Five Silly Song

On the fifth day of Christmas her Tartness gave to us...

Fi---ive Sii---illy Songs

Four Cross-Dressed

Three Christmas Lists

Two Tartlet Minis

And a Boy Toy on a Hay Bale

Come All Ye Writers (to Come All Ye Faithful)

Oh, come all ye writers

Desperate and reject-ed

Oh come ye, oh come ye to Ha-ar lequin

Come and pay money

to have a book put in your hand

But don't think it will sell a one

No, don't think it will sell a one

No don't think it will sell a one

Iiii----iiiiiit's a scam

Nary a book store

Will see your fancy co-ver

No, don't think it will sell a one

No, don't think it will sell a one

No don't think it will sell a one

Iiii----iiiiiit's a scam

Query Hell (to Jingle Bells)

Which agents should they go

The queries that I send

I offer up my soul

Going round the bend

Envelopes with stamps

Are to my query clipped

Wish I were a well known

Or had a bribe to slip

Oh, Query hell

Query hell

I'm in Query hell

No one asks to read my book

They think it just won't sell

Every typo gone

My plot is oh, so good

I even know my jokes

Are mostly understood, (ha ha ha).

Characters are round

With flaws that help the plot

I just wish this query would

Help this book be bought

Oh, Query hell

Query hell

I'm in Query hell

No one asks to read my book

They think it just won't sell

Adverbs are a Danger (to Away in the Manger)

Adverbs are a danger, so smite them away,

Our books, they belittle and lead us astray.

The words unimportant distract from the plot,

Delete them at once or your book won’t be bought.

Strong verbs how we love them, good nouns are a must,

An adjective now and then surely is just.

Adverbs you are useless, so please go away

Stop dragging down prose for too heav’ly you weigh.

Adverbs I will leave you, and please don’t come back

I’m trying to get off this blasted slush stack.

Be clear, in my daily routine I will use,

But please stop this taunting of my writing muse.

Agents do not like a Whin-er (to Santa Claus is Coming to Town)

You better watch out

You better not cry

Better not pout

I'm telling you why

Agents do not like a Whin-er

He's reading your blog

And checking it twice;

Gonna find out who's dissing advice

Agents do not like a Whin-er

He heard you mocking Meyer

He saw query complaints

He knows if you've played nice or not

So you'd better be a saint!

O! You better watch out!

You better not cry

Better not pout

I'm telling you why

Agents do not like a Whin-er

Agents do not like a Whin-er

An because I can't go a day without a nice pinched cheek or two...

Lucius the Cross Dressed Bad Boy (to Rudolph)

You know Saywer and Viggo and Gerard and Johnnie,

And Cabana Boys Rico, Xavier and Ronnie,

But do you recall

The Naughtiest Bad Boy of all?

Lucius, the Cross-Dressed Bad Boy

Had a very shiny crown,

And if you ever saw him,

He sometimes even wore a gown.

All of the other Bad Boys

Used to call him sissy names;

They never let poor Lucius

Join in any hot tub games.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve,

Her Tartness came to say:

“Lucius with your boa so bright,

Won't you be my star tonight"

He danced in rings around them

As the ladies swooned around,

“Lucius the Cross-Dressed Bad Boy,

You sure know how to wear a crown."

Four Cross-Dressed

On the fourth day of Christmas her Tartness gave to us…


Four Cross-Dressed
Three Christmas Lists
Two Tartlet Minis
And a Boy Toy on a Hay Bale


I should probably e’splain…

I’ve always gotten a good giggle out of a drag show. I like the trick of a man who is exquisitely beautiful and can nail a Bette Midler impression. But my real obsession with cross dressed men has a more complicated story…

It all started with the intersection of Monty Python and Harry Potter… (yes, really)

You SEE… when the load of Potter-crazed fans was waiting for the publication of Deathly Hallows… before it even had a name… probably as early as the BARELY OUT phase of Half Blood Prince, there was at HPANA a thread to discuss the evidence that JK Rowling was a Monty Python fan. There’s quite a lot of proof, actually.

“Bang ‘im on the counter.” HP: at Magical Menagerie about Ron’s rat. MP: Dead Parrot sketch

Cockroach Cluster.

And doesn’t Sir Codogan remind you of the Black Knight?

Anyway… in all this discussion I ran across a song… for your amusement, to the tune of the Lumberjack Song..

Hey a search turned up several options!

http://www.fictionalley.org/authors/palladias/ANFSCDTDES01a.html

http://home.att.net/~coriolan/faculty/dada.htm (go 2/3 down)

But here is the clip I saw:

I'm a Death Eater, and I'm okay.
I plot all night and I teach all day.


He's a Death Eater, and he's okay.
He plots all night and he teaches all day.


I take house points. I yell at kids.
I go to my dungeon.
On Wednesdays I'm at Hogsmeade.
Have butterbeer alone.


Since that time, I’ve taken all deatheaters for cross dressers (at least wearing pretties under their robes), but the idea has expanded as an appropriate ‘training’ for bad boys in desperate need of getting in touch with their feminine side. So HERE, I present to you four men who desperately need to spend some time in a corset and garter belt:

Gerard Butler

Oh, I know… he looks pretty darned good like this, and his impish grin is quite disarming, but the man is always so darned MACHO… I just think he could benefit from some time in a teddy at the far side of a whip, if you know what I mean…

Tom Cruise

This is a case of a man who just takes himself entirely too seriously and ought to lighten up. He’s a guy I really want in a tutu and bows, to be honest. I think he just needs to learn a little humility, and that is the kind of thing that might teach him.

Vin Diesel

Like Gerard, this is a man with some serious potential. I bet with pecks like that he could spin tassles… I’m just sayin’…

Josh Holloway

And my FAVORITE for the cross dressing treatment, but in this case because I’m ENTIRELY convinced he would know how to work it (you see… I have a friend who reminds me a little of Sawyer—hear that Phil? Naughty naughty naughty in all the right ways and a couple of wrong ones, but smarter than he lets on and his heart in the right place)


So those are the four I think desperately need to be cross dressed (unlike all those death eaters who already ARE, and I will leave you with this thought…


Because you see.... my whole theory on the matter is that stepping outside of the comfort zone a little helps us learn to PLAY, have a little FUN... maybe role play.  It also can give some creative vent to those inner demons... sort of like writing...

Three Christmas Listies

On the third day of Christmas her Tartness gave to us...

Three Christmas Listies

Two Tartlet Minis

And a Boy Toy on a Hay Bale

By three Christmas Listies, I mean, my personal, my writer, and my tart list, of course...

Tami's Listy

Slippers
Best of Aerosmith CD
Half Blood Prince DVD
University of Oregon Sweatshirt
Comfy, warm, yet fashionable hiking boots
Jasmine or gardenia bath wash

Hart's Listy

Query Godmother
Three perfect synopses for my trilogy
Agent Who is SUPEREXCITED about me
Publishing Contract large enough to give up the day job
Notebooks, pens, ink cartridges, typing paper, more pens, more paper
Gift certificate for book tour fitness plan
New laptop with better software

Tart's Listy

First Day of Christmas Boy Toy
One day a week each with Viggo Mortenson, Johnnie Depp, &  Jason Isaacs
Swimmable sized hottub with taps for champagne or chocolate
Personal trainer named Sven who does massage after every workout
Body paints in fruit and chocolate flavors

Two Tartlet Minis

On the second day of Christmas, her Tartness gave to us...

Two Tartlet Minis

and a Boy Toy on a Hay Bale...

Twas the night before Christmas
and out in the den
The cat was attacking
the lid of a pen

The tree gave a shaking
each time that she lept
and I wrapped my packages
while my family slept

When from the back room
I heard a faint hum
I swallowed my mouthful
of eggnog and rum

I perked up my ears
and listened once more
then I walked to her room
and I stood at the door

I heard a small giggle
and saw a flash of light
then I opened the door
and I glared at the sight

“If you're texting all night
then Santa won't come.”
She rolled up her eyes
Like I thought she was dumb

“Well you'll wake up your brother
if you don't go to bed.”
“I'm already awake.”
a scratchy voice said.

“Who do you think I was texting?”
My daughter asked me.
“Well you'll wake up your father,
So lights out, on three!”

And I heard the text clicking
As I shut both their locks
Merry Christmas to all
Even the cat in the box...

erm... sack, I mean...

Thing 1 says “Merry Christmas!”

Thing 2 says “Merry Christmas!”

A Boy Toy on a Hay Bale

On the first day of Christmas, your Tartness gives to you…


A Boy Toy on a Hay Bale…

Yes, the song is all worked out… twelve days of Christmas a la Tart… some of them silly, some somewhat serious, and a few… to just enjoy….

I don’t write erotica, or even romance, so this isn’t every day fodder for me, but looking at this pic makes me wonder why the heck NOT, eh? I definitely enjoy some nice eye candy now and again, and it is perfectly suited to the mood of the season. Think how much DISCIPLINE that man has to just pose there in the prickly hay…


And then there is my own real life boy toy…

*scratches head*

I suppose there is a reality-check style of lesson to be had here…

Christmas in the fictional world, and then the variety who follows around the other members of his family moving ornaments because a Virgo can never leave ‘not quite perfect’ alone, even on matters of tree decoration. There is humor and laughter though (right down to his refusal to take off the silly hat—he’s been wearing it since it got cold, even in the house).

We had a nice time tree decorating… the kids and I drinking chai lattes and stirring with candy canes—placing ornaments… the hubby directing.

“There’s an empty spot.”
“No, that one can’t go there.”
“I’m moving that one tomorrow.”


What a study in contrasts… fiction and life. One larger than life, ripped abs and naughty thoughts, one grinning maniacally and reminding all the rest of us what we’ve failed to do on his time frame. At least I managed a present he won’t complain about. That’s not something I take for granted. I think in 20 years of birthday and Christmases and 14 years of father’s days, I’ve only nailed it 2 or 3 times.

I think even when the writing is about the gritty, real life stuff, it is STILL larger than life. Even every day occurrences need to be told more beautifully or more poignantly, or else who would want to read about it. My husband has frequently given me a bad time about my reading choices (I read exclusively fiction) and so I will reiterate my choice… my life has enough reality in it already.


Speaking of Timeframes!

I finished Illusions last night! (my latest WiP) I’m fairly pleased with it… think I will be MORE pleased when I go through the full edit process after book three is done…

I haven’t read a ton of trilogies—Lord of the Rings comes to mind… Bartimaeus was a trilogy… funny that I should have this impression trilogies are so common when I don’t think they actually are, because that is all I can think of. It’s the perfect approach for this story though—900 pages (I have been assured) is too long for a single book, but not only that, there are nice action wind ups in 3 places, and at least the first and second worked out much better with the PoV change.  That said, I think in the trilogies I've read (and seen) the middle is always the hardest... hmmm.... I married a middle child... the most difficult... funny how all these things fall back in on each other...

Now... to decide whether I want to dive straight into book 3 or whether I want to take a week to fill in the holes in my NaNo novel first… the decision comes down to whether I want to say I wrote three whole books this year, or whether I am in a hurry to get done with the trilogy… My greedy answer of course is BOTH… I have a lot more ideas in my head for the third book in the trilogy… I had to outline part of it (in that vague way I do) in order to get past a block on the second, so I have several chapters vividly poking at me, and you KNOW how I like a good poke…



And for those of you who really need a minorly naughty giggle, there is apparently a yearly Dickerdoodle Contest. *snort*

Half Tartiversary To ME!

I had a fairly lengthy debate on what to call it..

Tartiversary
Tartday
Tart Bloggiversary?
Blogday.

I mean CLEARLY a Tartiversary is the best WORD, but does it convey the MEANING? And... as it's only the half...

Six months ago today I began blogging in a mad effort to...erm... what was I doing again? Get my name out there? I suppose the maxim 'the only bad press is no press' is what I was going by... 'Better Infamy than nofamy'? Anyway... at this special (to me anyway) date I wanted to take notice of what has been accomplished so far.

Have I got an agent yet? Erm. No. But I know a whole lot more about the process of GETTING an agent? Or maybe not... If I knew so much, I'd have one. I think though, what I need is to finish my POLISH (again) but then a rewrite of my beginning of CONFLUENCE so it dives in faster. In this skeptical market the powers that be aren't recognizing that it is the TRUE READERS who are still buying books—they want mass appeal for the short attention spanners... my start is too slow. So knowing the problem is half the battle, right? Okay, no... but it is a good 2% of the battle, and I am all over it.

Am I a Household Name? Well... maybe in a house or two, though I suspect those are the people I knew already and most of them are swearing when they say it. But a couple more people think of me when they hear the word Tart. That is something.

Have I taken over the world? THERE, I can solidly say... part of it... Australia is MINE. Well, okay, maybe not mine if you were to ask the average person on the street, but I managed a moment of fame... I'm rather pleased with that. I THINK all I really did was highly praise a highly popular book in a fresh way, but I am STILL getting hits for being quoted on John Marsden's 'Tomorrow When the War Began' sight... granted, I've been recommending this book series for YEARS now (READ THEM!), but the blog is what got me some fame over the matter. I also managed to become the ONLY hit if you put “Naked World Domination Tour” into google—keep the quotes... which proves if ANYBODY is going to be taking the world over through nudity, it is OBVIOUSLY me.

But Seriously

Smear yourselves in Chocolate while we contemplate...

Okay, so maybe only a little seriously... I started, as most do, with NO CLUE. I wrote something. I invited my actual Friends and part of the small network I had on Facebook at the time. I learned a little and began FOLLOWING a few blogs... where I found blogs of successful agents or writers I added TONS of the blogs THEY followed... Commented a little more...


It seems to be working.

My followers are growing-- granted, the JUMPS have corresponded with me doing things like inviting friends, but now and then I spot an unsolicited newbie... each time, I do a naked dance (that is just what a happy nudist does).

The Greater Evidence?

I can follow and add and comment on those I add... but I've discovered a NETWORK... organically developing under the surface... I started blogging, my friends started blogging, we added each other's finds... then 'finds' start finding us (I fell in love just yesterday with a man in touch with his inner princess! You KNOW how I love that! He was a new follower who I then followed and explored what he was writing)... it is the STRANGEST thing. It's like friendship ought to work if we weren't all these weird writer/socially awkward people... Okay, maybe I'm projecting... My online persona... being naked and all... isn't so much awkward as.... erm... screening. People I offend go away--pretty sure of that. Since all my nudity and innuendo eventually finds a lot of silliness, I can only conclude these offended people are NOT my kind of people anyway. (prudes tend to report me to the authorities sooner or later... best just make it clear I AM NOT their people from the start). I think I somehow stay PG most of the time, but... some people are so touchy...

But I feel like the blog progress... hasn't been bad. I'm rather pleased at having my 50+ regular followers and 100+ FB followers at my 6 month anniversary... Sure, it isn't some famous author stumbling upon me and insisting his agent pick me up.  It isn't an agent stumbling across me thinking "what  GENIUS!  I have to read her book!", but it's pretty good progress.

So I am offering cake for all!  And MANY thanks to all my new friends!

Naughty or Nice?

Oh, I see all of you running in here to see the Tart's latest iteration of mischief, but I'm going to give you some actual psychologically grounded food for thought, so how's that? (Aren't I naughty?)

MAN STEALS LOAF OF BREAD

People can look at that and think a lot of different things. In literature, the act could be made sympathetic ages before any psychological theories were out there (Look at Jean Valjean in Les Miserables and both his motivation and the significant consequences). So I want you to think about this.

WHY?

He was hungry.
He was starving.
His family was starving.
He saw some children on the street who were starving.
He saw it as a challenge and wanted to see if he could.
He wanted to show off to his friends.
He was impulsive.
He hated the bread vendor and wanted to cause him problems.
He's in love with the girl selling and wanted her attention.


From WHOM?

The window of a hungry family.
From the donation truck for hungry families.
From a wealthy widow baking loaves.
From a wealthy widow baking loaves for the orphans.
From a wealthy widow after providing her with some much wanted company.
From a street vendor.
From a small shop.
From a national chain.


WHEN and HOW?

At the end of the day when it is mostly stale anyway, he nicks a last loaf unlikely to sell.
When it is first set out for sale, hot fresh and irresistible and it makes his tummy rumble.
When there are dozens of people gathered and it is most daring.
When the vendor turns his back, he nabs it and runs.


There are people who believe it's wrong no matter what—that right and wrong is a matter of black and white (I almost gave them a political affiliation, but stopped myself—wasn't that good?) But most of us think there are circumstances by which stealing is a reasonable offense.  Most of us would attribute different shades of right and wrong, based on the circumstances and motivations of the bread thief.


In Our Writing

I have a long fan fiction up for the 2009 finals at HPANA and was rereading some of it (editing a little) and caught some of the comments recently—I managed a writing coup. The story was about the 'Marauders' (Harry's father and his best friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettygrew) and I wrote their pranks and antics in such a way that the Marauder LOVERS (a large, loyal group of people who adores this bunch—other than Peter, anyway) thought they were funny and fabulous, and the Marauder HATERS (often Snape sympathetics, though I fall into a third group who thought they were ALL boys behaving badly) thought they were horrible, awful people.

Before WRITING this complex group and their antics, I had thought some writers were too forgiving and wrote it all as light fun, and some were too merciless and wrote them as awful. I tried to draw from both my psychology and from some boys I knew when I was a teen, and I think I managed to nail that gray area. How people felt about the Marauders I wrote depended largely on the feelings about 'boys will be boys'. [this group might think the thief above was in his rights if he stole in a very daring manner to see if he could get away with it, though not from starving children—something like that]

So I am trying to use such shades of gray in my more recent books, but it isn't easy. I tend to cut people in dire straights (hungry or backed into a corner) a break but not be very sympathetic to flashy antics for fun. I need to remember though, that some of those mischief makers are sympathetic to part of my readers, and there is nothing better than stirring up a bit of controversy!


And because I can’t bear to disappoint you (though baring is another matter entirely)… a little seasonal naughtiness…

Powerless

[written by hand last night]

Husband was picking up son. Daughter was at practice. And I was editing. Editing, editing, editing (the bane of my existence). That was when it first flickered. I hit save—it’s a reflex because I have no clue how much time my laptop battery is good for, but it’s not a lot. Another flicker.

It happened three or four more times before the lights went out and the house went silent, washer and drying stopping mid-cycle. The computer didn’t complain, oddly, but like I said, no clue how long that would last, so I saved again and shut down.

I came upstairs in the dark, felt along the top of the refrigerator. There is a single, solitary benefit to being married to a smoker—you always have matches, and they are somewhere accessible.

On either side of our dinner table, hanging on the wall, we have hanging candle holders with tapers. They are relatively high and the light reflects against the walls, so they create a fair amount of light. I started with them. Then I lit two at the far end of the room and one in the bathroom.

Then my husband got home with my son.

“Power’s out!” He proclaimed, as if I hadn’t spent the last ten minutes immersed in darkness. He gets this weird glint… a cross somewhere between child and maniac—an unnatural state of excitement that is part fun, part annoying. I did what I always do, rolled my eyes and looked at him as if he’s quite mad.

Fortunately, we have a gas stove top, so reheating the gravy (from a dinner of biscuits and gravy) for my son’s dinner wasn’t an obstacle, nor was following up dinner with tea and cocoa.

My son texted friends for a bit, then his phone started to get wonky. He read for a little, watched part of a TV show on his iPod… but he was antsy.

My husband offered the usual fare, “should we wrestle? I could poke you.”

“No thanks.” (My son’s sarcasm doesn’t translate into print very well, but it was apparent to me.)

And then Mr. Tart hit paydirt… “Wanna play Scrabble?”

I took the flashlight downstairs to find the game, because I’m the only person who lives at my house capable of LOOKING for anything (never mind that it sat on the game shelf in our spare room where I said it would be) and retrieved it.

So my son, husband and I played Scrabble until my daughter got home and said we were a bunch of geeks, but you know what? I thought it was a nice night, even if it put me further behind on my editing and I only got two new pages written.


[written this morning]

The power was on this morning, thankfully (the Tart doesn’t function well with no shower). If that happened with any regularity, it would be hell on my writing career. I really prefer to write in the bath, but we were conserving hot water and my daughter had HAD to shower, as she’d been in a pool. Besides that though, we really only had our front room lit up, so there were too many PEOPLE to be very efficient… write a sentence, hubby talks… write a sentence, daughter demands something. That said, periodic bouts of forced togetherness are really sort of nice from time to time. I think I liked it.

And so you don’t forget where you are, or what day it is (Naked Thursday)… apparently the Urban Dictionary has an entry for Strip Scrabble… and these two people must know it…

'Tis the Season

Oh yeah, I know about the holidays, shopping, baking, decorating, yadda yadda, yadda… but I am talking about IN BOOKS.

You see, I think from my years of reading to my children, I’ve somehow internalized that a book ought to start in the summer, dive into the action in the fall, and go from there.

The problem? I get about 600 pages into my story, it is Christmas time, and all hell is breaking loose. It’s happening again. I’m beginning to wonder if I have some morbid association between violence and Christmas, or whether I’ve internalized the Potterverse so much that I think every final climax ought to happen on Snape’s birthday (January 9, for the uninformed).


Academically Grounded Characters

Harry Potter and Percy Jackson (my two favorite youth series) both have book cycles of the academic year.

When I first began writing CONFLUENCE with an Academic Main Character recruited to a new location, there wasn’t even a different ‘starting time’ I considered. Of COURSE you move for the new academic year. I have one recruitment chapter the spring before, and then start with the move in August.

With LEGACY the logic was a little more about the WHAT than the WHO. One strand… they spy thing… had no necessary timing, but when I had Athena run away from her drug addicted mom to live for months on the street, I wanted to ease her into it… I made it summer so it could be a little easy at first—fountains to clean in, outside all day, no worries about freezing… then a little harder when school starts and she has to stay out of sight during then day, then the progressing cold… I needed her to ‘stay a while’ and feel self sufficient, learn some things, THEN need to find help.

CONFLUENCE is a stand alone book—one giant plot, now 600 pages (nearly 800 as originally written). LEGACY is the first of a trilogy. As I finish the second book, which I’ve changed the name on by the way… currently calling it ILLUSIONS, I am 600 pages into one MAIN story that breaks nicely into 3 sub-stories, each of which stands alone and here we are… action is all going to wind up in January AGAIN.


Seasons in Adult Books

I know some of them HAVE them… it seems like most take place all within a season, or else only recognize this or that holiday. I don’t know if this convention is some rule I don’t know about and I’m breaking it badly?

So I guess I am asking all of YOU.

Do you know of books with an identifiable flow through time?
Do you know of advice that says ‘leave the calendar out of it?
How do you feel about books grounded in a season? Do you even notice?
Do you ever consider the flow of time in specifics? (month, year)

His Perspective

[Author's note:  I wrote this originally four years ago for a Christmas story project we did at Steinbeck Cafe, a now defunct Literary Cafe at HPANA which is where the core of my writing group first became acquainted with each others' non-Potter writing.  It was true then, and still true today.]

“Why does Marc have his lights up already?”
“He probably just wanted to get them up before it was too cold.”
“Well I’m against that.”
“What does it matter?”
“It’s not even Thanksgiving.”
“Thanksgiving is tomorrow, it really doesn’t matter.”
“He shouldn’t have them up yet. It bugs me.”

“What are you doing?”
“Writing a Christmas card letter.”
“Oh God, not one of those tacky things that annoy everyone.”
“They don’t annoy everyone, just you.”
“Well they should annoy everyone, if they knew anything.”

“Who are you sending cards to?”
“A bunch of people.”
“Let me see that list. Who’s Daphne?”
“From graduate school, you remember?”
“No.”
“They came over for dinner that time…”
“Oh, she’s blonde? Why does she need a card?”
“It’s nice to catch up.”
“When was the last time you talked to her?”
“She's one of my Facebook friends.”
“So, you don’t really care.”
“Yes I do. I just don’t have time to keep in touch one on one.”

“Do you really need lights up?”
“It would be nice.”
“Who’s going to do it?”
“Well…I can.”
“No, you’d fall off the ladder.”
“I would not.”
“No, I’ll do it.”

“Hey, you can’t put anything about me in there!”
“It would be weird if I didn’t. You’re my husband.”
“They don’t care about me.”
“Yes they do.”
“No they don’t.”
“They care about me and by extension they care about you.”
“Well it’s none of their business.”
“It would be weird for me to send something with stuff about me and the kids and nothing about you.”
“I don’t care, I’ll throw them all out if you put anything about me.”

“What do you want a family picture for?”
“To put in with the Christmas cards.”
“Well I’m not going to be in it.”
“Why not?”
“It makes me tired.”

“Hey, do you mind if the kids stay up to watch ‘Santa Clause is Coming to Town’ Tonight?”
“Of course I don’t.”
Well, it’s a school night.”
“I know, but it’s part of Christmas.”

“I took a picture of the kids today, you can put that in your silly letter.”
“Thank you.”

“Australia! Who do you know in Australia?”
“A friend of mine from online.”
“Oh god. Another of those geeks. They don’t know where we live do they?”
“It’s only that women’s group. I know them.”
“No you don’t. It could be anybody.”
“Well I know enough about them that I trust them. She’s not coming here from Australia anyway.”
“What’s she look like?”
“Will you stop?”

“What’s all that?”
“Presents for my family. We need to ship them.”
“They don’t need presents. Just send them a card with that picture.”
“This is my family.”
“But why do they need presents?”
“They just do.”
“I don’t think they need anything.”

“Hey, I told you not to write anything about me in these. You have to print all these over.”
“I’m not taking it out. I told you I was putting it in there.”

“Hey, if you’re done I can take those to the post office tomorrow.”

“We’re not getting a tree until all this clutter is picked up.”
“That’s fine, I’ll pick it up.”
“You know there wouldn’t be all these piles if you’d just put stuff away.”
“I’ll pick it up.”
“You know it would be easier if you just put things where they go in the first place.”
“I heard you. I will pick it up.”
“I don’t think we’ll get a tree.”
“I’d like you to go away now.”

“You need to pick up all that stuff in our room too.”
“Oh stop it. You can’t change the rules when I’m almost done. I’m picking up the living room.
“No, I don’t think we’ll get a tree.”
“I am almost done.”
“No you’re not, what about that pile over there.”

“Have you finished shopping for the kids?”
“Mostly.”
“Well you don’t have much time.”
“I know.”
“When do you plan on going?”
“I was hoping Sunday.”
“Oh no. You had the car all last weekend. We’re not getting a tree then.”

“Who are these people?”
“It’s my dad’s sister and her husband.”
“And what do they want?”
“It’s a Christmas card.”
“Oh god, not one of those things.”
“It lets everyone know what they’ve been doing.”
“Why do we care?”
“It’s nice to catch up.”
“Why don’t they just call people?”

“Kids! The Grinch is on!”

“Okay, so everyone get your shoes on, I thought we’d go get a tree. I want a Noble Fir.”
“They don’t grow Noble Firs in Michigan.”
“Well that’s what I want. Next year we’re buying a fake tree.”

“How long are you going to be in here?”
“I’m just making candy. It’s faster than cookies.”
“Well you better be done soon. I need to make dinner.”
“I know, it only takes 20 minutes or so.”
“You need to clean up too.”
“I know.”

“You know you need to check all those lights.”
“I already did.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“Hey, those big ornaments can’t go up that high. Little ones go up high, the bigger ones go lower.”
“Will you stop, what does it matter?”
“It’s not how its done.”
“Look Martha, nobody is grading our tree.”
“Don’t put those together, they're the same. Spread them out a little.”

“You missed a spot. There are no ornaments back here.”
“There are too.”
“And you can’t use that one, it’s tacky.”

“That card for your cousin came back. Don’t you know where he lives?”
“He just moved. I found out yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you just address it to ‘Butterball’ in Idaho. It would have gotten there.”
“Will you not pick on him? He’s a nice man. I don’t care if you pick on the family that is rude to you--there are plenty to choose from, but I wish you would be nice to the nice people.”
“Who says I have to be nice?”
“The world would be a better place if everyone tried to be nice.”
“Oh geez.”

“I miss dad.”
“I know honey, I wish we lived closer.”

“Merry Christmas, honey. I’m sorry I get so stressed out.”
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”

[on another note:  The Australian friend DID in fact show up at our house two summers ago--invited, of course.  This year Marc across the street died, and my husband actually put up his own lights before Thanksgiving.  I think it may have been a tribute.]

Value Added

I've been plugging along, doing the things I think I ought to be doing (not to mention a few I know I shouldn't, because that's what MAKES a tart, after all) and have had a couple odd outcomes of late... Let me e'splain...

NAKED AUSTRALIANS

Okay... not necessarily, but last Wednesday I wrote Murderous Musings, about literary murder not from the perspective of the victim, crime solvers or families, but from the murderer. I claimed my favorite literary murder was committed by Ellie in the series Tomorrow When the War Began (and it's true).

Yesterday I was looking at where my blog readers had been referred from... first map, then site, because that is the geeky kind of thing I do... The map (starting Saturday night actually) had more hits that usual from Australia. Now I have Australian friends, several of them (I ADORE the Aussies— humor and good nature seem to be more prevalent there for whatever reason—not that I don't find funny, happy people elsewhere, I've just never run across a BAD seed from down under). But this was a lot... and it wasn't just the Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide contingent. Perth. Tasmania (hey—do you suppose the Tasmanian devil is reading my blog?!) Possibly Canberra... The nudist movement was spreading.

And then I spotted it. http://www.tomorrow-movies.com/2009/12/best-murder-in-literature-ellie/

I'd been quoted... Now I like to be quoted. It makes me seem important and intelligent. And I'm delighted to be quoted and find out by accident, because that means my nefarious plan at world domination is working. But this is the FAN SITE for author John Marsden and his works, which are apparently being turned into a MOVIE series... so this is a place with I would guess at least hundreds, if not thousands of readers.

Now the discussion following the presentation of MY BLOG was largely that there are more impressive (moving) murders in the series... true—these are kids in a war, and being guerilla warriors takes practice—they get better at it (and make some real screw ups of it) but that first participation in the war PSYCHOLOGICALLY SPEAKING was the biggie... at least that's how I read it.

Anyway, I had 80 people visit yesterday, about 80% of them new. That is my biggest day ever... I was tickled, thrilled and possibly goosed by the event.

Editing Lessons

And THEN on a completely separate note... My writer's group has OFTEN shared chapters. I've given my fair share of feedback. And I peer review at work—this is not a new experience. But recently I've gotten two full books in genres I don't write to give feedback. I'm finding that I like the puzzle of 'what's missing that could make this better' a lot, and that it is definitely easier to notice things in a work I haven't been slaving away on for months.

What I DIDN'T expect is that when I come back to CONFLUENCE, the work I am currently trying to polish, my objective eye seems to come with me. I feel like this exercise that I only thought of as good citizenship, is actually a good one for my own work. Other writers have different strengths and weaknesses that may be easier to spot than our own because... hey, if they were easy for us to spot, we wouldn't have written them, eh?

I just love it when there is an unanticipated perk...

Classics Revisited

There's been a cover done of Careless Whisper... 89X (my metal and alternative choice out of Detroit) plays it on the radio with some regularity. I am totally digging it. You see, though Wham was a band I would have mocked at most points in my life, they actually had a few good songs and I happened to OWN that album

(yes children, ALBUM—you see, it was 1984, and I took my RECORD PLAYER to college with me)... and the man in the record store in Eugene made me have really illicit fantasies, so I used whatever excuse I could to go in there. But I digress...

It got me thinking about 'remakes' and 'rewrites'. Some classics are so well done that frankly, it's a shame to alter them, while some only benefit from a modernization. I think it's true across art forms, actually, and I think it is worth thinking about.

Music

Back to this Careless Whisper example (Seether's Shaun Morgan in drag *claps* I knew I loved them...): Wham was pop music at its pretty boy, cheesiest best. The remake is full-on metal. In fact they've taken some guff for covering Wham. But to me it makes the reinterpretation fresh. It's possible I'm the freak that both loved Wham, and prefers heavy metal—metal being something people are supposed to give up when they get old... but I'm not old yet...

I think MOST of the current listeners were too young to remember how campy Wham really was—they don't know what most 'aged' metal listeners thought of them (though the DJs seem to). So Seether has pulled off a very clever coup and made it their own. I heard another similarly revised cover yesterday to Annie Lennox's Sweet Dreams...

I think the key is to make it different enough from the original that there is some art to it... doing it just like the original is a nice lounge act, but to record, there needs to be some creativity.

Movies

Ditto...I think here though, movies done well the first time really shouldn't be messed with, but maybe that's me. Then again, there are some remakes I like—I'm not a Tom Cruise fan, but I LIKE War of the Worlds. It seems to me usually I like remakes if I'm not familiar with the original, or when the original had several failings.

I also like some reinterpretations—some stories are timeless, and using the main PLOT while changing many of the details can make for a great movie.

So What About Books?

Back when I only wrote in the closet, and didn't talk to anybody about it, I had never even THOUGHT about reinterpreting an existing story. The first book I read that used the technique was Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister by Gregory Maguire. It is a retelling a the Cinderella tale (mostly) from the view of Iris, one of the stepsisters, and is a great book. I've seen several since, and know Wicked is a similarly rewritten Wizard of Oz. My friend Tara, for her NaNoWriMo novel has written a DELIGHTFUL version of Cinderella called Cardiffella, and I really think she can make a go of it. The fresh spin and modernization are perfect, and the references to the fairy tale are tongue in cheek and humorous.

So I'm going on record saying... for ALL of them... if it is a fresh interpretation, it can be a great route for a new version. That's my story and I'm sticking with it...

Chaos Reigns

A warning for all you parents out there (or future parents). If you don't stomp the creativity out of them early, you may reach a time when they think they can do things for themselves. This should be avoided at all costs.

My daughter asked me not too long ago if she could paint her room and I said, “I just painted it. Absolutely not.” (and I did, about 3 years ago—a paint job ought to last 7 or 8, I figure) She said, “I'll do it.” I have remained a skeptic (with good reason, as it has taken her about nine months just to get the crap cleaned off her floor so we could move the furniture to the center).

But today is the day.

As recently as last night I was still in denial it would happen. She wanted me to help her clean (no thank you, that was part of the deal—MOM IS NOT PARTICIPATING. MOM IS AGAINST THIS PROJECT)-- okay, I helped a little. I'm sort of a soft touch. This morning we moved some furniture and then went to buy the paint... then, as noon approached, her friends started showing up to help.

I've had to do the things like removing curtain rods and her coat rack (and I sanded because the LAST time I painted the coat rack wasn't removed, so the paint had gooped).

And my daughter has gotten periodically distracted (which drives my husband CRAZY)--she had to stop her process for a while and pain the coat rack (formerly pastel, now a hip black). But the four girls cleaned the walls in record time and I don't see any TSP accidents, so they must have followed my instructions (I think I scared them when I told them it was a mild acid, so to be careful).

They ate pizza while the walls dried and then taped. And now they paint...

My husband has left the building. He can't cope with a living room full of furniture that belongs in another room. He did entertain the girls while they ate though... He does a great Mrs. Kravitz impression.

The coolest digression thus far is the praying mantis we found between her window and the outside screen (I'd never seen one in 'natural habitat' before—it's probably been eying our cat). (that would be the neighbor's pool, shut down for winter behind him)

And then... some Tartish advice, since I finally uploaded the pictures from Mari's visit...







This just in... mom had to go in and do about 1/3 of the cut in from the ceiling.... there is paint on the floor, though thankfully not MUCH (we'll need to have them refinished before we sell anyway, should we ever decide to do that).  But my assessment is that I will spend tomorrow helping with coat two, because four fourteen year olds aren't quite up to 'even coverage' (or really even coverage) but I think she's learned how much more work this is than she thought, so that is something.  Natalie's frustrated that her friends turned out to be fair weather help... very involved for all of 20 minutes or so, and then sat on her bed chatting while she worked...

Well… Technically…

I’m reading a pretty good book right now… It’s called The Flander’s Panel by Arturo Perez-Reverte. It’s about an art restorer who discovers a secret message in a painting that is the key to a 500-year old murder, and I am LOVING it. But it has got me thinking (always dangerous). How does one navigate material that can’t be taken for granted as part of the reader knowledge base?


Reader Intelligence

I would surmise that most avid readers are pretty smart… and most anyone who reads for pleasure AT ALL, is at least of moderate intelligence. Idiots don’t LIKE books. [note: not EVERYONE who doesn’t like books is an idiot, but the other direction is inevitably true] That said, there are a LOT of forms intelligence can take. There are math brains (like mine), art brains, language brains, wonky twisted brains (I would argue here that I have twisted INTERESTS but that my brain doesn’t work in particularly twisted ways).


Reader Expertise

And then we all have things that… we’ve just been EXPOSED to… I have expertise in a few odd areas because of jobs I’ve had, people I’ve known, things I’ve read about… These areas of expertise don’t have a darned thing to do with each other (white water rafting, advertising, microbrews, downhill skiing, astrology, Harry Potter…) They just make up the fiber of my experiences and prove I’ve been paying attention as I live my life.

Well SOME people, have expertise in areas that need… more expertise… Music for instance… history, knowledge about PLACES… For me this expertise is probably in psychology—something I use in my writing, but I tend to use it to inform personality, motivation, and relationships rather than explicitly (NaNo novel notwithstanding).

Reader Interest

Most readers are willing to learn a little something when they read. In fact I’d argue that any book that doesn’t make me think in SOME form or other is fluff… not that I dislike fluff, but I try to make a point of not reading ONLY fluff. It is a different kind of enjoyment and I honestly like the books better that have some substance… teaching me something is one form that substance can take (the others being deep emotional or intellectual involvement or philosophical questions). But what?

I have to say, there are just some things I don’t want to learn. Tom Clancy’s mechanical workings of submarines, boats, weapons? *yawn* I can’t stomach them, which makes STORIES that could be great (love the movies of his books) into BOOKS I can’t read. I’ve heard similar assessments of the genetic details in Michael Crichton’s Jurassic Park. Now I haven’t read that, but I’ve read a few of Crichton’s novellas and personally, I felt the detail was FINE… so see? It is PROBABLY that I have an interest in biology or genetics, (especially layered on conspiracy theory) but not on mechanics… they are equally complicated, I know equally little about them, but one I am willing to learn, the other I am not.

I would argue both of these (GREAT) authors have lost readers over their technical inclusions, but they have probably also GAINED readers who THRIVE on that stuff (and it adds credibility, so may be necessary to the stories on some level)… but how does one draw the line? What thrills one, might alienate others… the goal seems to be finding the balance in which the largest number is pleased…

My Meandering Conclusions

I think Perez-Reverte has drawn the line well… his story required expertise in art, history, and chess to write. He has different characters who are invested in the story each have different expertise. The heroine is an art restorer… she knows the art angle… but she is working for an auction house in order to help a man sell the painting, so she has logical people to explain things to in more common terms.

The murder mystery requires history knowledge (which an expert tells her) and chess expertise (so they’ve just found someone to explain). I will learn about ALL of these things and the narrator never once has to step out of the story to tell me because the STORY is playing out in a way that tells me. It’s brilliant. And I believe it is brilliant because I’m not sure I could otherwise MUSTER interests in some of these subjects… what I am invested in, is solving the murder, and so am learning as part of that process…

I guess I just found it good food for thought.

Naked Nudge

I had a more substantial post planned today… well, when I say planned, I mean I’d picked a topic… but then I realized… IT’S THURSDAY!!!! And you know what Thursday is!

So though there are already nudists among you, I felt my best use of time would be in providing you with some of the arguments for Nudity.



Reasons to be a Nudist

Freedom of Nudity Category
A little breeze around ones privates leaves us feeling FRESH!
You will never again catch your skirt on the wheel of your chair.
No embarrassing dresses tucked into the tights after a trip to the bathroom.
Easier to be one with the elements.
Nobody will bum you for change.
Try skinny dipping… Nothing better.

Evils of Clothing Category

Clothing is itchy
Clothing is binding
Clothing costs MONEY
Clothing has to be WASHED (oh sure, so does skin, but you do that even with clothes)
If you wear an item of clothes it has to be MATCHED to other items! (what a hassle)
You’ll never again suffer people mocking your clothes!
Clothing has become a cog in the capitalist consumerism agenda—REBEL!

Superior Friends Category
Naked people are nicer.
Nudists don’t try to one-up each other in material ways.
Up-tightism is nearly unheard of among nudists.
It’s really hard to be mean when you’re naked, so it almost never happens.

General Category
It really only bothers uptight people, and they are better off bothered anyway.
They’re taking over the world anyway. Don’t you want to be perceived as a LEADER?
What could be more green?! [<-Interrobang]
It’s the END of judging a book by its cover.
It’s MORE FUN!

Excuses to Offer to Others
“My clothes got wet, so I had to hang them to dry.”
“I ran out of clean laundry.”
“My dog ate my clothing.”
“I’m trying to help you relax. This way you don’t have to IMAGINE me naked.”
“With the pay freeze, I decided this was the best way to cut back.”
“They were RIGHT! Idiots CAN’T see them!”
“They’re just invisible.” “Did you miss the nudist day memo?”
“Come on! All the cool kids are doing it!”

Now if you’ll excuse me… I have detention…

Murderous Musings

I killed someone last night. Well, not me exactly, but my character. And it wasn’t murder either. There would be a strong case for self defense… if, of course she wasn’t in an awful hurry and likely to try to cover the darned thing up so she can get to the things she urgently needs to get to. It got me thinking…


To Kill or Not to Kill

I’ve been thinking about things like… genre… lessons… character changes… In all of life, there is probably nothing larger, short of dying ourselves, than killing, yet it is all over the media—TV, movies, news… and yes… books. .


The Genre Question

Mysteries typically need a murder, but you know something funny? They don’t often have one. What they have is more often, a BODY (or a few). The deed has been done… off screen… even when it happens in real time, the person whose perspective we are getting typically stumbles upon it after the fact—oh sure, sometimes in gruesome detail, and some of the murderers are twisted freaks, but it is a step removed because the focus is SOLVING the murder.

Romance doesn’t have it… Chicklit is pretty devoid of it… I guess I’ve seen some in Sci Fi and Fantasy, but because those are removed from reality, it sometimes seems… well… removed from reality.

I think the place we actually SEE it in literature—less removed from reality, is in thrillers… which I suppose is why I’ve come to this point. CONFLUENCE was mainstream… too much character and relationship stuff to be a straight thriller, even though that is the closest genre, were I to be forced to choose one, underlying the plot. But the trilogy I’m writing is definitely thriller material. They are faster paced and more about twists and turns… I mean sure… there is character there, that’s who I am, after all… but it is more story intensive.


Best Murder in Literature

There are an awful lot to choose from and I have by no means read every book in existence, but my favorite murder in literature was committed by Ellie in Tomorrow When the War Began. Why? Because it truly and deeply changed her and how she looked at herself. Her sense of right and wrong underwent intense scrutiny. She was a leader of sorts, however unofficially, of a group of teens when Australia has been invaded by an enemy. She and her friends are running for their lives, being chased by people who are shooting… she devises a simple explosive out of a riding lawnmower, and guess what… it works. She and her friends are safe. The book, wisely, instead of glorifying her success in keeping her friends safe, sends her into a tailspin about the enormity of this one event—the change it makes of her. It was incredibly moving, and one of the reasons I love the series so much. Something like that WOULD change a person. But it doesn’t make them a monster—she was forced into doing something awful, but arguably for the right reason. It doesn’t remove her humanity. I think this is true of more murders in the world than it is NOT true for. Murder is more often done by loved ones for a reason—murderers aren’t all heartless psychopaths, but people who either get into really messed up reasoning, or people who feel they are forced into something.

How does that inform me? I have a heartless psychopath in this series… he kills a father of three in chapter one of the first book. At the end of the first book there is another murder, this time by someone whose motivations are harder to pin down, but it is… shall we say ‘necessary’. Book two though, I am beginning to explore the ‘forced into it’ and the ‘head messed with into it’ scenarios and it is making me a little light-headed. It’s fun stuff to delve into… powerful to write, and hopefully, powerful to read.


Lessons?

Ellie got hers, and I think given that she was in a war situation… and a teen… that was the right course. I think there are genres where this is the right way to go, and genres where it isn’t. My current suspicion, though I haven’t written it yet, is that in my own thriller, the murder in self defense has an impact, but is not dwelt on… the brain-washed come murderer though? He’s going to have some baggage to deal with… unless I leave him brain-washed… BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

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!