WriterChick

Ice Storms and Updates

2009-03-07T13:13:00.005-06:00

So very much has happened since my last blog post!

For example, I have officially moved to Western Kentucky, though we still have our farm in Tennessee, and plan to maintain it. One dog, five cats, and one parrot moved with us, while two dogs, three cats, and all the yard birds stayed with my oldest child and her husband. Never fear, however. Shortly, we'll have a full compliment of chickens, ducks, geese, peafowl, and turkeys again. We live farther out in the middle of nowhere than ever, which lends more power to my next big announcement, which is--

WE SURVIVED ICE STORM 2009!

Which was, according to FEMA and state officials, the worst and largest natural disaster to hit Kentucky in modern history. We went 24 days without power, and let me tell you, that's a good way to test relationships and sanity. We had many days with no water or heat, and my poor son had to go live with his sister for 6 weeks, until we got everything straightened out again. Still so much clean up to do, with fallen trees, but bless every power crew, local and out of state, who worked 24-7 for WEEKS until we were able to have light and heat again.

So, fair warning. We made it through, and now we have two farms with two separate sets of animals to create interesting situations. And, we now live even farther than ever in the absolute middle of nowhere, so adventures will abound!

Happy spring. I am so very ready for warmth!

Secrets of the Dragon Riders

2008-09-21T22:48:00.004-05:00

Isn't this the coolest cover ever? I really want a dragon. Seriously. If I could pick one mythical creature to have, it would definitely be a dragon. Yes, I know unicorns are cute and werewolves and vamps dark and mysterious--but dragons?

Dragons = cool.

I need a sign at the front drive of the farm that reads:

ALL DRAGONS WELCOME.

How is raising a dragon like writing a book?

What would Carl Jung think of Eragon?

Why might Roran be the real hero of the Inheritance series?

Who wouldn’t want to be a Dragon Rider? Especially when it means having a dragon like Saphira—part teacher, part best friend, and all amazing.

But being a Dragon Rider is about more than companionship. Ride along with some of your favorite authors as they dive deeper into Christopher Paolini’s epic Inheritance series, and the mysteries of the Dragon Riders.

Find out:

· What Paolini does—and doesn’t—owe to Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and the rest of the fantasy pantheon

· The Inheritance series’ explanation for villainy, and for heroism

· Why, when it comes to being a Dragon Rider, older isn’t always wiser

James A. Owen is the author and illustrator of the Chronicles of the Imaginarium Geographica—which includes Here, There Be Dragons, The Search for the Red Dragon, and The Indigo King—as well as the Starchild comic series. He lives and works in northeastern Arizona.

My contribution to this one involves the concept of older and wiser. DOES older always mean wiser? I don't think so. Grab this beautiful book to read my opinion, and lots of other great essays concerning this wonderful, fun series.

Bella, Edward, Twilight--We Got Yer Obsessions Riiiight Here

2008-05-08T08:18:00.004-05:00

The Twilight anthology is here! Thought I'd show you the cover:

My essay deals directly with the mysterious, wicked, yet loveable Edward. Is he a romantic hero to die for, or a barely-controlled serial killer waiting to strike? Check out my piece "A Very Dangerous Boy" and make up your own mind!

Now, here's the scoop on the rest of the anthology:

An excuse to fall in love with Bella and Edward all over again. . .

Borders Exclusive anthology A New Dawn gives readers more of Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series!

Breaking Dawn, the fourth and final title in Stephenie Meyer’s cult hit Twilight series is released Aug. 2, with the feature film based on the first book, Twilight, following on its heels Dec. 12. In the ensuing frenzy, the series’ fans will be looking for more of their favorite series. Thankfully, A New Dawn: Your Favorite Authors on Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Series, edited by New York Times bestselling author Ellen Hopkins, delivers with fresh takes on Bella, Edward, Jacob and the rest of Forks, Wash. It hits Borders’ shelves this June.

In A New Dawn, 13 beloved and up-and-coming writers for teens, including Megan McCafferty, Robin Brande, Rachel Caine and Cassandra Clare, discuss the Twilight series in surprising, funny and insightful pieces that run the gamut from how the series is like a Shakespearean tragedy to whether it’s easier (and safer!) to date a vampire or a werewolf.

A New Dawn is the second in a new series of books called Teen Libris, where Independent Reader and Young Adult authors give their insights on favorite IR and YA series for an IR and YA audience. Other titles include Through the Wardrobe, on C. S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, edited by Herbie Brennan and released in April; Demigods and Monsters, on Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, edited by series author Rick Riordan himself and released in May; and Secrets of the Dragon Riders, on Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance series, edited by James A. Owen and to be released in July. The series will be carried exclusively in Borders bookstores.

The perfect companion to the Twilight series, A New Dawn sates Twilight fans’ hunger for their favorite series while showing them a few more things to love about Stephenie Meyer’s epic love story along the way.

Book Details
Title: A New Dawn: Your Favorite Authors on Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Series
Authors: Ellen Hopkins, Robin Brande, Rachel Caine, Cassandra Clare, Rosemary Clement-Moore, Linda Gerber, Cara Lockwood, Megan McCafferty, K.A. Nuzum, James A. Owen, Janette Rallison, Ellen Steiber, Anne Ursu, Susan Vaught
Publisher: Teen Libris (developed for Borders, Inc., by BenBella Books)
Publication: June 2008, $14.99, Trade paperback, ISBN-13: 9780979233159
200 pages, 6 x 9

Available exclusively at Borders bookstores.

Things I Learned This Morning

2008-04-26T08:40:00.002-05:00

Each day truly does have something to offer. Today, in fact, I've already appreciated a number of life's lessons, which I thought I would pass on, in hopes others might benefit.

1. A tiny, tiny bit of fresh ginger root in tea goes a loooooong, looooong way.

2. My son's surround sound can play Charmed reruns much louder than my surround sound can play old 70's Top Tracks of satellite radio, which makes it hard to concentrate while making tea and slicing fresh ginger root.

3. Parrots seem to like fresh ginger root.

4. My son can also listen to the British audio version of Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets, while watching Charmed, making my Top Tracks nothing more than background patter, and robbing me of all ability to think.

5. It's easy to poke my thumb while slicing fresh ginger root and trying to think and figure out what song is playing on Top Tracks over Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (British audio version) and Charmed reruns and trying to keep the parrot away from fresh ginger root because I don't know if parrots are supposed to eat fresh ginger root.

6. Little chicks and turkey poults drying in the incubator's brooder can make noises louder than Harry Potter and the The Chamber of Secrets (British audio version) and Charmed reruns. They don't seem to care one way or the other about fresh ginger root.

7. Parrots can imitate little chick and turkey poult noises while simultaneously swiping and eating their fill of fresh ginger root.

8. Loud imitations of little chick and turkey poult noises screeched directly into the human eardrum can cause people to poke their already sore thumb again, while attempting to slice fresh ginger root.

9. The amount of bird poo a parrot can store overnight is formidable, especially when it lands on your right shoulder in a warm, rushing burst, and also plops into your tea.

10. It does not smell like fresh ginger root.

How To Set A Varmint Trap

2008-04-08T21:52:00.004-05:00

1. Determine that some evil creature is murdering your adorable chickens, late in the depths of the night.

2. Partially bankrupt the family to purchase two humane live traps.

3. Break the first one fairly immediately. Trash it.

4. Break one half of the second one.

5. Take partially functioning live trap to the local feed store, get laughed at a lot by the guys there, but at least learn how to set the )#(*)#!! thing.

6. Bung up several fingers accidentally springing the trap while practicing.

7. Scour the internet for proper bait for various varmints.

8. Purchase frozen chicken. Leave out to thaw. Snatch back from dogs several times as they try to escape with it.

9. Trap three dogs and five of seven felines (who hate the dogs and you, too, for catching them) in the house

10. As the three dogs and five felines make perseverative sojurns to the closed pet door, risk the need for stitches to trap the sixth feline, and cram her in the laundry room, because she REALLY doesn't get along with the other dogs and cats.

11. Hunt and at last trap the seventh feline. Listen to them all howl.

12. Listen to son howl in his sleep, demanding that we shut the pets up.

13. Tell son to shut up (while bandaging bruised fingers and cat scratches).

14. Attempt to cover parrot before the parrot wakes. Fail. Listen to entire parrot repertoire of chirps, words, phrases, sentences, entreaties, whistles, and sound effects (fire alarm, alarm clock, sirens of all varieties, answering machine beeps, answering machine messages, and now to our great chagrin, muzac hold music he has learned during trips to the office).

15. Cover fledgling chicks and ducks and turkeys, currently about 30, who have been agitated in their brooder, peeping and quacking until the parrot peeps and quacks on top of everything else.

16. Play cat-hockey with the broom to get out the back door, with most of the less frozen chicken.

17. Almost break hand trying to set humane (for the animals, not for us) trap again.

18. Return to house (see cat-hockey entry).

19. Proceed to catch several stray tom cats before midnight, set them free, begin again at item 16.

20. Catch large raccoon by morning.

21. Argue for many hours about what to do with said raccoon.

22. Argue over whether or not to give raccoon food and water while you're arguing.

23. Finally decide to drive about five miles away and release raccoon.

24. Achieve this without getting bitten (no small feat). Curse whoever called traps humane, as there is nothing about them designed for humans. Watch as raccoon flees in a straight line directly back toward your farm.

25. Drive slowly back to your own driveway, wondering who will get home first, you or the raccoon.

How I Live Now

2008-03-05T15:55:00.002-06:00

No, not the Meg Rosoff book that won all those awards.

I'm talking about life-with-parrot.

Please understand, I've never wanted to own a parrot, but my family has dreamed parrot-dreams for years, and sometimes when you're part of a family, well, it just has to go their way. So, enter Frank the Parrot, about whom I've spoken several times already. He's really cute and sweet as parrots go. But he's not supposed to be my bird.

The only thing is, nobody told Frank the Parrot this simple fact.

And Frank the Parrot has decided I am his one and only, his long-lost soulmate, the female with whom he should bond for time eternal. With parrots, this involves lovely behavior such as regurgitating food for me to share (parrot puke, woot! on my shoulder, woot!), nesting, defending and protecting, and oh, joy. Life is busy. It goes something like this.

1. I get up and have coffee scratching Frank's head as he sits on my chair arm, or more typically, my chest, attempting to block my view of my laptop. This could go on all day if I'd allow it. When I stop, Frank often gets distressed and tries to pull my hand back to his head.

2. I write an email. Frank lovingly vomits his breakfast and gazes at me, hoping I'll partake.

3. A few minutes later, puke and other leavings removed, I return to email and what's left of my coffee. Frank speaks sweet parrot nothings in my ear. Literally. "Hi, Frank. Pretty bird. Whatcha doing bird. peekaboooooo. Hello? Heelllloooo? Hey, Frank. How are ya, Frank. Helllooooooooooo? Peeeeeeekaaaaboooooooo." Then he usually burps. He obviously thinks this is sexy and laughs. Then he bites my ear a lot.

4. I perservere and write another email and slog through the last sip of coffee as Frank heads off to my bookshelf to build me a wonderful parrot home. This involves selecting all my papers, pitching them in the floor one at a time, and the same for books, cd's, remotes, the phone, and anything else I've been foolish enough to leave in his reach. I often remove him from the bookshelf 20-30 times, at which point, go back to paragraph 2 and begin again.

5. If Frank gets everything removed from his chosen shelf (which varies by day), he'll then happily begin chewing into the wood to hollow out my soon-to-be-nest. I remove him 20-30 more times, at which point he swaps to trying to hollow out my nest in the hall wall, my roomate's desk, the floor in front of my chair, the widescreen television, the laptop screen, or my piano.

6. If I leave the room, Frank follows, strolling along behind to supervise.

7. If I eat, Frank eats with me, as in right on my arm, out of my plate, unless I put him in his cage.

8. If I move too quickly, Frank flies to land on my shoulder so he doesn't miss a moment of my fascinating journies. This gets interesting in places like . . . the bathtub.

9. I spend a goodly portion of the afternoon sucking up to the cats and dogs who can't get near me without being parrot-bitten for daring to notice my existence.

10. I spend most of the evening sucking up to the sulking family, who wants to be adored by the parrot, who bites them and ignores them.

11. I spend the wee hours of the night reading parrot training articles obsessively.

So, yesterday, I tried "ignoring" the mating behavior and all the affection, and refused to let Frank get on my shoulder (the advice of so many of the articles). At which point, Frank had a fit of pique and made sad, upset noises, said depressed things, then ripped out lots of his pretty feathers.

Yep. He's the psycho-stalker-I'll-hurt-myself-if-you-leeeeaave-me bird boyfriend. Oh, goodie!

After more article reading last night, today I am trying to use my status as the parrot's preferred human to widen his horizons and get him to attend to others. I encourage him to step up on them and praise him for attention he pays them. We're doing a step-up-with-no-demands routine, where he's just asked to get up on someone else, then gets to return to his own activities after a favored treat.

If this doesn't work, I might have to move away, or take out a restraining order. . . .

My Brain Scan

2008-02-24T11:40:00.002-06:00

Through The Wardrobe--A Whole New Look At Narnia

2008-02-23T21:39:00.001-06:00

The short version: I've got a piece in the upcoming BenBella Books essays on C.S. Lewis's The Chronicles of Narnia.

These books, targeted for middle-graders and teens (SMART middle-graders and teens!), are thought-provoking, controversial, and in my opinion, completely fresh and delicious.

Here's the long version:

Through the Wardrobe
Your Favorite Authors on C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia

Edited by Herbie Brennan

Why is Prince Caspian the ultimate teenager?
What does Narnia have to do with the Nazis?
How come C. S. Lewis has such a big problem with lipstick, anyway?

Step through the wardrobe . . . and into the imaginations of sixteen friends of Aslan as they explore Narnia, from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to The Last Battle, from the heart of Caspian’s kingdom to the Eastern Seas.

Join in on the adventure, the battles, and—of course—the celebrating!

Find out:

· How in Narnia (like in our world), bigger isn’t always better
· Why Edmund Pevensie is totally crush-worthy
· What tea and Turkish Delight have to do with religion
· Why it’s okay to have an occasional temper tantrum

Contributors

Deb Caletti
Diane Duane
Sarah Beth Durst
Brent Hartinger
Susan Juby
Sophie Masson
Kelly McClymer
O.R. Melling
Lisa Papademetriou
Diana Peterfreund
Susan Vaught
Zu Vincent and Kiara Koenig
Ned Vizzini
Elizabeth Wein

Interview, Dracula, and Frozen Dead Guys

2008-02-17T21:06:00.003-06:00

Dr. Missy interviewed me!

You can read it here, and find out if I have webbed feet, a tree fetish, and what I make of the phrase "searing prose."

You can also read about Frozen Dead Guys (I'm serious), and ways to keep Dracula/various politicians out of your house.

Dr. Missy is nothing if not thorough.

Stuff To Do With A Parrot On Your Head

2008-02-14T21:01:00.005-06:00

I think the following activities should be awarded extra credit, if you can do them with a parrot on your head.

Washing clothes

Bathing a dog

Folding clothes

Walking on a treadmill (at 10% incline)

Going to the bathroom

Eating a meal (parrot wants chip, parrot wants chip now now now)

Using an elliptical trainer

Bathing a kid

Riding a stationary bike

Writing a chapter

Cleaning up puke

Bathing the kid again (see above)

Drinking a Diet Pepsi (parrot wants lid, constantly)

Scrubbing the kitchen

And of course, the best one--

Freaking out the cat

The parrot's name is Frank, btw. Happy Valentine's Day!

Absolute Incontrovertible Proof of . . .

2008-02-09T20:22:00.000-06:00

GEEKDOM!

YEAH!!

Animal Eccentricities

2008-01-28T09:46:00.000-06:00

A friend of mine pointed out that all of my animals have bizarre neuroses or obsessions. Which, I suppose I have to admit, they do. So this morning, I set out to list them.

Dogs

Kate. She's the Doberman. Kate must sleep with something that makes a crinkly noise. She usually prefers to surf counters until she finds the exact perfect object. Chip bags and cracker sleeves were once her favorite, but as we got tired of waking to crushed-to-death snacks (she doesn't eat them, you understand, she just crinkles them), we have moved those up high. So, lately it's been a Splenda bag. Last night, a bag of coffee.

Maggie. She's the collie. For Maggie it's chocolate. I have explained to her many times, chocolate is bad for dogs. She doesn't care. She's very old and rarely gets off the floor, but open anything chocolate, and she materializes in front of you, panting, eyes pleading desperately.

Alfred. Dachshund-Basset mix. If it's food, any food, all food, he's there. But that's not his weirdness. He's weird about his people. If we settle in different rooms, he whines and runs back and forth, trying to decide where he's supposed to be. No amount of encouragement alleviates this.

Zenia. Very old Dachshund. Apples, peanutbutter, cauliflower, bananas. Yeah. I know. But, that's what she dances for.

Cats

Aggie. Kitten. Cheese. CHEESE. CHHHHEEEEEEESE!!!!! She howls. She leaps. She screams. She'll even eat the wrappers if they aren't secured.

Freaky. My writing cabin, it is hers. If the door opens, she springs inside. She's been accidentally locked in there for as long as three days. I finally put food out there to be sure she'd be okay if that ever happens again.

Frank. Mommie. Frank is psycho about being on a mommie. Frank thinks he's tiny, not 20 pounds, and must be held by a mommie at all times.

Elizabeth. Anything that resembles a basket. All baskets belong to her. She will defend them like a stoked-up Samurai with a serious attitude problem.

Harry. The upstairs bed. See above re: stoked-up Samurai with serious attitude problem.

Itty-Bitty. Loving. Adoring. Right beside you. But don't look at him. If you look at him, he vanishes like a faerie in a bad windstorm. Whoosh. No looking. Don't. Don't do it!

Amelia. Lives on the porch and deck, won't come in. Howls at the door. We open the door. She accepts petting, but won't come in. If we drag her in, she scrambles through the house and flees out the dog door. Best we can figure, she wants us to come out there and live on the porch or deck with her.

I'll omit the birds because it's Monday, and there's just too many of them . . . for now.

Background Movies

2008-01-23T09:26:00.000-06:00

Some people have "comfort foods."

I have "comfort movies."

I have tons of movies I can put on when I write, kind of like background music. Here's my list, to the best of my ability to confess it:

Star Wars (I-VI)
Star Trek (II, III, IV, VI, First Contact, Insurrection)
Harry Potter (All of them so far)
Kill Bill (I & II)
Air Force I
Con Air
Lord of the Rings (I-III)
Eddie
My Fellow Americans
G.I. Jane
Murder at 1600
Independence Day
National Treasure
Pirates of the Caribbean
Shawshank Redemption
Terminator (I)
Twister
Miss Congeniality
Hunt for Red October
Men of Honor
Notting Hill

There's probably about 10 more I'm forgetting, and these aren't in any order--but I loooove these movies. They're like old friends. Like comfy blankets, or a perfect pair of socks or shoes. And some of the greatest lines EVER. Um, lots of which I can't print here since younger folks read my blog.

I'm thinking today may be a Lord of The Rings Two Towers day...

TO THE KING!!!!!!

Five Ways to Celebrate Finishing Revisions

2008-01-20T10:06:00.000-06:00

Eat barbecue!

Watch stupid movies!

Start writing a new book!

Start reading a new book!

BUY MORE CHICKENS!

Woooohooooo!!!

Top Ten Ways To Avoid A Revision

2008-01-19T09:34:00.000-06:00

Writing is fun.

Revisions . . . are not fun.

So, usually I jump right in and get them done, but often I struggle with a period of avoidance in the middle of slogging through the changes. I've come up with very creative ways to do this, too:

10. Play with kitten. Even go so far a bring home a new kitten that NEEDS lots of playing-with.
9. Actually answer the telephone so I have to handle current crises in the lives of my patients/kids/friends/family.
8. Play with dogs. Any of them, take your pick, I don't need a new one of these.
7. Feed animals because on a farm, this takes a while--a long while, especially if I decide to scrub out all the waterers.
6. Do housework. You know, like, scrubbing baseboards or cleaning out two years of clutter in the closet.
5. Play with chickens. This is hard, but it can be done.
4. Exercise. Okay, yeah, I know, that's pretty desperate.
3. Decide to answer email I've let sit for six months--or more.
2. Look up long-lost relatives and email them.
1. Clean out computer files. All of them. As in, open every document, come up with new folders, decide what to delete, delete some essential microsoft somethingorother, freak out as I have to reinstall my entire operating system . . .

The Shelf Next To My Head

2008-01-18T10:00:00.000-06:00

I have several writing areas, one of which is a recliner in my living room. Beside my recliner is a bookshelf, and on the bookshelf is an assortment of things I'm currently using in my writing, or enjoying as escapes from my writing.

I realized this morning that the shelf is . . . interesting. In that, I-hope-no-crime-ever-gets-committed-here-because-FBI-profilers-would-nail-me way.

A pencil sharpener. The kind with the wicked little razor blade.
Three red pencils sent to me by my Random House copy editor. Very sharp.
Two remotes (one universal) that look like satellite control panels.
Armed and Dangerous: A Writer's Guide to Weapons (Michael Newton)
Jane Eyre (second edition)
The Testament (John Grisham)
Body Trauma: A Writer's Guide to Wounds and Injuries (David W. Page)
Darkest Night of the Year (Dean Koontz)
Eldest (Christopher Paolini)
The Encyclopedia of Hell (Miriam Van Scott)
Lots of books about serial killers...
DVDs: The Dark Ages, A History of Britain, The Weather Man
Deadly Doses: a Writer's Guide to Poisons (Serita D. Stevens)
Three screen-saver CD's (wildlight, mountains of the world, castles of europe)
One pink pig. Stuffed. It didn't used to be alive. I promise.

No murders allowed within a twenty-mile radius, please.

Murder Mysteries for Teens

2008-01-17T09:24:00.000-06:00

One of my new buddies LEO expressed an interest in good murder mysteries for teens. I told her the one I knew, Something Rotten by Alan Gratz.

Then I went to the wonderful teachers and librarians and editors and authors on the Rutgers Child-Lit list and asked if they had any recommendations for contemporary murder tales. Here's what they suggested:

The Echo Falls Mysteries by Peter Abraham
Acceleration by Graham McNamee
Blackthorn winter by Kathryn Reiss
The Christopher killer : a forensic mystery by Alane Ferguson
The Angel of Death : a forensic mystery by Alane Ferguson
The Killer's Cousin by Nancy Werlin

Also recommended were books by Walter Sorrells.

I'll add one more group of books. I *love* Philip Pullman's Sally Lockhart series. These are historical, not contemporary--adore these books. So tense, so much fun to try to figure out the possibilities. And the bad guys and things they do--truly scary and evil. Sally is an amazing heroine.

Good reading, everyone!

Heeeere, Doggie Doggie Doggie

2008-01-16T09:36:00.000-06:00

All righty. I did cats yesterday, so today--dogs.

Maggie. Collie. Age 11. Maggie was rescued as a puppy, and her first act when she arrived was to hurl up a pile of really disgusting worms that looked a lot like spaghetti. The vet held out little hope, but Maggie was determined, and so were we, and here we are a decade later. She's creaky, doesn't see or hear very well, but is the unquestionable queen of the dog roost. Personality: We Are Not Amused.

Kate: Doberman. Age 5. Her ears aren't clipped. I've never been able to do that. Kate was not a rescue but a deliberate acquisition, as I've had a Doberman essentially all of my life. She's a little neurotic and must sleep with something that crinkles. Her favorite crinklies include packs of crackers, baggies (of anything), packets of coffee, and bags of chips--all of which she creatively skims off the counters, no matter where we hide things. I've also found her sleeping with shoes, blankets, cannisters of oatmeal, bandaids, chicken eggs, guinea eggs, and duck eggs. Personality: Did I Do That?

Alfred: Half Dachshund, Half Basset. He has some pictures way earlier in this blog. Age 4. Looks just like a really really really long, heavy dachshund. He's a rescue, abandoned at a vet's office. When I brought him home, the vet said he'd probably weigh 3 or 4 pounds, and he fit in my hand as a baby. Now he weighs almost 50 pounds, and barely fits in my lap. He will eat anything. *Anything*. Personality: Doh!

Zenia: Dachshund (very small). Age 15, nearing 16. She used to be red, but now she's white. We obtained her as a puppy, but gifted her to a dear friend of mine. This last year, Zenia was attacked by Pit Bulls. Her companion pup Pico was killed in the attack, but somehow, Zenia survived. My friend asked if she could convalesce here and remain until my friend could find a more stable environment for her. So, now, Zenia has blankets all over my house, including her very own electric blankee right next to my chair. She's doing fine, but prefers unusual snacks. Personality: I Am The Boss. Got Any Bananas?

Cat Rodeo Roundup

2008-01-15T13:04:00.000-06:00

Okay, so, these are my current cats.

Harry, age 9, color black, short-hair, female. Yes, her name is Harry Potter. Hey, it takes a long time to figure out if a cat is a girl or a boy. Obtained this cat by happenstance--looked up one day and she walked through the back door. She was about six weeks old. Personality: I Am Queen and You Are Not. Sniff.

Itty Bitty, age 8, color black, short-hair, male. He is one of Harry's kittens. And he's so not itty-bitty anymore. He weighs about 20 pounds. Personality: I Will Sit Close To You But Don't Look At Me!

Elizabeth, age 4, color pink and blue with a white tip on the tail (no, really, she does look pink and blue), short-hair, female. She is one of Harry's kitten's kitten. Personality: Does Not Play Well With Others.

Freaky, age ?, color tortoise-shell calico, short-hair, female, looks like she has a very dirty face. She's a got-by-happenstance kitty we discovered living on a tree branch behind our house. It took us months to tame her. Personality: I Make Biscuits On The Woooooorld!

Frank, age 2, color white with crystal-blue eyes, short-hair, male. Was dumped on my front porch with the rest of his litter. I found homes for all the other babies, but Frank stayed. Personality: I Am Huge And Hugely Cuuuuuute.

Amelia, age ?, color calico, short-hair, female. Intermittently appears on the back deck, never gets too close, eats our kitty food. Personality: Don't Blink Or You'll Miss Me.

Aggravation, aka Aggie, age 6 months (approximate), tiger-stripe gray, short-hair female. Discovered dumped at local twelve-step house, brought home by soft-touch roommate. Personality: Name Says It All.

Okay, that's it. I don't think I've forgotten anybody, but if I did, I'll revise. Or...if I find a new cat at my house when I get home. This does happen. Frequently.

If He Only Had a Brain

2008-01-14T11:00:00.000-06:00

Me: Honey, the duck's in the pigeon pen again.
Honey: @)(*$(#!!!! How is he doing that? It's fenced in, for God's sake.
Me: Don't know. But the duck's in the pigeon pen again.
*We pull on boots, coats, gloves, grab flashlights to head out into the dark, dark, sub-freezing, icy, misty, muddy night.
Drake in pigeon pen: Wwwwaaaaaack, waaaack, waaaaaaack, waaaaaAAAAaaaack...
(echoed by the four other ducks, standing nervously near the pen in the dark, staring in at drake)
Honey: @)#*((*!!
Me: @)(*$(*#
Honey: That way! That way! Don't let him get past you!
Me: <*splat*>
Honey: Ew. Bet that mud under the pigeon roost is gross.
Pigeons: (harmonic, choral cooing to express pride in fertile . . . uh. . . mud creation in which I'm bathing)
Me: @)*)(*@#*)!!!
Honey: Wait! Wait! I got him! <*splat*> Yep, pretty gross. It's actually really gross.

*I launch myself at rapidly waddling interloper drake, manage to land on him, grab him, and pick him up.

Me: Get the gate. Hurry!
Duck: @)*#$(_#!!!

Honey: I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying.
Me (to other ducks): Wait a minute! Don't forget this one!
All Ducks: @)(*#@(*!!!

*We head back in to shower, scour clothing, put flashlights on the Wal-Mart list since we broke these or lost them in pigeon muck.

Me: You really need to anchor the bottom wire in the pigeon pen tomorrow, so the duck doesn't get back in.
Honey: Do you suppose this is why old-time farmers ate their livestock after a point?

Be A Better Blogger--Or, Radio Tour, With Chickens...And Geese...And...

2008-01-13T12:03:00.000-06:00

Yeah. I keep swearing to be a better blogger. But I'm really going to try. S'riously.

For my inaugural I'm-Trying-Harder entry, I shall describe my most recent radio tour to promote my most recent young adult book, Big Fat Manifesto. To truly participate in the event, you'll have to meet several characters, and learn their noises (not necessarily in order of appearance):

Dogs (whimper, whine-whine-whiiiine, arf, Arf, ARF!! x 4 dogs)
Ducks (wack-wack-wack-wack)
Cats (yeeeooowl, puuuuurrrrrr, snuffle snuffle x 7 cats))
Chickens (cluck cluck, ba-cack, rrrr-rrr-rr-OOOOOOO x 40 ir so chickens)
Geese (eeeeehhhhaaaaaaannnk, EEEEEHHHHHHHAAAAANNNNKKKK x 4 geese)
Guineas (eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh) (sounds lots like machine gun fire, x 16 guineas)
Pigeons (coooooooooooo, cooooooooooooooo x 8 pigeons)
Turkeys (lulululululululululu, LULULULULULULULU x 1 determined Tom)
My Son (Pirates of the Carribean III: World's End, Hoist the Colors by Hans Zimmer and other scenes, on Dolby surround...very loud)
Universe (silent but obvious laughter)

Okay, got all that?

At 6:15 am CST, my telephone rings. It's the cheerful facilitator, getting ready to patch me through to my first interview.
Cat: (purring, butting handset, purring more)
Me: One second. I'll find a quiet place
Universe: (Laughter)
*I scramble downstairs to the living room, leaving cats closed upstairs. Most of them. Flip on light.
*Interview begins
*Below the front porch, just outside the living room, the geese and ducks, wake, stretch, waddle up the hill.
Me: And Big Fat Manifesto--
Geese: (Loud good-morning geese screamery)
Ducks: (wack-wack-wack-wack)
Dogs: (mid-range barking to say good morning to the geese)
*I scramble out of the living room down the hall to the bathroom, lock myself inside, as far from geese, ducks and dogs as possible.
*Interview continues.
*Exactly twenty seconds later, the geese tattle to the chickens that I'm in the bathroom
Chickens: (clucks, crows, lots of roosters, competing for who can be biggest baddest loudest)
*I scramble out of the bathroom to the next-door exercise room, so I'm at least away from one group of chickens.
*Interview continues.
*I pray the audience (LIVE audience) isn't getting too much of the farm background noise
Me: (with relief, as chickens, ducks, geese, dogs now a bit distant and muted) As I was saying, Big Fat Manifesto--
Dogs: (Whining at door, must get to mommy, who surely can't do interview alone)
Son: (Incoherent mumbling because dogs woke him up)
*Exactly twenty seconds of blissful uninterrupted interview
Son: (Flicks on television, DVD, surround sound, and sings at top volume--YO HO, Yo, ho, haul together, hoist the colors high, HEAVE ho, THIEVES and beggars, never shall we DIE--)

See, in the movie, that song is short.
When I'm on the telephone to some radio station live in New York City, it seems very long.
Especially as I'm running down the hall to the kitchen.
Followed by the dogs.
Who are still whining.

Me: (gasping, but functioning), Getting back to Big Fat Manifesto--
*Interview proceeds, switches to next of like 12 of these suckers, each 10-30 mins long, as I pace the kitchen, careful to keep out the dogs and not let the chickens see me.
*Trash man cometh.
Dogs (insane ultimate world-is-ending MOM THAT MAN IS STEALING OUR TRASH barking)
*Slam dog door, lock dogs in, flee to back porch as trash man drives off with his loot
Me: Aalllll righty, where were we? Oh yeah. Big Fat Manifesto--
Pigeons: (spotting mom, very coordinated choral cooing)
Guineas: (what's all that cooing? Only it comes out eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh-eh x 16 guineas, 100 decibels)
Turkey: (Lulululululululul!!!! Lululululululu!!)
*Flee to writing cabin, lock self in with phone
Me: What was my book title again?
Cat: (who sneaked into shed between legs) PppppuuuuuuuurrrrrrrUUUUUrrrrrUUUUURrrr)...

I wonder what will happen if I ever get on television?

Geek Trap

2007-03-03T21:50:00.000-06:00

I went to a local giant chain bookstore today, which shall remain nameless, and discovered something heinous.

The store as has a Geek Trap.

Seriously.

It works like this.

You, the unsuspecting geek, start up the long, narrow, endless winding staircase to the second floor in your prissy girl shoes, trying very hard not to look like a geek at all. About halfway up, as the stairs start to twist right, the fantasy and science fiction section LEAPS out at you from the left-hand side. The colorful displays of Ender's Game and Lord of the Rings and Dragons Out the Butt and all of that.

Your head whips to the left (note: opposite direction from the stair-twist).

In movie slow-mo, you tilt backward, and in your prissy girl shoes and skirt, do a remarkably un-prissy back-flip back down the steps, landing in a somewhat twisted heap right in front of the fantasy and science fiction shelves.

And off in the corner, a bunch of clerks are no doubt gathered, sniggering over their coffee and canoli. "Ha. Caught another one."

Luckily, all you get from the deal is a bruise, a sore shoulder, and two new dragon books and a new copy of Dune.

On audio.

Ahem.

Boycott the traps! Boycott the traps!

I don't suck at finishing stories

2007-02-03T23:32:00.000-06:00

At least not this week!

I just finished EXPOSED, and it's off in the hands of my critique partners.

My friend Missy, she of the freaky photos, has just started a blog. I dare you to read it. She'll probably blog more than me, because she's good that way. In between doing bizarre, cruel things to her current superhero main character, that is.

I've lost 136 pounds since the last time I blogged (on purpose, no surgery). That's something, right? Sheesh. It also says something for how long it has been since I've blogged.

From now on, I think I might talk about writing--kind of answering questions I've been getting from readers. If you have a topic you'd like to see, please drop me a note. I think I'll check with different writers, even, and get comments now and again. Except maybe Missy. She'd just send photos of goats on trampolines. We know about her.

I Suck At Volleyball

2006-07-29T19:55:00.000-05:00

I'm tall for a girl, a little over 5'8". I'm a large person, but I can swim a mile, walk a mile, cycle a mile--and recently have done so on the same day, even. I was athletic as a teenager and young adult, and in my prime spent hours each day playing soccer (which was/is an obsession).

However, this afternoon, I learned a very important fact: I suck at volleyball.

It *looks* fun. It really does. And it is! I totally enjoyed myself. But I suck. I actually did get the ball over the net the last time I served, but it was about ten feet outside the poles. I have grass burns on my elbows, not from a heroic dive to punch up a ball for someone to spike, but from falling on my ass just trying to track the ball when it whizzed over my head. I did manage not to twist a knee or ankle, but I think that's only because God takes care of fools and children, or so my grandmother always told me.

I wasn't a total waste. I returned volleys pretty well, especially after Billy, this very handsome and sweaty gentleman on my team (sweaty from running his num-nums off to cover my shots) started calling out my name every time the ball was about to hit me between the eyes. Or on the top of the head, which I know it did at least twice. And we won one of the two games we played, though certainly not because I served twice (under net, beside net), tripped over a water bottle, bashed myself in the face with my sizeable chest portion, or watched two balls bounce on the ground beside me--with my hands in beautiful ready position, I might add.

My team was very tolerant and good-natured. As for Billy, well, this is a young adult website, so I will behave with my comments about that sweet gorgeous chiseled hunk of patient, kind man. And I can still walk, albeit with a limp, and I didn't actually bite a hole in my tongue when that last ball hit me upside the jaw. I just thought I did.

Next time, what say I try something I might be good at, liiiii-iiiiike...karaoke?

::sound of screaming, people stampeding out of room::

Baby Guineas!

2006-07-09T13:21:00.000-05:00

We came to the porch yesterday, and when the guineas went by, we saw this! Can you find the fuzzy little golf-ball sized birds?

I think they are totally adorable. I hope they make it. The odds are poor, apparently, but we stunk so badly at raising our last load of keets that we're more than willing to let Mom Guinea try.

We also have four baby black-shoulder peafowl, though we lost one of our adults (sniff). So, the new pet total is as follows:

Dogs: 3
Cats: 7
Turkeys: 2
Guineas: *6*
Peafowl: *10*
Chickens: 63

On the writing side of things, I turned in two proposals to my agent this week--one contemporary, one fantasy. I have one contemporary proposal to go to meet my goal for this month.

Back to writing!