Jennifer Wilck's Blog, page 63

Who I Am

I am me, but sometimes I want to be like you. I don’t do things just because others do. I don’t listen to “They.” I’m not sure I know who “They” are. I learned I’ll never look, act or be popular, so I’ve given up trying and learned to be comfortable in my own skin. Except when I’m not. Sometimes I want to be like who I am in my head. In my head, I live in “Jennifer-world” and it’s awesome.

I slide under the radar, unless I want to stand out. I only reveal the things I want you to know and I never reveal all of myself. I am fully aware of when people are taking advantage of me; I determine how much of it I’ll stand. If you’re smart, you’ll stop before I reach my breaking point. The sweeter I get, the faster you should run.

I am a mom, a wife, a daughter, a Jew, a Jersey girl, a writer, a friend. Don’t ask me to be a representative of any of your groups, I will only disappoint you. I am loyal to a fault and will stand up for those I love. Or even like. I believe in honor, grace and dignity. I have little tolerance for stupidity and I lack patience. I try to do the right thing.

I have forgiven, but never forgotten. I am thankful for those who have hurt me, because they have made me stronger than I’ve ever thought possible. I am rarely as “fine” as I say I am, but sometimes, I’m wonderful. I am in awe of possibilities.

I am a word warrior. I love the sound of the letters, the turn of a phrase, creative analogies, a well-placed snarky comment. I know that words hurt and sometimes, I’m not as careful as I should be. I like listening better than talking, although I can make conversation with anyone if I have to. I think better with my fingers typing on my keyboard. I have a response for most things. And in my head, I always win the argument, battle and war.

There is more to me than you’ll ever fully know. Get to know me, but never make the mistake of assuming you know everything about me.

Goal, Motivation, Conflict

There are many rules that writers are instructed to follow. Some are important, such as grammar; others are less so, such as sticking to a certain character’s point of view. Many rules depend on the genre you’re writing—romance writers have rules to follow that mystery writers or fiction writers might not have, and vice versa.

Despite the fact that in my personal life I am a huge rule follower (I think it has to do with the Only Child Syndrome—if something goes wrong there’s no one else to blame), in my writing, I look at rules a little differently. I’m more likely to stretch them, or consider that some of the rules are subjective, rather than objective. There is one rule, however, that I do try to follow, and that’s GMC: Goal, Motivation, Conflict. Simply put, your characters have to have clearly defined goals (what they want), motivation (why they want it) and conflict (what prevents them from getting what they want). GMC makes a story interesting.

This morning, as I was waiting for Banana Girl to get ready for school, I started thinking about GMC and realized that it also applies to real life and in fact, is something I should think about more often, especially when it comes to my children. See, this was not one of our better mornings. The weekend was busy and involved a lot of jam-packed days and late nights. Add in the fact that I’m not a morning person and well, we were kind of the opposite of a well-oiled machine. The Cleaver family, we were not.

Now, the exact nature of our issues this morning is unimportant. What is important is that we have these issues often enough that I should know better. I should know better than to fall into the same darned trap every few days. It’s like those stupid shows on TV—you hear the spooky music, the lights are out, the woman is by herself, she hears a noise and SHE RUNS TOWARD THE NOISE. Has she never seen a movie or TV show in her life? Does she not know better? Of course she does. But she does it anyway and ends up dead. Apparently, in the mornings, I’m no better than she is. Wonderful.

So, as I was laying in bed, watching the ceiling fan spin and taking deep breaths in order to try to get us out of the mess and ready for school, GMC popped into my head. Don’t know why, and frankly, sometimes it’s better not to question what goes on in my head. Trust me. But it did pop into my head and I realized that it’s a very useful tool for mornings in my house. In fact, if I paid more attention to it, I think we’d have calmer starts to our days. Here it is:

The Goal is to get my kids to school, and preferably as cheerfully as possible, although that may be impossible. They need to go on their own, make the bus on time and have all their things with them. They need to be dressed. The Motivation is because for the next several years, school is their job. They have to go. They need an education in order to be a productive member of society. Their mother also needs them to go to school so that she can get a little peace and perhaps get her own work done. The Conflict is anything that prevents them from leaving the house—tears, wrong clothes, too many of them in the bathroom at one time, moving too slowly, forgetting something, etc.

In a book, there is no story without Conflict. Conflict is what makes a story interesting. No one wants to read a story where nothing happens (Seinfeld excluded). However, in my house, boring is good. Boring is what we strive for, especially in the mornings. Boring means that everyone does what they’re supposed to do, when they’re supposed to do it. Boring means we make it to the bus on time.

So, while I attack my current manuscript with three different colored highlighters to make sure each scene and the overarching story has GMC, I plan to remove all conflict from my family’s morning routine, even if it means biting my tongue and keeping my mouth shut. Boring is good!

The Mom Rant

Salutatory Caveat: The “Moms” to whom this letter is addressed are two separate strangers who happened to be shopping in the same stores at the same time as I was yesterday. Chances are, they’re not my readers (they probably wouldn’t recognize themselves in this anyway). You don’t have to be a mom to read this post—any human will do. And this is also not addressed to either of MY Moms—I don’t rant about them in public (they know where the bodies are buried) and that’s what the Swiss Bank Accounts of Writing are for! [image error]

Dear Moms,

I realize my daughter looks a little “different” these days, but please stop staring at her. You’re curious, I know. I even understand that curiosity. But there’s a difference between a quick glance or frown and flat out staring. You’re no longer seven years old; you should know better. Your daughter standing next to you does. She at least had the grace to look away when I turned around. You didn’t. Great role modeling.

I know, in that constant desire to look young, it’s easy to lose sight of the fact that you’re not young anymore, no matter how often you try to dress like your child. But looking young and acting young are two different things, especially when it comes to manners. Manners, grace and dignity never go out of style.

Check-out lines are boring; I get that. But there are other ways to entertain yourself. For one, you could try talking to your daughter. As the mother of a 13 year old, I know that unless they’re making sure you’re planning to pay for something, or asking for something else, they’re not the most talkative creatures on the planet. But start a conversation anyway. You never know, she just might start talking to you.

You know that smart phone you’re constantly buried in, to the exclusion of all else? The check-out line is the perfect time to use it (especially when we’re standing in front of you and your only other option is to stare). Read your emails, find coupons, play Angry Birds. Anything!

It can be really difficult in some stores to find something appropriate to look at – I know, I was in Victoria’s Secret with you and had the same problem. But my daughter is no substitute. Use the opportunity to distract yourself with something productive, like how to fix a problem you or someone else might be having; come up with the next great idea and figure out how to implement it; draft a memo or article in your head. I’m big on distractions these days and trust me; boring stretches of time with nothing else to do are the perfect opportunity to come up with something.

When you do get caught, at least have the grace to look embarrassed. This would be the perfect time to learn how to blush. Since you’re so busy emulating your own daughter, take a page from her book and do what she does. Look away!

Sincerely,

Me (who is saving all her understanding for her family and has none left over for stupid people)

Bippity Boppity Boo

I’m starting to feel like the cartoon character, Joe Btfsplk, from Lil’ Abner. He was the character that was followed by his very own personal raincloud wherever he went. Lucky him. I’ll admit to having to look up who he was, since I’ve never been a fan/follower of Lil’ Abner. In my head, I was picturing Pig Pen, from the Peanuts, but apparently, he had a dust cloud, rather than a rain cloud. And while my house is definitely dirtier than normal due to a lack of time, I don’t think I’ve reached the point of having my own dust cloud. Ew.

Seriously, my life has become ridiculous. First it was planning for a Bat Mitzvah 24/7 and dealing with everything related to that, while at the same time trying to prevent the daughter from thinking that the world would continue to revolve around her afterwards. The wonderful, but stressful, milestone was followed immediately by same daughter’s broken thumb, requiring doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments and multiple conversations with the school in order to make adjustments to her schedule and workload (because, of course, it was her writing thumb). So much for my conversation about the Earth revolving around the Sun. Just as that is easing up and I thought I’d be able to relax, she had periodontal surgery to help her 12-year-old molars grow in (she’s 13) so that her braces can come off. She looks like a chipmunk, is only eating soft foods and is easing off of pain meds.

My husband has been crazy at work, resulting in his crackberry going off at all hours of the day and night. His stress is ongoing and there’s no end in sight. The younger daughter, who I vowed would never be a middle child, has become the middle child, because everything that’s been going on has been happening to everyone around her and she seems to get shuffled to the side (cue the Mommy Guilt). I’m busier than ever shuttling the daughter around, trying to pick up some of the slack at home while creating my own in the process, proving to the younger daughter she hasn’t been forgotten, adding numerous hats to my head in my “volunteer work” and trying to finish my current manuscript so I can submit it for possible publication. Forget about marketing my current books. That has slipped by the wayside, until I start to feel bad and do a rash of publicity, hoping it will make up for everything that I let slide.

And this doesn’t even cover other things that are going on that I’ve promised not to blog about here. So, yes, life is busy and I’m a little stressed (I’m also the Queen of Understatement). My parents want to send my husband and me on a weekend away. They’ve promised to watch the kids and the dog. I love the idea. Unfortunately, the thought of planning that weekend—determining where we want to go that’s within driving range of our house, what we want to do that will please both of us, and figuring out when we are both available at the same time (ha!)—only adds to the stress that we’re both feeling. So I actually have to say no. Seriously? Talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth. Oh, and the awesome gift card for a massage that I was given for my birthday to relieve stress—still can’t find the time to get to it (same goes for my shopping trip).

People have asked what I want for Mother’s Day. I want a wife who can take over all the chores my husband and I haven’t had time to do and won’t be getting to in the foreseeable future. I want a chauffeur who can schlep my kids to the various places they need to go so I don’t have to inconvenience anyone who’s currently doing it. I want a fairy godmother who can listen to all my worries without getting stressed or concerned for me and make them magically disappear. And I want to get rid of this stupid raincloud that’s following me around. Because seriously, enough is enough.

*Public apology: If you’re one of the wonderful people who have listened to me (or tried to get me to talk to you), assisted with anything, given me those great gift cards, or married me, I am not in any way complaining about you. It’s not any of you–it’s the damn raincloud! [image error]

Early Bird

When it comes to school, November and April are my least favorite months, because my kids are never there—holidays, vacations and conferences (I think I added up the days of school in November once and it came to something in the single digits) ensure that my daughter is home more than she’s in school. It’s not that I don’t love her; I do. It’s not that I don’t love spending time with her; I do. It’s just that the less time she’s in school, the less she’s learning and the less I can get done in a day. And I have to confess feeling a little pressure now that she’s moving onto middle school in the fall; there’s a certain level of knowledge/performance expected to be reached and, if she’s not in school, she’s not going to reach it. She’s incredibly smart, but she performs better for teachers than she does for me, which is one of the many reasons I don’t home-school her.

I was going to write today about all the reasons why those two months drive me crazy. But then, a funny thing happened. I actually got enough sleep last night, the first time in a very long time. I woke up, packed the kids off to school, said goodbye to the husband and walked the dog really fast (she hates rain and it’s raining today—yay!). Basically, I was done by 8:30. Even futzing around on the computer only sucked up 30 minutes of my time, so I was all ready for my day at least an hour earlier than normal. I decided to try something new and actually get things done early today. And you know what? I found out a few cool things that I thought I’d share:

1. I have once again joined the ranks of the “preschool moms.” You know, the ones who get exactly 104 minutes every morning to themselves while their child is in preschool and therefore have to pack in as much as possible into those minutes. You’ll easily recognize them (and me, during these half days of school conferences) by the look on their faces—one part “ahhhhh, freedom,” one part “get out of my way!” and one part “I’m going to go crazy if I don’t get more time to myself.” And if you see us in the grocery store, we’re the ones who are singing because we’re so darn glad to be listening to any music that isn’t made for four-year-olds.

2. Thanks to stupid drivers, I can actually make friends with people in other cars. I bonded with the guy next to me as we watched the car in front of him and next to me make a left on red. Yes, you read that right, a LEFT on red. I watched her stop and turn. I checked the traffic light three times. I even checked my hands to guarantee that I knew my left from my right (you know, your left hand thumb and forefinger make the L for left, while the right hand doesn’t?). I glanced back at the guy behind the insane driver and he threw his hands up at me in amazement.

3. Apparently, I made some guy’s day by giving him my shopping cart for free, rather than accepting the quarter he wanted to pay me for it. Mah jongg winnings aside, I see no reason to charge someone 25 cents for the use of a cart. Really. And if that makes that man a little happier, glad to help.

4. If I time it just right, I can get to the grocery store when there’s no one there, and get through check out right before the senior bus arrives! I’m not telling you what grocery store, or what time, because there are only so many good deeds I’m willing to do per day. But it’s amazing how fast I can get through the grocery store when I don’t have to break for old people lugging oxygen tanks, or five carts blocking every aisle!

So, maybe there is a benefit to April and November. I get things done and discover all kinds of neat things along the way. Although I still would like my kids to spend the days in school. Please.

Springtime

A while ago, when I promoting my first book, I participated in a number of blog tours, where I was a guest on someone else’s blog and was exposed to their readers. Sometimes I wrote about a topic of my choosing, and sometimes I was interviewed. One of the questions that I was asked in several different interviews was about my writing space.

I don’t have a particular writing space. Sure, we have a home office. But even though I’m the one who’s home the most and therefore, would use it the most, it’s my husband’s. It’s the one room of the house that he’s designated as his. It’s decorated his way, which means a combination of Phillies items and Star Wars (with some antique maps thrown in to make it look like a grown-up’s space). It gets cleaned up when he wants it to be and it’s organized his way. I have my space carved out of it where I’m able to leave my things and I can use the desk anytime I want, but it’s not my office.

I tend to write in the dining room or family room. Even though they’re in the center of the house and where all the activity takes place, I find I’m most often there. If I think of something, I can easily stop what I’m doing, write it down, and continue with whatever else is occupying me. During the day, when no one is home, I can spread out and move from room to room as I please. I could sit in the office, but I prefer the light and comfort of the other rooms.

But today, my writing space is outside. This is new for me. Despite my having a laptop, I tend to stick to places that I’m used to and frankly, I’m not much of an outdoor kind of person. I’m cold most of the time and like the warmth of my house. Conversely, when it’s warm out, I like my air-conditioned house (if you think this is complicated, you should pity my husband—he’s the one who has to live with me!). I don’t like to sweat and I hate the glare on my monitor (I just lost my mouse, proving my point).

But today is the first day that it’s more than 80 degrees and it’s only April. It’s sunny and warm and the birds are louder than my kids, which is quite a feat, believe me. Since they’re not yelling “Mom!” or yelling at each other (from what I can tell, anyway) and they don’t roll their eyes at me when I move around or talk to myself, they’re a lot less disruptive and I can block out the noise if I want. I’m wearing new spring clothes and like the season, I feel rejuvenated. I want to be outside taking advantage of this weather. So for today, or at least this moment, my writing space is my deck.

And while I’m on the subject of rejuvenation, I tend to make lists of things I want to do, similar to resolutions, when the seasons change. I’m not a big fan of doing it in January—too many people do it and no one expects you to keep them, so it seems like a waste of time to me. I do it every Jewish New Year, because, well, I’m told to do it and there’s still that little bit of fear in me that is afraid of not doing it. And those resolutions tend to be big, life-altering ones But the seasonal ones are fun, easy, no-pressure kind of plans. Like walking the dog more or trying to cook more exciting meals (when I figure out how to do that without causing kid tantrums, I’ll let you know).

Or, you know, taking advantage of the nice weather and writing outside! Made it through today…let’s see how long this lasts! Happy springtime everyone!

That’s My Chair!

[image error]I spent a lot of time this weekend around a dinner table due to the holidays. And it made me think, as I often do when participating in dinner rituals, about the dynamics of table seating—who sits where and why.

When there is a formal occasion that requires place cards, people spend hours figuring out who should or should not sit with whom. They create tables for kids who are old enough to sit by themselves; tables for families with young kids; tables for relatives; tables for friends; tables for orphans (you know, the people NO ONE wants to sit with). Usually, when you attend one of these events, you can look around at your tablemates and know why you’re there. For most of my family events, I’m seated at the cousins table, guaranteeing that I’ll have plenty of people to talk to and laugh with. I’ve apparently behaved well enough, and embarrassed few enough people that I’m not relegated to the orphans table. My snarky comments are either dead on or extremely forgettable. My husband will also have fun because he’ll hear stories of us from when we were kids (no, the embarrassment NEVER ends) and he’ll have enough experience with the cousins to participate in the storytelling.

At his family events, we usually sit with our immediate family—parents, siblings, etc. Occasionally there are some random people thrown in, but the mixture usually works. There’s always someone to talk to and because we know each other so well, it’s comfortable. And there are always enough lawyers at the table to ensure the legal conversation never lags, the beginning of which is usually my cue to get up and dance.

When we attend events for friends, there’s a core group of us who sit together. We laugh and joke around and have a great time. Everyone is comfortable and the snarky comments fly. Whether we get up to dance or choose to sit at the table the entire time, we leave the event knowing we had fun.

At these types of events, it’s not just who sits at your table that is of concern, but where in the room your table is placed. Are you close to the kitchen? That can be good, if you like to be the first to sample the food, or bad, if you don’t like traffic. Close to the music? There are lots more to talk about if you’re confident no one is going to hear you. [image error] Close to the door—how soon do you want to sneak out? Are you near other similar tables where you can make friends with the surrounding tables, or join in with your friends who aren’t sitting directly next to you?

In my own home, though, as well as in the homes of others, the arrangement around the table never ceases to fascinate me. Who sits closest to the kitchen so that they can help the host/hostess? Who makes sure to sit farthest away, ensuring they can spend the entire time sitting? Who sits closest to the kids—is it the mother, ensuring her kids behave or is it the grandparent, who delights in the proximity of his grandchildren and loves letting them get away with things that make their parents cringe? Some people choose their seats based on the chair; others by the placement. I know I tend to steer my dad and my daughter to the folding chairs, knowing their penchant for spilling (the dog likes to follow them, too).

So the next time you’re at the table, look around and give it some thought. Where do you sit?

That's My Chair!

[image error]I spent a lot of time this weekend around a dinner table due to the holidays. And it made me think, as I often do when participating in dinner rituals, about the dynamics of table seating—who sits where and why.

When there is a formal occasion that requires place cards, people spend hours figuring out who should or should not sit with whom. They create tables for kids who are old enough to sit by themselves; tables for families with young kids; tables for relatives; tables for friends; tables for orphans (you know, the people NO ONE wants to sit with). Usually, when you attend one of these events, you can look around at your tablemates and know why you're there. For most of my family events, I'm seated at the cousins table, guaranteeing that I'll have plenty of people to talk to and laugh with. I've apparently behaved well enough, and embarrassed few enough people that I'm not relegated to the orphans table. My snarky comments are either dead on or extremely forgettable. My husband will also have fun because he'll hear stories of us from when we were kids (no, the embarrassment NEVER ends) and he'll have enough experience with the cousins to participate in the storytelling.

At his family events, we usually sit with our immediate family—parents, siblings, etc. Occasionally there are some random people thrown in, but the mixture usually works. There's always someone to talk to and because we know each other so well, it's comfortable. And there are always enough lawyers at the table to ensure the legal conversation never lags, the beginning of which is usually my cue to get up and dance.

When we attend events for friends, there's a core group of us who sit together. We laugh and joke around and have a great time. Everyone is comfortable and the snarky comments fly. Whether we get up to dance or choose to sit at the table the entire time, we leave the event knowing we had fun.

At these types of events, it's not just who sits at your table that is of concern, but where in the room your table is placed. Are you close to the kitchen? That can be good, if you like to be the first to sample the food, or bad, if you don't like traffic. Close to the music? There are lots more to talk about if you're confident no one is going to hear you. [image error] Close to the door—how soon do you want to sneak out? Are you near other similar tables where you can make friends with the surrounding tables, or join in with your friends who aren't sitting directly next to you?

In my own home, though, as well as in the homes of others, the arrangement around the table never ceases to fascinate me. Who sits closest to the kitchen so that they can help the host/hostess? Who makes sure to sit farthest away, ensuring they can spend the entire time sitting? Who sits closest to the kids—is it the mother, ensuring her kids behave or is it the grandparent, who delights in the proximity of his grandchildren and loves letting them get away with things that make their parents cringe? Some people choose their seats based on the chair; others by the placement. I know I tend to steer my dad and my daughter to the folding chairs, knowing their penchant for spilling (the dog likes to follow them, too).

So the next time you're at the table, look around and give it some thought. Where do you sit?

A First For Everything

Yesterday I attended a program at my temple and listened to the first female Rabbi in the Reform movement speak. She was ordained forty years ago. I went to the program because I'm intrigued by "firsts"—the first day of school, the first mark in the newly swept sand on the beach, the first scoop out of the peanut butter jar, the first star in the night sky. There's something about witnessing the end of the space before that "first." I'm not sure exactly how to explain it. I guess to me it's similar to when something important happens and I look at the event and say, "Wow, yesterday, I had no idea that life would change in this way." Looking at the "firsts" gives me a glimpse of the before and after.

Sometimes that "first" is no big deal. While the first day of school is exciting, it will happen again each year. Being the first to scoop out the peanut butter jar is satisfying, but meaningless. Other times, that "first" shouldn't be a big deal, but is, like the first African American President, or the first female Rabbi. How nice would it be to know that people are treated equally and we don't have to recognize a "first" based on gender or race or religion?

With all that in mind, I attended the program, expecting to marvel at this "first" for women. I guess I wanted the opportunity to gaze into the fishbowl, to find out what makes her tick, to witness a part of history. And I got that. She was interesting, funny and intelligent. I'm glad she was the first, because she's a great example that others can learn from, a terrific role model for our children. But if I have to be honest, I almost found the other attendees even more interesting.

As I looked around the room at the fifty-or-so people seated in the room, I was fascinated to see that there were many men in attendance. They weren't there because their wives forced them to go; they were engaged and asked questions afterward. I wonder if she took notice of this, and if it has any meaning to her? She had mentioned that male Rabbis and students often sought her out because of the publicity value at the time. Yesterday, the only benefit anyone in that room received, male or female, was knowledge. I think if I were the first woman speaking to a room full of people and men were there listening to me, I'd take it as a sign of progress.

I was most interested, though, to see the variety of generations present in the room, and how differently those generations reacted to her presentation. The Rabbi was in her 60s or 70s, I think. Many attendees were of a similar age, or at least, the same generation. As I watched them watch her, I could see them nodding and responding in ways that the rest of us couldn't do. No matter how approachable her story, the rest of the room couldn't relate first hand to the anathema of a female Rabbi and what that meant to the rest of the Reform movement. We could understand it from a distance, but we hadn't lived it.

Those of us in the room who were around my age grew up when women were doing more and more things. While definitely not equal, we know that's the goal and quite frankly, we look with bewilderment and anger upon anyone who doesn't feel that way. The necessity to fight for change is there, but to a lesser extent (that is, until we hear politicians making stupid statements) and it's more situational. We weren't there for the "first" and we didn't see what life was like before that change. We've only seen how it's changed since then.

My daughter's class was also in that room. They behaved well and were respectful (a huge feat when you have a group of 13-year-olds in the front row), but they didn't connect in the way the rest of us did. To them, she was interesting, a piece of history. They haven't experienced people telling them they can't do something and they haven't taken a huge notice of "firsts." When I talk to my kids about equal rights for a group of people, it makes perfect sense to them. Of course that should be the case. What kind of an idiot would think otherwise (it's all in the eye-roll)? The importance of the issue is part of their "normal."

I'm glad I attended the program; I enjoyed listening to the Rabbi; and the surprising interest I took in watching those around me makes me look forward to other events in the future.

Mirror, Mirror

What do you hide and what do you reveal about yourself? To whom? From whom? I tend to be fairly reserved in front of people (apart from my snarky comments), so it sometimes takes a while for people to know me. It's not necessarily a conscious decision, although it sometimes is, and I find it funny when people are surprised at something they learn about me, especially when they're people who have known me for a long time. Just last week, a few friends were surprised by my skills at black jack.

In the blogosphere, people seem to want to find out a lot about the blog writers (or maybe it's just the writer bloggers). Every few weeks, I receive another tag requesting that I answer questions about myself. I didn't make them up, but I do have to answer them. So, here goes:

What is the one book you couldn't live without?

Other than my own? That's a surprisingly hard question, because every time I think I know which book, another one pops into my head. Hmm, if I could only have one book, that means I'm going to need something that lets me escape from reality. Therefore, I'll have to pick any of Lynn Kurland's McLeod or DePiaget romances. They're all amazing and I'd be happy with any of them.

What can you see out your window at the moment?

Argh. I'm sitting at my dining room table looking out into my backyard and staring at my neighbor's ugly shed and gravel walkway. Several years ago, he cut down all of the beautiful trees in his yard and separating our property from each other, giving me a great view of his white, black and moss-covered shed. He also somehow convinced me to take down the brush between our yards. While that decision may have been a good one, it resulted in the DEP coming and threatening to fine us for $10,000 for removing trees from wetlands. Luckily, the guy was cute, so I flirted, blamed my neighbor and promised that everything we removed was already dead. Not sure which tactic worked, but we didn't get fined. However, every time I look out my back window, that's what I think of.

What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?

I don't know that any of these would qualify as weird. When I lived in France with a French family, they served rabbit. The entire thing on a platter. They had to cover the head and face for me before I'd eat it, because it looked too much like my pet bunny from when I was a kid. Oh, and when I was 3 and 4 years old, I'd go out to dinner with my grandparents and my grandfather would let me pick anything on the menu and we'd eat it together. It was a seafood restaurant, so we ate shark and bluefish and a bunch of other sea monsters not normally chosen by toddlers.

What fictional character would you most like to marry?

Oh come on, a girl's got to keep some fantasies to herself! [image error] But I guess if forced to choose, I'd pick either Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre or one of the McLeod or dePiaget men (see Lynn Kurland answer, above).

If ever a fictional villain was going to win, who would you like it to be?

I'd have to say Severus Snape. I hated him up until he died. Then, I wanted him to be saved.

How many types of cheese can you name off the top of your head?

Gruyere, brie, cheddar, swiss, American (doesn't really count), goat, bleu, provolone, mozzarella, gouda

If you didn't want to be a writer, what would you want to be?

The first thing I ever remember wanting to be was a marine biologist so I could work with dolphins. But I have a perforated ear drum, so water and I don't get along. But I always regretted not being able to do that.

Can you play a musical instrument?

Not well, but I can play the flute and the piano.

Do you own an e-reader or a Kindle?

My parents bought me an iPad when I got my first publishing contract. I have the Nook and the Kindle on it.

If so, how many books do you have on it?

Probably about 15 or so? Not very many, but I'm building my library slowly.

You just got published. In a glowing review, someone calls you the next (insert name). Which author has to watch their back now that you're on the scene?



Seriously, I'm not competitive when it comes to writing and writers. There are so many tastes out there and so many books, I don't feel the need to compete with anyone. I'm happy just with the glowing review part.

So, now that that's done, thank you to Paula Martin for tagging me. And here's to the next round of nominees:

Elizabeth Grace

Jo Heroux

Lori

Stephanie Burkhart

Check them out, they're awesome!