Promises in the dark

Chekhov called it the gun on the wall. Bill Johnson, in his writing craft book, A Story is a Promise, called it just that. When you hang a gun on the wall in Act I, you promise that it will go off sometime before Act III. (And you know, even when I see a literal gun on the wall in a play, and they post that little sign out front: Act III contains simulated gunfire and smoke, I always flinch when its fired.)

Darcy sent me a little scenelet today that I think reinforces one of the promises we made. Actually, I think it opens it up even more. It’s terrific. One of the neat things about this process is getting little presents like that in my inbox.

We’ve also pondered how to show off our guns on the wall. Darcy and I both like subtle. But we’ve discovered that one (or two) person’s subtle is another’s what the hell are you talking about?

So we ponder. We want it organic, natural to the story, not some sort of neon: LOOK HERE! GUN ON WALL! I emailed Darcy the eloquent: Some readers really need a lot of “stuff.” I know we don’t need a lot of “stuff,” but for readers who do, they really need it.

I should write my own craft book. I can call it: Writing Stuff.

Anyway, I think we’ll have our stuff together in the next few weeks. Then maybe I’ll update the blog a bit more (I say that, but watch, I’ll be back tomorrow).

Until then, watch out for guns on the wall–and keep all your stuff together.

That time I TP-ed George Clooney’s house

My (very) short story, TP-ing Casa de Clooney is up on The Long and the Short of It review site as their Thrifty Thursday short story (it will be on that page for a week, then archived).

This is the story that made the honorable mention list in the Women on Writing Flash Fiction contest, the one where they sent me that gi-normous box of stuff as a prize (all consolation gifts should be so grand).

So, thanks to Marianne, Judy, and Michele for giving it a home.

When names and romance novels collide

Borrowing shamelessly from Chris at Book-A-Rama.

Go to the advanced book search on Amazon, type your first name into the Title field, and post the most interesting/amusing cover that shows up.

There were a few tempting titles, like: When Charity Destroys Dignity (I’m sorry) and The Road to Hell: The Ravaging Effects of Foreign Aid and International Charity (Don’t blame me; I haven’t been international for years.)  

But, dude, check it! I’m a romance novel.

Actually, I’m several, mostly (and somewhat predictably) inspirational romance. Bah. How boring. True, there is that Ellora’s Cave book, but … uh … we’re not going there. Not when there’s:

bookcover.jpg

Him: Dang, my sleeve’s all bunched up and I can’t get my arm through. Why is my shirt tucked into my pants?

Her (note barely contained eye roll–that’s not passion, that’s disdain): Gawd, he can’t even dress himself. Sigh. Now where’s my circa 1860’s blow dryer and round hairbrush. My layers need some work.

When I’m a mom, I’ll miss you

I’m blogging today over at The Wet Noodle Posse site, on word of mouth.

Last night, I was writing with Kyra on my lap (something I used to do with Andrew as well). She was busy picking out all the k’s I used, her favorite letter, for obvious reasons. Then, out of the blue, she said, “When I’m a mom, I’ll miss you.”

“Because we won’t live in the same house?” I asked.

She nodded.

“But we’ll visit,” I said.

Kyra agreed, making elaborate plans to live in the house we’re living in now. That way, I’ll always be able to find her.

“You’ll have to tell me how to get to your new house,” she said.

I promised I would.

“When I’m a mom,” she said, “will you be a grandma?”

“I will. And your kids will be my grandchildren.”

She nodded. I wrote and she placed her hands on mine, so we typed together, both thinking about that time when she will be a mom.

And how I’ll miss her.

In which I play catch up

Marianne announced big news this week. Her novel, Isn’t She Liv Leigh, has been accepted for publication with Samhain Publishing. Go on over and give her a belated congratulations if you haven’t already.My article Confessions Of A Contest Junkie: How To Survive-And Thrive-In The Literary Contest Circuit is making a return appearance over at the Long and the Short of It review site. It was originally published in T-Zero a couple of years ago. I’d forgotten they let me get away with such sub-headers as:

  • Is it cold in here, or is it just me?
  • Thank you, sir. May I have another?
  • Here comes the judge
  • Does Size Matter?

As you can probably tell, it’s an in-depth and serious look at the subject.

Yesterday was the Marvelous Miss B’s birthday. We bought a metric ton of Starbursts (on the approved food list) for her to bring in as a treat. I got an email from her teacher last night. She gave each child in her new kindergarten class exactly one (1) Starburst. Not one package of Starbursts, but one, solitary Starburst square.

I was wondering why there were so many left over. Next time, I’m going to have to send her to school with some specific instructions.

Andrew was chowing down on them last night while he did his homework. After a bit, he pushed them away with, “Man, I gotta stop eating those. When the hormones kick in, I’m going to have zits.”

He’s nothing if not astute.

Two chief ways

Two of the chief ways an essayist can prove interesting are, first, by telling readers things they already know in their hearts but have never been able to formulate for themselves; and, second, by telling them things they do not know and perhaps have never even imagined.

~ Joseph Epstein

The writing class I’m taking has that writing quote of the day feature, and this one keeps popping up. Every time I see it, I think. You know, that works for fiction, too.

Conversations with my kids

This past weekend, Andrew discovered Back to the Future. Yes, that Back to the Future with Michael J. Fox. Andrew was so enthralled, he watched the entire trilogy. He liked the first and third one the best. According to him, the second is “a little weird.” Very astute.

 

I was telling him how I first saw the original in the movie theater. At the end, the DeLorean lifts into the air and Doc Brown says, “Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.” Then zoom! Bright headlights and fade to black. I told Andrew the theater erupted into spontaneous applause.

 

He gave me a funny for real? look.

 

“It was the 80s,” I said. “We did stuff like that.”

 

A few days later, after his second viewing of the first movie, he said to me. “You know what, Mommy? I should’ve clapped.”

 

In my pursuit of all things Geek Girl’s Guide revision-related, I spent sometime on the Scrabble website. (Ha. Did you even know there was a Scrabble website?) Through a murky path I can’t quite recall, I ended up on a Hasbro sponsored site that happens to have something I can only refer to as “Fashion Girl” stuff (mainly because I don’t know what it is).

 

Guess who discovered this site with me? Yes, America’s next top model, Miss B. We gave our “best friend” a makeover. Then, we made our own fashion magazine. Kyra called it: Fashion Designs, with the tagline: best fashions in the world by Kyra.

 

She had trouble thinking up a name for the cover model, so we called her “Fashion Girl.” And when you think of it, if we could refer to all fashion models this way, life would be so much simpler.

 

Then we filled in Fashion Girl’s Q&A:

  • Pet? Fashion Girl owns a pet rat named Igloo.

  • Favorite colors? Pink, Purple, Blue

  • Favorite Author?

 

Kyra asked, “What’s an author?”

 

“That’s someone who writes books. So, who is Fashion Girl’s favorite book writer?”

 

Kyra shifted on my lap and smiled up at me. “You.”

 

Ah, it’s true. Admired by rat-loving fashion models everywhere.

More revision brain

Ah, I love the smell of revisions in the morning. Smells like coffee and a brand new scene from Darcy in my inbox. Okay, so maybe it was closer to the noon smell of revisions.

Darcy and I chatted yesterday and that really helps, hashing out what it is we need to do and how we’re going to do it. Of course, sometimes we get stymied, like when we search for the perfect song that would cause a geek girl cheerleader some embarrassment to dance to. We had “the stripper song,” which most people know, if you hum a few bars.

Problem is, you can’t hum a few bars in a manuscript. So we considered:

  • Hot in Herre, by Nelly, and yes it’s spelled that way.
  • I’m Too Sexy (for My Shirt), by Right Said Fred, and yes, that’s a real band. They’re British.
  • Baby Got Back, by Sir Mix-a-Lot, popular, has staying power, but controversial (you don’t say!)

We went with I’m Too Sexy (for My Shirt), since even Andrew knows that one (it’s in one of the Shrek movies). But we’re open to suggestions.

Today, Kyra helped out around the house. She cleaned the bathroom (with a washcloth and water–I don’t give her toxic cleaning supplies). She folded laundry. Sort of. It’s difficult when some of the laundry is bigger than you are. And she gave me a makeover: 

makeover.jpg

You only wished you looked this good and had a little smiley friend in your hair.I’m thinking of using this if/when I need an author photo.

This is my brain on revisions


Your Personality Cluster is Introverted Intuition


You are: Multilayered and complexInspired and driven to achieve your goals

A visionary with a complete life plan

Intuitive enough to understand difficult problems, ideas, and people

What’s Your Personality Cluster?

Revisions are  … happening. Sorry for the delay between postings, but I don’t have a lot to say. I mean, what can you say when your day consists of: well, I stared at this scene for a while, then I deleted the word even. Then I put it back in.

You get the idea. Andrew was up early with me this morning. Actually, he woke up at four! He has a stuffy nose and couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’s on his computer, and in my internet, sucking up bandwidth.

I hope to be back later this weekend with some “witty junk” (to quote one of Darcy’s characters) to say. In the meantime, I will reflect on how multilayered and complex I am.