I was Tagged - again - by Chris!

Total Number Books I Own: Holy crap. I have NO bloody idea, and I'm not about to count them. Let's just say A LOT.

Last Book Read: UNDERCOVER LOVERS by Julie Kenner

Book Sitting On My Coffee Table I'm Planning To Read: I've been reading a lot of Blazes to see if I want to target the line, but suspense is beckoning me back. ALONE by Lisa Gardner (I sooooooo love her!) is really shouting quite loudly.

Five Books That Mean A Lot to Me:

1. ENVY, by Sandra Brown - my first ever romantic suspense. My all time fav.
2. ON WRITING, by Stephen King - read my blog and you'll know why. He gives me permission to be me.
3. CRY NO MORE, by Linda Howard - although not my all time fav Howard novel (KILL & TELL gets that ribbon, cuz dayum, I'll forever lust Marc Chastain..*drool*), it ripped my heart out as an adoptee and gave me the inside view of the mother's lifelong search, and final FOUND. I have goosebumps fresh on my arms just THINKING about it.
4) THE PERFECT HUSBAND, by Lisa Gardner - my fav (so far) of her books, with a hero so dark, he makes me hurt for him and want to fix him myself. He isn't perfect, doesn't want to be perfect, and could NEVER be perfect. And I adore him.
5) THE SEDUCTIVE IMPOSTER, by Janet Chapman - She befriended me last year, my first year at Nationals, and omg, I was SUCH a glaring newbie. She held back her two new releases at a signing simply because I told her I'd be there. Besides the warm fuzzies I will forever feel for Janet herself, THE SEDUCTIVE IMPOSTER was the first book that told me it's okay to laugh while you worry yourself sick. It's a romantic suspense, absolutely threaded with laugh out loud moments. It was yet another of my "firsts".

And here ya go, the next five victims:
Gena Showalter
Kristen Painter
Gina Welborn
Teresa Baskinski Eckford
Shannon McKelden

Men vs. Women: Logic vs. Emotion

So this has been an interesting topic of conversation in my life lately. Apparently, men are more logical than women (yes, a man said that...I know, you're as shocked as I am with that little revelation.) Women, however, are *emotional*. (Duh.) However, does that mean men have no emotion, are NEVER lead by their emotions (no, I did NOT say penis, thankyouverymuch!) and women are ONLY moved by emotion, and NEVER logic?

Well, saying it that way, it seems like a stupid question. But is it? Can women separate logic from emotion? I think so. I'd LIKE to think so. However, every single time I think of a "for instance", there's an emotion linked to it. A past memory for my actions/words/whatever. An opinion...an emotion. I can't imagine the world in black and white, black OR white, logic OR emotion. To me, they go hand in hand.

Granted, some are more emotional than others, and some people are naturally more logical than others. Writer vs. attorney, for instance. I'm sure, regardless of their "career", you can INSTANTLY assign, in your mind, the logical one as the attorney, dealing with facts, and the emotional one as the writer...especially if you ARE a writer and thus you go through 4985047850345 emotions in an hour with your work in progress. What if I said, however, that the attorney is the female, and the writer is a male? Kinda changes up that mental image you had going there, didn't it?

And it also proves my point. Men are not more logical than women (hello?! We will ask direction when lost!). But I DO believe that we are also more emotional. (Yeah yeah, I know you guys are still stuck up there where I mentioned "penis" and are like..what? What do you mean you don't mean my penis?!?! Move along and keep up, k?) So if you ADD our emotion to our logic, yet you do NOT add the emotion to the male's logic, it *appears* we're merely emotional. Make sense? If you're a guy, you're probably scowling at the screen and thinkin' HUH? If you're a chick, 10 to 1 odds, you're nodding, because you TOTALLY understood all of that.

And THAT, my friends, is *logical*.

Yes, it is.

Tomorrow, I'll tell you why I'm thinking so much about this. Oh wait..it's an idea for a book, so no, you'll just have to wait and read it.

Deal.

Can I Get a YEEHAW?!

I forgot to mention when speaking a bit ago regarding the RWR. If you look in the front inside cover, you'll see the HUGE neon green ad for Julie Kenner's new book: THE GIVENCHY CODE.

Here are some quotes for your viewing pleasure:

"Kenner is one of my favorite writers. Funny and sassy, her books are a cherished delight." ~bestselling author Sherrilyn Kenyon

"Kenner's star is definitely on the ascent." ~Publishers Weekly
(Well said, btw.)

Then, if you don't mind, look at the FULL BACK COVER and you'll find Dee Davis rockin' the romantic suspense world. Listing all three of her new releases (whew, makes me tired just THINKING it) of ENIGMA, EXPOSURE, and ENDGAME. And allow me some more quotes for you:

"Dee Davis is at the top of her game." ~Mariah Stewart, Bestselling author

"As a suspense novelist, Davis just keeps lifting the bar." ~Romantic Times

Why a yeehaw? 'Cause they're BOTH from my local Austin chapter and they both absolutely rock. Although Dee now lives in New Yawk, we still like her to hang out with us Texans. ~wink~ As they say, you can take the girl outta Texas, but you can't take Texas outta the girl.

"Your stories deserve no less."

I suppose it's all right to quote someone, as long as you give them credit for it, right? If it's not, I trust one of you will let me know. The above quote is from Jennifer Crusie's PROgress article for the June RWR. That was the 2nd to the last sentence of the article. Powerful, isn't it? The last sentence is moreso:

"And so do you."

Wow. Like when I was reading ON WRITING, again, it's like one of my favorite writers is GIVING me permission to expect the best, not only from me, but the industry as a whole. Permission not only to write, like Stephen King gave, but permission to not settle, like Jenny Crusie just did. I have no idea why I find these little comments to be so powerful to me, why I feel like they're directed right AT me, but I do.

Jenny's article was actually about agents. I swear to all things holy, she must have heard about the angst on the PRO loops as we crashed the National database in our scurrying to get agent appointments. I can only imagine that's why she addressed agents like she did, as did Tara Taylor Quinn on her FROM THE PRESIDENT address at the beginning of the mag. Reminding us to be TRUE PROs. Professional writers. And I'm still convinced I won't get my agent from a pitch. I don't think I'll get one, either, from querying, although I won't write that out entirely. I think I'll get my perfect agent from yakkin' it up and being myself, or from a referral. I don't know why I think this, I just do. ~shrug~

Jenny reminds us in her article that she was new to all of this once, too. I think a lot of new writers forget that little fact. Nora Roberts was new. Jennifer Crusie was new. Linda Howard was new. They have their own rejection letters sitting around, I'm sure. And yet look at them now. Is it any wonder that we're told persistence is a key to a career in writing? Keep going, keep trying, keep pushing, keep learning, and most importantly, keep growing.

So the quote above, and the 2nd quote as well, are in regard to agents. Don't settle. YOU and I deserve the best match, not the first offer. And isn't THAT hard to think about? I'd get all kinds of giggly just having an agent request a partial. Now I'm not even submitting. Why? I know my stuff isn't ready, and 2) I know who I'm going after. I know who I want. I just got to get my voice and my characters to make them want me just as badly.

And I have the confidence that I can. And will.

Fluffy White Clouds & Bright Blinding Sunshine

Well, I couldn't take it anymore -- negativity on the first post -- bad BAD karma! I got several replies on my uber-negative post regarding B, and sorry, can't remember off the top of my head which one of you said your husband never reads your work or even blog either, let me tell ya, total kindred-spirit moment. Those that understand, you make my heart ache in that you DO understand in such a way. Those that ARE my support group here, you have my eternal devotion.

So I came here to post to get the negative one off the "top", thus, the title above. But, let's look at that blinding sunshine. Texas. End of May. 'Nuff said. ~sigh~ Two days left of school, then the heathens are here full time. All four. FOUR.

Note to self: Make sure all refills are filled for the Xanax.

If I had a uterus, I'd birth the child of the person that created Xanax.
Yes I would.

Feel the Love

So, as I said two posts down, I did come up with a new story line last night. I tell B, "Hey! Guess what?! I just came up with a new story line!!"

B: "I don't even want to hear it."

Me: ~insert my frown here~ "Why not?"

B: "Why would I?"

Well, nevermind then. His support is just drowning me in the high waves of love rolling over me. Not.

For those of you with great support systems, buy the person some chocolate and tell them thanks. Today.

Don't Quit Your Day Job

Wanna know how much a writer makes? Go here.

The "S" Word

Yeah, you think you already know what it is. If you're a writer, you DEFINITELY know what it is. If you're not a writer, you THINK you know what it is, and granted, it's probably right in the same vile-word category.

SYNOPSIS!!!

You chicken. I see you flailing and screaming and ripping your clothes from your panicked body, reminescent of Old Testament times, and I'm sure your dramatic performance would impress even poor ol' Job's wife. But really, it's okay. I promise.

And I just LIED!

In my last post, I mentioned how I'm not planning on writing full time until late August, and now is the perfect opportunity to say what I WILL be doing. Last night, I came up with a new story line, and then I fleshed it out bouncing it off someone (not B) and realized that for a short category, I'm dang near the point of being able to write a short synopsis on it. Imagine that.

Many writers I know are on the FIRST DRAFT email loop that gives little articles and news in the publishing world. Today I got two on SYNOPSIS. If you know me mostly as a writer, you'll know already that I'm collecting all things synopsis. I'm printing out anything I think is valuable, even if it's just a one pager. I went to Julie Kenner's class she gave our Austin group. Also, if you're a regular reader of my blog, you'll remember my rant on how nothing in publishing has any definite rules, minus that blasted 37 cent SASE. So I figure I'll take bits and pieces of everything I've learned to create my own style. Sounds like a FABULOUS plan, doesn't it? Thanks, I thought so, too.

So this morning, while reading Noah Lukeman's FIRST FIVE PAGES, I look up at my email and see the First Draft emails are here, and they're on synopses. Well rock on. I can add them to the 200 sheets already in my SYNOPSIS BINDER (yes, I have an entire binder devoted JUST to synopses...I'm such a loser.) Imagine my surprise when I'm reading this article and it says (my paraphrase) "I'm not even going to cover the format of a synopsis, that's something you should all already know."

Umm, 'scuse me? Some insist that your synopsis be double spaced like the 'script. Some say single spaced. Some say single spaced, but only up to 2 pages. If you double space, start each new paragraph with an indention. If you're single spacing it, left justify all paragraphs with leaving a single line break between each one. Some people say you can use Times New Roman (once again, refer back to my rant post). Some say that if the 'script is done in Courier New, the synopsis should be as well. Some say that doesn't matter.

And frankly, I think I'm going to stick to the Kenner and Brennan method. If you do it right (whichever right may be for YOU), it's not going to matter what FORMAT you use. Julie recently told us that she sent out one that was 22 pages (maybe 25, not sure, but it was HONKIN'!) and not only that, but it was alllllll single spaced. Granted, she's published and published TONS, but it just goes to show there is no ONE way. After looking at the publishing business for a year now, I'm totally believing her and Allison. If so many people have SO many opinions on what way is the "right way", then they must have succeeded in "that" way, right? Which means each editor, each agent that said, "Yes, we want you" made that author believe they had the Magic Synopsis Key. All of that simply proves there is no ONE right way.

So I'll do it the way I think represents my book in its best light. And not enter a single contest in which some anal judge (not all are, but we all had that one, haven't we?) will mark me down based on HER opinion, and not score me for the ONE appropriate thing: Does my synopsis tell and sell the story?

So there.

When Does Studying Become Counter-productive?

As any follower of my blog knows, I haven't been writing much lately. In all honesty, I haven't written much at all since the completion of my first novel, and at the same time, my discovery of RWA and the realization of how clueless I was. The revisions on that one completed novel are HUGE and daunting, because NOW I know exactly how many problems the manuscript holds. So what do I do with it? Nothing.

There are a lot of writers out there that write that first novel and then it's forever tucked in a drawer or hidden under their bed, trading gossip with the off-season clothings and the occasional dust bunnies, and every now and then chattin' it up with the sex toys hidden under there in the hopes that the children never delve in the darkness as their mother perpetuates the myth of monsters under the bed.

But not my first novel. The book is good. The premise is unique. But it was written by an amateur SO green that her olive skin damn near glowed. Although I've started several other stories since then, none of them are more than a chapter in length. The ideas are there, the stories showing promises and fun in the revelation of plot and character, but yet I don't pick them up and work on them.

Also, if you read this blog, you know that I plan on writing fulltime come the end of August, when my youngest of the four heathens starts school. I will have all day to write, to plot and plan and kill the darlings in my books. And if you read the PASSION thread here, you'll see why I'm postponing. Because I know once I open the door where the stories live, they'll flood out and the damn will be very hard to stop back up again. I become consumed, and it's a bit frightening. As much as JBM wants to implement a schedule, I just don't work that way. I'm left-handed, to begin with, and he's SO anally right-handed (and thus, left-brained) that he can't understand my fears and my trepidation. And now Foster is up my ass too, pushing and pushing, wanting me to produce results and "work on my gift". Well, I WILL. Someday...

With the plan that I'm going to start writing full time in the fall (late summer), I've decided to spend that time reading anything and everything. My TBR (To Be Read) shelf is literally overflowing, and that's just "my line". That has nothing to do with the crapload of craft books I've gotten. As posted, I've finished King's ON WRITING and I've moved on to Lukeman's FIRST FIVE PAGES. Up next will be Maass's WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL. While reading these on the craft of writing, I'm able to read fiction for the fun of it. I just started Kathleen O'Reilley's THE DIVA'S GUIDE TO SELLING HER SOUL and on page 11, I'm already in love with it and the concept. Thankfully, I can read a non-fiction at the same time as fiction, the only way I can absorb two books at the same time.

My reasoning is thus: Why write, or revise, when there's SO MUCH for me to learn? I don't want my next book to have such wicked revisions looking at me, mocking my fear and my time and everything else on the freakin' planet. I want to do my best the first time, to have a first draft with only one re-write. So I need to finish SELF-EDITING by by Browne & King and NO MORE REJECTIONS by Orr before I even begin to look at my next idea and committ to paper. Does that make sense?

But when will enough be enough? At what point does the idea of studying the craft of writing replace the precious time to actually WRITE? I don't know. I really don't. I'd like to think I could study in the mornings then write at night, but my tenacious personality just doesn't work like that. So I'm doing things in typical Brenda-style. All or nothing. So I'll continue to consume the craft books while ideas float in and out of my mind. I am noting things as they come to me: Witty stories, quirky personalities and even fabulous titles, and making note of them so that when the time comes to sit down and PRODUCE, I have an arsenal to pull from.

On a writing note, rather than study/craft, I do have a goal: I plan on entering the Always the Bride contest with my first book (the first three chapters have been revised to hell and back) from when I finaled in The Merritt. I've been absorbing the feedback of judges, and I've already got huge plans for changing the first part yet again. So by the time Nationals is over, I should have a firm gasp on reworking THE HAUNTING OF ELIZABETH.

In the meantime, Liz is just gonna have to do with bumpin' uglies with Alex and wait her turn to get to the revisions. I'm sure she's miserable at the idea, but she'll live.

Check it out!

If you look at my links to the left, you'll see I've added a lot of new blogs to my list (some are listed under "authors" but most are under "BLOGS" if I'm linking a blog.) I found some GREAT ones out there today, and I've been spending WAY too much time posting on them. ~sigh~

I'm off to start THE FIRST FIVE PAGES.

Frankly, I feel sorry for Mr. Lukeman. After ON WRITING, he's having to follow some...err...stiff (cough) competition.

Anyway, check out the others. They're great!

"Permission is hereby Granted" I love you, Mr. King.

Last week, I finished up Stephen King's ON WRITING. This is, hands down, one of the best books I've ever read. I'm a huge King fan, in so much as I rarely read anything else. That's why, as recently as just a year ago, I had no idea who Sandra Brown or Linda Howard were, and now that thought is simply laughable.


I marked several passages in this book to go back later and think on after I'd finished the book as a whole. And I found one thing marked more than others:
Permission.


If you're familiar with Brenda Bradshaw at ALL, you know already that I'm pulled in a billion different directions. Craft stuff I'm selling to earn money for Nationals, I own message boards that I've been neglecting as of late, I'm on 43 email writing loops, I have the blog, plus I'm inhaling books on the craft of writing as fast as I can, AND reading my line. Toss in that mix a 3200 sq foot house that I can't keep clean to save my life, a husband that's passive agressive about my writing, and four kids, two cats, a dog and a rat, we're lucky my medical cocktail is as simple as it is (and that explains the Xanax, doesn't it?) So then I stumbled upon this line from Stephen King:


"Talent renders the whole idea of rehearseal meaningless; when you find something at which you are talented, you do it (whatever it is) until your fingers bleed or your eyes are ready to fall out of your head....The sort of strenuous reading and writing program I advocate - four to six hours a day, every day - will not seem strenuous if you really enjoy doing these things and have an aptitude for them...If you feel you need permission to do all the reading and writing your little heart desires, however, consider it hereby granted by yours truly."


I damn near almost cried reading this. Stephen King was giving me PERMISSION to do what I've always known I could do: write. And seriously, who is B to argue with Mr. King? S.K. doesn't even KNOW me, yet he understands me better than my own husband. He understands a writer's soul. And as you other writers out there know, that's a rare thing to find outside the writing world.


Then, further in the book, I found this one and marked it:
"Still, do you need someone to make you a paper badge with the word WRITER on it before you can believe you are one? God, I hope not."


I felt instant guilt. I felt like a scolded child when the teacher calls you on the carpet. Yes, I DO need that badge. Just like I DO need permission. I can't give it to myself quite yet. So I grab onto his words written in 1999. I grab onto his telepathy, as he described this book in the beginning. He wrote it before I knew I'd write. He wrote it knowing I was going to need it. He's proven his theory absolutely 100% true ..in me.


I'll argue with B. But I will not have the audicity to argue with Stephen King when his telepathic message is finally reaching my brain.


So off to work, to write, to enjoy my talent. Thank you, Mr. King, with every ounce of my being.

Someone needs to sue BK

Let me start out by saying that I don't watch a lot of TV, but I HAVE seen this Burger King commercials. Frankly, they scare the crap outta me. What is UP with that? And what was the person smoking when he came up with it? (Trust me, only a MALE MIND would generate that...thing.) If I woke up and that was staring at me from IN MY BED WITH ME, I'd crap my boyshorts right then and there. Then insta-death.

Poof. So much for my mother's warning of wearing clean underwear, JUST in case.

And the new commercials with it...Oh. My. Gawd. I just saw the one of him staring down Darth. The heavy breathing. Like my friend Foster said, it's like a bad porno flick. I still think Darth should have shuddered, as if to say that no matter how evil HE is, even that freak plastic king leaves him with the willies.

She's Loose!

And not in a hussy-kind-of-way, especially since we're talking about my daughter.

Want a look into how I was when I was younger? Visit my daughter's blog. She finally cleaned her pigpen...err...room, so she's granted internet access again, and is posting.

Holy Mother, save us all.

Hump Day

No matter the reason for nicknaming Wednesday, it just sounds nasty.

In a good sort of way, of course.

In honor of HUMP DAY, I'm going to start a new thing here. Find me your sexiest man on the net. Your dream guy. Post it in your comment and share with us what makes you quirk a brow and wiggle in your chair.

Blogosphere

Dang. Have an impressive list all blogging together. Some of my favorite people, and ones I was sure my writin' pals that read this would want to be aware of:

Blogosphere

Check 'em out. And if you forget where they are, I've added them to the blog list to your left. Let me know whatcha think!

I'll post in a bit. Got some things on my mind. Consider yourself forewarned.

Whoa, Nelly!

Let me preface this by saying: I've not been on a horse in 25 years.

Until today.

So B has this new job, right? It's a boys ranch for kids on drugs or gettin' into trouble, etc. One of the owners is an NFL player (Scott something, I can never remember his last name - plays for the Titans.) They're going to have horses out there. They have the horses, but they're not building the stables until starting sometime next week. The cows are there already, and I think they're going to bring in buffalo. Why? I guess just cuz they can. So B hooks up with this guy that's a friend of a friend kind of thing, and this morning I find myself 10 ft in the air on the back of the horse (Okay, so it wasn't REALLY 10 ft, but it damn near felt like it, especially since I had a SHETLAND PONY for myself when we had horses back when I was a tiny person.) I did, however, get up without the aid of a stool, and with my hip issues, that's sayin' something. Thankfully, I'm still quite bendable (oh, look! There's something for them Blaze books right there! Brenda the Bendable. Sound kinky? Ya'll are nasty.)

It was fun up on the horse and brought back a ton of childhood memories. My dad had cattle and horses when we were little. We lived in the city (suburbs) so the animals weren't right there, but every Saturday, we went out to feed them. I even remember taking cattle into downtown Ft. Worth to the slaughter houses. Thankfully, my dad only allowed us to use the horses as pets, and never let us very close to the cows unless we were unloading hay. Otherwise, I'd have been a sobbing mess in the truck on the way to the slaughter house.

Being at this guy's house today though...Oh man, it makes me want to chuck this house and get some land and some horses. But the reality is: Horses are expensive. Not just the animal itself, but the trailers (and truck, since we have a mini-van) and saddles and vets and shoeing and all that other stuff. And with four kids, I'm thinking if I had serious thought of having horses now would be a guarantee for suicide. I already feel like I'm pulled 93485703458 ways, adding another thing would be downright stupid. But it's neat to dream.

And I'm really NOT a country girl. Yeah, I listen to country music. Yeah, I'm from Texas. Yeah, I'm comfortable around horses and cows and all that jazz. I can bridle a horse, saddle a horse, but I'm more the kind that needs to have a place to go ride when the fancy hits, without the responsibility of the upkeep.

Besides, I have too many stories to write, right? Right.

And this morning, I came up with a new one, perfect for Blaze. Puts a new spin on "Rode hard and put up wet", doesn't it? ~grin~

Who Wants to Write about Raunchy Sex?!

So on my forums (non-writing) I posted about the possibility of writing for the Blaze line. One of my more...innocent...friends, wondered why I wanted to do that?

Uhh, cuz I can, and get PAID to do it. And because I definitely have enough real life experience in it! I mean, do you want to know the really dirty details of my life? I bet you don't. You THINK you do, but once you have knowledge about a particular subject, you can't erase the images. I mean, look at my picture up there. I'm sweet. I'm innocent. The absolute epitome' of purity!!!!

Yeah, okay, so I pop out a lot of kids. Not my fault!! Two of the four were birth control issues. The other two were just weird timing. Isn't there a saying about doing one thing and doing it better than anyone else? Well, mine's obviously sex.

Yes, I've been tied to a spiderweb made of rope, in a club in Boston. And a St. Andrew's Cross. I know all kinds of nasty little things, and more details of other things I STILL wish I didn't know. So shouldn't I capitolize on that knowledge and go after the X-rated line of Blaze and be PAID for the knowledge? I think so.

So maybe I DO know what it's like to get all pissy and while blindfolded, flip the bird to a man holding the whip. *I* didn't know he was so good with it that he could wrap my flippin' finger until after he did it. (Oh, he thought he was THE MAN that night, showin' off like that.) Maybe I DO know how to make ice dildos. I learned that from B though. See? Not my fault. I just hang out with a lot of pervs.

And, according to the posts and emails I've received in reply to my orgasm post, it's something more people want to read about.

Now I just have to get busy WRITING about it.

My daughter, the weird one with the blog that has the mind of a 28 year old instead of 14, told me she doesn't want me to write Blaze because she's afraid of her friends at school seeing it. Well, duh. But, these friends don't hold a lot of credibility. Shandie was reading one of the romance novels here from home, and one of the guys at school said, "You read that porn?!" (It was straight romance, otherwise she wouldn't have been allowed to read it.) Shan answered with, "My mother WRITES these books."

Unforunately, the guy perked up and said, "Really??!!" Ugh.

So then I say, okay, I'll just write Blaze under a pen-name. That seemed to ease her worries, until I said I'd do it as Brenda Fontenot, my dead ex (YAY!) last name. Which just happens to still be the last name of two of my four kids, Shandie included. You have never seen eyes bug out, or a jaw drop so instantly, when I said that.

I love tormenting my offspring. It's just SO sweet. BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Hey Brenda, what's with the fire & horns there on the left?

I'm SO glad you asked! That's a web-design business that's going to design my site for me. RhinoSites

Anyway, I'm trying to get Michael some referrals for doing this for me. Websites are a HUGE tool to writers, even those of us currently unpublished. I've heard of agents googling new authors to see their sites, read about them, get a feel of their voice and even to read blurbs on any books. It's a GREAT marketing tool even before you're getting a check from a publishing house. Additionally, with Nationals coming up, you guys could get the sites built in time to do business cards and have your brand-spanking new site on the cards.

Check them out, see what you think. Remember that if you go with Michael and Ryan, they give you something no one else can: Literally 24/7 support with THEM. Not an automated system. Not someone across with globe with an accent you can't understand. And in designing your site, Michael will walk you through every step, and literally design it JUST FOR YOU.

I know soooooooo many writers are using blogs. This blog, hopefully in the near future, will be gone. Because I'll have a blog area on the site Michael is making me. How cool will that be? None of that publishing all the time, and if something screws up at 3am, I can call him and wake his sleepy self up to fix it for me. With my technical handicaps, that is SUCH a perk!!!!

It's going to be really neat, because it's going to host forums. I'm new to the email loop thing that's currently all over yahoo. I'm much more used to forums. I started out on Woman's Day but a lot of us got tired of it, since anyone could post and it was hugely unmoderated. A lot of my friends and I moved to create private boards. I've tried out proboards and iBoards, but didn't really care much for either. Now we sit on my birth mother's private server so we don't have to deal with a lot of crap like we used to. All of that to say: I like forums.

Forums give you the ability to separate categories. So, in thinking of a writer's needs, we'd have boards with categories like:

General Chat (blab all ya want on whatever)
Agent/Editor News
Resource Books
Promotion (self promo area)
Critiques

and so forth. The good thing is this: The posts stay. You don't have to worry about info going through the emails and having to print it or save it to a subfolder just in case you need it in the future. Once it's posted on the boards, it's there. You can post feedback, etc. (If you want an idea on what they'll look like, go to Woman's Day. Very similar set up.) I really don't like the set up of some boards, like Suzanne Brockmann's. I love her and her books, but the way her boards are set up are confusing and very time consuming. I promise, these boards will NOT be. We can even close membership so the general public aren't allowed in. Just writers. It's really a neat thing. I'd love to hear your feedback on this, and if it's something you, as a writer, would like and participate in.

So there ya go. Look at the portfolio on his site. (I LOVE the look of The Angry Chair he designed.) See what you think. I think you won't be disappointed.

Can Women and Men Be Just Friends?

Speaking of WHEN HARRY MET SALLY...

On my previous post, I mention a scene from the movie. My good friend Ann asked the question that's the theme: Can women and men really be just friends?

I did answer her in chat: Yes, I think so. I do believe so. I think it can be difficult and needs to be discussed as the friendship develops deeper. Ann asked the question in a comment, but I thought we should bring it out here and see what you all think.

I think love is best when it begins as friends. There's a deeper level there, a trust and a bond that is harder to break. It's knowing each other on more than one plane, with deeper levels to the relationship.

I'd still rather have passion first though. But that's just me. I think maybe I need to stop reading this Blaze line!!!

~swivels in the chair to pick a new book~

Let's go with comedy (the line I'm supposed to be studying anyway!) The winner is: FLIRTING WITH DANGER, by Suzanne Enoch. Watch for the book review on my book blog.

In the meantime, tell me your opinions. Even better, give us examples of any of the above mentioned scenarios. Don't worry...it's the internet. Your identity is safe. Kinda. ~grin~

I'll Have What She's Having

Know the line? If you're a chick reading this, probably you do. It's from WHEN HARRY MET SALLY and Sally has just had her incredibly fake orgasm in the restaurant, convincing Harry that he no idea when a woman is faking it or not. I do believe that she succeeded, while at the same time, leaving all the other men in the room with raging hard-ons and the woman pining away for Harry, who obviously did SOMETHING to make Sally so vocally enthusiastic (ha! he wishes!)

And let's face it. If you're a chicka reading this, you probably faked it before, too. Haven't we all? I must admit, I've rarely faked it due to feeding a guy's ego. I couldn't care less about ego. But I HAVE faked it due to time restraints or lack of interest. So many guys want to hold off until they KNOW you have reached that ever glorious peak, and after a bit, all I can think of is, "If one more drop of sweat lands on me, I'm going to gouge out his eyeballs and make him use them as lube." After breeding as many times as I have, I have control over these little PC muscles, and the fakes have never been questioned. I know you girls are reading this and nodding, totally getting what I'm saying.

The men reading this are like, "No way! I'd know if she was faking it!"

So please allow us girls a moment to crack up, point at you and laugh hysterically.

Okay, that's better. Why in the world am I writing about orgasms? I mean, they're so much better to HAVE than to write about, but alas, it's on my mind. Why? Because I'm reading Harlequin's BLAZE line. I have finished four now. I did not like two of them, one to the point where I returned it to the store for a refund. Of the two out of four I disliked, they had a common occurance within the pages. Masturbation.

If you know me at all (mirc people, I'm looking at you!) you know my feelings on masturbation. It's just not for me. Never has been. It's like giving yourself a backrub. If you have to do all the work, what's the POINT? I mean, this is why men were created, right? That's THEIR job, not mine. And if for some ungodly and wicked reason there isn't a man, we have the bathtub. And I think that's seriously why I didn't like those two Blaze books. I couldn't relate to the heroine, because she was thinking things and doing things I'd never think and I wouldn't do.

So now I'm thinking of Blaze. The stories are SHORT. There's no love. I mean, it's implied (and in the one I finished last night, it was exchanged on the last page) but it's all raw lust and passion. (See the theme of the last couple of days tying in here?) According to my informal word count on these novels, I'd say they're around 50k words. According to the category, they state 70k, but if you do 250 words times the number of pages, I got 50-55K on these. (I tested it on two of the four. I'll do the others to see if they're the same.) I do believe my count is accurate, as well, because I can read one a day. Short and easy read, with raunchy sex and almost all of them mention some type of sex toy and even the occasional bondage elements. Is it romance? No. It's erotica. If she's describing the cream of the tip of his cock (her words, not mine), that ain't romantic. I don't care who ya are. That's erotica. Thankfully, she didn't go and describe the taste, because then I'd be analyzing the crap out of it with, "I wonder if he had anything alcoholic to drink?" or "Hope he ate a lot of fruit the day before!" and stuff like that. (Yes, guys, it DOES make a difference. YOU gargle and get back to me if you disagree.)

Of course, if the authors had chosen to share the details of taste with us, I doubt any would actually have the guts to say "Salty, warm, gel-like bleach", and let's face it, that about sums it up, regardless of what he chowed down on the night before.

Unless, of course, he was chowing down on you.

Then it doesn't count.

Why? Because we're the chicks who can fake it and make them go stupid in their he-man-I-made-her-word-rock mentality, when we all know our eyes were closed and IF we made the Big O, it was because of the one we had with us in our mind, not the one that was dropping bits of sweat on us in his rutting around like a pig.

Fantasies, orgasms, and ruttin' around. Yup, sounds like a Blaze waitin' to happen.

To Sleep, the chance to dream

I love to sleep. When I was in high school, I was diagnosed as having hypersomnia. I don't know if this is a real thing or not, but it made sense. Teenagers sleep a lot as it is, but even with that knowledge, I slept a LOT. I still do. If I have a chance to nap, I snag it. I never wake up early unless I absolutely have to. I simply love to sleep.

And I'm convinced this is because I love to dream. I'm a lucid dreamer, which means I dream in full color, smells, everything. I also have control in my dreams, and triggers that I can use to maneuver the dream. I'm one of those people (maybe the only one) that uses the nicotine patch JUST FOR the "weird dreams associated with the product". Yes, they may be nightmares, but for a lucid dreamer, nightmares are nothing. A trigger in the dream will tell me it's a dream, no matter how real it seems. The ability to control the dream keeps any real fear at bay. The patch enhances my dreaming to technocolor and it totally rocks.

In my dreams, I have the most fabulous affairs. I live the most exciting life. I look freakin' gorgeous, the perfect hair, the perfect body. Whatever I concentrate on before I sleep is almost always what I'll dream about, so I can pick whomever I want to find, whether it's from a movie or a book or someone I know, and I can then go and find them in the dream.

For years I never realized my dreaming ability was any different from others. My nightmares as a child were beyond real, and I suffered horribly before I learned my triggers around the age of 10. When someone was chasing me (I'm chased a lot in my dreams), I'd wake up with muscles cramps like I'd just exercised for hours. My dad slept with me I don't know how many times, because I was convinced the bad people in my dreams were real people. Of course, they weren't, but the dreams were so vivid I truly believed otherwise.

Around the age of 10, my trigger came into effect and I learned the power I had over the visions. Occasionally some bad ones would creep in that I couldn't control, and still do now, but that's rare with the triggers. And since learning the ability to manuever the dreams, I've been a sleep junkie. Few things in life can compare to my dreams, because I can make them as simple or as grand as I want them to be. Of course, real life is great most times: deep giggles from the toddlers, beaming at my 11 yr old's all A report card, reading a fabulous story Shan's written and feeling that pride and all encompassing love. Those are the real things, the solid things. But when life becomes too big, too grand, too depressing, too boring, I can escape to a book, or even better, to my dreams.

Then I wake up and see the dishes and the laundry and all that jazz and I pine for my sleep again. So if you ever call and I tell you I'm sleeping and will call you back, now you know: I'm dreaming of something delicious.

Passion

It's a powerful word, isn't it? It encompasses a strength, just in typing it, just in saying it. When you're feeling it, it can be overwhelming.

Over the years, this word has been used to describe me, and now a lot of the times I choose it when I need that "What's one word to describe you?" answer to questions. I think, however, sometimes passionate and tenacious are entwined. I am passionate. When I fall in love, I do so completely and totally. And when I fall out of love, I do so immediately. When I take on a project, whether it's a craft item or a book, I become engrossed with it. Which is why, I truly believe, I am having a hard time in starting my next book. I know that once I do, that drive will kick in and I will be lost to anything else.

Passion lacks reason. When consumed with passion, you can't very well make thoughtful and considerate decisions. You're lost in the passion, the moment, the person. All that matters at that moment IS that moment. Nothing else. It's a fire that blazes and burns and if allowed to grow out of control, it can destroy. If left untended, it becomes this low, smoldering heat. If not stroked and teased, it eventually dies out. One moment there's heat, and then, nothing but ash.

You can love without passion. And passion without love. Some people may think that love and passion are the same thing. I assure you, they are not. Love is cozy feeling, a warmth that spreads and lasts for years, passes through generations. Love has highs and lows, peeks and valleys. Love is comforting. Love is safety, a surety of things. The knowledge that it will always be, one way or another. Like the sun rising, you know you will have love.

Now think of passion. Comforting is not something you think of when you imagine the word "passion", is it? It's immediate, it's fuel that drives us. It makes us lose all reasoning. Nothing matters at all but the moment of right now. It's like a climax, constantly on the edge, waiting and waiting and building and building and then this explosive moment that blinds you, the flashes and the lights and the sensation of a small death. You can have love without all of that. But you cannot have passion without it. And if one is not careful, passion can dance on the wire with a little friend called Obsession.

Both of them consume. Both of them control. Both of them burn you up from the inside out. The line that separates them, I believe, is very blurred.

I don't know why passion is on my mind. Well, that's a lie. I do know. But I won't tell you. I will tell you that I have been reading the Blaze line and I have no doubt that I can write this particular borderline erotica. One thing you do not find in the Blaze books (at least, I haven't so far), is love. But they drip with an overflowing amount of passion. Raw, hungry passion.

I can't get my brain to work right this morning. I haven't blogged much lately, and I'm feeling the strain for the first time in my life of getting my thoughts down on paper. It's quite the odd sensation. As Stephen King says, ever so wisely: We have to exercise our brain to write.

He's right. And he's waiting for me, so off I must go to study.

If you could only choose one to feel, which would you choose? Love or Passion? My answer: Now and always, I want to feel passion above all else.

Think On This:

~Passion~

Tomorrow, that's what I'll write about. Not love. Not lust. But deep, unforgiving, unbending, raw passion.

I look forward to your comments.

No Freakin' Way - Turd Tagged?

Ugh. And JBM thinks *I'm* vile?! Ya'll ain't right.

But neither am I, as I suppose I'll do this.

Turd in a punchbowl
The sound like blasting guns.
Turd in a punchbowl
Glad it ain't the runs.

Rules for the turd tag:
1. Write a four line poem with the 1st and 3rd lines being "turd in a punch bowl"
2. Make lines 2 and 4 rhyme, using any topic. Not SO bad, as tags go.
3. Pass along to 3 unsuspecting punchdrinking bloggers and make them put it on their blog site.

I am tagging the following:

Karyn

- payback!!!!!

Stephanie

- She's weird like me and may like this.

Shari

LOVE YA!

And a fourth just cuz:

Wendy

Cuz she loves nasty stuff.

Changes are a'comin'

Once again I have to preface this by saying it's been a crazy week and I feel horrible for neglecting my blog! I love my blog. How weird is that? Perhaps I'm over-using the word love again, as we often do, but it's my blog and it's my word (at the moment) and I'll over-use it if I wanna. I heart my blog.

Anyway, there are some changes coming to the Household of Hell. First and foremost, there are only 3 weeks of school left. That's the kind of realization that makes me want to run in useless circles while pulling out tufts of hair and renting my clothing in the way of the Old Testament. Fours kids, with no school for three of them, and three of the four being girls...from teenage to toddler...omg, and you thought Animal House was just a movie. But yes, only three weeks, and then WHAM! Another shake up and attempt to reschedule us all. The downside of this is that I have absolutely ZERO self-discipline, and I'll sleep until noon everyday just like I did in high school. Just last night, as I lied in bed WIDE AWAKE (I stopped taking all my meds), I was arguing with myself. (Yes, I do that often.) I'm a night person. That's all there is to it. I've fought it for years, but it's true. Let me sleep until 10am (noon if I'm lucky) and I'll easily stay up until 2am. IF I have to get up early (like to take kids to school), a nap is almost required. My brain just shuts down around the 1:30-3:00 timeframe and it's truly a struggle to stay up. So maybe I should homeschool the kids so that I can keep on what appears to be my natural schedule.

I've always envied those people that wake before dawn, my parents included. To say we clashed when I lived there is a huge understatement. Although my Dad's philosophy was "Work from sun-up to sun-down", more often than not ...well, okay, ALWAYS, he started way before sun-up. He was a mailman for 35 years, so maybe that was it. He had to be at work everyday by 6am, and before that, he was in the Army. Before THAT, he was a farmer's boy (one of 7 kids, 6 of which were boys...talk about my grandma being a brave and inspiring woman!) and we all know how it goes on a farm. Up before the sun to feed the animals before yourself. Blah blah. Well, *I* didn't grow up on a farm, and my weiner dog could wait until 10am to eat anyway. I do envy it though. I think of waking early, around 5am, of the quiet that house would be engulfed in, being able to work out or work on books without all these kids I popped out milling around and asking questions that even God doesn't know the answers to. But I simply CANNOT do it. Okay, I guess I truly don't have the desire to do it.

Well, that's not totally true either. Back in 1993, I started my first book aimed at Intimate Moments. I woke up everyday at 5am to type on a typewriter, tripled spaced so I'd have room to make notes and do rewrites. Unfortunately, my husband of the time (dead *yay* ex) was not supportive (ahahahahahahahahahahha - sorry, hysterical laughter broke free at the mere idea). It lasted maybe a month. Rest of the time, I wrote free hand. After another month, I stopped writing all together. So no, mornings aren't my thing. That's all there is to it.

with summer comes the possibility of staying up extra late to write. I started my completed manuscript right after the April birthdays, on April 30th. By June, my 100K words were done (what I thought at the TIME was done. I've since learned of the revisions that await me. AHHHHHHHHHHH!) So I do write fast, and having no set schedule over summer last year allowed me to do nothing much but WRITE. So I do have that to look forward to.

Along with summer come trips to DFW to visit my family. The kids and I will be there the last week of June for their Vacation Bible School. (Yes, I have to wake up early when I'm there. Bah.) By the time I get settled into some type of summer routine, it'll be July. Shandie will turn 15 (pardon a moment while I wail in dispair) and then RENO will be here!!!! It's gonna so rock.

But sooner than that, it seems like B has found a new job. I don't want to get my hopes up on it, just in case it falls through (please God don't let them do a credit check!) but his schedule is really weird. Three days on, three off, with constant rotation. No set days. When the three land on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, it'll be just like a long weekend. But when they land in the middle of the week, it'll be REALLY weird. But, I can't count those chickens quite yet.

My books on writing craft keep coming in. Shari got me HOW TO WRITE THE BREAKOUT NOVEL as well as FIRST DRAFT IN 30 DAYS. Currently I'm reading Stephen King's ON WRITING, and I cannot get over how freakin' funny he is! I've always enjoyed his books, but dang, I'm enjoying HIM more than I ever liked his books! Once I'm published, don't let me forget to thank him in the credits.

One of the things he talks about is setting a body schedule. We wake up the same time everyday (well, I don't usually) and if we set our bodies to WRITE at the same time everyday, it'll make the process easier. (Let's all hope that JBM doesn't read this and get back on that schedule kick. I hate when he pulls the I TOLD YOU SO card.) My problem is finding that schedule, that good time to write. I have little doubt that when I discover my perfect time, it'll be dark outside, and the clock hands will undoubtedly be hovering around midnight.

Another thing is closing the door. Close the world out, close yourself in. My "office" has no door, and is in the middle of the house, in the corner of the family room. ~sigh~ BUT, at night, I can turn on my desk lamp and my little corner is in an isolated halo. I'm moving the stereo over here today and with a set of headphones, the world will go away. I know this to be true because I tried it with a portable CD player first, and I was SO able to ignore the room and focus on the book instead. Worked. Now I'm moving the stereo here so I can pick whatever drowning-out music I want.

The problem of when I write is similar to when I blog. Rarely do you read a short entry from me. When I get started, I just GO! Same for writing. I become engrossed in the story and hours literally pass until I realize I'm super hungry or I have to pee realllllllllllly bad. So, with summer in mind, and with B's possible new job in mind, my initial idea is to write on his three days off when those three days fall during the week. I don't know if this is going to work because since it'll be summer anyway, with the kids out of school, weekdays and weekends really lose their definitions. But that's my initial idea. When he's home, I'll work. When he's not, I'll do the household stuff. It'll end up a perfect 50/50 split of mommy-mode and writer-mode, assuming that the theory ends up that balanced in practice. I can see your brows raise now and the looks of doubt cross your face. I know because they're crossing mine, too.

Are these excuses? Most writers have to force themselves into the chair (Nora, shut up. We know you don't! Grr.) Maybe they are. I do know that now that I have that wicked craft order out of the house, I'll be able to turn my attention back to more important things, including Mr. King waiting for me in my bedroom, waiting to bestow me with more of his mystical wisdom.

Now if only I'm student enough to learn from him.

Guess we'll find out in the end, eh?

I was Tagged!!!

Karyn, the sneak, tagged me. That means I need to take the list, pick three from the list, answer it then find three new blogs to tag. So here we go:

If I could be a scientist (No, not a good pick, I'd blow things up)
If I could be a farmer (I'd worry about the pigs having 30 min orgasms)
If I could be a musician (Too moody)
If I could be a painter (Too colorful)
If I could be a doctor (Proctology would be the only...opening...with my luck) If I could be a gardener (I'm not THAT dirty, thankyouverymuch)
If I could be a missionary (I don't think they mean the position)
If I could be a chef (I'm chunky enough. No thanks)
If I could be an architect (Too much exactness to feed my creativity)
If I could be a linguist (I'd only talk in pig latin)
If I could be a psychologist (I'd put Freud to shame, the maternal fetish FREAK)
If I could be a librarian (I'd wear leather too much to change their image)
If I could be a lawyer (I think I'll choose this one - look below)
If I could be an inn-keeper (I'd get ill from worrying about what's on the sheets)
If I could be a professor (Too many bowties, no thanks.)
If I could be a writer (HELLO?!)
If I could be a llama-rider (Why the HELL would I WANT to?!)
If I could be a bonnie pirate (I'm choosing this one, too, see below)
If I could be an athlete (Too broken for that)
If I could be a back-up dancer (Back-up, my ass. I want to be front & center!)
If I could be a midget stripper (Uhhhhh...)
If I could be a proctologist (ROFL! I knew it! See above!)
If I could be a TV talk show host (I'd put Oprah AND Jerry to shame.)
If I could be an actor (Does faking orgasms count?)
If I could be a Jedi (I'd be in prison. Too much power on too little patience)
If I could be a mob boss (Oh, yes, I have a hit list already. Might be good.)
If I could be a back-up singer (See above for my issues on "back up")
If I could be a CEO (This is like architect. My brain won't wrap around it.)
If I could be a movie reviewer (I'm choosing this one. See below.)
If I could be an astronaut (I'm a chick. We tend to blow up.).
If I could be a world famous blogger (Duh! I am already! AHAHAHAHA!)
If I could be a justice on any court in the world (Too much power, and I'm evil)
If I could be any current famous political figure (or married to one)I'd whack Bill's dick off and make him suck it himself. Or at least pretend to grow a spine and not let a man walk over me like his ~cough~ wife did.

Okay, now that I've gone through the list, here are my three:
1) If I could be a lawyer (attorney is such a better word), I'd be in contempt all the time for saying "I SO WAY object!" and from arguing with the judge to a nasty degree. (Seriously, this is why I didn't become one.)

2) If I could be a pirate, I'd latch my ship to The Black Pearl and use Capt. Jack Sparrow on a regular basis. He thinks he may walk funny NOW....

3)If I could be a movie reviewer, I'd be a real one and give a real review. As it is, if I read where a critic hated it, I usually love it. What's up with that anyway?

Okay, now I pick three. Hmm...be right back to update with those three. I decided to go with people you don't know at all, that have never posted here. Everyone else that's posted on the blog already has easy access from here, so I thought I'd toss you some of my friends who I haven't put on my blog links yet:

Becky

-My fashionista friend.

Dyniece

-My friend that got the implant

Patti

-My friend that devies description.

The Power of Words

I haven't posted as much lately. Sorry. I have a craft order that's looming over me with a deadline that's past me already. I just can't get this one item to work out for some ungodly reason. And in doing that, I've neglected all things writing, including the blog.

On my mind tonight is the topic of words. Obviously I feel that words are incredibly powerful, or I wouldn't be a writer. Nor, I suppose, would I have my profile line that I have up there. I do believe words can uplift, and at the same time, they can literally disembowel someone. It's up to us, the writer, to chose which words to apply, which words to say. We can move someone to tears. We can create outbursts of laughter and make soda spew on a screen. And we have the wonderful ability as writers to delete, to do revisions and rewrites. We can kill someone off with their real name and it's okay, because we know it'll be changed in the next round of revisions.

But what about the words that are out there, the ones others have already seen typed and there's no going back? It's more powerful, I think, than saying the words that are heard rather than read. Reading is so intimate, so personal. Someone has taken the specific time to say something to you, so you know that whatever they're saying is important to them, worthy of their precious time. Sometimes in life, even as we type, we do have the ability to remove the words, like on a message board, or on a blog. Life chat doesn't provide that. Once it's out, it's out, and if you're in a chat ROOM, there's no telling how many people saw what you said and whom you said it to. That may seem like nothing to some of you out there, but my life is spent online. My friends are online friends. And yes, they're true friends, ones I speak with regularly on the phone, ones that we plan and meet up with. Those of you in my Austin group have met Shari, whom I originally met on Woman's Day forums. She planned it and came here, twice now, to visit me in person. She knows me. KNOWS me, my children, my life. She's not the only one, either. I cannot tell you the number of people I have met face to face when I originally knew them online first. My love included.

So yes, even online, the words hold the power, and they're important, and should be used carefully and with great, great thought behind them.

With the words comes tone. Some people are just really bad at expressing their tone online. I happen to be really good at it, but I think it's because I'm a born writer and I can convey emotion, feeling, my complete thought onto a screen. Not everyone has that ability, so one person may type something to another person, and the 2nd person takes the message completely different than it was intended. I've seen it happen time and again.

When I left Woman's Day, I had a very, very good friend that left with me. Several of us were tired of a particular twit that lives out in California and loved to tell vicious lies about me on a regular basis. We created our own community where WE could enforce rules, where WE could express feelings and opinions in a safe place where random members couldn't participate, and yes, even where WE could DELETE as we saw fit. It was beyond intimate, and we made a family out of it.

One day, I disagreed with what this friend was saying and doing, and I typed out a post that expressed my concerns. Immediately I knew (after re-reading it) that it didn't come across quite as I meant it, and deleted the post. She'd read it already, which I knew (it was to her and another girl at the time.) I immediately called both individuals to talk rather than type so that I knew no misunderstandings would occur. The 2nd girl understood what I was saying completely. The first, the one I first started typing about here, considered me dead.

For months, literally, I tried to make it work. Eventually, her animosity became so great that it caused divisions on our new, intimate message boards. There was a split. Some stuck by me, and some went with her. I lost a really good friend over words I typed. Over opinions I typed. I seriously thought our friendship would have lasted past fights or differences. Apparently the friendship wasn't as strong as I had thought. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her at least once, and January 10th was the one year anniversary of the split.

I've said this many times: I do not feel like you can hate someone unless you loved them first. Both of them, love and hate, are the most powerful of emotions, so I don't think it's too far off in thinking that there's a fine line that separates them. And in an instant, that love you feel can flip on you and your strong emotion changes shape and changes names and becomes this infection that just eats away at your soul.

This is particularly on my mind tonight as I watch two very dear friends have a battle of words. Both of them witnessed the incident I mentioned earlier. Both know what I went through over it. I having that knowledge, I can look at the two of them and see a new incident just waiting to happen. And I'm powerless to stop it, really. So I did what I do best: I wrote. To them. I reminded them of the pain of words, of the lack of removing the words from the memory of the one who read it, who it was intended for. I don't know if it will do any good, but since that's all I had, I had to use it. And I have the very distinct feeling that one is not realizing how hurtful her words were, and by the time she does, I can only pray it's not too late, and that hopefully she's not suddenly feeling what I felt a year and a 1/2 ago.

Regret is one of the worst emotions in the world. I think I could handle dealing with hate more than I could regret. As much as I hated Jon (dead ex), I never really regretted anything. As much as I hated the rift between my friend and me, I didn't regret it because I knew I was right and that she very much over-reacted. Regret is what I think of when someone is dying, because when you get to regret, it's too late. It's too final. There's no turning back. There's no making it right. It just...is.

Of all the emotions, out of the rainbow of feelings we humans have been given, I think there is not one that is sadder, not one that's more tragic, than that one: Regret.

Time does heal wounds, as we all well know. But the scars...sometimes they remain forever, regardless of the pain fading away.

I'm such a survivor

So two daughters with two birthdays in one weekend.

If that's not a recipe for disaster, I don't know what is. Oh, 'cept maybe rain pouring down on your youngest daughter's first ever party at CITY PARK!

So the 4 yr old turned 5 on Wednesday. This year was the first year she had the opportunity to have people at her party besides us and my parents. She's in Pre-K this year, and has 20 kids in her class. So instead of celebrating it on Wed with a party, my parents came down from DFW and we went to dinner where they sang for both Syd Vicious and Carly. Carly's birthday was Friday, one of the rare times she can have her party on her actual birthday. She had 8 come over: 6 girls and 2 boys. We ordered 6 pizzas, and had games out the butt. Egg toss was a bit too easy on the grass, so I moved them to the street. It was messy but it was fun. And then, in the middle of the games, four kids from the neighborhood that Car used to hang with walked down the sidewalk, up to what was obviously a party they had not been invited to.

~sigh~

So we invite them to join along. Then we go back inside for Carly to open her gifts. We invited those four girls to help themselves to pizza. They sat around eating and watched Carly opening gifts. I'm sure they felt awkward, but they ended up winning a couple of the games, and I had extra treatbags, so they didn't go away empty-handed. After those four left, I thanked all the kids for being so nice and welcoming into the party and making them feel like part of the group. I was quite proud and impressed.

The two boys were SMOOTH. One gave Car two pink monkeys that magnetically hug each other. The other boy gave her a stuffed dog dressed in a "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" outfit, with a necklace and bracelet on for Car to wear. B and I were impressed. I already like that boy TONS.

Then the two boys left, and the six girls invaded Carly's room for the sleep-over. Shan applied her high school skills in a make-over session. All went well until the young girls thought they could remove eye make up with toner. Oy.

They stayed up until 4am. (I crashed around 1am) By 10am, the first mothers were showing up, so I dragged my butt outta bed. I woke up to rain. Great.

By 11 the last girl was gone, my house is a mess, and for Syd's party that was supposed to start at 1:30 at city park, I'd put our home as the "in case of rain" location. My house is trashed from one party, and I have to whip it into shape for the 20 possible invites showing up of 4-5 yr olds WITH THEIR MOTHERS. And we mothers totally and completely check out other mother's homes. Fabulous.

When God finished His deep belly laughter, He allowed the sun to come out and dried up the area. With glee, I announced the party was back on for City Park. I was saved!!!

Syd's party turned out great. She got a lot of good stuff, and the kids were so well behaved. She had a pinata, the kids feasted on cake (I get 1/2 chocolate and 1/2 vanilla) and vanilla ice cream. We had grape soda, red soda, orange soda, and Sprite. It was a sugar-fest extreme. Syd was happy.

We hauled home her loot and decided to head out to the drive-in movies to make it just this huge event weekend. They were playing SAHARA.

Oh. My. Gosh.

Freakin' FABULOUS movie!!!! I'm buying it the moment it hits the stores. Absolutely not one moment lacking extreme action. As a writer, I appreciated the high concept and the absolute torture to the characters, where everything that can go wrong DID go wrong. If you're looking for a movie up there with INDIANA JONES (the original), you'll love this one. I know I did.

On the writing front: I'm 1/2 way through Stephen King's ON WRITING and I'm enjoying it tons and tons. I also picked up a Harlequin American today, because at The Merritt, the editor of the line said they're looking for a lot of new writers. May as well read one to see if I can do it, right? Right. We'll see. I started an online (email interactive) synopsis class for the month of May. This means two things:

1) Yes, another loop and a crapload of additional emails.
2) More info on synopses. I swear one day I'll be able to give classes on these things. I'm absorbing as much on them as I can.

As for Nationals, I'm still looking for orders, trying to earn more money to cover the registration fee. ~sigh~ In the meantime, I'm finishing up four aprons and four angel jars someone ordered, hopefully to be mailed out no later than Tuesday. I prefer doing afghans to the other crafts, because I can do those in the living room with my family while watching TV, rather than stuck in the craft room by myself. But, a job is a job and any money earned to get me to Nationals is SO worth it.

Exciting news: I emailed with Jodi Thomas this weekend. She remembered me from Nationals last year, but after helping this newbie the first day, we never ran into each other again. In the last year since I met her, I picked up her novel FINDING MARY BLAINE, which was wonderful!! I emailed her and she is coming to Reno, and she said that hopefully we'll be able to set at the same table for one of the luncheons this year to get caught up.

I also "talked" with Lisa Gardner, and I'm too upset that she's not making it to Reno this year. She is such a talent, and such a wonderful person. And of course, I owe her tons, not just for being an inspiration to me as a suspense writer, but also for her fabulous insight on synopses!

Now, if only I can get ahold of Janet Chapman again. I met her last year and she was so nice and I like her so much. She wrote THE SEDUCTIVE IMPOSTER, one of my all time favs, and now out is the sister, Willow, book. I'm hoping to grab it up soon. In the meantime, I just gotta stalk Janet down and see if she's planning on Nationals or not.

So there ya go. I'm tired again just from writing this all out. Nothing dramatic, nothing sensational. Just boring ol' Mom kind of stuff. Now I'm off to watch Blade Trinity and crochet on one of the National afghans.

~g'night my freaky darlings~