and thoughtful casting, a la Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan Kenobi. And prequels aren't always a bad thing, as evidenced by last summer's Batman movie, which I really liked because it was done with thought, care and respect for the franchise. You see a theme developing here?
I'm intrigued to see what J.J. Abrams will do with it, too. I liked the first season of Lost, the first few seasons of Alias and the first couple of seasons of Felicity. I think he could bring some interesting character depth to Kirk and Spock. He seems comfortable mixing action and character development. Plus, it will be interesting to see what happens without the allegedly much-hated Rick Berman (a long-time Star Trek producer) attached to this movie. The only thing I can say for sure is something we learned from the most recent Star Trek outing, Enterprise: Don't Mess with Story Canon!
Friday, April 21, 2006
New music!
We're drastically downsizing our anniversary gifts this year--two years ago we "gave" ourselves a trip to Hawaii. This year we have a $15 limit. : ) So, I asked for and received music! It makes my commute so much bearable...for the next five weeks! Plus, I like to create playlists for certain stories and/or scenes.
So here's what I bought (thanks, honey, for the gift card!):
Walking with a Ghost by Tegan and Sara
Where Does the Good Go? by Tegan and Sara
You Wouldn't Like Me by Tegan and Sara
Fix You Up by Tegan and Sara
And We Danced by The Hooters
Love and Memories by O.A.R.
Never Leave Your Heart Alone by Butterfly Boucher
Not Tonight by Tegan and Sara
Life Is Short by Butterfly Boucher
I Won't Be Left by Tegan and Sara
Missionary Man by Annie Lennox
Pretty Vegas by INXS
St. Elmo's Fire by John Parr
Crash into Me by Dave Matthews Band
Bust a Move by Young MC
Your Love by The Outfield ("Josie's on a vacation far away...")
So here's what I bought (thanks, honey, for the gift card!):
Walking with a Ghost by Tegan and Sara
Where Does the Good Go? by Tegan and Sara
You Wouldn't Like Me by Tegan and Sara
Fix You Up by Tegan and Sara
And We Danced by The Hooters
Love and Memories by O.A.R.
Never Leave Your Heart Alone by Butterfly Boucher
Not Tonight by Tegan and Sara
Life Is Short by Butterfly Boucher
I Won't Be Left by Tegan and Sara
Missionary Man by Annie Lennox
Pretty Vegas by INXS
St. Elmo's Fire by John Parr
Crash into Me by Dave Matthews Band
Bust a Move by Young MC
Your Love by The Outfield ("Josie's on a vacation far away...")
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Withdrawal
(Can you tell I just finished a project? All this time on my hands for blogging...which I should be doing all the time anyway. )
It's been almost two months since I bought a book. I know that doesn't sound very long, but sometimes it feels like a long time ago. I used to buy books pretty frequently, at least according to my credit card statement. Today after taking a brief turn around the veranda at work (trust me, it sounds prettier than it is), I came back inside to be greeted with the smell of a bookstore and it set off a great wave of longing. Actually, I should clarify, I was greeted with the smell of fresh Starbucks coffee from the Starbucks kiosk, which I now associate with books thanks to Barnes and Noble and Borders. (What did bookstores smell like before there was coffee? I don't remember. Not new bookstores anyway. Used bookstores and libraries have a distinct scent but very different from the BN and Borders smell.)
Anyway, I just realized how much I miss buying books. The anticipation of a new story. The way the ink and paper smell when you first open it. The smoothness of the pages beneath your fingertips. The way the glue makes little popping noises when you open a new hardcover book. The "full and satisfied" feeling of bringing home my purchases and stacking them in my To Be Read bin, almost as good as having plane tickets and hotel reservations for some wonderful and amazing journey...if I liked traveling, that is.
But alas, this is not to be. At least not as often. I'm attempting to conserve my soon-to-be-limited income by cutting back my spending ahead of time. Most of the time, the books I bought weren't even "keepers." I've had to become very particular about the ones I keep. The others are donated to a library or given away. So economically it's better for me to make do with the library and borrowing from friends. But it's not the same...especially when the library books reek of cigarette smoke. I hate that. How am I supposed to curl up in bed comfortably with that? I'm worried the smell is going to permeate my pajamas and bedding and give me a headache. They should have smoking and non-smoking books. I'm serious about this. Some of them have smelled so badly, I couldn't read them.
Oh, well. Enough bitching about that. On to random stuff...
-Got my hotel confirmation for my stay at RT. Oceanside room, baby! Woohoo!!! Last year in St. Louis, I had a parking lot-side room. : )
-Why, why, why do spammers attempt to fake personal emails to get you to open them? I don't get it. Are there really people out there who think they've forgotten about some friend "Drew" who seems to have mysteriously responded to an email they didn't send about wanting to lose weight?
Okay, I'm done now. : )
It's been almost two months since I bought a book. I know that doesn't sound very long, but sometimes it feels like a long time ago. I used to buy books pretty frequently, at least according to my credit card statement. Today after taking a brief turn around the veranda at work (trust me, it sounds prettier than it is), I came back inside to be greeted with the smell of a bookstore and it set off a great wave of longing. Actually, I should clarify, I was greeted with the smell of fresh Starbucks coffee from the Starbucks kiosk, which I now associate with books thanks to Barnes and Noble and Borders. (What did bookstores smell like before there was coffee? I don't remember. Not new bookstores anyway. Used bookstores and libraries have a distinct scent but very different from the BN and Borders smell.)
Anyway, I just realized how much I miss buying books. The anticipation of a new story. The way the ink and paper smell when you first open it. The smoothness of the pages beneath your fingertips. The way the glue makes little popping noises when you open a new hardcover book. The "full and satisfied" feeling of bringing home my purchases and stacking them in my To Be Read bin, almost as good as having plane tickets and hotel reservations for some wonderful and amazing journey...if I liked traveling, that is.
But alas, this is not to be. At least not as often. I'm attempting to conserve my soon-to-be-limited income by cutting back my spending ahead of time. Most of the time, the books I bought weren't even "keepers." I've had to become very particular about the ones I keep. The others are donated to a library or given away. So economically it's better for me to make do with the library and borrowing from friends. But it's not the same...especially when the library books reek of cigarette smoke. I hate that. How am I supposed to curl up in bed comfortably with that? I'm worried the smell is going to permeate my pajamas and bedding and give me a headache. They should have smoking and non-smoking books. I'm serious about this. Some of them have smelled so badly, I couldn't read them.
Oh, well. Enough bitching about that. On to random stuff...
-Got my hotel confirmation for my stay at RT. Oceanside room, baby! Woohoo!!! Last year in St. Louis, I had a parking lot-side room. : )
-Why, why, why do spammers attempt to fake personal emails to get you to open them? I don't get it. Are there really people out there who think they've forgotten about some friend "Drew" who seems to have mysteriously responded to an email they didn't send about wanting to lose weight?
Okay, I'm done now. : )
Detour
*sigh* I think life is a spiritual journey as much as anything, so I try really hard to make sure I’m making as much progress on that part of things as I am on anything else. Occasionally, I start feeling pretty good about my efforts (which should always cause some kind of alarm to sound). I mean, I’m the daughter of a minister, I attended a Lutheran college and took theology classes, I’m working my way through reading the New Testament (again—I think), and I try very hard to think about other people’s feelings before I speak or act.
Then I go and do something stupid. I hate hurting people’s feelings. I hate doing it even unintentionally. I especially hate when it wasn’t intentional but I realize I could have prevented it.
At our Target store—which is located in utter and total suburbia, we’re talking mini-vans, soccer moms/dads and picket fences around every corner—one of the cashiers is, I believe, a transgendered person (or possibly transsexual, I’m not sure what the distinction is, though I’m sure there is one and I think I’ve even heard it before). I noticed a few weeks ago and yeah, it took me by surprise. First, because my brain kept sending me conflicting signals. Feminine facial features and make-up = woman. Stubble and broad shoulders = man. The nametag was no help because it just said “New Associate” or whatever. Second, because it was TARGET. In the SUBURBS. If the suburbs have any complaint against them, it is that they tend to be too homogenous, not enough texture and contrast from differing religions, ethnicities, etc. This is not to say that suburbs should be this way and that people who are different in some way aren’t welcome, but that usually you find more diversity (of all kinds) the closer you get to the city. And we are very, very far from the city.
I immediately looked away because I was afraid of staring. Then I realized that not looking was probably just as odd as staring, so I tried to act normal and…well, there are very good reason why I’m NOT an actress. All I kept thinking about was the movie Roxanne where Steve Martin plays a version of Cyrano DeBergerac and everyone keeps telling the new guy not to stare at his very long nose, but he does anyway. It’s a very funny scene in the movie, not so much in real life. I wasn’t grossed out or offended or anything, but fascinated and immediately had all kinds of questions (which I, thankfully, did not ask). However, I realize that can be equally offensive in a different way. She (I think that’s correct pronoun and I’m not trying to be funny, I’m just not sure what’s correct) is a human being, not some kind of social experiment to be interviewed. So I did the best I could, smiled politely, tried to make eye contact and thanked her when she handed me my receipt.
However, immediately upon arriving home, I told my husband. Yeah, I know that’s like totally immature and it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. Just sort of shocking. Like opening your back door and finding a dinosaur or something—your temptation is to yell to the neighbors, “Come see this!” (And yes, I know that dinosaurs are not people, the metaphor is not really apt as transgendered people aren’t extinct or particularly dangerous as dinosaurs are or would be…but you get the idea). And this also illustrates what I should have been learning all along—to see her as a person rather than a fascinating variation.
So, you know where this is going. Last night we went to Target again and we ended up (not intentionally—in fact, I would have avoided it if possible just because I knew the potential for something going wrong was high) in her line again. I turned to give my husband the “wide-eyed look of importance” and catch his attention by whispering, “Hey!” I was also trying not to laugh, which is what happens to me when I get into uncomfortable situations. Growing up and getting yelled at by my dad, I would sometimes start laughing just because I couldn’t take the tension anymore.
But that’s where everything went wrong. I shouldn’t have signaled to my husband even though I meant no harm. I’m fascinated by the psychological aspect of it—how hard would it be to feel like you were born in the wrong body (if that’s even the case in this situation, which I’m assuming it is) and to be brave enough to live the life you want instead of the life your body (and society) says you should? But that’s not seeing the person as an individual and with compassion but with fascination and fascination has a sharper edge to it than you might think.
Apparently, my subtle signal was witnessed—though I had my back turned, so it may have in fact been my husband’s face at my signal that gave me away, but either case, MY FAULT—and the cashier was very cold and distant through the transaction. Obviously, I hurt her feelings and the fact that she probably suffers that and worse on a daily basis doesn’t make it better. My husband wasn’t happy with me either as I triggered the whole thing. *sigh*
The dumb thing was, I didn’t even think. It wasn’t like I set out to be a jerk. It just happened. Not that that’s an excuse, but more of a surprise. I have always thought that jerky-acting people set out to behave that way, not that it might have surprised them too.
So what’s the lesson for today for Stacey? This wonderful quote that I’m borrowing from my friend, Tora Pine’s, journal:
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."--Plato
Then I go and do something stupid. I hate hurting people’s feelings. I hate doing it even unintentionally. I especially hate when it wasn’t intentional but I realize I could have prevented it.
At our Target store—which is located in utter and total suburbia, we’re talking mini-vans, soccer moms/dads and picket fences around every corner—one of the cashiers is, I believe, a transgendered person (or possibly transsexual, I’m not sure what the distinction is, though I’m sure there is one and I think I’ve even heard it before). I noticed a few weeks ago and yeah, it took me by surprise. First, because my brain kept sending me conflicting signals. Feminine facial features and make-up = woman. Stubble and broad shoulders = man. The nametag was no help because it just said “New Associate” or whatever. Second, because it was TARGET. In the SUBURBS. If the suburbs have any complaint against them, it is that they tend to be too homogenous, not enough texture and contrast from differing religions, ethnicities, etc. This is not to say that suburbs should be this way and that people who are different in some way aren’t welcome, but that usually you find more diversity (of all kinds) the closer you get to the city. And we are very, very far from the city.
I immediately looked away because I was afraid of staring. Then I realized that not looking was probably just as odd as staring, so I tried to act normal and…well, there are very good reason why I’m NOT an actress. All I kept thinking about was the movie Roxanne where Steve Martin plays a version of Cyrano DeBergerac and everyone keeps telling the new guy not to stare at his very long nose, but he does anyway. It’s a very funny scene in the movie, not so much in real life. I wasn’t grossed out or offended or anything, but fascinated and immediately had all kinds of questions (which I, thankfully, did not ask). However, I realize that can be equally offensive in a different way. She (I think that’s correct pronoun and I’m not trying to be funny, I’m just not sure what’s correct) is a human being, not some kind of social experiment to be interviewed. So I did the best I could, smiled politely, tried to make eye contact and thanked her when she handed me my receipt.
However, immediately upon arriving home, I told my husband. Yeah, I know that’s like totally immature and it shouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was. Just sort of shocking. Like opening your back door and finding a dinosaur or something—your temptation is to yell to the neighbors, “Come see this!” (And yes, I know that dinosaurs are not people, the metaphor is not really apt as transgendered people aren’t extinct or particularly dangerous as dinosaurs are or would be…but you get the idea). And this also illustrates what I should have been learning all along—to see her as a person rather than a fascinating variation.
So, you know where this is going. Last night we went to Target again and we ended up (not intentionally—in fact, I would have avoided it if possible just because I knew the potential for something going wrong was high) in her line again. I turned to give my husband the “wide-eyed look of importance” and catch his attention by whispering, “Hey!” I was also trying not to laugh, which is what happens to me when I get into uncomfortable situations. Growing up and getting yelled at by my dad, I would sometimes start laughing just because I couldn’t take the tension anymore.
But that’s where everything went wrong. I shouldn’t have signaled to my husband even though I meant no harm. I’m fascinated by the psychological aspect of it—how hard would it be to feel like you were born in the wrong body (if that’s even the case in this situation, which I’m assuming it is) and to be brave enough to live the life you want instead of the life your body (and society) says you should? But that’s not seeing the person as an individual and with compassion but with fascination and fascination has a sharper edge to it than you might think.
Apparently, my subtle signal was witnessed—though I had my back turned, so it may have in fact been my husband’s face at my signal that gave me away, but either case, MY FAULT—and the cashier was very cold and distant through the transaction. Obviously, I hurt her feelings and the fact that she probably suffers that and worse on a daily basis doesn’t make it better. My husband wasn’t happy with me either as I triggered the whole thing. *sigh*
The dumb thing was, I didn’t even think. It wasn’t like I set out to be a jerk. It just happened. Not that that’s an excuse, but more of a surprise. I have always thought that jerky-acting people set out to behave that way, not that it might have surprised them too.
So what’s the lesson for today for Stacey? This wonderful quote that I’m borrowing from my friend, Tora Pine’s, journal:
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."--Plato
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Random stuff
-I bought my first Tegan and Sara song--I know, I know, I know--a couple of weeks ago. I love it. Ed recommended them to me probably a year ago and I never got around to looking them up. But I heard this one on Veronica Mars and really liked it so I went out and bought it. Any other songs by them I should have?
-Last night's House...what Foreman said to Cameron at the end. Wow. Not untrue, exactly, but a lot harsher than most people would have put it. Very character-defining moment for both of them, I think. I'm kind of hoping she'll get a little tougher--not that she's afraid to stand up for what she believes in--but it's hard to keep seeing her expecting the best of people and only getting the worst.
-I'm in that weird lull now that I've sent Bitter Pill out. I think Stacy G. is right. I'm happiest, kind of, when I'm running around with my hair on fire. I still have my mystery project going, but I'm making notes on a totally different project now as well. Can't seem to do just one thing at a time. The note making stage is always fun because it's pure potential. You haven't worked out all the things you can't do, due to logistics, story-coherence, character consistency, etc., yet.
All right, I'm leaving before it starts to rain. I forgot my jacket this morning and my umbrella will help...once I get out to the car where I left it. : )
-Last night's House...what Foreman said to Cameron at the end. Wow. Not untrue, exactly, but a lot harsher than most people would have put it. Very character-defining moment for both of them, I think. I'm kind of hoping she'll get a little tougher--not that she's afraid to stand up for what she believes in--but it's hard to keep seeing her expecting the best of people and only getting the worst.
-I'm in that weird lull now that I've sent Bitter Pill out. I think Stacy G. is right. I'm happiest, kind of, when I'm running around with my hair on fire. I still have my mystery project going, but I'm making notes on a totally different project now as well. Can't seem to do just one thing at a time. The note making stage is always fun because it's pure potential. You haven't worked out all the things you can't do, due to logistics, story-coherence, character consistency, etc., yet.
All right, I'm leaving before it starts to rain. I forgot my jacket this morning and my umbrella will help...once I get out to the car where I left it. : )
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Big weekend at the Klemstein household
-I'm an aunt again, as of very early Saturday morning--a nephew, this time! I'm not going to go into details here as they're not my details to share. But it's so exciting and fun. And I'm amazed how quickly I forgot just how little and vulnerable babies are in the first few days. And he's soooo cute!
-I achieved a milestone yesterday writing-wise, too. I sent the first Rennie story, Bitter Pill, to a fellow Chicago author who said she'd read it. If she likes it, she said she'd pass it on to her publisher. Yea! : ) This is a milestone, not just because of FINALLY finishing the last little edits to the story--which have been hanging over my head for well over a year--but also because I've got two unrelated (one is not a sequel to the other) books in "marketable" shape at the same time! For those who are interested, making just minor changes to the story--really just fleshing out the parts that needed it--I managed to add eighteen pages. It's 199 pages right now, just a little under 60,000 words. I'm excited at the possibility of seeing Rennie and Sheriff Bristol in print, so we'll see what happens! I have several other story ideas for them running around in my head and I'd love to have the opportunity to get them down on paper.
-I'm getting ready for RT too. I sent in the info for my gift basket giveaway. If you're attending RT, this is my contribution:
A Hot Night of Alien Love
Curl up on the couch for some out of this world romance! Basket includes The Silver Spoon by Stacey Klemstein, a DVD of the sci-fi romance movie Starman, a t-shirt with The Silver Spoon book cover on it, a Silver Spoon Diner mug, a chocolate coffee spoon, popcorn and Red Hots!
The gift basket will be raffled off, I think, on Thursday, May 18, at 4:30 p.m. Huge thanks to Paula and Jeanine, my fellow writers and partners in crime at work who helped me come up with what to include and what to say (I was a little squeamish about using the word "hot," which shocked both of them considering the love scenes I've written!)
-Cooked my first Easter Ham this weekend. It was slightly traumatic. There was a very funny sit-comish moment early on.
My husband: "So how long does the ham take to cook?"
Me: "It's already cooked, it just needs to be warmed. The tag says ten minutes."
My husband (frowning): That doesn't sound right. How big is it?
Me: "Um, a little under twelve pounds."
My husband (still frowning): "Are you putting it in the microwave?"
Me (with a "don't be ridiculous" tone): "No! It says to use the oven."
My husband: "Are you sure about this?"
Me (with a long-suffering sigh): "Fine. I'll check the tag again."
(I consult the tag again at which point I notice that a sticker has been placed over the bottom half of the tag, obscuring possibly important instructions. Hmmm.)
My husband: "Well, what does it say?"
Me (peeling back sticker to reveal one last line of instructions): "'--per pound. Ten minutes per pound.' [expletive deleted]! Who puts a [expletive deleted] sticker over instructions!?!"
But it was okay. We caught the mistake in time. Unfortunately, even with two hours in the oven and following the almighty tag instructions to the "t," the ham was still lukewarm by the time dinner was served. So, my mother-in-law and father-in-law came to the rescue. We cut into it and removed the pieces we needed for the meal (seriously, only six of us--we don't need almost two pounds of meat per person) and heated them at a higher temp.
Yeah, I know, I should have realized that ten minutes couldn't possibly be long enough, but after the store that was to have prepared everything for the meal in a ready-to-heat fashion screwed up (thus totally shaking the foundation of my faith in Target), I was a little rattled. I was supposed to pick the meal up from them on Saturday evening, but they somehow never got my order and had to scramble around to throw everything together at the last minute and I didn't get the right stuff, which threw all kinds of wrenches into the culinary works.
Two lessons learned here. 1) Don't order big holiday meals over the internet, even if it is from the Target Deli. 2) Remove all extraneous stickers from instruction tags.
-I achieved a milestone yesterday writing-wise, too. I sent the first Rennie story, Bitter Pill, to a fellow Chicago author who said she'd read it. If she likes it, she said she'd pass it on to her publisher. Yea! : ) This is a milestone, not just because of FINALLY finishing the last little edits to the story--which have been hanging over my head for well over a year--but also because I've got two unrelated (one is not a sequel to the other) books in "marketable" shape at the same time! For those who are interested, making just minor changes to the story--really just fleshing out the parts that needed it--I managed to add eighteen pages. It's 199 pages right now, just a little under 60,000 words. I'm excited at the possibility of seeing Rennie and Sheriff Bristol in print, so we'll see what happens! I have several other story ideas for them running around in my head and I'd love to have the opportunity to get them down on paper.
-I'm getting ready for RT too. I sent in the info for my gift basket giveaway. If you're attending RT, this is my contribution:
A Hot Night of Alien Love
Curl up on the couch for some out of this world romance! Basket includes The Silver Spoon by Stacey Klemstein, a DVD of the sci-fi romance movie Starman, a t-shirt with The Silver Spoon book cover on it, a Silver Spoon Diner mug, a chocolate coffee spoon, popcorn and Red Hots!
The gift basket will be raffled off, I think, on Thursday, May 18, at 4:30 p.m. Huge thanks to Paula and Jeanine, my fellow writers and partners in crime at work who helped me come up with what to include and what to say (I was a little squeamish about using the word "hot," which shocked both of them considering the love scenes I've written!)
-Cooked my first Easter Ham this weekend. It was slightly traumatic. There was a very funny sit-comish moment early on.
My husband: "So how long does the ham take to cook?"
Me: "It's already cooked, it just needs to be warmed. The tag says ten minutes."
My husband (frowning): That doesn't sound right. How big is it?
Me: "Um, a little under twelve pounds."
My husband (still frowning): "Are you putting it in the microwave?"
Me (with a "don't be ridiculous" tone): "No! It says to use the oven."
My husband: "Are you sure about this?"
Me (with a long-suffering sigh): "Fine. I'll check the tag again."
(I consult the tag again at which point I notice that a sticker has been placed over the bottom half of the tag, obscuring possibly important instructions. Hmmm.)
My husband: "Well, what does it say?"
Me (peeling back sticker to reveal one last line of instructions): "'--per pound. Ten minutes per pound.' [expletive deleted]! Who puts a [expletive deleted] sticker over instructions!?!"
But it was okay. We caught the mistake in time. Unfortunately, even with two hours in the oven and following the almighty tag instructions to the "t," the ham was still lukewarm by the time dinner was served. So, my mother-in-law and father-in-law came to the rescue. We cut into it and removed the pieces we needed for the meal (seriously, only six of us--we don't need almost two pounds of meat per person) and heated them at a higher temp.
Yeah, I know, I should have realized that ten minutes couldn't possibly be long enough, but after the store that was to have prepared everything for the meal in a ready-to-heat fashion screwed up (thus totally shaking the foundation of my faith in Target), I was a little rattled. I was supposed to pick the meal up from them on Saturday evening, but they somehow never got my order and had to scramble around to throw everything together at the last minute and I didn't get the right stuff, which threw all kinds of wrenches into the culinary works.
Two lessons learned here. 1) Don't order big holiday meals over the internet, even if it is from the Target Deli. 2) Remove all extraneous stickers from instruction tags.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
RT!
I finally made my flight reservations this week for the Daytona Beach Romantic Times Convention, and I'm getting excited about going! It's like my brain has been too occupied with everything else going on to really think about it. Plus, I was stressing over the very indirect flight I'd have to take to get there (from O'Hare to Atlanta, sit for two or three hours, and then get on a plane from Atlanta to Daytona). Ugh.
But now I've got it all worked out--thanks to the generosity of fellow authors who will be sharing a rental car and/or dropping me off at the airport.
I'm really looking forward to seeing everybody that I met last year--particularly Linnea, Bonnie and Isabo--and meeting a few new authors that I've discovered in the year since. Shanna Swendson is going to be there, as is Megan Crane. I'm hoping to meet both of them and gush embarrassingly about how much I love their books. : )
But, as I discovered last year, sometimes it's hard to find people at the convention. There are literally a thousand or more people milling about, and ninety percent of the time, unless you plan ahead and check the author photo on the book jacket, you have no idea what the person you're looking for looks like.
More later!
But now I've got it all worked out--thanks to the generosity of fellow authors who will be sharing a rental car and/or dropping me off at the airport.
I'm really looking forward to seeing everybody that I met last year--particularly Linnea, Bonnie and Isabo--and meeting a few new authors that I've discovered in the year since. Shanna Swendson is going to be there, as is Megan Crane. I'm hoping to meet both of them and gush embarrassingly about how much I love their books. : )
But, as I discovered last year, sometimes it's hard to find people at the convention. There are literally a thousand or more people milling about, and ninety percent of the time, unless you plan ahead and check the author photo on the book jacket, you have no idea what the person you're looking for looks like.
More later!
Veronica Mars and House on the same night!
My thought, as I ran gleefully upstairs to watch both (thank you Tivo as they air against each other), "It's like a smartass-athon on my television!"
Friday, April 07, 2006
This week
-I'm working on revising the first Rennie Harlow story now. I know, I know, I've been saying that for about a year and never getting anywhere. But when presented with the opportunity to send it out as is, I decided to just make a few tweaks, correct some typos, etc. Which has now turned into going through it chapter by chapter and tightening everything, if not out and out rewriting sections. The upside is that I've added about ten pages in length, which was one of my concerns. The downside is it's taking much longer than I ever considered. Probably because I thought I was just going to be "fixing" rather than revising. Oh, well. I'm pleased with how it's going so far. The first three chapters, for example, are much stronger than they were in the original draft. So, now I've just got to keep at it. Becky D. has been of huge assistance in this endeavor, reading each revised chapter and comparing it to the original to reassure me that the chapters are, in fact, getting better and to catch all my inconsistencies (of which there are many).
-Some of the people who've also accepted the severance package at my day job are now leaving. It's weird. I thought it wouldn't bother me because I'm leaving also, but it's still sad.
-Tomorrow I'm at the Indian Trails Public Library in Wheeling from 12:00 to 4:00. Please come by! I'm told there'll be a reporter and photographer from The Daily Herald present. This pretty much guarantees an outfit catastrophe and a bad hair day on my part, but we'll see if I can hold it together. If not, that could be interesting too.
-Shanna Swendson has a terrific entry about focusing on the quality of your story instead of the little stuff (paper clips vs. staples vs. rubberbands vs. nothing at all) when submitting to agents and publishers. It's good advice and I know it to be true. But angsting about such things (which I don't do as often as I used to, believe it or not) provides an illusion of control, and I'm all about that. Constantly reminding myself that I'm sending out my very best and that's all I can do seems to be the only way around it.
-Finally, this is my family history and education at Valpo shining through, but I found this fascinating. I don't know if the Chicago Trib will let you through without registering, so here's a link to a similiar story on CNN.
-Some of the people who've also accepted the severance package at my day job are now leaving. It's weird. I thought it wouldn't bother me because I'm leaving also, but it's still sad.
-Tomorrow I'm at the Indian Trails Public Library in Wheeling from 12:00 to 4:00. Please come by! I'm told there'll be a reporter and photographer from The Daily Herald present. This pretty much guarantees an outfit catastrophe and a bad hair day on my part, but we'll see if I can hold it together. If not, that could be interesting too.
-Shanna Swendson has a terrific entry about focusing on the quality of your story instead of the little stuff (paper clips vs. staples vs. rubberbands vs. nothing at all) when submitting to agents and publishers. It's good advice and I know it to be true. But angsting about such things (which I don't do as often as I used to, believe it or not) provides an illusion of control, and I'm all about that. Constantly reminding myself that I'm sending out my very best and that's all I can do seems to be the only way around it.
-Finally, this is my family history and education at Valpo shining through, but I found this fascinating. I don't know if the Chicago Trib will let you through without registering, so here's a link to a similiar story on CNN.
Reading in order
I haven't purchased a book in over a month. I know that doesn't sound like that long...but trust me, it is. When going over my credit card statements for the accountant, I was pretty shocked to see how often I consoled myself with a visit or twelve to Barnes and Noble or Amazon.com. Needless to say, I cannot afford to be doing that in the future. Plus, most of the time, it wasn't even like I was reading the book immediately when I got home. Usually I bought it just so I would have it when I finally had time to sit down and read, which is not very often these days.
So now I'm relying fairly heavily on borrowed books from friends and library books. The strange part about this is that now my reading is scheduled by date, which hasn't happened pretty much since college. But depending on when the library (or the friend) needs the book back, I have to fit reading into my schedule or return the book without having read it, which always frustrates me. Normally, I'm the type who likes to have a stack of books waiting to be read and pick and choose among them according to my mood. Not so much any more (though I'm looking forward to RT next month--they give away free books there!)
In the last couple of weeks, I've read Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin (seriously, that's actually the name of the book even though that's the title of every parody of a biography) and I just finished Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld last night.
The Jane Austen book was interesting--and don't worry I won't go on too long about it because then people will start to tease me, again, about my obssession--because it revealed a few things I never knew about her or that I probably once knew and had forgotten.
First, not that this is a great shocker, but life back then was not quite as romantic as my mind would like to make it. People sometimes did have great big houses and servants. But women also had ten plus children and died giving birth. Second, Jane's mother was a total hypochondriac in her later years, as Mrs. Bennet is in Pride and Prejudice (and there may be other parents in her other books with such an affliction but I can't remember for certain off the top of my head--I'm in the process of re-reading them now). She would often take to the sofa to lay down after dinner. But Jane, who at that time was already struggling with the disease that would kill her, would push together three chairs and lie down rather than asking her mother to leave the couch. She also refused to take the couch even when her mother wasn't using it because she knew her mother would never again take her rest there because she'd want Jane to have it. That just struck me as sad and kind and also so telling. This woman who could write the sharpest and funniest remarks about people was not petty or cruel in her actions and actually thought of others. It could have gone the other way. And finally, the disease that killed her is speculated to be lymphoma, like Hodgkin's Disease, which I'm pretty sure is treatable in a lot of people these days. She was only 41 when she died. And I cried when I read the description of her death, so slow and painful, and she was completely aware of what was happening to her. I think when you read someone's writing, you get this feeling of knowing them in some way.
Prep also made me cry but for totally different reasons. There are very good reasons why I don't read much literary fiction. I like happy books. No one is ever freaking happy in literary fiction, usually because they aren't happy with themselves to begin with. And when they are, you know it's only fleeting. That being said, I thought this was the best depiction of being awkward in high school and trust me, I know from awkward. I think one reviewer even said something like, "If you're feeling nostaligic for adolescence, this will cure it." And it's true. Good Lord, it was like being back in high school again with a little of early college thrown in (it's set in a boarding school, so some of the things really remind of me of college instead of high school, but it's all uncomfortable). All the anxiety about saying or doing the right thing, trying to control the uncontrollable people and world around you by doing or not doing something, the intensity of that first love--when I finished, I truly felt that skinless vulnerability I remembered from high school/early college. Eek. The author has an amazing ability to recreate reality, I don't know how else to describe it. It's definitely worth reading.
Okay, so I did not set out to write book reviews in here, but oh well.
So now I'm relying fairly heavily on borrowed books from friends and library books. The strange part about this is that now my reading is scheduled by date, which hasn't happened pretty much since college. But depending on when the library (or the friend) needs the book back, I have to fit reading into my schedule or return the book without having read it, which always frustrates me. Normally, I'm the type who likes to have a stack of books waiting to be read and pick and choose among them according to my mood. Not so much any more (though I'm looking forward to RT next month--they give away free books there!)
In the last couple of weeks, I've read Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin (seriously, that's actually the name of the book even though that's the title of every parody of a biography) and I just finished Prep by Curtis Sittenfeld last night.
The Jane Austen book was interesting--and don't worry I won't go on too long about it because then people will start to tease me, again, about my obssession--because it revealed a few things I never knew about her or that I probably once knew and had forgotten.
First, not that this is a great shocker, but life back then was not quite as romantic as my mind would like to make it. People sometimes did have great big houses and servants. But women also had ten plus children and died giving birth. Second, Jane's mother was a total hypochondriac in her later years, as Mrs. Bennet is in Pride and Prejudice (and there may be other parents in her other books with such an affliction but I can't remember for certain off the top of my head--I'm in the process of re-reading them now). She would often take to the sofa to lay down after dinner. But Jane, who at that time was already struggling with the disease that would kill her, would push together three chairs and lie down rather than asking her mother to leave the couch. She also refused to take the couch even when her mother wasn't using it because she knew her mother would never again take her rest there because she'd want Jane to have it. That just struck me as sad and kind and also so telling. This woman who could write the sharpest and funniest remarks about people was not petty or cruel in her actions and actually thought of others. It could have gone the other way. And finally, the disease that killed her is speculated to be lymphoma, like Hodgkin's Disease, which I'm pretty sure is treatable in a lot of people these days. She was only 41 when she died. And I cried when I read the description of her death, so slow and painful, and she was completely aware of what was happening to her. I think when you read someone's writing, you get this feeling of knowing them in some way.
Prep also made me cry but for totally different reasons. There are very good reasons why I don't read much literary fiction. I like happy books. No one is ever freaking happy in literary fiction, usually because they aren't happy with themselves to begin with. And when they are, you know it's only fleeting. That being said, I thought this was the best depiction of being awkward in high school and trust me, I know from awkward. I think one reviewer even said something like, "If you're feeling nostaligic for adolescence, this will cure it." And it's true. Good Lord, it was like being back in high school again with a little of early college thrown in (it's set in a boarding school, so some of the things really remind of me of college instead of high school, but it's all uncomfortable). All the anxiety about saying or doing the right thing, trying to control the uncontrollable people and world around you by doing or not doing something, the intensity of that first love--when I finished, I truly felt that skinless vulnerability I remembered from high school/early college. Eek. The author has an amazing ability to recreate reality, I don't know how else to describe it. It's definitely worth reading.
Okay, so I did not set out to write book reviews in here, but oh well.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Weird
Our email system at work prompts us every few months to change our password. I last changed it in late January/early February, and the system required it again today. Which means...it is, in all likelihood, my very last email password at this company! After six and a half years. Eeek. Don't know why that weirds me out, but it does.
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