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Archive for June, 2013

No, seriously.  I’m outta here. I’m taking my printed copy of OW to the kitchen to work on a long form synopsis that can be broken down at will into however many pages of  a synopsis is required for net casting on a broad scale.

Any volunteers to crit my query? I’d love you forever.

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nonecares

*mmmmwahahahaha*

 

Yeah, so two months ago I nudged the people by whom I have not yet been rejected and I still haven’t received a response. It’s been eight months since I hit send and I’m starting to wonder if I just missed the rejection email since they didn’t answer my nudge. No news is supposedly good news with this whole thing–they haven’t updated anything on their web site saying it’s over, so it’s not over yet and I just may still be in the running–and life goes on, and blah-blah-blah. I write, I day-job it, I scream, then I wake up and do it all over again. Especially the screaming.

This is happening on Twitter, and more this here. Of course, my crappy luck, two agents I’ve been following because I think we’d gel have requests out that my MS would fit. BUT! My MS is on sub and I’m not supposed to sub anywhere else until they let it go, but they won’t answer my nudge and let me know one way or the other. Would a second nudge be too much? My hands are tied because #etiquette and that makes me want to scream.

What I’d like to know from reading those tweets is what the hell is magical realism, and why there are so few requests for adult books? YA is taking over the world.

*sigh*

I need chocolate.

 

 

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WordPress has blown my mind with all the changes it made, so I’ve forgotten much of what I really wanted to say. We’ll just do a quick run-down, m’kay?

I haven’t blogged in two weeks because I was ill and injured. The injury wasn’t Charlie’s fault, really, but this flare-up did begin with him. I didn’t think he’d be so friendly to an unknown person, so I wasn’t prepared for a fifty-five pound pittie to launch at my hip and shove me sideways in the first ten seconds of knowing him,which flared up my sciatica. Lily-dog usually doesn’t jump on me (just everyone else), but she clocked me pretty hard the same way last week while we were playing catch and *boom*, I was down for the count. I was also coughing my head off and had a fever. Between the two things I was a sick puppy and in a lot of pain. I finally found a great doctor who actually listened to me, helped me, and didn’t  just shove me out the door with sub-par treatment. I was ordered to stay horizontal as often as possible, loaded with painkillers and muscle relaxers, while I also took a long list of steroids, antibiotics, blah-blah, for pleurisy. So, yes, I am much better now, better than I have felt in long time, actually, and you can bet I’m keeping this doc forever.

Being down, research for the new book took a backseat, but I’ll get back on that soon. Soon. Not today because two weeks down means two weeks of house and yard chores need to be caught up, and the hubs is still getting over his bout of tick fever, so the work will take both of us to accomplish. First chore today, I’m off to the laundrymat because my dryer shit-canned. AGAIN. I’m reading Catcher In The Rye, so I’m gonna take that with me for giggles. Plus, there’s all the stuff with our CARS. I’ll get to the car stuff in the future, because that deserves it’s own blog post.

Speaking of the yard, someone stole two of my last three surviving koi and my largest red fan. I say stolen because the only fish missing are the ones worth any amount of cash, while the goldfish we rescued from an abandoned pond are all still there. The last little koi I have is small and blended in with them, so I’m positive it was a human and not a heron. Wankers. When we saw they were gone, all we could do was sigh and shake our heads.

I have not yet been rejected. *Sweet*. Still need to finish a short for an anthology due in a month. *GRR*

Such is the life of an unpublished writer. Lots of day-to-day gets in the way, but, hey! I’m not coughing. That’s a good thing.

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But… were there really only seven clans?  Why did some get to stay behind?

An entire morning spent making some sense out of plot notes and a notebook full of conflicting research just proves I need to hit Cherokee, NC and find out for myself.

Like I’ll complain about finding a mountain.

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George R.R. Martin is my hero–I don’t need to hyperlink him because the whole damned world knows who he is now.

I confess I had never heard of A Song of Ice and Fire before I heard about the HBO show. I know, bad writer, me. ::eyeroll:: Really, we writers only have so much time to read because we’re writing so much, so gimmie a break. I’d never heard of Ken Follett until I saw the mini-series, either–it’s at Redbox now, if anyone is interested. I read outside of my genre, but I spend a bit more time reading within it for obvious reasons, and they’re both outside my genre. Anyway! Watch this video. I love his answer as to why he makes us love his characters, and then kills them. (I smiled as I was reminded of the night my first beta reader for An Ordinary World screamed through her house.) I’m caught up reading Martin to where the current season stands and it takes everything in me not to keep reading. SPOILER ALERT: The Red Wedding did me in. I’d pump out Martin’s bastard snow babies at this point.

The new it-has-a-title-but-I-ain’t-spilling project is slow going because I need a basic outline in my head and I don’t yet have it wrapped up enough to begin. Neither do I have an outline for a short that’s due July 30th. Which is fine! I’ve got this. I was advised to basically just think about them when I have moments to let the spice flow, and that’s what I’ve been doing because that’s what’s always worked for me, but I’ve just been rather busy with puppies and failed adoptions, and a host of other things. Not the least of which is my husband coming down with ehrlichiosis, or tick fever. He’s good, thanks, just worn slap the hell out. We find it odd that we’ve reached our mid forties and neither of us had this when we were kids who played in the woods all the time, pulling off deer ticks on a regular basis, but he gets it now from being in some woods by the river for a few days in a row. Go figure. Oh, and Lily-dog has an ear infection. And I’ve had dentist appointments, plural, and have several more next week. And we have two cars down for the count. And my roof leaks.

I’m tellin ya, I’ve been buried in stuff.

Twitter is confusing the bloody hell out of me because an old tweet about a Backstreet Boys online thingy (don’t judge) ages ago keeps getting favorited. I’m guessing people hit favorite and then unfavorite it or something, because it has only two official favorites and yet has a bunch of people’s pictures there. I only care enough to wonder because I keep getting emails about it from Twitter.

WTF?

WTF?

I have an incredibly full in-box, so anyone wondering where my replies are, they’re coming. I still love you, I promise. I’ve just been swamped. Which reminds me of my new favorite tv show, Swamp Murdershelpful for the Luceverse, not so helpful for the new project. IOW, distracting, like everything else. Yay for the dvr which records things so I can watch them later.

I’d like to get out of my house this weekend, like Leigh Evans did the other day, and let my mind drift into that blissful world where I think I know what I’m doing as a writer and actually make some sense out of the scraps of paper I’ve been carrying around in my purse that contain the plot of you know what and the short.

I’d like to, but it’s ten in the morning and I already need a nap.

Break, recharge, onward.

After I put meds in Lily’s ears.

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No, no one has said that to me today except myself, though I expect the hubs to chime in with something like this quite soon.

Yesterday, I told my friend, Lily, that I was taking the weekend off to “rest.” Make those sarcastic air quotes like really big because I’m obviously not resting this morning. I’m at the flipping computer, reading, and forgetting simple rules of punctuation like whether sarcastic air quotes go on the inside or the outside of the period. Yes, I need a break. Not from writing, but like a vacation that forces me to physically remove myself from this chair/my day-job chair and get away. I honestly cannot for the life of me remember when I last took a real vacation. The last time I had time off from “work,” I was still working my ass off, just not the day job.

(I have not yet been rejected, btw–eight months and counting.)

Well, that vacation won’t be today. Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or… geez, wtf ever.

This morning, I was emailing Lily about her blog post, which led me to see this guy in the comments, which led me to his blog on this, which led me to—>

Escape from Stockholm: An Epic Publishing Saga by Judith Tarr.

As I was reading, I’d jump up and down nodding at one sentence, mutter ‘ohhh, burrrrnnnn’ at another, then be mortally offended by the next. I’m not supposed to be allowed to read articles on writing anymore and this blog/essay reminded me of why. There are too many options in publishing today. I like the path I’ve chosen and I plan on sticking to it, but it all makes my brain hurt. I want to write and be read. Additionally, I’d like to not have my creativity squashed under the weight of my current day-job. Can one, in this new age of publishing, have both? That’s not a lot to ask, is it? Or is it?

Yes, I’m going to take the rest of the day off.

Probably.

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Dog Adoption Failure

Well, damn.

I mentioned somewhere in here that we had a reason for not keeping any of the puppies.

See, here’s the story. The very day my hubs found the puppies, someone asked him if he was interested in adopting a pit bull. “Not with six puppies around.”

Well, six puppies and many tears later, my hubs called the guy and said he wanted to give it a try with Charlie because I missed the puppies so much, and Lily needed a friend as active as she is.

This is Charlie.

Cell phone pic, sorry.

Cell phone pic, sorry.

This is Charlie and Lily getting along…charlie1charlie2

But suddenly, slap out of nowhere… they didn’t.

They were GREAT as long as they were outside or at the dog park, but as soon as Charlie was
in the house and in a position to be possessive of his new humans, he lashed
out. Lily ended up with a cut on her nose and lip. He lunged at my bird’s
cage and didn’t like my outside cat–none of which boded well for him
meeting my inside cat (which he never did) or my yorkie (which he never
did). Charlie went back to his foster home after his day-vist to ours with the advice that he go to a family with no small
kids and no other pets of any kind.

I love my husband for trying. Charlie was a great dog, but he needs to be in a one pet family, and we have a zoo.

Will we try again? Maybe.

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