Happy Thanksgiving

I’m up early. It’s foggy outside, damp and stagnant. I haven’t seen what the weather is supposed to do today, but I have no plans.  It’s kind of dark inside and I have a few candles lit.  I don’t want the television on yet. The quiet is nice.

I already prepped and stuffed a 23 lb turkey and it’s in the oven.  I have cream cheese softening for celery later and I have to peel some potatoes. Thanksgiving this year will be small and simple.

I have much to be thankful for – wonderful family, friends, health, talent, prosperity and live in one of the greatest countries the world has ever known.  I have people to love and people to love me. 

I haven’t written anything thi s week.  I kind of lost momentum with putting the words on paper (or in my case, in the computer), but I did a lot of plotting in my head.  Devon calls this percolating, but I tend to refer to it as stewing.  One of the differences between a refined northern girl and a rough around the edges southern gal, but either way gets the same result.

I’m going home to visit my mom tomorrow.  I had no idea she was 69 years old.  Well . . . I did, but somehow I have a mental image of her in my head and that image shows her to be about 50 with only salt and pepper gray around the temples where the color doesn’t stay well.  It hurts when one of your “rocks”, one of the “givens” in your life starts to wear down and crack.

Well, I just heard a shower start so I guess I’d better get moving.  So much for the quiet.

The Best Rejection Ever!

Yesterday afternoon, I received a rejection from an agent. I think I submitted the novel to her well over a year ago. I think I actually blogged about rejecting an agent on this one. Well, yesterday I learned not to be so evil.

She wrote me an email, telling me how sorry she was and how unprofessional it was of her to keep me waiting. It was a good rejection. So I took the opportunity to ask her what I could do to make her say yes. And two minutes later, she actually answered me with suggestions. Only a few other agents have done that for me -  one being Steven Chudney and the other one being Ashley Grayson.

It was a lightbulb moment and after I’m done with the ghost story, I’m going to revamp this one. Oh, and she wants to see the ghost story when I’m done. How’s that for one awesome agent!

I didn’t get my 1000 words yesterday. BOOOOO! But I have the weekend to make it up! YAAAAY! I completely forgot B4 had basketball practice this morning at 8:30 am. BOOOOO! But I got matinee tickets for NEW MOON tomorrow. YAAAAY!

B4 also has a birthday party at 2 pm, B1 has a basketball game at 3 pm, B2 had waltz practice at 3:30 pm. B2 and B3 just cornered me into dropping them off at the mall after B2 dance class. I have the “Mount Everest” of laundry in the basement and hubby and a friend are playing 36 holes of golf today and 18 holes tomorrow. WHEW! It’s going to be a busy weekend.

I did something . . .

. . . that I never thought I’d do.  I emailed my Congresswoman regarding my concerns over the Healthcare Bill to be voted on in the Senate tomorrow.  I didn’t have time to re-write, edit or even take a deep breath before I hit the send button. If I were to mysteriously disappear, then you know the PC Police has me in jail.  Do worry about the bond. I’ll gladly do my time. Here it is for your reading pleasure.

Dear Senator Hagan:

Hello. I’ve never written to my congress person before, but I’m really concerned about the Senate Healthcare Bill and want to ask you to vote NO on Saturday.

My reasons are simple.  I do not feel our federal government manages Medicare, Medicaid or our Veterans healthcare adequately and to put them in charge of everyone’s healthcare frightens me.

The criminality of the bill as to instituting jail time if Americans fail to purchase healthcare is where I question the constitutionality of the whole bill.

Also, I don’t believe for a moment this will NOT increase the deficit and quite honestly, I don’t believe those who support such legislation are working FOR THE PEOPLE. Polls show 65% of Americans are AGAINST this bill, and it’s not fair for Congress to “shove it down our throats”.

The added taxes will cripple working families and the amount the actual medical bills each American will be saddled with on top of paying for coverage and taxes hasn’t even been addressed.

It’s criminal what Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid are doing to this country, the free market and our way of life and I’m hoping you’ll take the moral high ground.  You need to stop doing what’s popular with the liberal left and do what’s right for all people of North Carolina and the country.

Few people want the Federal Government to control 1/6 of the economy nor do they want bureaucrats telling them what medical treatment they can or cannot have.

This is a nightmare that I wish I could just wake up from.  Prove the campaign ads wrong Senator Hagan. Prove you’re not “Godless” and speak the will of your constituents by voting NO on Saturday. Thank you for your time.

Brenda Birch

WooHoo!

WooHoo? What kind of title is that for a blog post? Well, it’s just what I said when once again, I wrote 1000 words.  That’s three days in a row. Go me, go me, go me! Now for you seasoned writers, I’m sure that’s nothing. But for me, the day work workaholic, chauffeur, head chef, kid cheerleader, litter box cleaner, laundry queen, birthday gift picker upper, etc, etc, etc, it’s a BIG DEAL.

I got a rejection from an agent who requested a full of the YA historical on my birthday no less. Meh. Whatever.

To the lady in the 1990s white Toyota station wagon whom I raced down main street this morning – My ego wasn’t about to let your little ole car juice my big beautiful truck. So long sucka! Heehee. There are certain cars that when they roll up beside you at a light, and act like their going to get in front of you, you just gotta laugh.  For me they are, VW anything, Mini Coopers, Prius or Corolla, those low rider box cars, Smart Cars, any model of station wagon and anything rusted or obviously 4-cylinder.  It just ain’t gonna happen. Okay I really need to grow up.

B4 has his first basketball game tomorrow. I think he’s nervous and hopefully he’ll get to play a little. If not, I have some games on my cell phone to pass the time.

B2 is almost done with the classroom portion Drivers Ed.  Lord have mercy on us all when she gets behind the wheel. The Academy of International Studies program she’s in at school requires all students to perform 30 hours of community service, so after Thanksgiving she will volunteer at the after school program where she used to go when I worked full time. If she does good (which she better!), it could turn into a summer job. That would be just awesome!

Remember those really fat pencils that we used when we were in kindergarten and first grade. I could never understand the reasons for such large pencils in such tiny hands, but that’s a topic for another day. Well, my sixth grader is obsessed with them. She uses them in her art class and just has to have one of her own. So tonight when we went to Target for a few other things (why I take both girls to Target is also a topic for another day) she looked for them, but couldn’t find them.  Well, AC Moore is right next door to the Target, so we dropped in there  but nothing. I swear if I would have heard one more whine about those darn pencils I was going to kill her, hypothetically of course. At her insistance, I even stopped by the CVS on the way home just by chance that they’ have those darn pencils and she’d shut up. Didn’t happen. So, she’s still going on and on about the pencil. IT’S A FREAKING PENCIL!’

What are you obsessed with? I’ll admit I do have an obsession with mechanical pencils, candles and history – the dark ages, anything Mesopotamian, Egyptian or earlier, Religions – all of them, and historical conspiracies and lately alchemical art and symbolism.

Have a wonderful evening.

Progress!

First of all, I find this appalling. And with the new healthcare program run by our deceptive goverment, I fear it’s only going to get worse. Here’s a snipet:

The USPSTF recommends against routine screening mammography for women under the age of 50 and that for women younger than this the decision to have mammograms every two years should be an individual one that takes into account the patient’s individual context, including “the patient’s values regarding specific benefits and harms”.

Okay for those who don’t know, the USPSTF stands for U.S. Preventative Services Task Force and the address is http://www.ahrq.gov/CLINIC/uspstfix.htm.  Does anyone notice the .GOV?  To expand (this is from their website): 

The U.S. Preventive Services Task Force is an independent panel of experts in primary care and prevention that systematically reviews the evidence of effectiveness and develops recommendations for clinical preventive services. Sponsored since 1998 by the Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality (AHRQ), the Task Force is the leading independent panel of private-sector experts in prevention and primary care.

Say it with me everyone – DEATH PANEL!

Are you fucking kidding me? I wouldn’t have lived to 50, if I hadn’t got the routine mammogram.  If this is the way the country’s healthcare is headed, let me off the damned bus. The elderly has already taken their lumps with cuts to medicare, the unborn HAVE NO RIGHTS, today, it’s women’s health and tomorrow, they’ll go after our children.  Oh, but wait – they already have gone after our children with massive deficit spending.

Not that I don’t think the insurance companies are without fault either.

This is an outrage. Yet Congress doesn’t give a rip because they aren’t being made to participate in their own public option.  No, Alan Grayson, you have it backwards. (You have to Google him if you want to know what I’m talking about.  I won’t link anything about him here.) The DEMS want people just to suffer and die slowly.  Or wait so long for treatment they die in pain. Or tell people it’s not in their individual context to get preventative care at an earlier age. This is a wake up call for all who trust our government to do right by the people. Good God I can’t wait until 2012.

Today I got a wonderful surprise in the mail.  A mailing envelope with a book by one of my favorite authors. I’m holding in my hands MEET ME UNDER THE CEIBA by Silvio Sirias.  Silvio is a master at mixing Spanish and English and his stories are beautifully written. I first became familiar with his work by reading BERNARDO AND THE VIRGIN a few years ago and I can’t wait to read this one.  Look for my review in the next issue of The Scruffy Dog Review.

Also, this week I should be getting GOING ROGUE: AN AMERICAN LIFE by Sarah Palin and KILL HER AGAIN by Robert Gregory Brown.  Robert Gregory Brown is the next author interview for The Scruffy Dog Review and I think it’s important to support the authors interviewed there.

Yep, I’m buying Ms. Palin’s book.  I like Sarah Palin. I think she’s a good person and a rising political force.  The press and the far left keep trying to tear her down but I don’t think she’s going anywhere.  Sure she’s not as seasoned as some think she should be, but hey, look at the freakin’ amateur in the White House now. 

So far, I’ve held firm on my committment to write at least 1000 words per day.  Sure, it’s only been three days but the story is moving along.  Thanks to everyone who sent me emails and provided feedback on the Blue Boards to my prologue.  It flows much, much better. If you write Picture Books, MG or YA there’s no better place than the Blue Boards.  You have to be a member, so just Google Blue Boards and request a membership.

B1 had a basketball game this afternoon so after I picked up B4 and B3 from school, drove home, had a quick bite to eat and dropped B4 back off at the school for his basketball practice, B3 and I drove over and watched B1’s team kick another team’s butt.

B1 really wanted to make the varsity team again this year, but there were so many seniors, he only dresses for the game. He starts on jv and silly me, I think I’d rather watch him play for jv as get splinters in his ass on varsity. Of course the only reason he dresses for varsity is that the coaches and the adminstration doesn’t have to worry about his grades.  Not so with some of his junvenile delinquent teammates.  There also aren’t as many jv games as there are varsity. An added bonus, if you ask me. Not that it matters, since he’s driving himself to and from the games this year.

B2 came in my office this afternoon and told me one of the girls she went to middle school with is now pregnant. Good grief. <insert massive eye roll here>.  The girl is no older than fifteen. I understand things happen and I shouldn’t be judgemental, but . . . okay I’ll stop here.

Well, it’s late and I better go pack lunches for tomorrow.  Have a wonderful evening everyone.

Lazy Sunday

Today was uneventful except for the ten loads of laundry and a thousand words I wrote.  A thousand words you ask? YEP. ONE THOUSAND WORDS to my new project and it’s pretty good.  I think.  Here’s the prologue I wrote last week. Any suggestions on how to make it better? Or does it just suck? Go ahead . . . I’m used to it. Don’t be afraid.

Gordon could have pushed his way to one of the long narrow windows, but he didn’t want to see — didn’t have to. Tortured screams filled the courtyard and pierced the thick stone walls of the castle as if they were fine silk instead of sturdy granite, and there was certainly no escaping the pungent odor of burning flesh, for the wind had carried it for miles. No . . . he knew without seeing that everything he knew and loved was gone. His father, off with William Wallace fighting for freedom, his mother one of the burned ones just outside. He didn’t know what happened to his sister. They were separated before he even got to the castle.

He was trapped; just one of their many prisoners – children – rounded up from the countryside, children that must be destroyed, lest ten years from now they return seeking revenge for the brutal massacre of their families.

Relentless sobbing and wailing of toddlers screaming for their now-dead mothers, as well as quiet tears from the older ones enveloped Gordon, smothering him, sucking the air from his lungs. The more he couldn’t breathe, the faster his breaths became and pulled his knees tightly to his chest as if this would somehow stop it. The coolness of the rock wall did nothing to calm him and his heart raced. Fearing his mind would snap any minute, he huddled in the dark corner, closed his eyes and prayed.  This had to be over soon. For better, for worse, dead or alive, it couldn’t last forever.

The doors to the grand room burst open and the cries outside were suddenly silenced . . . or veiled by earsplitting screams inside the walls as filthy men wielding anger, hatred and axes stormed into the room, swinging at the half starved younglings imprisoned there. Older children trampled babies in a vain attempt to escape the slaughter and within seconds the floor was covered with blood, guts, piss and death.

Gordon stood up, half-hidden in the shadows, his mind not fully grasping what his eyes were showing him. Then, out of nowhere, the wild-eyed master of the castle moved swiftly, bringing his blade down on the small boy’s spine as Gordon ducked to deflect the blow. He fell back to his knees and stared at the insane man with pleading eyes. He could see the read streaks in the killer’s eyes and smell the astringent scent of stale wine with every breath this devil sucked in through brown, rotted teeth. It felt as if they stared at each other for hours before Gordon felt a slice of cold wet metal at his throat. Everything went black.

My goal is 1000 words per day. PER DAY. With only the boys playing basketball this isn’t unattainable. Not easy either. I’m determined dammit, I am, I am, I am. Have a good evening.

Yay Saturday! . . . Again?

Darn, it’s been a week since I blogged. I had a few drafts, but I couldn’t get them finished.  Sooo, I’m taking the good parts and pasting them here.

B4 had school basketball practice so I got up after hubby drove off with him and started the sausage for breakfast.  This was around 8:15 am. I whipped up the pancake batter because I only had six eggs. Hubby got back around 9:30 am and I asked if he was ready for breakfast. “

No,” he answered, “I ate at <name of podunk restaurant>. You only had six eggs.”

10 am I saw my first child. B3 picked at the sausage until her friend who slept over woke up.  Then they made eggs themselves. B4 came home around 10:30 and he too, wanted eggs.  Okay eggs are gone. B1 and B2 got up shortly before 11 am and ate pancakes. Breakfast is finally over at lunchtime.  Sometimes I hate cooking for this family.

It’s been a productive week.  I have major characters developed, plot outlined and by Wednesday, I was writing.  I was fifteen hundred words into the beginning. Then . . . I trashed it. Intentionally.  I find that I try to cram too much backstory into my beginnings. So I found the point where the story actually started and pasted the rest into another file. So now I have a beginning that works.

It’s supposed to be upper 70s and sunny today. It will probably be one of the last summer-like days until February, so  I’ve opened up all the windows for a fresh air day.  I love to just “air out all the funk”, but the kids don’t like it.  I have no window screens on the upstairs windows and so far, we’ve had one ladybug and one bumblebee come inside.  Of course hubby is whining about all the ragweed pollen that will surely blow inside and right up his nose. I don’t care. This house is stale and I’m going to do something about it. I wonder if he planned to use that noisy leaf blower today or is it payback?  He was supposed to play golf, but his buddy dropped out at the last minute.

As far a ebook submissions, I’ve submitted two projects to two different epublishers.  So far, I’ve received one full request.  I have a good feeling about this.

Well, the laundry isn’t going to wash itself. I best get moving. Oh, and since the oral surgery I found my teeth have moved around.  A 40 something year old really shouldn’t be wearing a retainer.  But I am.

YAY Saturday!

It wa 35 degrees outside at 6:30 am when hubby had to take B3 to her softball tournament.  Her first game was at 8 am. Brrrr! B4 had basketball practice at 8:30 which was cancelled at the last minute. B2 has ballroom dancing at 12 noon and B1 has a basketball tournament today.

B4 has to go with his football team to accept their award for sportsmanship.  Their team was chosen out of dozens of teams for this award. It wasn’t a division title win or anything, but I’m still having a proud parent moment!

I have a tentative title for my newest idea – THE GHOST OF GORDON WALLISH.  Whatcha think? I have the idea written (which is the start of my query!) so this weekend will be spent on the synopisis, character definitions, etc. Also on my agenda is laundry and grocery shopping.

On Second Thought . . .

Okay, I’m done thinking about Create A Space.  The concept, while innovative allows anyone to publish, which I knew before considering the site.  And, this would be fine if the authors would write, re-write, edit, send to beta readers, edit again and then publish their novels.  In other words, take pride in their work. But I studied some of the previews on the site and quite honestly, they resembled first drafts and some of them were just downright awful. My twelve-year-old has a better voice.  I clicked on about ten, but couldn’t find one that drew me in and only a couple that didn’t make me want to throw up.  Harsh I know, but someone needs to be unapologetically honest here.  People need to know that when they self-publish, their name, reputation and career is on the line and if they take short cuts, potential readers will know (and laugh at you). In other words, “hey dumbass, don’t publish a first draft . . . amateur.”

 I’m sure there are many of the self published books that are well written and the author did all the right things. But I’m not going to showcase my novels in a way that would reflect negatively just by the company they keep.  I have enough problems.  Perhaps an e-publisher . . . we’ll see. I still have two fulls out on one though, so fingers crossed!

I just dropped B2 off at a JV football game, B1 is at a school soccer game so it’s time to relax.

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Innovative, Desperate or Downright Foolish

Before I start, the latest issue of THE SCRUFFY DOG REVIEW is out.  I lurve the new look.  And . . . check out my book review in the latest issue.

I haven’t decided anything yet, but today, I got another “close, but I’m going to pass” rejection from a really nice and successful agent. That leaves two fulls still outstanding.

I’m thinking about self-publishing with Create A Space by Amazon.  Just one of my novels. I’ve googled, yahooed and binged and couldn’t find much information that is negative. Not like with some self-publishers that masquerade as traditional publishers.  I’ve also searched public writing forums (Man, I forgot what a pathetic cesspool Writers.net is) and could find nothing really negative.  My logic is simple:

Midlist Authors are finding it harder to get and maintain contracts with the big houses. See Salon article here.  KN, a highly successful agent and author of PubRants eludes to the current situation here.

The book I’m considering was received well during the query stage. The only consistent feedback was the market. Most agent rejections on this piece were encouraging. 

While publishing a book with Create-A-Space doesn’t get an author in brick and mortar stores, it does get the book listed at Amazon.com, without the high price tag that comes with LuLu or others. 

Most of the marketing work in today’s industry is done by the author or the author and their agent. See my Scruffy Dog Review blog about it here.  I’d planned to take the Buzz Your Book course that M.J. Rose offers anyway, if it ever happened.

What could a small publisher offer me that Amazon can’t? Even with a successful publisher like Brown Barn Books or Blooming Tree Press, the odds of getting into brick and mortar stores is high.  And once the book goes out of print, then what? No books, no link on the publishers website, no nothing.

I’ve put countless hours into my work. It’s good and I know I’m a good writer. That’s not enough anymore.  I’m not that lucky. The stars never align in my favor.  Nothing I have has ever been handed to me. If I want it, I know I’ll have to work for it.

I’m not saying I’m doing it, but it is definitely an option.  If I shouldn’t, please stop me.