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Monday, August 31, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Darling Dorothy
"I don't know much about being a milllionaire, but I'll bet I'd be darling at it."
-- Dorothy Parker
"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don't believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want and, if they can't find them, make them."
-- George Bernard Shaw 1893
This quote from 1893 is as appropriate today as it was then. People are the same now as they were a hundred plus years ago--only sociey and technology have changed. In Proverbs Solomon said, There's nothing new under the sun," and isn't that the truth?
-- George Bernard Shaw 1893
This quote from 1893 is as appropriate today as it was then. People are the same now as they were a hundred plus years ago--only sociey and technology have changed. In Proverbs Solomon said, There's nothing new under the sun," and isn't that the truth?
Monday, August 24, 2009
The Magnificent Seven
The Magnificent Seven
Silhouette Special Releases
Sep 2009
Miniseries: Montana Mavericks
ISBN:9780373310524 (#30)
Heather Johnson had never intended to return to Whitehorn, Montana. But restoring an inherited ranch seemed the perfect way to pass the summer with her three kids. The moment she hired carpenter Mitch Fielding, though, his motherless twin daughters in tow, those short-term plans suddenly went awry. Mitch was the first man in her life who truly seemed to notice her. And as his skillful hands restored the ranch and ignited a passion she'd never known, her fragile heart began to heal, as well. For once in Heather's life everything seemed magnificent. And that scared her. Because the future she wanted—and the past she'd run from—were forever in Whitehorn….
The Magnificent Seven
READ AN EXCERPT
Chapter One
Mitch led his twin six-year-olds, Taylor and Ashley, through the lunch crowd at the Hip Hop Café as though he were guiding them through a minefield. Taylor narrowly missed knocking over a gray-haired gent's cane that was leaning against a table edge, and Mitch clamped his hand firmly over Ashley's mouth as soon as he noticed an overweight woman shoveling chocolate-cream pie between her lips.
He got them settled into a booth and released his breath. "There." He picked up the plastic-coated menu and scanned for something nourishing the twins would eat without pitching a fit. "They have hamburgers and chicken fingers."
"Yuck. I want a chocolate malt and a pickle," Ashley pronounced.
"I want skettios," Taylor said.
"They don't have skettios," he replied to one daughter, then turned to the other. "And you can have a chocolate malt if you eat a hamburger."
"Gross. I don't want a hamburger." She folded her arms over the front of her Teletubbie T-shirt. "I want a pickle."
"You can have a pickle with your hamburger. Taylor, they have spaghetti."
"Don't like spaghetti."
"Of course you do. It's the same stuff that comes out of the cans, only real."
"Uh-uh-uh," she said in a singsongy voice with a shake of her head. "It doesn't taste the same."
He resisted the urge to argue or bargain in public, which always made him feel as if his daughters were getting the upper hand anyway. How long could a child survive on pickles, malts and canned spaghetti? It was his job as a parent to see that they were well nourished, but how did he go about it? Some nights he dropped into bed mentally exhausted, feeling lucky to have gotten several bites of anything into them.
A waitress appeared at his elbow, and Mitch glanced up to see the slim blonde in a blue T-shirt proclaiming Breakfast Served All Day give him a curious once-over. Everyone in Whitehorn, Montana, seemed to know each other, and he obviously stuck out as a newcomer. A quick scan confirmed that a dozen eyes had zeroed in on him and his daughters.
"Afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I'm Janie Austin. Which one of Garrett Kincaid's grandsons are you?"
"Mitch Fielding," he replied self-consciously. "How did you know?"
She cast him a friendly smile. "In Whitehorn everybody knows everybody else's business. Anticipating each grandson's arrival has been the hot topic for quite a while."
He didn't know how well he liked being the subject of gossip, but this young woman seemed friendly and accepting enough. Apparently everyone already knew he was one of six illegitimate grandsons the old man had summoned to his ranch. Garrett was still searching for a seventh.
She touched his shoulder in a brief gesture of greeting that put him at ease. "Nice to meet you, Mitch."
He returned her neighborly smile. "These are my daughters, Taylor and Ashley."
"Look at that pretty blond hair. What'll you have, girls?"
He gave her their orders, amid objections from his daughters. Taylor waved her arm to get his attention and knocked the ketchup bottle into the salt and pepper shakers. Pepper spilled on the laminate tabletop, and she promptly blew it into her sister's face.
Ashley sneezed and her eyes watered. She grabbed for the rolled paper napkin that held her silverware and sent the metal utensils flying across the table and onto the floor.
Mitch picked up the utensils, handed them to the astonished waitress and admonished the girls to sit on their behinds.
By the time their food arrived, everyone in the room knew Taylor had to go to the bathroom. He took them to the women's room, standing outside until their food was cold. Finally he rapped on the door.
Thank God it was a one-seater, because he had to go in to dry their hands and pull them out. So that the next person wouldn't slip and break her neck, he mentioned to the waitress that the rest room floor was flooded.
"My spaghetti's cold," Taylor complained loudly.
"So's everything else." With a sigh, Mitch picked up his cold burger and took a bite, just as Ashley knocked over her malt.
Twenty minutes later he released their hands to get his wallet and pay the cashier. He ran back to leave a generous tip at the table for the patient waitress.
A bulletin board on the wall by the cash register caught his attention and, ignoring the yanks on his hands, he scanned the notices of cars and household items for sale. He was particularly looking for someone to watch the girls for him so he could line up a few jobs. Most of the Want Ads had been placed by junior and high school students; the twins needed someone more experienced. Much more experienced. A warden, perhaps.
One notice caught his eye. Handyman Wanted. He released a small hand to tap the card with his forefinger.
"Know anything about this one?" He directed his question to the gray-haired waitress in orthopedic shoes standing near the cash register.
"That's Pete Bolton's ranch," she replied. "His daughter was in here a couple of weeks ago, looking for someone to help her fix up the place to sell."
That sounded like just the job for him. A couple of months back he'd had to sell all of his contracts, to take care of the girls. His mother had been caring for them, but one calamity after another had pulled him from work sites, until it wasn't fair to his customers or his subcontractors for him to continue. While trying to figure out what to do, he'd decided that Garrett Kincaid's invitation was just the solution.
This had been the perfect time to do some traveling, and he'd been eager to spend more time with, and get to know, this grandfather he'd never known existed until last May.
"Do you have some paper I can write the number on?" he asked.
"Sure, sugar." She fished in her pocket, came out with her order tablet and a pen, and scribbled the phone number, tearing off the sheet and handing it to him.
The bell over the door clanged and he turned to see one of his daughters dash outside.
"Thanks." He stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket and pulled the other child out the door behind him.
Lily Mae Wheeler got up out of her permanent seat in the first booth and walked over to Charlene, her gaudy jewelry clanking at her wrists and weighing down her bony chest.
"Heard he was at Garrett's ranch," she said to let Charlene know she'd been the first to hear. "Nobody knows much about him yet, 'cept his wife died when those two were just babies. Those children are holy terrors, have you ever seen the likes?"
"Must be difficult for a young father to raise two girls alone," Janie said sympathetically, coming up beside them.
"They need a good paddling, if you ask me," Lily Mae scoffed.
"Be interesting to see what happens at the Bolton ranch this afternoon, wouldn't it?" Charlene said with a devilish smile.
The three exchanged amused glances.
Engaging her ten-year-old daughter's help, Heather Johnson tackled the stack of dishes from lunch and breakfast.
"We need a dishwasher, Mom." Jessica dried a chipped plate and stood on tiptoe to place it in the cupboard.
"I didn't think we were going to be here long enough to need one," Heather replied with a regretful sigh. She turned and glanced at her sons who sat on the worn linoleum floor with coloring books. With his tongue angled out the side of his mouth, five-year-old Patrick studiously labored to keep the purple crayon inside the lines on the page. Two-year-old Andrew spent more time chasing the crayons under the table and tasting them than he did coloring, but at least her boys were temporarily occupied.
When she'd brought her children to the ranch after her father's death, she'd planned to take a two-week vacation, go through her father's personal belongings, and sell the property. A neat-and-tidy plan, something that should have gone smoothly.
Now, two and a half weeks later, she still hadn't been able to make any progress on selling. She hadn't planned on all the repairs that the real estate lady had suggested be made to get a decent price. Heather hadn't been back to Whitehorn in years, and the property had deteriorated more than she'd imagined. Her father obviously hadn't paid any more attention to the house than he ever had to her.
She shrugged off the depressing thought and gave Jessica a smile. "Thank you, angel. You are a big help to me, you know that?"
Wiping another plate, her daughter nodded in a grown-up manner. "Can we do something fun after this, Mom?"
A little pang of regret snagged Heather. She knew it hadn't been much fun for Jess to help with the boys all morning while Heather went through boxes and trunks and years' worth of accumulated junk. "What would you like to do?"
"Catch turtles in the pond?"
Heather wrinkled her nose. "Who's going to wade out there with the net?"
"You'll help, won't you?"
Heather had to admit she'd been appreciating this much-needed time with her kids. She loved her public relations job in San Francisco, and the sense of self-worth it had always brought, but she often felt guilty about the time she missed with her children. This time with them had been enjoyable, even though it had to be spent here—the last place on earth she'd choose to vacation.
She tapped Jessica on the nose with a sudsy finger. "Okay, I'll help you catch a turtle."
Jessica grinned that knockout smile, revealing dimples that would one day drive young men crazy. Heather's heart gave a sad twinge at the thought. She wasn't too concerned about her daughter's future.
She'd tried her best to ensure Jessica wouldn't make the same mistakes Heather had made.
Patrick jumped up and ran to the screen door that overlooked the long gravel drive. "Somebody's coming! It's a way cool truck!"
Andrew got up, crunching crayons beneath his red-and-blue tennis shoes in the process, and followed his brother. "Thumbody coming!" he mimicked.
Heather dried her hands and moved to the door. She'd been expecting the man who had called earlier about interviewing for the handyman job. The blue-and-silver duel cab Silverado pickup leaving a dust trail must belong to him.
"This is the appointment I was expecting." She hung up the towel. "We'll be discussing business in the other room. I want all of you to play quietly in here until we're finished."
She waited for the children's nods of understanding, then stepped back to the door.
The driver parked in the gravel area behind the house, but instead of getting out right away he turned toward the back seat. Heather noticed a couple of heads she hadn't seen at first. He'd brought children to a job interview? One big strike against him.
She stepped out onto the back porch, the age-splintered boards creaking precariously beneath her feet.
He exited the truck at last, closing the door and glancing over his shoulder.
He was tall, she noticed right away. Maybe thirty, with sandy-brown hair and a golden tan attesting to hours working in the sun.
The jeans he wore encased long legs and slim hips. A navy-blue, button-down knit shirt, work boots, and a slim black folder with a clipboard completed the classically sexy look of a handyman. Heather could picture him with a tool belt around his hips and smiled to herself. Certainly nothing wrong with his appearance.
He neared the porch. "Mrs. Johnson?"
She composed her face and nodded.
"Mitch Fielding."
She reached to shake his hand. He had calluses on his palms. Hardworking. Steadfast. Where had that come from? It had been a long time since she'd noticed a man the way she noticed this one. Perturbed, she released his hand. "We can talk inside."
He glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder.
"Your children?" she asked.
He nodded. "They're supposed to sit there until I get back."
She wondered again why he'd brought them along. It was completely unprofessional. "Would you like to let them come in and color at the kitchen table?"
"No," he said immediately with a shake of his head. "I don't think so."
He got them settled into a booth and released his breath. "There." He picked up the plastic-coated menu and scanned for something nourishing the twins would eat without pitching a fit. "They have hamburgers and chicken fingers."
"Yuck. I want a chocolate malt and a pickle," Ashley pronounced.
"I want skettios," Taylor said.
"They don't have skettios," he replied to one daughter, then turned to the other. "And you can have a chocolate malt if you eat a hamburger."
"Gross. I don't want a hamburger." She folded her arms over the front of her Teletubbie T-shirt. "I want a pickle."
"You can have a pickle with your hamburger. Taylor, they have spaghetti."
"Don't like spaghetti."
"Of course you do. It's the same stuff that comes out of the cans, only real."
"Uh-uh-uh," she said in a singsongy voice with a shake of her head. "It doesn't taste the same."
He resisted the urge to argue or bargain in public, which always made him feel as if his daughters were getting the upper hand anyway. How long could a child survive on pickles, malts and canned spaghetti? It was his job as a parent to see that they were well nourished, but how did he go about it? Some nights he dropped into bed mentally exhausted, feeling lucky to have gotten several bites of anything into them.
A waitress appeared at his elbow, and Mitch glanced up to see the slim blonde in a blue T-shirt proclaiming Breakfast Served All Day give him a curious once-over. Everyone in Whitehorn, Montana, seemed to know each other, and he obviously stuck out as a newcomer. A quick scan confirmed that a dozen eyes had zeroed in on him and his daughters.
"Afternoon," she said pleasantly. "I'm Janie Austin. Which one of Garrett Kincaid's grandsons are you?"
"Mitch Fielding," he replied self-consciously. "How did you know?"
She cast him a friendly smile. "In Whitehorn everybody knows everybody else's business. Anticipating each grandson's arrival has been the hot topic for quite a while."
He didn't know how well he liked being the subject of gossip, but this young woman seemed friendly and accepting enough. Apparently everyone already knew he was one of six illegitimate grandsons the old man had summoned to his ranch. Garrett was still searching for a seventh.
She touched his shoulder in a brief gesture of greeting that put him at ease. "Nice to meet you, Mitch."
He returned her neighborly smile. "These are my daughters, Taylor and Ashley."
"Look at that pretty blond hair. What'll you have, girls?"
He gave her their orders, amid objections from his daughters. Taylor waved her arm to get his attention and knocked the ketchup bottle into the salt and pepper shakers. Pepper spilled on the laminate tabletop, and she promptly blew it into her sister's face.
Ashley sneezed and her eyes watered. She grabbed for the rolled paper napkin that held her silverware and sent the metal utensils flying across the table and onto the floor.
Mitch picked up the utensils, handed them to the astonished waitress and admonished the girls to sit on their behinds.
By the time their food arrived, everyone in the room knew Taylor had to go to the bathroom. He took them to the women's room, standing outside until their food was cold. Finally he rapped on the door.
Thank God it was a one-seater, because he had to go in to dry their hands and pull them out. So that the next person wouldn't slip and break her neck, he mentioned to the waitress that the rest room floor was flooded.
"My spaghetti's cold," Taylor complained loudly.
"So's everything else." With a sigh, Mitch picked up his cold burger and took a bite, just as Ashley knocked over her malt.
Twenty minutes later he released their hands to get his wallet and pay the cashier. He ran back to leave a generous tip at the table for the patient waitress.
A bulletin board on the wall by the cash register caught his attention and, ignoring the yanks on his hands, he scanned the notices of cars and household items for sale. He was particularly looking for someone to watch the girls for him so he could line up a few jobs. Most of the Want Ads had been placed by junior and high school students; the twins needed someone more experienced. Much more experienced. A warden, perhaps.
One notice caught his eye. Handyman Wanted. He released a small hand to tap the card with his forefinger.
"Know anything about this one?" He directed his question to the gray-haired waitress in orthopedic shoes standing near the cash register.
"That's Pete Bolton's ranch," she replied. "His daughter was in here a couple of weeks ago, looking for someone to help her fix up the place to sell."
That sounded like just the job for him. A couple of months back he'd had to sell all of his contracts, to take care of the girls. His mother had been caring for them, but one calamity after another had pulled him from work sites, until it wasn't fair to his customers or his subcontractors for him to continue. While trying to figure out what to do, he'd decided that Garrett Kincaid's invitation was just the solution.
This had been the perfect time to do some traveling, and he'd been eager to spend more time with, and get to know, this grandfather he'd never known existed until last May.
"Do you have some paper I can write the number on?" he asked.
"Sure, sugar." She fished in her pocket, came out with her order tablet and a pen, and scribbled the phone number, tearing off the sheet and handing it to him.
The bell over the door clanged and he turned to see one of his daughters dash outside.
"Thanks." He stuffed the paper into his shirt pocket and pulled the other child out the door behind him.
Lily Mae Wheeler got up out of her permanent seat in the first booth and walked over to Charlene, her gaudy jewelry clanking at her wrists and weighing down her bony chest.
"Heard he was at Garrett's ranch," she said to let Charlene know she'd been the first to hear. "Nobody knows much about him yet, 'cept his wife died when those two were just babies. Those children are holy terrors, have you ever seen the likes?"
"Must be difficult for a young father to raise two girls alone," Janie said sympathetically, coming up beside them.
"They need a good paddling, if you ask me," Lily Mae scoffed.
"Be interesting to see what happens at the Bolton ranch this afternoon, wouldn't it?" Charlene said with a devilish smile.
The three exchanged amused glances.
Engaging her ten-year-old daughter's help, Heather Johnson tackled the stack of dishes from lunch and breakfast.
"We need a dishwasher, Mom." Jessica dried a chipped plate and stood on tiptoe to place it in the cupboard.
"I didn't think we were going to be here long enough to need one," Heather replied with a regretful sigh. She turned and glanced at her sons who sat on the worn linoleum floor with coloring books. With his tongue angled out the side of his mouth, five-year-old Patrick studiously labored to keep the purple crayon inside the lines on the page. Two-year-old Andrew spent more time chasing the crayons under the table and tasting them than he did coloring, but at least her boys were temporarily occupied.
When she'd brought her children to the ranch after her father's death, she'd planned to take a two-week vacation, go through her father's personal belongings, and sell the property. A neat-and-tidy plan, something that should have gone smoothly.
Now, two and a half weeks later, she still hadn't been able to make any progress on selling. She hadn't planned on all the repairs that the real estate lady had suggested be made to get a decent price. Heather hadn't been back to Whitehorn in years, and the property had deteriorated more than she'd imagined. Her father obviously hadn't paid any more attention to the house than he ever had to her.
She shrugged off the depressing thought and gave Jessica a smile. "Thank you, angel. You are a big help to me, you know that?"
Wiping another plate, her daughter nodded in a grown-up manner. "Can we do something fun after this, Mom?"
A little pang of regret snagged Heather. She knew it hadn't been much fun for Jess to help with the boys all morning while Heather went through boxes and trunks and years' worth of accumulated junk. "What would you like to do?"
"Catch turtles in the pond?"
Heather wrinkled her nose. "Who's going to wade out there with the net?"
"You'll help, won't you?"
Heather had to admit she'd been appreciating this much-needed time with her kids. She loved her public relations job in San Francisco, and the sense of self-worth it had always brought, but she often felt guilty about the time she missed with her children. This time with them had been enjoyable, even though it had to be spent here—the last place on earth she'd choose to vacation.
She tapped Jessica on the nose with a sudsy finger. "Okay, I'll help you catch a turtle."
Jessica grinned that knockout smile, revealing dimples that would one day drive young men crazy. Heather's heart gave a sad twinge at the thought. She wasn't too concerned about her daughter's future.
She'd tried her best to ensure Jessica wouldn't make the same mistakes Heather had made.
Patrick jumped up and ran to the screen door that overlooked the long gravel drive. "Somebody's coming! It's a way cool truck!"
Andrew got up, crunching crayons beneath his red-and-blue tennis shoes in the process, and followed his brother. "Thumbody coming!" he mimicked.
Heather dried her hands and moved to the door. She'd been expecting the man who had called earlier about interviewing for the handyman job. The blue-and-silver duel cab Silverado pickup leaving a dust trail must belong to him.
"This is the appointment I was expecting." She hung up the towel. "We'll be discussing business in the other room. I want all of you to play quietly in here until we're finished."
She waited for the children's nods of understanding, then stepped back to the door.
The driver parked in the gravel area behind the house, but instead of getting out right away he turned toward the back seat. Heather noticed a couple of heads she hadn't seen at first. He'd brought children to a job interview? One big strike against him.
She stepped out onto the back porch, the age-splintered boards creaking precariously beneath her feet.
He exited the truck at last, closing the door and glancing over his shoulder.
He was tall, she noticed right away. Maybe thirty, with sandy-brown hair and a golden tan attesting to hours working in the sun.
The jeans he wore encased long legs and slim hips. A navy-blue, button-down knit shirt, work boots, and a slim black folder with a clipboard completed the classically sexy look of a handyman. Heather could picture him with a tool belt around his hips and smiled to herself. Certainly nothing wrong with his appearance.
He neared the porch. "Mrs. Johnson?"
She composed her face and nodded.
"Mitch Fielding."
She reached to shake his hand. He had calluses on his palms. Hardworking. Steadfast. Where had that come from? It had been a long time since she'd noticed a man the way she noticed this one. Perturbed, she released his hand. "We can talk inside."
He glanced uncomfortably over his shoulder.
"Your children?" she asked.
He nodded. "They're supposed to sit there until I get back."
She wondered again why he'd brought them along. It was completely unprofessional. "Would you like to let them come in and color at the kitchen table?"
"No," he said immediately with a shake of his head. "I don't think so."
ORDER AT eHarlequin
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Drop Dead Diva
Lifetime's comedic drama Drop Dead Diva has been renewed for a second season.
The network has ordered 13 new episodes of the freshman series, from Sony TV, creator Josh Berman and exec producers Craig Zadan and Neil Meron, to air in 2010.
Diva, which premiered in July as Lifetime's best original drama series debut since the 2007 launch of "Army Wives," has become the first scripted series since "Wives" to earn a second-season pickup. It has averaged 2.6 million viewers, hitting series highs in the women demos last Sunday when the series, about a dead shallow model reincarnated in the body of a brilliant plus-size attorney (Brooke Elliott), drew more than 3 million total viewers.
"Drop Dead Diva is one of those rare gems that has charmed both viewers and critics," Lifetime's exec vp entertainment JoAnn Alfano said of the show co-starring Margaret Cho.
I've watched most of the episodes. You can catch them later in the week if you miss one. Sunday night doesn't have much else on, so I gave it a go, and it's pretty funny. It reminds me of Pushing Daisies when it firest came out, but I quickly tired of that.
I love her assistant.
The network has ordered 13 new episodes of the freshman series, from Sony TV, creator Josh Berman and exec producers Craig Zadan and Neil Meron, to air in 2010.
Diva, which premiered in July as Lifetime's best original drama series debut since the 2007 launch of "Army Wives," has become the first scripted series since "Wives" to earn a second-season pickup. It has averaged 2.6 million viewers, hitting series highs in the women demos last Sunday when the series, about a dead shallow model reincarnated in the body of a brilliant plus-size attorney (Brooke Elliott), drew more than 3 million total viewers.
"Drop Dead Diva is one of those rare gems that has charmed both viewers and critics," Lifetime's exec vp entertainment JoAnn Alfano said of the show co-starring Margaret Cho.
I've watched most of the episodes. You can catch them later in the week if you miss one. Sunday night doesn't have much else on, so I gave it a go, and it's pretty funny. It reminds me of Pushing Daisies when it firest came out, but I quickly tired of that.
I love her assistant.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
*lizzie starr: Confessions of a Back to School Junkie
Or:
Do I Really Need Another Journal?
Back to school…sales of pens, notebooks, all kinds of supplies. It fair makes me salivate. Have I mentioned that I love paper. Fresh clean sheets. Colors of the rainbow. Spiraled into notebooks or pressed into folders displaying a favorite character. Even sheets gently used on one side that one day will hold the draft of my best-selling novel. The smooth feel of a thick ream, or the rougher texture of handmade. I love paper.
Okay, I’ll admit it—it’s more than just love. It’s an obsession. These back to school displays are heaven come to earth. But as I was lovingly placing a small journal festooned with Cap’n Jack Sparrow into my cart, I wondered what to do with yet another journal.
Of course there are many excellent personal reasons for a journal and no doubt most of you have tried them out one time or another. But, what uses can a writer find for that stack of beautiful, funny, inspirational, ‘I just couldn’t resist’ journals?
Story work. This is pretty obvious. Plotting, character planning, jotting bits of dialog, setting, the odd scene. A journal can be a great carry along item, fitting into a bag. The hard cover makes it easy to write in any location. Want a little more organization? Use those nifty stick-on divider tabs. When you’re struck with sudden inspiration, this story journal will be your best friend.
Lots of ideas for new plots? Characters? Titles? All crowding your mind? Create an idea journal. There doesn’t need to be any organization here—just fill the pages as the ideas flow. When you get stuck, this gem could be a personal brainstorming tool.
A fan of The Artist’s Way? Use a journal for your morning pages.
Going to a conference or workshop? Keep a journal specifically for lectures and participation notes. The small size can be easier to handle when writing on your lap and once again that hard cover works great. Using a journal that’s spiral bound makes note taking even easier.
If you love inspirational quotes, you probably have a multitude of scraps of paper, cards, sticky notes, even fortune cookie slips lying around. Compile your favorites, one to a page in a journal and you’ll always be able to find inspiration.
Do you read a lot? Have shelves of books? (Is this a silly question?) Use a journal to record the books you’ve read and your opinion and comments. You can also keep track of where you’ve given reviews. When you read ‘how to’ books, use a journal for your notes and practice exercises. These will then become your own Cliff’s Notes for Swain or Maass.
Multi-published? Writing a series? Tell me true, can you remember all the little details about each character? To keep all your people straight and avoid re-using characters or names, keep ‘em all in a journal.
Have a nice selection of smaller journals that don’t seem quite enough for larger purposes? Use one for keeping track of writing expenses. Use another to record that long list of computer passwords we seem to end up with.
That’s a few ideas of how to use those journals you’ve just had to buy. I’m sure you can think of more. Hey, how about a journal just for the HWG writing exercises?
So, did I really need that Cap’n Jack journal? You tell me.
Order The Prince of Dark Ness: www.wingsepress.com
Torn between duty and love, Morghan stands alone to protect two worlds from an ancient Fire Elemental. He’s loved Coralie for long upon long, yet never admitted his desire.
Until now.
If he chooses Coralie over battle, will his worlds be lost? Or will his choices doom them all?
Author and lunch lady--what a combination! Although *lizzie starr is physically in Nebraska, her mind is usually elsewhere, discovering tales of the fantastic and the romantic. Find out more about *lizzie at www.lizziestarr.com and http://starrwords.blogspot.com
Do I Really Need Another Journal?
Back to school…sales of pens, notebooks, all kinds of supplies. It fair makes me salivate. Have I mentioned that I love paper. Fresh clean sheets. Colors of the rainbow. Spiraled into notebooks or pressed into folders displaying a favorite character. Even sheets gently used on one side that one day will hold the draft of my best-selling novel. The smooth feel of a thick ream, or the rougher texture of handmade. I love paper. Okay, I’ll admit it—it’s more than just love. It’s an obsession. These back to school displays are heaven come to earth. But as I was lovingly placing a small journal festooned with Cap’n Jack Sparrow into my cart, I wondered what to do with yet another journal.
Of course there are many excellent personal reasons for a journal and no doubt most of you have tried them out one time or another. But, what uses can a writer find for that stack of beautiful, funny, inspirational, ‘I just couldn’t resist’ journals?
Story work. This is pretty obvious. Plotting, character planning, jotting bits of dialog, setting, the odd scene. A journal can be a great carry along item, fitting into a bag. The hard cover makes it easy to write in any location. Want a little more organization? Use those nifty stick-on divider tabs. When you’re struck with sudden inspiration, this story journal will be your best friend.Lots of ideas for new plots? Characters? Titles? All crowding your mind? Create an idea journal. There doesn’t need to be any organization here—just fill the pages as the ideas flow. When you get stuck, this gem could be a personal brainstorming tool.
A fan of The Artist’s Way? Use a journal for your morning pages.
Going to a conference or workshop? Keep a journal specifically for lectures and participation notes. The small size can be easier to handle when writing on your lap and once again that hard cover works great. Using a journal that’s spiral bound makes note taking even easier.
If you love inspirational quotes, you probably have a multitude of scraps of paper, cards, sticky notes, even fortune cookie slips lying around. Compile your favorites, one to a page in a journal and you’ll always be able to find inspiration.
Do you read a lot? Have shelves of books? (Is this a silly question?) Use a journal to record the books you’ve read and your opinion and comments. You can also keep track of where you’ve given reviews. When you read ‘how to’ books, use a journal for your notes and practice exercises. These will then become your own Cliff’s Notes for Swain or Maass.
Multi-published? Writing a series? Tell me true, can you remember all the little details about each character? To keep all your people straight and avoid re-using characters or names, keep ‘em all in a journal.
Have a nice selection of smaller journals that don’t seem quite enough for larger purposes? Use one for keeping track of writing expenses. Use another to record that long list of computer passwords we seem to end up with.That’s a few ideas of how to use those journals you’ve just had to buy. I’m sure you can think of more. Hey, how about a journal just for the HWG writing exercises?
So, did I really need that Cap’n Jack journal? You tell me.
Order The Prince of Dark Ness: www.wingsepress.com
Torn between duty and love, Morghan stands alone to protect two worlds from an ancient Fire Elemental. He’s loved Coralie for long upon long, yet never admitted his desire.
Until now.
If he chooses Coralie over battle, will his worlds be lost? Or will his choices doom them all?
Author and lunch lady--what a combination! Although *lizzie starr is physically in Nebraska, her mind is usually elsewhere, discovering tales of the fantastic and the romantic. Find out more about *lizzie at www.lizziestarr.com and http://starrwords.blogspot.com
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Dancing With the Stars Cast Announced - WHO??
Aaron Carter -- Younger brother of Backstreet Boy Nick Carter. His family was the focus of the E! realist series "House of Carters."
Natalie Coughlin -- first American female athlete to win six medals at a single Olympiad in 2008.
Mark Dacascos -- a couple movies and The Chairman on Iron Chef.
Tom Delay -- The Hammer? a politian with indictment charges
Macy Gray -- five Grammy nominations and a couple movies
Ashley Hamilton -- actor, songwriter and comedian and George Hamilton's son.
Melissa Joan Hart -- Sabrina the Teenage as well as Lifetime and ABC Family movies. The name is familiar. I'll recognize her when I see her
Kathy Ireland -- former supermodel - I've heard of her and will recongize her
Michael Irvin -- NFL legendary Dallas Cowboy wide receivers and a couple TV spots
Joanna Krupa -- model and actress
Chuck Liddell -- light-heavyweight champ, The Iceman
Debi Mazar -- plays publicist Shauna on the Entourage
Mya -- Grammy winner and Chicago co-star\
Kelly Osbourne -- daughter of Sharon and Ozzy and star of "The Osbourne, released several albums - Okay, her I have heard of
Donny Osmond - currently performing at the Flamingo in Las Vegas with Marie - TV, Broadway, movies Finally! Someonw who is actually a star!
Louie Vito - professional snowboarder favored to make the 2010 Olympic team.
Well, there go my dreams for David Boreanaz. Could they let me do the casting next time? *lizzie, will you help me? Of course you will. And we would come up with stars we'd actually like to see dance!
Natalie Coughlin -- first American female athlete to win six medals at a single Olympiad in 2008.
Mark Dacascos -- a couple movies and The Chairman on Iron Chef.
Tom Delay -- The Hammer? a politian with indictment charges
Macy Gray -- five Grammy nominations and a couple movies
Ashley Hamilton -- actor, songwriter and comedian and George Hamilton's son.
Melissa Joan Hart -- Sabrina the Teenage as well as Lifetime and ABC Family movies. The name is familiar. I'll recognize her when I see her
Kathy Ireland -- former supermodel - I've heard of her and will recongize her
Michael Irvin -- NFL legendary Dallas Cowboy wide receivers and a couple TV spots
Joanna Krupa -- model and actress
Chuck Liddell -- light-heavyweight champ, The Iceman
Debi Mazar -- plays publicist Shauna on the Entourage
Mya -- Grammy winner and Chicago co-star\
Kelly Osbourne -- daughter of Sharon and Ozzy and star of "The Osbourne, released several albums - Okay, her I have heard of
Donny Osmond - currently performing at the Flamingo in Las Vegas with Marie - TV, Broadway, movies Finally! Someonw who is actually a star!
Louie Vito - professional snowboarder favored to make the 2010 Olympic team.
Well, there go my dreams for David Boreanaz. Could they let me do the casting next time? *lizzie, will you help me? Of course you will. And we would come up with stars we'd actually like to see dance!
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Another Yearbook Photo
Yes, here I am in 1984. Who knew, huh? I gave Cyndy Lauper a real run for her money.
Friday, August 14, 2009
My Yearbook Photos
I laughed so hard doing this, I thought I'd wet my pants.
I have more, which I will save for another day--and they get BETTER!
I have more, which I will save for another day--and they get BETTER!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
You know how I love babies--watch this one grow
A Year of Lex is the brainchild of Zachery Bir and Amber Smirnow of Richmond, VA. The couple, both 35, started photographing their son, Alexander, the day he was born, taking one photo each day for an entire year.
"Some friends of ours have a nicely framed set of monthly pictures of their daughter, showing her growth through her first year," Bir told ParentDish via email. "I thought that would be a great project, and I wanted to try my hand at a year's worth of daily shots. We also took weekly shots (every Wednesday) and monthly shots (on the 30th of each month and the 28th of February)."
Bir and Smirnow did minimal staging for the photos; they just let Lex do his infant thing, which included laughing and crying and messing with the props they provided, while the parents focused on the overall quality of the photos.
Here's their blog: http://blog.princesscrankypants.com/
Monday, August 10, 2009
Critique Groups: Serious Business or Good Fun?
Since I turned in a book on the 1st and am almost ready to buckle down to finishing the next one, I have been plotting new stories. This writing business overlaps itself and could make the sanest person’s eye twitch. While I’m working on one story, I need to have one or two others under consideration on an editor’s desk. Also while working on a story, I get edits and author alterations for a previous one. By the time a book is actually in stores, I’ve usually written one or two more, plotted a couple, and worked on cover art information. So, when I have a book on the shelves, I have to go back and remind myself what it’s about to promote it. LOL Or even read it if I’m asked to join a reader’s group for discussion! Don’t laugh.
My friend Bernadette has been my critique partner practically ever since we joined RWA the same year in—confession time—1988. She remembers everything about every story anyone writes and can keep it all straight. I confess, her brain scares me. But then I scare myself. I read or critique for another person and forget what the story was about within a couple of weeks. I justify that by saying I simply have too much on my mind to retain it all. Don’t blow my comfort level by disagreeing.
I am a writer who appreciates a good critique group or partner. I've been in a critique group for all the years that I've been published—and most of those in a group that meets every single week. We go through stages: Levels of productivity, trying out techniques that work, members moving away and, of course, our process of screening a replacement.
It's serious business, this critique group thing. You don't invite anyone who isn't compatible. You have to respect the people who are going to offer comments on your work. For me it has nothing to do with published or unpublished; it has to do with work ethic, knowledge or willingness to learn, and enthusiasm. And another creative brain ain't nothin' to turn up your nose at. 
I love my other brains. They are priceless during the brainstorming process—or when I'm stuck. Sure, I come up with the ideas on my own, and I put the pieces together and make all the decisions and write the story, but I only have one brain and one life experience. Getting feedback from other writers who have different perspectives and who understand the process of story writing makes their contributions invaluable.
Some writers don't like anyone else meddling in their stories—some find it changes their story too much. I go into the process with chosen elements I won't budge on, so the possibility of taking my story a wrong direction isn't a problem for me. I'm flexible about everything else because new perspectives keep me fresh. If a writer in my group makes a suggestion for someone’s story that isn't considered, it's not because the thought was a bad idea; it's just because that idea didn't work for that particular story. There are no wrong ideas. We all understand that and nobody gets her nose out of joint. We often use Pam McCutcheon’s brainstorming cards because they give us themes and traits for a starting point.
These people are my best friends. We share other things besides writing, and when someone moves away, we stay in touch. But we always remember why we are friends. We’re together because we’re writers, and our goal is to help each other write the best stories possible. Thank you to the clever writers who have critiqued with me over the years! If you’re one of them, shout out a HOWDY!
Friday, August 07, 2009
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Cool Stuff: Lid Lifters
I gave up electric can openers several years ago. My daughters never used them because they don't like counter clutter (not a problem for me) but I always hated cleaning them and cleaning around them and a hand opener is just more convenient, I discovered after how many years.But I always like a cool new gadget, so when I saw the Kuhn Rikon safety lifters in a magazine, I had to check them out online. At factorydirect2you.com there were several really cool choices, including one called a ratchet safety lid lifter, especially handy for lefties and easy on the wrists. But I fell for this one.
However, once I saw the shipping price (free shipping over $99.), I checked out amazon. Lo and behold--cheaper by $5-10 and eligible for free shipping with a $25. order. I keep things in my wish list just so I can bring an order to $25. or $30. for the free shipping. So I added Victorian paperdolls.
Yes, you heard me right. Besides a love for paperdolls since childhood, these are fabulous for costuming characters, because of the detailed descriptions of clothing. I own many already and add to the collection one at a time this way.So anyway, the advantages of the lid lifter I chose:
* Automatically attaches to can
* Leaves no sharp edges
* Touchless system keeps hands off of lids
* Cutting wheel never contacts food
* Lids do not drop into can
Sounds pretty cool, eh? Can't wait for it to arrive.
Monday, August 03, 2009
How Much Research is Too Much?
There are definitely plenty of things a writer needs to know before she starts to write her book. Characters don’t exist in a vacuum; they have occupations and homes and families and histories and nationalities and all number of things we need to know to make them three-dimensional and bring realism to the story.
My December book, Her Colorado Man, is set just outside a town I’ve used in a previous story. Once I’ve done all the work for a setting, it only makes sense to get some mileage out of it. Colorado is a common setting for me. I own picture books, reference books and maps as well as books on plants and animals. I had another reason for the location, other than its convenience, however: I made my heroine part of a large German family who own a brewery, so I had to select a location to support the operation. The cold-water streams that flow from the mountains were perfect.
And then I had to know enough about brewing beer to decide which method they used and why, and which year would be workable. I chose a year when bottling was first being introduced and also a year that there was a huge Exposition in Denver. So my actual location and the brewery are fabricated, but everything about the people and production and operation and the time period are factual. Keeping facts as close to real as possible makes the reader believe.
I also had to know something about my hero who comes to this town from Alaska, where he’s been delivering mail between tent towns and postal stations. That research was probably the most difficult, because all the facts easily found about Juneau and the Yukon pertain to the gold rush, which didn’t happen until after my time period. So that part of my education took more searching.
So besides looking up breweries, their operation and types of brewing methods before I started, I searched for information on sled dogs, Alaskan temperatures, modes of travel and traditional Bavarian foods. I ended up with a binder full of facts and pictures. Sometimes I have to make an additional folder on one subject, like say liveries or beer making. In my opinion, you can’t ever know too much about your location or your topic or the cultures of your people.
Confession: I’m a paper person. I’ve learned to use PBWiki, personal online storage, but even though I have that ability and I’ve bookmarker the online information, I still want to be able to flip through my binder and put my finger on that list of names I was going to use. I need to see the paragraph about the competitive advantages of lager brewing over ale. That’s just me. If you are a writer, maybe you’ve got a smarter way to store your research, and if so, I applaud you. The important thing is that your method works for you, and you’re not losing writing time searching for something you’ve lost.
Now just because I have all that info doesn’t mean I will ever need to or that I ever should use it all. A writer knows far more about her subjects than she should ever use in a story. But she needs to know it, because if she didn’t, she’d make mistakes. I have many writer friends who love the research part so much that it takes on a life of its own. Once they start, they can’t stop.
Here’s how to know when to quit researching: If your study is cutting into your production, you’re researching too much. If you get caught up in the fact-finding and aren’t tallying a page count, you’re doing too much research. If you’re not putting words on pages, you’re avoiding writing. Give your study a rest and write the story. You can learn the rest of the details as you need them. I learn enough to get started and then I begin. When I get to something I don’t know, I simply google the subject. If I’m on a roll and need to know something, I leave an asterisk and come back to it after the muse is burned out for the day.
So, yes there is a lot a writer needs to know, but the wise writer knows when to call a halt get down to business.
My December book, Her Colorado Man, is set just outside a town I’ve used in a previous story. Once I’ve done all the work for a setting, it only makes sense to get some mileage out of it. Colorado is a common setting for me. I own picture books, reference books and maps as well as books on plants and animals. I had another reason for the location, other than its convenience, however: I made my heroine part of a large German family who own a brewery, so I had to select a location to support the operation. The cold-water streams that flow from the mountains were perfect.
And then I had to know enough about brewing beer to decide which method they used and why, and which year would be workable. I chose a year when bottling was first being introduced and also a year that there was a huge Exposition in Denver. So my actual location and the brewery are fabricated, but everything about the people and production and operation and the time period are factual. Keeping facts as close to real as possible makes the reader believe.
I also had to know something about my hero who comes to this town from Alaska, where he’s been delivering mail between tent towns and postal stations. That research was probably the most difficult, because all the facts easily found about Juneau and the Yukon pertain to the gold rush, which didn’t happen until after my time period. So that part of my education took more searching.
So besides looking up breweries, their operation and types of brewing methods before I started, I searched for information on sled dogs, Alaskan temperatures, modes of travel and traditional Bavarian foods. I ended up with a binder full of facts and pictures. Sometimes I have to make an additional folder on one subject, like say liveries or beer making. In my opinion, you can’t ever know too much about your location or your topic or the cultures of your people.
Confession: I’m a paper person. I’ve learned to use PBWiki, personal online storage, but even though I have that ability and I’ve bookmarker the online information, I still want to be able to flip through my binder and put my finger on that list of names I was going to use. I need to see the paragraph about the competitive advantages of lager brewing over ale. That’s just me. If you are a writer, maybe you’ve got a smarter way to store your research, and if so, I applaud you. The important thing is that your method works for you, and you’re not losing writing time searching for something you’ve lost.
Now just because I have all that info doesn’t mean I will ever need to or that I ever should use it all. A writer knows far more about her subjects than she should ever use in a story. But she needs to know it, because if she didn’t, she’d make mistakes. I have many writer friends who love the research part so much that it takes on a life of its own. Once they start, they can’t stop.
Here’s how to know when to quit researching: If your study is cutting into your production, you’re researching too much. If you get caught up in the fact-finding and aren’t tallying a page count, you’re doing too much research. If you’re not putting words on pages, you’re avoiding writing. Give your study a rest and write the story. You can learn the rest of the details as you need them. I learn enough to get started and then I begin. When I get to something I don’t know, I simply google the subject. If I’m on a roll and need to know something, I leave an asterisk and come back to it after the muse is burned out for the day.
So, yes there is a lot a writer needs to know, but the wise writer knows when to call a halt get down to business.
Saturday, August 01, 2009
COOL STUFF: Storybook Endings
Don't have time or desire to scrapbook, but want a memory book? Need a unique gift or calendar? here's a place where you can upload your own photos and make a book or a calendar of your very own. It's easy and not very expensive/ You can browse what others have created for ideas. Check it out at StoriesbyEveryone.com
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