Archive for July, 2006

The Restorative Value of Margaritas

Thank God it’s Friday! she said with delight
as the blender worked its magic
Honey, what are your plans for tonight?
Me, I’m drinking and flashing.

Flashing! He said, his forehead askew
Didn’t I tell you about that?
The last time you did it was that evil brew
And I will no longer stand for it!

Not to worry, you silly man
That’s not the kind of flashing I meant
I’m meeting my friends because I can
So don’t get your nose all bent

We write a story in under an hour
While we drink martinis or margaritas
Then once we’re done, we critique our wares
It’s better than sitting outside with the mosquitos!

He kissed his wife and smiled sweetly
Well in that case have a good time
I’m watching wrestling, though I’m defeated
by how it’s turned so nickel and dime.


Woo hoo!

I got a job a work at home job today, and not just any old work at home job, I will be getting paid to watch As The World Turns and run a website about it with recaps of the show, profiles of the stars, polls, forums, etc.

My grandma is dancing in heaven right now. As The World Turns was her favorite soap! :)

But I’ll be scarce on my blog for at least the rest of this week. Between training for this glamorous position and getting Giggle Water Review ready to go live in early August, I am going to be one very busy gal!

Another great resource

Below is an excerpt from the Advice on Writing section of Lawrence Watts Evans’ website. Even though he’s a fantasy writer, he has a whole bunch of helpful information that applies to all writers.

“Beginning writers often want to know what the hard and fast rules are, the rules they simply must follow. Sometimes writing teachers and books of advice even provide them with rules, which they then get obsessive about.


There are no hard-and-fast rules in writing. There are guidelines and suggestions.

If you call them guidelines and suggestions, beginners will often decide to ignore them — “they’re just suggestions.”

If you call them rules, beginners will obsess foolishly about them. “I can’t do that; it’s against the rules!”

It’s a no-win situation for advisors, and feeds my conviction that many beginning writers are simply determined to worry about all the wrong things in order to avoid looking at the true situation and acknowledging how simple, and how difficult, writing professionally is.”

Chicken today and feathers tomorrow

That’s what my daddy used to say. And this writing life fits this old country saying to a tee. You can go for weeks and not hear a word, your inbox,  your mailbox, silently taunting you, and then BOOM, a slew of rejections, or in this case, good news!

I received my copy of The Sword Review in the mail yesterday. I have a flash fiction piece in there. But what was so very cool about it is that on the cover, a few spaces down from the other stories listed inside, it said, “Bonus! Print version only!” with my story and name listed. When I opened the book, my story was the first one. It made me feel special, and boy don’t we writers love and need to feel special every now and then.

I also got two request for the full manuscript of my novel from agents and a contract for a poem I’ve had accepted in an anthology called “Susan B and Me” coming out in the fall. All of this on the heels of my granddaughter’s birth. And on top of that, my husband got a big raise at work.

So yep, my daddy was right, it’s chicken today. I guess I better get my appetite whet (sp?) for some feathers. :)

Life is good.

I’ve had a really good week. For those of you who know me personally, you know what a horrid year this has been, and it has nothing to do with my writing.

But things are looking better than they have since April 1st of last year. For one, and the big one, is that Lucille Grace, my new redheaded granddaughter, finallly ‘graced’ the world with her presence on Monday, July 10th. At approximately 6 p.m. Texas time, Lucy showed up weighed in at a little over 8 lbs, but only after a fierce determination to stay where it was nice and cozy. Can you blame her?

I can’t stop smiling.

And speaking of smiling, that rare occurrence has been happening to me more and more often, I even wrote a poem about it. One of the other reasons I am smiling this week is because I am getting so many damned good submissions to Giggle Water Review. This is sooooo exciting, the whole process is making me feel more alive and proud to be a writer.

The reading I’ve been doing, the short story collections, is finally starting to work the magic I’d hoped it would. I am inspired to start what I consider my first REAL short story tonight. I want to make everything that I’ve written before this look like piecemeal.

Nothing like a good challenge.

And speaking of challenges, isn’t marriage wonderful?

I’m joking, my hubby is adorable, a good looking hard working man.

Like I said, life is good. I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend~

There’s a ton of information here

Check out this site I ran across today! I perused the pages for a little while, and it looks to be a goldmine, especially for beginning writers.

Happy reading!

Just For Fun

“Welcome, welcome ladies and gentleman and top o’ the mornin’ to ya! We are so happy to have discerning bugs like you at Insect Village today!”

The centipede tour guide shouted his good-humor spiel to the prospect buyers gathered at the entrance of the most exclusive bug community in Flowerville. “Junior, don’t eat that, it’s decoration,” Mrs. Pill Bug whispered to her son, who was nibbling on a pink hibiscus.

“But Mooooom, I’m hungry!” Junior whined.

“You’re always hungry. Just hang on. They’re having a garbage buffet as soon as the tour is over.”

“Aaah, leave him alone,” Dad Pill Bug told his wife, “for what these burrows probably cost, he can eat all the flowers he wants.”

“Harold, I’m trying to teach the child some manners, for Bug’s sake!”

Junior rolled into a ball of delight. He loved it when his dad took up for him.

The Pill Bug family shuffled along behind Mr. and Mrs. Ant and their army of children as the tour guide continued his sales pitch.

“If you’ll look to your right, you’ll see our fully equipped, state-of-the-art bug gym and family rec room.”

The centipede tour guide was dressed to the nines. He wore a black top hat and bow tie. “Insect Village’s expansion plan includes a sink-size heated pool with a sauna for you grown-ups, and for the kiddies,” he smiled at Junior and the ant children, “a coffee-cup-size wadding pool!”

“Ooh, this is going to be marvelous!” Mrs. Pill Bug exclaimed to her husband, adjusting her pillbox hat.

“Marvelous, smarvelous, all I care about is the size of my office!” Harold stuck his nose in the air and puffed out his belly as he spouted, “A writer needs his space you know.”

The tour guide couldn’t help but overhear Mr. Pill Bug. “Oooh, you are a writer!” He smoozed, “How fascinating! What a wonderful addition you would make to Insect Village. What do you write, if I may ask?”

“Oh, this and that. I’m working on a novel at the present. A story about the plight of the human. It’s a comedy.”

Then Harold, who had very little tact, blurted out, “How much do these burrows cost anyway?”

The centipede tour guide said, clearly ruffled, “Sir, our tour includes a garbage buffet and speech from our owner, Mrs. Lady Bug, who will go over all the financial details.”

Mrs. Pill Bug cringed at her husband’s lack of social skills and tried to carouse Junior, who was now eating a purple crocus. Sometimes she wondered why she’d married this pompous-ass bug and sired such an unruly child.

“Just spit it out, you friggin centipede!” Harold Pill Bug shouted at the tour guide. (he’d been drinking a bit, unbeknownst to his wife, but the stress of writing and having a family was really getting to him.)

The rest of the bugs grew silent. They too wanted to know the price but were embarrassed to ask. They all stood waiting for the centipede tour guide’s answer.

“Sir,” the tour guide said to Harold, knowing this was something he’d have to deal with now or lose his crowd. “Our prices are very competitive. Bug City charges 70 hours of labor a week, but here at Insect Village our price is only 50 hours.”

He scanned the crowd, “that’s a substantial savings. And Bug City doesn’t even have a pool!”

“Forget this,” Harold Pill Bug snorted, turning to his wife and son, “let’s go. We don’t have to pay a thing at my mother’s.”

Mrs. Pill Bug was in almost in tears. Dear Bug, would she ever escape her mother-in-law’s ratty burrow?!

“But Daaaad! What about the free buffet?” Junior whined.

“Chill out. We’ll stop at McDonald’s dumpster on the way home.”