O is for Omen

Owen owed his overbite to his Oracle Grandmother, Ophelia. Dr. Orson, Owen's odd orthodontist, objected to the ordinary. Owen's opulent orthodontia were occupied with opals and obsidian. Olive observed Owen, obscure in his oblique oddness. He was original. He occupied her mind. She was obsessed and obliged to make an overture. He was oblivious, obtuse. So Olive offered him an objective observation. “Your originality is outstanding! Join me in an occasional offering at the ocean, won't you?” Owen ogled Olive. Olives ocular adornments were as outrageous as his orthodontics. There was a faint odor of oranges: a good omen.

[A drabble is a story in exactly 100 words]

Not Here

I am over at Burrowers, Books and Balderdash today proving I'm insane. If you don't believe me, go see. If you believe me but it amuses you, go see. If you are frightened by my insanity, it's possible somebody pushed you down a well and you landed here by accident. If so, BOO! (did that push you over the edge?  People like me better when they are nuts, too)

Naughty Goldfish

Okay, so maybe it is a goldfish story and some naughty accessories, but you know... half a dozen of one... *shifty*

First up...

Second Crusader Challenge from Rach Writes




The Challenge:

Write a flash fiction story (in any format) in 100 words or less, excluding the title. Begin the story with the words, “The goldfish bowl teetered” These four words will be included in the word count.

Pretend Frank has a goldfish on his head

The goldfish bowl teetered on the stick of the man balancing on his unicycle, but Jasper wasn't afraid. Oh, it wasn't the skill of the acrobat—he was a hack, but Jasper had successfully guided some dozen acrobats to modest fame. Every one of them was famous after the month with Jasper. And every one had traded a year of his own life for the skill. What they didn't realize was that a human year is nearly eighty in goldfish years. Jasper was slated for a very long and happy future.

If only he could get back to his human form.

So there.

And THEN, Marian sent me the following... I think they're fabulous... just what a tart like me might need to give in and join the misery that is shopping...

teehee.

Also... theoretically, at some point today, i will find out if I made the list at Brenda Drake's blog (see Sunday blog)

And finally, it's THURSDAY!  you know what that means!

Burrow Drabble Dare

If you are feeling the need for a little romantic challenge, the Burrow Drabble Dare for January includes four images that we will feature in our February Burrow feature, (including a couple participants) so why don't you pop on over and check it out!  http://burrowers.blogspot.com/

The Kiss, Francesco Hayez - http://en.wikipedia.org/w...:Francesco_Hayez_008.jpg

Attack Blankets!

So hubby runs hot and I run cold, not unlike couples across the world, I suspect. This means we have three blankets on the bed—two on him, three on me, though that's not my point. My POINT is that the reject third blanket is one of those pounded felt numbers that originally had the satiny edging, but hasn't for many years now. The FELT is coming apart a strip at a time, such that it seems there is ALWAYS an edge of the blanket with a long strip cut, except for the ends... a TRAP, if you will, when you (meaning I) wake up in the middle of the night and need to use the loo. Step out of bed, foot goes through the loop, and then your OTHER leg gets wrapped in this blanket of doom.


You couldn't put that in fiction, could you? It takes too long to explain what the heck I'm talking about, and by the time you get it, while you still can see me toppling over, you've forgotten why I had to get up in the first place. I think maybe this is a tricky area—creating life circumstances that happen to us all, not because we are horribly CLUMSY (because in reality, I'm not really less coordinated than the average bear, though I do fall down more because I happen to WALK more (about 30 miles a week) in WORSE conditions (meaning all of them—even ice)... erm... while doing somewhat distracting things, (like reading or editing...) But that isn't CLUMSY so much as busy with a touch of reckless, yeah?


NORMAL Characters

Do you see normal characters have moments like that very often? I don't think I do. It seems like either there is a clumsy characteristic, or they get things right more often than not. That's a little annoying, actually, now that I think of it, but that is probably just me. I have a strong bias against anyone for whom things come too easily (in fiction or real life, honestly, though in real life, I forgive them mostly if they are nice... though I maintain my right to political bias).

Blankets as Characters

You know... I can only think of three examples and they are complete triangular opposite spectra of the matter.

First, we have Linus. His blankie is his marker of security and in many ways, his best friend. He doesn't do anything without the blanket. If Linus was the MC in Peanuts, the blanket would be the sidekick.


Then we have the HORRIBLE and very REAL blanket incident in which the United States government hired 'blanket assassins' to deliver small pox to native Americans—probably the moment I find most shameful in our history—not that we have a shortage of shameful moments...

And FINALLY, my favorite Blanket as Character... and one I feel positive was inspired by just such an event as I've been experiencing lately (because it ISN'T the first time I've channeled JK Rowling)--the Lethifold! The Lethifold is one of the few five-star dangerous creatures listed in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Five stars means UNTRAINABLE! Eeek! Anyway, a Lethifold is described thus in the Harry Potter Lexicon (which looks like it's from FbaWtFT (my own copy is buried somewhere in other books):

This dangerous beast resembles a half-inch thick black cloak which moves along the ground at night, hunting its prey. It attacks sleeping humans, smothers them, then digests them, all in their bed, leaving no trace at all. The only known defense against a lethifold is a Patronus Charm. Thankfully, this frightening creature is rare, only found in the tropics (FB).

Seems to me the Lethifold's only saving grace is that it LIVES where people don't often use blankets...

What about you? Any interesting, fun, horrible or frightening blankets in your stories? *shifty*



And What About The BURROW!?

No blankets there, to speak of... but we ARE doing our December feature (did I mention this already?) A new drabble is being revealed each day in December (including several from our fantastic friends). So if you'd like a different drabble every day in December, go check it out! 
http://www.the-burrow.org/
For a teaser, here was my first entry for the month (fictional—because I know you'll want to know)

Vin Chaud (Mulled wine)

“Sure, sounds like fun.”

I'm not sure I thought that, even as I said it, but how long since I'd been to one of these extended family gatherings? Since I saw you? Twenty-nine years. A husband (mine), a wife (yours) and five children ago. Curiosity stronger than fun-seeking. I really should have known.

For now I sit on a bar stool, pondering mulled wine and the man down the bar I think I went to high school with—the one who would be really stupid to sleep with. But nothing makes me quite so reckless as realities that never were.



A drabble is a story told in exactly a hundred words.

Paying It Forward

[it's a little wonky and unorthadox, but because there was no SUNDAY blog, I am posting MONDAY'S blog early.  So there...]

First, a bit of news. The Burrowers image is up for this week, one created by our Go-To-Graphics-Guy, Joris Ammerlaan, and we'd like to invite all of you to write a drabble to it! All of the details are he here.

It's a GREAT image, isn't it? You definitely should write a drabble to it and enter! Also, we are planning, if people want to put a link back to their blog, to add that components, so even though we'll only post the winner, we will link you for anyone interested. (at least that is what I think I understood—my brain has been faulty of late...)


And now...


Paying It Forward as a Drabble EVENT

Some of you may remember B. Millers May Blog about Paying It Forward, and the challenge she offered up about spreading the word. I've seen a lot of fabulous blogs since then about Paying it forward—there were contests and features.

I've been trying HERE to pay it forward as an AUTHOR—trying to spot opportunities where we can help each other out, even when we don't necessarily have means to buy tons of books.


But from another direction, it inspired The Burrow to plan our OWN project, so that is what I wanted to talk about today.

At The Burrow we have begun a feature with eleven drabbles, one revealed every couple days, whereby each character pays it forward and then the next character takes up the story and pays it forward. It's a fun one, and we hope you'll check it out!

In LOOKING for Pay it Forward STUFF, I learned there was a movie in 2000 called Pay It Forward, and I ran across some stuff right in our own little blogosphere, like this entry from Writers Unboxed. So we are onto something... we can make this grow... we all just need to be kind, even to strangers.


And Some Writing News

I don't think I've let all of you know how the process is going for quite a while. The Cozy is 2-3 chapters from done. It has been REALLY HARD getting the words out for the last week. The same blockage that has kept me from the eating right, has also caused some chaos for the writing. But NEW MONTH, fresh start... I've written through chapter 18, and am TYPING chapter 11-- a little behind there. My writer friends have through chapter 10.

I've also been READING Ted Cross's book The Shard, and am TOTALLY sucked in—it's FABULOUS.

I have a couple days off this week—very excited about that. I want to have a couple writing days, but also want to take the kids to do something fun.

I guess that is it at the mo...

So how are you paying it forward? Have you made any changes to keep the idea in your head, so that when there is an opportunity, you take advantage?

Drabbled Innuendo

So you probably all know by now that the Burrow, over at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash, are posting an image every Sunday for you to all write drabbles to. And... because I'm me, I thought I'd share a

~~~~~~~~~~

Strange. Fetish. Tickle.
Your words in my ear and I know what you have in mind.
A like mind.
An unlikely romance, to look at us.
Jack Sprat, some would say.
But your words and your eyes tell me something about you.
Our delicious meeting of minds, a collusion of souls.
So intrigued with things so uncommon,
Or rather too common.
Most would overlook the possibilities.
There are endless possibilities,
As many as there are things, I would say.
And so here we are, you and I
And never have I found
Such enjoyment
As this provocative meeting of minds.


~~~~~~~~~

Chupa Chup. What a good word. Makes you pucker just to say it, sour, then sweet shooting flavors through your mouth. If only the English were so blunt. Lollipop. What is that anyway? We could call it a suck suck, too. I'd like a suck suck please, and wrap it in bright paper. Happy presentation. I suppose maybe something is lost in translation, but it seems to me, presented elsewhere, this company could not possibly keep up with demand. "Suck suck, fifty pence!"

I suppose that is a cynical view. Or not. Suck suck for fifty pence... definite mass appeal...


~~~~~~~~~

"Martha, are you coming?"

"Oh, Frank, just let me enjoy how you look a little longer."

"But Martha, I'm getting cold. Did you open the freezer?"

"I might have. I had a little something special in there. Would you like me to show you?"

"It's not the frozen Hot Wheels again?"

"No, love. It's better."

"But I'm cold already."

"So do you want me to enjoy it alone?"

"No. I just want you to warm me up."

"But Frank, we can't waste it. Here, just hold on a second."

"Ahhhh! That was freezing!"

"Here darling, let me warm you up."

Drabbleville

So I had NO CLUES for today, and very little time. I'm trying to get my cozy chapters ready to send to MY AGENT tomorrow, plus the bathroom badly needed my attention, as did my mid-month bills... So when I first popped onto the computer, I noticed fellow Burrower, Natasha (Rayna)--hard to call a twin by a new name... had posed a BRILLIANT Drabble. My own drabbles are not that clever, but I do HAVE several of them. So I thought I'd post a couple.

For novices:  a Drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.  It's a good exercise in word economy... or silliness, depending on the author *cough*  (y'all are probably clear where I fall)

Image courtesy of Mike Hudson (a friend of mine from high school): shot taken on the Palouse--area around Moscow, Idaho

March's bleakness makes surreal the cranberry sun's promise of pleasure and beauty. It seems unreachable across the vast, empty sky. A faraway dream, never to be attained.

Only the work of spring – rains, investment, toil – allow that promise to reach fruition. In the chill it can all feel pointless, too hard to ever achieve.

But if we look about, reach out, touch what is near at hand, there is beauty in the bleakness. And the grasses left from last year remind us that the vivid ball keeps her promises, if only we hold up our own end of the bargain.

“Lemon and Lime”
Sarah Graham (Courtesty of Castle Gallery, Cardiff)

Chupa Chup. What a good word. Makes you pucker just to say it, sour, then sweet shooting flavors through your mouth. If only the English were so blunt. Lollipop. What is that anyway? We could call it a suck suck, too. I'd like a suck suck please, and wrap it in bright paper. Happy presentation. I suppose maybe something is lost in translation, but it seems to me, presented elsewhere, this company could not possibly keep up with demand. "Suck suck, fifty pence!"

I suppose that is a cynical view. Or not. Suck suck for fifty pence... definite mass appeal...

“Chocolate Spread”  Sarah Jane Szikora 

"Martha, are you coming?"

"Oh, Frank, just let me enjoy how you look a little longer."

"But Martha, I'm getting cold. Did you open the freezer?"

"I might have. I had a little something special in there. Would you like me to show you?"

"It's not the frozen Hot Wheels again?"

"No, love. It's better."

"But I'm cold already."

"So do you want me to enjoy it alone?"

"No. I just want you to warm me up."

"But Frank, we can't waste it. Here, just hold on a second."

"Ahhhh! That was freezing!"

"Here darling, let me warm you up."

Ode to a Murder
(I took this pic across from my house)

I hear the faint hum and then see the leaf-bare trees against the strawberry sky. The hum becomes a buzz and I recognize it, though it would be indistinct to an untrained ear. As I turn the corner, houses momentarily block the trees from view but the sound grows more distinct. Individual cries. Caw. Caw. A stray pair of birds veer as far as the street I am walking on and I am confirmed, but by now I have passed the houses and can see the branches well enough to recognize the congregation. A cacophony of noise welcomes me home.



So there.

Burrow Cubed

I’m periodically a geek, and darned proud of it. So here we go with three cases of Burrows… We’ve got my fellow Burrowers, burrowing, on a day famous for a burrower… and there you have it.

The Most Famous Burrower

Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow - predicting six more weeks of winter! How he could see his shadow with not a stitch of sunshine is infinitely beyond me, but there you have it. I think in fact, Phil is really having delusions and sees monsters around every turn, because I’ve never had a winter end in Michigan until well into April. I would be darned PLEASED to only have six more weeks—pretty sure though, that he saw something scarier than that darned shadow…

And you know what I never noticed before just now? Phil looks rather like a wombat. I think it’s possible he is an imposter and surely is responsible for global warming (other than what’s caused by all these giant carbon footprints, I mean). And if he is in fact a wombat, no WONDER he’s going back in his burrow! Wombats are used to a nice WARM country. I’d cuddle back into bed too at such a shock to my system!

The Burrow

This lovely group is (a subset:  5/13 or some such thing, of) my writing group, as any readers who’ve been following for a while know. We are four score blondes, brunettes and red-heads between the ages of 16 and 19 ½, who have been working on our writing careers and providing friendship and support for a couple years now. In fact if memory serves… I think it was spring of 2007 when I first officially joined and my four chapters that had taken me six months to write suddenly began to grow by a couple a month.

The Burrow has a couple members who’ve become less active of late, and I miss the camaraderie we most recently enjoyed about NaNoWriMo time, but one has had a medical thing, one’s had a family thing, and one has a bluddy thesis thing and is perhaps neglecting her digressions as well as her burrowing. But we are still a unit… this is my family, and that is how it goes sometimes.

*sends out recuperative back-to-writing mojo*

But what are we doing?

BURROWING!

[altered artwork from andyandyandy.com] Even though we are short of a quorum this month, we’ve still been at our shenanigans. Valentine’s Day falls in February, as any non-ninny knows, so The Burrow’s February feature is about LOVE in its various forms. Now before you dive for your insulin, know that NO Burrower is a sap, with some silly school-girl take on love. More of us are cynical or practical, or… rounded, than to think love is limited to the romantic type with some annoying machismo hero. Erm… is my cynicism showing? *coughs* But before you then run away thinking… "but this is supposed to be a HAPPY occasion…" know that Chary can be pretty spicy *fans self*  (watch for her strawberry drabble!), and while I am sour on that mindless, annoying love, I DO appreciate what I think of as real world love…

So please, pop on over to the Burrow and check out our February Feature. There is a new Drabble for every day this month!

Deadlines? WTF?

Nobody pays me to write, at least not yet. I have no agent, no publisher, no master, so to speak, when it comes to my writing (other than me, anyway). So how the heck did I stumble across all these looming deadlines?

The Burrow

My writing family has a website where we do features of Drabbles—we do it monthly, but about half the time we do it as an actual 'production'. These productions include images and drabbles (a drabbles is a story told in exactly 100 words). For February we have a love theme (of course) and TODAY is the day our images are due.

I am not nearly so responsible as to claim I am part of the production team—I haven't had tons of time to be the project manager and I don't have the skill set for coding or image manipulation, so (and I am SO thankful) Jason and Natasha end up with the big jobs each time, and Chary managed the Advent Calendar (Natasha is managing the February feature). But I DO commit to participating every time—I will write 5 Drabbles for February, so needed 4 images (plus the group one we all do)...

I am bad though... I knew this was coming, and I'd even looked a little, but I want to do one on the 23rd about my dad (that would have been his 65th birthday, but he died at 31)... so THIS MORNING I finally took the pictures I'd found up to my office to scan so I could submit my images... flying by the seat of my pantslessness, as I seem to do with everything these days.

I still have my drabbles to write, but heck, I've got a couple days for that!

ONDWAY

I have committed to this insanity, for better or worse, but have gone into a strange mode on my WiP (trying to pull together the three novels so they are consistent, which requires reading and notetaking) that leaves me little frivolous writing time... So here I am, on the day I need to post an update, with no update written... oh, it will be done, but again... winging it here...


Blogging

Not sure when I decided daily was necessary, but I did... so there you have it, blogging about no time to blog.

And the BIG MUTHER

I've decided to Amazon... still no word from those dangling queries, but I figure it's all good. That means I need to get my 300 word pitch JUST RIGHT, and do a proof of my Chapter 1 (which conveniently has 4000 words, more or less, so is perfect for the 3000-5000 word window for our 'opening' we are supposed to fit. And I need to format a version of the book a little differently (they don't want your name in the header, is really the biggie...


So somehow, in spite of my current amateur status, I find myself swamped... Ah well... just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

Jingle Burrow Rocks

You are all cordially invited to what has become a little tradition at the Burrow, our seasonal Advent Calendar.






Some History

[this is five of us on our way to SEE Castle Gallery in Cardiff—August 08]

History... That sounds like a long time, doesn’t it? Let’s travel back in time about two years. The Burrow, my writer’s group, was engaged in a conversation about ‘going public’. One of our number had a friend loosely affiliated with a museum in Austria and had this brain storm—what if we mutually promoted—our group writing short stories to paintings in the museum, and then the museum using those stories to promote themselves (and us).

That first iteration fell through, probably because the ties with the museum couldn’t quite sustain the grandness of the plan, but several months later, Tara walked into Castle Gallery in Cardiff and suggested a similar idea (cold—the brass!), only instead of short stories, she suggested drabbles, something our group was inclined to do for fun anyway.

Digression 1: Drabble Definition: A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 word—a great challenge to the writer’s ability to be brief. It originates from Monty Python, something all of us enjoy, but in reality, it is just a great little writing exercise.

The museum manager was very excited by the idea, and there were a few iterations of HOW this collaboration might take place, TONS of hoops and red tape, LOTS of work, culminating in an event they held last December, for which our group wrote… you guessed it… drabbles, for several of the works of art displayed. One of the drabbles was even featured on their invitation!

We decided, leading up to this event, that the Burrow also needed a public face, so we (read: Jason) worked very hard figuring out the format and content. Our buddy Joris helped ENORMOUSLY with the graphics. But we couldn’t just… go live… we wanted to have something SPECIAL…ergo, the Advent Calendar…

It’s a minority, within our international ranks, of people who are practicing Christians, but the majority do come from countries where Christmas is a noted holiday, and many of us remember advent calendars of our youths, filled with sweets, toys, or ornaments to put on the tree—we thought what better than to feature a new drabble each day leading up to Christmas, each paired with an image?

The Castle Gallery Event was a learning experience—one more successful in teaching us the art of grand  production than in achieving world fame, though it WAS pretty cool. But the Advent Calendar was something that gave our group a cohesive, cooperative face and was just pretty darned cool.

Since that time we’ve had some months with these high labor features (my favorite was to a Renoir where we each wrote from the perspective of one of the characters featured), and some months we’ve just all written to a single piece, the drabble popping up randomly from the half dozen that have been written. But when we rounded again on December, we could hardly NOT do our advent calendar again.  So go see!

A Little More About the Burrow

We are but four score blonds and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen and a half. We are a dozen writers from across the world (seven countries), Mari extends the furthest north in Oslo, Krystal the furthest south in Melbourne. We first formed nearly three years ago, and in the normal course of things, act as a critique group and support system for each other’s writing, but these productions stretch us in terms of coordination, deadlines (which I am late on), and creativity, and give us a group identity.

As writers I am the first out of the chute trying to publish a novel, but I just received Tara’s NaNo novel, so I am not alone on that prickly trail for long! Some day you will all be shocked and amazed at this cheeky bunch of nudists writers who seemed to come out of left field and have made such a broad mark across so many genres… you heard it first here!

Time's Finite Nature

November has been a (self imposed) manic month for writing. I normally have a particular routine I keep—I do some typing in the morning before work and in the evening right after dinner, then I write long-hand in the bath before bed. The typing is a transference of the long-hand to typed (and typically round one of editing). The writing is typically MOSTLY my current WiP along with the little fan fiction I still write. Sometimes I will write a short story or drabble. And sometimes I will *gasp* read a little bit. This whole deadline thing though, has thrown a big spider monkey in the works.

Typing to Hell

My NaNoWriMo work (loosely finished, but definitely not DONE) was typed directly. As I got to the late middle it occurred to me there was a reason I wrote long-hand—I have trouble getting the HEART in there on a computer screen, but I digress... This means stealing a little time to type almost didn't happen. I think I only got 3 new chapters typed when normally I can do about 2-3 a week (depending on what other stuff I have to type).

Editing to Hell

I am also supposed to be giving an editing round to CONFLUENCE – more a polish than an edit, actually (decided when I got the nibble, which I STILL haven't heard back about)--I've only managed to edit 2 chapters this month—that ALSO is a two per week venture normally.

Other Deadlines to Hell

My writer's group does an Advent Calendar (new drabble to an image each day leading up to Christmas) and I have been flying by the seat of my pants to hit my deadlines, scatter-brained and inattentive—my apologies to Chary, the current project manager... hopefully I won't have to also apologize to Jason (our web guru)--think I squeaked in on what I needed to have to Natasha (she is getting the images set)... you notice what is conspicuously missing? I've not taken a SPECK of responsibility on the thing except to write a few drabbles and I STILL am having trouble.

Additionally, there are some short story deadlines coming, a new eMag with a deadline—all things I believe I am perfectly capable of participating in, but getting my brain in the right place has been heinous (for eMag info, check the Authors Promoting Authors link to the left—looks like a good opportunity)

Reading to Hell

Okay, so when I'm in writing mode-I don't read as much as I'd like ANYWAY. They say to be a good writer you have to read, and I have normally been a reader in my life, but it seems like anymore what I read is stuff other writer friends want feedback on. This is a part of being in a writer community and I don't have any regrets EXCEPT that it leaves little other reading time. My only real reading time seems to now be on my commute (reading while I'm walking) which precludes anything that is too complicated. The trouble here is my WRITING is a little complicated... I need to keep tabs on how to write a rather complicated story well.

Other Obligations to Hell

My husband is fairly convinced that I've given up on the chores that are supposed to be mine. Laundry, bathrooms, bed-changing... happened at a far lower rate in November. My children seemed okay with me being busy—my daughter would prefer I'd just buy her stuff instead of spending time ANYWAY (not that we can afford that option even if I was willing) and my son looks a little at our parallel computing time as together time, since he thinks he's outgrown reading with me (that makes me sad).

I also haven't kept up like I'd like to on reading others' blogs or the agent seeking thing (though the agent seeking thing REALLY messes with my writing mojo, so I think I will just wait on that until I switch to editing mode (a less mojo intensive activity)

Doing Okay on the WiP

About the only obligation that HASN'T gone to hell (aside from the NaNo which is my reason for everything else going to hell) is my work in progress. I've written almost 13 chapters in November—three more than I scheduled and I still have three days left. I'm hoping at the end of the month I will only have 4 chapters left in book 2 of the Trilogy.

What's the Solution?

I really wish time turners didn't string you out like they do (or the various drugs used to the same effect)... if I could either have extra hours or give up sleeping, that would work well... better yet... getting paid without having to go to WORK!

Pretty sure what I need is a Sugar Daddy. Wealthy man willing to send large checks just because he thinks it's cute that I write... I don't cook or clean, but rich people don't need their playthings to do such things anyway. I'm not terribly socially skilled but I have... erm... some compensating skills. I'm currently a 'more of me to love' model... (and really all I want is the money because the other parts are so hard on family dynamics)...

But since that has never brought swarms of applicants... I am taking Monday off to catch up a little and hopefully December will start to feel a little more normal... other than the fact that the temperature is steadily dropping and so I won't feel much of ANYTHING I mean...

Nearly Nothing New

Except... this is the Ides of October *gasp*

So as soon as Blog is posted, I will be emailing Kara to arrange the Acupressure portion... start journaling and counting points TODAY, though I still have company, so I will be watching it in more a 'see what I'm doing' way today. The Ides after all is a Death Day, not a Birthday--so tomorrow will be the birth of a real plan, with the assistance of the Acupressure to come soon. I did weigh in this morning, and I'm not sharing, except to say I need to lost about a quarter of me...

Mari and I have had an EXCELLENT time though.  It's funny to me, how I am not normally a huge fan of the early stages of friendship EXCEPT those people I really bond with online.  My husband insists anyone could say anything and so it's impossible to know what the truth is that way, but I find in writing, people are more genuine.  My online friends I've met have been like diving in to long established friendships (because of course they ARE--just not physically).  Mari and I originally met about 3 years ago and have been part of the same writer's group for a little over two.  I'd met her once before, and I should probably note we joke about being related.  I have a grandmother whose family came from Norway (the exact city one of Mari's sister's lives in, in fact), though it is the Swedish branch of my family she looks like (shhhh).

In Other News

Visiting the Henry Ford Museum today, swim meets for my daughter tonight and tomorrow night, a weekend of writing a fan fic update or two for people who've been more than patient with me, then BACK to the Trilogy!

And finally... the Burrow has posted our Halloween Feature .  The Burrow, for those of you unfamiliar, is my writer's group, and our website features drabbles (a Monty Python term for a story told in exactly 100 words).  Drabbles are a beautiful test of story-telling, because you must be so precise.  People like me, who like stories in 200,000 words, have great difficulty with it, so it is very good practice.

Back to myself tomorrow!!!

HING!

There are some in-jokes that are too fabulous not to become OUT-jokes, and this is one of them. Ever feel truly and deeply compelled to swear, but you were someplace inappropriate for such behavior? Obviously you weren’t at the Taff River, as we Burrowers are here, because when the river is swearing so insistently, it would be hard to pin any bad words back on you… but there ARE places… But first… Hing—an Etiology in Drabble Once upon a bloody Wednesday, My Norse friend greeted friends. But then a cranky moderator Put that post to an end. “You see,” she said inanely, “You really cannot write, The ‘H’ word in this forum, ‘ing’ makes it not right.” We all then scratched our heads, Put our thoughts into a pot What horrible ‘ing’ word? See HING is what we got. Since that day we’ve taken, HING to represent, All words afoul of proper Forbidden to the gents. Be warned fine friends of people Overzealous in their way And never offer to them “Have a happy humping day.” Now for the Digressionary Version My glorious Digressionista, Mari is from Norway. Her English is excellent, but as with most school-learned foreign languages, she has picked up the slang as she goes along. Happy Hump day is well understood vernacular, but the mistake of adding an ‘ing’ to it when one is new to it, isn’t so bizarre. What WAS bizarre, was this site moderator going all cryptic in her explanation, so our little group had a BALL trying to sort out what ‘H’ ‘ing’ word could possibly have been so bad as to get the post entirely deleted. Since that time, we have substituted ‘Hing’ every time we’ve needed to swear, but been someplace it was forbidden. And if you’re REALLY mad… Hing, bloody hing is excellent. So next time you feel compelled to swear, but don’t want the smack-down that will follow… HING is your word!

Misattributing in drabble

Misattributing is such a beautiful thing. It is my very favorite word--the way it rolls off the tongue, it’s my favorite way to exercise my humor (dragging all my friends into the gutter with me), and it’s the only word I can think of that DOES what it says. Can anybody read misattribute without misattributing what they read? And isn’t it a FABULOUS misattribution, all full of innuendo. A while back I set up some extra things on Google so I could follow blogs, and it asked me the question, ‘what is you superpower?’ I responded “Misattribution”, of course. If you'd like to drabble too, here is a handy diagnostic tool for word count that gives you the option to count hyphenated words as one or two, and loses some of the quirks of many word programs (created by Jason Drake, the Burrow's own programming guru) http://www.the-burrow.org/wordcount_diagnostic.html And if you want to READ some drabbles to images, the Burrow (my writing group, an international group of miscreants intent on writing and supporting each other) does this with some regularity. http://www.the-burrow.org/

Book Hook In Drabble

This morning I ran across http://cba-ramblings.blogspot.com/] generous offer for all blog READERS to share their own story in 100 words or less. Since my own writer's group has a website dedicated to Drabbles (stories in exactly 100 words) I thought it was a nice opportunity to come HERE and both promote The Burrow (http://www.the-burrow.org/) and to share my book hook in exactly 100 words. When Mac Rawlins is recruited to a prestigious genetics program in a university town, it seems the perfect launch to his career and to raise his young children. The move however, is burdened with obstacles; his unwilling fifteen-year-old daughter from an earlier marriage accompanies the family, and when they arrive, they find a town with divided loyalties and strange undercurrents. Unwelcome occurrences begin to alter their lives one by one. Things come to a head as a grand event shakes them all and forces them to pull together to learn the real reason the family was brought to Clear Springs.