B.A. Tortuga's Blog, page 113
January 14, 2011
Cons!
whistles happily
So, who's coming to LA to the Romantic Times Convention in April?
I'll be there.
So will Julia.
There will be books.
Margaritas.
Goofiness.
We need to start plotting our redneck costumes…
Also, I'll be at Authors After Dark in Philly in August and GayRomCon in NOLA in October. :D
So, who's coming to LA to the Romantic Times Convention in April?
I'll be there.
So will Julia.
There will be books.
Margaritas.
Goofiness.
We need to start plotting our redneck costumes…
Also, I'll be at Authors After Dark in Philly in August and GayRomCon in NOLA in October. :D
January 12, 2011
Stock Show Season.
Oh, y'all.
Do you feel that? That in the air?
You know what it is?
RODEO!
Bull riding. Roping. Denver. Ft. Worth. San Antone. Houston. Austin. Bronc riding. Barrel racing. Clowns.
Concerts.
The beginning of regular rodeo series.
Ropes. Wranglers. Chaps. Cowboys.
C.
O.
W.
B.
O.
Y.
S.
I.
Are you ready?
I'm ready.
Do you feel that? That in the air?
You know what it is?
RODEO!
Bull riding. Roping. Denver. Ft. Worth. San Antone. Houston. Austin. Bronc riding. Barrel racing. Clowns.
Concerts.
The beginning of regular rodeo series.
Ropes. Wranglers. Chaps. Cowboys.
C.
O.
W.
B.
O.
Y.
S.
I.
Are you ready?
I'm ready.
January 10, 2011
Happy birthday to me! (Yesterday)
Wow. I'm 40. Four. Oh.
Does that make me old now? I don't feel old. In fact, I'm feeling better every day.
You know how people say, I didn't think I'd get this far? I really think I'd get this far.
This weekend started on Friday with a party, then Saturday there was pedicuritude. Sunday I got a loom from Julia, brunch at my favorite restaurant, and strawberry cupcakes. :D
Grins
Now I'll have to make another goal. Live to 90, maybe?
Man, do y'all think I'll still be writing smut then?
Does that make me old now? I don't feel old. In fact, I'm feeling better every day.
You know how people say, I didn't think I'd get this far? I really think I'd get this far.
This weekend started on Friday with a party, then Saturday there was pedicuritude. Sunday I got a loom from Julia, brunch at my favorite restaurant, and strawberry cupcakes. :D
Grins
Now I'll have to make another goal. Live to 90, maybe?
Man, do y'all think I'll still be writing smut then?
January 7, 2011
Happy Birthday to MEEEEE!
My birthday!
Okay, it's not today, it's Sunday, but I'm celebrating today.
It's one of the big birthdays (the ones with the zeros on the end, ack), but I'm feeling pretty good about it. I'm healthy, happy, I have the best job in the world, an amazing hairstylist, red glasses, and basset hounds.
My thirtieth birthday was spent in the hospital with a lung abscess, so every birthday after just gets better and better. (Although, for this birthday (another one with a zero on the end), I am recovering from pneumonia. It's a thing.)
Grins
Oh, and Julia's throwing me a margarita party tonight. Score!
Okay, it's not today, it's Sunday, but I'm celebrating today.
It's one of the big birthdays (the ones with the zeros on the end, ack), but I'm feeling pretty good about it. I'm healthy, happy, I have the best job in the world, an amazing hairstylist, red glasses, and basset hounds.
My thirtieth birthday was spent in the hospital with a lung abscess, so every birthday after just gets better and better. (Although, for this birthday (another one with a zero on the end), I am recovering from pneumonia. It's a thing.)
Grins
Oh, and Julia's throwing me a margarita party tonight. Score!
January 5, 2011
Desk Kama Sutra
One of my writerly friends in Canada (waves to SM) sent me a magnetic kama sutra desk toy for Christmas.
This thing… Y'all…
I mean, it's obscene. It's hilarious.
It's impossible not to mess with. I'm telling you, I've got these poor little genderless bald weirdoes in positions unheard of by anyone not into hard core perversion.
(Which, okay, explains why SM knew where to find one, but still…)
I love it.
Love it.
So, that's why I had to share with y'all.
This thing… Y'all…
I mean, it's obscene. It's hilarious.
It's impossible not to mess with. I'm telling you, I've got these poor little genderless bald weirdoes in positions unheard of by anyone not into hard core perversion.
(Which, okay, explains why SM knew where to find one, but still…)
I love it.
Love it.
So, that's why I had to share with y'all.
January 3, 2011
Happy New Year!
Resolutions.
I know it's not cool to make resolutions anymore, but I still do it. Most of mine this year are pretty specific. I'm trying to eat a fruit and/or veggie with every meal/snack. I'm going to shoot for reading 100 books for pleasure in 2011 (in 2010, I made it to 88). I'm putting back $20 a week to put into a savings account for my big 45th birthday trip to the Galapagos and Macchu Picchu.
I'm also going to try not to get hurt again in 2011. In 2010, I dislocated a shoulder, tore a quad, and pulled an Achilles. No. Fun.
On the writing front, I'm going to set a goal of finishing one novel per month. We'll see in December how I do. I have friends that can accomplish that, but I'm not quite there. With the Turn of the Screw serial fiction going away, though, that'll free up one day a week for novel writing, so we'll see how I do.
A girl's got to have a goal, right?
Right.
Wish me luck.
I know it's not cool to make resolutions anymore, but I still do it. Most of mine this year are pretty specific. I'm trying to eat a fruit and/or veggie with every meal/snack. I'm going to shoot for reading 100 books for pleasure in 2011 (in 2010, I made it to 88). I'm putting back $20 a week to put into a savings account for my big 45th birthday trip to the Galapagos and Macchu Picchu.
I'm also going to try not to get hurt again in 2011. In 2010, I dislocated a shoulder, tore a quad, and pulled an Achilles. No. Fun.
On the writing front, I'm going to set a goal of finishing one novel per month. We'll see in December how I do. I have friends that can accomplish that, but I'm not quite there. With the Turn of the Screw serial fiction going away, though, that'll free up one day a week for novel writing, so we'll see how I do.
A girl's got to have a goal, right?
Right.
Wish me luck.
December 21, 2010
Contest winner!
Buttononthetop!
If you'll email me at batortuga at batortuga dot com, I'll mail your pressie out.
Happy holidays, y'all!
Julia and I are heading out for a few days off.
Merry Christmas!
If you'll email me at batortuga at batortuga dot com, I'll mail your pressie out.
Happy holidays, y'all!
Julia and I are heading out for a few days off.
Merry Christmas!
December 20, 2010
Rolling into Christmas week
Lord.
Packages and cards sent. Parties hosted and attended. Presents bought. Trees decorated (we have six -- white, pink, blue, silver, and 2 green). Now I have to wrap (which, okay, I admit, I make someone else do. I hate wrapping), make some cookies (meringues and gluten free spice drops). Get food for Christmas eve and snacks for Christmas day. Clean.
Happy holidays.
:D
Packages and cards sent. Parties hosted and attended. Presents bought. Trees decorated (we have six -- white, pink, blue, silver, and 2 green). Now I have to wrap (which, okay, I admit, I make someone else do. I hate wrapping), make some cookies (meringues and gluten free spice drops). Get food for Christmas eve and snacks for Christmas day. Clean.
Happy holidays.
:D
December 17, 2010
One y'all in a story does not make him a cowboy.
So, I have to admit, I love cowboys.
Love them.
Come from a long line of them.
I love how they're prideful and strong. I love how they look. I love jeans and chaps. I love the drawl from the Texan version and the craggy lines from the mountain version. I love the hands of the ropers, the mouth scars of the roughstock boys. Boots, hats, trucks, dogs – I'm in.
It's my heritage.
This is why last night I went hunting cowboy romance and… Wow.
Wow.
I have Texas and mountain cowboys in my family. I know literally hundreds of cowboys.
They're vain. They're close-knit at best. There's a code that you either follow or… shit, I don't even know what the 'or' is.
When I want to read cowboys, I don't want to read a strange white-washed, generic romance hero plopped into a Stetson and boots because that's what popular and that's what sells right now. I want to read a man like the amazing men I grew up with. I want to hear the sound of my life – the tone and phrases that any ranch-raised girl knows means 'I'm here and it's going to be okay now, baby girl'. I want to believe in the story.
In other words, the only horseshit I want to smell needs to be from the horse, or I can't get into the story. I'm tired of choosing a book and getting four pages in and discovering that the author has obviously never been to a rodeo once, much less once a week for every rodeo season she's been alive.
Don't get me wrong. I've written Italians after only spending a few weeks in Italy. I've written an eco-terrorist without actually having blown anything up. I get it. We're writers. We research and do our best. Hell, my editors pray daily that I write a book where the characters speak and think in 'proper' English (don't hold your breath, y'all).
But sometimes a girl just wants to get in bed with her Kindle and read a love story with a cowboy. A real, recognizable cowboy.
You know what they say, don't call him a cowboy until you see him ride.
Love them.
Come from a long line of them.
I love how they're prideful and strong. I love how they look. I love jeans and chaps. I love the drawl from the Texan version and the craggy lines from the mountain version. I love the hands of the ropers, the mouth scars of the roughstock boys. Boots, hats, trucks, dogs – I'm in.
It's my heritage.
This is why last night I went hunting cowboy romance and… Wow.
Wow.
I have Texas and mountain cowboys in my family. I know literally hundreds of cowboys.
They're vain. They're close-knit at best. There's a code that you either follow or… shit, I don't even know what the 'or' is.
When I want to read cowboys, I don't want to read a strange white-washed, generic romance hero plopped into a Stetson and boots because that's what popular and that's what sells right now. I want to read a man like the amazing men I grew up with. I want to hear the sound of my life – the tone and phrases that any ranch-raised girl knows means 'I'm here and it's going to be okay now, baby girl'. I want to believe in the story.
In other words, the only horseshit I want to smell needs to be from the horse, or I can't get into the story. I'm tired of choosing a book and getting four pages in and discovering that the author has obviously never been to a rodeo once, much less once a week for every rodeo season she's been alive.
Don't get me wrong. I've written Italians after only spending a few weeks in Italy. I've written an eco-terrorist without actually having blown anything up. I get it. We're writers. We research and do our best. Hell, my editors pray daily that I write a book where the characters speak and think in 'proper' English (don't hold your breath, y'all).
But sometimes a girl just wants to get in bed with her Kindle and read a love story with a cowboy. A real, recognizable cowboy.
You know what they say, don't call him a cowboy until you see him ride.
