Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Some Like it Hot
BRANDED by Emma PetersenComing from Cobblestone Press September 22, 2006 Jenny and Ty have known each other most of their lives and have been attracted to each other since they've been old enough to know what attraction meant. A tragedy has bought Jenny back home to Parsons' Pass and into Ty's arms. The heat between them is as hot as ever, but the scars he carries from his parents' relationship and his own failed marriage keep Jenny at bay. When Ty comes close to losing the most important person in his life, he knows it's time to bury the past and fight for their love.Click here for excerpt.
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
In the Pressure Cooker
I think I've been wearing a "kick me" sign lately. Seriously, just because my buns look like a couple of spandex-wrapped soccer balls doesn't mean I'm waiting for your boot. Oi. I went to a Marine College open day and had the girl organizing the simulator tried to skip me in the queue when there wasn't room for everyone- after my kids and I were the second lot to join the queue and thousands came later. We just looked like a soft touch. Then I had the organizers of an on-line group I belong to mistakenly slip me in with the pile of slackers they were sacking as moderators. Me, who always does the job. Hah! Turns out it was just a slip by the overworked organizers but gee, why me? I'm feeling really picked on. Then the neighbors dumped a huge snake-attracting, fire-risk pile of timber next to my fence which is a stone's throw from my door. AND they bought a mini bike which they ride all weekend up and down the piece of driveway that flanks my house. I tell ya, I'm a mild-mannered, peace loving person but I am fast reaching blow point. Ten, nine, eight....
Friday, August 25, 2006
Tagged
1. One book that changed my life:
most of the books by Max Lucado
2. One book that I have read more than once:
The Lord of the Rings- I've read the set so many times and each time the story and writing suck me in. I even read the whole thing out loud from cover to cover to my son. It was our sharing time of an evening and he never wanted me to stop. He also reads it over and over for himself, and though we went to see the movies and even have the films on DVD, both of us prefer to read the book. The language is just so poetic and visual.
3. One book I would want on a deserted island:
the biggest one I could find so I'd have shelter, fire starters and entertainment all in one
4. One book that made me laugh:
any of Evanovich's Stephanie Plum books. That girl blows up more cars and has more junk in her hair than anyone I know. Always makes me giggle.
5. One book that made me cry:
a lot of category books make me cry (laughing) mostly because of the cliches and poor writing
6. One book I wish I'd written:
pretty well any of Jennifer Cruise's later books- hey, what can I say, I'm a sucker for a smart mouth. I like wit.
7. One book I wish had never been written:
I'm glad I wrote all my books, even the first one which needs bulko work before it comes out of the dust bunnies. They each taught me a lot and said something I wanted to say.
8. What I am currently reading:
my composting manual. I just got an aeropost and I'm learning to use it, having mastered the skill of putting it together. Not exactly stimulating reading, but there you have it. Saving the planet, one garden at a time.
9. One book I have been meaning to read:
I'd like to read Nina Bangs' latest release, "Wicked Pleasure"
10. Who's next?:
Heather
most of the books by Max Lucado
2. One book that I have read more than once:
The Lord of the Rings- I've read the set so many times and each time the story and writing suck me in. I even read the whole thing out loud from cover to cover to my son. It was our sharing time of an evening and he never wanted me to stop. He also reads it over and over for himself, and though we went to see the movies and even have the films on DVD, both of us prefer to read the book. The language is just so poetic and visual.
3. One book I would want on a deserted island:
the biggest one I could find so I'd have shelter, fire starters and entertainment all in one
4. One book that made me laugh:
any of Evanovich's Stephanie Plum books. That girl blows up more cars and has more junk in her hair than anyone I know. Always makes me giggle.
5. One book that made me cry:
a lot of category books make me cry (laughing) mostly because of the cliches and poor writing
6. One book I wish I'd written:
pretty well any of Jennifer Cruise's later books- hey, what can I say, I'm a sucker for a smart mouth. I like wit.
7. One book I wish had never been written:
I'm glad I wrote all my books, even the first one which needs bulko work before it comes out of the dust bunnies. They each taught me a lot and said something I wanted to say.
8. What I am currently reading:
my composting manual. I just got an aeropost and I'm learning to use it, having mastered the skill of putting it together. Not exactly stimulating reading, but there you have it. Saving the planet, one garden at a time.
9. One book I have been meaning to read:
I'd like to read Nina Bangs' latest release, "Wicked Pleasure"
10. Who's next?:
Heather
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Mad Cows
Moo-ve over? Is it true that the Crabby Cows have hoofed off for greener pastures? I herd that they had their hairy rumps tanned because someone had a beef with their raw hide crit style. Puh-lease! It's not like they went out snatching scenes from under the writer's pillow. If you don't want to have your weakesses milked, don't shove your M.S. in their dairy-air. It's a sad day when folks ask for the truth, you give it to them, and you're in trouble because it was a different truth that they were seeking. That's really asking for a faceful of pat answers of the cow pat variety.
But the cows are gone, huh? Sad. I guess it was inevitable someone would roast them or a least drive a steak through their heart . Anyone outstanding in their field, as is the usual bovine want, is targetted for the abattoir from the moment they chew their cud in public. Death to rumination, er... ruminants. What I want to know is, if it's a zoo out there as everyone so often claims, why aren't animals protected? Bring back the bull, er.... cows.
But the cows are gone, huh? Sad. I guess it was inevitable someone would roast them or a least drive a steak through their heart . Anyone outstanding in their field, as is the usual bovine want, is targetted for the abattoir from the moment they chew their cud in public. Death to rumination, er... ruminants. What I want to know is, if it's a zoo out there as everyone so often claims, why aren't animals protected? Bring back the bull, er.... cows.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The Spoken Doughnut
Today I'm going to plead Agnes Allen's Law - "Almost anything is easier to get into than out of." How true!
On one of my loops I opened a can of worms with a comment I made about a moral issue close to my heart- a woman's right to choose what happens to her body versus the right of the aborted child. Now anyone who knows me will attest my mouth goes off without thinking about the wisdom of remaining silent sometimes. Just because I have an opinion doesn't mean I should share it. Of course if I was pro-abortion it would be safe and even lauded to share my opinion. Sigh.
Not that I am against women owning their bodies- heck no. But the time to make their choices is when they want to have sex. No contraception is foolproof. Are the risks acceptable? No? Then don't have sex right now. We're not amoebas- we do have a choice. Expecting some innocent baby to pay with its life for you to be able to do whatever you feel like is morally wrong to me, and besides, I think it hurts the women who choose it, too. I don't say these things lightly and there is always the exception/extenuating circumstances etc. I won't judge you if you choose to abort your baby. No one died and made me God. But I would like to say as someone who has studied embryology that these are people not cells. (Unless you are talking morning-after pill- that to me is a judgement call)
As someone who has cared for premature babies I beg you for compassion. Most of us would not accept having a puppy torn to pieces and the bits sucked up so why is it okay for a baby? I once helped save a 32 week abortion. Yes, that is ridiculous and too late to even consider termintation but it happens. Where do you draw the line? We can save babies as young as 23 weeks gestation and that age keeps getting pushed back with technology. These little people are precious. It makes my heart sick to hear others who have never studied these wonders much less seen or cared for them talk about abortion so flippantly. "If I fall pregnant before I'm ready I'll just abort it." Oi. I'd like to take them with me to a birth, then show them on an ultrasound just what they have inside them before they make such choices and statements. At least they should know the seriousness of the choices they make.
But you know, whatever I say it will just label me as a bigot or religious nut or something else derogatory because this view is not the one they want to hear, it is not popular and probably also not PC. Perhaps I should learn to be a word doughnut instead, just spinning round and round, never making a point and with nothing in my heart. At least then I would not offend anyone by disagreeing with their POV.
On one of my loops I opened a can of worms with a comment I made about a moral issue close to my heart- a woman's right to choose what happens to her body versus the right of the aborted child. Now anyone who knows me will attest my mouth goes off without thinking about the wisdom of remaining silent sometimes. Just because I have an opinion doesn't mean I should share it. Of course if I was pro-abortion it would be safe and even lauded to share my opinion. Sigh.
Not that I am against women owning their bodies- heck no. But the time to make their choices is when they want to have sex. No contraception is foolproof. Are the risks acceptable? No? Then don't have sex right now. We're not amoebas- we do have a choice. Expecting some innocent baby to pay with its life for you to be able to do whatever you feel like is morally wrong to me, and besides, I think it hurts the women who choose it, too. I don't say these things lightly and there is always the exception/extenuating circumstances etc. I won't judge you if you choose to abort your baby. No one died and made me God. But I would like to say as someone who has studied embryology that these are people not cells. (Unless you are talking morning-after pill- that to me is a judgement call)
As someone who has cared for premature babies I beg you for compassion. Most of us would not accept having a puppy torn to pieces and the bits sucked up so why is it okay for a baby? I once helped save a 32 week abortion. Yes, that is ridiculous and too late to even consider termintation but it happens. Where do you draw the line? We can save babies as young as 23 weeks gestation and that age keeps getting pushed back with technology. These little people are precious. It makes my heart sick to hear others who have never studied these wonders much less seen or cared for them talk about abortion so flippantly. "If I fall pregnant before I'm ready I'll just abort it." Oi. I'd like to take them with me to a birth, then show them on an ultrasound just what they have inside them before they make such choices and statements. At least they should know the seriousness of the choices they make.
But you know, whatever I say it will just label me as a bigot or religious nut or something else derogatory because this view is not the one they want to hear, it is not popular and probably also not PC. Perhaps I should learn to be a word doughnut instead, just spinning round and round, never making a point and with nothing in my heart. At least then I would not offend anyone by disagreeing with their POV.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Writing Larger Than Life
Today I'm feeling whimsical. Must be all the carpet-shampoo fumes going to my head. But you see, flanking my new front door are two Japanese holly, otherwise known as sky pencils for their tall, thin growing habit.
Their poetic name got me thinking. What must it be like to create your own dark velvet parchment and write across it in stars? Awesome? And what language do those stars speak that universally people from every nation and time look up and are inspired by the beauty written there? What does their writer think about the bad reviews and commentary that give credit for his work to un-manned chance and time? Talk about plagiarism at its worst!
I know I can write words on the sky with a sky writing plane (well, after I rob a few banks to pay for it), but only with as fine a control as a child trying to write with an old fashioned computer mouse. Then my message would linger in the sky for minutes not an eternity. Somehow I don't think people in the future will be looking at the plane english and gasping with awe as they read "Eat at Joe's." Nope. I'm not going to inspire a million poems and proposals. A ticket for air pollution maybe.
I'm looking forward to writing again when all the work and hassle of moving house settle down some, but it will be with computer keys, not sky pencils. Pity. Every time I come through my front door I’ll be reminded of my limitations. If I can capture and preserve a whiff of the greater work happening around me in the stories that I write then I'll be exceedingly fortunate and happy.
Their poetic name got me thinking. What must it be like to create your own dark velvet parchment and write across it in stars? Awesome? And what language do those stars speak that universally people from every nation and time look up and are inspired by the beauty written there? What does their writer think about the bad reviews and commentary that give credit for his work to un-manned chance and time? Talk about plagiarism at its worst!
I know I can write words on the sky with a sky writing plane (well, after I rob a few banks to pay for it), but only with as fine a control as a child trying to write with an old fashioned computer mouse. Then my message would linger in the sky for minutes not an eternity. Somehow I don't think people in the future will be looking at the plane english and gasping with awe as they read "Eat at Joe's." Nope. I'm not going to inspire a million poems and proposals. A ticket for air pollution maybe.
I'm looking forward to writing again when all the work and hassle of moving house settle down some, but it will be with computer keys, not sky pencils. Pity. Every time I come through my front door I’ll be reminded of my limitations. If I can capture and preserve a whiff of the greater work happening around me in the stories that I write then I'll be exceedingly fortunate and happy.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Scrounging
In the last two weeks since I bought my new house I have been scrounging everything from used newspapers to polish my windows with to plants and plant cuttings to get my garden underway. It is humbling to need the help and kindness of others, but need it I do. If I get to the point of sitting on street corners rattling my cup for coins I'll let you know. Why is there never enough- time, money, energy, heck everything? Gee, we are told that Christ came to give us abundant life yet sometimes I feel that I must have misplaced my abundance somewhere.
Then again, abundance could be a relative thing. I look around me. I have more rooms in my house than people living in it, more food in my pantry than we can eat today, more clothes in my wardrobe than I'm likely to wear out this millennia (of course most have shrunk to a size too small since I had kidlets so they are in no danger of ever being worn out.)
Recently, in the middle of moving chaos, my kids and I put together Christmas boxes. Nothing surprising in that, we do it every year. Last year's went to Thailand I think. Anyway, the organizers have a list of things to put in the boxes- everything from soap and toothbrushes, to clothes, hard candies, school supplies, something to love and something to play with. Apparently the box recipients are delighted by a rubber ball or skipping rope, and get excited by toiletries/school stuff and clothes! Can you imagine our kids if that was all they got for Christmas? Sort of puts things into perspective, doesn't it?
So I got to thinking, maybe what I am most short on is gratitude. How much we in Australia and America have and take for granted. (We don't have tanks rumbling down our streets for starters.) Maybe what I should be scrounging for is enough grace to live the way God intended for me, and enough wisdom to make the best of all he gives me. What are you most grateful for?
Then again, abundance could be a relative thing. I look around me. I have more rooms in my house than people living in it, more food in my pantry than we can eat today, more clothes in my wardrobe than I'm likely to wear out this millennia (of course most have shrunk to a size too small since I had kidlets so they are in no danger of ever being worn out.)
Recently, in the middle of moving chaos, my kids and I put together Christmas boxes. Nothing surprising in that, we do it every year. Last year's went to Thailand I think. Anyway, the organizers have a list of things to put in the boxes- everything from soap and toothbrushes, to clothes, hard candies, school supplies, something to love and something to play with. Apparently the box recipients are delighted by a rubber ball or skipping rope, and get excited by toiletries/school stuff and clothes! Can you imagine our kids if that was all they got for Christmas? Sort of puts things into perspective, doesn't it?
So I got to thinking, maybe what I am most short on is gratitude. How much we in Australia and America have and take for granted. (We don't have tanks rumbling down our streets for starters.) Maybe what I should be scrounging for is enough grace to live the way God intended for me, and enough wisdom to make the best of all he gives me. What are you most grateful for?
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Thursday, August 10, 2006
See, my house could be worse. :-)Monday, August 07, 2006
Mail and Fee-mail
This has been quite a week for me. For the enlightenment of those who don't already know, I've just bought a new house. Well, actually it is a very old house with enough dirt left inside its walls that if I trained the hose in through one of the windows I could cause a large enough mudslide to take out Tassie's north end. Why do folks live in such squallor? Gee. It's not like it's African mudbrick or anything interesting. Cleaning up after the last owners is a trial, especially since I left my last house spotless. I hate housework at the best of times. The double dose in one week has my fingers pruny. (And everyone knows that prunes are only good with rice pudding.)
Also this week I had my birthday and turned really old. You know, that secret figure in your head that you consider is an old person. Yeppers. I turned that on Sunday. I spent the day scrubbing, vacuming and siliconing my leaky bathrooms and kitchen. Hey, I had to get the work done before this ancient body decays and slips into total ruin. Parts of me are already heading south, and from Australia that means Antartica. Brrrr!
Anyway, when my family didn't bother with my birthday I presumed no one would. Then one fantastic CP sent me an amazing gift- membership in RWA. You read that right! She believes in me and in my writing that much. Yes, I sobbed. I am blown away and humbled by the generous gesture. I still can't quite believe it and only hope I can live up to the faith she has in me and make her proud. You better believe she's going in the dedication of my first print book. As soon as this horror move is done, I'll make the most of that RWA membership. (as God is my witness) First I'll go for my pro pin and maybe even turn contest whore for a time since I can now enter them freely. Well, free with a lot of entry fees, anyway. Somehow I doubt the house will leave much in my pocket for entry fees, but I'll have to squeeze out dollars for a few at least. And when those contest entries come back full of glowing praise (cough, cough) I intend to be standing at the mailbox to recieve them, ready to be fortified by the outstanding results and gushing comments.
Which brings me to the leading topic of my post. Today an irate mailman beeped outside my door while I was inside half-drowning in cleaning products. Seems I don't have a mailbox and he didn't know where to shove my letters. Given they were bills, I was tempted to tell him where to shove them, but I smiled sweetly and told him I'd have a box up by tomorrow. Another job to keep me from writing this week. I just presumed a house came with a mailbox, same as it has doors and windows. Maybe I've been spoiled. Sigh.
But the whole surprise birthday present and missing mailbox thing got me thinking. How often do we take things for granted, so much so that we don't even look to check they're there. Seems I've made a lot of faulty assumptions. Now I'm finally opening my eyes and seeing things around me more clearly. Just cause you expect something to be there doesn't mean it will be, and just because it seems something is lost, doesn't mean some precious soul won't help you find it again. Not everything is how we think it. Perhaps with my advancing years I am finally gaining new insight. That's almost worth growing old for.
Also this week I had my birthday and turned really old. You know, that secret figure in your head that you consider is an old person. Yeppers. I turned that on Sunday. I spent the day scrubbing, vacuming and siliconing my leaky bathrooms and kitchen. Hey, I had to get the work done before this ancient body decays and slips into total ruin. Parts of me are already heading south, and from Australia that means Antartica. Brrrr!
Anyway, when my family didn't bother with my birthday I presumed no one would. Then one fantastic CP sent me an amazing gift- membership in RWA. You read that right! She believes in me and in my writing that much. Yes, I sobbed. I am blown away and humbled by the generous gesture. I still can't quite believe it and only hope I can live up to the faith she has in me and make her proud. You better believe she's going in the dedication of my first print book. As soon as this horror move is done, I'll make the most of that RWA membership. (as God is my witness) First I'll go for my pro pin and maybe even turn contest whore for a time since I can now enter them freely. Well, free with a lot of entry fees, anyway. Somehow I doubt the house will leave much in my pocket for entry fees, but I'll have to squeeze out dollars for a few at least. And when those contest entries come back full of glowing praise (cough, cough) I intend to be standing at the mailbox to recieve them, ready to be fortified by the outstanding results and gushing comments.
Which brings me to the leading topic of my post. Today an irate mailman beeped outside my door while I was inside half-drowning in cleaning products. Seems I don't have a mailbox and he didn't know where to shove my letters. Given they were bills, I was tempted to tell him where to shove them, but I smiled sweetly and told him I'd have a box up by tomorrow. Another job to keep me from writing this week. I just presumed a house came with a mailbox, same as it has doors and windows. Maybe I've been spoiled. Sigh.
But the whole surprise birthday present and missing mailbox thing got me thinking. How often do we take things for granted, so much so that we don't even look to check they're there. Seems I've made a lot of faulty assumptions. Now I'm finally opening my eyes and seeing things around me more clearly. Just cause you expect something to be there doesn't mean it will be, and just because it seems something is lost, doesn't mean some precious soul won't help you find it again. Not everything is how we think it. Perhaps with my advancing years I am finally gaining new insight. That's almost worth growing old for.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
The Tim Tams Go To
.............Heather! Congratulations! Enjoy the chocolate, girl. Thanks to all who entered. Hope you enjoyed the taster of Brides Maid in Heaven.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Words for Chocolate!
Wanna enter my contest? As promo for my novella Brides Maid in Heaven, currently available for sale at By Grace Publishing, I am giving readers the chance to win these famous Oz choco treats, Tim Tams. Entering is easy. Just read the excerpt and tell me what Janie keeps beside her bed. Email me at mixalns@yahoo.com
Excerpt:
"The wedding's off," Janie blurted as she collapsed onto her bed's floral patchwork quilt. With an Oscar-winning sob and practiced flair, she threw a hand over her forehead.
Katie winced. So this was what someone about to have all her dreams come true looked like. Great. Everyone counted on her to calm Janie down. No easy task. The wedding had been called off a dozen times in the last two weeks, every time the smallest thing went wrong. By the time the day arrived, she'd have ulcers the size and depth of the Marianas Trench.
She chewed her lip and let her gaze wander around her sister's room. Except for the loud, slurping sobs reverberating off the walls, it could be an ad for Brides are Us. Lace stockings, fake orange blossoms, and the traditional blue satin garter formed a pile of hope on a bedside chair. An untidy pile of wedding magazines sprawled across the silky oak dresser, their pages heavily earmarked and promising such tantalising articles as "Make Your Honeymoon Count." Bridal Mathematics 101.
The bride-to-be rolled toward the wall and hid her face under the bedding, her knees stiffly folded under her like a wounded grasshopper. The wailing and gnashing of teeth intensified into master class intensity. Perfect.
Katie resisted rolling her eyes. Instead, she sat beside Janie's pillow and patted her twin's head. "It can't be that bad," she crooned. "Give me another look at your face." She raked Janie's thick brown hair behind one ear.
The crying lessened, as it often did when Janie succeeded in making herself the center of attention. With an indelicate sniff, she lifted her head. Her lips rolled together and her chin dimpled as she struggled not to cry. Her sunburned cheeks glowed like two bright red traffic lights. The rest of her face wasn't much better. Katie sucked in a quick breath. Two days until the fairytale wedding and the bride looked like a broiled lobster. Her Ruby Roses lipstick would match more than her nail polish, but now wasn't the time to say so.
And should you want more, you know where to get it. Buy Brides Maid in Heaven now at- http://bygracepublishing.com/bridesandbouquets06.html
And come get the Tim Tams. Go on. You know you want to. :-) Good luck!
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Prome Ohhhhhhhhhh!
Brides Maid in Heaven isn't selling as well as I'd like, in fact, sales figures made me double over laughing. Hey, it was the only double I got so don't knock it! Why isn't it selling? Good question. Folks who've read it say they loved it. My review was awesome. Um, I haven't let blood yet, maybe that's what everyone is waiting for. Seems the missing link is my promo.
Ahhhh, promo -- lessee -- website, blog, net groups -- check. Interviews, involvement on lists, reader's sites -- check. Gee, maybe I should put my book up in lights over the football stadium? Nah, most of the people I know there don't read. (wink)
The truth is, I hate shoving myself up people's noses. For one thing, it's messy and green has never been my color. And the promo I've read from others is often such guff it makes me cringe. It's burdening our already overfull dumpsites, both the landfill and the hole between our ears. I mean, really, how many books truly are "the best story you'll read all year?" I'm yet to "die laughing", and though some of the "awesome authors" do indeed have me gobsmacked, it is mostly because I wonder who they slept with to get their tripe into print.
I guess author promo is no worse than the advertising promises you read on other products. I'm yet to meet the person who really can put up that "garden shed able to be erected by the average handiman in under an hour." Hah! A qualified builder maybe, and then only if he didn't look at the twice translated instructions. And "so easy a child can put it together" is wrong again, though a child can take most things apart even if they're welded, or maybe that's just my boys.
Nope, can't trust promo/advetising, that's for sure. Forget "lies, damned lies and statistics", we now have "lies, blog rambles and other promo." How is it everyone tells me how well I write yet I sell so few books? I don't get it. I want my work in readers hands, but I don't want to oversell it or lie. I can guarantee you will laugh if you buy my book, but you will not lose weight, get rich in three weeks or attract vast crowds of the opposite sex. Sorry. (However should you find a true way to do these things let me know about it, okay?)
Sigh. Guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I'll always be a bridesmaid, never a bride. I just hope next month brings me a bigger slice of the wedding cake.
Ahhhh, promo -- lessee -- website, blog, net groups -- check. Interviews, involvement on lists, reader's sites -- check. Gee, maybe I should put my book up in lights over the football stadium? Nah, most of the people I know there don't read. (wink)
The truth is, I hate shoving myself up people's noses. For one thing, it's messy and green has never been my color. And the promo I've read from others is often such guff it makes me cringe. It's burdening our already overfull dumpsites, both the landfill and the hole between our ears. I mean, really, how many books truly are "the best story you'll read all year?" I'm yet to "die laughing", and though some of the "awesome authors" do indeed have me gobsmacked, it is mostly because I wonder who they slept with to get their tripe into print.
I guess author promo is no worse than the advertising promises you read on other products. I'm yet to meet the person who really can put up that "garden shed able to be erected by the average handiman in under an hour." Hah! A qualified builder maybe, and then only if he didn't look at the twice translated instructions. And "so easy a child can put it together" is wrong again, though a child can take most things apart even if they're welded, or maybe that's just my boys.
Nope, can't trust promo/advetising, that's for sure. Forget "lies, damned lies and statistics", we now have "lies, blog rambles and other promo." How is it everyone tells me how well I write yet I sell so few books? I don't get it. I want my work in readers hands, but I don't want to oversell it or lie. I can guarantee you will laugh if you buy my book, but you will not lose weight, get rich in three weeks or attract vast crowds of the opposite sex. Sorry. (However should you find a true way to do these things let me know about it, okay?)
Sigh. Guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I'll always be a bridesmaid, never a bride. I just hope next month brings me a bigger slice of the wedding cake.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Spoofing Covers
Snork! You have to admire Longmire's work. Some of these clinch covers beg to be parodied.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Inner Beauty
I am writing another inspy novella for Christmas and my heroine is a slightly dowdy, 52 year old spinster. With a cat. She's a spinster because she's always cared for her sick brother and she's a mother hen type. The thing is, I wonder if readers want to read about women like this? Given the heroine is supposed to be someone the reader wants to be, would a slightly frumpy sweet heart who falls in love for the first time at 52 be appealing?
What I'm trying to say with this story is that love can find anyone, anytime, at any age or stage of life. You are never too old, too old-fashioned, too fat whatever. Am I off course in believing readers will associate with that? I mean, all of us feel unlovable at times for whatever reasons, but love looks at us with different eyes.
So, tell me, am I going senile believing this can work?
What I'm trying to say with this story is that love can find anyone, anytime, at any age or stage of life. You are never too old, too old-fashioned, too fat whatever. Am I off course in believing readers will associate with that? I mean, all of us feel unlovable at times for whatever reasons, but love looks at us with different eyes.
So, tell me, am I going senile believing this can work?
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Babe's Always Write
My friend’s funeral was today. Tony, a beautiful, soft-spoken, kind-hearted man not long married and full of life, at least until cancer cut him down. I feel privileged to have known this man. My kids will miss you, Tony. Your quick laugh, the secret toffees you hid in your pocket and slipped to them in church. The twinkle in your eye. Goodbye, friend, until we meet again.
Death is a reminder to us all that our time here is limited. Make every moment count. Kiss your loved ones and store up memories, for none of us lasts forever.
***
You can shed tears that he is gone ...Or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes ...And pray that he will come back,Or you can open your eyes ...And see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty ...Because you can't see him,Or you can be full of the love ...That you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow ...And live in yesterday,Or you can be happy for tomorrow ...Because of yesterday.
You can remember him ...And only that he is gone,Or you can cherish his memory ...And let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind ...Be empty and turn your back,Or you can do what he would want ...Smile, open your eyes, love, and go on!
~ Author Unknown ~
Death is a reminder to us all that our time here is limited. Make every moment count. Kiss your loved ones and store up memories, for none of us lasts forever.
***
You can shed tears that he is gone ...Or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes ...And pray that he will come back,Or you can open your eyes ...And see all that he has left.
Your heart can be empty ...Because you can't see him,Or you can be full of the love ...That you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow ...And live in yesterday,Or you can be happy for tomorrow ...Because of yesterday.
You can remember him ...And only that he is gone,Or you can cherish his memory ...And let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind ...Be empty and turn your back,Or you can do what he would want ...Smile, open your eyes, love, and go on!
~ Author Unknown ~
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite
Happy Bastille Day, celebrating the death of the French king in 1789. (Nice when folks are so happy that you're dead that they set up an annual holiday to enjoy it!) That massacre started three and a half years of bloody anarchy for the French people, a lesson we can all learn from. Be warned, be afraid, and well ... um, don't kill the king. Especially the Babe King. (Are you listening out there in Reviewer-land?)
I love the French slogan -- Liberty, Egality, and Fraternity. (Patriotism meets Madison Avenue) May all writers embrace these noble tennets. Be free, equal and bonded. Hang on a sec! Does that mean I work for nothing, using an Equal sugar substitute in my coffee and have my butt glued to the seat. Darn! Well, have a happy holiday anyway, and don't take crepe from anyone.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Currantly
Forget triffids. Blackcurrants are taking over my world. Hmm, or it could be my procrastination catching up with me. The Christmas eve before last I shattered my leg and well, learning to walk again took priority for a time. My soft fruits came and went in season without my ever-loving presence in the orchard. Some withered on the vine. Some I bribed my son to pick, but given how difficult it was to cook them hobbling around on crutches in my multi-level kitchen , mostly the fruit got frozen in bags for me to deal with later.
Roll forward eighteen months. I now have no excuse for those currants to be patiently waiting in my freezer, but somehow there always seems to be more to do than the time to do it. The currants currently glare accusingly everytime I open the freezer door. (A good excuse to eat take-out I say!)
Except I just sold my house. Oh no! I have to defrost my industrial-size freezer ready for removal. (And yes, that freezer was my initial mistake. Smaller freezers mean you can't put stuff off so long.) Not one, not two, but four ecconomy size tubs of currants are still clattering their nails waiting for me to attend to them. Yikes!
So, today I made two full recipes of jam, one large pot of blackcurrant flummery, and with all that I have ALMOST emptied one tub. Never again. This is right up there with the seven thousand pots of stewed rhubarb and apple that filled the other shelves of my freezer. What was I thinking? Of opening a men's shelter? Or a pie shop? Of becoming the next Sweedy Todd?
So I need more sugar and I need the kids to eat up all this food. They're starting to look purplish black from eating currants, and I swear, SWEAR, I will never put off 2 seasons of fruit again. Of course, the fact the new home we're moving into doesn't have currant bushes in should help.
Roll forward eighteen months. I now have no excuse for those currants to be patiently waiting in my freezer, but somehow there always seems to be more to do than the time to do it. The currants currently glare accusingly everytime I open the freezer door. (A good excuse to eat take-out I say!)
Except I just sold my house. Oh no! I have to defrost my industrial-size freezer ready for removal. (And yes, that freezer was my initial mistake. Smaller freezers mean you can't put stuff off so long.) Not one, not two, but four ecconomy size tubs of currants are still clattering their nails waiting for me to attend to them. Yikes!
So, today I made two full recipes of jam, one large pot of blackcurrant flummery, and with all that I have ALMOST emptied one tub. Never again. This is right up there with the seven thousand pots of stewed rhubarb and apple that filled the other shelves of my freezer. What was I thinking? Of opening a men's shelter? Or a pie shop? Of becoming the next Sweedy Todd?
So I need more sugar and I need the kids to eat up all this food. They're starting to look purplish black from eating currants, and I swear, SWEAR, I will never put off 2 seasons of fruit again. Of course, the fact the new home we're moving into doesn't have currant bushes in should help.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Now if this isn't a sweet little way to promo, you tell me what is. Here's the deal. You put the above image on your blog, email Stacy at stacy@stacydawn.com and tell her Babe sent you and we go in the draw for all kinds of cool prizes(Two winners will receive a copy of her story plus a promo pack.) What you waiting for? This ends as of 17th of July, so hurry!
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