Losing it

Okay, so I'll try to be professional here. Earlier this week, I received a rejection letter from Harlequin. My first thought was "well, that's pants, screw them" and all of those other lovely things that run through one's head when rejected. Then I thought back... to how Harlequin was my first real love affair with books; to how Temptations taught me most of what I knew about sexuality as a teen; to Jennifer Crusie's Temptations, the Nora Roberts cross line stories, and finally the last bright spots in my supermarket book shopping: NEXT and Bombshells. Then I smiled and thought "eh, maybe someday I'll submit to them again -- but I'm definitely shopping for HAUNTED ECHOES tonight".

Now, earlier today, the axe drops. Bombshells are gone. Kaput -- the GrailKeepers, Evelyn Vauhgn, Cindy Dees, Ellen Henderson -- the vamps, the fighters, the CIA heroines -- all the chicklit on steroids heroines out there. The idea that HEA isn't always the goal. All gone. If they go after the NEXT line -- well, that won't be the only thing gone.

Chasing the Muse -- or running from it

It's Sunday afternoon, I've: taken a 90 minute bubble bath, watched way too much VH-1, chatted online with everyone I can think of, researched stuff for other people's stories and written 3 pages. Yep, three... I'm a disgrace.

So, to chase down, spear and capture my slut of a muse (as the Nora calls her in this month's rwa mag), I went for a hike. Uh huh, got you there, didn't I? A hike, as in me, the woods and my digital. Sadly not even mother nature could give me a sharp enough kick in the ass that I would revisit Callie today, but I did find a hidden treasure (and no, not the scratch marks burning on my calves right now):

Yes kids, it's berry season. Actually I knew that, but had long forgotten we had vines. Hey, it's 16 acres of wilderness here kids. So, I didn't get inspired, but I did find a new source of procrastination -- the idea that in a few weeks, fresh berries which equals pie, cobblers, oh my! Off to search for recipes... maybe Callie cooks -- who knows?

Strength through the ages

So I've been reliving my childhood by watching the She-Ra dvds. I won't bore you with my fandom, but I do want to talk about the power behind them. I mentioned to a friend last night that I cried when I watched them -- and he so didn't believe me. I think the problem was that I couldn't explain why they touched me. Sure part of it is losing that child who played She-Ra at recess and sorted the cute boys into the parts of He-Man (he may have been her brother, but come on, they spent a lot of time together, I wasn't stupid) and Bow. But, I think it's more than that.

Did you know She-Ra's name was supposed to be Hera? That's right, She-Ra was conceived of a goddess-- She Ra -- the Egyptian god. Girl-god... which trails right into goddess worship.

I've been reading Evelyn Vaughn's stuff lately. She writes a series on Goddess Grails and contributes to a series about Madonna's -- the Sisters of Mary's, Marians.
Strong women who die for what they stand for. I think of all the injustice out there -- arranged marriages for little girls, twelve year-olds being sold to dirty old men who crave the taste of virgin flesh-- may they rot in a festering hell; female circumcision, often performed by the "wise women", these ignorant hags who mutilate the flesh, scarring both the soul and body. Is ending this worth dying for, is it worth killing for; at the least isn't it worth me getting off my ass and doing something?

For the Honor of Grayskull...

Okay, so I just glossed over the She-Ra thing. Not possible. I mean, really, it's motherfucking She-Ra... The same heroine who stands watch over me from her collector's shelf as I write each heroine. The same She-Ra I block out my scenes by talking to. Yes, Virginia, I really do say "okay, Adora, should she blow him in the second act or wait until the third?" Well, not really, because my heroines always get a bit in the first act -- life's too short to wait. Or maybe they're just sluts. Whatever -- the point is that my all time favorite cartoon is coming to DVD. No more rerunning the lame-ass Christmas special and reminiscing about what a pussy Skeletor could be. Now, I'll get to relive my youth, watch Adora kiss Bow and remember thinking "what the hell? He has facial hair!" to this day, i still distrust a man with a mustache.
Anyway... I HAVE THE POWER!!!!!! (Or will have next week)

One month -- and a day (sort of)

Subject says it all. I have never been a woman of patience and this is more than I can take. I wonder sometimes if it's worth it -- after all, I'm just waiting on an acceptance to send a partial. A partial! What the hell? My nails are already bitten off -- what's next?
Hmm.. maybe frustration will lead to increased flexibility and I'll start biting my toes... could be an upside, I've always wanted to be bendy.
On the plus side? She-Ra comes out on DVD on the 19th! Woo-hoo!!!
Maybe I'll have reason by then to buy it in celebration. (as if I need a reason to shop)

Sigh...

So the query's been out for two weeks, and this is the part where I get nervous. Only I'm not so nervous that they'll reject it as I am scared to death that they'll want a partial. I mean, is it partial-worthy? Sure I can write a great tag-line, but that's marketing, not writing and we all know my poly sci days made me a kick-ass con artist. Hell I'm practically a Dempsey (see Crusie, J "Faking It" for further information). But come on, is it worth it? Is Ex Hex something I'd actually shell out 4.95 for? (or whatever) Hell, I dunno. Some days, I think back on it and BAM! I'm so in love with Ronnie and Ryan that I want to be in a polyamorous relationship with them.
Then there are the days, I think "well, the opening's weak" or "will the readers accept that the black moment is simply a fight over NOTHING?"-- that is that the whole crux of the book is buried under day to day bullshit that often gets in the way of falling in love? Or what about the fact that the protagonist is also the antagonist? Hell, even bridget jones had what's her name who slept with Darcy... Ronnie only has Ronnie and her neuroses.
Then I read it, and I think "eh, maybe... just maybe" and that gets me through the day.
And then I flip over to TRR and think... didn't I used to be a reviewer? (Sorry Dede, I promise, the next one's on it's way by end of the week!)

Action!

Well, I just returned from the post office. My query is on its way to the amazing Ms. Scheibling at Harlequin, who hopefully will fall head over ass in love w/Veronica, Ryan and Iron Springs.
In the immortal words of Filbert, "I'm nauseous" (see Rocko's Modern Life for the refernce -- please). I don't think I realized just how much this meant to me until I sealed the mailer. I swear I almost tossed my cookies on the guy in line behind me. Which would've been really rude, since he'd been super patient whilst I figured out return international postage coupons (?). Well, sort of figured them out...
Here's to a hopefully short wait...

How I write... Or don't write, such as it is

I've been musing over the "craft" of writing (read: procrastinating) and whether I'm doing it right. See, my theory is that anything that produces results is good. Sounds simple, eh? Well, that means that sometimes, I take a 30 minute chunk of time, open up a file and purge myself onto the page. The problem with this is that since I'm a linear thinker, I'm a linear writer. Great for problem solving, not so great for capturing scenes.
One of my favorite authors, Jennifer Crusie, writes in scenes. She has these amazing, witty captivating scenes (that don't overuse adverbs) that she then strings together and uses to make magic. Me? I try that and I seem like a mental patient who forgot her meds writing her life story. Truly, it's sad.
The other drawback to being a linear writer (and arrogant person) is that I HATE revisions. I've written the damned thing once -- why do it again? Spell check the bastard, do a quick runthrough to make sure the details are in place (i.e. the heroine's father hasn't suddenly changed his name from Eric to Adam on page 83 -- strange things seem to happen on 83) and I'm good to go. This could explain why I'm not published (well, this and my failure to write a query letter and actually submit things -- but laziness is another topic).
There's no real point to this ramble, I'm not going to change, even though I'd like to. Nope, instead I have all of these amazing scenes -- stuff that makes you laugh, cry and worry about my sanity-- that will just sit unused in files marked "Skylar mob scene" or "eichen vanquish" (don't ask). Maybe someday I'll learn how to write as if I'm quilting (something else I can't do). But for now, I'll plod along, filling thirty minutes of page space with tedious details, a fourth of which will be cut. But at least this way, I have an end in sight.

I'm so going to hell...

So, I went browsing yahoo personals tonight. Nope, I'm not looking for a date. I've actually dated someone I met online... and really don't want to do it again. But that's a post for another time.
Anyway, I wasn't there to shop, but to snark. Some of these "guys" are so desperate and so icky, but what about the ones who aren't?
There are some of them, and you know from their picture and what they write that they really aren't just trying to get laid. And that's the sad part. These are decent guys (some of them) who are really putting themselves out there. Let me clarify, most of these guys aren't cute, they make way less than I do and probably barely finished high school. But really, when you think about it, shouldn't they be commended? They're trying. And I think that's what gets to me. Okay, so they aren't trying the best possible method, but they are trying. They're the ones opening themselves up to the ridicule, the jokes and come on, it's a small town, the persecution. But isn't that a form of bravery in and of itself?
Maybe, but I'm still going to snicker a bit inside every time I pass one of them on the street.