Get Your Freak on Friday!!!

Warning...this one is probably PG-13,so if you're squeamish about...anatomically suggestive portrayals of...umm....manhood...then his little celebration of some Grade A vintage beefcake probably isn't for you. ;c)

Enjoy.:D

What? I'm a writer?

Thanks to one of my twisted lit sisters, I've been reminded that this is supposed to be a blog about Barbie bashing...and...ahem....writing. You know, that which I do to avoid dealing with the *real* world. (Yes, Virginia, there is a world outside of your computer monitor...and it wants YOU!)

So. Writing. Yeah, I do that. And sometimes I agonize over it. Take this week for example.

I'm beginning to think I have some weird writer variant of OCD. Sure, I've been writing this week....for hours,honestly, but on the same scene. It's not a problem of plot...goodness, its a rip roaring one. Instead, I'm suffering this problem with aesthetics. But since I've got the action accounted for and the scene goal set, I should move on, right?

But I can't. I have this obsessiveness about how the words sound when they are read out loud and how they look as the reader's eye travels down the page. I like a certain ration of white space, which increases proportionately to the tension level in the scene.

So I agonize. Do the words flow? Do they chop, race, amble? Are the consonants hard enough and the vowels soft enough to take my reader where I want them to go?
If words aren't agreeing with the action on the page, then I can't move on. And once the words sound right, then guess what? Now the page has to look right. It simply must have the appropriate amount of white space to either draw the scene out, or give it the visual appearance of moving faster.

I wonder if anyone else is this obsessive? Is this some sophisticated way of avoiding the magic words--"the end"? I wonder about that, but I don't see my behavior changing, either. If I'm not aesthetically pleased with my prose....then I don't want to see it in print.

Yeah, I know. Freaky.

But then when did I ever stake clame to normal? :D What about the rest of my author friends out there? Do any of you have quirky habits that slow you down, but that you aren't willing to give up, either?

What am I working on? Kiss of the Cerberus, a hot romantic urban fantasy.

What am I listening to? The sound of my cat purring.

What's my goal for today? To lay the scene from hell to rest and move on for a Feb. 7 submission date. At this rate, I'll never make it. But moving forward, nonetheless.

Come on now, you KNEW this was coming....

Eeep! It's youtube to the rescue, and JUST as I'd begun descending into the depths of Barbie Bashing Withdrawal Syndrome (not a pretty sight, trust me. I was actually eyeballing pink prom dresses yesterday.....) Fortunately, my DD surfed me over to The Gothic Charm School with an eye toward correcting my blasphemous moment of pink perversion. :D

Enjoy. :D

Get your Freak on Friday....

Nothing like a man in uniform shaking his groove thang. :)

Don't Go to a Convention Without These!

My. Feet. Are. Killing. Me.

I can't count the number of times I said that at last years Romantic Times Booklover's Convention. Let's face it. Girlie shoes are not comfie. But somehow, an evening ensemble accessorized with sneakers just doesn't do it for me.

Now, we can have our heels...and our flats, too...all in the same pair of shoes!

Do you believe in Miracles?

I do. I do. I do believe in miracles. And this year, I got one for Christmas at a time when our family needed it most.

Last week, my son painted the picture you see posted above. As far as I know, he had never picked up a paintbrush before, much less exercised such skill with paints.

For any child, I'd find the painting remarkable, but this child, this budding artist too soon to become a young man, also happens to have autism. Until recently, his education has been erected on a long line of "can't" and "will never." That's the way it is in Florida--which is why we're dropping everything and leaving,even if that move breaks us financially.

If you're a doctor, teacher, therapist, or any other person interacting with persons with autism, and you believe that those on the spectrum--even the severely affected--are without hope, value, and depth of emotion, then I beg you to think again. As you approach these amazing human beings in your work, please strive to keep your "cants" and "will nevers" to yourself. Dare to presume intelligence, even in the apparent absence of it.

I have two sons with autism, and a daughter teetering on the edge. Because of them, I believe in miracles. I want you to know that my children aren't a curse. Their autism is not a scourge to be erased from the face of the planet. They aren't a hardship, although some days I moan and whine because their struggles overwhelm me, and I am terrified what will become of their lives when I am gone.

Those daily struggles are seldom about them as human beings, or their autism. They are instead centered on the battles involved in jousting with....well, educators, politicians, and health care professionals who just can't...or perhaps won't...see beyond the DSM lV to discover the capabilities of the person behind the label.

As the years have ticked by, I have come to see that these children, as strange, complex and maddening as they are, are perfect just as they came to me. They have filled my life, my heart and my dreams for the future in ways I never dreamed possible. Because of them, this world is a better place.

If you have looked at the picture my son painted, and you still don't understand why we must presume intelligence, even in the apparent absence of it, and you still can't see how important it is to leave a space open for miracles in approaching this population, then I beg you to consider another career.

This Christmas I am taking time to thank God for my children, and the little chain of miracles that brought them into my life. I hope you will join me.

May miracles breath life into your Christmas season as they have mine. May you also come to believe in miracles. Because, you see, miracles don't discriminate. They believe in all of God's children. Even the ones with autism.

Merry Christmas.

Give Barbie a Burger. Fast.

You know it had to happen eventually. When it comes to Barbie, nothing is sacred on this blog. :) But let me warn you. This picture is truly cringe worthy and certaily justifies a truck load of super sized extra value meals. :D