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January 29, 2005
There Once Was A Lady From Nantucket...
Lani, feeling really lame...
I got nothing. I'm sorry. I've been in my office writing all day, trying to get a proposal for the next book in to my editor on time, and the well hath run dry. I thought if I just sort of came here and started babbling, I might come up with something interesting or funny, but so far... not so much.
Well, what did I expect, really? It was a bad plan. This is actually beginning to be painful, like those horrible dreams where you're standing naked on a stage in front of an audience expecting you to quote Shakespeare only the only quote in your head is "There once was a lady from Nantucket..." and you're pretty sure ol' Will didn't write that.
Yeah. This is a little like that.
Wow. And still you clicked on the link to read the rest of this lameness. How sweet. How faithful you are.
I don't deserve you.
Really. You keep reading, but I have nothing for you. No funny quips, no butt-talking five-year-old stories, no sassy stories from my misspent youth. Not even a choppy thought.
Oooh. Except... oh, wait... I might have something.... let me just check...
Oh! I found it! An unpublished short story I wrote ages ago and which probably sucks, but what the hell. After exhibiting that kind of faith, you've earned a hastily-written, previously unpublished crap short story.
So... here you go... and remember, aside from the editors who rejected it, only Literary Chick visitors will get to see this piece of junk. Feel special.
By: Lani Diane Rich
It’s not that I don’t like her. It’s not that she makes me uncomfortable. She’s pretty, and polite. I don’t think my son could have done better. Well, of course he could have, Jake is a fine boy. But you know what I mean.
It’s just that she’s so bright. And when I say bright, I don’t mean bright like intelligent – although she’s smart enough. She did pick Jake. But no, I guess I mean bright like loud. When she’s around my retinas ache.
I don’t know much what I’m trying to say, really. But it’s not that I don’t like her. It’s just that when I think about the wedding, I crave a gin and tonic. That’s all.
She hates me. I know it, I feel it in my bones, the woman hates me. Jake says no, no, no, she’s fine with you. And she is fine with me. Her lips get all thin and tight and she tends to squint when I walk in a room, but she’s fine with me.
For the most part.
I wish I’d just followed my instincts when Jake brought me home to meet them last Thanksgiving. I said no, I don’t want to do it on the dining room table. It’s rude. And what if they come back? But he got all worked up and started kissing my neck. They’re at church. They’ll be gone for hours. C’mon baby, I’m so hot, blah blah blah. And then the very second my panties hit the floor, in they walk.
See, that’s why you should always follow your instincts. Because if you don’t, your future mother-in-law will see your panties on her dining room floor, and that doesn’t make a great first impression.
She and Jake came over today. They seemed happy enough, although there was some tension when Jake forgot the name of the girl who’s going to be the maid of honor. She didn’t make a big deal out of it, but there was definite tension.
But what couple doesn’t have tension? George and I don’t, but we’ve been married for so long now. We’ve just ironed it all out. God knows it takes time.
There were a few awkward moments when Jake and his dad went into the garage to find the title for the Toyota – we’re giving it to them, we really don’t need the extra car anymore now that Olivia is off at college – and she and I were alone in the room together.
“I think you’ll look very pretty in that wedding dress you chose,” I said.
“Thank you,” she said.
“And I think it’s just fine that it’s not white.”
“Thank you.”
Then we both stared at the door to the garage for a while. It wasn’t a good idea to send Jake into the garage with his father. They could be hours.
“Would you like a gin and tonic?” I asked.
“Yes. Please.”
I had just handed her the drink when Jake and his father came back. Jake gave her a strange look and walked over to stand next to her.
“Honey,” he said. He was speaking softly, but I could still hear him. “It’s eleven in the morning.”
She thinks it’s fine that my dress isn’t white. I knew we should have gone to Vegas. We should have just gone to Vegas and gotten married and let everyone get all pissy after the fact. They’d get over it.
And I could wear whatever damn color dress I wanted.
She didn’t mean anything by it, Jake said. She’s just uncomfortable, trying to be nice. Yeah, well, I said, she wouldn’t have to try so hard to be nice if she’d never seen my panties lying on her dining room floor, and Jake threw his hands up in the air. Are you ever going to get over that? he asked.
Probably someday. But not in the foreseeable future.
The woman does know how to make a gin and tonic, though. I’ll give her that.
We should invite them to dinner, I said as I leaned over to turn off the light. I’ll cook.
You can’t cook, he said.
I can cook. I’ll cook. It’ll be fine. I’ll just drink a lot of wine, and it’ll be just fine.
They have invited us over for dinner. We have to go. There’s no way around it. I’ll just have a drink before we go. Maybe a couple of drinks. The more drinks I have, the less my retinas will hurt.
“You know, Mom,” Olivia said on the phone, “you’re going to have to learn to like her. She’s going to be part of the family now.”
“It’s not that I don’t like her.” And that was the truth.
“It’s just that she’s too bright,” Olivia said.
“Yes,” I said. “Exactly. Can we fly you up here early, and you can go with us?”
“I have finals.”
“Fail them.” I was half-serious. “We’ll pay for an extra semester of college.”
Olivia laughed. “Just have a few drinks and remember that Jake loves her, and you’re going to have to find a way to live with her.”
I don’t understand how a child of nineteen can have such tremendous wisdom when it comes to my life, and yet doesn’t recognize how off-putting a tongue piercing is.
George sat down in bed and put his hand on my breast. I picked it up and put it gently back on his stomach. He sighed. “Too tense?”
I nodded. He shrugged and reached for the remote control. “I’ll be glad when this damn wedding is over.”
I stood helpless in the kitchen, talking to myself. I can’t cook. I can’t cook. What was I thinking, asking them to dinner, telling them I’d cook? The pasta is all sticky and the chicken is dry and there isn’t enough wine in the world to make that bundt cake look like anything other than a run-over poodle.
When Jake came home from work, I was sitting on the kitchen floor, crying, my legs splayed out with my hand resting on the neck of the bottle of wine I’d almost finished. His parents were due in twenty minutes. It wasn’t looking good.
He picked me up by my armpits, told me to take a shower and get ready, he’d run out someplace and get some decent take-out. It doesn’t matter if you cook, he said. They’re gonna love you anyway.
They’re gonna hate me anyway, I said. I went upstairs and got in the shower, and Jake left to get take-out, saying he’d put a note on the door for his parents to let themselves in.
They weren’t there. They’d left a note on the door for us to let ourselves in, so we did. It smelled like something had been burning in the kitchen. They were probably getting take-out. We let ourselves in and sat down at the dining room table. I accidentally knocked into the table and the bud vase almost tipped over.
“How many of those drinks did you have?” George asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Five.”
His eyebrows raised up high. “Five. You’re serious?”
“Yes.” I gave him my special smile. “But I’m not tense.”
George smiled back, and I remembered our first place together, and how we would sit at the dining room table and talk and laugh and drink wine. Of course, we were married before we ever lived together. I was never bright like Jake’s girl.
It took me a while to dry my hair and feel presentable. Jake was probably already down there with them anyway, so I took my time. If I wasn’t going to cook, at least I was going to look nice. I even chose my cream-colored dress. I figured she’d appreciate seeing me in white at least once.
I heard some movement in the dining room, but no talking. That should have tipped me off, but the I was still time-delayed from the wine. Then I turned the corner from the living room into the dining room and saw my future in-laws on my dining room table. I didn’t process what I was seeing until something white caught the corner of my eye. I looked down and focused.
My future mother-in-law’s underwear was lying on my dining room floor.
They gasped and shuffled when they saw me and I fled into the living room and sat on the couch. I was alone there for about five minutes and then they came in, holding hands like a couple of teenagers, their faces flushed and damned if she didn’t stumble a bit.
She’d been drinking. That explained a lot.
I couldn’t look at them. I stared at my hands, wringing my fingers, desperately trying to come up with something to say. But, I’ll tell you, it’s tough to come up with witty repartee when you’ve just seen your future in-laws getting busy on your dining room table.
Suddenly I understood that it wasn’t that she hated me. It was never that she hated me. It was just that she had the image of me and her son on her dining room table burned into her retinas. Now it all made sense.
He started to laugh. It was a deep laugh, and her tinkling giggle complemented it perfectly, like a waterfall in a cavern. I looked at them, their faces red and their hair a little mussed, and let loose. We laughed hard, each of us riding it in waves, one stopping and then the other starting up again, getting all of us rolling again. My sides hurt. Tears stained my cheeks, ruining my mascara, but I didn’t care.
Everything was gonna be all right.
Jake came in and saw us all laughing. I think he was surprised. I think all of us were. She got up and helped him with the take-out, never saying a word about walking in on us on the dining room table. They served us dinner and we drank and ate and laughed and before we knew it, it was eleven o’clock and time to go home. I hugged her on my way out the door and it felt good. Genuine.
Everything was going to be okay.
On the ride home, George put his hand on my knee and squeezed it.
“Well, you’re gonna have to like her now,” he said with a chuckle. “She’s got something on us.”
“I like her fine.”
“Oh, yeah?” I could see him steal a glance as he turned the car onto our street. “How are your retinas?”
I smiled and put my hand on his. “They’ve never been better.”
And that was the truth.
copyright 2005 Lani Diane Rich. No part of this may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express written permission of the author.
Thank you for believing in me! Hope it was worth the click of the faithful!
Posted by Lani at 4:00 PM | Comments (7)
January 28, 2005
Beans!
From Michelle, a bit late...
Just before Christmas Teenager #2 came home with some beans. No, not the Jack and the Beanstalk, go out to sell a cow and come back with magic beans kind of beans, but the kind of beans you have to grow for the purposes of a mysterious school science project.
So anyway, he put a layer of cotton pads in the bottom of the jar, added the beans, put more cotton pads on top and added water to the mix.
Unfortunately, the beans died. It could be because we all forgot about them and didn't water them...
So anyway, he wasn't the only one whose beans died, so the science teacher gave out more beans.
This time we made sure to nurture the beans. Were they getting enough water and sunshine? Were they in a draft? This time we worried about the beans. We even named them and spoke to them to encourage them a bit.
So anyway, two of the beans have sprouted and, I have to say, are looking pretty damn good.
"When do you have to take them into school?" I asked Teenager #2 the other day.
"Um, were not doing that project any more. We can let the beans die now," he callously informed me.
But I've given them names!
Michelle, off to water Bill and Ben
Posted by Michelle at 2:02 AM | Comments (0)
January 26, 2005
Butt Language
Lani, forgetting it's Wednesday...
Hey. Wow. It's Wednesday. I forgot. Which wouldn't be a big deal if, you know, Wednesday wasn't my blogging day. So now, at the very last minute, I'm going to do something for which my five-year-old, Sweetness, will surely resent me when she's older.
I'm going to transcribe the conversation I just had with her...
S: I can't brush my teeth.
L: And why not?
S: Because my butt won't let me.
L: (hiding smile) Oh. Really? Well, what does your butt have to do with it?
S: It won't let me.
L: Okay. Maybe you can tell your butt that you need to brush your teeth, and really it should just stay out of it.
S: Okay. (glancing over her shoulder and south) Hey. Butt. Stay out of it.(Moment of silence; Sweetness looks back at me.) I don't think my butt understands. We're not talking butt language.
L: (almost exploding with laughter) Oh. Really. Should we fart out a message in Morse Code then?
(Me, breaking down laughing hysterically at my own joke, whilst my poor, darling Sweetness cries.)
S: I don't like it when you laugh at me! Don't laugh at me!
And thus, the mother-daughter dynamic begins in my family. Can't wait to see what happens with Light.
Posted by Lani at 8:36 PM | Comments (5)
January 25, 2005
Birthdays and Nursing Bras
Alesia, from birthday party central...
Today is my darling daughter’s fifth birthday. Since she is, in my totally unbiased opinion, the most beautiful and special five-year old on the planet, I would post a picture of her in her birthday dress if I could just figure out how to download the digital camera . . . But since we all know about my techno-challenged state, and many of you probably have your own ‘most beautiful and special five-year old on the planet,’ I’ll just share a few snapshots of the verbal kind.
We had her birthday dinner out last night, since tonight is Cub Scouts, and she wore her new red velvet and lace dress and her black patent leather shoes. Every person in the entire restaurant told her how beautiful she looked. Her response? “I know.”
Ah, to have that kind of confidence . . .
(yes, we’re working on ‘we say thank you when somebody compliments us; now she says “I know. Thank you.” Sigh. At least it’s a LITTLE progress.)
This morning Mommy, who is still on deadline and a little frazzed from being up till midnight doing cupcakes (Navy Guy did the Goody Bags, using his engineering precision to mathematically calculate exact numbers of equal sized and shaped candies in each bag. Don’t ask), had to field a few questions:
Lauren: Am I much taller than I was last night?
Me: Yes, much taller.
Lauren: Did you ever know you’d have such a grown-up daughter back when I was only 4?
Me: I could only hope.
Lauren: You can still hug me now that I’m a big girl.
Me: Bursts into tears.
This is a very real phenomenon in my house; the ‘O God, I’m never going to have a baby again.’ Every birthday, I think that maybe ONE more teensy little baby wouldn’t be a bad idea . . . Then I see or talk to my friends who are pregnant or have newborns, and I remember the nausea, the up-all-night feedings, and the hellbane of my existence: NURSING BRAS.
But, just for that moment, as I watched her sleep last night and realized that I’d never kiss my four-year old good night again, I thought about it. Maybe just one teensy tiny baby wouldn't be so hard . . .
With my luck, I'd have triplets. I'm guessing I'm done with the baby thing. But I'll probably cry when she turns six, too. It's the Mommy way.
Hugs,
Alesia, off to buy punch and ice cream for the party
Posted by Alesia at 10:28 AM | Comments (7)
January 24, 2005
The Window, The Supermarket and The Courier
From Michelle, particularly paranoid in Rotterdam...
So there we were the other morning at 5am, fast asleep in our beds as people are wont to be at that time of day, casually dreaming our own dreams, not bothering anyone, when, all of a sudden, there was this Godalmighty crash...
Was it that horrible, nasty evil spammer breaking into the apartment to really steal my identity, I thought? Of course not, because that would be really paranoid of me.
Or was it a burglar smashing in through a window? If so, he or she would have to abseil from the roof because we are on the fifth floor, which makes this an unlikely entry point into our apartment.
So I leaped out of bed and went to investigate...
THE WINDOW
Teenager #2 likes to sleep with his window open. Since we moved into our new apartment two months ago, he's had the window open every single night.
Anyway, it soon became evident that a gust of wind had grabbed hold of the window and slammed it against the wall. Result: a big hole in the window. In fact, such a big hole that there wasn't any window left.
Fortunately, the glass all smashed outwards and downwards. Also fortunately, because of the time of day, it didn't injure any innocent neighbors. See, Teenager #2's room is directly above the main entrance.
Teenager #2, in the manner of teenagers the world over, slept soundly through all this noise...
So anyway, because it was too early to report the accident to Bob, the apartment block manager, who lives downstairs, and also because it was dangerous to leave all that shattered glass down by the main entrance (especially as many people in my block have dogs that need to be walked--couldn't bear the thought of a nasty cut paw), there I was at the crack of dawn with a large broom and a bag clearing it all up. Oh Patient One had a plane to London to catch, so it was me by myself.
Amidst all this glass clearance, my neighbors began to trickle out of the building on their way to work. They were all very interested to meet me and to find out what had happened. This is what they said when I told them the story of the Wind in the Window...
New Neighbor #1: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "I didn't know that. Thanks for the advice."
New Neighbor #2: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "Yes, New Neighbor #1 did mention that. I'll be sure to keep all windows on this side closed in the future."
New Neighbor #3: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "Really?"
And so it went on until...
New Neighbor #10: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "Wow. I won't make this mistake again in a hurry."
And then the wife of the apartment block manager, Mrs. Bob, came out to take her dog for a walk. She, too, wondered what happened, and so I told her.
Mrs. Bob: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "Um, I didn't know that, but I surely do now!"
So anyway, hours later, after clearing up all the shattered bits of glass (actually, it only took an hour but it felt like hours), I called Bob and he came up to inspect the damage.
Bob: "You know, it's dangerous to leave your windows open on this side of the building. The wind is always very strong."
Me: "Yes, so I hear. Don't worry, beacuse I'm going to use crazy glue to stick shut all of the windows on this side of the apartment. No, not really, just kidding..."
Bob: "The glazier will be around shortly to put in new glass."
Me: "Thank you!"
And an hour later the glazier arrived and fixed the window. He had obviously dealt with this apartment and its wind problem before. I am not going to repeat his wise piece of advice to me...
THE SUPERMARKET
So there I was the other day, innocently placing the items from my basket onto the conveyer belt, casually minding my own shopping when I got that strange feeling that someone was glaring at me. That someone, I was sure, was the older lady behind me in the line.
It couldn't be because I had a huge order and would take ages, because (on account of not having a car and doing supermarket shopping either on foot or by bike) I only had about 6 or 7 items. Had I stacked my shopping appropriately on the conveyer belt? Had I left superfluous space between the bread and the milk? This is a bit of a crime over here, because conveyer belts are quite small, and it is the shopper's responsibility to ensure that his/her shopping is well-behaved at all times. So I checked, then moved everything up a bit to make more room for the angry person behind me.
I could still feels waves of disapprobation rolling in my general direction as she (a) grabbed a divider bar and slapped it down on the conveyer belt (a-ha, so that's what I did wrong), and (b) slapped her two items onto the conveyer belt. Or was I just being totally paranoid and imagining it?
So, taking my courage in my hands, I turned around, and sure enough she was scowling ferociously at me. Obviously, by not placing the divider on the conveyer belt quickly enough, I had completely ruined her day!
For about half a second I faltered, and then do you know what I did? I gave her a big, friendly smile. And do you know what? She smiled right back...
THE COURIER
Just before Christmas I couriered the proof pages of my next book back to my publisher in Manhattan, and I also slipped in a couple of little prezzies for my editors. And because I worry about things like this, I did, in fact, tell the courier that I'd put in a couple of little prezzies. She told me not to worry, and so I didn't.
Later that day I got a call from the courier to say that (a) they had opened the packet for security reasons, and (b) if I wanted to send a couple of small prezzies with my 19 proof pages then it would be EEE (Euros) more to do so. So I coughed up the extra cash ($100 in total!)
Strongly suspect that the courier thought I was either (a) a drug baron, or (b) a porn magnate...
So this morning I received a packet from another publisher via the same courier. Inside was a copy of a manuscript I have agreed to read. The packet had been opened for security reasons, the rubber band had been removed from the manuscript, and EVERY SINGLE PAGE WAS OUT OF ORDER.
Strongly suspect the courier now thinks that the Manhattan editor is either (a) a drug baron, or (b) a porn magnate.
But that would just be totally paranoid of me, wouldn't it?
Bye for now!
Michelle
Posted by Michelle at 7:15 AM | Comments (4)
January 22, 2005
Hobo Cat
Lani, riding the convenient wave of coincidence...
Hey, all! Sorry to be so MIA. I spent last weekend at the hospital bedside of my eldest daughter, Sweetness, who'd had an "asthmatic episode" triggered by pneumonia. Poor kid. Whenever anything happens, it always happens to her. The 3 y.o., Light, however, is built like a Mack truck. I think she had a runny nose when she was 18 months old. Other than that, the kid never gets sick.
And how's this for coincidence?...
While we were in the hospital, and the doctor was telling me that since Sweetness might or might not have what might or might not be possibly asthma or an asthma-like disease (five thousand dollars a minute for a hospital bed, you'd think they'd be able to give you at least one straight answer), he also suggested that we get rid of our cat. Which, grand scheme, I was like, "Oh, yeah, absolutely, to the shelter with Tobey" because I don't love any animal more than I love my daughter's ability to take in oxygen. So, then I went home...
... and found the cat had run away. Apparently, while I was doing the steam-in-the-shower, outside-in-the-freezing-cold shock-the-lungs thing that they recommend you do, the cat picked up a stick, tied a bandanna to it, stuffed in a few odd toys and some Friskies, and hit the road, Jack.
Hmmm.
So, I'm telling my good friend and soon-to-be-published buddy Eileen Connell (hey, Eileen, get a website so I can link to ya, babe) about this turn of events yesterday and Eileen, who's known me for eleven years and is hence qualified to make such statements, says, "You know, stuff like that just happens to you."
I was like, "Huh? Whatchoo talking 'bout, Willis?"
And she starts in with the examples. When she and I worked together eons ago, our mutual boss was really insulting to me and I quit in a snit - this was back when I was single and had the luxury of doing such things "on principle." A small while later, an old boss got a hold of me and offered me my old job.
During my mid-twenties crisis, I broke up with Fish and moved from Arizona to New York. One day, about April-ish, I'd been walking down the street (you'll see this experience mirrored in Maybe Baby) and heard, clear as a bell, my married name in my head - although at that time I was still single and fairly certain I'd made the right decision in leaving Fish. I froze on the street, freaked out, and suddenly knew I'd made the hugest mistake of my life. A few days later, Fish called me from Arizona. He'd gotten bumped off a flight and had a free ticket from American Airlines, and he wanted me to come out and see him. I felt this was very stupid of him, and told him so. I'd freaked out, I'd left him, I'd moved 2000 miles away. Now he was going to give a free airline ticket (a big deal; mid-twenties=broke) to me? No way. I said no, that it was for his own good to forget me. He kept calling, and I kept saying no. Then, finally, hearing my married name in my head, I agreed. We got back together on that trip, and I think it's worked out pretty nicely for us.
I've been writing my whole life, but when I decided to take it seriously, I sent the first chapter of my book to a friend for a critique to help me prepare for the endless query-rejection-query someone else process. This friend recommended me to her agent. This agent signed me, and sold it to the best editor in existence anywhere, ever. (Please excuse my being biased.)
So, while at first I was a bit shocked by Eileen's pronouncement that "these things just happen to you" I guess I have to concede the point. Not that I haven't had my share of pathetic failures, rejections and bad relationships - oh, I have - but when it really matters, I guess the stars just align somehow.
Although, to be fair, I believe this is true of most people. I believe that when something is your fate, your destiny, it will happen whether you look for it or not. I've always believed that. Maybe that's why these things just happen to me. Maybe it's just as simple as trusting that, if it's meant to be, it'll happen.
I can only hope that the same thing is true for exceptional, prescient cats who go hobo when they know a little girl needs it. I hope his destiny is a cute older couple who want to do nothing but love up on him all day long and feed him Fancy Feast by the truckload. I'd say he's earned it.
Posted by Lani at 9:32 AM | Comments (4)
January 21, 2005
Marketing demographics and other myths
Alesia, loving life...
The traditional marketing wisdom for chick lit is that it’s only read by single women in the 20-35 year old category. Well, guess what? I just got a reader letter from a 63 year old woman!!!! It made my whole day . . . actually, my whole week!! She said: “I am 63 and pretty much set in the type of fiction i enjoy” but she’d been feeling ill and her daughter brought her AMERICAN IDLE to try. She wasn’t crazy about the cover, but tried it anyway . . . and she LOVED it!!!!
Plus, she has a FABULOUS sense of humor herself: “I can't wait til your next book with Jules as the main character comes out. Will it be any time soon? I don't know how much time I have left and I really would like to read it (haha).” I LOVE this reader. I want to take her to New York and introduce her to my editors and hold a parade in her honor – one of the wonderful readers in the world who are willing to try new authors, even ones who may be outside of their comfort zone.
My MOTHER, on the other hand . . .
Won’t read IDLE. She’s sure it won’t be ‘her kind of book.’ Sigh. Even in the books of mine (or anybody else, for that matter) that she does read, she has her bottle of White-Out handy to cover up any ‘bad words.’
I’m SO not kidding!!!
So this blog is for my wonderful reader JB from Texas, and to all of you who try a new author or a new genre (or both). THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!! We here at Literary Chicks salute you, and we’re totally working on that parade in your honor.
Seriously.
Hugs and happy weekending,
Alesia
Posted by Alesia at 11:58 AM | Comments (8)
January 20, 2005
Spam, Identity Forgery and June Died
From Michelle, the real Michelle, and not that horrible, evil, wicked bloody spammer pretending to be me...
I am usually quite a happy kinda gal--you know--glass half full rather than glass half empty. But today I am feeling just a little a bit cross. Apart from the fact that I have a 'flu-ish kind of bug and am heading back to bed very shortly, here's why...
BEING SPAMMED
A little while ago I wrote about spam of the chopped meat variety, and how much I love it, and how versatile it is. Well, today spam is definitely off the menu, and here's why.
(a) No, I do not want to add several inches to my penis (even if I actually had one). And it really doesn't help your spammer cause if you send me ten spams, because I still won't buy your product to enlarge my penis, and I definitely don't have a penis, anyway.
(b) No, I do not want to see images of sexy girls. Even if you send me twenty more spams, I still won't want to see images of sexy girls.
(c) No, I really do not want to purchase six months' worth of Viagra. Even if you send me another thirty spams. Let me make it clear. I. AM NOT. INTERESTED.
I do solemnly swear that I will never, ever, ever purchase anything via spam popups or e-mail.
IDENTITY FORGERY
Owkey, someone (i.e., a horrible, evil, wicked spammer) is somehow forging my e-mail user ID to SPAM people. The reason I discovered this is because when I sent a legitimate e-mail, it was returned to me with the error message that I had been BLACKLISTED as a spammer. Me! Blacklisted. As a bloody SPAMMER.
So, if you happen to receive e-mails from me offering to:
(a) Add several inches to your penis (if you actually have one).
(b) See images of sexy girls.
(c) Purchase six months' worth of Viagra.
I apologize in advance, but it is absolutely not from me! Gah!
My e-mail provider (who tells me that this is not actually identity theft, but identity forgery) assures me that they are investigating this kind of horrible, evil wicked spamming. Let's hope they hurry up and find the culprit.
JUNE DIED
Lastly, my other sad news is that June, my blueberry iMac, has died. June has been with me through thick and thin, through writer's block and inspiration, through rejection and acceptance. It seems that she just didn't like the journey across the Atlantic, and the subsequent months of storage due to the red tape issues...
Bah, humbug. I'm not so sure I want to be a Master of Modern Technology anymore. I'm off to bed to nurse my 'flu bug.
Michelle The Miserable (but definitely not that horrible, evil, wicked spammer)
Posted by Michelle at 2:04 PM | Comments (3)
January 18, 2005
Readers ROCK!!!!!
Alesia, home from a FAB weekend...
What a fantastic weekend!!! I went to a writer’s conference and then to my first ever readers’ conference, and my head is spinning with excitement and new ideas!
I have to say I’ve never had as much fun as I did with Suzanne Brockmann and her wonderful HOT TARGET readers’ conference!! If you think I’m crazy, you should meet some of these wild and wacky women!! And no, before you ask, I did *not* dance on any tables, for a change . . .
Suz, her husband and new novelist Ed Gaffney, her great friend and terrific comedian Eric Ruben, the terrific writer Catherine Mann, former Navy SEAL and author Chuck Pfarrer and I spent all day (and most of the night; Irish coffee till 2 a.m., anybody?) entertaining and being entertained by one of the most wonderful groups I’ve ever met!!
You have not lived until you've partied with the YaYas, been ordered about by Major Michelle, shared creamed spinach with Lee and Fred, and heard the story of the poor unsuspecting bookseller that SuziB cornered by the ladies' room on behalf of the shy girl-who-shall-remain-nameless!!! I can't begin to name all of the terrific people I met here, but I loved them all! They even laughed (hugely) at my Mutual Orgasm Joke -- that I had to tell with Suz's DAD in the room!!!!!
The energy and enthusiasm and wonderful conversation charged me up so much that I’m jazzed to dive right back into NICE GIRLS FINISH FIRST and finish up the final bit!! Yahoo!!
I also had a great time with the writers and aspiring writers at the Space Coast Writer’s Guild conference; Barbara Samuel, Kathryn Caskie, Sophia Nash, Roxanne St. Claire and I were the honorary blondes!
In other news, the countdown is on! Only 2 more weeks till my second Super Jessie book, SUPER 16, hits the store shelves. I can’t wait!
Hugs,
Alesia
Posted by Alesia at 7:43 PM | Comments (0)
My Christmas, The Goats and The Sound of Music
From Michelle, Mistress of Modern Technology...
...Owkey, mebbe "Mistress" is a bit of an overstatement. A bit of an overexaggeration. Alrighty. Lani and Alesia, you can stop laughing now! I confess, I am a complete nincompoop when it comes to technology and work on a need to know basis.
So this year, New Year's resolution No #101: To learn more about technology and not be such an Internet ignoramus.
Results so far: Have learned (thanks to Alesia) how to do clickable links in blog land. Yay!
Below is a little intereactive blog from me.
MY CHRISTMAS
This year traditional fare was, alas, not on the menu for Christmas Day. Not because I suddenly developed a deep and abiding aversion for roast turkey, because I love turkey. No, this was because the brand new fitted kitchen in the new apartment does not, alas, have a fitted oven.
But then the lovely Jef and Dan invited us to their place for Christmas dinner (featuring roast turkey, courtesy of Dan) along with their friends and family. And a wonderful time was had by all!
For Christmas I got this. Fond memories of July 1985 when I lived in rickety attic above a junk store in London (the floor was wonky due to a bomb in the backyard during WWII), and hair was big, and we thought we were so uberly cool!
For Christmas I also got this. Laughed my way through every page in the book and am now convinced that Will Cuppy is one of America's best kept secrets!
THE GOATS
At Christmas time every year I really struggle, as do so many of us, to think up interesting gifts. I mean, there are only so many pairs of socks, and scarves, and chocloates people can wear or eat...
In my first book, 32AA, Emma's mother buys her some goats. And then I remembered this, because I saw this on the BBC website and thought, wow! I can buy goats or, in fact, any kind of livestock that takes my fancy!
THE SOUND OF MUSIC
Every year at holiday times we all moan about the same old, same old, don't we? Oh, no, not that movie again. And surely not that one again.
Then I realized that it had been years since I'd watched all the old musicals, and then I remembered how much I loved them, so this year I watched 'em all. I will even confess to having watched The Sound of Music twice, plus a Sound of Music special on the BBC! And a fabulous time was had by all!
NEW YEAR'S NEWS
I have my cover for CONFESSIONS OF A SERIAL DATER and I'm absolutely thrilled with it! To celebrate, I'm running a new contest. And the prize is...a goat, of course!
Tot ziens for now,
Posted by Michelle at 6:44 AM | Comments (2)
January 16, 2005
Some Choppy Thoughts
From Michelle, pretending to be Lani...
Lovely Lani is Internet inaccessible at the moment so just for today, I am pretending to be her with some Choppy Thoughts...
CROSSWORD PUZZLES
I love doing crossword puzzles and other types of word puzzles--absolutely adore them. Not that I am a crossword queen or anything, because I'm not, but neither am I that bad at them. But I just can't do cryptic clues.
Favorite cryptic clue of 2004: genuflex in the cellar
Answer is...
Abasement! Heh, heh, heh. Well, it kept me amused!
DON'T WALK ON THE GRASS
I absolutely love the Netherlands and the Dutch people. Really, they are one of the nicest, friendliest, most egalitarian kinds of people. But one thing that really baffles me, completely puzzles me, really perplexes me is this:
They let their dogs do their biz wherever they like, don't clean up after them, and nobody seems to mind. It's absolutely true!
So wherever you see grass--on the edge of the sidewalks, in the parks--you can absolutely guarantee that it is full of doggy poop, so it's a very good idea not to walk on the grass. Oh, and the poop is all over the sidewalks, too...
I don't get it. I just don't get it.
SLAGROOM, AGAIN
A little while back I mentioned that slag, in the UK, means a ho. I also mentioned that slagroom, in the Netherlands, means whipped cream (and not a room full of ho's). Well, I was absolutely delighted when I found some more slag words (yes, I know, it doesn't take much to amuse me!)
slagboom = barrier (the kind you get on train crossings), and not a ho making a lot of noise
slager = butcher, and not a procurer of ho's
slagader = artery, and not a ho doing math
And that's the end of my Choppy Thoughts!
Love, Pretend Lani
Posted by Michelle at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)
January 14, 2005
Innies and Outies
Alesia, from Frantic Packing central...
Okay, it’s the day I leave for 2 conferences in 4 days, so it must be . . . time to do laundry. Sigh. If I were even the LEAST bit ORGANIZED when I’m on the final week of a deadline, I’d be already packed. (But this is from the chick who just put OJ in her coffee, so we all know that’s a sad, sad joke . . .)
I’ve been invited to speak to the Space Coast Writer’s conference in Melbourne, Florida, and then am popping over to be a guest author at Suzanne Brockmann’s special Target Tampa weekend in, well, Tampa. Of course, our lovely sunny Florida weather we’ve enjoyed all week dissolved in a hideous thunderstorm last night and it’s going to rain all weekend, so the drive should be LOADS of fun. Or, you know, not.
Introverts and Extroverts – (Innies or Outies sounded more 'hooky') -- which are you? I am a total, TOTAL extrovert, and speaking at conferences recharges me in the hugest way. I’m even good at soothing that one person (there’s one at every conference) who corners you in the bar clutching his or her unpublished manuscript . . .
Please, please, if you want to write, come talk to me in the bar. Talk to editors and agents in the bar. But don’t bring your manuscript to the bar. We’ll all run away! It’s not that we don’t think your work is brilliant (it very well may be!). It’s more a question of suitcase space . . .
(Plus the whole legal problem of writers looking at unpublished work, and possibly getting sued later, but that’s, as they say, a whole ‘nuther blog.)
With my massive organizational skills firmly in place, I still have to 1) pack, 2)after finishing the laundry, and then 3) get a haircut and 4) get gas and the oil changed in my car. And look, it’s already 10 a.m.
Oops!
Have a fabulous weekend!! And if you’re at a conference, definitely come see me at the bar. Just not, you know, with your manuscript . . .
Hugs,
Alesia
Posted by Alesia at 9:53 AM | Comments (2)
January 13, 2005
The Sound of Claxons
From Michelle, dicing with dangerous manmade constructions...
So there I was the other day, casually strolling down the road, totally in a little world of my own, completely minding my own business, so not bothering anyone, when all of a sudden...
Claxons started claxonning. Flashy lights started flashing...
This could mean only one thing.
Rotterdam, being in the Netherlands, has a lot of canals and is a city of working bridges. See, lots of boats are too tall to get under the bridges, so when I say working bridges I mean that a lot of them can be raised to allow for shipping access.
So anyway, back to the claxonning claxons and flashing lights, and me walking down the road minding my own business...
Then, the barriers on either side of the road came down to halt all vehicles that would otherwise be driving across the bridge (or cyclists cyling without hands across the bridge, of course).
Unfortunately, I was in the MIDDLE of the bridge when all of this kerfuffle commenced. Of course I was in the middle of the bridge. Where else would I be?
I have never run so bloody fast in my life.
Happy New Year everyone! I'll be back on Monday with My Christmas, The Goats and The Sound of Music.
Michelle xx
Posted by Michelle at 2:01 PM | Comments (2)
January 12, 2005
Who'da thunk?
Lani, in a whole new world...
For some reason, the last few weeks have been weeks of discovery for me. This usually happens when I emerge from a book, ready to actually notice the world around me. Suddenly, it's like everything is new. So, even though much of the following is probably not news to most of you, I thought I'd share...
Discovery #1: Georgette Heyer rocks. To most people, this is not news. Most people who know anything about romance already worship at the Heyer altar. I, however, being the Lani-come-lately that I am, have just recently discovered the Heyer love. Right now, I'm about 2/3 through my first Heyer, The Grand Sophy, and I heartily recommend. If you like Austen, which I do, you'll love Heyer.
Discovery #2: This is disgusting. So I'm a little hesitant to mention it. But what the hey, we're all friends here, right? Here's the thing. All my life, my mother has told me that a shot of apple cider vinegar a day works like antibiotics, but without the icky Side Effect That Need Not Speak Its Name. (The women reading all know what I'm talking about; any mystified guys - you don't wanna know. Trust me.) Anyway, recently I've found myself battling a chronic sinus infection sans insurance (although that just kicked in, whew!) and so I started doing the disgusting shot of apple cider vinegar a day and... it worked. I'm still gonna go to the doc and get a round of regular antibiotics and all, but... the apple cider vinegar worked. Go figure.
Discovery #3: Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It's almost creepy how easily this gets previously impossible stains off surfaces like walls and counters. I'm kinda thinking someone had to sell his soul to the devil to come up with this little sponge. And that, my friends, is just a small taste of what it's like to live in my head. Very scary place, that.
Discovery #4: The fourth season of 24 looks good. Really, really good. I ducked out of season 3 by episode 5 - just couldn't take it, what with the kid and the airborne pathogen and friggin' Kim the stupidest girl ever working in counter-terrorism I mean come on - but this year, with Kiefer looking lurvely as evah and his honey being mildly tolerable... I'm liking it.
Especially Kiefer. He's no Colin, but in a pinch, he'll definitely do...
Although there are many things of which I was previously ignorant, I do have to run. Tonight is both Lost and Alias, and while Alias is looking kinda bad this season, I'm still going to give it a chance, because they might dress Michael Vartan up as a punk rocker again, and that would really be worth it.
Posted by Lani at 6:35 PM | Comments (6)
January 11, 2005
Wow! It’s 2005!
Alesia, from gadget central...
It must be time for books and more books!! One due any day (yes, I’m frantically finishing up on my deadline – actually poured orange juice instead of cream in my coffee yesterday, just after calling the dog by my son’s name . . .) and I can’t wait to get NICE GIRLS FINISH FIRST out the door to my editor!!
And, even more exciting, it’s only a couple of weeks until February, when my second book for teens, SUPER 16, hits the shelves!! Jessie is counting down the days till her 16th birthday and being a superhero in high school was never so crazy!! I loved writing this book and exploring Jessie’s relationship with her mom and watching Jessie grow up a little. Early reviews are great and I’m so excited!
I’ll be going on the road this weekend with my new gadgets and hoping like crazy that they work!!
Of course, when you’re technologically challenged like I am . . .
So the awesomely cool MP3 player that Navy Guy got me for Christmas finally arrived! I love it, love it, love it! All of my CDs fit on it, with space for about a gazillion more songs. I had a brief, sugar and caffeine-induced downloading frenzy, and we won’t discuss how much that cost. Or the upgrade to Dell Jukebox (JB) premium service. Or the nifty little sports case that will attach to my arm when I go running with my puppy, Daisy (here’s a pic of her; isn’t she the cutest?). So JB is definitely coming along on the trip, loaded with everything from ABBA to Beyonce, Faith Hill to Mozart. Yes, I am Queen of the Geek when it comes to music interests . . .
Then there’s the new AlphaSmart. This is supposed to make my life more efficient, by letting me write away from home. Finally, I can go to Starbucks, ballet class, or hang out at the park and write. Since end of deadline time makes me insane with cabin fever, this should be great. Of course, we won’t talk about the hour it took me last night to figure out how to transfer data . . . or the fact that it is so easy, Daisy probably could have figured it out. Sigh.
So wish me luck!! With deadlines and technology and the talks I’m giving at conferences in Melbourne and Tampa this weekend. Now, where did that coffee and orange juice go?
Hugs,
Alesia
Posted by Alesia at 9:44 AM | Comments (3)
January 8, 2005
Fun news!
Thanks to everyone who contributed to the Tsunami Relief. The Literary Chicks's thoughts and prayers remain with the victims of this horrible tragedy, and we thank you for indulging our moment of silence.
Gosh. It's so hard to segue out of something like that with our typically lively and peppy style, but it has to be done, so I beg your forgiveness in advance. But we've got some cool news about the fun things that will be going on at LiteraryChicks.com in 2005, and we wanted to share it with you all!
For one, we're all going to be posting more regularly, so come back and see more fun quips from Michelle, Alesia and myself! We're also going to be checking into the forum more often, so be sure to go and hand
Also, hit the forum and see more new first chapters from all of our books (the first chapter for my June release from Warner Forever, Maybe Baby, is the latest addition) as well as new posts from all of us and, hopefully, all of you!
But the big news is that we'll be having guest Literary Chicks during 2005. Slated guests include Beverly Brandt, Beth Kendrick, Marianne Mancusi and Megan Crane - but there will be more! Keep checking in for more opportunities to see great authors here on Literary Chicks!
Thanks again! And keep coming back!
Posted by Lani at 8:05 AM | Comments (0)
