With my day job as page designer, I had the skills necessary to create this:
Voting continues through Oct. 11. Click for the link to my entry.
I also decided to set up a Facebook Author Page. It’s high time to separate my three FB identities. I’m looking at it as a smart career move, not another time-suck that’ll keep me from writing.
You can like my page here.
Every year (at least for the last few years), the folks at Harlequin sponsor a contest called So You Think You can Write.
Well, this year, I decided to enter. Yes, I think I can write — I just need to find enough people agree with me.
That’s where you come in. You can find the full text of the SYTYCW2012 contest rules here, but here’s a brief rundown:
Public voting begins Oct. 2 and continues through Oct. 11. The 25 submissions with the most votes, along with three “wild card” submissions chosen by the judges, advance to the next round, in which they submit their full MS to the judges’ panel, who evaluate voice, content and writing skills. The top three manuscripts will be put back to another public vote.
You can vote once a day, Oct. 2 – 11.
I’d love it if you’d vote for my entry, OPERATION SNAG MIKE BRAD.
Don’t worry: I’ll tweet/Facebook plenty of reminders. How many is too many before y’all relegate me to the “spam” folder?
P.S.: My awesome CP, Jennifer Faye, has also entered SYTYCW2012. If you don’t like my entry, cast your vote for her.
With Sept. 30-Oct. 6 being Banned Books Week, I want to go on the record: People — of all ages — should be able to read what they want. Yes, even those poorly written “Fifty Shades” books, if that’s what keeps them turning the pages.
It’s not so important what they read, just as long as they’re reading. Of course I’d like them to read well-written, expertly crafted tales (like mine!). But what matters is that they’re engrossed in something that allows them to escape their reality, exposes them to new ideas or just plain entertains them and keeps them out of trouble.
Besides, even the classics have their critics — a reality that not only baffles me, but riles me up and honks me off. We write because we have stories we need to share. Who is someone else to say, “Your story offends me so no one should have the chance to read it”?
Among the wealth of information on the American Library Association’s Banned Books Week website is this list of banned or challenged classics.
I’ve organized them into categories: Books I’ve read, books I want to read, books I have no interest in and ones I’ve never even heard of. (Thank goodness only a few of them ended up on that list!)
No matter where they fall on my list, try to imagine what our lives would be without them.
Read (many for a class, some for “fun,” when I had time for that kind of thing)
Want to read (if I ever have time)
Sorry, not interested
Never heard of it (showing my ignorance, I’m sure)
Wow. Long time, no blog, eh? It’s been too long since I jumped into Six Sentence Sunday, so here goes.
When last we left Dave and Melinda, they’d just started making out. Terrible place to leave the poor dears, I know. These six sentences pick up several days later. Dave’s on the road with his team, still stewing over Mel’s attack on his character. Telling him she’d kept their daughter a secret because he didn’t strike her as father material. Hmph.
Dave reassumed his batting stance, ready to take another swing.
Matt stopped him by dropping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve hit enough.”
Three hours at the batting cage wasn’t nearly long enough. He wanted to keep smacking balls around until he no longer saw the doubt in Mel’s big, green eyes … until he forgot the mother of his child had so little faith in him. If she doubted his skills as much as he doubted himself, he didn’t stand a chance of succeeding.
Is it wrong that I can remember which desserts I ate on which days while I was at RWA’s National Conference in Anaheim?
No kidding. The days all run together in terms of who I met/spoke to, which workshops I attended and who I hung out with — but the memory of each sweet consumed is as clear as the sparkling, turquoise pool I enjoyed watching from the balcony of my hotel room.
I have a problem, no?
On Tuesday, it was a red velvet cupcake from a stand in Downtown Disney. The cupcakes don’t look like much in my photo, taken in the dark after we piled them all up on the sidewalk. Bad photo aside, mine was to die for, piled high with yummy frosting. Good thing I waited until I got back to my room to eat it, because the shot of pure sugar knocked me out. (At least we went on an adventurous quest — on foot — to find the cupcakes.)
Wednesday after lunch at TGN retreat, I had two small lemon squares and a salted caramel brownie pop — and then got a slice of banana cream cheesecake to go after dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. (I did manage to leave most of it in the fridge overnight, eating just enough to polish off the banana slices so they wouldn’t turn brown and gross.)
Thursday’s luncheon dessert, some kind of flan, was tasteless enough that I took one bite and pushed the plate away … then headed to my room before the afternoon sessions to retrieve my leftover cheesecake. After a lovely dinner with some of my Starcatchers sisters at Carolina’s Italian restaurant, I took home a piece of tiramisu for later. Since it was as big as my head, it served as a sweet treat on both Friday night and Saturday afternoon. (And it was delicious!)
Let’s not forget the chocolate-raspberry dessert from Friday’s lunch. That was like fudge on a plate. Yum!
That’s not to mention countless pieces of chocolate and other goodies I picked up in various conference venues.
I didn’t need the sweets, and had I been home, doing Atkins properly, I wouldn’t have even looked twice at them. But seeing as how I was on vacation and “off plan,” I just could not stop treating myself. And the more junk I ate, the more I craved. Even on the way home Sunday, I got a burrito and fries from Del Taco and then a mint chocolate chip shake from the truck stop DQ at our next bathroom break.
I wish I didn’t have such a love affair with sweets, but I do.
You’ve heard of gateway drugs? Well, for me, sugar is a gateway food … eat it, and I start making all kinds of unhealthy choices (like ignoring the workout clothes I’d packed in favor of a Starbucks ultimate oatmeal cookie for breakfast. Yep. I did that on Saturday. And then I devoured at least four different sweets on sticks at the awards ceremony.).
Conference is a once-a-year experience, and logically I know eating like that for most of a week won’t make me regain all the weight I’ve lost. I also realize that if I don’t get back on track — and soon, I’ll slide back down that slippery slope and end up right back where I started. Not somewhere I want — or need — to be.
So here I am, promising myself to hit the grocery store and stock up on good, healthy fruits and veggies so I’ll be free to buckle down and fulfill the agent/editor requests I snagged.
Pardon me if I still sound a little starstruck. It’s because I am. I had the chance to meet Susan Elizabeth Phillips at a book signing in Phoenix on Monday night — and it was glorious.
She’s on tour for her newest book, “The Great Escape,” and she made a stop in the Valley … at Tempe’s Changing Hands Bookstore, to be exact. When I got there, about five minutes before the event was scheduled to start, it was standing-room-only. Lucky for me, the Boyfriend scrounged up some extra chairs.
I believe Susan started off her talk by telling us her introduction as “fabulous” and “hilarious” was completely untrue. But she’s wrong. I think both adjectives apply. So did the rest of the crowd, if the belly laughs are any indication.
As I listened to her spiel, I got the feeling she’s a pantster, like me. She confirmed it when she signed my book. She also said she’s going to be doing a plotting workshop at Nationals. I know where I’ll be for that hour. (I just hope it’s not at the same time as my editor/agent appointments. That would suck, big-time.)
She’s definitely an inspiration, and I’m glad I had the chance to go. Normally, I’d be working on a Monday night, but this is Week One of my two-week vacation, which culminates with Nationals.
Even the Boyfriend said Susan was quite funny. I figured he’d go hang out at the bar next door, but he stayed and listened to the talk. (He didn’t want to spend money.)
As we walked out of the bookstore, he said, “I could see you doing that.”
Me? Captivate a crowd? I don’t know about that. Not that I wouldn’t love to, of course.
From his mouth to God’s ears. I’d be blessed if I could have a writing career even half as successful as Susan’s.
Wow. I can’t believe it’s just two weeks until I’ll be in Anaheim for RWA Nationals.
The planning/packing frenzy has begun, but I have to say, I’m much more relaxed going into this year’s conference. I’m all signed up for editor/agent pitch appointments and I volunteered to usher at the Rita/GH awards ceremony — but so much of the pressure is off.
I can just go, socialize and soak up all the information I can. I can’t wait to refill my creative well, which, thanks to a combination of circumstances, has started to run dangerously low.
Why, I’ve only just begun to think about what I’m going to wear on awards night. Last year I’d gone on several shopping expeditions by this time, searching for the perfect dress. This year, since there’s no chance I’ll be up on that stage, it doesn’t matter nearly as much what I wear.
Speaking of what I wear, why didn’t anyone warn me that in my purple dress, I bore more than a passing resemblance to Grimace — and a headless Grimace, to boot?
Ahem. I should be nicer to myself, right?
I’ll start by attending plenty of workshops and learning all I can. I didn’t have a chance to attend even half of the sessions that caught my eye last year — but I ordered the conference CD so I could listen to them later. Well, I’m here to tell you, I have yet to crack open those 2011 conference recordings. I’m beginning to think the workshops are mythical creatures, only available in real time.
See you in Anaheim!
Wow. With this weekend’s entry, I’ve completed a month of Six Sentence Sunday offerings.
Let’s see if I can end the month with a bang, shall we? These six sentences pick up after Mel watches Dave tuck their daughter in and read her a bedtime story, so she’s feeling pretty warm and fuzzy toward him.
My six:
When he reached out to brush her hair off her face, Mel reared back. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Dave’s grin flickered on in full force, and something else melted inside her. “Renewing our acquaintance.”
There had to be something wrong with that idea, but with him looking at her like that, Mel had no idea what it was. As she leaned into him, her lips parted, already begging for a kiss.
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Had I not written so many bad stories, I wouldn’t have the good ones to show for it now. The mistakes I’ve made have taught me how to … well, write better.
Practice really does make perfect. Okay, maybe not perfect, because no matter how many times you edit a story, there’ll always be one more word to tweak here or a sentence to rewrite there.
But I firmly believe what I write today is better than what I wrote yesterday. I learn something new every day … and the words I commit to paper tomorrow just might be the ones that land me an agent or a publishing contract.
I was totally bummed to find out last Sunday’s Six Sentence Sunday link was broken. I’ll try not to let that happen again.
This week’s submission is again from “Diva in the Dugout.” Soon after Dave meets his daughter for the first time, the three of them head to Mel’s car. He’s under the mistaken impression that Mel drinks too much because someone else spilled beer on her at the first game, so he suggests that she let him drive.
My six:
Mel stared at Dave. First he wanted her baby girl and now her car? Who gave him the right to take over her life?
You did five years ago when you had unprotected sex with the guy.
She ignored her conscience’s dig. “Who says I trust you with my car?”