Today as I was preparing to leave to take some things to my husband, my daughter looked at me and said, "You look like Lorelai Gilmore."

I'll take that as a compliment.

Thanks to Larissa for this one!

You are a GRAMMAR GOD!

If your mission in life is not already to
preserve the English tongue, it should be.
Congratulations and thank you!

How grammatically sound are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

:: how jedi are you? ::

Thanks (or unthanks, depending on how you look at it) to Yankeebob for this one.

(Edited to add: Sadly, though it's showing up in the entry creation, that cute little square that tells my Jedi results doesn't seem to be showing up. In case it's not showing up for you, either, mine says: i am ... yoda the wisest master of all ... 900 years old and still fuck you up, i can)

Hmph. Millie Jericho, here.

Lynn doesn't work on my story? Fine. Then I'm going to show you my first action scene. I keep telling Lynn she should beef up the action stuff on this story, but she says no. Hell, I could be Catwoman, wear one of them leather suits. I've still got a body. Besides, the leather'll hide the wrinkles. And who says Catwoman can't use a walker?

Rather than responding, he leaned in to capture her lips——give her that reward.

THWAP!

“Shit!” Chad’s hand flew to the back of his head, checking for blood. At the same time, he turned to see who’d hit him.

“Ain’t you got a lick of sense, boy?” Mrs. Jericho stood behind him, one hand on her hip, the other brandishing her weapon of choice. A large, lime green umbrella.

Ignoring Dakota’s snicker, he looked the old lady in the eye. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Mrs. Jericho harrumphed and turned to the lady standing next to her. “Thanks for the loan, Rose,” she said, handing the umbrella over.

Bracing her arms on the sides of her walker, she leaned in toward him and looked as menacing as a little old lady in thong underwear could. “Just trying to beat some sense into you.”

Dakota’s elbow caught him in the back, and he lurched a step toward Mrs. Jericho before he caught himself. He threw a quick, stern look over his shoulder before addressing the old lady again. “I need sense beat into me?”

“You do.” She nodded. “Where’s your brain, swappin’ spit with that poor young lady of yours in the middle of the street? That’ll get her a bad reputation in this town right quick, and you don’t want her getting no bad reputation.”

Then she leaned to the left to look around him at Dakota, who still stood behind him. The old lady’s eyes twinkled as she winked at his fiancée. “I’ll take care of you, lamb chop. You just leave it to Millie.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dakota said.

“Millie, dear. Millie.”

“Millie, then.”

“Well, Millie-” Chad said. The old lady cut him off.

“That’s Mrs. Jericho to you, stud muffin.”

Dakota burst out laughing behind him while Mrs. Jericho’s eyes continued to twinkle. Chad had to get them away from the old lady soon, or she’d probably start waxing poetic about knowing somebody who’d changed Chad’s diapers when he was a baby.

“Well, Mrs. Jericho,” he said, “we need to get going.”

“Fine, fine. You kids run along,” she said. “But you,” she pointed a long finger at Dakota, “come by my house tomorrow. I’ll put some meat on that scrawny little body of yours.” She turned her attention back to Chad. “Don’t you feed this poor little thing?”

He reached back and grabbed Dakota’s hand. “We were about to head over to the funnel cake booth now.” Pulling Dakota to stand next to him, he flashed Mrs. Jericho a smile that was sure to charm her.

It didn’t work.

“Funnel cakes?” she screeched. “That won’t do. That won’t do at all. Didn’t your momma teach you nothing?” She shook her head. “Your girl there needs real food. Good, Southern food. Both of you come by for lunch tomorrow. I’ll feed you both.”

“We’ll be there, Millie,” Dakota said, smiling. “And together, you and I will teach this young buck,” she punched Chad in the shoulder, “all about proper Southern manners.”

Mrs. Jericho studied them a moment, then gave a quick nod of her head. “That’ll do. Yup, that’ll do just fine. Now, you two run along. I thought I saw that old biddy Edie Smalls heading this way. I’ll keep her busy while you two hide.”

She dismissed them with a wave of her hand then turned and headed down the street, her walker scraping along the sidewalk as she moved.

I was watching "I, Robot" last week, and behind one of the opening scenes what should I hear but Stevie Wonder's "Superstition". My reaction? I have got to get a copy of "Songs in the Key of Life"!

I received an Amazon.com gift certificate as a Christmas gift from one of my CPs, so I motored on over to buy it. Didn't get "Key of Life", but I did order "The Definitive Collection". (I think that's what it was called). I'll get "Key of Life" later.

Hmm. Wonder if Jackson's a Stevie Wonder fan? I'll play the CD for him when it arrives and see what he says.

On the writing front, I've almost finished the first chapter of Jackson's story. Just one scene to go! I posted the first two scenes for my CPs--not for critiques, but just impressions. Although they agreed the story so far is a bit darker than my recent work, the subject matter and characters require it, so it works.

Haven't even looked at BMO. Haven't been in that lighthearted mood that particular story requires. And I must say, I think Millie Jericho's a little upset with me.

(Millie's Note: Upset? BAH! I'm . . . torqued. Is that the right term? I'm not getting any younger over here!)

click click click click damn

This is what has marked my Christmas holiday.

click click click click damn

Remember the old Rubik's Cube? Santa brought my daughter one for Christmas this year.

click click click click damn

First my daughter tried it. Got frustrated. Then my stepdaughter tried it. She got frustrated too.

click click click click damn

My husband used to brag about how easy this thing was to solve. How he and his friends had the thing down. Now he's faced with "putting his money where his mouth is." But there's no money involved. Just my quiet snickers as I hear the noise pattern over and over and over.

click click click click damn

Apparently, the Rubik's Cube isn't as easy as he remembers. He's been dealing with it for three days now with no end in sight. At least, I don't see one.

click click click click damn

At least it's entertaining.

Just in case I don't get back online to send out Christmas wishes tomorrow, here they are!

My family is due back from NC any moment (they drove up to pick up my stepdaughter), all the presents are finally wrapped, and I have the aching back to prove it! My husband suggested I needed a back brace for when I wrap presents . . . I told him I just needed somebody else to do all the wrapping for me.

I also picked up our Christmas dinner at the Honeybaked Ham Store today. No cooking for us . . . WOO HOO!

I hope everybody has a wonderful holiday!

M E R R Y
C H R I S T M A S ! ! !

One of my crit partners, writing as Eve Jameson, just received a contract offer from Ellora's Cave for her recent submission!

I can barely contain myself!

I'm feeling a bit better today. Got some ambition back. Even pulled out those synopsis crits and read through them without feeling like crying. I'd say that's progress. Definitely progress.

Haven't done any work on BMO, but I did make some changes to my notes for Jackson's story, and actually wrote the first five pages. They turned out a bit darker than I would have liked, and I'm debating whether I should rework them with a lighter hand, or just lighten up from there.

*shrug*

No matter. I'm just excited to have done something.

Thank Larissa for this one:

Your Christmas is Most Like: A Christmas Story

Loving, fun, and totally crazy. Don't shoot your eye out!

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

P.S. Millie, we need to have a talk.

Lynn's out Christmas shopping -- probably cussing all the other drivers on the road -- so I thought I'd sneak in and give this blogging thing a try.

It doesn't look that hard. Not ready for her own blog my bony patoot! These computer things ain't that hard. Just hit the letters down here, and they appear on the screen. Easier than my old typewriter.

Millie Jericho, here. You young ladies can call me Millie. Men can call me Mrs. Jericho. To you potential stud muffins, I'll be honey.

I live in Lynn's head. It's a scary place. Crowded.

I've heard her tell the story of how I came to be -- just popped up out of nowhere. She was writing and I appeared on the page without warning. I like to surprise. Do things nobody expects me to do, even when I'm doing normal mature woman stuff.

Oh, cow patties. She's home. Gotta go.

So, I'm trying to get back into the spirit of things. Things being both writing and Christmas. With the writing thing, I'm trying to convince myself I've just hit a little bump, but the road will smooth out eventually.

With the Christmas thing . . . hell, that's hopeless.

Anyway, in my current story, I have a character. In both senses of the word. She's a secondary character named Millie Jericho, and she informed me last night that she wants her own blog.

Okay, that's not entirely true. Two of my CPs informed me they want to see a blog from Millie. Unforutnately, Millie overheard and thought it was a rockin' idea. (Those are her words, BTW.)

I don't feel like Millie's quite ready for her own blog. She's still trying to get this whole computer thing down. So I agreed to allow her to share mine for a while. God help us all.

A little background: Millie's an old lady-- Sorry. Millie says she's a mature woman. Anyway, she's a mature woman who lives in a little town in South Georgia, and -- hell. I'll just let you read her entrance in the story. You'll get a great feeling for Millie that way. Look for Millie's "help" in this blog in the future!

Then old Mrs. Jericho shuffled up on her walker and smiled at Dakota.

“Don’t you worry none ‘bout them idiots,” her leathery voice told Dakota. “Can’t take change. None of them. Me? I like change. Even started wearing them newfangled thong underwears to prove I’m a modern woman. I spend half the day picking ‘em out of my ass, but if you young people can stand it, I can too.”

Chad couldn’t figure out how Dakota managed to hold a straight face——he had to turn away so Mrs. Jericho couldn’t see him. It worked until she grabbed him by the arm.

“Bet she’s a better lay than that cold fish, Chloe,” she said before winking at him and shuffling away.

The moment the old lady was out of earshot, he looked at Dakota and the two of them burst out laughing.

Maybe it's just a horrible by-product of the holiday season. Who knows. Who cares. The end result is all that matters. And my end result at this very moment is a depression that's rapidly approaching tears.

Does that make me sound like a goofball? Yeah. Probably.

Remember that chapter-by-chapter synopsis I was fighting with? Well, I finally sent it to two of my CPs for critiquing. Got the critiques back. And I've reached a conclusion based on those critiques.

I can't do this. I'm not wired properly for this stupid synopsis thing.

Hence, my depression.

I've sent out a post to all my CPs expressing the fact that since I can't do the synopsis thing, I've no hope of ever being published, so I'm just going to write, enjoy my writing, and quit stressing over the publication process.

I expect my mailbox will be filling with rah-rah, self-help, you-can-do-it posts.

The way I'm feeling right now, I'm not even sure that'll help.

I sure hope this is just because of the holidays.

I was reading over some comments I received on my synopsis draft for IH, and suddenly it came to me. A couple of the people who've read IH in its entirety (in other words, two of my CPs) have made noise about wanting at least two, possibly three, of the minor characters in that book to have their own stories.

Remember that idea I mentioned I was storyboarding recently? The one that came from a recent dream? With a couple of minor tweaks to the idea as it sits right now, it becomes Jackson's story! (Jackson being one of those minor characters, of course.)

I'm so psyched! Now I just need to finish writing BMO so I can start this new one. Unfortunately, that means Eye to Eye (Connel and Braelyn's story) will remain on hold a while longer, but I need to strike while the iron's hot, right?

I've been lazy.

I mean that seriously. Answered a few e-mails this morning, did some Christmas shopping, then came home and curled up with a book. Well, maybe not curled up. More like lounged. Whatever you want to call it, it was comfy.

No writing yet, although I do have an idea for some dialogue between my main characters that involves an in-depth analyzation of the phrase Uh-huh. If I get a chance later, I might actually write it.

I should probably clean my living room first, though.

WOO HOO!

So far, I've written five more pages on BMO! My hero couldn't sleep, went outside to clear his head, and had yet another one-sided argument with his ex. Poor delusional little woman.

I've also snuck in the first signs of something that'll create havoc later in the story. I hope they're subtle enough. The hero misread these signs, but will the reader wonder about them? Will they come to the same conclusion he did?

Who cares? I wrote FIVE PAGES!

insert happy little butt wiggle here

Yup, that ol' writing bug just up and bit me. He's been conspicuously absent for a couple weeks, but it looks like he's back.

So I'm about to pull up BMO and see what I can do to it. Little buggie might be squashed flat as soon as the ms is open, but I'm hoping he survives.

Wish me luck!

If you think that sounds weird, you should have seen these crazy things!

I usually get story ideas from my dreams. Matter of fact, IH came from a dream. So did BMO (the ms I'm currently writing), an unfinished time travel, and a new idea I'm currently storyboarding.

But this takes the cake.

I had an odd dream last night. I won't bore you with all the details, except to say the darned thing was a head-scratcher all around. However, the thing that has me confused were these weird little bulldog bats. They seemed to hang out (no pun intended) on a web in the corner of the back patio of a private school. They had blue mouths, inside and out, dripping blue saliva or blood or something. They were literally little bulldogs (barking and whining ones) with large black bat wings.

I'm sure you can understand why I won't even bother to try to analyze this one. I suppose my subconscious mind thought I needed a major WTF? moment.

That's how I feel today. Just blah.

Finished reading a wonderful book last night, WIVES AND SISTERS by Natalie R. Collins. A wonderful book, but very sad. I actually cried in a couple of spots. Probably not the best book for me to read when I'm already feeling about as interesting as a dead leaf.

I'm now trying to relocate my good humor by reading a Stephanie Plum novel.

Maybe it's the holiday season. One of my CPs reports feeling a lot like I do right now. We're thinking maybe our motivations snuck out together and headed south for the winter. Not implausible, it has suddenly gotten a bit chilly here in Metro Atlanta.

And speaking of the weather, it coule be that, too. Hard to feel motivated when you can't seem to get warm.

I'm thinking about starting up a separate blog for one of my characters. Maybe that'll get me jump started.

While Tony Danza was trading quips with Camryn Manheim on his talk show this morning, I decided to waste some time and browse the 'net. And I came across a couple of interesting editing concepts.

While editing your ms for typos, print it out (because you always catch more mistakes on hardcopy than on a computer screen) and read it from right to left, rather than left to right.

Supposedly, since this is the opposite of what your eyes and mind are trained to do when reading, you should catch more of the typos you wouldn't catch when reading normally.

This made sense to me. I know that when I'm reading my own work, my mind will sometimes read the text as I know it's supposed to read instead of how it's actually printed.

The other tip was to print your ms out in an entirely different format and font from what you've been working in.

The reasoning behind this is your ms will look entirely different from what you're used to seeing, and as a result, will make it easier for you to catch mistakes.

I don't know if either of these tips actually work, but in preparation for my submission of IH next month, I'm going to try both today and see what happens.

You Are Sex On the Beach!

When comes to drinking, you like it to go down smooth. You really don't like the taste of alcohol - just its effect on you. So, you're proud to get drunk on fruity, girly drinks. Because once you're liquored up, the fun begins!

What alcoholic drink are you?

In other words, I didn't freeze it off this weekend. I was hoping, though. I could've used a little less butt.

My daughter played in a soccer tournament this weekend. Saturday morning it hovered in the mid-40's and Sunday in the mid-30's, and I, being a good mom, had my butt planted in a chair on the edge of the field, camera very nearly surgically attached to my face.

Unfortunately, the poor team had some big disadvantages. They normally play with eight players on the field -- the tournament used six players. The poor kids were passing the ball to players who weren't there. Not to mention the other teams there were infinitely better than the competition the team had faced in our county.

The first game was a disaster (and these 8-10 year olds were twice as big as our kids!) second game looked better, and they won their third game.

The good news is they didn't come in dead last, but even if they had, we'd have been proud of them anyway.

So we got home yesterday, exhausted. We've finally recovered -- the kids were in school today, and I had to run around getting medical documentation about the ankle fracture I sustained this past spring.

Now I'm catching up on e-mail and blogging. Keep your fingers crossed that I can get some writing done tonight!

(P.S. Cynthia, if you're reading this, I'm hoping to finish your crit tonight, too.)

Can you see my happy little butt wiggle? I actually got more words on paper. Maybe my dry streak has passed.

It was only a page -- I needed to fill in a little more of my Burn Me Once characters' slow dance. Actually, I was debating either adding to the scene, or deleting it altogether. But when I went back and read the paragraph directly before the scene, I realized I needed that slow dance. It still needs more, but it's taking shape.

Next on the agenda is writing the scene after Chad and Dakota were mooned by that giant, hairy, toothless drummer.