Showing posts from February, 2009

Where Was Kate?

I wasn't just hauling the dog to the vet, I was without internet. Two da ys of silence. I haven't done two full days for several years. I managed to get some variety of noise though--what with television and books on tape and my own writing. It's funny how often I check my email--like a nervous twitch. And when I got back online only six or seven of the 600 messages were anything I'd feel bad about missing. Which essentially means I spend my days hitting a button looking for messages that don't really enrich my life. I'd say time for a change but this doesn't bother me as much as it should. In other news. . . . No. There really isn't much other news. An d since I haven't been looking around at sites for squawking and carrying on, I don't know what's going on. Mike and I took pictures of Bosnian stuff last night. So here're those pix Fatima wanted me to take. .I'm not sure what I'll do with them because I have no idea how to dea

dog again

Good drugs help, I'm telling you. She just managed to undo the collar outside and rub her head all over some dirt. Also in the news: I'm stuck on a story that I thought was going to slide along like it was on greased tracks. Maybe I should head back to the last story I thought was cranking along like nobody's business and then stalled out. Hopping back and forth like the Yop*** from finger top to finger top. ***One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish.

Things To Do List

I owe people many things. Notes, phone calls, thank you letters, proofreading notes, critiques, money. I will get on that immediately, okay, maybe in about an hour: first I owe this dog another visit to the vet. Cousinpalooza was a major hit--for me, anyway. The neph brought over the kind of person that if he breaks up with her? We'll all be srsly annoyed with him. We ate lots of dead animal flesh and bread products. And it is SBD so here's a standard SBD question: WTF is the appeal of hyper alpha males? Seriously. Feh. I've just listened to two books with men who didn't listen to other people before making their decisions, didn't pay attention to the woman unless they were in the mood. Otherwise they completely discount her opinion and intelligence and order her around like a servant. Dubya, who didn't really do the listening thing well, looks like a sensitive flower compared to those guys. The historicals I guess can get away with it because women weren&#


I have so much to do I can't get out of bed. Paralyzed by the Things To Do list. Also, the most pathetic dog in the world spends her nights trying to get the cone off her head and the bandages off her ear. So I'm really tired. If I take a picture of her goofy-looking condition (she had an operation on her ear) I'll post it but you might be overwhelmed by the sorrow in her eyes. No creature on earth can do pathos like a dog. They can say, "I don't understand why you did this to me. Whatever the reason, I'm sorry. Oh, how it hurts," with one small twitch of the tail. And now you've shamed me into getting my butt out of here and to work. Clean, write, clean, cook, run on real treadmill and not just the one devised by life. Oh, and naked pictures of me showed up in yesterday's mail--thank you Katherine. Maybe I'll post them.
where did my blog go? Sheesh.

Tuesday tuesday tuesday

And today is TUESDAY. Not MONDAY. TUESDAY. This whole week is going to be like this, I just know it. Boys are home and that doesn't help sense of not knowing wtf time it is or what day or. . .. Speaking of being awake too early, I was up and about at 7:30 this morning, and saw five Mercedes Benz waiting at a light heading east. Each car contained a single middle-aged white guy. All 5 were going into Hartford. Rich people are still out there, still going to work. My guess is they'd come OTM, over the mountain, from the wilds of Avon, CT, which is where they house the richest people, not that West Hartford doesn't try for that particular crowd. We likes our wealthy people here in CT. Who doesn't? Tax payers! Fancy restaurants! Whole Foods! It's funny to think that those sort of guys might be an endangered species. I bet we're done with the most profligate spending in this culture, at least in my life-time. Still not a lot of signs around here, but it'll sh

late as usual SBD

So I'm reading a book set in a clever world and containing an interesting bunch of support characters. Thing is, the book is in first person and the heroine is not nearly as smart as her world--or anyone else in it. How can that happen? How can the author who was intelligent enough to come up with a whole bunch of cool systems and personalities not give her main character the common sense of a mosquito? Mosquitoes have an excuse. I could understand if she came equipped with a mosquito's need to feed. (Now THERE'S some shapeshifting no one has explored) but she just acts out impulse and rage and the Desire to Prove Herself. Even early Stephanie Plum looks like a genius compared to this one. My theory is the world inspired the author and she spent more time playing with that then her character's motivation. The pluses outweigh the minuses. I just bought the second book and I'm giving her another chance. At least there's some funny stuff in there. And maybe s


Here's my book listed as the month's most popular free historical download. But how do they know? I sure don't! Look, there's Bettie Sharpe's Ember. Go read that baby if you haven't.

Welcome to the Already Crowded Club!

No, not surprising that a lot more people are writing and hoping to get published. If you have time on your hands and not a lot of resources, it's as cheap a way to try to make money. Even the cost of ink and paper isn't always necessary any more. Mike thinks I should start a No You Really Can't Write Campaign, or Leave it to The Pros Movement. trying to convince people that being a professional novelist is dangerous for amateurs. It'll cause Dangerous Brain Vibrations or something. Yeah, right.

free-online-novels dot com

Wow. I'm getting about sixty people a day from that spot (got the name wrong at first) and have been for days. I think because it's got a listing for The Rat Catcher. I wonder if any of you people actually downloading the book?

Kate And Boy: Fashion Police

newly-16 is sick in bed. If he stirs, I say, "if you're well enough to ________, you can probably go to school" As a result, he's trapped like a rat and must put up with these conversations. me (holding Lands End catalogue points to the orange version of these .): Okay, tell me that when you're in charge, you'll outlaw pants like these on anyone older than five. (the paper version has a cute model) him : They look good on her. Let me see that again. me: But going out in public? In those? Did you look at them? him (still gaping at model) : Hmm? me: You'd seriously allow people like me to wear them in public? him: Oh, wait. They're not pajamas bottoms? me: No, they're regular sort of pants. Capris, even. him: Oh, ugh. Yeah, okay. Over five, they'd be shot. Although maybe not her. me: That's good enough for my vote, I guess. They're fine for five year olds. And maybe ironic punksters-- those pants plus hair dyed to matc

I'm back

Whenever a Book in Six Weeks event starts up, my instinct is to find something new and related to writing to waste time. Cheers and Jeers and Twitter doesn't cut it when it's official WRITING time I'm avoiding. So I started another facebook event. This one is sort of a mojo/ links/ words for writers. I found a poem that I thought might work for a pal who has been rejected too many times lately (not me, for once. I'm just on ice everywhere and anyway, I'm used to The Rejection) Anyway. Yes. So. I decided Everyone should get a chance to read that sort of thing. and that group goes along with the other facebook group I started when I had another self imposed deadline. The very quiet Promo Group For Introverted, Socially Inept, Badly Organized or Simply Modest Writers. (I started whinging about how no one ever spoke up, and a member said, yo, dude. Look at the name . Oh. Ah.) I'm not on TV tonight so don't go up and down the local cable channels looking fo


I'm at the "what's the point" energy depleted stage so I think this had to be the flu. You know when small things like a cup of cold tea provide evidence of the basic underlying sadness of life, or, if not the universe's basic pointlessness, the crumbling decay of my inner life. more evidence? this video ... took me hours to recover from. They say the hit dog is okay. I don't believe them. I'm not watching the damn thing again and I'm still all soggy. UPDATE: I was right not believe it . Not only did the first dog die, they never found the rescuing dog. At least I don't think he was pulling the other guy off for food like some Huffpostians did--only because I figure he would have used his mouth to haul away the hit critter. I want to go back to just feeling icky. At least I plotted a pretty good book. Times like this I'm haunted by the messy, unpleasant spirit of Charles Bukowski (thank you Alex) and not one of my favorites like Wodeho


1. Yesterday I spent the day fretting about the person (whom I won't out, because she said she's so very very very sorry she didn't know what plagiarism actually meant. Very sorry.) who took my book as her own. I was thinking, man, free books. Not worth the emotional hassle. 2. Then last night a local cable woman asked me to be on her show to talk about my books. Here's part of the note she sent me. Kate, THANKS for agreeing to be on Page 1 [the name of the show here in CT. Know it? If I'm alive I'll be there Tuesday].. .I look forward to meeting you in person so I can gush appropriately over THE RAT CATCHER. I saw the link..... and figured I’d take a quick look. I was hooked immediately. I would have read to the end right then and there but I was working on a project for the Bushnell and had to finish it – which I did late last night. I can’t wait to get back to the story… So there you have it. 3. And you should thank me because I HAD called this post

end of world put off for now

OH but listen! The CVS has books out again! Lots of them! It's okay! phew. All face out, all mass market paperbacks. Many, many lurid covers. Thank God. I'm clutching one of the cheapie books (Colby Hodge) and ginger ale and listening to the boys thump and groan. That's good. And if I'm counting blessings, let me add that I live in a town that has an intersection of Raymond Street and Burr Street. That's reason enough to move here.

feathers still ruffled

but the combo present for 2 boys, rock band 2 for wii, is set up and they're pretty cute messing around with it... so I'm a little less grouchy and snarling. I still don't recommend crossing my path, particularly if you're going to act like a moron.


Oh. I forgot to link to yesterday's article, a familiar kvetch about the weirdness of kissing. But there is a link in that post to the Sailor Jim post about boingy penis syndrome and if you haven't read that, you should. Also at the above link, news of a new Bonnie Dee release. That's what I like. At the moment, I have a cold or maybe even the flu, thank you Hartford Hospital, but I plan to survive it so I can read the Bonnie Dee. Since we're in complaining mode, Listen. I'm ready to call an army of dump trucks to haul this goddamn snow away. And then we'll bring in the flame-throwers to melt the ice layer under it. If warm weather can't be bothered to show up and take care of this dreary problem, we'll just have to do it on our own. If everyone chips in a dollar or two to pay the guys with the trucks and flame-throwers, maybe we can get started on this problem today. I'm sitting in front of the space heater and recalling my 4 year stint as an ar

who are you people?

Suddenly my blog visitor numbers have shot up. I have to assume it's because I was rude about religion. I'll settle into a dull routine and you all can drift back to your regular lives. Before you go, how about an example of how appallingly self centered a writer can be...See below. Pain and suffering--a big so? hey! yay! I can write. Last night I managed to get back into the rhythm of writing smoothly. Whole paragraphs instead of one word, pause, another few words, check email. etc. Here's my big writer's secret: an ER. I drove a neighbor there and hung out for a few hours. It helped that 1. I wasn't truly concerned about the neighbor. She needed cough medicine and an inhaler. 2. The drive over woke me the hell up. The roads hadn't been plowed properly. Wheeee! Corners r fun. 3. hartford hospital didn't have internet I could connect to. 4. It did have a lot of people. 5. Including one lady who sat across from us and gave us the most evil eye I've see

I completely forgot about SBD

and I've been reading up a storm. All those CVS books. Somehow Susan Grant's remark in my comments made the sack of books seem more like a treasure trove than a sad haul. I dove right in and haven't come up for air yet. So far the only one I've abandoned forever is a Norah Hess . The original publication date on that one is 1978. Talk about rerererepublishing. Otherwise, the bag of purely escapist books been perfect for a long winter. And this is one loooooong winter. Hello, more snow-on-the-way. Park your cold self on top of the icy sidewalks and the twelve foot high grimy ice/snow banks. Make yourself at home. I've got the space-heater, the sack o' books, tomato seeds on the way. I will survive. Once the seeds get here, and time and I get to work, the house will smell like dirt and there'll be trays of tiny sprouts in old yogurt containers. Heaven, until someone knocks one over and I get The Look. It's an annual tradition.