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March 30, 2007
Introducing Julie Kenner!
Julie and I have forged an alphabetical friendship at author conferences over the years—Kenner, Kendrick, we’re always seated next to each other at book signings—and I’m so excited to introduce her as April’s guest chick because, quite frankly, the woman is a phenom.
For reals. She writes about 86 books a year in like 4 different genres and hits all kinds of bestseller lists and always has time to give sage advice to clueless newbies (e.g., me). Oh, and until recently, she was a practicing attorney. And she’s raising two kids. And now, she’s officially scored a 2007 RITA nomination for California Demon, her hilarious novel about a demon-hunting soccer mom.
We're reasonably sure Julie’s struck a pact with the devil. Either that or she permanently gave up sleep in favor of a Diet Coke I.V.
So, ever the overachiever, Julie has not just one but TWO new releases out this month:
The Prada Paradox, the finale in her trilogy of suspense and intrigue with fashionista flair. (See also: The Givenchy Code, the Manolo Matrix)
And The Good Ghoul’s Guide to Getting Even, her young adult debut about an attitudinous teen vampire with a score to settle.
If you haven’t read any of Julie’s books yet, you are in for a treat. Run, do not walk, to your nearest bookstore. And yes, you guys will have a chance to win big: Julie is giving away two sets of The Givenchy Code and The Manolo Matrix and two advance copies of The Good Ghouls Do (the sequel to The Good Ghoul’s Guide to Getting Even). Stay tuned for all the details!
To enter the giveaway, e-mail your name and address with "Good Ghouls READ!" in the subject line. Winners will be chosen at random and announced in Julie's farewell blog on the 22nd. Good luck!
Posted by Beth at 11:56 PM | Comments (8)
All That Glitters...
Might not be gold, but...
...Glam Rock!
I'm sure you're all way too young to remember glam rock, lol. Of course, I was only a wee girl myself when it was all the rage in the 70's. But this week I had reason to take a little trip down memory lane and check out some of my favorite songs from that era on YouTube. I hope you will indulge me, dear chicklets, if I share them with you.
Check out Darling David Bowie's makeup, hair and shoes for Life On Mars, here.
And what about Sir Elton singing Tiny Dancer - would you just look at that glittery jacket!
Another favorite of all time - the one and only (and sadly no longer with us) Marc Bolan - an absolute god of the glam rock age! King of velvet and shine! Here he is performing Children of the Revolution. (And just look who's playing piano and drums - Elton John and Ringo Starr!)
Okay, I hear you all cry. Enough already, Michelle! What does this have to do with anything?
Well, on Sunday afternoon Teenager #2 announced that he needed a glam rock costume for his part in the school cultural show, and he had to take it into school on Monday morning! No time to procrastinate, no time for elaborately planned costumes, it was already 3pm in the afternoon and most of the shops shut at 5pm on Sundays, so it would have to be a quick job indeed!
What would I do? Would anything glittery and glamorous leap off the store shelves and urge me to buy them? Here's my recipe for (hopefully) glam rock success!
Clothes: old fake leather jacket, old dojo pants.
Glam rock-ish ingredients: Yards and yards and yards of metallic gift-wrap ribbon, lots of big metallic circles, glittery cocktail drink decorations, and a stapler.
Staple metallic gift wrap all around the edges of the jacket and sleeves. Ditto to the bottom of the pants.
Staple glittery cocktail decorations to lapels of jacket.
Staple metallic silver and purple circles at will, wherever there is a space on either the jacket or the pants (depending on the size and reach of the stapler).
Staple curled strands of metallic ribbon to the under side of the whole length of the arms. Ditto to the back of the jacket.
And voila! a glam rock outfit! Okay, so it's not perfect, but it was the best I could pull together in such a short period of time.
Sadly, Teenager #2 whisked the outfit off to school before I could whip out the digital camera and take a few snaps, but the concert is tonight so I promise that I will snap away and post a pic here on Tuesday next week!
Chicklets, I'd love to hear about your last-minute costume creations. Or please feel free to share your favorite glam rock moments (if you have any!)
Michelle
Posted by Michelle at 11:00 AM | Comments (9)
March 28, 2007
Love me, love my ratty t-shirt
or at least, try to be friends
Eileen’s post on Monday got me thinking about men and fashion sense. Or lack thereof. I’m speaking specifically here of my husband’s Batman t-shirt. This shirt has attained legendary status in our relationship because it really is that atrocious: ancient, faded, riddled with holes and so threadbare it’s damn near translucent. And the yellow bat emblem silkscreened onto the black cotton is all cracked and peeling from too many spins in the dryer. This shirt is no longer fit to serve even as a dust rag. But Mr. Tall loooves it. “It’s a classic,” says he.
“Yes…I’m starting to see your point,” I’ll coo. “Here, darling, you’ve had such a hard day. Let me do your laundry for you.”
But he is wise to my tricks. He knows that were I to get my paws on that shirt, a tragic “accident” would befall it (I’m thinking lots of bleach and perhaps a lively round of tug-of-war with the dogs.) So I grit my teeth and bite my tongue and tolerate the world’s most heinous article of clothing.
For now.
When I ask Mr. Tall which items from my wardrobe he’d like to banish to dust rag status, he craftily refuses to answer. (Actual quote: “You always look great.” Sweet, but sadly, a whopping lie.) My mother is not so reticent. Seven years ago, I bought this great drawstring skirt at the Gap on sale ($12!). It was cute, comfy, and surprisingly well cut, considering it was made of sweatpant material. You know what I’m talking about? Heathered gray on one side, fuzzy terry texture on the other? Okay, well I loved this skirt. Wore it constantly in the summers with T-shirts and tank tops. We had something special, this skirt and I, until last October, when the fabric literally wore through in the seat. I still choke up just thinking about it.
Lucky for me, Gap still makes sweatpant-y skirts, so I trotted right out to the mall and snapped one up. It’s now warm and sunny in Arizona, so I busted out my new skirt last week.
“Wait,” my mother said when I met my parents for dinner at a casual pizza joint. “I thought you got rid of that skirt?”
“I did. But they had another one sort of like it, and I couldn’t resist. Isn’t it cute?”
“NO!”
And the floodgates burst open. Turns out, my mother had despised the original skirt from the get-go and had been patiently awaiting its demise from its first wearing: “It’s baggy, it’s boxy, it breaks all the rules of What Not To Wear, and I wouldn’t leave the house in it. I certainly wouldn’t wear it to dinner.”
“But I looove it,” I said.
Next to me, Mr. Tall snickered. “Hey, here's an idea—when we get home, let me do your laundry for you.”
So confess: what crimes of fashion do you commit in the name of comfort and nostalgia?
Posted by Beth at 12:06 AM | Comments (4)
March 27, 2007
The First Official Literary Chicks Haiku Contest
Because I am moved to haiku.
I’ve never been that into poetry. I don’t mind a little two roads diverge in a yellow wood action once in awhile, but I’ve never been one to sit down and read a book of poetry from cover to cover. I like my reading material to have a story, a plot, a protagonist. You know, something to keep my interest.
But despite my missing poetry gene, I often find myself moved to haiku. For example:
My fingers tip tap
A computer screen glowing
An afternoon blog
See? I made that up just now, right off the top of my head.
Here’s another:
A deadline looming
I’m easily distracted
The internet calls
Parenting a small child often puts me in the mood for haiku:
Oh! Potty training
Cleaning up poop once again
It will never end
Or:
Goldfish and go-gurt
Chicken fingers and French fries
Juice boxes to go
You had no idea I was so talented at this, did you?
So now it’s your turn. Post your haikus below on the topic of your choice. The winner -- who will be chosen by me -- will have bragging rights to the title of The Ultimate Literary Chicks Haiku Champion.
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (10)
March 26, 2007
Dressing Men with My Eyes
Or at least begging them to at least put on a shirt with buttons
I am surrounded by very handsome men. My two sons are gorgeous. Seriously. Really gorgeous. And Cowboy? Well, he's just adorable. I'm proud to be seen walking down the street with them, except . . .
You knew there'd be an except, didn't you?
I so want to dress them and they so won't let me.
Today, Thing One had a recital. Since he plays electric bass, his recitals don't tend to be stuffy affairs. Yet, my suggestion that he wear his black cowboy shirt with a pair of untorn, clean blue jeans was met with an eye roll of such proportions that I am shocked he didn't sprain something.
It didn't help that none of the other boys in the band had on a dress shirt when we got to the pre-recital rehearsal. The cowboy shirt was discarded faster than you can say "Jimi Hendrix" who is exactly who happened to be on the T-shirt that was being worn underneath the cowboy shirt.
I knew when I got involved with Cowboy that he was pretty much a T-shirt and jeans kind of guy and I really do think it's a mistake to get involved with someone just to try and change them into someone else. It's just that he looks so hot in that white tuxedo shirt untucked over jeans. Sigh.
I don't even want to start on Thing Two whose idea of what goes together today included a bright yellow T-shirt with the Osteology of the Llama on it and a pair of gray and white shorts worn with blue flip flops. It's a good thing that he's gorgeous.
I suppose I shouldn't complain though. If Cowboy were allowed to choose my outfits each day I wouldn't be terribly happy. No one should have to wear miniskirts with fishnets to the grocery store.
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (8)
March 23, 2007
Winners! Yay!
I totally knew there would be winners this week. See? I am psychic!
Well, hellooooooo, Chicklets! Thanks to all who shared their woo-woo this week (geez, why does that still sound dirty to me?) and I'm happy to announce that chosen randomly from last week's commenters are Pam W. and Joelle! E-mail me with your addresses, girls, to claim your signed copies of The Fortune Quilt!
I have to run today, I'm on deadline and am just about ready to drop, but I wanted to say "Hey!" to all the Chicklets who've been listening to Will Write for Wine! I love seeing your names in e-mails and comments! Also, we've got a new episode up this morning, and even if you have no idea what a podcast is, go check out the site - we've got a big, red button that will not blow up the universe (sorry) but will make it super easy for even the biggest technophobe to download and listen to the 'cast. So check it out! This week: Flaming Skulls and Acronyms. How can you pass that up? Go have a listen!
Posted by Lani at 10:13 AM | Comments (1)
March 21, 2007
You've got vision
At least one of us does
Okay, who here watches TLC’s “What Not To Wear”?
I adore this show because the makeovers are of such magnitude that they really should qualify as supernatural. But there’s no plastic surgery or psychotherapy or grueling diet and exercise. The hosts, armed only with their sharp tongues and style savvy, take these hapless fashion victims—the frumpy, the timid, the terminally apathetic—and turn them into chic, confident trendsetters in the span of a week. It’s amazing how a little external change can trigger a gigantic increase in self-esteem and optimism. These people buy a fitted blazer and well-tailored jeans and tweeze their eyebrows and bam! Their spirits improve, their careers take off, and I would bet good money that the vast majority of participants lose weight post-makeover. My favorite part of the show is the hair and makeup consultation because I am in awe of the vision of the hair stylist. How? How does he know exactly which cut and color will most flatter every face? How does he see past the shaggy bangs, the frizz, the client's often hostile resistance to change? How does he manage to get past all the physical and psychic clutter and hit the bullseye every time?
My friend Karin is like this with home décor. She can take four white walls, beige wall-to-wall carpet, and $100, and in two days, she will turn the place into a centerfold for Better Homes and Gardens. Mr. Tall and I are in the process of remodeling several rooms in our house, and I force Karin to select every shade of paint because she has “the vision.” It’s a good thing, too, because left to my own devices, my guest room would look like a sensory deprivation chamber. I have no vision. Hell, I don’t even have a coffee table in the living room yet, and we moved into the house 3 years ago. But Karin has the gift, so I trust her. (Sort of. Sample conversation:
Karin: Ooh, check out this rich dark shade of red!
Me: Um. Okay.
Karin: We’ll do the east wall in this color, and the other three in that pale gold I showed you yesterday.
Me: But…are you sure?
Karin: Absolutely! They’re both earthy, desert shades. It’ll look great with the wood stain on your furniture! And with the sunlight exposure this room gets…
Me: But isn’t red and gold kind of, you know, ketchup and mustard-y?
Karin:
Me: I mean, I’m no Rembrandt--
Karin: You got that straight.)
I’m insanely jealous of people who can do stuff like this—see breathtaking potential in the most ordinary things. My friend Kelly, who is a fashion designer, can do this with clothes. Give the girl a paper bag, a shower curtain, some aluminum foil, and a box of staples, and she could whip up a couture gown for the Oscars. It’s beyond cool.
But writing, I suppose, requires its own kind of vision. You start with imaginary people in an imaginary situation and you make them real enough so that other people can also “see” them. You have to keep twisting the storyline and tweaking reality so that the plot surprises and delights without drawing the reader up short with disbelief. Most writers secretly hate to be asked, “Where do you get your ideas?” because they honestly have no clue. The universe just sort of picks up the red courtesy phone. It’s probably the same for painters and musicians and Karin with her paint chips.
So what’s your special “vision”? If anyone’s happens to be furniture selection, I could use a living room consult.
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Beth at 1:18 AM | Comments (8)
March 20, 2007
Bippity-Boppity-Boo Woo Woo
Wand Waving and So Forth.
I’m the sort of gal who has both feet planted firmly on the ground. I’ve never been haunted, nor had that creepy feeling that someone’s watching me, only to whip around and have no one there. I don’t freak out when I encounter a black cat. And picking dirty pennies off the ground? Yuck. Who needs that kind of luck?
But I really wouldn’t mind having magical powers. Like Harry Potter powers. I’d especially like the household spells Mrs. Weasley is always putting to good use. A wave of the wand, and dinner is ready. Another wave, and the dishes are done.
Sheer bliss.
I’d also like the ability to whip up some magical potions. Lucky elixir, for example, on the day a book is released. Or maybe a good hair-straightening remedy (I live in Florida . . . it’s really humid here).
Creating fire is always a useful skill, especially when you have to deal with hurricane-caused power outages. And the ability to open a door, presto-change-o, would mean never getting locked out of your house or car again.
But there are other powers I wouldn’t want. Like, I don’t think I’d want to be invisible. And I wouldn’t want the ability to read other people’s minds. Who wants to know that the person you’re chatting with in the grocery store is really thinking, Wow, that pimple on her forehead is freaking enormous?
And when my son grows up and discovers girls . . . I really, really don’t want to know what will be going through his thoughts then. Really.
So basically, I wouldn’t mind some magical powers that would simplify my life . . . but would be sure to steer clear of the ones that would complicate it. Because I’m already stressed out enough as it is.
What magical powers would you like to have? Discuss amongst yourselves . . .
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (9)
March 19, 2007
Woo woo is not new new to me
It's an old friend . . . practically a sister
As I've mentioned before, my family chats with the dead so it's no surprise that the world of woo-woo is something I'm quite comfortable with. I have a friend who read my Tarot cards pretty regularly and I have been known to consult Runes in moments of deep crisis when a decision must be made.
Still, every now and again, my oldest sister who is the one with the largest amount of woo woo in her (she's also a scientist, go figure) still occasionally surprises me. She has been known to call and answer a question that I haven't asked her, but may have just asked the person who's actually in the room with me. We often speak in unison with her voicing my thoughts as I form them.
I'm a big fan of the TV show Medium. Love that psychic soccer mom. So I was thrilled to get the book written by the real Allison DuBois on whom the show is based, Don't Kiss Them Good-bye, as a gift last winter. A big focus in the book is how to recognize if your child is psychic and help them. I felt like I was reading about my sister.
Then I made my sister read it, too. Funny thing. She wasn't surprised.
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Eileen at 11:35 AM | Comments (10)
March 18, 2007
Just say NO to woo woo - or, maybe not?
'cause the woo woo might be GOOD
Oh, boy, has it been crazy around here this week!! ATLANTIS RISING hit bestseller lists all over the place, at Waldenbooks, Borders, Barnes & Noble, and even the very elusive USA Today bestseller list!!!! Yes, Navy Guy popped the champagne when we heard that news. Thanks so much to all of you who followed me into my new dark and twisty adventure!!
But all the excitement, plus the launch of Lani's AMAZING NEW BOOK THE FORTUNE QUILT made me think about angels. Specifically, the guardian angel who must curse every day of the week that she got stuck with me.
I have a tendency to leap. We're talking really BIG leaps. Quit your job on the strength of one book sale? Sure, no problem. Pack up my entire life and move across country at the drop of a hat because, hey, it might be fun over there? Sure. Why not?
And my G.A. just sucks some more gin out of her coffee mug and follows along. Have you ever had that moment where, just at the last possible second, some mysterious force bails you out of a desperate situation? Your car died, there's no way you can come up with the $1500 to fix it, and lo and behold, you get a royalty check you didn't know was coming. And it's for $1535, so you can fix the car and buy lunch?
Yeah, that kind of mysterious. Well, in Lani's amazingly fabtastic new book, there is something a lot mysterious about a certain quilt. You can check out the excerpt here, but seriously, just head straight over to Amazon and pick it up. Or rush to your nearest book store, where it's up front prominently displayed on the NEW AND NOTABLE FICTION table. 'Cause this book? It rocks the house. Woo woo and all.
Please tell me a story of when your own guardian angel stepped in to save you!!
hugs,
Alesia
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Alesia at 1:02 PM | Comments (8)
March 17, 2007
Ghost in the Machine?
Karma Computer?
You know, I've never felt the urge to have a Tarot card reading, or my palm read, or my fortune told, or consult a psychic, or to go to a seance. It's just not my cup of Earl Grey. But like Lani, I'm interested in psychic phenomena. In fact my first Young Adult book ALMOST FABULOUS (coming to a book store near you next winter) features a teenage heroine who develops ESP powers.
But what does that have do with anything, I hear you cry?
Well, for the last couple of weeks I've been revising the book, and some pretty strange things have happened to me. Is this a sign? Here's what happened...
I got my first hint of a ghost in the machine when my editor sent the book back to me for electronic revisions a couple of weeks ago. I couldn't open the Word file! I quickly figured out why - I use an old version of Word (97) and the document file was in Word 2001 or similar!
But I didn't panic. After all, it was time to upgrade my software. First plan of action: I went online and tried to find a downloadable-at-the-click-of-a button-with-the-aid-of-a-credit-card version of Word, and was rather shocked to discover that I couldn't purchase it this way. You know, this being the 21st Century and all? I still didn't panic. I trotted to the computer store to purchase the latest version of Word I could find. Problem solved! Until...
This is the Netherlands so of course all software comes in Dutch. Now, I can manage workaday Dutch, but technical Dutch when I'm under deadline and am tracking changes electronically? I only had two weeks to finish! I wouldn't have time to order the English version online from a distributor, because how could I guarantee I'd get it quickly enough? Can we say eeeeeeeeekkkkkkkk (that's exactly what I did say. Or rather, screamed!).
I called Oh Patient One to, you know, panic. But fortunately he uses a 21st Century version of Word at work (in English), so I sent him the file, he re-saved it in 97 format, sent it back to me, all was well. Until...
Last week, there I was editing away like a madwoman, when...I realized that the earlier edits I'd made had been in an older version of the manuscript. Oh noes! I didn't panic, I had the two versions of the book up on screen side by side, carefully made the changes in the new version of the file, and was back on track! Until...
On Monday morning my monitor died. Was someone trying to tell me something, or what? But I didn't panic. Off I trotted to the computer store (which didn't open till noon - shops here open late on Mondays), shelled out $150 on a new monitor, rushed home and hooked it up to my computer. Yes, we had lift off! Surely I'd had my three bits of bad luck. Surely all would be well, now...
On Thursday I ran out of ink. Why didn't I think of ink when I was in the computer store shopping for my new monitor? I could have kicked myself, because I really needed to print off the manuscript - I just catch things better when I read a hard copy. So off I trotted back to the computer store. And I was back on track again. Until...
Picture this: My editor really needed to receive the revised book from me by 6pm Manhattan time yesterday--midnight over here. No problem, I thought. I could do that! But there was one small fly in the ointment--my Internet service was down. This time I panicked! It was too late to go to Kinkos, and the Internet cafe (which opens late) was of no use because the computers don't have disk drives or USB ports. What was I going to do?
Fortunately my Internet service came back online and I scooted that file back to Manhattan at 10.45 my time last night. Can we say whew, anybody?
Ever think someone or something is trying to thwart you? I have to wonder...
Michelle, relieved in Rotterdam :-)
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Michelle at 12:38 PM | Comments (7)
March 16, 2007
I'm a believer.
Most of the time.
Well... some of the time.
Okay. Alternate Tuesdays.
As someone who grew up going to New Age churches, I can tell you that I've got a pretty open mind when it comes to psychic phenomena. I've done the tarot, I've listened to channelers, produced a video in school about past-life regression. I believe in the power of belief. I'm down with the woo woo.
Why does that sound dirty?
Anyway, that said, it wasn't hard for me to write a skeptic like Carly in The Fortune Quilt. Because the bottom line is, even though I believe that psychic phenomena is possible, and I've seen some interesting things first hand, there are a crapload of charlatans out there making quite the pretty penny off the desperate and the naive. I heard that the John Edwards show, which looked so good on the air, actually taped for up to four hours so they could get a half-hour show's worth of "hits."
That, my friends, is some bullpoop.
So, in the interest of all things woo-woo, I'm giving away two signed copies of The Fortune Quilt this week. Just leave your weirdest, creepiest, or most blatantly criminal psychic story in the comments, and I'll randomly pick two winners! So, go to it, Chicklets - who's a believer?
This blog was brought to you by The Fortune Quilt, Lani's novel about family, psychics and quilts... and what happens when they all collide at once.
Posted by Lani at 6:00 AM | Comments (32)
March 13, 2007
Everyone's A Critic
And I really don't drink that much.
Excuse me, while I indulge in a mommy brag: my three-year-old has started to spell.
He’s known his alphabet since he was two, and has had his letter sounds down for awhile now. But I just got him a phonics video, that demonstrates how letters build words, and he’s taken to it with great enthusiasm. He also likes to plug letters into his Leapfrog Word Whammer toy, and then proudly show off what he’s spelled.
Oddly enough, Sam’s favorite word to spell isn’t S-A-M, or C-A-T, or even M-O-M.
It’s S-O-T.
I frowned the first time I saw this. And then I put down my glass of wine.
“Did you teach him that word?” I asked George.
George, who had also discreetly pushed his own glass of wine out of sight, shook his head. “No. I don’t know where he got it from.”
“What does it say?” Sam asked me.
“It says sot,” I said.
“Sot!” Sam repeated happily. “Sot, sot, sot!”
"Well. Yes. But why don't you say something nice like, Mommy is pretty, instead?" I suggested.
"Sot!"
“Did he learn that from the phonics video?” I whispered to George.
“No way. Do you really think that they’d be teaching kids to spell sot?”
“So where did he pick it up?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I think he just discovered it on his own,” George said. "But there are worse three-letter words he could be spelling."
What’s next? Am I going to start finding expletives spelled out on the fridge with letter magnets?
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (9)
March 12, 2007
Amish Friendship Bread
Not!
Someone gave me Amish Friendship Bread starter a few weeks ago. My guess is you're all familiar with this stuff. There's a little container of "starter" which looks like whitish goo and a set of instructions. You keep it on your counter and add stuff on certain days and then eventually you bake it and you get three loaves of bread.
And three containers of starter.
Yeah. Three containers of starter that you're supposed to give away to "friends." Now, as it turns out, Things One and Two think this stuff is delicious and within about an hour of baking it, it's all gone. So I definitely want to keep one container of starter for myself. Since I figure that too much of the stuff will make them sick of it I don't want to keep all three containers. What to do with the other two?
Well, it turns out, not everyone is thrilled to be given something that they feel they should take and go along with since a "friend" gave it to them, especially when it's a little like having a pet. A low maintenance pet to be sure (there are several days when you just stir the goo), but a pet nonetheless. Heck, there are days with the cats that I don't do much but scratch them behind the ears.
Nor does everyone have the time. One of the "friends" I gave starter to last time forgot about it and left the little bag with the starter in a ziplock bag and the instructions on her desk. It exploded. She's not feeling all that friendly toward me right now.
So "Friendship" bread? Maybe not.
Now to the Amish thing. One of the things you add right before baking this stuff is a 5.1 ounce package of Instant Vanilla Pudding. I am not an expert on being Amish, but I think you won't use a zipper, you probably don't keep packages of Instant Vanilla Pudding in your cupboard. I could be wrong about this, but I doubt it.
Finally, it's not really bread. It's cake. It's bread the way banana bread is bread which is not breadish at all. I mean, you certainly wouldn't make a sandwich on this stuff.
So my friend is irritated with me, the Amish don't have anything to do with it and you can't make a sandwich with the final product. I think this stuff needs a new name. Any suggestions?
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (42)
March 11, 2007
The worst movie in the world
and other news
Congratulations TeresaH! Navy Guy picked a number from 1 to 14 and it was 9, so you win the autographed totebag! Send me your mailing address at alesia@alesiaholliday.com and I'll send it along.
I confess, I am completely exhausted and hopeless. Launch week takes it out of a girl. But I have great news - ATLANTIS RISING will be on this week's Borders bestsellers list for all mass market at number eight! Yes, your very own Literary Chick is now a nationally bestselling author!!! There has been much shrieking and happy dancing here. So I just wanted to say a huge LC smoochy thank you to all of you who picked up a copy of my book. I love you!!
But on to the worst movie in the world. Times two.
Last week we watched THE WICKER MAN with Nicolas Cage and, seriously? the worst movie in the world. It was a botched version of the Summer King mythology and there were bees. In fact, the worst use of bees in movie history. Except it was supposed to represent his lost virginity. Or the need for honey on his pancakes. Nobody really cared by then, anyway. But there were bees.
Then, as if that weren't enough, we watched (part of) Stan Lee's LIGHTSPEED last night. It was an unrated DVD, which should have been our first clue. Lee Majors was the biggest name it it. Second clue. Dialogue written by first graders, clearly.
Lee Majors: "You shouldn't have gotten involved with him."
BayWatch Babe (yes, that's how she's credited on the DVD, I'm not making this up): "Life happens.:
And there was JUICE. The guy who got gamma radiationed (seriously, sometime I'm doing a marathon of all gamma radiation movies) and is now hyperspeedy has a metabolic problem.
So the doctor says this. (Again, I couldn't make this up)
Doctor: "Drink this special metabolism-stabilizing juice."
That was when the howling started. But it was me howling. METABOLISM STABILIZING JUICE??????? And don't get me started on the way you turned off the gamma radiation rays. There was a GIANT RED BUTTON. ON THE WALL.
We were high tech enough for metabolism stabilizing juice, but going with the giant red button on the wall to shut down the GAMMA RADIATION.
So Stan Lee's LIGHTSPEED, for the juice and the red button, is the worst movie in the world.
What is your worst movie in the world? Why?
hugs,
Alesia, who has to say it, just this once: Nationally Bestselling Author of Atlantis Rising (hee)
Posted by Alesia at 10:57 PM | Comments (11)
March 9, 2007
Is That a Scythe in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?
Death stalks us all. Well, some more than others.
You know, I was going to use today to talk about how I don't have a dark side. I mean, I have my pissy moments, but typically I'm pretty cheerful. I tend towards the optimistic, which the friend who used to call me Pollyanna in college might think is a bit of an understatement, but whatever. For the most part, I'm a bright-side, make-the-best-of-a-bad-situation kind of girl.
And as I was composing this sun-shiny essay in my head, I realized that, while to all outward appearances I maintain a pretty bright outlook, deep in my head, there's some dark stuff going on, and I'm confessing here, to the Chicklets, the ugly truth.
I have a minor obsession with death.
In the time-honored tradition of women in their thirties, I blame my mother.
And Reader's Digest.
See, she used to read Reader's Digest every week, and almost every week, there was some hopeful story about overcoming tragedy. Something awful would happen, and then the rest of the story was about hope and continuing on in the face of devastation. Unfortunately, my mom seemed to stop reading after the tragedy, filing the horrible incident away in a mental rolodex to pull out whenever I did... anything.
"Don't play on the swings! A kid in Minnesota played on the swings, and he flew off, hit a concrete wall, and has been eating through a straw ever since."
"Cross the road? Are you crazy? A woman in Cheyenne walked across the street to get her mail, and a Mack Truck took her out right there. While her dog watched."
"Breathe? Seriously? You're breathing now? Haven't you heard about the people at Love Canal? They breathed, too, and took in all the toxins, and they dropped like flies."
And so the result of a careful mother and a thousand cautionary tales is... me. I never tell anyone, but I guarantee, at any minute of the day, I'm probably pondering my own death (or, now that I'm a mom, the deaths of my children, which is a thousand times worse). And what's better is that I don't need no stinkin' cautionary tales from the Reader's Digest; being blessed with a writer's imagination, I see every murderin', maimin' potential in my mind's eye whenever I do... anything.
For instance, when I take sharp knives from the dishwasher to the silverware drawer, I hold them up above my head, pointing heavenward, in case Sweetness or Light rush me for a hug. Which, in my defense, happens a lot when I'm at the silverware drawer. I don't know why.
Every time I drive over a bridge, I see an imaginary truck coming at me, ready to push me over the side, either into highway traffic below or, even better, a cold, watery grave.
And don't even get me started on the hypochondria. Twinge in my side? Heart attack. Pimple on my breast? Cancer. (Don't laugh; I'm not kidding. I wigged. And, yes... it went away before I even made it to the doctor's.) Splinter hemorrhage in my fingernail? Despite the fact that both pianists and typists (i.e., maybe, I dunno, writers) are prone to this because of constant battering trauma to the tips of their fingers, I went in to my doctor and said, "I think I have endocarditis." Which is a deadly infection in the heart that can happen if people with a heart murmur go to the dentist without taking antibiotics first.
Not that I've ever been diagnosed with a heart murmur.
But just because I've never been diagnosed with it doesn't mean I don't have it.
Aaaaaannnnnnddd.... that's why I'm no longer allowed to research medical symptoms on the internet.
So, I don't know. Maybe this is why I'm so sun-shiny all the time, Little Miss Bright Side. Because deep down inside, I'm just a little convinced that a bee sting is going to send me into anaphylactic shock before the day's out. Or, you know, an aneurysm could get me. Aneurysms are sneaky little buggers; they sit in your head for years with nary a symptom and then BOOM. You drop in the dairy aisle while trying to figure out what the freakin' difference is between A-grade and AA-grade eggs. (Seriously? Have these people never heard of B? What is that A obsession about?)
You know, reading back on this, it's hard to believe I was really going to tell you people I didn't have a dark side. Heh. And I'm not really that wigged by death, I just want to at least get the kids raised and out of the house before I kick it. And grandchildren; I definitely want to see my grandchildren. Although, once, I heard this story about a woman in Seattle whose granddaughter pushed her off the side of a ferry...
Well. Guess I just won't move to Seattle, then.
A couple of quick notes before I hit the road:
One, thanks so much to the Chicklets who came out to see me at Nora's last weekend. It was such a blast, and I loved meeting you!
Two, The Fortune Quilt is on shelves now, so get your copy today if you haven't already! And if you have - yay, you! (You always were my favorite.)
Three, Will Write for Wine, my podcast with my wonderful friend Samantha Graves about wine, writing and song... but mostly wine and writing... launches this Saturday! We recorded the first episode last night and it'll be up tomorrow and, if I do say so myself, it rocks! Plus, we're giving books away, so visit the site to find out how to subscribe, and how to win!
Four (I swear this is the last one) Alesia/Alyssa and I are being featured at Dee and dee Dish... About Books, and they're doing a big basket giveaway with stuff from both of us, so be sure to stop by and find out how you can win!
This book was brought to you by Alesia’s new book, written as Alyssa Day,
ATLANTIS RISING. Welcome to the dark side!!
Posted by Lani at 7:03 AM | Comments (13)
March 7, 2007
A quick glimpse into the crystal ball
I see many deadlines in my future
I don’t believe in psychics. Okay, actually, I DO kind of believe in psychics, but only the not-for-profit kind that aid crime investigations and find lost kids and stuff (see: “Psychic Detective” on Court TV). And I do believe that some people are much more intuitive than others, and can sort of “tune in” to nonverbal communication on a much higher plane than average. What I don’t believe in are the so-called fortune tellers that hang up their shingles on Sunset Blvd. in Los Angeles or offer to read your tarot cards at Renaissance Faires. And forget about those trumped up horoscopes in the daily newspapers.
And yet.
I can never resist having my palm read or my tea leaves analyzed. I realize, deep in my heart, that it’s hooey and that the “psychic” in question is just watching my facial expressions for cues, but somehow, I keep coming back for more. Maybe that’s the human condition in a nutshell: we KNOW that everyone else is just as clueless as we are, but we desperately want to believe that someone has the answers. And the answers, of course, are always reassuring. You will find fame and fortune. The ex who broke your heart will come back. You will live a long and healthy life.
I used to scoff at the idea that a streetcorner psychic would say anything that wasn’t 100% optimistic. Then, right after we graduated college, my friend Trish and I sat down with a seer in Minneapolis. And this psychic had good news and bad news for Trish. The good news was, Trish was bound to be spectacularly successful in her chosen career. The bad news? Trish was never going to find “great love.”
Trish was outraged. I tried to comfort her with the thought that that at least she’d have the means to outfit herself in the chicest of outfits while lounging around her swank bachelorette pad drinking Cristal, but she was having none of it. She wanted great love, and how dare this hussy deny her?
I got a reading that day, too, but I’ve honestly forgotten the details. Except for “literature and scholarship.” Trish was going to get the choice real estate and the Hermes handbags, and I was headed for vast horizons of literature and scholarship. Rip-off!
Seven books and a dissertation later, I have to give that psychic her props. But she didn’t say anything about dogs. I’m pretty sure the psychic detective would have zeroed right in on the dogs. (“I see an office…jammed with advance reader’s copies and…and…my God, would you look at the shedding? There’s fur everywhere!”)
So the question du jour: have you ever had a psychic reading and if so, did the predictions come to pass?
This book was brought to you by Alesia’s new book, written as Alyssa Day,
ATLANTIS RISING. Welcome to the dark side!!
Posted by Beth at 1:52 AM | Comments (11)
March 6, 2007
Luke . . . I Am Your Father.
And other lessons I've learned from the movies.
When I was a kid, I learned about the Dark Side the old fashioned way . . . at the movies.
For example, Gremlins taught me you should always follow instructions, especially if those instructions come from a wise old man and involve not feeding your new pet after midnight. Also, when used creatively, microwaves can come in handy when dispatching evil creatures from your home.
From Goonies, I learned to never, ever drop your baby on his head.
From the Indian Jones movies, I learned that if you announce that you’re afraid of snakes, they will start showing up. Frequently. So it's best not to mention your phobias. Also it’s always a good idea to carry a whip on your belt, just in case.
War Games taught me that one should not hack into the government’s secret military computer system. And if a computer asks you in a creepy mechanical voice if you’d like to play a game, the safest answer is, “No, thank you. I’d rather not.”
Horror movies were even more instructive. For example, I learned from Halloween to never, ever, ever drop your knife when being stalked. And from Friday the 13th, I learned that it is most definitely not safe to lie in a canoe in the middle of the lake when there are supernatural killers running around. Actually, that might have been Friday the 13th, Part 3. Whatever. It’s still a good tip. Child’s Play simply reinforced my belief that dolls are really freaking creepy.
And then there’s the Holy Trilogy: Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi. These movies were full of educational moments on the Dark Side. For example, if you need to freeze someone for an undetermined amount of time, carbon is very useful. And it's always best to keep your gun at the ready, under the table, when dealing with unsavory characters.
(Incidentally, I also got some dating tips from the Star Wars franchise, such as how one should not lust after one’s twin sibling, even if you have been separated from birth. It’s oogey. And if you want to impress a date, announce that Boba Fett is your favorite character from the movie. For some reason, all guys love Boba Fett. I don't know why, they just do.)
Another Star Wars tip I picked up is that being able to perform mind tricks on people is not only cool, it’s an incredibly useful skill. In fact, I’ve been trying to practice my Jedi Mind Trick on George whenever a Zappos box arrives on the doorstep.
“These are not new shoes,” I say to George, fanning my hands in front of his face. "These are old shoes that I've had for a long time."
“What the hell are you doing? And did you really buy more shoes?” he asks.
Clearly, my Jedi Mind Trick needs some more work.
This book was brought to you by Alesia’s new book, written as Alyssa Day, ATLANTIS RISING. Welcome to the dark side!!
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (10)
March 5, 2007
It's nothing to be afraid of
I'm not really dark, just dark-ish
I come from a family that believes in talking to the dead. I'm not talking about chatting to someone's grave. They believe that spirits appear to them and speak. For example, Sissy Two claims that close to a year after our aunt's death, said aunt appeared to Sissy to tell her that she liked Sissy's new haircut.
Yeah, not exactly portentous or momentous or the slightest bit omen-y. Still, it's a little different. I've never known exactly what to think about it all.
Sissy One is a little bit creepier. She "reads" people. She won't talk about it much, but I've seen it happen time after time. Someone shows up and all their behavior is totally normal and she'll shake her head and say, "S/he's not okay." Sure enough. Time proves her right. I finally gave up second guessing it and try to use it to my advantage. I like to have her check out Things One and Two's teachers and soccer coaches to make sure they're really okay. She has yet to steer me wrong.
Sissy One also occasionally chats to the dead. I'm still a little miffed that my dead husband appeared to her to tell her not to make an offer on one of the houses I was considering. I mean, he could have talked to me. I always took his advice when he was alive. I don't see why he would think I would stop listening just because he was dead.
There's the thing though. The dead pretty much don't talk to me. The one exception was during what was pretty much the worst week of my life, the same dead aunt that liked my sister's hair came and sat on the end of my bed every night. Maybe they're so busy talking to my sisters and my mother and my cousins that they just don't have time. Maybe, as my sisters suggest, I'm just not "open" enough. I'm too cynical and doubting. Was that really my aunt or did my subconscious just want comfort so badly that I conjured her up in a dream so real it seemed like I was awake?
Even though they won't generally come right out and chat with me, there have been enough weird things that have happened to make me wonder just a little if my sisters are right. For example, I couldn't keep a telephone working in the room where my husband died. After having the same phone in that room for six years, after he died I went through seven phones in about eleven months. Plus, the phone would go dead every day at about six a.m. We often have interruptions of telephone service and computer service on the anniversary of his death. It would be just like him to want to use whatever technology he could get to to try and communicate.
Is it really him or just a flukey coincidence? How about you? Have you had eerie coincidences or messages that seemed like they were from beyond?
This blog was brought to you by Alesia’s new book, written as Alyssa Day,
ATLANTIS RISING. Welcome to the dark side!!
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (11)
March 4, 2007
Welcome to the Dark Side!!
When my evil alter-ego takes over . . .
First, I must apologize for falling down on my Healthy Choices challenge – I got hit with a tough personal loss in January and things rather fell apart. Blogging took a bit of a back seat. So if you’ve kept up with your healthy choices, Yay You!! I only lost 5 of the 10 pounds I’d wanted to, but sometimes life just happens.
Now, on to the fun stuff!! It’s RELEASE WEEK!! Both for me and for my darling Lani and the lovely Beth!! So celebrate national Literary Chicks Day on Tuesday by popping down to your local bookstore and picking up a copy of THE FORTUNE QUILT and Beth's new YA book, BOY TROUBLE and my new book, writing as Alyssa Day ATLANTIS RISING. We’ll love you for it in a big, smoochy way!
ALYSSA: Smoochy? Who says smoochy? Crap. Next you’ll be making us wear pink high heels or something.
ALESIA: Hush. This is my blog. So, the Dark Side. What’s a nice romantic comedy author to do when she has a secret yearning to write dark, twisty, sexy paranormal romance novels? Take a new name, naturally! And set the dark side free to play in dark waters, shadowed terrain, and the evil and twisted corridors in the hearts of villains and preternatural beasties.
ALYSSA: Some more dark and twisted than others. Grown men turned pale when they read that scene with the vampire goddess Anubisa at the end . . .
ALESIA: No spoilers! Continuing on, a little more than a year ago, the thought of writing a series of books about mythical warriors from the lost continent of Atlantis caught hold of my imagination and wouldn’t let go. I’ve been fascinated with the mythology of Atlantis and the idea of discovering a lost civilization forever. It’s an amazing dream: a lost world of advanced technology, gold and priceless treasure, and a possibly mythical culture that has been lost for more than 11,000 years. I read and reread Plato and kept coming up with: What if a heroic race of warriors were sworn to protect humanity? And what if we didn’t want to be protected? Just think of the trouble that could ensue!
ALYSSA: Yeah, but I’m the one who gets in trouble. You just pretend.
ALESIA: You still owe me for bailing you out of that jail in Reno.
ALYSSA: Hey! That was RESEARCH. I should make you pay me for it.
ALESIA: Please ignore her. As I was saying, I wanted to go to a deeply emotional place in my writing – a romance that had enormous stakes, the “fate of the world depended upon it” kind of love story; an action-packed thrill ride of a book. I also wanted to write hotter, sexier books with tortured and heroic alpha males and intelligent, strong heroines. Letting the dark side take over freed me to go to places I hadn’t gone before – I didn’t have to think “will my mother, grandmother, first grade teacher gasp over the sensuality level of this book?” (Not that a writer should ever have this kind of critic on her shoulder, but . . .) When Alyssa was writing the book, it wasn’t *me* in a way. It was safe to play with themes and darkness I hadn’t explored before.
ALYSSA: It wasn’t you at all. And I’m always glad to have hot, wild sex in the name of research.
ALESIA: Not on the BLOG!! Kids can read this.
ALYSSA: Good. They might learn something.
ALESIA: I love how ATLANTIS RISING turned out and I’m thrilled to be writing more in the series. I hope you love it, too – please let me know! If you leave a comment about your own dark side, I’ll randomly pick a winner to win a free autographed tote bag with the ATLANTIS RISING and WILD THING book covers on it.
ALYSSA: Buy the book, people. I need a new pair of leather stiletto-heeled boots. And the royalty checks are coming in MY name.
Alesia & Alyssa
This book was brought to you by Alesia’s new book, written as Alyssa Day,
ATLANTIS RISING. Welcome to the dark side!!
Posted by Alesia at 6:46 PM | Comments (14)
March 3, 2007
Car Trouble: The Sequel
And is it just me, or what?
Yes, it's time for one of those Michelle tales where I really do wonder if it is just me, or what. Really, sometimes I wonder if the universe has it in for me when it comes to travel.
See, last Saturday my cupboards, like Old Mother Hubbard's in the nursery tale, were really devoid of anything resembling something to eat. Except for a piece of soggy cheese and a lemon. So off I trotted to the Supermarket to fix the problem. But before I left the building, I did all of the usual, you know, double checks of what I needed for a trip to the supermarket...
Purse with money and/or cards in, check.
Apartment keys, check.
Trusty Dolly trolly, check.
50 cent coin for supermarket cart, check (sigh, you have to insert 50 cents in a slot in the cart to release it so that you can actually use it, but you get the 50 cents back when you return it).
Additional bags in case Dolly trolly gets too full, check (because we have to pay for our supermarket bags over here).
Weather not too terrible, check (it wasn't raining, but let's not mention the wind and bad hair days).
So off I set. And shortly thereafter I arrived at the supermarket, and there was a great parking space right near the door, which seemed like, you know, a sign...
And then I remembered what I'd forgotten. That I actually had a car. Yes, I forgot I had a car and walked to the supermarket. Let's just say that it took Oh Patient One quite a while to pick himself up off of the floor when I regaled him with the tale. I mean it could happen to anybody, couldn't it? We've only had the car for a couple of weeks, after all.
Am I the most forgetful person on the face of the planet, or does this memory loss happen to other people, too? Please tell me it's not just me, or what...
Posted by Michelle at 2:55 PM | Comments (7)
March 2, 2007
Too Famous for My Shirt
Um... didn't I say I wanted my Evian at room temperature?
First, you guys are so sweet! I wasn't fishing for compliments on the fame thing in the last post, but man, if I was, I would've won the... whatever fishing guys win. It's not a big belt... that's boxing. Um... the biggest stinky, decomposing fish? Whatever, I would have won it. You guys rock.
And oddly enough, I find myself struggling with the whole fame thing this week. Now, please understand, I have nothing to complain about. Brittney, Angelina, Jennifer - these girls I feel for. No one's ever going to come to my house and take pictures of me as I go out to get groceries. My fame is severely limited and rather impersonal, which is fine by me.
What weirded me out is a call I got yesterday. It seems the story the local alternative weekly is doing on me later this month is actually going to be the cover story for that week. The cover story. Which, if I remember correctly from my days working at a similar alternative weekly in Anchorage, is three to five thousand words. Which is a lot of words, and just between us girls, I'm not that interesting. Plus, they're not going to use my standard publicity shot. They're actually having me come in for a real photo shoot.
And I'll tell ya, I'm kinda freaked out.
I don't know why. It's very weird. I have never shied away from being the center of attention. In high school, my acounting teacher used to give me five minutes to tell jokes at the beginning of class. I acted and did stand-up comedy in college. I can get up in front of just about any group and talk - hogging the spotlight has never been a problem for me. I think the difference here is that I pursued that. I controlled it. Now things are coming at me which never even occurred to me, and I'm a little wigged out.
So, I decided it's time to embrace it all. The fame, the fortune, the cabana boys... bring it on. I just need a little help getting ready, and I thought maybe you guys could hook me up.
First... I need a celebrity couple name. Lani and Fish. Lish? Fani? Fishani? Lanish? Is it just me, or do they all sound vaguely Hindu? Which is okay. I can hang with Ganesh. I'm good. Vote for your favorite in the comments, or make up a new one! I'm also extremely flexible!
Next... I need a stalker. At the moment, I'm clean out, so I was thinking maybe one of you Chicklets could do the job? Anybody coming to the signing in Maryland this weekend? If you are, you can totally be my stalker. Just come on up, introduce yourself, and I'll hand you the application. (Note: The position is unpaid, and comes with a thorough background check/psychiatric evaluation. I may be famous, but I'm not stupid.)
Third... I need paparazzi. Someone needs to take pictures of me from a high-power telephoto lens while I'm taking the kids to the dentist. Just make sure it's cheap, because Fish is going to have to beat you up and break the camera, and I'd hate to see you out all that money. That would just suck.
And last... I need a rabid fanbase. People that will go around the internet and anytime anyone says anything bad about me, no matter how justified, they have to get all rabid and foamy and say, "NO! HOW DARE YOU SAY LANI DIANE RICH IS A SELL-OUT! SHE ROCKS!" Oh, and yes, it does have to be all in caps. Part of the rabid fanbase thing is being a little crazy, so I'm leaving the psychological evaluation out of this position, although it is also unpaid.
Okay. I think that covers it. Have I missed anything? Oh, yeah, something for my big, fat, swollen head. Yikes. Um... think a bag of frozen peas will do? And if there's anything you think I've missed which is necessary for my newly famous position in society, suggestions will be gladly collected in the comments.
Now where's that damn Evian?
Posted by Lani at 6:00 AM | Comments (17)
