Mother Goose

I wish I'd gotten a close-up of her face. She positively snarled at me!

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Yes, she just turned 87 and is still kicking butt at the nursing home. The whole family stopped by to see her:





Beth and Chuck (who has since lost the Grizzly Adams look after months of nagging)





Miss Ruth, Grandma's roommate (love her, love her, love her! --I swear it's like being in a college dorm) and Nate





And even Eli, who has his very own Special Visitor's Card!





Of course, all those wags and kisses wore him right out. :)

Pictures from Easter Sunday

Lydia serves up the paska--



--and the stuffed grape leaves (which she rolled herself!)



Beth and Leah hang out:



Genevieve kicks back:



Ruthy's all smiles, as usual. :)



Sissy shows off her $85 lamb (Nate: "I'll have ten dollars worth, please.")



The poison eggs:



My husband's pic disappeared, Nate hid, and I'm the one behind the camera.

Confessions of a Semi-Hoarder, or Mommy Dearest is a SLOB!

You know those huge Dumpsters they haul up to clean out those houses on "Hoarding: Buried Alive"?

There is one in my driveway.

I've always been of the mind that if you haven't looked at something in ten years, it's time to throw it out. You cannot hang on to every single thing, regardless of the sentimental value. Because everything has sentimental value. Well, maybe not that rusted tire iron. Or the leftover paneling we dragged from our old house (not MY idea) 23 years ago. But I did find a copy of PEOPLE magazine published the week Bette Davis died, with Bette on the cover. And about 2,000 photographs that never managed to find their way into an album (and probably never will).

I also seemed to have hung on to Every Single Bit of Artwork--And Schoolwork--My Children Ever Completed. I especially love the drawing of my husband, with the caption underneath: MY DAD IS HANDSOM. HE TAKES ME TO BUY LOTTERY TICKETS.

But so far, my favorite has been this...which, I'm terrified, may very well reveal my unintentional Mommy Dearest personality.

The paper, written by Beth in elementary school:

FINISH WRITING THE STORY

On Monday my Mom told me to clean up my room. I forgot and...it got messyer! I still forgot to clean my room!

After dinner...I had to clean my room! It was so messy! I ran upstairs to clean. I looked at the big, big mess. Theair was so much stuff on the flor!

First I... put my close away and started on my poasters.

Next I...put my toys away and mad my bed, threw junk away.

Last I...picked up papers and threw them away to, Then it was clean!

Then Mom came and said...you need to pick up the play room because it was even messyer than your room!

Did I REALLY say that? Beth doesn't remember writing the paper--"I just did the papers and then tried to forget them as soon as possible!"--so there's no way to know if whether or not she made the whole thing up. But I suspect every word there is true.

Now a Nice Mommy would've said something like "Good job! I'm proud of you!" But noooo, Mean Mommy tells her to go clean another room after she busted her 7- or 8-year-old butt getting the first room cleaned.

Yet I'm the one with a garage crammed to hilt with shit, paying $266 for a five-day Dumpster rental because I'm sick of scraping ice and snow off my car every winter, and it'd also be nice to get to the fuse box or the freezer once in a blue moon.

Seriously...

...what would happen if I licked this?

WARNING: Do Not Drink Anything While Watching This

Nothing Like a New Handbag!

Looks like Rowan takes after her Tante!

RAMBLING ABOUT REVIEWS

I was discussing rejections the other day, and kind of chuckling over one rejection (for SAY THE WORD) that stated they "loved the story except for the plot and the characters.” No kidding—that’s practically verbatim. The conversation turned to reviews, and I was asked, “Does it bother you when you get bad reviews?”

Hmm. I guess it does, though it doesn’t keep me awake at night. I mean, we all work very, very hard on our novels. Naturally we want readers to like our stories. Though we expect our books to be reviewed in a professional way, we have to take into account who is doing the review. Though editorial reviews, in a professional sense, are probably the most important, there are also a lot of blogger reviewers I respect; a lousy review from one of them wouldn’t exactly make me jump for joy.

Recently I discovered three reviews of STW on a very prominent YA review site. All three were dismal, written (I'm fairly certain) by teens, and it would’ve been nice to see one positive review on that (highly active) site. Also, not being a Google-Alert addict, I’m sure there are more out there I don’t even know about. I hope the many excellent reviews STW has received far outweigh the crummy ones—but why expend valuable energy worrying about it?

Anyway, this led me to Goodreads to check out other reviews—in a curious-but-unmasochistic-way—where I discovered several amusing tidbits.

“I didn’t like the main character Shawna and her multiple personalities – I’m pretty sure that she was schizophrenic.”

Well, I’m pretty sure a psychologist didn’t write this; she would know A. that Shawna did not have a mental illness, and B. schizophrenia has nothing to do with multiple personalities.

“The heroine is still using some sort of email system that would leave messages on her hard drive where her father can find them. Why would she not have Yahoo or Gmail like everyone else? Why isn't she using social networking sites? And why oh why can't she just empty her computer's Recycle Bin?”

Because, as anyone who watches Law and Order, Forensic Files, etc., knows, nothing is ever erased from your hard drive unless someone goes in and erases it—something a typical 17-year-old girl isn’t about to do.* It’s also something her father probably wouldn’t do either, but considering that he opens her mail and God knows what else, it makes sense that she’d be suspicious. Would Shawna really trust Gmail to “delete forever” every single one of her e-mails? I doubt it. I also addressed the reason Shawna didn’t belong to a social network, but apparently this reviewer skimmed right past that.

* If I'm wrong about that hard drive thing, please let me know and I'll be happy to concede.

“People that would hate this book would be people who are not so interested in lives of other people.”

I can’t even remember if this was good review or a bad review. Guess I should’ve checked out the number of stars.

And I posted this one on FB a couple weeks ago. It’s currently my favorite, mostly because--again--I can’t tell if it’s positive or negative: "There is nothing in this book that I disliked, other than most of the characters.”

It’s true: I can find humor in anything. And, because these are reader-reviewers, I do want to say, whether you liked it or not: Thank you for reading my book. <3 I sincerely mean that.

OK. What I really object to is when a reviewer inserts his or her own beliefs/prejudices/whatever into the review. For instance, when a reviewer says they wouldn’t have done such-and-such. Well, no, you wouldn’t---but this particular character did, and if it wasn’t out of character, why lower your overall rating of the book? Hello, am I writing about you?

Another reviewer disliked the whole gay/lesbian theme, which doomed the review from the get-go. But didn’t they know what it was about before they decided to review it? Um, flap copy, folks. Oughta check it out sometime.

Then there was the reviewer who lambasted STW because of a scene where Shawna drinks while driving a car. She was Utterly Appalled that Shawna suffered no consequences for this, i.e. I didn't make her plow her car into a tree or run through a crosswalk of kindergartners. I do not, by any means, advocate drinking and driving—but the fact is, people do make bad choices all the time, and no, they don’t always suffer any consequences. If I made my characters suffer each time they made a bad decision or did something wrong…well, they’d all be dead and buried before the end of the first draft. And there would be no book.



We are most amused. :)

50

50 THINGS A WRITER SHOULDN'T DO

Sara Gruen on the Red Carpet!

What a dream come true!

The COOLEST Fan Letter!

This so made my day:

hi! my name is (redacted) i go to (redacted) I just finished your book "Before, after, and Somebody in Between."

I LOVED IT!

it was such an amazing story. i read it in 5 days. i could not put the book down, not kidding! i stayed up until around 2 a.m. one night reading it. (:

i am in the middle of doing a project on the book as i am typing this wonderful message(:

i just wanted to tell you that you are an amazing author, and i was sad when i finished the book cause i couldnt read it anymore!!! (:

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEAAASE keep writing more amazing stories <3


Thanks, sweetie!

Friday 5

1. OK, so I've decided to start cross-posting between Livejournal and Blogger again. I have no idea why because no one reads me at Blogger--besides, which, I've gone through TWO GRAPEMOS since the last time I posted there. Today I transferred a few recent posts, then lost interest. I will try harder now. Maybe I'll make some new friends?

2. I rented a Dumpster. Seriously. They're delivering it next Friday so I can spend Easter weekend throwing crap out. What's it like to be able to park your car in a garage? I don't remember. And how long has Grandma been in that nursing home? Going on 4 years. Her whole apartment is still packed into my house. This is not an exaggeration.

3. Read two wonderful books sent to me by Tina-- 100 CANDLES:



and FLIP:



Both EXCELLENT!

4. I am thoroughly enjoying my second day off in a row (and trying not think of dragging myself back in there at 7 a.m. tomorrow)

5. I can believe Eli slept here beside me the whole time I've been playing around online and didn't bug me one single time. :)

6. I need something to write. WAIT! I snuck a sixth one in. Does it count?

Music Therapy for a Very Crabby Person

Ahhh, music.

Some days just start out stressed,

1. Can't find my hairbrush for second day in a row: stress. I have nothing to brush out my hair with. It has to be This Particular Kind of Brush, not just any old one lying around house. My mom hammered it into my brain for years that you never, ever use anyone else's brush. Of course at the time she was thinking: lice. No, no one in my house has lice. But I can't use their brushes. Mine is special.

2. Out of coffee: stress. All we had left was flavored. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

3. Overstuffed garbage pail left over from last night: stress. Seriously!!! Can you NOT see the trash falling out of the can? Are you going for some kind of world record to see How Much Trash Can You Shove Into A Single Can?

4. Grocery store: stress. Stupid*** self-serve registers are only a step above the stupid*** full-serve. Hmm, lets see how many times we can set off the flashing HELP light, Why will the register accept two coupons but then reject the third--which, as summoned cashier admitted, is actually the NORM? How about the cheap bags that break as you're schlepping your groceries to the car? (when I use the full serve registers I insist on bagging my own--double bagging, that is--thus subjecting myself to the stinkeye from the highly affronted cashier).

5. Work: stress. Yes, just thinking about how I am Not Off Till Thursday already had me in a tizzy on the way home from the store. I hadn't washed my hair yet (because I had no hairbrush, duh) and wasn't sure if I had any clean scrubs, and what I really wanted to do was to go back to bed.

And then, while punching radio buttons, I stumbled upon the overture from The King and I.




Suddenly, everything's fine again. :)

I am happy. I have music. I'll be humming the soundtrack all day.

Friday 5

1. A BEAUTIFUL ESSAY by  

2. April is movie month for me. JANE EYRE is next. Last week it was INSIDIOUS.

 


Best scene in that? Claws sharpening on a spinning grindstone...clomping cloven hoofs...and "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" playing on a gramophone. The adrenaline kicks in just thinking about it. I'm also considering the remake of ARTHUR but, hmm, I dunno. I still have such a soft spot for the Dudley Moore version.

3. I still haven't received my invitation to The Royal Wedding so I guess I'll have to watch it on TV with all the other peasants. I doubt my manager would've given me enough time off anyway. Who's with me? Shall we make a party of it?

4. I spent 4 hours yesterday revising an older project and 15 minutes deleting 50% of my revisions.

5. Anticipating a rollicking night at work tonight. I may very well be the only one on the schedule. For some reason 95% of the staff gets Friday nights off. Go figure.

I WON!

I won a signed book mark for JULIA KARR'S XVI by posting an April Fool's prank in her comment section. Yay! Because I almost never win anything (though I did get lucky with a lottery ticket recently).



Thank you, Julia!

A Beautiful Gift

Thank you, Emjae!
xox

Migraines and Spur-of-the-Moment Purchases

If you don't get them, thank your lucky stars.

Mine started when I just 9 years old. I'd get one maybe every two or three years. Then, in my thirties, I began to get them every few months, several of them bad enough to send me to the emergency room. I'd ask for a Demerol injection--which, at that point, because I was barfing my guts out--was the only thing that would work. Imitrex injections didn't. I certainly couldn' t keep down a pill.So then the doctors and nurses would exchange looks and roll their eyes, obviously thinking: Oh, she's one of THOSE.

Hello? am I not lying here on your exam table with my face in a basin, sobbing with pain? And you think I'm here because I want to get high? If that were the case, wouldn't I show up here more than once or twice a year?

I saw doctor after doctor. I tried medication after medication. I subjected myself to the suspicious glares of medical professionals who believed I was simply seeking drugs (though they never said that to my face), never mind that I do not now, nor have I ever had anything remotely resembling a drug problem. I hardly ever drink, for pete's sake. I haven't had a hangover since 1986. I'm sure one hit off a joint would send me to my grave.

Finally a doctor (who now is my current doc) tried me on Fiorinal #3. For me, it's a miracle drug. The combination of 4 different ingredients will usually knock out a migraine right from the very start. I still get headaches--a LOT of them--but if I take the Fiorinal in time, I'm usually good to go.

Except for yesterday. I woke up in pain at 4 a.m. I took a pill. Two hours later the headache was worse. I took another one, cursing myself for not taking 2 to begin with. But one almost always helps. Not yesterday, though.

So then I have an hour or so where I'm feeling better; the headache is there, but not throbbing and I am not nauseated. I answer some e-mails, do a bit of proof-reading, check out my usual haunts...and then I'm flat on my back again, immobilized by pain.

This goes on all day. Pain, lull, feeling kind of decent, then pain again. During one of these lulls, the virus-I-though-I'd-gotten-rid-of-a-week-ago reappeared, rewriting itself over and over again. I zapped it again (after a 2-hour scan--NOT McAfee, which is worthless in this case) but my computer, which has been slowly dying over the past month or so (sudden blank blue screens, constant screen freezes, and getting BUMPED OFF) was pretty much worthless at that point.

Maybe it was the frustration. When you write, there's always stuff to take care of and I was, and still am, pretty backed up. Or maybe all the drugs, haha, But I decided then and there I needed a new laptop--NOW. I couldn't take it a second longer. So Nate and TJ and I went to Best Buy two minutes away and I bought the little Toshiba I'd had my eye on. Nate and TJ were there for 1) technical support, and 2) someone that drugged out has no business making a major purchase without supervision.

Of course when I got it home, it's not like I could play with it. Nate set it up while I huddled under a blanket, dizzy and exhausted, migraine back full force.

Then, at seven p.m., I lifted my head and realized that, after 15 hours: I AM PAIN-FREE! Pain-free enough to eat dinner, though one hour earlier I was too sick to get up and make it. You can imagine how wonderful that feels. And this morning, too, I'm perfectly fine (and regretting having to use up a sick day when I'm actually...yanno...sick).

I never know what brings these things on, though stress is often involved, and sometimes very strong smells (think church-lady's cologne). But I was off this weekend, did not go to church, and the only stress I experienced was stress from my old computer. However, I DID eat cranberries, plus had a glass of cranberry-apple juice--2 things I almost never have--and I had them both on Sunday. Haven't Googled it yet, but....cranberries? Is it possible?

Ban Musical Chairs!

I think Musical Chairs is way, waaay too stressful a game for children for play. I watched them play it at my niece's birthday party and I practically had a nervous breakdown.

Think about it. Remember when you played it? Did you actually like it?

I bet not.

You're afraid to pass any chair while the music is playing. You guard it till the last second, when the kid behind gets too close for comfort. You hope against hope that the music won't stop before you've reached the next chair. Suddenly, all of your "friends" have become your enemies, willing to do anything to knock you out of the game. Talk about paranoia.

The music screeches to a halt. A kid leaps into YOUR chair, shoving you out of the way, and everyone else finds a chair as well.

And there you are, standing all by yourself.

Alone.

Chairless.

In silence, except for a few smug ha-ha-ha's.

And you stumble away in humiliation and defeat while the music resumes, and those who are left continue the wretched game.

OK: Duck-Duck-Goose is fun. Pin-the-Tail-on-the-Donkey is fun. Tag is fun. Hide-and-Seek is fun (unless nobody bothers to look for you). Heck, even Dodgeball is fun...so much fun, in fact, that some schools have actually outlawed it. Dodgeball gives you an opportunity to bash someone else with the ball. And you are moving, too, not slinking around a circle of chairs...those chairs...omg, those coveted chaaaairs! In Dodgeball nobody follows you, invading your personal space, hurrying you along, breathing down your neck. There's no jolly music to be choked off right in the middle of the tune--which, in itself, I find extremely disturbing. One second you hear it. The next second you don't. Maybe you were humming along. I don't even like it when my husband switches the TV in the middle of a commercial. I prefer closure, I guess. Or else I was taught that it's rude to interrupt.

I used to break out in a cold sweat whenever I had to play Musical Chairs. Now, as an adult, I still find it painful to watch. I don't think my nephew liked it much, either. He got bounced out twice and looked positively heartbroken. I gave him bubblegum. What I really wanted to do was whisper in his ear: Tante hates this game, too. Hey, I know! Let's go find some cap guns and scare the shit out of 'em ALL!

Something tells me I may be a bad influence on this child.

So...who besides me also HATED that game? :)

Elijah UPDATE

I haven't been posting much about Eli. Believe me, he's FINE. The twice-a-day Pepcid keeps his puking to a minimum (maybe once or twice a month and no more of those long, drawn-out nightly barf marathons). He weighs 65.5 pounds and though he has mellowed somewhat, he's still a handful, especially when he's bored. We try Very Hard for him Not To Be Bored and send him to Camp Bow Wow about 3 times a week. We use a Gentle Leader now and he walks nicely, though he still has a tendency to bristle at (male) strangers. Such a protective boy! He is handsome and sweet, funny as hell, and understands every word we say. Really.

When we noticed him limping a few weeks back, we took him in for extensive x-rays (another week-long cruise I can kiss goodbye) and discovered he has severe congenital left hip dysplasia. Yep, only two years old, with a geriatric hip. He'll eventually need surgery, which runs in the general area of four to seven thousand bucks (arrrgh!!!) but for now we've started him on Rimadyl, a heavy duty anti-inflammatory agent previously used for humans, but the FDA kicked it off the market b/c of lethal side effects. As far as Eli's concerned, this is a miracle drug. He's doing so much better now and almost never limps (occasionally he might be a bit stiff in the morning). He has Ultram for pain, but rarely needs this, either. He goes in regularly for bloodwork to check his liver function and white blood cells (he had an appointment today) and so far, so good. We may even be able to cut the dose back a bit.

Nothing--I mean nothing--slows this dude down. Yet the other thing we've discovered is a heart murmur. Aside from a very irregular heart rate (which worries me) he shows no other symptoms, so I'm hoping we won't have to treat this any time soon. I am wondering how this heart murmur will affect any future hip surgery.


This poor guy had such a rough start in life.  I do want to keep him around for a long, looooong time. :)

Goodbye, Liz

Twittter

I used to do it. But I find it a waste of time to "tweet" to people who don't tweet you back. I mean, seriously.

Is there a point to that?

LOVE this Version! (warning: adult content)

THE UNQUIET: Book Description

Sixteen-year-old Rinn Jacobs has two secrets: she’s bipolar, and she accidentally killed her grandmother.

After a suicide attempt, and now her parents' separation, Rinn and her mom move from California to the small Ohio town where her mother grew up. Back on her medications (again!), hoping to stay well, Rinn settles into her new home and school. She refuses to be daunted by the fact that the previous owner hung herself in Rinn's bedroom, or that her classmates believe the school pool is haunted by Annaliese, a girl who drowned there. But when a reckless séance goes awry, and terrible things start happening to her new friends—yet not to her—Rinn is determined to find out why she can’t be "touched" by Annaliese...or if Annaliese even exists.

With the help of Nate Brenner, the hunky “farmer boy” she’s rapidly falling for, Rinn devises a dangerous plan to uncover the truth. Soon reality and fantasy meld into one, till Rinn finds it nearly impossible to tell the difference. When a malevolent force threatens the lives of everyone she cares about--not to mention her own--she can't help wondering: who should she really be afraid of?

Annaliese? Or herself?

THE UNQUIET
Winter 2012
Bloomsbury USA Children's Books

That last sound you heard was a SQUEEEEEE! because I've been dying to post about this story now I really have a title. :)

10 Things I Learned While Editing This Novel

1. My agent is brilliant. I really should pay attention to her the first time around.

2. My editor is also brilliant, mostly because she never uses the word “suckage". Even if it’s what she means.

3. I obviously like funerals--I have one in every book. In THE UNQUIET I have 3.

Note: my grandmother routinely attended funerals (weddings, too) of people she never met. I used to think it was for the food. Now I believe she simply had a morbid interest in the whole process.

4. It doesn’t matter if I’ve re-read, re-written, and re-revised 10 times--I'm still gonna screw up. I don’t know what the magic number is. I doubt I’ll ever find out.

5. There is no such thing as “Are you outta your SKULL? I can’t cut that!”

6. God invented vacation and sick days specifically for writers on a deadline.

7. Even in my so-called “final” draft, my daughter can always point out something stupid I wrote.

8. I am still the Typo QUEEN of the 21st Century. That'll never change. Bow to me, peasants.

9. I’d forgotten how exciting a new book could be. :) :) :)

10. This laptop ain’t gonna hold out much longer.

Because We All Need a Laugh Every Now and Then...

...I let this darling baby rip up all my old rejection letters. Watch!!!

FINSHED (for now)

I feel like I've just survived WWIII.

My revisions for THE UNQUIET are completed. It took about 4 weeks and required a significant amount of rewriting. Eliminating the two extra POVs wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I didn't want a MC who always happened to be in the right place at the right time (HP, anyone?) which is why several major incidents were told from other characters' points of view. Regardless, they're gone.

I'm still in that weird zone where half of me thinks I did a good job while the rest of me fears I've completely botched it. As my brilliant editor is currently on vacation, I'll have no way of knowing at least till April.

But for now, it's behind me! Now I'll be working on an upcoming library presentation, making changes to my website, and hopefully hanging around here a lot more.

Other than that, I'm officially ON BREAK.

A GRAPEMO F.Y.I.

Here is a list of last year's Grapemo participants. For those of you who unfamiliar with Grapemo, think of it as a mini NaNo without all the pressure. All you need is a Personal Writing Goal--this can be to write so many words that month, or pages, or chapters, or even a single chapter. You can use the time to revise/edit/or proofread your work. You can work on your synopsis, outlines, query letters, whatever. If you're an illustrator, not a writer, you can use this time to work on whatever project needs your undivided attention.

The object of this is to spend ONE SOLID MONTH completely devoted to the most pressing matter at hand. And the nice thing is, nothing is carved in stone--goals can be reasssed and changed as needed. We'll be posting weekly updates (guidelines will be announced) and--for those brave enough to share your work--weekly (or possibly twice-weekly) teasers (not manadatory). It's fun and it's inspirational, and anyone can join in. Whoever is interested, please reply this post, or PM or e-mail me, and I'll add you to the list.

I desperately need this, by the way. :) And I bet I'm not alone.

GRAPES, ANYONE?

Hmm. I smell...



Yes! February will be here before you know it. You know what that means?

It's GRAPEMO time! Remember this?



C'mon, don't be shy. Who wants to play? :)

HAUNTED?

Maybe I've been spending too much time with my paranormal. But can you see the orbs in the picture below? Two near the center of the mantle, and one near the two pics on the wall to the right. WEIRD!

DECEMBER PICS!

Grandma and Nate on Nate's birthday (just before Christmas)


Our teeny-tiny puppy-proof Christmas tree


Hubby and Grandma


Nate, Grandma, Beth, and me on Christmas morning


Beth and me


Genevieve and Brandon ("...sitting in a tree, etc.") on New Year's Eve


Matthew, Leah, Molly, Sophia, and Hubby


Peace out, Lydia!


Pooped-out puppy on New Year's Eve