Wootski again

First the contest finalist news and now a full request for my novel from a top agent. Yes! Such is the life of a writer. Our dreams always seem to be pinned on grabbing that next rung of hope, and in my case, I've been given a lot of hope this year--many rungs to climb--and many to get myself tangled up in. To those agents who called me this year and gave me hope, invited me to send them more of my novels, or said they wanted to "work with me," thank you. I appreciate your kindness, critiques, suggestions and the interest you took in me and my work. I hope this agent is the one--the rung that will let me climb aboard the next one. If not, well, at least I'm heading toward the end of the year with another glimmer of hope. Remember, no matter where you are in your goals, hope is the one thing that cannot be taken away from you. As long as you allow yourself to look past the dark times and despondency, and look forward to possibility, you'll be better than okay. You'll get to that next rung. I've obviously been watching too many mushy political ads lately. So props to said agent--may you say yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Woot!

I just found out that I'm again a finalist at WOW! Women on Writing with another one of my short stories. The best part is that all the finalists' manuscripts will be read by Elise Capron of the Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency. I would be beyond thrilled to capture her attention! Okay, I'd sell All of my shoes, and give up bread for the entire year. Did I mention shaving my head? Giving up All bread products AND chocolate? I'm ready. I'm here. My novel is almost ready, too.

It's been a while

Bet you thought I fell into a well (what would I find there?). Well, I didn't, but I did fall into another time zone for eight days. Yes, EIGHT DAYS WITH THE PARENTS. Que music from Psycho, please. Okay, whew. I'm okay. Really. And they are too--1000 miles away with email and cell phones, the perfect scenario. Oh, sure, we had fun, but don't even get me started on all the incidents and scenarios that made me feel like I was 12 again. I didn't get any writing done, either, but I played with the dog, had coffee at Starbucks with my dad, shopped with my mother and generally just left my brain somewhere on my airplane seat. Because if I had dragged my brain along, it would have had opinions and opinions are dangerous at my house, especially when I am being double-teamed. So I spent eight glorious days pretending I was mute. I'm a good nodder, too. Bobble-head, anyone? Finally, kiss, kiss, hug, hug, I returned home to the arms of my hubbie and the disgusted blank stare of my computer. "Where the hell have you been, beyotch? Get back to work." And I'm listening. So how was your summer?

Fantastic. Just. Because it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gujNoTqbwWc

Bored Suburban Moms Seeking Tootsie Trysts?

Tired of the same ole same ole at the pedicure salon? Check this out. Back to work.

Feathers

Have you ever seen a guy in a trillion feathers? Want to? He's not my type--too many feathers--however, I figured I'd put him here anyway in case he's yours. Enjoy.

Jump, Fluffy

This is from an email someone just sent me. The guy's a hero. Please read and scroll down for pictures (although, I couldn't get them to fit perfectly). This one will make you go: awwwww, even if you're in a bad mood.

Something really amazing happened in Downtown Spokane this week and I had to share the story with you. Some of you may know that my brother, Joel, is a loan officer at Sterling Bank. He works downtown in a second story office building, overlooking busy Riverside Avenue . Several weeks ago he watched a mother duck choose the cement awning outside his window as the uncanny place to build a nest above the sidewalk. The mallard laid nine eggs in a nest in the corner of the planter that is perched over 10 feet in the air. She dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks and Monday afternoon all of her nine ducklings hatched. Joel worried all night how the mamma duck was going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy,downtown, urban environment to take to water, which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck hatching. Tuesday morning, Joel came to work and watched the mother duck encourage her babies to the edge of the perch with the intent to show them how to jump off! The mother flew down below and started quacking to her babies above. In his disbelief Joel watched as the first fuzzy newborn toddled to the edge and astonishingly leapt into thin air, crashing onto the cement below. My brother couldn't watch how this might play out. He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs the sidewalk where the first obedient duckling was stuporing near its mother from the near fatal fall. Joel looked up. The second duckling was getting ready to jump! He quickly dodged under the awning while the mother duck quacked at him and the babies above. As the second one took the plunge, Joel jumped forward and caught it with his bare hands before it hit the cement. Safe and sound, he set it by the mamma and the other stunned sibling, still recovering from its painful leap. One by one the babies continued to jump to join their anxious family below. Each time Joel hid under the awning just to reach out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall. The downtown sidewalk came to a standstill. Time after time, Joel was able to catch the remaining 7 and set them by their approving mother. At this point Joel realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey. They had 2 full blocks to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs, and pedestrians to get to the closest open water, the Spokane River

The on looking office secretaries then joined in, and hurriedly brought an empty copy paper box to collect the babies. They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval, and loaded them up into the white cardboard container. Joel held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood. He then slowly navigated through the downtown streets toward the Spokane River , as the mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight.

As they reached the river, the mother took over and passed him, jumping into the river and quacking loudly. At the water's edge, the Sterling Bank office staff then tipped the box and helped shepherd the babies toward the water and to their mother after their adventurous ride.

All nine darling ducklings safely made it into the water and paddled up snugly to mamma duck. Joel said the mom swam in circles, looking back toward the beaming bank workers, and proudly quacking as if to say, 'See, we did it! Thanks for all the help

China cabinets r us

Okay, I'm in the market for a china cabinet and I'm not having much luck. Why? Because A. I either I find garbaaaaaaaage, or B. pieces that require ten mortgage payments and a kidney. What about in-between, dear, darling Furniture Sales Industry? Where is MY furniture? I'm not dripping in money, but I can spend a bit, yet my dollars do not seem to be able to find a home. Yes, you heard that correctly. I can't find anyone to take my money. It's amazing. Amazing. How, how, how does the furniture industry stay afloat beyond making crate-like, zero-personality pieces for the masses and selling them through stores that advertise via really dumb, loud commercials on TV? And while I'm ranting, please stop with the snotty attitudes. You sell furniture. Well, if anyone from the furniture industry ever reads this, thank you for saving me thousands of dollars. Does Target make china cabinets?

Bears

I just realized there are bears in my area. I don't mean living next door, but within the general vicinity. I had no idea, but I found this website where people post sightings of them. Well neat, but I don't want to run into one obviously. For some reason this is on my mind. Does it have anything to do with the stock market's ups and downs? Don't think so. Just a weird fact. Should I put a bear in my novel? Maybe I need more sleep so I stop obsessing about things. Tomorrow--the alligator post.

Title Conundrums

At Borders today I had a shock that many novelists often face, but never like, especially when they're still struggling. I found a newly released children's book with the *same* title as my YA manuscript--CICADA SUMMER. The book looked adorable, the story sounded fascinating, albeit the target audience was much younger than mine and the story far lighter. Still, I wanted to slash my wrists and die. I realize the Literary Police aren't going to hunt me down, but it seems the title is symbolic of one of its themes, just as in my novel, and now--now I'm deathly afraid that if I do get my book published, this writer will think I somehow stole part of her idea, when of course I didn't. How can this happen, and what if, when I shop the manuscript to agents, they think I did something under-handed? I feel guilty and I don't even know why. I'm worrying about what to do--beyond killing my novel and myself, that is. That's all for today. Time for some chocolate and a bottle of tequila.

My big fat greek slumber party

On the Bachelorette last night, Deanna Pappas cut her options down to two. Two men vying for her heart. Twenty-three others left in the dust, or more appropriately, be grateful you're NOT the one, guys, because this lady is one demanding wench. I know it's just a show, but as a writer it's great fodder for how people really behave when they are up for their fifteen+++ minutes of fame. Many are jerks, and I'm afraid our bachelorette tonight was the biggest jerk of all, especially to the those whose hearts she'd chewed up and vomited all over the TV screens (or maybe it's best just to think of her behavior as benificent). And they said Leona Helmsley was mean. Well, this one's short. I'm still pondering her behavior and very shiny orange spray tan. Someone who uses the spray, please tell me how it works? The concept befuddles me because don't you make a mess of your house? It would be all over my floor, ceilings, walls, in my eyes, and on my cat. I prefer the lotion type. But that's for another post.

I'm not a figment of my imagination

Yay. After weeks of crickets (chiiiiiiiirp), the requests are back. I'm still waiting to hear about the five full manuscripts and six partials that are out, but I'm really feeling hopeful that my luck is turning again. On top of this, I'm a finalist at Women On Writing or WOW with a short story that's being judged by agent, Wendy Sherman, then on another website, an essay that I had slap-dashed together just received an honorable mention. Meanwhile, my wip is coming along better than I'd expected. Writing a YA verse novel offers more freedom than writing adult novels in so many ways. It also has me thinking about how to tighten up each and every line of dialogue and scene. The problem is: Today is Saturday, which means DB aka as Mr. Hunkers is home and I'm going to be distracted. I don't know why, but whenever he's home my focus goes into hibernation. Well, not this weekend. This weekend, I'm getting some serious writing done, period. I'll let you know how it goes. Have a great weekend.

Is this mike on?

Hello everyone and welcome to my blog.

I feel like the new girl at school, and have to figure out what to blog about, but I'll get the hang of it. In a way, blogging feels like karaoke, or however you spell that cozy ancient tradition of getting wasted in a bar and wailing away into a microphone like you're one of the Davids.

Anyhow, I'm off to think...

Oh and if you're wondering about the Apple Country part in my title let me explain. I live in a town that worships the apple, and I don't mean the one that Jobs built. I mean the fruit. Orchards are everywhere. Signs hang and invite you to go apple-picking and make pies, juice, cider, sauce because when you're in my town, you're in... say it with me now--Apple Country.

'Tis all. I promise the next post will have something interesting to say/vent/bitch/whine/gush about.

Or maybe it won't. Meh.