Blurb for my Nanobook....

Well...I can only define this one as ultra sensual chick lit meets mythology. But how fun it was to write:

STONER

~

Fate is so unfair.

Medusa's two Gorgon sisters got to be immortals. But not Medusa. Turned out she was quite mortal. And her life? Totally unfair. Every time she almost got lucky, the man of her desires didn't just get a hard on. He turned completely to stone. Then Medusa completely lost her head over Perseus. That little faux pas landed her in Hades for all Eternity. And as a virgin, too. Well, almost.

Hades cannot face the idea of spending an eternity listening to Medusa whine about her ill-conceived fate. So he makes a deal with Medusa that she can't refuse. She can go back to earth and seek true love. She will get three chances to win a man's heart. If she can manage to do this without turning him to stone, she will not only get laid, she'll earn immortality. But if she fails, she'll spend her eternity as a mannequin in the Peoria Saks Fifth Avenue Factory Outlet, decked out in last season's seventy-five percent off designer seconds.

Either way, Hades wins.

Next thing Medusa knows she's standing buck naked in a dark alley where a group of down on their luck addicts make their homes. At the urging the troubled, but once infamous top-model/crack addict Athena Sebastian, Medusa finds herself spilling her troubles at a narc-anon meeting. "Hi. I'm Medusa. I'm a s-stoner. And I've hit rock bottom...."

Under the tutelage her new support group, Medusa turns her destiny over to a higher power (A Tantric Yoga Master) and embarks full throttle on her twelve step program in hopes of curing herself of her stoner lifestyle once and for all. But Medusa's friend Athena has her own past life ax to grind, and Medusa is the ticket for revenge she's waited an eternity for.

OMG OMG OMG It's RILLY REAL!

I know, I risk sounding like a breezy cheerleader type with the title of this post, but baby, if I had pompoms, I'd be shaking them right now--for MOI!

I got my first contract in the mail today, from Red Sage Publishing, along with a lovely "welcome to the Red Sage family" note. This is the publisher that I targeted as my "first sale" publisher on my birthday of last year. I can't believe it truly happened. But you know what? There's no substute for

1) Butt in Chair, Hands on Keyboard

2) Finishing the stories I start...no matter how awful they seem during that dreaded middle.

Nano and Seventy Days of Sweat are going well. Nothing fires up the muse like the sound of "cha-ching!"

It's a Plot Autopsy!

Well, it is Halloween, thus the morbid subject matter. What better time to play Texas Chainsaw Massacre and rescue my Seventy Days of Sweat manuscript before I end up writing seventy thousand plus words of pointless drivel?

I had a pretty decent idea of where Kiss of the Cerberus was going when I started, but I'm nearly ten thousand words in and my H/h have just officially met--unless you count the voyeur scene. Hello brain? This is a novella. Thirty thousand words, max. So this ain't gonna cut it.

Then, to make matters worse, I ended up with a subplot. And a villain I never expected. And suddenly, my brain is drifting off to other ideas, other stories....because you see, I'm the queen of great beginnings. I'm GOOD at beginnings. They're my comfort zone.

I've a feeling Seventy Days of Sweat is all about breaking past those comfort zones...

And this year, for me has been about buckling down and attaching middles and endings to all those great beginnings traipsing around my hard drive. Yes, there are many.

Too many.

I believe finishing the stories I've started was the right choice, because I just sold the first romance that I actually FINISHED to Red Sage. Finishing is good. Even numerically impaired moi can do this much math:

No end = no contract.

So...I've grounded myself from touching any other manuscript until I've done a plot map of this one and reached the end of my first draft. But I'm not going to write seventy thousand words searching for my story like I did on Heart's Storm.

So, its Halloween, but when it comes to writing, I've learned there really is no trick. You just plant your butt in the chair and do it. And in order to get to my treat...(the end), I'm going to have to work smarter. Which means I'm going to have to sit down and :gasp:...plot.

I'll put a photo of my plot map up tomorrow. Hold me to it. :D

And...nanowrimo starts in just a few days! EEP!

Chained to the Keyboard...by choice!

Do you think I can write 70,000 words in seventy days? Yes, I know, insane, considering I'll also be doing Nanowrimo during November. And yes, misery does love company. :) Join me for the Seventy Days of Sweat Writing Challenge and find out for yourself!

Lets Get Stoned....

It wasn't enough that I wrote one fun but drafty 64000 word book during Nanowrimo. It seems that my Muse still isn't satisfied. So I rolled from my bed this morning and began another, tentatively titled "Stoner". Could be fun, though. I need something to keep me off the streets during the holidays. :)


STONER SYNOPSIS

Fate is so unfair.

Medusa's two Gorgon sisters got to be immortals. But not Medusa. Turned out she was quite mortal. Worse, every time she almost got lucky, the man of her desires didn't just get a hard on. He turned completely to stone. Then Medusa completely lost her head over Perseus. That little faux pas landed her in Hades for all Eternity. And as a virgin, too.

Hades cannot face the idea of spending an eternity listening to Medusa whine about her ill-conceived fate. So he makes a deal with Medusa that she can't refuse. Sure she can go back to earth and seek true love. She will get three chances to win a man's heart. If she can manage to do this without turning him to stone, she will not only get laid, she'll earn immortality. But if she fails, she'll spend her eternity as a mannequin in the Peoria Saks Fifth Avenue Factory Outlet, decked out in last season's seventy-five percent off designer seconds.

Either way, Hades wins.

Next thing Medusa knows she's standing buck naked in a dark alley where a group of down on their luck stoners make their homes. At the urging the troubled, but once infamous top-model/crack addict Athena Sebastian, Medusa finds herself spilling her troubles at a narc-anon meeting. "Hi. I'm Medusa. I'm a s-stoner. And I've hit rock bottom...."

Under the tutelage her new support group, Medusa turns her life over to a higher power and embarks full throttle on her twelve step program in hopes of curing herself of her stoner lifestyle once and for all. But Medusa's friend Athena has her own past life ax to grind, and Medusa is the ticket for revenge she's waited an eternity for.

The Pinking Down of America?

Pink, pink, everywhere. And not a blemish in sight.

There was a whole new level of elite to aspire to at Harmony High. Like the A-list, only prettier.

Trust me on this. Goth was the only place left to hide. Until we found a cure. Which was going to be hard because nobody who was "in the pink" believed they were sick.

After all, they had perfect lives, perfect boyfriends, and complexions to die for…

But at what expense? That was the question nobody dared to ask. So for now, it was just us, the Goths, against them, the Beau-toxics.

~v~

It's (so not) A Barbie World was inspired by the real life Barbie clone, Cindy Jackson. The article below tells of Cindy's obsession with making herself look as much like Barbie as humanly possible. When a friend of mine developed body dysmorphic disorder during a similar quest, I couldn't help but wonder what message this type of insatiable yearning for plastic perfection was sending to girls my daughter's age.

While I'm not necessarily anti-cosmetic surgery--I once gave in to pressure from my husband to have my navel pierced and my lips done--I am anti-doing anything to your body that you're not doing for solely to please yourself.

When I gave in to my flirtation with cosmetic surgery, I didn't do it for me. I did it because I was afraid of losing him. That freaking hurt, both mentally and physically, and I've been sorry I did it every day since. I sent my daughter a terrible message.

Months ago, I began to fantasize about what might happen to a jaded young lady who'd been burned by the A-list more than once came home to find that her uber-cool mom had experienced a bizarre accident which left her believing she was Barbie incarnate.

This book in progress is the sometimes snarkish, sometimes heartbreaking and often rollicking result of that exploration. I went into the book expecting a light and frothy beach read. But the actual writing is proving this book to be the anti-thesis of the pinking down of America. My inspiration article below:


For millions of little girls, the Barbie doll has been the pinnacle of plastic perfection for more than 40 years. “I think a lot of little 6-year-old girls or younger even now are looking at that doll and thinking, ‘I want to be her.’ And it’s something they grow out of,” says Cindy Jackson, 48, who admits that she never outgrew her obsession with becoming Barbie. “I looked at a Barbie doll when I was 6 and said, ‘This is what I want to look like.’” Cindy wasn’t born with good looks. She bought them. And along the way, she’s bought a lot of attention to her odd goal of becoming a living doll. Correspondent Richard Schlesinger reports.

“This is who I’d like to be,” says Cindy. “This is glamorous.” Cindy grew up a farm girl in Fremont, Ohio. “I wasn’t that good looking. And my sister was really, really a pretty girl,” recalls Cindy. “She was breathtaking. And everyone used to talk to her more and smile at her more and notice her first.” But Cindy says she had a lot going for her, even with her old looks: “I was recognized as being highly intelligent when I was a child. I was never shy. I was never lazy. And I was never lacking in ambition.” At 21, Cindy packed up her things and moved to London, where she went through a lot of changes – including a short career as a punk rocker. Finally, at 33, she began the grand transformation. “I just wanted to look better,” says Cindy. “Barbie was the blank canvas I filled in all those years ago. It was still my role model.”

Cindy didn’t have any of Barbie’s looks, but she did have some money, which she inherited. It was enough to begin the surgeries that made her as plastic as her role model. “I had laser surgery on my forehead,” says Cindy. “I’ve had upper eyes done, lower eyes done twice. Cheek implants, nose job – two nose jobs.” She also had four facelifts, a chin reduction, several chemical peels, and more. “My upper lift has been cut and rolled upwards to shorten the gap between my nose and mouth,” adds Cindy. “My eyebrows, eyeliner and lip liner and the full lipstick is tattooed on.” It took 31 operations and 14 years, but Cindy’s strange passion for plastic surgery got her a new look -- and a spot in the Guinness Book of World Records. How much did all that surgery cost? “About $100,000,” says Cindy. “But I did get quality discounts.” And that doesn’t include maintenance. For instance, her lips will not permanently stay pouty. They’ll have to be re-inflated every few months. “How much of the problem with your old looks do you think was a perception problem in yourself,” Schlesinger asks Cindy. “Absolutely zero,” says Cindy. “It’s not that deep. It’s not that psychological.”

Since Cindy re-invented herself, she has made some snapshot friendships with Ivana Trump, Michael Jackson and Sarah Ferguson. She’s also written a book, which she sells on her own Web site. She now makes a living becoming a kind of celebrity. But just like a surgeon needs a scalpel, or a tummy needs a tuck, a Barbie needs a Ken. And Cindy got hers soon enough.

Tim Whitfield Line, 36, was a web designer who lived north of London. He saw Cindy on television, and all of a sudden had a new goal in life. “I wanted to be a male version of her,” says Line. It didn’t take long. About one year and $50 thousand later, he’s now Miles Kendall -- new name, new face. “People call me shallow. But I call society shallow. Because they treat me differently now,” says Miles. “…I mean I wanted to look better anyway. I did. Who doesn’t? People like me or Cindy Jackson go a bit further. A lot.” They’re just perfect, and delighted – and just friends. But whatever went on between Barbie and Ken is not going on here.

But as Barbie and Ken, Cindy and Miles credit their new faces for their new lives. Cindy helped Miles open his new bar, and it’s a goal he says he reached with the help of plastic surgery. “The point is I’m content inside. I don’t worry about my looks anymore,” says Miles. “I want to concentrate on more important things in my life, which I’m doing now.” And Cindy, at 48, is also content to be the poster girl for plastic surgery, a plastic image she’s dreamt about becoming since she was 6 years old.

“The surgery was a means to an end. That’s all,” says Cindy. “There are so many people who are being held back by their looks, and if that can help give them a better quality of life and make them happier – what else is more important in life?” © MMIV, CBS Worldwide Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Help, Send Bifocals!

Oh sheesh.

You know, its never the known evils that bring you down. I expected word-count induced panic attacks. I anticipated carpal tunnel attackes. I planned for the inevitable 25000 word case of writer's block. I plotted. I diagrammed. I interviewed and researched--all of this before November. (I know, you're asking me how much research could possibly go into a book about a woman who thinks she's Barbie. Well let me tell you. That bitch gets around!)

So it's not the word count that's killing me. THAT I'm on schedule for in spite of the fact that I got run over by the cold from Hell on Day one of Nanowrimo. But hey, I reasoned, what better excuse for staying in bed with the old laptop than an utter inability to breathe. Turning those lemons into lemonade....oh yeah. Got out of cooking, too. That was good for an extra thousane nano-words.

But today, after four-thousand plus words have ticked by on this old screen--I am realizing that I need an arm extension. Or, according to my husband, I need bifocals. Word to the wise. Do not rob the cradle. Just as chidlren grow up too soon, those cute little embroyo boys that looked so cute and cut when we dragged them home from the bar--turn into full-grown man types. With opinions of their own.

How dare that man suggest that....old age might be creeping up on me? Pish posh. Of course not!
So, next year--Dear God, did i just say NEXT year?--I'll get the old eyes checked in October. Stock up on Visine. Do a lot of arm yoga. Or, in a real pinch, get magnifying screen aka bifocals for my monitor.

Because lets face it. Bifocals make everything look bigger.

That goes for toy boys and word counts.

Its a Bouncing Baby Nano-ite!

That's right. Nanowrimo is a family affair for us this year. My thirteen-year old daughter dared me to join with her this year. You can read about that little challenge here--you'll see that we've been planning this for a looooong time, and why I felt it so very necessary for my daughter and I to participate in this challenge together.

Gina chose to write a combination graphic novel/extra-terrestrial chick lit. So her chapters begin and end in a graphic novel format. If you think Gina's writing is beyond her years....dude, you should see her artwork! I'll scan one of those in as soon as this techno-challenged parent can figure out where the on button is. :)

Because I'm way impressed with the witty and wonderful words my little one is spinning out during her nano-challenge--I'm going to be the first to publish her. On my blog, but hey...when you're thirteen? Print is print! And I'm a great believer in the power of the publish button to inspire a reluctant muse.

Please cheer for Gina---and enjoy an excerpt from her zany WIP, (working title) Podicle 23--set on the rogue planet where the meaning of life may well come gleaned in the pursuit of good hair days and the quest to produce the ultimate spiking gel...

“Click clack, clickity clack”,went the staccato sound of Zelenka's nails as her they tapped across the keyboard. She sighed, looking over her work. Only one more page, and then she would be all done! She leaned back in her egg chair and sighed.

The report on the results for the new product formula would be ready to turn in by six. Grinning she thought, Surly all this hard work warrants a reward… Gummy time! Zelenka grabbed a bag of gummy space pirates and stuck her hand in. But what was this? Her gummies were gone!

“My gummies!” She could have sworn she had at least seven gummies left in that bag! No gummies, why… that was madness! Someone must have stolen them! She stood up in her chair and looked into one of the podicles next to her, where her friend Suzika had two windows open on her holo-screen computer, one with an unfinished document that was probably due in less than thirty minutes, and another where she was playing Space Demons 5.


“Suzi, have you seen my space pirate gummies?”


“Grrr… Huh? No, I haven’t- TAKE THAT, SPACE ZOMBIE!” she shrieked, jabbing the space bar repeatedly, after which the screen scrolled large letters reading “LEVEL 78 COMPLETED”.


“WHOO! I am Suzika, destroyer of demons!” she shrieked, jumping up in her chair and then falling face first on her computer’s keyboard, causing both of the windows to close before she could save her game or write down her high score.

Deciding not to stick around for one of Suzika’s tantrums, she decided to try the other podicle. She saw two of her male co-workers; Lucas and Uriel. They were both notorious for goofing off every single day, blackmailing others into doing their work for them, and just being big lazy (cute, claimed some of the girls in the office) jerks in general.

She wondered what they were doing; most likely doing something that involved sticking things in their nostrils or having fights with their pens.


“Whoa, dude! That was sick, Lucas. Do it again!”


“Hehe, alright!” He replied, pulling a green gummy out of a space pirate gummies bag, and then snorting it up his nasal cavity.

That bag… why, that was hers! She was the only person in the office who scrawled a smiley face in marker on their snack containers so they would recognize it should it become lost.


“M-my precious gummies!” Zelenka squealed, losing her balance and falling on top of Uriel.


“What the heck?!” he shouted, pushing the girl off him. They both stared wide-eyed at the girl sitting on the floor, until Lucas broke the silence.


“Uriel! That chick just fell from the ceiling!” he said loudly, pointing one of his fingers at her.


“Whoa, how’d she get up there?”


“Idiots…” she mumbled, standing up and dusting off her black suit. It had yellow stripes running down the sides. This was the standard uniform for the people working in the corporate section of PRIDE Hair and Cosmetics, though the colors sometimes differed depending on the employee’s tastes.


“Hey, she’s got an attitude!” Uriel chuckled, prodding the side of her shoulder playfully. This warranted a sneer from Zelenka, as she pushed him away from her.


“Don’t touch me. You,” she said, turning her head to Lucas, “Gummies. Now.” She ordered, holding out her hands expectantly. Smirking, he pushed her hands aside.


“Whoa, whoa, calm down there, little girl! I’ll give you your gummies… If you do something for me.” he said suavely, leaning against the wall of the podicle.


Oh, she could see RIGHT through this one. He stole her space pirate gummies, and now he wanted her to go on a date with him? What in the universe was his idea of the definition of the word “charming”?


“Oh yes, of course. I’d definitely go on a date with you. What else do I have better to do than waste brain cells pursuing some degenerate hooligan like you?” she said in a gruff tone. Of course, these big, long words were much too much for Lucas and Uriel to take in and understand, besides the first two sentences.


“Great, see you at eight.” He said, waggling his eyebrows. His buddy gave him a thumbs-up and they both snickered, waiting for her to leave. Zelenka’s brow furrowed, and she frowned. I should have known better...


“Since you two can’t seem to comprehend proper English, why don’t I put this in a way you two can understand?” she suggested, giving her best smile. Promptly after, she grabbed a soda that happened to be set on the messy desk area, took the lid off, and splashed the drink all over them.>


“I don’t like you.”


While they both stood with their mouths agape, she grabbed her gummies out of Lucas’ hand, and popped an orange one in her mouth...

Its Nanovember At Trashionista

Ah, Day 3 of Nanowrimo, and I'm still on schedule to make goal by Thanksgiving. But, the newness wears off, doesn't it? In spite of months of plotting, planning, developing storylines....nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to put those words to the page for me. Every word that flies off my keyboard for the next three days is going to put me that much closer to....SAGGING MIDDLE SYNDROME!

No, I'm not talking about my gut. I'm talking about that writerly affliction when the newness of the rosy beginning wears off, and we're left with the reality that we have to carry these characters and their problems all the way to the finish line. EEK! Scary....

If you're anything like me, you probably have to stop writing now and again to crack your knuckles and bolster your muse up with a word or two of inspiration. Check out Nanovember at
Trashionista

Authors who have managed to see their Nano entries published are speaking out. One of them even saw her nano-book produced into a movie by Goldie Hawn.

You'll also hear from other writers who have set sail into that vast, unknowable realm that will lead some of us to 50 K in 30 days.

Or not! But how wild the ride on this merry voyage of insanity! :)