Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 165

Yeah... I can't figure it out either!

Okay-- some of you may have noticed that this post has been up for a little longer than usual. I don't know why, but GR isn't updating at the moment, so I thought I'd remind you that if you're checking out the blog here, I actually post from blogger and if you don't see a change, you can always go to www.writerslane.blogspot.com to see if this is REALLY the latest post. Don't go NOW, because the post I have up there is lame, and it's just my kids and stuff (and for my time-travelling whistle blower, PLEASE don't go look at my kids... creeps me the hell out!) but if you ever think, "Gee... I wonder if she's still around!" that's a good way to check if maybe I'm still alive and the feed is just being hella frickin' lazy.

In this case, the feed is just being hella frickin' lazy.

Anyway-- thought I'd let you know.

Amy

Grumpy Fairies, and No one can eat all the food.

Okay-- just a teeny little short post today.

First of all, Rhys sent me This Link on Twitter, and I have been laughing my ass off over it all day.  Dude, you and your dog will never be closer.  But if you DON'T have a dog, this will make you NEVER want to get one, EVER.  Could not stop laughing-- trust me!

Second, we ditched the kids TWICE this week, once for sushi (and yeah, we brought back leftovers) and once to go see Mate's friend, who had the barber give him a Mohawk as sort of a fundraiser.  Once he reached his fundraising goal, he shaved his head and posted it on Facebook and told all his friends, and we all went out to dinner.  We went to a soul food place, which means we went to a whole other part of town, and... uhm...  Dayum.  I mean, I can't eat there more than once a year, or I WILL weight 400 lbs and that's no joke, but... omg.  Tasty and wonderful and...

but we ended up bringing a lot of it home, mostly because Mate and I made a sad realization as we sat there and looked at smothered chicken and grits and collard greens and spiced yams and salmon patties and garlic fries and corn bread and...

Yeah.  NO one can eat all the food.  It would be great to eat all the food, but NO one can do it.  And if they can, they shouldn't.  No one can eat all the food.  We brought it home to the kids, and not even THEY could eat all the food.  It was pretty firkin' amazing.


And this?  This is Squish.  When Squish gets on a role with her playing things, she will pull them--one or two at a time--and line them up in the living room and just... play. Talk for them and send them on adventures and... you know.  All the stuff that kids do that charms the pants off us when we don't have to make them or force them or treat playtime as homework.  And sometimes, like today when we were watching her brother do gymnastics, all of that playtime travels with us.  This is what she sat and did for an hour today while I knitted.

No stuffed animals were harmed in the making of this blog--but I have to admit, I got a kick out of watching her!

Oh-- and the grumpy fairy pic?  Her sister took that and sent it to me.  It was there when I sat down to work tonight.

And on that note?  I'm going to bed.  I'll be witty and charming tomorrow.  Tonight?  I'm going to go back to my bed and moan, "No one can eat all the food!!!

Some Stories about Stories

 Okay-- a business post.  Mostly.  I had some rambling, but it's after 12, so I think I'll save hat for another day.

First of all, a reminder that Country Mouse is up for pre-sale at Riptide.  Now Riptide goes in for the pre-sales in a big way, they offer a very nice incentive to fork over your money before the product is officially available--a chance to win free books for a year!  Anyway-- this jaunty, hot little novella is getting a lot of attention because everyone knows that Aleks is awesomesauce (and yeah... the word is getting a trifle dated, but then, I'm still using "hella" and that dates back to the Reagan administration) and I just can't get enough of seen Owen and Malcolm on the cover!  Also, we're going on a blog tour together, which means that in a week we're going to be hitting about six OTHER people's blogs, and doing interviews and stuff.  Yeah.  I'm glad it's the both of us, because really?  Too much me is already too much.  You alls know how I feel about being the most boring human on the planet.  Hasn't changed.  Wish it had.  Hasn't. 






Which brings us to Talker, also in German, because Talker is all ABOUT change.  See, not so long ago, when someone asked me how I knew my work really wasn't pornography, I replied, "I'm pretty sure porn doesn't get translated into four language and put on audiobook!"  Arrogant?  Yeah.  I'm sorry.  It sounds arrogant--it sounded arrogant even when I said it, but I can't help it.  Everything I've believed about literature is embodied in the idea that it's universal.  Someday, maybe, Talker will be translated into Farsi or Hindi or Korean--but I'm not waiting for that day to be totally proud.  And this is it-- Talker's fourth translation.  It's also available in Italian, Spanish, and, I'm pretty sure, French.  And all three novellas are available in audiobook.  AND (and this part makes me really happy) in May, all three novellas will be available in the same bound edition.  I'm still a believer in printed paper-- don't think it doesn't tickle the hell out of me when I get a novel and hold it in my hands.  Real.  It feels real.  And for someone who deals in the imaginary all the frickin' time?  That's almost sexual right there.  Who needs pornography?  I've got PAPER!


And you know what else is coming back in paper? Gambling Men: The Novel.  Now, I felt compelled to put The Novel on this one, because GoodReads is having one HELL of a time with Super Sock Man.  In spite of the fact that SEVERAL people have explained to them that the novella with the cover with the socks on it is actually 750% LONGER than the original uber-short story (I think that's right-- uber short story was 3.5K, novella was over 26K) the librarians at GR keep combining the two stories together.  Okay, so fine-- I'll NEVER have any sort of idea how much people like the second one as opposed to the first, and I'm having a VERY HARD time figuring out what my sales are--but that's NOT happening with Gambling Men: The Novel.

The original Gambling Men story came to less then 5K, and was inspired by this video.  It was divided in sections and used as a pivot for all of the different parts of the Curious Anthology.  I enjoyed the two characters, so, for the hell of it, I wrote Raising the Stakes, which was sort of the next step in Jace and Quent's journey.  Those were the only short stories about Jace and Quent that I published, but I continued to write about them--in fact, there were five more stories when I was done.

Well, for the helluvit, mostly, I kept sending these stories to Elizabeth and Lynn ad Dreamspinner--and Jace and Quent became sort of their comfort guys.  No pressure, no angst, really, just a couple of major testosterone hardbodies whose only solid basis for communication was poker.  They were infuriating and funny and irritating and dear--and very, very hot.

Last summer, Elizabeth said, "I want a novel.  You must give them a novel."

And, after some mutual plottying in public (not nearly as dirty as it sounds) I had this idea.

See, the original stories had all been written from Quent's point of view, and they gave us a very nice story arc.  But what about Jace's point of view?

Well, I've got to tell you, Jace's point of view rocked.  From that one little story, and it's even shrimpier counterpart, this story is nearly 68K.  Jace's character is completely filled out, and Quentin's character has a lot more depth as well.  There are nuances and small twists and some bumpy paths to true love, in spite of the fact that the original story points to one night of passion and smooth sailing from their on out.  And (as it often does with writing) something amazing happened when the two guys got together and formed their own gestalt.

It became a whole different hand of poker.

I love this story.  I love the way I was inspired to write it, I love that Lynn, Elizabeth, and Mary all adore it (the novel is dedicated to them) and I love how it started out small, then dared to dream a little bigger, and then finally dreamed itself into a complex, complete novel.

I love the cover, which is perfect for the story as a whole.

I love that I had to learn how to play poker in order to write it.

I love that it's coming out May 7th, and I can hardly wait!

Of course I have to-- but still.  It's Jace and Quent, and they're sort of sentimental favorites.  I'm so looking forward to them!

There Was DUSTING.

Okay-- I'll admit it.  I've been guilty of... of...

HOUSECLEANING!  
*scream*  *shudder*


Forgive me.  I know, I know, my trademark is that I don't give a royal housecleaning crap, but... well, I had to.  I've excavated the kitchen table TWICE in one week, and then?  And THEN?  I ORGANIZED. It was horrible-- traumatic even.  I went through stuff, I threw shit away.  I... (oh gods... so hard to even say!) 


 I DUSTED! 


Stivie and Zoomboy, hiding Chicken who
 didn't want her picture taken. I know.  I know.  Don't think less of me, okay?  But I had to.  We had company on Tuesday, and then company today on Easter Sunday, and I just couldn't do it anymore.  I had to organize the yarn space and make sure our new vacation pictures were out and sweep the carpet and the kitchen floor and... 


Yeah.  I did.  I succumbed to the notion that I AM the woman, and housecleaning WAS my venue, and I made my house a home.  I'm not proud.  It was a (really) dirty job, but somebody had to do it.  


Everybody inside, because it was a little too
 bright.  Note dusted shelf.  I know, you can't
see it, but it's there.And since I was also shopping and organizing Easter and dealing with kids who had to dye eggs and bake cupcakes and seemed to think that vacation was a good time for cuddles?  


Well, yeah.  It's been a while since my last blog.  I'm sorry.  But don't worry-- it's not going to happen again for a LONG, LONG time.  Swear.  


Squish, looking radiant with the sun in her
amazing hair. Has already found all eggs.
My ginormous son and his precious
sister. And that brings us to today--which was really sort of nice.  I know, I know-- Easter, it should be, right?  But Easter is a production for four kids-- five if you count the fact that Chicken's friend, Stivie stayed over last night, because her mom was working and her family was all busy elsewhere.  Stivie got a basket too, and my kids got new clothes and stuffed animals.  (Zoomboy got a prosimian, which is a lemur-- he was so proud, he used that word until I had it memorized!)  And then, to make things even more hectic, I had planned an Easter dinner, (which I am quite obviously NOT cooking at this moment) and my friend, Wendy, who was coming over with Chris, her very adorable young suitor (and yes-- we call her a cougar, why do you ask?) had to change her plans and asked if she could come over in the morning instead.  ZOMG.  Suddenly, instead of dinner, which I can sort of do only because I've practiced, I was cooking BRUNCH!  I managed--and it wasn't bad.  My favorite discovery was that if you roll up purchased almond paste in whomp-biscuit croissants and then cook them, you have... mmmfmmmppfmmm... yeah.  Nom.  Nom nom nom nom nom... FAT!  But it's still nom!


Anyway, so we had Easter brunch, and now everyone's chilling, eating potato chips which I'd planned to have before dinner, but I'm cooking ham and green beans and mashed potatoes tomorrow, so they can have them now.  And there were baskets (and for once I went LOW KEY on the gifts, if not on the candy for the five bajillion Easter eggs) and there were Easter clothes and there was happiness.


Mate and I, doing ritual fist bump
for managing to be grownups
for one more holiday.  Go us! And then, my favorite part of the day--especially considering that we'd gone to bed at 2:30 a.m. and woke up at 7 a.m.  Yup.  You guessed it.  Naps.  There were NAPS.  Me and Mate, together as the gods intended, FAST A-FRICKIN'-ASLEEP.  


Now THAT'S what I call a holiday.  

Squish at Six

So, uhm, putting together a child's birthday party.  Not always easy.

In this case, there were a couple of steps.  Step A, the requested visit to build-a-bear.  Mission accomplished.  Build-a-bear did us a solid this year, and produced a giant purple Hello Kitty with flowered feet... it's like they had a direct line to her sparkly little dreams.  Zoomboy's bear choice was a fuzzy camouflaged bear that he has called General Stuffing.  (Chicken has been reading Catch 22--this choice appealed to her!)  Squish's was the purple Hello Kitty that she calls "Cat."  Chicken's choice (yes-- at 17, she gets a bear too!) was a giant Kermit the Frog in a tuxedo to replace the one she had until the fourth grade, when it fell completely apart and mom quietly threw it out and told her that we didn't know where it was.  (It was made of felt, so when it fell apart, it was sort of beyond repair.)

So that was Sunday.  Monday was all about the shopping.  I worked out, went shopping for the rest of her present as well as Easter shopping (oh, the frickin' pain.  Can I NOT walk into a store and come out with 500 lbs. of chocolate?  For serious?  It's insane!) and then came home and got the kids and took them to pick out Squishy's cake as well as groceries.  For the record?  I manage these days to NEVER go grocery shopping with the kids in tow.  Now I remember why.  Ye frickin' gods.  I came home with several boxes of cake mix, and since A. I don't like cake and B. I DON'T COOK, I think there's something very wrong here.

That was Monday-- yes, it was almost a complete loss writing-wise, why do you ask?

And then there was yesterday, her ACTUAL BIRTHDAY.  For starters, Big T had to get his wisdom teeth pulled--and, for a bonus, the dentist remembered that *I* was supposed to get a tooth filled so they did us both at the same time.  The only difference was, T got to get completely stoned when we were done, and I got to drive home (stopping off at his office at Cutco, because wandering around Rocklin is FUN! I tell you, FUN!) without the side bennie of drugs!

But I got home, and there was that vision, that lovely girl in the pink and the peach, who had not been awake when I left, telling me that it was HER BIRTHDAY--and the house (which was a disaster) and the six-thousand things I had to do (which I barely got done with a lot of help) fell away.  Look at her  She's six.

God, I she's ALWAYS going to seem six to me, isn't she?

Anyway, the house got clean--Michelle, if you're out there, I've posted a bad picture of the (mostly) excavated kitchen table, just for you.  The good news is, we're having my Crazy Friend Wendy and her Young Stud, Chris over for dinner on Easter Sunday, so we have less to do toward the house in that way, and that's always a plus.  (I'm going to be COOKING for that.  Oh Holy Crap.  Cooking.  Fuck.)

Zoomboy and my dad with the gray hair and glasses. I don't
know who the guy with the hat is.  Just lucky to be famous,
I guess. Mate, who is happy and proud, because the seats were so
damned awesome, and because he made this happen.And the rest of the night?  Was the King's game, followed up by cake and ice cream at that kitchen table.  For the King's game, Mate got us special tickets, so close to the game, I could almost see Xan and Chris (alas, they were not there to be seen, but I spent a long time fantasizing that they were.)  Big T did not accompany us, although he did have a ticket--his face was swollen, and, quite frankly, he was way too stoned to take out in public, but everyone else was there.  My dad and stepmom, Wendy and Chris, Zoomboy, Chicken, Mate and I, and, of course, Squish.




Squish.  Who got over her disappointment that these
weren't her usual seats and enjoyed the wiener-dog races
like usual.  Note the purple King's T-shirt added under the
pink and peach colored dress.  She had matching tights,
which she wore with black tennis shoes with rainbow
laces.  She's a fashion plate! The team lost--but not by much--and the game was close.  My parents were happy to be there, and my mom?  I hadn't realized this, but in spite of MULTIPLE invitations from Mate, my step-mom had NEVER been to a game.  She enjoyed herself immensely.  (I'm sorry I didn't get a picture of her. She's pretty damned stunning, and she and my dad are still a handsome couple:0)

Chicken enjoyed herself (she's not pictured either--she was sitting directly behind me!) and as a whole?  When we came back to the house for presents and ice cream?  There were a lot of happy people on our hands.


Here's hoping that Squish was the happiest one of all.  She got her build-a-bear, her pizza, her King's game, and her family.  Mostly, she got to be the princess, and she got to be six.  She is still my dessert baby, still my surprise hug in the morning, still my squishiest, softest, snuggliest child.  Yesterday, after we got home from the dentist, and before we kicked ass on the house, Zoomboy asked me to sit down for cuddles (he insists I owe him for that week in New York!) and Squish got in on the action and slept on me for an hour, like she did when she was a baby.

She's still my baby.  She'll always be my baby.  She's my Squish.

When I was one I had just begun.
When I was two, I was nearly new.
When I was three, I was hardly me.
When I was four, I was not much more.
When I was five I was just alive.
But now we are six, we're as clever as clever
I think we'll be six forever and ever. 


A.A. Milne

No Pictures-- trust me, you'll thank me later.

Okay, before I totally disgust anyone reading with this totally gross and yet oddly hilarious story that I've debated whether or not to post, I'm going to put out some promo, because that's the way good business people do things.  First, they sell their product.  THEN they gross you out.

So first things first.

Diesel Books wants me to tell you (and I'm really proud of this actually) that Super Sock Man is going to be their featured book on April 3rd-- that means that 11 a.m., EASTERN Standard Time, the book is going to go on sale for $.80 a copy.  So, the first ten people who hit this link (and the link doesn't go live until THAT TIME, April 3rd,) Super Sock Man Deal can get the book for really frickin' cheap.  I'm posting this on Facebook and Twitter, so even if you forget you'll probably see me poking people, and I just wanted to let y'all know!

Also...

Country Mouse is available for pre-order at Riptide, and will be fully released on April 23rd.  I'm VERY excited about this one because it's my first attempt at co-writing.  What's really funny is that although Aleks and I had a blast writing this and maintained a spirit of fun throughout, the general consensus is that this brainchild could be along the lines of Horton the Elephant's elephant-bird.  People see my name and Aleksandr's name in the same space and their brains explode.  It's weird, because, seriously, y'all-- this was FUN!  It was enjoying characters and playing with them and letting them play (in all lasciviousness) with each other.  But then, I think for both of us, this is one of the lighter things that can be found in our rosters, so maybe that was it.  We started out with no preconceptions of one another, and we simply wrote for pure joy.  No angst, really, nothing to prove--just word and character play with another writer.  I've enjoyed the hell out of it, and working with Rachel at Riptide Books has been a lot of fun as well.  (Aleks is part of Riptide Books, so it was only natural this story would go there for publication.)  So don't get this one for the heavy drama-- get it for some good, hawt fun!

And now for the disgusting story.  I'm SERIOUSLY WARNING PEOPLE-- if you have a weak stomach, bail on the blog now.  Take the links and the news and leave while you still have some respect for my ability to draw a line, wouldjapleeze, and thankya!

Okay-- so here goes.

Last night, Zoomboy went to the King's game with his father, and had a lot of fun.  He also ate some bad bad popcorn.  So Mate is reading in bed and I'm out at the computer, all showered and ready for bed, when I hear... yeah.  The sound of someone's stomach being emptied in an all-fired hurry.  So I ZOOM back to the bathroom and on my way I pass Mate who is ZOOMING the holy-hellfire-fuck AWAY from the bathroom, because, as we've already discussed, he doesn't DO vomit.

What I don't realize is that Zoomboy didn't make it to the bathroom, so when I cleared the hall rug and hit the hardwood floor, my foot skidded on the, uhm, used popcorn and I went DOWN in the puddle, and I went down HARD.

I was lying there, feeling the, uhm, moisture soaking through my nightgown and counting my owies (scraped foot, bonked head and giant bruise on my right hind yab) and Mate calls back, "Amy, are you all right?"  Because he's not coming back to help if he doesn't have to, right?  Chicken--who watched me go down from her bedroom--says, "Mom, are you all right?"

"I think so," I say, and that's when Zoomboy came out of the bathroom to check on me too.

And threw up all over me, because being coated on one side was apparently not enough.
And that's when Chicken started to laugh so hard she couldn't breathe.

Eventually I got up, cleaned up, wiped everything down, got ZB in the bathtub and showered until the water was cold.  Mate huddled in the living room apologizing every two minutes (and he hollered it down the hall too, which was also funny) and in the morning?

Yeah, my yab ached like a sucking funofabitch.

To add insult to injury, the kids were up at six-thirty this morning.  They wanted to play an April Fool's joke on their big brother.  We told them to knock on his door and tell him he was late for school.  So they sat in the middle of our bed and screamed at him to wake up because he was late for school until we kicked them out of our room and told them to go watch cartoons and eat pop-tarts.

But not popcorn.  No one in this family is going to be eating popcorn for a VERY. LONG. TIME.

More Crappy Pictures From Another AMAZING Time!

This is just to prove I was in New YorkEssentially, this trip to New York has boiled down to three major parts--

A. The meet up in the La Guardia Marriott with all of the AWESOME Dreamspinner authors for a day of workshops.

B. The Rainbow Book Fair on Saturday which was a huge event in a little teeny space.

C. The afterwards, where I got to play in the city with some friends:-)

Now, I probably should have blogged about all of this from the outset--because it would have been fresher in my mind, and because names-- swear to GODDESS I suck at names, and not in the good way, either.  But I met some awesome people this time round, and maybe if I try to list them all now I'll remember more and more as I write the rest of the post:


This is Chris, who will be my lunch buddy  from now on. This is Damon Suede who made me drink RWA Kool-Aid.Damon Suede (who is terrifyingly charismatic), Chris Koehler (whom I already knew but now we're going to do lunch once a month and that's awesome!), Eden Winters (who is both sweet, fun, and has the most charming accent!), Carole Cummings (whom I adore!), J.P. Barnaby (who is wonderful!), Rowan Speedwell (both sweet and shy:-),  Paul Richmond (who did the cover for the Promises books and who is both way younger and way prettier than I am!), Anne Cain (who did the covers for the Green's Hill novellas to name a few, and is also way younger and way prettier and way hipper than I am!), Catt Ford, (who did the cover for Alpha and Fur-Bearing Critters and is way prettier than I am!), Nessa Warrin (who was a sport for being as sick as she was, and who listened to my stories with good grace), B.G. Thomas (who was both funny and salacious), Mike Murphy (who was another good sport about being bored silly at the dinner table), Jamie Fessenden (who jumped in and told some great stories of his own, thus saving me from further embarrassment), Zahra Owens (who brought Godiva chocolates until we HAD to worship her!),   Piper Vaughn (charming and warm), Taylor Donovan (charming and boisterous), Karen Klein (as adorable as a kitten), Ellis Carrington (sweet, cute, and serendipitous), and the usual suspects whom I live to see again-- Ariel, Nicki, Elizabeth, Lynn, Connie, Julianne, Andrew, and, of course, my Mary, mine, whom I will not give to anyone else because I am a selfish bitch that way.

There are probably people I forgot--and I'm so sorry--but, as you can probably tell, that first part?  Yeah.  That was something of a blur.

This is the inside of the Rainbow Book Fair.  It's insanely crowded.The Rainbow Book fair was crazy busy-- insanely crazy busy.  The vendors were in a teeny-tiny space, and DSP brought it's own crowd of authors.  It was loud, it was hot, it was horrifically crowded--but it was worth it.  I know we don't think about this a lot, because, well, if we're reading this we're on computers, but for a lot of the men coming by to buy books (and because it was the Rainbow Book Fair, many of our customers were men) did not own a computer.  If they wanted a book with a happy ending- a ROMANCE book-- they were going to get it from this venue, because a whole lot of the GLBT book stores had closed.  It was worth it, and amazing to be there.

Rockefeller Center at night.My book reading went well-- but I don't remember a whole lot.  About the one thing I do remember was asking Andrew (who had just finished his own book reading) if he knew where I was on the schedule.  He looked at the schedule and said, "Honey, you're on NOW!"  I grabbed my copy of Chase and took off running, only to get caught behind an 80 year old man with a wheeled suitcase who was buying his year's supply of books.  After that I vaulted two flights of stairs with Jamie Samms (need to give her a verbal hug because she was lovely, I adored her, and she was made of awesome) and my Mary behind me.  Uhm, my body?  Not so much with the two flights of stairs.  I got to the top and was heaving for breath when I walked into the reading room as quietly as possible.  A guy had gone on ahead of me, but they were very nice about letting me go after him.

My Mary.  Mine.  You can't have her. Lynn.  Who is lovely. And I love her.  This is the view from my hotel room on zoom.And it seemed to go well-- Elisa Rolle put some pictures up on Facebook--I have no idea how to capture them, but I didn't look like a freak of nature, so that's something.  And after that, there's a big blurry mess. I remember Damon, making me promise to sign up for RWA, which I will do when I get home, and Chris, who was snarky and fun, and being table captain which terrified me because I've made a habit of shirking responsibility, and seriously?  BLUR.


From left: Julianne, Connie, me, Elizabeth, Lynn, & ZahraOn Sunday, a few of us said goodbye to our newfound friends-- it was difficult because we'd so enjoyed meeting them--and went into the city to see a play. Alan Rickman... zomg zomg zomg... okay... and not just him-- the writing was OUTSTANDING.  The play was called Seminar, and I want a T-shirt with my favorite line from it.  "Novels. Need. Silence."  I LOVE that.  Anyway, when we were done with the play, we visited Times Square.  Which is really as bright as everybody says it is, even in the middle of the night.  It was aMAZing.
Lynn, working dutifully with the city as her backdrop. The view from the concierge suite at the Marriott.



Monday... well, let's just say that Mary and I talked WAY into Sunday night until it WAS Monday, and then she left when I'd finally fallen asleep and then?  Then I woke up swimming in sweat because it was suddenly 80 degrees in the damned hotel room.  It was only six in the morning NY time and so I called the front desk to have someone fix the damned thermostat.  He had a very high tech solution:  he opened a window.  Sounds simple, right?  Except this was the La Guardia Marriott hotel, so named because it's RIGHT NEXT TO FRICKIN' LA GUARDIA AIRPORT, which means that a plane took off every twenty minutes.  Ask me how I know?

The view of CPW from the Egypt Room at the MetAnyway, I took a car into the city all by my lonesome, and then got to the city to find everyone in the Marriott Marquis on Time Square.  They were working.  And I know it SOUNDS lame, but after taking some pictures of the square from the window because it was FRICKIN' AWESOME, but I sort of enjoyed just sitting down with them and working too.  And then, after lunch?  (The Stage Door)  I took a nap.  Oooooohh... canya just feel the electric sizzle of the city, right?  But it really WAS nice, because I sort of AM a writer, and like Alan Rickman said, "Novels. Need. Silence."  And after all of that frickin' hustle before?  The silence was peaceful.

Have Seen this painting three places! A Tiffany Window at the MetThe next day a couple of us went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art... and I frickin' cried.  Renoir, that bastard--who knew I had such a hard-on for that picture of two girls at the piano?  I mean, I guess I knew I did, because my Aunts had given me a card that featured them at one time and said that the girls reminded them of me, but to see the picture for real?  God.  That and the picture of Toledo, Spain, painted by El Greco, because I'd seen it in a textbook next to The Pit and the Pendulum, and then taught it to my son's 3rd grade class as an Art Docent and THEN seen it for REAL at the Met?  ZOMG.  Truly overwhelmed.

And the Tiffany windows weren't bad either.

Wednesday, it was back on the plane again--and I have to say, that the charm of air travel is no longer quite what it was.  I'm tired of feeling my feet swell and getting mashed against strangers, but I do have to admit that Julianne my traveling companion whom I love made all the difference between a shitty trip and an amazing trip-- we talked and talked and talked, and since we talked all the way THERE that's saying something!

And now home.

A largish housewife in a hotel room in NYCAnd, as I wrestle with blogger (and just decide to leave the crappy pictures where they are because I'm trying to tell them they'd look more attractive somewhere else on the blog) and let the dog in and out and in and out for the umpteenth time and remember how happy the kids were to see me (and how they loved their gifts from NY) and how happy I was to see them and how the damned cat woke me up at five in the mourning in sheer, stinking need (okay, since she sang me an Aria of Mourning the morning I left, I shouldn't be that surprised!) and how VERY happy I was to see Mate, waiting with my baggage at the airport...

I think it was a GREAT trip.  And I think home is NEVER overrated.

Stayin' Alive!

Hey, all!

I'm still alive, my plane didn't crash, the ride from Queens (where our hotel is) to the city (where the book fair is) didn't kill me, Mary my roommate hasn't stuffed a pillow over my face to stop my snoring, my fellow DSPers haven't shoved pie in my face to stop me from telling dreadful jokes, (or talking altogether!) and I seem to have survived a book reading that I was late for, as long as a very quick ascent up two flights of stairs that this body was SO surprised it could make in record time.

*whew*

So, uhm, yeah-- it's been a little busy.

But I wanted to blog--because I can't remember the last time I did it and that's bad!

So far, my pictures are sort of crap-- great memories, crap pictures--which I will probably post later anyway for effect.  The Rainbow Book Fair in New York was a LOT of fun-- it was a CRUSH--massive quantities of people in a tiny, tiny room, but I got to meet all sorts of folks I know from on line, and I think I made a few friends as well.  That's always amazing to me--the people you know online are TRULY your friends.  Julie, Roxie, Donna, Saren?  It's real.  I adore you.  I WILL MEET YOU if it kills me.  Things like this always make me melancholy that I haven't yet.

And yeah--I haven't seen my kids or my Mate in five days--missing them a little...lot...huge, massive quantities that I can't really express in print!

But the "let's go into the city and play" part of my day starts today--and that will get us more pictures and maybe, a little bit of breathing room--but so far?  The trip's been frickin' awesome!

Super Sock Man takes Metropolis, Metrocity, and Gotham

Okay-- Two Things. The first is that Super Sock Man is out tomorrow!

Yay!  The expanded take on the adventures of Donnie, the super-precocious young adult and Alejandro, his sister's roommate will be hitting the e-book shelves tomorrow There is a contest at Chris's that I should have posted earlier! Sorry, Chris! For a copy of it, (you've got like, hours, to enter the contest, and I want to smack my head on the wall for forgetting!  I guess the last blog post says it all-- last week literally removed my head.)

So, the fun thing about this one is that yes, I designed the socks.  For those of you with a particularly discerning eye, check out the sock on the left--see the fish features in it?  Uhm, yeah... for those of you who write patterns?  WASN'T EASY!  Anyway, the socks are a little slouchy around the ankle, but they tighten up at the tail-cable to hopefully keep the socks from sliding irritatingly down your feet.  Here's hoping.  Oh-- and the STORY!  Well, in short story form it was sort of sweet and hot.  The novella is, well, just as sweet and a whole lot hotter.  I don't often just sort of sensually indulge when I'm writing, but Donnie and Alejandro's story was really very simple.  It almost felt like I didn't have a choice--the good stuff was the best stuff!  This is also a prequel of sorts to Chase in Shadow-- you will meet Chase and see Chase's first encounter, and yes, for those of you love Chase, he's a real douche-fucker in this one, but, if you love Chase, you also know he'll redeem himself AND break your heart by the end.  (For those of you wondering how that happened, I wrote the novella first and it inspired the novel--it was sort of a fluke that the novella ended up coming out after the novel.)  

So, well, there's that.

Anyway, the other thing is that I have today is the whole, yanno, "I'm leaving tomorrow!" thing.  6:10 a.m.--DUDES!  I'm still packing.  We weighed my suitcase last night and consigned 5 lbs of shit to my carry on, and I'm thinking, "I'm gonna want the frickin' carry on on wheels and not the one that's going over my shoulder, because THAT would frickin' SUCK!"  Besides.  My yarn is going into my carry on.  And no amount of long, hard talks with myself about how all I'll need is my sock bag have managed to convince me to go with anything less than three bags of yarn.  I don't understand it, but it's the truth.  *headdesk*  Well, I'm going with a fully charged iPod and a Kindle and some paper books, too, because I have a low tolerance for boredom, and the two plane trips are already freaking me out with their potential for length and sublime discomfort.  And then imma be in New York!  My mind boggles.  BOGGLES. Okay--have to admit, I know less about New York than I probably should to be this boggled.  I'm seriously jonesing for a bus tour.  I wanna be a tourist.  You remember, Men in Black?  Will Smith drops down onto the open air double decker bus and goes, "Yeah, I know, it just be rainin' black people in New York!"  I WANNA BE ONE OF THOSE TOURISTS!  I mean, we have plenty of people of all colors in California, and I wouldn't mind if Will Smith dropped in my lap in ANY state (naked, intoxicated, Wisconsin...)  but mostly, I want to be in a bus, having someone telling me, "This, this is where my cousin Vinnie got busted, and here, this is where the mob hit went down, and right here?  This is Greenwich village, we can't go any faster here, we might hit an artist!"

I mean yesterday?  At aqua?  (Dude... not nearly as fun as band camp!)  I was sitting in the jacuzzi because it was too frickin' cold to run to my towel from the pool without a stop to warm myself up first, and telling this nice woman where I was going.  I've gotten really good at not apologizing or simpering back when I tell people what I write anymore.  "Oh, you're an author.  What do you write?"  "Gay romance.  Yes, yes, you heard that right!"   Anyway, I was fully expecting the usual swallow and double take with this woman, but no.  What I got instead was, "And you're going to the Rainbow Book Fair in New York?  You might meet my son!  He just finished an interview with Dan Savage.  He's one of the people who lobbies for worldwide health education at the UN."

I was totally impressed--and this guy sounds WAY above my social circle, but still.  If I do meet him, it would be awfully fun to start a conversation with, "Hi, Mr. Ramirez, you know, I was hot-tubbing with your mom..."

But as excited as I get, I'm also getting sort of weepy.  The kids are giving me trinkets to take with me so I don't forget them.  Really?  Because after some solid years of motherhood, I'm going to forget these faces in a little more than a week?  Seriously doubt it.  But that doesn't mean I won't miss them either, as I venture into the bowls (*snicker*) of Metrocity-- Mate has set up a FaceTime  interaction, so I can chat with them, which is nice.  I'll probably do a lot of singing over the computer, and some irritated chatting with Chicken and some clueless chatting with T and some wistful chatting with Mate, because no place is as good if he's not there.

But still-- I'm going to Gotham and I'm going to have fun and I'm going to come back with stories and I will, of course, come back and tell you!  I'm going to Gotham--may Batman save us all!

Calling all headless chickens...

Okay--my week wasn't as shitty as Batman's, but still!Bullet post today... cause I can't think in a straight line...

*  I leave for New York on Wednesday.  Does that not blow your mind?

*  Big T got a job.  Selling knives.  Guess who taxis him back and forth to his training?

*  Short people have had minimum days.  Guess who goes to pick them up and then turns around and picks up Chicken two and a half hours later?

* Went and bought a purse yesterday.  A real one.  At J.C. Penny's.  Brought Sam's mom, brought Sam and his little brother, brought my kids... none of them had been in a department store short of Christmas.  They thought it was the circus.  Sam's mom and I thought it was a little nuts.  The funniest part was when she said, "You're so good at making such quick decisions!"  I was watching the kids run around in circles and going "I have a choice?"

* On top of that, there is yet more lawyer stuff of which to not speak.  *headdesk* I'm starting to think of this whole thing in Dean Winchester terms.  From now on, I'll refer to it as "Starship" because it's awful, and it never goes away.

*  It's been raining--so all the driving is in the rain.  There is no walking or swimming in the rain.  I was plenty fat before.  Now I feel it.

*  I bought new clothes.  Don't make me less fat.

*  Country Mouse went live!  Some of you might remember that this is the story I co-wrote with the lovely and professional and highly talented Aleksandr Voinov.  It was a trip-- we would write at the same time from half-way around the planet--the cursor would move without my help, words would come out, and then I'd take over.  Weird.  But cool.  And I love the story-- Owen and Malcolm are fun guys-- watch them take on London--and each other!

*  My crazy friend Wendy came over to dye my hair better.  Yes, I could have paid someone to do it--but then I couldn't have talked my friend into coming over to visit.  It was fun.  My hair still looks like a rabid squirrel attacking my head--but now it's pomegranate red!

*  Teacher's conference this week (because they had to be.  That's just my life!)  Squish has improved dramatically-- because she can't help but be dramatic.  We're proud--but not surprised.  We were pretty sure once she found a way to succeed and be the bestest, she would implement her plan to be the bestest.  Her teacher even forgave us for flunking homework!  (A Kindergartner in a full time Kindergarten?  DOES NO HOMEWORK.  And THAT is the frickin' rule!)

*  Zoomboy brought home a stellar report card.

*  The principal at this school used to be Chicken's 5th grade teacher.  Apparently, we are THAT family. The family with smart kids.  I know this because Squish's teacher TOLD me we were THAT family.  I wonder if they look at me--hair like rabid squirrel, no make-up, the size of a Wal-Mart--and wonder where my children came from.

*  House is a pit.  Are we surprised?

*  Have started Dex and Kane's story--and am pleased, because even though it's still set at Johnnies, and there is sad, it's still much happier than Chase's story, and I LOVE Kane.  Kane isn't that bright--in fact, he's happy to be controlled by his dumb stick--but he's got a soft, squishy heart.

*  If you were working on a project for a friend, and then she doesn't need them rushed anymore, but you lost half of your pair of the same thing... is it bad if you keep the first pair and give her the second?  If you follow that, give me a holler... I'm trying to figure it out!

*  Yummy hot guys were on tonight.  Yes, I still love that show.  We're not called fanatics for naught.

*  And that's all.  I'm signing off.  *whew*  Have I mentioned it's been a week?