Archive for December, 2013

Merry Xmas!

Have no fear, the rejection the other day was out of the blue, but I haven’t neglected the blog due to the sting. We decided to foster a dog.



He’s a about a year old and the biggest pile of mush I’ve met in a good while. Lily is wide open all the time, even at nineteen months, while Beau would rather sleep on the couch. He was pulled from a shelter October 7th, which saved him from losing his life, then went to the rescue until he was well and needed a foster, and I couldn’t resist that face. Bless my husband for saying yes.

Then, too, my emperor tetras decided to have babies, so I’m having to clean out the hundred-gallon fish tank and set up another one to keep the babies from being eaten by our ghost knife.

Then there’s this thing called the holidays. Sheesh.

And still need to consider a two page synopsis and a log line for a submission due in six days. Somehow, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. All things for a reason, right?


This is what I’ll be looking at for at least a few weeks. Could be worse, huh?

Merry Xmas, everyone.


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Well, that backfired quickly.

Sunday, I joked that if the publisher with my MS would sign me for Xmas, I’d never clean my room again.

One year, two months, and five days since I hit send, I finally got the rejection.

For Xmas.



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Last month, my hubs told me I needed to clean my room. I said no, because my desk needs to be like it is in order to finish the current book, and because I’d asked for a bookcase for Xmas. I knew that when I got said bookcase, I would enter a manic Circle of Hell from which there would be a low chance of escape, and I wouldn’t get to write a word until it was over.

Last weekend, he randomly gave me back a bookcase he long ago borrowed for his man cave instead of waiting until after Xmas as I’d planned.


When I say manic Circle of Hell, I mean my head starts spinning and simple things I want to do go tribble and become fifty things; an empty fish tank got moved in here–which means the room it came from had to be put to right, the rest of the house got scrubbed because the amount of killer dust bunnies in here proved that I had to clean all the things in all the rooms, and Amanda, Wiki Anne Rice and Laurel Hamilton so I can make sure all the books are in order on the new shelf and Mom, you can’t put Stephanie Meyer on the same shelf as Anne Rice! (The child was no help on the OCD front. She was right, but she was still no help.)

The dry-clean-only–screw itcomforter set from the attic survived the washing machine at the laundry mat this morning, but my sanity is still in question. The fish tank still needs to be cleaned and set up (like I need another tank running), there’s a stack of boxes behind me that’re taller than I am (or at least, they feel like it, and I have no idea where they came from), my nearly twenty-year-old Interview With The Vampire movie poster fell off the wall, breaking the original frame, and I need curtains and can’t find any the right color or length.

Shoot me in the fucking head if this takes more than one more week to finish.

Dear Publisher who has my MS right now:

If you sign me for Xmas, I promise to never clean my room again.

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