Wednesday, October 31, 2007
1. Steal Bam's contest away
2. Feature Shirley Jump at last.
A week ago I was not around at least not so's you'd notice.
So to the meme:
The basic facts:
Who is your significant other? Michael
How long have you been together? Since 8/82 A longass time
Dating/Engaged/Married? very married.
How old is your S.O.? 52 and he's older by four years. Okay? Get it? We're old. OLD.
What’s his/her middle name? I bet he'd hate it if I said. Archer.
Who eats more? Nowadays he does, usually, except if chocolate's involved. At the moment we're both outclassed by all three boys who can do amazing things especially to ice cream and cereal.
Who says "I love you" first? Both? Maybe? Why the hell don't I know the answers to these questions? It seems pretty damn basic, doesn't it? Maybe I'm sleeping through my marriage. Shit.
Who weighs more? He does but not enough more. (he's a runner so he stays pretty thin)
Who sings better? Depends on how much wine I've had
Who’s older? Him. Didn't we do this one
Who’s smarter? Him, except when it comes to a couple of things that have to do with life. Not science or math.....nosirreee. He's way smarter, like a gazillion and a half times smarter. INFINITY smarter.
Whose temper is worse? Who knows? Usually his, but he doesn't Allow It. He gets scary-quiet when he's mad.
Who does the laundry? It's a fight but he usually wins -- and does the laundry
Who does the dishes? Him, usually
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Him
Whose feet are bigger? His.
Whose hair is longer? Mine. His hair has never reached his butt. Mine's trying for mid-butt although I think it's done growing.
Who’s better with the computer? Him, probably--we're both relatively clueless. He's the Go To guy when anything breaks but there are a lot of sort-of/not=quite fixed things in our lives. Duct tape and wood glue and screws and wood left over from old projects.
Who mows the lawn? Him
Who pays the bills? I do, mostly with his money.
Who cooks dinner? Me, always and always and always
Who drives when you are together? He does.
Who pays when you go out to dinner? He does in the end even if I'm the one who pulls out the credit card.
Who's the most stubborn? Him, and I won't change my mind about that one
Who is the first one to admit when they’re wrong? Me? Him? Who knows who really means it?
Whose parents do you see more? no one any more. Used to be mine but when they shuffled off, we were basically parent-free.
Who named your dog? He did, but the boys insisted on the spelling.
Who kisses who first? Huh? Kisses what first? When?
Who asked who out? We never went out on a date. We met at a friend's house, slept together that night, learned each other's last names soon after and moved in together about a week later.
Who's more sensitive? Who the hell knows? Me right now, him usually maybe. WHO THE HELL CARES? Quit looking at me like that. Dammit.
Who's taller? He is.
Who has more friends? I used to have lots and lots and lots and lots of friends. Now we're about the same because I'm a hermit and practicing to be a female curmudgeon. There has to be a better word for that than shrew, dammit.
Who has more siblings? Me. Five.
Who wears the pants in the relationship? What the hell kinda question is THAT? Pants? What the fuck do pants have to do with anything? Who's in charge? Him! All the time! Constantly . . . except at the moment. See what I mean? You so don't want me doing regular blogging just now. I mean it. I'm in Lewis Black mode. Luckily my kids think it's funny.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
General — Physicians should consider the cardiovascular status of their patients, since there is a degree of cardiac risk associated with sexual activity. Therefore, treatments for erectile dysfunction, including CIALIS, should not be used in men for whom sexual activity is inadvisable as a result of their underlying cardiovascular status. duh, you morons.
Left Ventricular Outflow Obstruction — Patients with left ventricular outflow obstruction, (e.g.,aortic stenosis and idiopathic hypertrophic subaortic stenosis) can be sensitive to the action of vasodilators including PDE5 inhibitors
NO, I am so not on Cialis, but my kids have memorized the ads which play almost continuously during breaks in the shows they watch (Mythbusters, History Channel stuff--Old guy shows) Even though I force them to turn the sound down, we see all those happy, happy old folk doing well on cialis and so I feel as if we all are pals with the stuff around here. What is with the bathtubs again? The separate bathtubs on the damn beach? Other bloggers have asked, no one was given an answer that works.
I was given a choice to either take more medication B to counteract the high blood pressure caused by medication A or go off medication A cold turkey.
I'm doing the turkey thing and now I'm pushed into high whine gear, as high and whiny as a mosquito, and since this blog is supposed to attract readers--which I usually forget--I'll go for a walk instead of blogging for a while. OH, but I have to post tomorrow. Shirley Jump!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Zombie Love is just one of those things I never wanted to imagine. I think I still don't want to, but I'm fairly glad Ally Blue did, I think. Maybe.
Free gross 'n' graphic, tender (both "aww" and "mm, meat") love story at the bottom of this link. You're warned. Also extreme butt secks.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Tumperkin wrote about character description--a good post.
Replying to Tumperkin's line "short of saying 'she looks exactly like Angelina Jolie," Bettie wrote:
That's my pet peeve, right there. I hate, hate, hate celebrity comparisons. It just seems lazy. I'd rather a vague description than one that hijacks an actor's face.
Yeah, what she said.
I dislike the mention of an actor's face because I really would rather not be given an immutable image of the characters. There are other, stronger reasons it bugs the bejeebers out of me when an author uses a famous contemporary face.
See, I mind mostly when it's one of today's hot popular faces. George Clooney, no. Peter Lorre, maybe. Okay, I'll say yes to Lorre (but not the hero, unless you're slightly perverse. I admit that I'd read that book, but I'll bet a gazillion dollars Avon would never publish it.).
I'll forgive the writer if it's sort of twisted, say "he looked like Ben Stiller might if Ben worked the night shift at dunkin donuts and tasted a sample from every dozen he produced."
Sly and Clever are okay with me as long as it's not slammimg me over the head with the "see how clever I am" of the writer at the expense of the story. Emma Jensen does the very best 20th century actor reference, ever. And in a Regency. She describes a slender character with reddish hair, a wide mouth, and long limbs (only more lyrical than that. Oh, damn, how I miss Emma Jensen) and later on, some other character remarks that she looks like so and so's cousin Miss Hepburn.
But my main reason for objecting is a writer-trying-to-be-a-reader reason:
Many writers' loops are filled with people mentioning the famous faces they use to visualize their characters. They provide links where you can find gorgeous faces as models for your vampire prince hero.
So when I see the line, "she looked like a blonde Angelina Jolie," I see the writer's desktop monitor with little clipped photos of Angelina Jolie taped across the top. Even if that writer didn't use a blonde AJ as a prop, for me, a bit of the backstage is revealed in those descriptions (ie I'm aware of the author's voice in a way that she didn't intend. Hey, she might never have clipped a picture in her life, but we're talking about my response, not reality).
With something like Jensen's Hepburn gag, it's a gift to the reader, not a gaffe.
** As a fangirl it's my job to stalk Bettie around the internet agreeing with her. Also Bonnie and Carrie and Doug and Bron and about three thousand other people. I follow them and say "yeah, what she/he said" Eventually I get to read their unpubbed WIPs. Sock puppetry doesn't pay well, but it has its perks. Most of this is footnote is snarkish. The part about loving their WIPs isn't.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
1a. Your email address is also gone so I probably can't write to tell you about it.
2. This isn't whining; it's information.
3. This is the cause of my current gloating.
4. The new computer is wonderful, so far.
IN the meantime, enjoy the itty bitty kitty committee. One doesn't usually like to recommend possible cuteoverload knock offs, but this one has such a good, fine name. And it's based on a good effort, too!
* * * * *
I tried to get Beth interested in in this generator, but she, like my anonymous commenter here, is more worried about my relationship with the gods.
Here's something 7th Sanctum and I whipped up in five minutes! I toyed around with one idea: it came up with -- A fusion of the tale of the Princess and the Pea and the story of Pygmalion and Galataea that concerns a group of taxi drivers.
but decided to go more traditional
DARK HEAVEN NEXT [that's an RPG naming generator-- I cheated]
Deep in the Gorge of Unholy Gallows The dark elves met at The Duplicate Flagon to make a plan.
"We must defeat this foul being!" Atiak announced.
They took a moment to contemplate the image one of them conjured of Duxce. The ghostly vision dancing across the table.
He has droopy eyes that are the color of ripe cherries. He has shoulder-length, straight, indigo hair mostly bound in a series of braids. His form is very elegant. You find it all to easy to compare him to a prowling panther. He has small ears and long-fingered hands.
each of the elves,
had been volunteered and none wanted to be there. They represented the disparate and quarreling fellowships of
Fire Adventurers Of The Universe
Justice Defenders Of Atlantis
Machine Of Georadiers
Sacred Eternity Pack
But the quarrelsome omnivulture had to be dealt with.
"Come on," said one of them, drinking down the last of the flaming marsh mead. "Where's he hiding these days? Let's go get him."
Someone said, "He's living nearby the Terrible Cenotaph of Unholy Insanity which is located in Flathead Hangings Land"
One of them signaled for another flagon of dragon's piss. "Oh and that's what kind of place?"
The temporal thief librarian cleared his throat. "This irrational expansive domain was noted for its advanced agriculture. It was destroyed by economic conflict caused by perversion, leaving behind only tombs and relics."
"Sounds horrible," said another. "Let's give it a miss."
"Stop your blubbing, We'll have plenty of protection. Why I have the following shields
Buckler of Human Slaying
Caring Dragon's Tower Shield
Deathly Sinners' Shield of Heat Blasts
Distant Haunts' Shield of the Archer
Drunken Savior's Shield of Ethereal Finders
Just Bear's Tower Shield
Shield of Returning Alteration
Spiritual Elves' Tower Shield
Tower Shield of Frost Clouds
Tower Shield of Stone Aura
along with our
Contraption of Sapphire Clouds
Drunken Carver's Contraption of Victors
Lordly Thunderous Apparatus of Sapphire Nets
Utensil of Great Victors
we'll be fine."
"Good. let's drink up and just get started on our mystical ceremonies of protection and power, right?
I say start with
Ancestral Abjuration of the Monsters of Winds
Consuming Sacrifice of Annihilation
Summoning of Misery
So they did!
END OF CHAPTER ONE
and here's a blurb it created on its own:
Join the fantastic adventures of Gyboufr of Iqyk! His turquoise spheres of sight and rippling pectorals provoke jealousy in Ruva the Tyrant! Wielder of the the ring known as the 'soul of Uyvuqyc'! He quests to find the slayer of his mother! An exceptionally deadly dragon, Oepury, will stop at nothing to stop our hero!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
me: Yes, I was just cut off by accident. I need to return my computer to get it fixed. It's happened twice before--I'm still under warranty, thank goodness. I'm getting the error message again that means the mother board--
hpi: Did you write down the error message, MarGARet, please?
me: Sure it's --
hpi: Excuse me. I must put you on hold. I will return momentarily, MarGARet. Please excuse the wait.
woman's voice tells me about the wonders of going online to get help for my computer. I wonder how many other people shout "I'd be there if I could, ya bitch" at recording.
hpi: Yes, hello MarGARet, sorry for the delay. I have my supervisor on the line. He should be able to help you interpret the error message you've been getting, MarGARet. I'll just transfer you. Thank you and have a good day. We are most sorry you are experiencing trouble.
me: Fine, but can I get a case num--
clicketty click, silence, whirrrrrrrr, silence.. "if you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again"
begin again from the top. get past go on third attempt, get to supervisor, read fatal error aloud. Be put on hold for several minutes. Woman's chirpy voice tells me about the great upgrades that I can purchase or download. Online.
hpi: Well, MarGARet, according to what you have told me, the problems you describe and the message you're getting tells us that your mother board must be replaced.
me: Yes, I know. My computer is under warr--
hpi: Please wait, MarGARet, while I check to see what we can do for you. Thank you. I sincerely apologise for the troubles you are having with your computer. Please hold.
Woman tells me of all the marvelous new product line I can read about. Online. And she reminds me that my wait time will be much faster. Online. I read a chapter of a book.
hpi: I see that your computer is still under warranty, but you must send it back to us for repair. It will need a new mother board. Please wait while we get you a return number, hmmm? Thank you, MarGARet, and we are so sorry for the inconvenience. I'll just transfer you to the returns unit.
me: Wait! Wait, stop! Give me a direct number for them please! And a case number so I don't have to start at the beginning if I get cut off again? Please?
hpi: Oh, I assure you, there is no need to worry. But yes, certainly, here is your case number, MarGARet: 563mumbldy mumbuldy 23.. I'm transferring you now, MarGARet. Let me just say again, MarGARet, how sorry we are for the inconvenience.
me: Great, but I'm not sure I got the number, let me just repeat that bac--
click, clicketty whirrrrrr
Monday, October 15, 2007
I just wish she wouldn't.
And I can't help feeling as if I was some sort of straw or something. I mean bad, unedited fiction can't kill a blog, right?
The same applies to Corn Dog and I fret about her, too.
Okay, so I did stare at all the new ST stars to see if they resembled the old people. But come on. Star Trek ELEVEN?? You'd think a culture with a five minute attention span could move on from these 60s shows.
2. Why does my dog take naps halfway up the stairs? She just tumbled down, again. Thump, thump, whump. Scared both of us.
3. Why, when I need fluff most--sugar-coated sugar-books--do I find them dull? The books are fine. Same as they ever were. But I'm snarling about various life factors and my bad attitude is getting in the way of the latest faceless-female-glamorous-neck-to-knees-cover Regency-set book. I suspect it's the Why Not Me problem that would be solved with a snap of the fingers and a contract. It resembles Mistress Matisse's Princess Moment:
A recent addition to the private lexicon: "a princess moment". ...When you have a princess moment, you're sort of having a moment of jealousy or envy, but it's been so heavily leavened with a sense how really, really silly you're being that you have to laugh at yourself even as you think, "No, no, don't you understand? I want that! It's all about meeeeeeee! Me me me me meeeee!" This phrase is especially applicable when a) the person you're being jealous/envious of has in no way taken anything away from you in obtaining their good fortune, and b) you're already so loaded with good things that, Christ, you probably couldn't even handle any more. Complete disregard of both those facts is essential to the princess moment, as is the total awareness that your emotional response is rooted in the unrestrained Id of a two-year-old. It's an example of having two contradictory emotional responses at one time. You just have to laugh about it.
But the good news is I haven't finished my Terry Pratchett glom and I still don't find him boring, even after ten books. Okay, so someone who loves Star Trek could fling that argument in my face, see? see? but I don't suppose he or she will.
4. Why isn't anyone reviewing my latest book, the dragon thing? Okay Mrs. Giggles did, but that doesn't count. She didn't like it much. What I actually mean is why isn't anyone squeeing with delight over it?
5. I think I'll make a promise to myself. Listen: When my new computer gets here, I will take at least three days off from whining in this blog and will scintillate with life affirming anecdotes and observations. The interview with Shirley Jump counts even though she's the one who wrote it. I will also try not use the word "I" as much even if it is a blog. Seriously.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
It's time to make Oprah prove her patriotism by signing this petition. Granted, you're probably tired of being told to sign important petitions to stop wars, help starving kids. Go for one that's basically worthless, for once.
random paragraph from the letter to Oprah:
Selecting I Am America (And So Can You!) for your Book Club will go a long way toward erasing the long-standing concerns and nagging doubts about your patriotism that have dogged you ever since they were first raised in this letter. Otherwise, it's not looking good. To be honest, it's very suspicious that you have a Book Club in the first place.
I'm counting the minutes until the new Toshiba gets here. And I can at long last heave the Dell off the deck down, down onto the blacktop. Sure, I could donate it to some charity, but there is no charity I loathe enough to do that to.
I can almost taste the glorious moment my three? four? years of pampering and coaxing this machine will come to an end. . . .In my mind I play the happy moment of impact. Crash. Tinkle. Yay.
Maybe I should wait until Aya's here and she can tape the event.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
"Refrain from speculation" said the statement from his church. Omigod, can anyone manage that? I mean would even Jesus be able to turn his mind from speculation?
I do hope Aldridge died satisfied because the man put a lot of effort into his fun.
No, really, the only humane response to Rev. Fallwell's friend's kinky death is poor guy. What a way to die, but worse, what a way to live. Rev. Gary must have loathed his kinks or maybe he hated his real life. (At any rate, something didn't jibe, dude).
Right. Now we have the o, the humanity, o the waste part out of the way, back to the comments at Sadly, No. They are making me laugh a lot.
Just drop the quarter in her Dunkin Donuts cup and, for God's sake, don't make eye contact. She's not quite as bad as the glittering-eyed, skinny-handed loon, but she's getting there.
And never mind the corporate mentality, what is it with those hospitals all cropping up in one area? Mike's theory is that it's the phenomenon of multiple car dealerships that insist on crowding along one highway.
Anyway, the medical world builds those huge medical structures (designed to give one confidence in the marvels of mankind's advances) all in the same area. Is it zoning? Is it so you can do some comparison shopping (Honda? Subaru? Oncology? Coronary?). That would make some sense, but it seems more like competing gas stations.
Sure there's some specialization--a diabetes place and a children's hospital--but most of the huge complexes over in Boston have the same sorts of services, emergency room, maternity etc. and by gum, I never got the point of a herd of gas stations hunkering within sight of one another. Gas is 2.90 at the station on that corner, 2.90 across the street.
If the commodity's identical why shove all the hospitals in the same 6 block radius? So the biohazardous people don't waste a lot of gas driving around picking up the icky stuff?
And it seems random where you get dumped. Last time my pal broke her hip, she was in a totally different building, same hospital. And my other sick friend (I was having a two-for-one special on this trip) is sent somewhere different for the same sort of treatment for no particular reason she can figure out.
When my parents got sick they ended up in the same wing over and over and I can still remember some of those nurses' names.
But screw hospitals. I know what I want when I start to crap out: Amtrak. They may be inefficient and prone to problems....hell, they ARE inefficient and prone to problems....but we're all on that train together and those people who work there act like it, too. They seem able to think and act without consulting a PDA to instruct them how they are to behave so the lawyers won't bite their asses at the end of the trip.
Last night in New London, the train's engine died. We sat in the dark and we sat. Within ten minutes, people were knocking on the outside door--the damn train was long and it was blocking the intersection (blink blink blink ding ding ding ding ding went the railroad crossing warning bells and lights for ohhhhhhhh and hour or so) The people who knocked on the door didn't mind parking on the one side, the road doesn't go anywhere, really, but our train was in the way of the waterfront and they want to go enjoy the view. So the conductor opens both doors and keeps watch, chatting, as pedestrians clamber up and through and out the other side of the train's exit.
That has got to break all sorts of corporate rules. Not to mention the fact that he let us passengers out to wander around. "When you hear the replacement engine coming, get back here," he told us. "It'll blow a whistle at that bend."
I mean we're talking very pre-9/11, bless his train-y soul.
But what the fuck--why not? I've taken the train a lot and there have frequently been glitches on those journeys. Like the time the conductors had to chop at the ice on the doors to get them open They gave up on the steps and used a step ladder they hauled around the platform. That was the trip where we stalled out and a bunch of drunken guys piled out of a bar to watch the big train for a while and finally one of them walked over to pee on it. We passengers cheered and clapped. The conductor leaned out the door to tell him his aim was off.
Anyway, what I mean is, the men and women who walk up and down the aisles tend to be more human than otherwise. Assholes, some of them, but give me an asshole over an automatic smile and "and I'll be your server tonight" of someone who doesn't even pretend to think of you as a fellow human on the same road. Not their fault. They don't have the time, the energy, the corporate directive, poor things.
I want to know where the conductor types are allowed work in medicine. Or when it's my time for this nonsense, and there are no Amtrakkers in the systemm, I'll skip the painful tests. I'll have my family put me on a business class car (all the free coffee you want) and I'll ride up and down the East Coast until someone notices I've dropped off the twig. There're some nice spots north of New Haven. They can pry open the door and roll me out when they slow down.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Great, huh? Just what you'll want to read about. How about if I promise a book report instead? Or maybe a link to something my kids found on the internet (they always find things on the internet, the little dickenses)
I miss you even though you never write or call.
**except not entirely. Thank you, Doug.
Friday, October 05, 2007
What else I'm up to:
1. A brief wallow about another rejection.
2. I'll be putting on my parachute, checking the guidelines, scanning the car for bombs, counting the gators in the pit, preparing the fatal injection needle for insertion, writing down my last will and testament ("boys, remember: don't feed the dog more than twice a day. And don't use the large scoop").
Any minute, or maybe it's any day, now, I'll be jumping out of an airplane, fighting off rabid dogs and ninjas with my bare hands, facing the heart of darkness without a candle. . . okay, okay. I'll be taking a two hour road trip. Maybe. I'm still waiting to find out if I must. Yeah, so I inflate the danger a bit.
Actually, the response is just about that exaggerated but it's my lizard brain and body that do all the omigodI'mgoingtodieorworsenotdie stuff. I'm just there for the ride, rolling my eyes and waiting it out.
Thursday, October 04, 2007
1. The book of my heart is still under the bed and may never see the light of day. For starters, it’s 900 + pages.
2. Just hearing a deep Scottish brogue will turn my knees turn to jelly and I start looking for a bed.
Other TT this week:
Darla has boots. Lots of gorgeous black boots. View them and wish that you, too, had the fashion flair of Darla. or maybe that's just me--maybe YOU have just as many boots.
Wednesday, October 03, 2007
There's Lisa from Funky Winkerbean** heading off to dance death (or maybe it's the phantom of the opera come to collect her?) and Grandad Jim from For Better or Worse is staring up at an alarmed Iris.
Jim might be just having yet another set-back. God knows those old people do that. Lisa's clearly entering the dance floor up in the sky, poor thing.
** I can't find the comic at the official site but here's part of a statement:
For the first time in a comic strip, Funky Winkerbean creator Tom Batiuk has depicted the death of a young wife and mother from the recurrence of breast cancer. Lisa Moore, a major character who is battling breast cancer for a second time, succumbs to the disease on Oct. 4, 2007, leaving behind her husband, Les, and their five year-old daughter, Summer.
As a result of Batiuk’s commitment to helping people facing their own real life battles with cancer, University Hospitals Ireland Cancer Center in Cleveland has unveiled a fund called Lisa’s Legacy Fund for Cancer Research and Education, named in honor of Batiuk’s character and her subsequent story which has resonated with thousands of readers.
Repeated word syndrome?
Too many m-dashes due to working for epublishers who don't allow many commas and absolutely no semi-colons?
Skipping over the easy analogies, metaphors, imagery that are part of the first draft (my way of working = get the stuff out and then rewrite)?
Thinking I'll ever get published in NYC again?
Amiable rather than exciting characters?
You pick which is my most egregious mistake. I'm going back to bed and mourning my late career. Now I get why good writers like Nancy Butler throw in the towel. The running in place thing gets old fast. And my ear hurts.
Oops. I once again forgot the important piece of advice a mega-hugely-successful writer** told us at a workshop. I need to express endless enthusiasm about my work and my competence. If I believe I'm the best thing ever, so will readers, agents, editors, the world. I must be my own best fan.
There. Is. Nothing. Wrong. With. My. Perfect. Writing. (And how dare you even imply there is, Dr. Doug?)
** for all I know she might have even written good stories. I don't think I managed to get through one, but that means nothing.
Monday, October 01, 2007
I have memes. What is this meme? It's such an old word on the interwebs no one asks any more and so I don't get to read someone else asking the dumb "huh" question and pretend I knew it the whole time. I don't know what it means. I know what it is.
Anyway I have two of them and here's one now! It's from Lovelysalome/Carrie
OOooo it's more like a chain letter without the riches or recipes or curses.
Here's the desktop. It has my dog. Hi Sooz! Lots of stuff on there because my kids and I both use this damn computer. But I did go through lately and dump all the documents on the screen except one. The one is the grocery list. Alphabetized, divided into sections of the store, devised by my compulsive husband (he's the one who's kept gas books for every car he's ever owned. As in every time he or I buy gas, we write down mileage and gallons. He also enters the data onto the computer and ....oh never mind. never, never mind)
Anyway. My desktop -- ta, da.
I'm going to tag people who don't mind tagging. Um
A. Upon receiving this tag, immediately perform a screen capture of your desktop. It is best that no icons be deleted before the screen capture so as to add to the element of fun. You can do a screen capture by going to your desktop and pressing the Print Scrn key (located on the right side of the F12 key).
Open a graphics program (like Picture Manager, Paint, or Photoshop) and do a Paste (CTRL + V).If you wish, you can "edit" the image, before saving it.
B. Post the picture in your blog. You can also give a short explanation on the look of your desktop just below it if you want. You can explain why you preferred such look or why is it full of icons. Things like that.
C. Tag five of your friends and ask them to give you a Free View of their desktop as well.
D. Add your name to this list of Free Viewers with a link pointing directly to your Desktop Free View post to promote it to succeeding participants.List of Free Viewers:iRonnie, Thess, Rebecca, Knoizki, Beng, Tina, Rachel, Alice, Julia, Darla, Carrie, Kate
box o' unused Kleenex -- yes
bag for nasty used Kleenex--yes
lukewarm cup of coffee and lukewarm bottle of water--yes
battered old Kid's View teeshirt with boy1's sweats and boy2's school spirit sweatshirt--yes
clove of peeled garlic jammed in left ear--yes
okay, time to write some romantic smut.
Maybe later I'll write about some of the books I read this weekend but I doubt it. Glass houses and all. But I'm grouchy enough to say enough with the meat sandwiches. If the plot doesn't call for two guys to be all over the heroine, then don't. Just don't. No more throwing things in just to reach that E or X rating at Ellora's. Make It Integral To The Story and Characters.
Fine, all right, if you must put in the wandering-from-the-point sex, then let us know in the warning. (warning: Hot Smutty Sex also HSS occasionally unrelated to actual character development and story line)
I admit I need a checklist to start my day, but I wish some writers would leave the checklist behind when they write. [buttsecks, two boiz, doing self in shower whilst imagining hot secks, watching other people go at it, even the old tab a/slot b] etc.
Heck, I'm even tired of that damned black moment. WHO says there must be a black moment? eh? where's it written that every romance -- actually almost every mass-market book -- on the planet requires that one last squirt of trouble at the tail end of the damn book? I hate
I hate this stupid clove of garlic in my ear, too. Doug the ENT would disapprove, but I've run out of ideas.