Welcome to 2014

I used to get reminders from BlogHer when I didn't post anything for a two week span. It helped, those reminders, sort of like a homework assignment, or a work deadline.
 Left to my own devices, I was probably spending way too much time skimming pages on Pinterest for decor ideas, or sending away for land brochures and bookmarking fashion pages for shit I don't need or can't afford.
 Or maybe I was doing this.

 There were those chunks of days I dedicated to writing, and even bigger day chunks spent editing, submitting, revising ... so, that's something, because it's all about the AMOUNT of creative work you produce over your lifetime that will lead to greatest success ... according to a recent NPR episode that I chose to listen to rather than study my Spanish lesson.
 At least I wasn't doing this.

 So, that's something.

I have managed to corrupt, I mean entertain, a whole new group of players by starting a monthly Girls Night Out. I love these ladies. We laugh. A lot.
 There's also Book Club and Bunco, Poker for the boys and of course, a regular schedule of yoga and weight training, because some days I need to go out in the world and eavesdrop to get the perfect combination of imagination, dreamland and reality into a scene.
On that note, things are progressing with the pitching of the book/s. All good news and all very exciting. I've got the right people around me and the cards are finally in place.
 And I've got a bunch more flash fiction in the stack, now that I've decided once and for all to write without the self-editing/inhibiting questions of what would that person think or how would that group of people feel... 

 I encourage you to go out there and attack life this year. Find your passion. Seek what fuels you. Enjoy life, don't merely go through the motions. Dump negativity and surround yourself with people and things- if that's your kick- that make you feel good.

I'll be back in a few. Stay out of trouble. Dance. A lot. And eat healthy.

Maybe get a Roomba.

Perks of being a blogger with local blogger friends

You can invited to some pretty cool events. I have been asked to evaluate sports cars, read advance copies of celebrity books, sample wine and travel to places I never would have known about.

Last night, I was able to tap into my technologically creative and organizational side- at the same time- when I was introduced to the personalized card company called tiny prints.

I wish this had been around when my kids were born. Although my personalized chocolate bar wrapper was a hit. It had required a lot of guesswork and I still think the results could have been better.

Tiny Prints makes the perfect big impression for any occasion, but last night we were all about Mommies. 

We chatted and snacked.

we were treated to manicures by Rhonda.

and massages by Mary

 AHHHH. 

We laughed, drank wine, shared our websites, blogs, and contacts, as social moms and mannies do. We told stories about motherhood- our own experiences and that of our parents raising us. We sat on a balcony and welcomed the cool breeze and fresh scent of spring, while the rest of the south was hunkering down in basements, clamping their ears against tornado sirens. 

 Thanks to our hostess dot at Dabbled.org and Foodwhirl I hope to keep in touch with the other bloggers and moms I met last night and definitely think we should do this again.

And the best thing was, I made a THE BEST card for my mother today, tinyprints even sent it for me! AND last night, I won the door prize: A FREE Tiny Prints photo book. Just in time for Father's day.

It's not too late for you. Fan tinyprints on Facebook and get a free Mother's day card.

Most Viewed Blog. And A Teaser.

 I changed the layout a bit here, bop around and see if you like it.

And as a bow to the old days, I thought I would share with you my most viewed post... maybe it's the pictures? Had to laugh to see the Middle Eastern hits on that one. Really??

 Here it is.

 I am also back to also posting on THE OTHER OTHER GOOD THING,


and trying to wrap my mind around final, final edits on the contemporary detective novel, 3 Women Walk into a Bar, while shoving copious notes on the WIP mystery series aside and trying to tell myself to slow down and breathe...

Yep. Just another day in my world.

What's the teaser, you ask?
 Well, it's another sort of wrap.
 The conclusion of the first writebythewater.com  WRITERS RETREAT

writers retreat

You can read all of Gwen's posts here and you can read how you can join us a writer in at the retreat in February here.

But mostly you can be jealous that a bunch of writers shared a beach house, had a great time, and wrote like crazy.

What does it really mean to: Put it out there?

From ANCHORMAN: 
Ron Burgundy: I wanna say something. I'm gonna put it out there; if you like it, you can take it, if you don't, send it right back. I want to be on you.
[Veronica turns and walks away]
Ron Burgundy: Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I... I wanna be on you.


I watched HOUSE last night with the family and I was reminded no less than 4 times how the woman reaching for her Mac to update her blog... was just like Mommy. How she is always putting it all out there. How sharing her whole life can be both stupid and boringly self indulgent.

And I might have agreed with them at one point in my computer addicted life, but now- at least this Spring, I have been too busy to commit to any sort of addiction- especially with the millions of blogs out there now. How can I possibly read, comment, post and reply in anything other than a sporadic fashion? Sorry to all the bloggers I love to read, to Churlita and Maypole and Joss and Dooce, to women in HI who make me weather jealous to funny mommies in Athens who are oh so pretty, to the men with wit, humor and nice abs, to the pathetic lonely ones who make me feel really kinda okay about my life, to the angry aggressive political ones who I pretend to read cuz it makes me look smart and involved... and really I just echo someone else's inane comment, to friends I've missed, to authors I love, to people I admire. ( and damn, now I want to go read them all)

I am trying to concentrate on smart career choices, blog with integrity,  trying to honor and respect privacy concerns, while learning about personal and public security. 
From sites like this: Please ROB ME.

I want to blab it all- how I feel about Obama, what I ate last night. How I am pissed to not have all the answers. 
It's hard to do the whole "life-edit" thing-- especially difficult for me, a woman who is generally an open book to friends, family and strangers- a real love me or leave me the heck alone, no holds barred, put it all out there kind of person...an attitude which can sometimes boomerang ...  
Putting it all out there was one of the things I thought would feed my creative soul, would give me fodder for writing, would draw exciting innovative new possibilities to me- networking with my peers who felt the same, finding groups of creative sorts who understood me, placing my work in journals and magazines and on sites where people could read and nod in understanding instead of questioning and judging. Maybe there were even other writers who would become lifelong friends because they too "got" what was in my head... the stuff that I was now spewing for the whole world to see. And it has, for the most part... course there are a few "followers" who are not exactly the kind I'd invite for diner, or even share my real name with... but I have found a few amazing muses along the way. People without whom I never would have found the characters for this latest novel.

I am beginning to step more cautiously forward, but still abide by my personal "tell them or they will never know" rule of life. And, so far when "putting it all out there," whether in words or in adventures, I have been blessedly protected by a miniature army of guardian angels.

Take my recent foray into a skanky low rent sleeze ball area of town, a bar where bikers (and I mean the noisy chromed motorized 2 wheel kind, not the healthy, muscle operated, skinny wheeled specialty shoes required kind of equally pricey yet much more quiet bikes) had preferred parking.
 My German import was the smallest car in the lot- check that. Only car. The rest of the vehicles were trucks and bigger trucks.
I knew stepping into the smoke-filled bar this was going to be one short visit. It's something a tiny part of my brain quickly assimilated as I noticed this was part drive through liquor store, part toothless people bar- part heavy metal band outdoor stage.
 But I was there to  meet someone. I'd promised to drop in. I'd promised to help if I could...Lord knows I am an enabler. So there I was, putting it out there, stepping from my car with a prayer on my tongue and the weight of 2 beefy angels on either shoulder. And a sober gal pal at my side.


Long story short. 20 minutes later we left- stinky smoky, still sober and pleased to have followed through.
 see.. that's life, if you open yourself to all that it has to offer, it's gonna want to be on you.

And as Paris would say, "That's hot."

My first guest blogger gig.

I'm pleased and flattered to be asked to post with these wonderful writers.

Check it out.

In a status message world, there's a fine line between pithy and concise.

Sentences come to me in the middle of the night. Perfect opening lines find me in the shower.
A string of words that I imagine will become the well loved and much quoted words of the perfect ending to The Great American Novel pop into my head as I drive to the gym.
I can't turn it off. I don't want to turn it off.
But lately, I find the inner voice is distracted, slightly disembodied. The single sentence shudders to a halt. The string of words doesn't have a wrap to the unwritten beginning.
My brain is writing status messages.
I have been mentally hijacked by technology.

In a single day, 140 character twitters tell the world that I had my coffee and am omw to the gym. Two sentences on Facebook let over 300 friends know that I did all my errands with a pencil sticking out of my ponytail because I spent the morning editing. On Yahoo Instant Messenger, my contacts see I am drinking wine and listening to Poe. A Myspace frowny face tells people even before they read my snippet, that I can't be bothered by pettiness.

What's the solution?
To visit these places less? To stop writing status messages? To refine the reasons I started any of these internet social pages to begin with?

I know that the blog is useful when it jump starts a writing day.
Facebook helps me connect with other writers and feel the camaraderie.
Twitter might be good if you're at an event that others can't attend...but frankly,
Myspace has become an eyesore and a place I rarely visit.
(Though I keep one to check on my kids.)

Here's where the pithy and concise parts collide.
I had an idea when I first started blogging in 2005, that I would follow my path to publication. I had a novel and I was querying agents and marketing myself to the world. I had a plan.
And it worked.
I published a fair share of short stories, essay and articles, won some awards, met lots of folks and just recently landed an agent.
It's all good.

But I wasn't writing with focus. I was just writing- about trips and family and friends and parties and shopping and shoes. Oh yes, shoes. And authors and books and kids and dogs and life. Each post starting with a single word that opened up an idea, a self commentary that may have been a phone call if I didn't despise the phone. It might have been a conversation with a friend over coffee, if I had friends that I could meet over coffee. They became pithy blog posts that might have been called diary entries if this was 1982.

Maybe that is exactly what was supposed to happen. Maybe that's what these social outlets have become- a combination of journaling for those of us who need to be heard - and some that don't- Lord, do not get me started on the stream of consciousness bloggers... I can see the benefit of re-connecting with our past by finding old friends and classmates, even hunting for jobs. Of course for some, these social pages are a further connection to their future as they seek friends, romance, or just a cyber-connection virtual date.

There is no wrong or right way to use social networks, just the way that works for you. (though if your boss, your kid or your Grandma is one of your connections you probably need to watch your content more).
A writer friend said that if blogging takes away your urge to write the "real stuff" you need to stop, or at least place limits, and if you are spending more time on Facebook playing games and poking around people's friends lists, than finishing your wordcount for the day, you really need to unplug your modem.

Unplug. That is about as concise as it gets.

Driving a car you can't even buy yet.

Yes I did. Check it out under LINDA SANDS AROUND TOWN
over there... to your right. No your other right.
or geez
just click here.

Before you whip your dead fish at my house.

Let's get some things straight, all you crazy fish keepers who love to send anonymous hate mail.
This is the picture of the fish that spiked your ire. This is the first and last HYBRID Cichild I will ever own. If you had bothered to read my comments or any of my other posts- you would see that I am not only an animal lover, but also a fish enthusiast and a knowledgeable keeper with years of experience with multiple tanks.

Would someone who spent the last three weeks handfeeding baby Mourning Doves that fell out of a tree, then returning them to nature, smack a fish on a garage floor?

This photo which some of you claimed was a metal trashcan lid- which we can't even use in our neighborhood, is in fact, a feed bucket that I use to clean the tank. This is the fish before I added the water,
placed the plank of wood over the top of it and drove it to the fish store, AVIARIUM in DULUTH GEORGIA where I have brought 3 large Oscars and one very aggressive Red Devil who actually bit me when cleaning a tank. I usually have to beg the guy there to take the fish and get nothing, maybe a plant in return.
I have no doubt someone like you, MONSTER FISH KEEPER members, or your pals walked in that store or one like it and felt like you were getting a bargain. I choose to believe those fish were re-homed, just like when I drop off towels at the local animal shelter, I choose to believe all those dogs and cats found a barn in the country to call home. But ...

Let me say a few things here, as this is my blog and I can damn well say whatever I want.

To Those of you who wrote to me with your angry hateful words.
I think it is FANTASTIC.
You are so passionate, you took the time to tell people how you feel.
Wow.
Imagine if you did that in real life, everyday- to your boss, your neighbor, your congressman, your grocery store clerk. How much different would your life be?

Because apparently you KNOW everything about everybody.
Why even from looking at my photo you have determined things about me that you are certain are true. You are superhuman monster fish keepers.
I am so impressed.
And I thank you for all the hits on my blog. You made me a lot of money and gave me a lot of free press. Did you ever hear the expression, there is no bad press?

So, yes you not so anonymous fish lovers. ( comments and posts and websites and blogs have trackers, just so you know.)


For the future, know that anytime you want to express your opinion- out there in the real world?
You should give your complete name, your address, your contact information, because in this LAND OF THE FREE AND HOME OF THE BRAVE, we have rights and when you believe in them you should stand proudly and tell the world how you feel things could change, why they should and we can all have rational discussions.
You don't need to call me names, you don't need to threaten. Are you a Cichlid?

I didn't think so.
I understand. I have always understood. There are a bunch of people out there who get in over their heads- they don't spay their dogs, they let their cats run wild, they do not educate their children, they incur consumer debt, they eat poorly, they gamble, they steal, they are addicts, they may even believe the girl at the PETCO who says this hybrid fish is a 4 incher semi-aggressive.
After four years of tanks in CA and six years with this setup in GA, I no longer keep Cichlids. I have a smaller tank of tropicals that is easier to maintain and just as interesting and calming to watch.
CALMING. Hmm. That is a concept, fish people.

As far as this blog? It's not what I do, or who I am. It's a way I stay connected. I am a mother, a wife, a friend, a music and film lover. I am a novelist, a published essayist and short story writer. I write fiction. I exaggerate. I am sarcastic and I love irony. I have a wonderful sense of humor, though a bit on the dark side at times. I tend to speak off the cuff- and sometimes blog that way. And above all, I understand everyone has a right to voice their opinion.
Mine might be that I think You are ignorant cowards, and very very poor spellers. You also have no understanding of fiction.

It might be. But it's not. Because no one has the right to judge.

You are responsible for you. I am responsible for me. That is the way it is.
You cannot control or change me, as much as we both might like for that to happen.

Let me close with this:
I forgive you.
I think somewhere in there you have big hearts. You care. And that is wonderful.

Now go out in the world and shake someone else's tree.
You have the power to do good. Use it wisely.

Bloggin' Like A Mother!

Last weekend I attended the Decatur Book Festival. For all the crazy fun and wonderfulness that weekend brought, you'd think I'd have a few pictures. I do. And something to say.
Of course I do.
Let's start here- with BLOGGERS!

This is Kristen Chase of Motherhood Uncensored and Mir Kamin of Woulda Coulda Shoulda.

See how pretty they are? See how happy they look? You would never guess one was recuperating from her own fun-filled evening battling food poisoning and the other is about to give birth- any minute now.

Go read their blogs. Buy their book.Say thank you.

Why do you blog?

It's not bad enough that we judge ourselves every time we look in a mirror, see ourselves in a photo, hear our out-going message on the voicemail... now we have opened ourselves up to a blogosphere that may not accept us.
They don't understand, we whine. They didn't get the joke. I stink at this. Who reads this shit anyway? Why does it matter? What am I supposed to say? Why do I have so many hits and so few comments? Who did I offend now?
I hear all of this from new bloggers and sometimes from people who have been doing it for a while. Bloggers come in all packages. They want to announce something good and new: a company, a book, a baby, a pet, a move. They want to help a cause: themselves, their business, a disease, weight loss, child rearing, a political movement.
There are the comment whores who will write and ask anything for the feedback, sometimes resorting to the contest giveaway. I have been know to name drop in the title just to see how many random hots it will bring in.
There are the intelligent writers who ramble on so long my blackberry thumb tires on the scroll button. There are the cutesy Mommy bloggers and the REAL Mommy bloggers. There are men who think they are Mommies and men who hate Mommies. there are the fashionistas and the anti- everythings and there are the rip-off bloggers: they take whatever they find elsewhere on the internet and post it on their site, like, "Look, I have chosen all the news fit for you. Today."
Somedays, it just feels like so much work, but when you're away for a week and not posting or commenting daily and your traffic comes to a screeching halt- dropping you more than 600 spots in the blogroll, you feel kind of crappy. Like you failed a really important test in high school- which happens to be a recurring nightmare for me.
So, what kind of blogging am I to resort to?
or better question: what kind of blogging have I been doing?
Is it bad to say I write about the things I do, the people I meet, the stuff I think odd or funny?

I was talking to a writer friend and we both agreed that we are the kind of people that THINGS HAPPEN TO. He said it was that we were receptive to it, not that we went looking for it- because honestly, I could have gone anywhere to have my brows shaped and only one waxer would have told me the story of giving the beautiful virgin bride her first Brazilian Bikini wax job.
Maybe that's the answer. I'll start telling you all the weird happenings, all the things I usually save for short stories and characters in the novel. As long as you promise not to steal them.

Attention writers!

The monthly writing contest is up and running, with only a few more days
until the February 22nd deadline.
Go to scratchcontest.net for all the details.

Heck of a way to start the month.

I was a bad girl.
I didn't blog. I didn't read blogs. I didn't read the paper or watch the news or listen to NPR.
Instead, I went to my first Christmas party of the year, drank champagne at 10 am, after attending a long, interesting meeting where I felt inept- not the first time. later in the day we met another family for a night at Medieval Times., where i might have fallen in love for the 50th time with a long haired knight in red-- the bad guy- of course. Video and pix to come.

So why is that I find that something about this season makes me sad?
I cried while watching an inspirational movie- Peaceful Warrior, then welled up with tears at the Petsmart dog adoption site, and had to go see yappy evil dogs being groomed to get over it. I became overwhelmed listening to carols on Sirius and had to pinch my thigh to avoid getting emotional when I saw the old homeless guy who looks like a skinny St. Nick get busted by the cops for panhandling.
Am I a sap, or just PMS' ing?

A twist on nablopomo: 30 DAYS OF SHOES

Totally a woman's blog event. Although there are those- ahem- fetishes...

Okay. So I already owe you two.
Here is what I wore on Nov 1.


and Nov 2I sense a boot affair brewing, so today, I'll mix it up and wear these:Don't worry, I have plenty to go around, and 2 DSWs within 15 miles.