Change is in the air...

So half of January has slipped by but not entirely unnoticed, at least by yours truly.

I've been working hard. I committed on the Cherry Forums, over at Jenny Crusie's blog, to do at least one submission per month (for those of you who REALLY know me, you know my weakness is not submitting enough) and I set my monthly goal as one chapter per week on the WIP. So far I'm on target, or maybe a tad ahead. I'm up to chapter six of the new manuscript.

I've re-written my query (of an already completed manuscript) based on some feedback from Jessica Faust over at Bookends Literary Agency. She ran a contest in December and we were allowed to submit our first paragraph as a pitch. I was lucky enough to be critiqued and what Jessica had to say really resonated. So, I have a new query letter but am holding off submitting until Mercury gets through its retrograde. I mean, why risk it, right? Communications can go awry under Mercury's craziness. Seriously, I'm not procrastinating, the minute that planet changes course my query letter goes out. And this time it's going to five agents at a time. No more of this send to one and be loyal and wait forever for an answer. Nope. This time I'm getting serious.

Tonight I watched Dateline and cried bucketloads regarding Barack Obama's rise to
becoming the 44th President of the United States of America. The review of our history, that step back in time, made me cry. So sad. So shameful. All I can say is what a journey and thank God it's behind us and we can move forward and hopefully repair a lot of that damage. May we never again lose sight of the fact that all humans are created equal. I love this man, and his gorgeous wife and his family. His beautiful smile makes me happy. I can be having the crappiest day and then I listen to him and somehow he makes it all seem okay.

I know we can! I know I can! I have hope.

My eyes are tearing up again just writing this. Good heavens, can you imagine what a cry baby I'm going to be on Tuesday? All I know is I'll be glued to the television, 'cause I'm not planning to miss a thing.

How about you?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year, a day or so early, but that's to catch the people down under who will celebrate tonight. Also, in case I imbibe tomorrow night and forget to post. Just kidding.

I went to a "between the holidays" party last night and it was a fabulous gathering of friends and neighbors. About twenty or so of us, and I was the youngest and once again, the only single. I've got to do something about that. All of the couples talked about how they share the household duties now that the hubbies have retired. I never knew how many men do the vacuuming and don't mind the chore. One guy, Vic, not only vacuums, he cooks. So my challenge in 2009? Find myself a Vic.

The party hosts made a lovely spread, there were a variety of cheeses and dips and drinks on the patio (two lovely gas warmers kept us toasty) then we went inside where four tables were set, four big crockpots of what they call stoup, bubbled pleasantly and filled the house with an amazing aroma. I thought it was a cross between chili, stew, and minestrone soup. Anyway, whatever, it was delicious. First you put a few nachos on the bottom of the bowl then added the soupy mixture of meat, kidney beans, corn, tomato, etc. on top, then added a dollop of sour cream, grated cheese and finely chopped spring onion. Delish. Add in a nice hefty merlot, crisp field greens salad, warm bread rolls, and you have a little slice of heaven.

The conversation was fabulous and rowdy. I think I was talked into joining the once a month Bocce game. Bocce, red wine, camaraderie. Maybe I'll go. Dessert was mini chocolate eclairs and profiterole, along with coffee and a dessert wine if desired. I left at that point, one of each dessert in hand, and ate those on my short walk home. It's probably the only celebration I'll do for New Year's Eve. Knowing me, I'll snuggle down in front of the fire, hug the dog, have a glass of wine, and watch an old movie.

So, whatever you choose to do, may your New Year celebration be warm, fun, and shared with those you care most about. And may we all find 2009 to be a brighter spot in our lives than it's predecessor. Here's to hope and change!

Seasons Greetings!

Whatever you personally celebrate, Hannukah, Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Kwanzaa, or the Seinfeld holiday of Festivus, I truly hope your special time is warm and wonderful and shared with those you love. And if that isn't possible this year, at least celebrate with cherished memories of loved ones far away.

We have another storm coming into Southern California today. Here in the desert, we still have snow on the mountain tops from the two storms last week. Brrrr. Strange weather everywhere, and I'm wondering if this storm will give us a truly white Christmas. The kids are coming down at some point during the Christmas to New Year period. Not sure exactly when. We've become pretty relaxed with our plans in the last few years. That seems to suit all of us. No pressure. No commitments broken. No having to drive in awful weather conditions. And while I wait, I write. So it's all good.

Because it has turned so cold here, I've decided to re-enact an old family tradition. Years ago, we had a little place up in Park City, Utah. We got to use the place for two vacations a year and the kids and I always looked forward to our ski trip, or summer hiking trip, the rest of the time it was rented out. We always provided a few videos of favorite movies, music tapes, and video games, for our guests to use. One of the movies was Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, with Steve Martin and Michael Caine. Every time we'd go up there we'd watch that movie. Every single time, without fail. It still makes me smile.

An old writing buddy gave me a CD of the movie five years ago when I told her that story. It was a favorite of hers. So thank you Gina, I'm lighting a fire, pouring a nice glass of Aussie Shiraz and watching the movie tonight. I'll be thinking of you my friend, my kids, days when I could still ski, winters in Park City ... ah, the memories.

This morning I went marketing for all kinds of non-perishable young people treats. Things I never keep in the house because I'd eat them and regret it later ... so, hope the kids arrive soon.

Munch, munch.

Twinkle lights and twinkle toes!

Everyone in my neighborhood is doing their bit to increase the holiday fun. In years past I've decorated a little, never really going all out tacky. But twinkle lights were appearing everywhere around the lake in great numbers through this week and I grew increasingly envious for some of the good cheer. While my house isn't on the water and it only has a small frontage to decorate I figured I should not be such a grumpy-puss and get out the lights.

Just stringing the lights was fun and put me in a more joyful mood. I left the front door open, played Christmas Carols from a CD that Bank of America gave me years ago as a thank you gift (back in the day when I had some money saved and banks had money to give away on free gifts) and I had orange cranberry scones cooking in the kitchen. It was all warm and inviting. All I needed was a fire in the fireplace to set the scene, but it was a gorgeous day in the high seventies with blue skies and bright sunshine. A typical winter's day in the California desert.

I'd started to wonder when our seasons would change out here. We only have a short winter but so look forward to it after a long, hot, dry summer. Extra long and crispy this year. Anyway, this morning I woke up at six a.m. and it was freezing. Had to put the heat on before breakfast. That has put a huge smile on my face and my toes are tapping out a rythm to the music playing in the background.

Suddenly it feels like the holidays! Yay! I could go dancing. Or maybe I could go buy some more lights.

Hope your holiday season is warming up!

Counting my blessings!

Just got back from a weekend in Los Angeles, my old stomping ground. The drive up was quite an experience with huge mushroom clouds of multi-colored smoke to the left of me, trees swaying in the extremely high winds, the car being buffeted about like it was a weightless toy, and on the horizon a layer of smog over the city that looked like gray meringue. The day prior, the winds had reached 76 mph and it seemed they'd whip up and switch paths on a whim. So many fires, so much tragedy. I couldn't watch the evening news without tearing up. Today, when I returned to the desert I had to keep the headlights on as the smoke was so thick in places and the visibility was poor. There were at least four fires raging in Southern California.

I've no idea what it would be like to lose everything but came close after the Northridge earthquake when my house was damaged. The aftershocks continued for months, recreating the terror of yet another hideous event. It really was the most frightening thing I'd ever experienced. Such a loss of control. Such fear. It's been years, but I still recall those feelings as if it was yesterday.

So all of this makes me ask, "Why do I live here?" It can't really be just for the weather. In fact I'm sitting on top of the San Andreas fault and we are long overdue for a big earthquake in Southern California. You'd think I'd be smart enough to get my ass out of town. But no. I stay. Sometimes I think I'm no more mature than a teenager. I'm invincible. Hah! I'm not invincible, I'm trapped. I retired to the desert communities with the idea of going small. A modest house, small yard, less expenses, live out my old age in the heat. Then the bottom fell out of the market and left me with an overpriced house. I'd have to put money into it to sell it. How can that be possible? Where did I go wrong in my planning?

Then I pause and quit my moaning and groaning. I still have my home, my treasures, my family. I still have a roof over my head and my heart breaks for those who have lost theirs. I promise to give thanks for my blessings every day. To be grateful for what I have and to give back to those who are suffering in these hard times, times made even harder by Mother Nature.

The itchies!

I'm not sure if this is seasonal but I've had the itchies to take a writing course, go back to school, or learn something. Anything. Perhaps it's because I'm between stories, putting the polish on a couple of projects but haven't started anything new in a while. Hmmm?

Anyway I've been trolling college and writing websites looking at classes available. I missed the fall sign up for most but I found two that start in November. One is right here in the Coachella Valley, the other is online. One is with someone I've never heard of, the other is taught by a romance writer of fifty novels. One is super expensive, one not too bad. So, I've continued to procrastinate. Do I really NEED another course? Do I really NEED to spend the money? By the time I make up my mind registration will be closed. Ha ha.

In years past I've treated myself to a fall conference, or writer's retreat, and it has always jump-started my next book, or improved on the one I was currently writing. With the economy unstable I'm hesitant to commit to anything too expensive. Last week I had a brainwave, figured I could just take out all of the self help writing books that line my bookshelves and give myself a refresher course. There are many books I haven't re-read in four or five years.

I started writing in 2000 and gradually added books to my library, starting out with simple material and moving up to tougher subjects like those in Robert McKee's, Story. It's amazing what this refresher has done for me. I started out with Deb Dixon's, Goals, Motivation and Conflict, then, Writing the Fiction Synopsis, by Pam McCutcheon, then What Would Your Character Do? by Eric and Ann Maisel. Finally I read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers, by Renni Browne and Dave King. Today I tinkered with my current story and it is enlightening how much my little at-home schooling has helped. Soon, very soon, I'll start a new project and think I'll be far better equipped for having taken this time out to refresh and refill the well.

My birthday weeks!

This year it seems my birthday celebrations lasted for two weeks. Many friends who knew my children were visiting this weekend, celebrated with me last week. And as we are all into being conservative and watching our budgets, we chose simple ways in which to celebrate. I had a wonderful time and it was, I think, more meaningful this year than in earlier years where I celebrated without a care in the world.

My Aussie family began their calls and emails a few days in advance of my special day. This was one of those big "O" birthdays (or is that big OH birthday?) so everyone but me thought of it as super special. I figure at my age it doesn't matter anymore. It's only a number. I have my health and energy, I have my kids, my family, my dog ... what else does a gal need? Well, maybe a healthy economy for starters, but that's another whole story.

The kids took me to lunch at The Mission Inn, in Riverside, yesterday and surprised me with a gorgeous necklace. It was tasteful and something I'll treasure for years to come. The meal was wonderful, the company worth more than anything, and the waiter took a photo of the three of us and presented it to me in a little folder. What a great thought. I have it on my computer desk and although I look like I've been spooked the kids are gorgeous. The Inn is fabulous, it reminds me of Europe. I love the sound of the mission bells pealing on the hour. Love the decorative black wrought iron balconies that open out to the patio dining. Love the stained glass windows, the beautiful antiques throughout the hotel.

My daughter had called me a few weeks ago and we had a conversation about surprise parties. I told her firmly how much I hate them. It was quite a discussion. Anyway she confessed yesterday, they'd thought of giving me one, and she'd started to look into how to connect me and my friends when many of us are separated by great distance. Whew! Thank heavens we'd had that discussion. I sure dodged a bullet. So for those of you who live far afield, thanks for your help in this matter. Grin. It is very much appreciated.

I've done no real writing since the beginning of October. I'll open a manuscript folder and do a little polish here and there, but that's all. I'm about to write a new story though, and had put off starting until after the birthday. Once I begin, I know I'll slip off the radar for a bit. I always do. It's cooler now in the desert, thank goodness as our summer was long this year. Within a week I'll take the laptop outside and do several hours of writing in the cool morning air, I can feel the itch. It's a good feeling.

This Crazy World in Which We Live

Times are hard for all of us right now. With trouble on Wall Street, unhappiness on Main Street, confusion everywhere, I've decided to stay home, do yoga, write, and watch my new goldfish swim in their aquarium. I'm all for maintaining sanity.

I'm not advocating being an ostrich and sticking one's head in the sand, we all have to do our bit for the economy and the state of the world. But let's not go crazy and worry ourselves sick, okay? I figure if Bush, Obama, and McCain can keep their heads while all about them are losing theirs ... all I can say is, I'm glad that I'm me and not one of them. Yikes!

I figure stay home and use less gas in my car, read more, learn more about what is happening in the world, make wise choices. I don't have a lot of investments but what I do have are diversified. They'll rebound ... eventually. My house is worth less than what I paid for it three years ago. If I sit tight it will gradually rise in value. Meanwhile I'm paying down the mortgage and increasing my equity.

I've become a smarter shopper. Gone are the times of buying whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. Now I weigh the pros and cons. The same goes for travel. The same goes for dining out and entertainment. Europe isn't going anywhere. I can wait five years. I'm enjoying trimming my budget of expenses that are not necessary to my overall happiness. It makes me proud whenever I cut something. And, I'm feeding the pig. A percentage of my money is saved every month. It's not huge but it's something.

On the plus side of our crazy world, I'm reading more. Every afternoon I finish my writing, grab a diet coke, and sit in the recliner. Two hours of reading takes me to a place I knew growing up in a big noisy family. Hey, living with six siblings is no picnic, and it fills the need for adventure, romance, excitement, suspense, whatever it is I'm craving. I've always been a reader, just haven't given it the dedication I now do. Just finished John Grisham's novel, Playing for Pizza. It transported me to a small town in Italy, walking those streets, eating those foods, hearing the local language. And, in addition, I learned more about American football than I'd ever known.

Check it out. It's highly entertaining.

My Pool Buddy

Since my knee surgery I've been doing the exercises suggested by the physiotherapist every day, in the pool. Part of that is because it's still so awfully hot here, and part is because I'm convincing myself that I'm getting twice the workout for my effort.

Anyway, I walk the dog, come home, take a quick shower and put on my bathing suit and by eight thirty I'm in the pool. I usually swim a few laps to warm up first. Several of the exercises require different water levels. Like when I stretch out my hamstrings I need to be at about the four feet level. I grip the edge of the coping and stretch for fifteen seconds then alternate legs and repeat several times (who wants one toned skinny leg and one chubby one, eh?) By the time I'm doing this stretch it's close to nine.

In the last week I've noticed that I'm not alone. A little beige-colored spider with long golden legs comes to join me. The first day I met my pool buddy he/she was floating in the water but I could see the spider was still alive. I scooped it up and threw the handful of water (and spider) onto the deck. Spidey, as I've come to name it, got up on those lovely long legs and ran away toward the shrubs that surround the outside of the wrought iron fence. I felt quite good about that. I'd saved a life.

I decided Spidey was a girl because of the legs. Yesterday she came down the deck at almost nine o'clock and scooted over the coping and ran up and down the tile. I wondered if she was trying to get a drink of water, but before I could decide, and because I was making small waves, she was washed off the side and into the pool. I scooped her up and we went throught the same procedure as the day before. I did lecture her a bit about being more careful, however, today, at exactly the same time, she returned and again fell into the pool. I tossed her back out. She ran home in the same direction.

Only thing is, I'm not so sure anymore that Spidey is a girl. The actions are very masculine. Keep risking one's life to ride the waves? Yeah, gotta be a dude. I can't decide if I should leave Spidey to his adventures or keep on saving him from drowning, I figure if Spidey is indeed a guy, he goes back to the Spider Bar and tells his buddies:
"Yeah, so there I am riding the waves, and some human gets in and splashes around, nearly kills me. Then there's a tidal wave and I get washed onto the deck. It was thrilling I tell ya'. Same thing happened yesterday, and again today. I'm going to try it again tomorrow. Maybe I'll even go to the deep end."

If Spidey's a girl she goes to the nest and says, "Darn another day without a bath. That human has got to go. She keeps scooping me up and throwing me onto the deck. I'm going back tomorrow and if she tries it again, I swear, I'll bite her."

Hard at work.

This has been a week or two of hard work. I gave myself a challenge with a completed manuscript. Trim it and use the exercise to learn how to write tight. This, as many of you know, means killing off your darlings. Jenny Crusie taught me that. But, I may have also killed a manuscript. Ha, ha. It was a risk, but one that energized me. I had this one line that I loved on the bottom of the second page and I kept trimming all around it until I realized it had to go. It ended up like a pimple right on the end of your nose. No amount of concealer could hide it. It just stuck out there, all red and throbbing, drawing all kinds of attention. But you know, when I finally cut it, it was okay. I felt a certain relief that it was gone. Yet, I'd loved that line for so many months. Strange, huh?

I'm going through another stage of thinking I should be more proactive. I'm such a wuss. I take little baby steps and research an agent or two then remain loyal while awaiting their rejection to my query or partial submission. It's so sad. I've decided to do what Bob Mayer told me years ago, get at least batches of five or ten queries out at a time. It's going to be difficult for me though. It's not my style. I feel like I'm cheating. However, I have two stories that I think are polished and ready to go. I had to withdraw my submission from an agent who I would have enjoyed feedback from. Maybe some time in the future she'll let me resubmit. That was the manuscript I'd trimmed, and I'm talking deep edits here. From 86,000 words to 62,000. I love the story. I've sent it off to Silhouette to see if it suits their Romantic Suspense line. Who knows? It might. It would be great if it did, because if not then it has nowhere to go. It would be too short for any other house.

My son came to visit last weekend. It was lovely to have company. The dog was thrilled. Summer months are hard in the desert because we go out early to walk, then walk in the late evening once it cools down. There's this huge long day in which I entertain myself by writing and the dog just moves around the house choosing different spots in which to nap. I think she was quite depressed to find out on Monday that life had returned to it's same slow pace.

If it hadn't been for the Summer Olympics I'd have died of boredom this year. Now I have the humor of politics for a while, that keeps me entertained. Plus reading. I usually read at least four books a week. Yesterday I picked up a book at the market. It was by an author I love and I didn't recognize the title or the cover, so didn't even read the back cover copy. I was pretty mad when I got home and discovered it was a re-release of one of her books from five years ago, they just slapped on a new cover. I hate that. When Nora Roberts' books are re-released it says so on the cover. I mean what avid reader can remember commercial fiction she read from four or five years ago?

Two of my writing buddies had excellent news this week. One got a request from Harlequin to hurry up and send the rest of her manuscript. Like they wanted it pronto! The other got her contract from the agent of her dreams. Way to go ladies. It's my turn next. Heh. Yay! It's nearly September. Two or three more weeks and we'll be back to gorgeous days and even more wonderful evenings. I can't wait. So now, back to the keyboard to write so I can have time to play once the cool weather arrives.

The creative mind.

The creative mind is a strange thing. I'm always in awe of it, even my own.

I had outlined a new story somewhere in the middle of writing my last one and I liked it although it would have been much darker than I'd ever attempted. I was positive I would write it next. After returning from RWA National I've put in six hour days polishing Unlock the Truth. I totally ditched the first chapter and think the pace is much faster, which makes the book stronger.

So, in the midst of all of this work and enjoying my current manuscript all over again, another story nudged me. When I allowed it to take shape I had a strong beginning and some interesting characters. I even had the title and that has not changed. It has become my next book. The thing is, the story is light in tone. It has, at the moment at least, glimpses of comedy. I don't write comedy. I'm not funny. Everyone who knows me knows I don't do funny. So what's up?

While I'm amused at the thought of writing a romantic comedy, I doubt I will. It has a mystery element though, so I might expand on that aspect and turn it into a suspense. Who knows? I'm figuring by the end of this month I'll have started it and will see where it takes me. The creative muse is certainly strange, we never know where or why our stories emerge like they do. For me, at first they're shadows or fleeting thoughts and I try to ignore them, especially if I'm working on something else. Gradually, over a few weeks, I find I dream or daydream full scenes. Before I know it I'm fleshing out the characters and the plot. Then a synopsis or outline forms in my mind and I begin any research.

Once I know the ending, that's usually it. I'm so excited I have to write the story. It's quite an adventure, really.

You should try it.

Taken down by a shrimp.

There was an unusual mood to this conference, one I have never experienced before at RWA. It seemed the energy in San Francisco was low. Both inside and outside of the hotel. I'd arrived early with the intention of combining the conference with a mini-vacation. The only one I'd allowed myself this year. Sadly to say I got no vacation and very little conference but I did pay a hefty price to sleep in a hotel bed.

Walking outside of the hotel was beyond depressing. Maybe it's a reflection of our current economic situation, or has SF gone downhill since my last visit? Side-stepping a scruffy man seated with his back pressed to the wall and spitting gobs of phlegm in my direction was beyond yuck on the yuck-o-meter. Side-stepping a pool of vomit in the street was disgusting. Watching people beg and panhandle and smelling the great unwashed was not pleasant. Gripping my purse to my side while walking the street was not pleasant. Viewing the high-priced items called memorabilia but that resembled the worst schlock I've ever seen, was disheartening. But the whole scenario also left me feeling saddened. This was once a city of great beauty, a place that on my first visit took my breath away. What happened?

Back in the hotel the prices were astronomical. I'm a world-wide traveller and don't mind paying for quality but resent being stiffed. I thought I was being stiffed. On everything.

Then I got sick. I guess I met a shrimp I didn't like, or that didn't like me. I went to the 39th level bar to meet a friend. Hadn't eaten so decided the way over-priced shrimp coktail was a good idea. The following day I came down with chills and took to my bed. When I awoke I couldn't make it to the bathroom to throw-up and grabbed the waste basket. Thank goodness the basket was metal and not a woven bamboo. Anyway, who knew someone could throw up as much as moi? I went to management to make a report convinced I had food poisoning as I never get ill like that. Management said there'd been no other complaints. After that I was determined to flush every remaining bad thing from my body. I drank so much water I squished when I walked. *grin*

So I missed two networking parties, many workshops, many get togethers with old friends. I considered cancelling the rest of the trip and going home but didn't feel strong enough to travel. I spent most of two days in my room. Fortunately I'd lugged my laptop along on the trip. On the plus side I put some polish on my manuscript and began brainstorming another story. Also, I felt a lot better by the night of the awards ceremony. Krissie (Anne Stuart) won a Rita in the romantic suspense category for Ice Storm. That was fabulous. Congratulations again, Krissie!

And I read Homecoming, a wonderful inspirational by Jill Marie Landis. I've never been big on inspirational stories. I was raised in the Christian faith, then converted to Judiasim for my husband and to raise my children Jewish. After divorcing I explored my own beliefs and took journey's into Eastern religions, spirituality, quantum physics, etc. I never thought I'd enjoy a story with a strong Bible influence. I was wrong. I guess it all goes back to the quality of the writing, to the storytelling. I love Jill's work, adore her voice, and that was why I was willing to give this book a chance. By the first page I was hooked. This is such a beautifully crafted story about finding the truth to who we are on a deep inner level, where we truly belong, and having and trusting the faith to find out. It touched my heart.

It's Wednesday today, one week after meeting the shrimp that took me down. I can finally say I'm feeling back to normal. Will I ever eat shrimp again? I don't think so. Will I re-visit San Francisco? I doubt it. Will I go to National in D.C. next year? You bet.

Metabolism and other energy related matters ...

I've been devouring Robert K. Cooper's book, Flip the Switch. It's all about fueling your metabolism and burning fat. I get on my spinner cycle and start pedaling and reading and before I realize it an hour has slipped by. Not bad, killing two birds so to speak, not that I like killing birds or anything. Heck, I even scoop up insects and set them free outdoors ... well some insects, the big scary ones that give me a shudder and a chill up the spine, they get whacked.

The knee is doing fine, but the leg tires when I stand for long periods, or walk around the shopping malls. I know, I know, stop shopping. *grin* But, hey somebody has to fuel our sagging economy. Also, it's almost conference time and I need a couple of new items of clothing. It's rather sad, this shopping thing. I had a bunch of $15 and $25 coupons to use at a major department store and could even use them for on sale items. Yippee! A couple of days ago I drove to the nearest mall, but no such luck. Who is designing these clothes and for whom? If you are a size two with no breasts you might be in luck. But puffed sleeves? Cut me a break. And the colors? Yikes!

I decided on a black pant suit thinking how could I go wrong. It looked perfect on the rack. Dainty little pintucks down the front of the jacket, interesting snap buttons, three quarter sleeves (perfect for summer) and a nice slimming line to the pant. It was awful! On the rack it was great, on me I looked pregnant. The jacket had a flare to it and fell straight from my breasts into something that looked suspiciously like a short maternity smock. Been there, done that, never want to go back.

And speaking of energy, I'd better read that book again. It's Saturday and I realized this morning there have been no business cards printed, must get to that today, because after all I'm going for the networking this year. I'm not doing any appointments with editors or agents. Speaking of which, I don't have a pitch for my latest work. Hmmm. Now I do have two partial manuscripts out with two different literary agencies, and I like and respect both agents and would be thrilled if either one signed me on. But as we all know, having someone "looking" at your work does not a guarantee make. Time to knuckle down and write an elevator pitch. For those non-writer friends and family, that's a short pitch you can do in sixty seconds while in the elevator (thus the name) or standing in a lunch line, or standing in the long, long, long line to use the restroom. It's handy to have when someone asks, "What do you write?" It helps tremendously if you don't answer, "Books." *grin*

Okay, so no shopping today. I'll stick to the tried and true clothes that I already have in the closet. They never get worn in the desert anyway. It's shorts and flip-flops if you go out in this heat, and barely nothing if you stay indoors. And it will be lucky to get to 75 degrees in the middle of the day in San Francisco, so maybe I should check my fall clothing. There's an idea.

Fun weekend

So I went up to L.A. on Friday for a friend's book launch. What a lovely event. This was Trish Albright's debut book, Siren's Song. Trish is a Disney Imagineer and travels all over the world for her work. She is always having amazing adventures and when we were in a critique group together there was always an hour of laughter and rapid conversation as we "stay at homes" got swept up and into her latest happenings. It's logical that she would put that same fabulous energy into the written word, and Siren's Song does not disappoint. It's a great pirate adventure set in Morocco in 1787.

The event was held at Big Buddha Baba Productions in L.A. and Trish had a huge number of friends and family come out to support her. It was nice to catch up with a couple of my other writing buddies from LARA as I didn't make the last meeting and won't make the next one either. There was even a man in a pirate costume who read the first chapter of the novel and did a superb job. The food was excellent and plentiful and so was the generous bar. My daughter came with me and we had a fun time. Driving through Hollywood is always a fun time, but with my daughter at the wheel, believe me it's even funner.

We had dinner out, and got sick from eating too much. We had lunch out with my son and his girlfriend and got sick from eating too much. We watched way too much television. We ate way too much chocolate. We drank way too much Pinot Grigio. We laughed way too hard at so many things.

The good thing is my knee survived all of the ordeal, including the two and a bit hours of driving up and back to L.A. Plus I got to wear real clothes and shoes. None of this shorts and tank-tops and flip-flops attire that I live in in the desert during the summer months. It was a dry run for going to the RWA National conference. All I have to say on that topic is I have two weeks in which to (a) further strengthen the knee (b) take off a few pounds (c) buy a few more "real" clothes. The only problem is I have to take off the three pounds I put on with all of the "way too much stuff" before I can go shopping. Guess I'll be doing that the day before leaving. Or not. Do you think flip-flops and tank-tops would work for a national writers conference?

The week from hell...

All I can say is pleeeease, let this one be over soon. I'm tired just thinking about it. It seems everything I touched this week got messed up, and heck, Mercury isn't even retrograde.

The electrical in the wall for the microwave, gas range, and two power points blew a fuse. I of course tried the electrical panel, tripped the breakers several times ... nothing. I called numerous electricians, nobody answered. I kept my fingers crossed that the microwave hadn't gone pffft on me, 'cause I was using it at the time, along with my brand spanking new toaster. That baby must pull a lot of energy.

Finally a friend advised me to call the handyman from our development. I'm kind of funny about electrical stuff. Don't want someone tinkering where they shouldn't be tinkering. But, I was desperate. He came over and tripped those breakers in one second. Guess my wrists are not too strong these days. You'd think they would be with all the typing. Oh well, good news it only cost me the $20 I palmed him.

Then the dog started to yelp every time she scratched near her ear and she walked with a strange tilt to her head. She'd shake her head so violently her ears would flap and you could hear her from a different room in the house. I thought hmmm, is there a bug in her ear? I need all the spare dollars I can get for National conference this month and did not relish the idea of a vet bill. Out came the flashlight, on went the glasses. Couldn't see anything wrong in there but for some odd reason the dog thought I was making it better. Those big dog ear canals are very deep. She'd come and sit next to me and tilt her head all evening. I'd accommodate her by having another look. Still nothing.

Next day, and $208 later, she was diagnosed with an ear infection and I was given the job of instilling antibiotic drops twice a day, and every other day filling her ear with a wax removing liquid. Now, for me with recent knee surgery, getting to the floor is a hard job. But getting down to doggie level, while holding the 100 pound beast's head and trying to placate her, and positioning the bottle of liquid just so, and trying to get it into the ear and not all over me was nigh on impossible.

Last night I walked the dog at 8PM and almost fell over when the toe of my sneaker caught a raised edge of the pavement. I lurched forward, managed to prevent myself from falling and jarred my knee. Last night I didn't sleep. I took Tylenol and iced the knee down but couldn't shake off the pain. Got up and worked on my novel at 2AM for an hour or so. Drank milk. Went back to bed until 6 AM. Had to get up because in these temperatures you have to walk the dog by 7 AM or you're in trouble. So got back home without mishap and realized the dreaded wax treatment was due. I figured, sit in the computer chair and do the treatment, it was the perfect level. I succeeded in getting the oily wax treatment done and she immediately shook her head and sprayed oil over the keyboard, the computer screen, my favorite tank top. Oy!

Finally got out of the house around 10 AM, did all of the beginning of the month chores in 112 degree very humid heat, not at all like our normal dry desert conditions and came home feeling like a wrung out dishrag around noon. Found a gusher in my back yard, and I'm not talking overly chatty neighbor. The valve cap on the irrigation system had burst. Turned off the water, found the culprit, unscrewed it and started calling. Handyman had left for the Fourth of July holiday. Gardener had left for a quick trip to Mexico. It finally occurred to me that nobody would be around this long weekend until at least Monday. I figured okay, no problem, how hard could this be? I turned off the water, unscrewed the thing, figured I'd just go out buy another one and put it on myself.

Home Depot doesn't sell this type of valve. I go to Loews, they don't either. However, the guy at Loews tells me the valve company, Richdel, which is written across the top of the broken valve, has been out of business for years. He tells me his gardener could come over and replace the whole thing for me. I see dollars with wings flying out the window. By this time it's 2 PM, I'm drenched. I look like a mad woman, my knee is aching and swollen. I'm almost in tears. I come back home and think about kicking a few walls but remember the knee just in time. I curse, I walk around like a deranged person saying, "I hate this house. I hate this house."

I sit down and open the yellow pages and begin calling plumbing supply places. Almost everyone has a message machine. It's the eve of a four day weekend!!! I finally get a real live human on the phone. A woman. She keeps telling me she can give me a 2 inch valve. I keep telling her I need a 1 inch valve. Eventually I thank her and hang up. I call Ace Hardware. An elderly man answers. He assures me he has a universal cap that will be perfect. I drive to Palm Desert and sure enough, for less than $10 I have what I need. I rush home and do the repair, turn the water back on and all is fine. So, who needs guys and gardeners and electricians and handymen and ... ooops! better clamp the hand over the mouth, with my luck something else will give out tomorrow.

On the plus side, I've been doing a lot of reading on these hot afternoons. Read Anne Stuart's Fire and Ice for Jenny Crusie's book club. It was a fabulous read. Where Anne, or Krissie as we know her, gets her ideas is beyond me. This is part of a series and this one is set in Tokyo. Her characters are amazingly well-drawn and her hero is gorgeous. I loved him. The quintessential bad boy with the tender heart. The pace is incredible, the cultural aspects giving just enough flavor without bogging the story down. I enjoyed asking her questions and hearing her answers.

Then I read my prior critique partner's debut novel, Siren's Song, by Trish Albright. It's a historical romance, published through Dorchester. What a fast-paced, hang on to your seat swashbuckler adventure story that is. Trish does a great job with a tender family story, a fab romance, adventure on the high seas, and a memorable spunky heroine. I say move over Johnny Depp there's a new swashbuckler in town, and a girl no less.

After the pace of those two books I curled up yesterday with Susan Mallery's new book, Sweet Talk. What a superb story. It was such an easy flowing read, a beautiful narrative voice, nice even pacing and so many tender moments it left me wanting more. I loved all of her carefully crafted characters, and their individual story. It was perfect and a great HEA.

Good news.

The Doctor is thrilled with my rehabilitation. Yay! I only have to go to physio one more time, and I'm allowed to swim. I can gradually increase the walking distance but must not push myself too hard. I now have a new set of "at home" exercises to do, they take about forty-five minutes and I'm pooped afterward. Plus, I can use the spinner bike and gradually increase the tension. And this isn't even the three week marker.

So today I walked the dog for thirty minutes, came home and jumped in the pool. Then I showered and washed my hair, went to physio, came home an hour and a half later and took a nap. When was the last time you had a nap at 11:30 in the morning? Heh. It felt so bizarre but I'd turned on the computer scrolled down to the chapter I intended to work on and was hit by a huge wave of tiredness. By one o'clock I was typing away and doing great. Sometimes you just have to listen to your body.

The San Francisco National is looming on the horizon and I toyed with driving up, but with gas at $4.67 cents a gallon, and the parking fees at the hotels in the range of $45 to $50 per night it isn't worth it. I love to travel by car. Love the independence and the peace and quiet. It's great thinking time and my WIP will be completed by then so it would have been a good chance to brainstorm with myself over my next project.

I already have a story idea and setting, and two wonderful main characters but the plot needs to be fleshed out. What are the conflicts these two will have, what external adventures and catastrophies will they deal with, what internal emotions and barriers will come tumbling down? Hmmmm? I love this part it's very exciting. I actually got the idea for this story because of the hotel I stayed in at the Dallas National last year. It has been on the back burner ever since. It's another mystery/suspense. A little darker than I've written so far but I'm looking forward to tackling it. But first, I must finish up the last few chapters of Unlock the Truth, let it simmer for a couple of weeks while I put the final polish on Saving Sarah.

This is a great time for writing for me because it's too darn hot to go outside. We had a week of high teens temperatures. One day it reached 119 degrees but for the better part of the week it hovered between 114-116 degreees. The problem is it doesn't cool down at night, so you wake up at 6 AM and it's 90 degrees. At 8 PM it can still be 104 degrees. You have to be creative in finding dog walking time.

When I start the new story, my side project will be to revisit Gone Tropical and give it a major overhaul. I still love that story, it's very dear to me and I had such fun writing it. I didn't shop it around much but one agent I trust and one Editor I respect, did read the entire manuscript and gave me some much needed advice. I think it's worth revisiting.

So, I'm happy, life is pretty darn good at the moment. Hope it is for you, too.

Recovery.

No, I'm not talking twelve step programs. For those who have asked me questions about arthroscopy and the recovery process (it seems there are many out there with creaky knees) this is how it worked for me. Day one I was so high on Vicodan I didn't feel a thing. Day two I was a trouper and tried to cut back on medication and move around. Day three I collapsed and could barely walk. My glute had no strength. I could barely lift the leg, it felt like a giant dead fish. Ice was my best friend. Well, that and my recliner chair.

On the sixth day I had my first physiotherapy appointment (do not delay this, do it as soon as you possibly can) and they gave me exercises to do three times a day at home. I went to the appt. using one crutch ... as well ... a crutch. And I used the elevator to the second floor. While the exercises were boring range-of-motion exercises I soon learned that the leg felt better, less stiff, afterward. Plus, embarrasingly, I fell asleep will they did the ten minute electronic stimulus. That felt so goooood! Then ten minutes of ice and I almost floated out of the place.

Day ten I started to walk the dog short distances. It hurt but not in a bad way. Day twelve was my second physiotherapy. I didn't use a crutch or a cane. I walked up the two flights of stairs. They added gentle no tension bicycle today, and a few different stretches. The main thing though, they taught me how to walk through from heel to toe and not with a stiff leg, with flexion. It made the world of difference. Tonight I walked the dog and the difference in walking properly to walking like an old lady with a bad knee was incredible. Of course I stretched and iced down the knee before and after walking the dog, but tonight is the first night with no pain. So, there you have it. I've turned a major corner here. I'm excited and happy. By the end of the month my knee will be better than it ever was. And hey, did you see that Tiger Woods did enter the Masters after all, and he won. Yay!

It's 114 degrees here in the desert. I'd love to use the pool but have to wait for the steri-strips to fall off by themselves. Can't risk an infection if the incisions aren't sealed off. Two have fallen off, one left to go. But, I can wait. I'm getting good at waiting and giving things their time. I feel so improved, today I re-registered for the National conference. Now I have a goal. I always work better when I'm working toward a goal.

Second day syndrome

What is it with second day syndrome? If you go out dancing you're more tired the second day than the morning after, same thing as working out too hard at the gym, going hiking or skiing, and as I've just discovered getting over surgery. Now I can understand the second day syndrome with the activities that require excess energy, you coast along on the first day depleting your reserves, but surgery? Heck you lie on an operating table, then in a recovery room bed, then you come home and sit in your recliner and get waited on hand and foot.

I had an arthroscopy on the knee on Thursday and got home around noon. I was high on anaesthesia, morphine, and then Vicodan. I was happy, not feeling a thing. The next morning the pain crept in and I tried to give up the Vicodan which makes me feel sick. I figured ice and Aleve would see me through. By five p.m. I was begging for relief. This morning I woke up to a leg that felt like a huge dead fish. I had no muscle strength to lift the leg, the poor old quadriceps would twitch but not lift. I could even tolerate some weight bearing (of course with the crutches for support if need be) but could not lift the darn leg to even get in and out of the chair or to prop it on a pillow. We took off the outer bandage and the lower part of the thigh was so swollen you couldn't even see a knee cap. Whoever it was who claimed they went dancing on the third day after the same surgery (and it was a guy no less and we women all know what babies they are about pain) all I have to say is big fat liar.

My daughter has been fabulous. She has listened to me griping, jumped to attention with every movement I've made, even second guessed most of my needs. Today she cleaned the whole place before leaving, without being asked, and this is a girl who hates housework. My son is on his way down and he gets the job of taking me for my first Doctor's appointment. That should be fun. Other interesting thing, no shower until evening on Monday, can't wash my hair either unless I do it in the kitchen sink. I don't think so. Knowing me I'd spill water everywhere , slip and break my a$$.

On the plus side, we've watched the Stanley Cup finals, the first game of the Lakers/Celtics finals, the movies Moonstruck, Twenty-Seven Dresses, and Mad Money. Last night we pigged out on pizza which I haven't had in six months. All things I rarely bother doing when I'm on my own. Whenever there is spare time I use it to write, and I'm always trying to chase off the last ten pounds of whatever diet I'm kidding myself I'm on. I'm betting Sunday night we watch another Lakers game and eat more pizza. I see an additional five pound weight gain in my near future.

But, it's all good. This, without the annoyance of the flabby dead fish leg, is like a vacation. I love spending time with my kids, they're always entertaining. It's hard for me to accept help, I have no trouble aiding others, but recieving? My daughter said this must feel so strange to you Mom, you're always the doer. It's true but you know, this was kind of nice. I could get used to it. Can't you see me as the elderly lady in the pink feather boa reclining in a silk dressing gown on a fainting couch ringing a bell for attention? I think I would have been a great Southern damsel from an early era. "Forget about Rhett. There are plenty more fish in the sea. Bring me another mint julep, dear, and where are the bon-bons?"

Exorcism.

I saw the orthopod yesterday (that's medical language for an orthopedic physician) and got the post MRI news. I tore the medial meniscus and am tentatively scheduled for an Arthroscopy next Thursday. The orthopod had better be good at exorcism because I want that ghost out of my knee ASAP. I questioned doing physiotherapy vs. surgery but he thought I'd given the knee several months to heal on its own and it wasn't happening. I do trust him and I know several people who have had far worse situations that he has handled with expertise. Also, he thinks I'm young. Hah. Okay so he had me at, "We should do this now while you're young and in good shape." I looooove this guy.

I saw the news on Tiger Woods yesterday. He had similar surgery on April 15th and has just cancelled a big golf tournament because his knee is still swelling. Yikes! The orthopod told me I'd recover fairly quickly, a couple of weeks of physio and I'd be fine. I'm wondering if I should cancel RWA National for this year. Maybe I'll rethink everything in late June. Woods is about a quarter my age (just kidding) but heck he's a kid and an athlete, what hope do I have? I'm an old couch potato. Or at least a chip-eating massage-recliner person.

Anyway, on the positive side, while I'm recovering and spending half of my day at physio I'll also have a lot of time to write. I had a request on Sunday from an agent for a proposal of a manuscript that had finalled in a contest. Yay! So I put together the required package and dug out the biography from way back when. It was horrible. So stiff and formal. I decided on a narrative style bio and sent everything off today. Hope she doesn't think I'm a loony tune. I'm still working on the manuscript. It's shaping up nicely and by the time she makes her decision, of whether or not she'd like to see the complete manuscript, I feel confident it will be ready to ship out.

So who says the universe doesn't have a master plan, huh? Force me to stay home and quit playing and I'll finish a manuscript. Not that I'd advise anyone to smash up their knee to get time to finish a story. There are other more comfortable ways. Just sayin'.

Weird happenings.

Okay, so I've got ghosts in the plumbing of one toilet, a ghost in my computer, and a ghost in my right knee. They've all been rumbling and clanking around and causing all kinds of damage for weeks now. Remember, I'm a cheapskate and a Ms. Fix-it (it's the old nurse in me) so pay someone to come take care of the problems? Hell, no, that would be too easy, I'll just keep playing around until I totally wreck all three things.

I quizzed a neighbor who used to be a plumber. He gave some sensible advice. I tried it and for a few days the echo in the pipes everytime I flushed went away. THEY'RE BACK! So my answer, don't use it. Use another one instead, so how come I keep going into that one and not remember what I'd decided until the moment I flush? Sigh. I can see a plumber's fee in my future.

Couldn't figure out why I'd lost the wireless aspect to my laptop. Couldn't use it outside or in the living room. Desktop computer was slow. On Sunday I figured, being Mothers Day I'd send a reminder to my chapter mates about registering for the RWA National conference Agent and Editor appointments to be held Monday morning. At 0600 hours in California. Yikes! Those appointments go swiftly so I also gave pointers to the newbies on how to print up and highlight their wishlist of the top five people interested in the genre they write. I advised they keep it beside their computer because once they'd get to the RWA site they'd find some agent/editors would fill up fast and they might panic and end up with someone who didn't want what they wrote. Sound advice right?

Monday I overslept. Just reached out and turned off the offending alarm. I got to the computer around 0730 cup of coffee in hand, still feeling it would be okay. The RWA computer crashed. I was getting a "This site is not configured" report. Finally called to the office after wasting an hour of trying to refresh the page. They said it would be up again by the afternoon but to check back every hour or so. I did. Still the same message. Finally at almost closing time, I called again. They said maybe delete cookies. I did that, still nothing. I called back and found out the site had only crashed for half an hour around seven in the morning. Now I saw the humor in all of this. I'd been raised to be polite, to never push or be aggressive. But hell, I'm a grown woman now, you'd think I could get past those childish things. Old Ms. Polite here sat on her hands until almost five o'clock.

Today I paid for someone to come and look at both desktop and laptop. He was brilliant. We cleaned everything up and exorcized the ghosts. We found there is only one position my desk can be in to get that DSL/Wireless working properly. I had moved the office around about two months ago, reversing the position of the desk to where it faced the mountains. How weird is that? As soon as we put the desk back underneath the window everything worked. Ghosts I tell you.

The knee went out a couple of months ago. My dog ran into it at top speed. So, I was good and eventually saw an Orthopedic Doctor. He threatened me with an MRI and possible Arthroscopy. I hadn't met my deductible : ) so decided I could fix it myself. I began my own physiotherapy in the pool. Some days it's good other days it gets all hot and cranky. I've seen the Chiropractor and had ultrasound treatments. He's ordered a Cho-Strap to support the patella but, yeah, it's back ordered and won't be here for another week. I've iced the knee down after every time I walk the dog. I'm using the Spinner bike to strengthen the muscles and tendons. Yet still the knee ghost lives on. Now I know it's a ghost because it keeps moving. One day it's sore at the front, the next day the inner aspect. Sometimes it feels swollen behind the knee. Vaccuuming is out of the question. I'm living on Aleve.

Today, in the wake of one success, I decided I've had enough.
Tomorrow I call the plumber and the Ortho guy.