Since the holidays are upon us, I thought it might be time for my annual list of:
Ten Things I Do Not Want for Christmas
Assembly Required Objects: I no longer have the ambition, patience or motor skills to fit together nine hundred pieces of chipboard with a thousand little screws that require a special tool that inevitably is missing from the package. Even if it means I can't have a Darth Vader-shaped bookcase (and why would you think I'd want that? Batman is my guy.)
Books That Are Not Books: This includes but is not limited to book safes, book boxes, book-shaped book ends, shelves, stands for other books -- look, I know I love books, but the reading kind, people.
Diet Products: I don't use them. I lost thirty pounds because I became more active, watched my portions and stopped snacking. That's it and that's all I'm doing next year. Heartless of me, I know.
Faux Fur Purses: You don't think they're creepy?
Hairdo Tools: I do not crimp, straighten, curl or blow dry my hair. I wash it and towel/air dry it. If this makes me a cave woman, so be it. I still have more hair than most women my age, so I must be doing something right.
One-Cup Coffee Makers: Sorry, tea drinker. Also, I think they're too expensive, the cup things are weird and (unless you're single or the only coffee drinker in the house) using them is a bit selfish.
Political Junk: Please take your soapbox out of my face and my holiday, thank you.
Satin PJs: If I have to explain this to you, you're too young to know why.
Singing Ornaments: I have about ten million ornaments already, but with my hearing problems when they activate while I'm alone I think someone is in the house with me. I then run out of the house, peer in the windows, debate on calling 911 and generally behave like an idiot. Save me from myself and my lousy eardrums, will you?
What don't you want for Christmas? Let us know in comments.
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humor. Show all posts
Monday, December 12, 2016
Monday, September 12, 2016
Offline Endeavors Ten
Ten Things I Did While on HiatusAnger Management: It took awhile, but I channeled my temper in some positive directions, resolved an ugly, toxic personal situation without responding in kind, accepted that which I will never be able to change, and generally walked the Serenity Prayer path every step of the way. Sometimes you really do have to turn it over to your higher power, and I did. If you're ever at the same crossroads, this is a good way to go.
Baby Bunny Rescue: While my guy was doing the lawn he accidentally uncovered a nest of three tiny baby bunnies about a foot away from our back porch. The babies were so small you could literally hold them in the palm of your hand. Because of the damage to the burrow, and the threat of our dogs (who then knew exactly where it was) we couldn't leave them where they were, so we put them in a carrier. My daughter and I then drove for an hour through a pretty hellacious storm to get them to a volunteer at a regional wildlife sanctuary. This place will care for them until they're old enough to be released back into the wild.
Best. Zen. Revenge. Ever.: This also took some time, but I straightened out all the contract headaches caused by the fake reviews posted for a story I never wrote on that site I'm never again going to mention by name here (this to keep away Googling trolls.) In the process I sold translation rights for two stories that I actually did write and made a nice pile of money. These earnings will pay for a big chunk of my kid's school expenses this semester. So in the end the mess turned into something terrific for me, and very helpful for my college kid.Edited Stuff: I finally got the chance to edit and post the final version of my Just Write novella Ghost Writer, which you can read, download, print out and share with friends for free by clicking here.
Flying Solo: I handled my first major contract negotiation with a publisher in another country; this without an agent or anyone helping me. I'd say I did very well, and oddly enough the universe did not collapse. Who knew?
Road Trip: My family took me to a beautiful little fishing village on my birthday, where we spent the day walking around and taking pictures and having fun together. Being with my crew and recharging my creative batteries is the best way to spend any birthday.
Sewed and Created My Brains Out: All the time I usually spend on the blog went toward sewing for fun and getting a jumpstart on my holiday projects. I made tons of pillows, taught myself the basics of silk ribbon embroidery (still need a lot of practice, but wow, really a cool way to embellish), designed and pieced a queen size quilt, and pattern-pieced a lap quilt, embroidered a silk needlebook with a lace jellyfish on it as a tribute to my birthday trip (see pic below), and even rehabbed an old Victorian photo album into an art journal. I also made a new and extremely creative, inspiring friend, and tried some stuff I've never done with vintage fabrics, silk and reclaimed wool. Basically eight weeks of creative bliss.
Slow-Cookery: One of my birthday gifts was a beautiful multi-function slow cooker that also steams rice, makes yogurt and even bakes cheesecake. It really does just about everything but set the table for me. I then found a slow-cooker recipe book at BAM, and I'm trying a new recipe every week. This will come in handy this winter, too, when we want more substantial meals.Spruced Up: Another nice thing I did for myself was to clean up and clear out my spare bedroom and office. I'm now working on the closets in both rooms, which are way overloaded with stored stuff I'm probably never going to use again. Everything we don't want to keep will be donated to Goodwill or the Families in Distress shelter, as applicable.
Wrote: About 100K altogether for the clients, but also some poetry and lots of journal entries. I also finally cleaned out the last of my e-mail accounts.
I am still working on a few things yet to be decided, finalized, etc., but all things considered my two point five months away were very productive. My next post will be on this Friday, the 16th, at which time I'll explain more of what's ahead and everything that will be changing with PBW.
So what's been going on with you all? Did you miss me, or was it a nice vacation for you, too? Anyone read some great books? Publish their own? Please catch me up in comments.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
One Last Laugh
This is something I wrote when Jericho was only a few years old. It still cracks me up.
My Cat's New Year's Resolutions
1. I will not catch lizards. If I do, I will not eviscerate them on my human's bed pillow.
2. I will not cough up hair balls on my human's prized 1940 Dresden fan quilt.
3. When my human enters the kitchen, it is not always to get me Pounce treats. I will be understanding about this.
4. I will kiss my human before I wash my butt.
5. I will not grab my brother in a stranglehold and pretend to tear out his throat in front of my human's guests.
6. When I have gas, I will be polite and go fart in the other room.
7. I will not lie in the litter box pretending I am Simba Master of All He Surveys while my brothers are waiting to use it.
8. The flat cans with the smiling fish on them are not for me.
9. I will not knock over and rearrange the large stacks of paper my human produces to make a bed for myself.
10. I will not sit and stare at my human when she sits in the bathtub, no matter how weird I think she looks with those tea bags and that mayonnaise on her face.
11. I will stop plotting to get rid of the short humans.
12. I will stop trying to squeeze between the balcony railings to catch dragonflies. I will remember if I miss it's a three story drop into a canal.
13. Whatever my human drinks in those mugs is too hot and not for me.
14. I will not glare, hiss, or growl at the guests who smell like dog. I will understand some humans are simply not worthy of feline ownership.
and finally --
15. I will not sneak into the closet, climb into the big box and chew off the corners of my human's author copies.
My Cat's New Year's Resolutions
1. I will not catch lizards. If I do, I will not eviscerate them on my human's bed pillow.
2. I will not cough up hair balls on my human's prized 1940 Dresden fan quilt.
3. When my human enters the kitchen, it is not always to get me Pounce treats. I will be understanding about this.
4. I will kiss my human before I wash my butt.
5. I will not grab my brother in a stranglehold and pretend to tear out his throat in front of my human's guests.
6. When I have gas, I will be polite and go fart in the other room.
7. I will not lie in the litter box pretending I am Simba Master of All He Surveys while my brothers are waiting to use it.
8. The flat cans with the smiling fish on them are not for me.
9. I will not knock over and rearrange the large stacks of paper my human produces to make a bed for myself.
10. I will not sit and stare at my human when she sits in the bathtub, no matter how weird I think she looks with those tea bags and that mayonnaise on her face.
11. I will stop plotting to get rid of the short humans.
12. I will stop trying to squeeze between the balcony railings to catch dragonflies. I will remember if I miss it's a three story drop into a canal.
13. Whatever my human drinks in those mugs is too hot and not for me.
14. I will not glare, hiss, or growl at the guests who smell like dog. I will understand some humans are simply not worthy of feline ownership.
and finally --
15. I will not sneak into the closet, climb into the big box and chew off the corners of my human's author copies.
Thursday, December 03, 2015
Gift Pass Ten
Ten Things I Don't Want for Christmas
Chicken Soup for [Anything] Books: Personally I find reading inspirational story-themed anthologies a bit like being gently and repeatedly hammered over the head with a pillow in which someone has inserted a brick. Also, I'm not currently suffering from anything that requires literary chicken soup. If that should change my eyes are probably going to be too swollen to read, so how about you instead bring me a box of tissues and a nice cup of tea?
Chocolate-Flavored Body Paint: Interesting, but it probably contains sugar, so no.
Gourmet Popcorn: While I do like popcorn, I don't like it so much that I can eat a barrel of it before it goes stale.
Jarred Food Gift-to-Make: As pretty as those ingredients are layered in those mason jars, what you're actually doing is giving me more work to do during the holidays, which I don't actually need, thanks. If you want me to have cookies, make the cookies for me.
Jewelry Holder: I can't wear rings or bracelets or necklaces anymore due to arthritis-related issues, so I gave all of my jewelry to the daughter. I own exactly one pair of earrings, which I wear all the time, so I am my own jewelry holder.
Quilting Gadget: I own them all already. Seriously. Even that handy magnetic wrist pin holder/picker-upper.
Personalized Pillowcases: My guy and I remember which side of the bed is ours (I'm left, he's right.) The cat will also probably either puke on them or sharpen his claws on them, at which point they will become personalized cleaning rags.
Sausage and Cheese Food Gifts: Not healthy or very tasty, and we're watching our cholesterol and chemical preservative intake. If you must food gift us send organic fruit, please.
Smart Technology of Any Variety: I'm not interested in ignoring people so I can fiddle with some device while they fiddle with theirs or stare at the top of my head.
Writers Do It [insert risque phrase] T-shirt: Cute but not something I'd wear. Also, no one wants to think about how I do it at my age, sweetie.
What don't you want for Christmas? Let us know in comments.
Chicken Soup for [Anything] Books: Personally I find reading inspirational story-themed anthologies a bit like being gently and repeatedly hammered over the head with a pillow in which someone has inserted a brick. Also, I'm not currently suffering from anything that requires literary chicken soup. If that should change my eyes are probably going to be too swollen to read, so how about you instead bring me a box of tissues and a nice cup of tea?
Chocolate-Flavored Body Paint: Interesting, but it probably contains sugar, so no.
Gourmet Popcorn: While I do like popcorn, I don't like it so much that I can eat a barrel of it before it goes stale.
Jarred Food Gift-to-Make: As pretty as those ingredients are layered in those mason jars, what you're actually doing is giving me more work to do during the holidays, which I don't actually need, thanks. If you want me to have cookies, make the cookies for me.
Jewelry Holder: I can't wear rings or bracelets or necklaces anymore due to arthritis-related issues, so I gave all of my jewelry to the daughter. I own exactly one pair of earrings, which I wear all the time, so I am my own jewelry holder.
Quilting Gadget: I own them all already. Seriously. Even that handy magnetic wrist pin holder/picker-upper.
Personalized Pillowcases: My guy and I remember which side of the bed is ours (I'm left, he's right.) The cat will also probably either puke on them or sharpen his claws on them, at which point they will become personalized cleaning rags.
Sausage and Cheese Food Gifts: Not healthy or very tasty, and we're watching our cholesterol and chemical preservative intake. If you must food gift us send organic fruit, please.
Smart Technology of Any Variety: I'm not interested in ignoring people so I can fiddle with some device while they fiddle with theirs or stare at the top of my head.
Writers Do It [insert risque phrase] T-shirt: Cute but not something I'd wear. Also, no one wants to think about how I do it at my age, sweetie.
What don't you want for Christmas? Let us know in comments.
Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Nom Nom Nom Ten
Ten Things I Hate About Your Writing Pseudonym
By Suggestion: As with writing by committee, allowing your editor or agent to pick out your pseudonym is probably a bad idea. Unless you want to be called L.E. James, of course.
CopyCat: Naming yourself after a character is never a good move. Esepcially one of your own characters. Editors are going to make you their favorite cocktail party joke.
Doctor Doctor: That hip nickname you've given yourself to sound tougher or avoid gender recognition? Is the medical term for wart.
E-Name: Using the brand name of a popular e-reader as your first or last name doesn't look clever. It looks goofy, which makes me think you write like that, too (and if it's trademarked, probably not a financially wise idea, either.)
Miss Pell: If reading your name out loud results in a pun, a political statement or any other nonsense, I'm not going to buy your book. I might name an idiot in one of my books after you, though.
NickNabbed: If you steal a great family name from someone, chances are they're eventually going to find out. Like your Aunt Martha, the Catholic nun, who isn't aware you're writing erotica under her name, and just got an e-mail from Smut Tales asking for an author interview for their all-strap-on weekend.
One & Only: You know how people say that using only one name instead of the standard two is snotty and pretentious? They're absolutely right.
Porno-no: Don't come up with your pen name by playing the porn star name game. Really, the porn stars hate it when you do that, and they've asked me to tell you to stop.
Pranking Yourself: Never take the last name Hunt or Hunter and pair it with a first name that ends with a hard C consonant. If you don't understand why, say the entire name very fast and you will. And please, don't name a series like that and then trademark it (unless you want me to laugh myself into the hiccups every time I see your books.)
Uh-oh: That lovely pen name you put together from those pretty words you found in that cute foreign language book? Means Giant Ass Rabid Monkey in English.
By Suggestion: As with writing by committee, allowing your editor or agent to pick out your pseudonym is probably a bad idea. Unless you want to be called L.E. James, of course.
CopyCat: Naming yourself after a character is never a good move. Esepcially one of your own characters. Editors are going to make you their favorite cocktail party joke.
Doctor Doctor: That hip nickname you've given yourself to sound tougher or avoid gender recognition? Is the medical term for wart.
E-Name: Using the brand name of a popular e-reader as your first or last name doesn't look clever. It looks goofy, which makes me think you write like that, too (and if it's trademarked, probably not a financially wise idea, either.)
Miss Pell: If reading your name out loud results in a pun, a political statement or any other nonsense, I'm not going to buy your book. I might name an idiot in one of my books after you, though.
NickNabbed: If you steal a great family name from someone, chances are they're eventually going to find out. Like your Aunt Martha, the Catholic nun, who isn't aware you're writing erotica under her name, and just got an e-mail from Smut Tales asking for an author interview for their all-strap-on weekend.
One & Only: You know how people say that using only one name instead of the standard two is snotty and pretentious? They're absolutely right.
Porno-no: Don't come up with your pen name by playing the porn star name game. Really, the porn stars hate it when you do that, and they've asked me to tell you to stop.
Pranking Yourself: Never take the last name Hunt or Hunter and pair it with a first name that ends with a hard C consonant. If you don't understand why, say the entire name very fast and you will. And please, don't name a series like that and then trademark it (unless you want me to laugh myself into the hiccups every time I see your books.)
Uh-oh: That lovely pen name you put together from those pretty words you found in that cute foreign language book? Means Giant Ass Rabid Monkey in English.
Saturday, April 25, 2015
Timing, Everything
We had some friends over and ordered in Chinese, and this was the sunny little fortune that came out of my cookie:
After receiving this and a couple other unsolicited but really lovely positive messages lately, I've decided that the universe is cheerleading me. It happens every now and then, usually when I'm busy but feeling good and really in no need of pom poms.
Which means . . . hell if I know.
This is what I would like know: Where are the pom poms when I truly need them? Like 2014, remember that rollercoaster ride, universe? Or when I got shin splints last month, and realized it only when I was still on foot two miles from home? Or the morning when I e-mailed the client a correction and gave the wrong page number (that was so professional)? Or every single time I open a menu and see something delicious I want but I can't have on my diet? Speaking of the diet, where was your support on Prom dress shopping day, when we stopped at that nifty French macaron mall cafe and I nearly died a thousand deaths in front of the display case with all those lovely little rounds looking at me and whispering seductively Diet? We do not diet in France, cherie. We spit on your diet.
I appreciate the good thoughts and positive energy -- honestly, I do -- and I'm sure deep inside somewhere I can fly. Today, however, I need to move my butt, finish the edit on the client's next installment, update the ledger, finish the laundry, and make sure I get in at least three miles with the walking. Oh, and figure out what to feed these people for dinner that is low-fat, has no cholesterol or sugar, and doesn't resemble or taste like tree bark and twigs.
Maybe you could drop a hint in the next cookie?
After receiving this and a couple other unsolicited but really lovely positive messages lately, I've decided that the universe is cheerleading me. It happens every now and then, usually when I'm busy but feeling good and really in no need of pom poms.
Which means . . . hell if I know.
This is what I would like know: Where are the pom poms when I truly need them? Like 2014, remember that rollercoaster ride, universe? Or when I got shin splints last month, and realized it only when I was still on foot two miles from home? Or the morning when I e-mailed the client a correction and gave the wrong page number (that was so professional)? Or every single time I open a menu and see something delicious I want but I can't have on my diet? Speaking of the diet, where was your support on Prom dress shopping day, when we stopped at that nifty French macaron mall cafe and I nearly died a thousand deaths in front of the display case with all those lovely little rounds looking at me and whispering seductively Diet? We do not diet in France, cherie. We spit on your diet.
I appreciate the good thoughts and positive energy -- honestly, I do -- and I'm sure deep inside somewhere I can fly. Today, however, I need to move my butt, finish the edit on the client's next installment, update the ledger, finish the laundry, and make sure I get in at least three miles with the walking. Oh, and figure out what to feed these people for dinner that is low-fat, has no cholesterol or sugar, and doesn't resemble or taste like tree bark and twigs.
Maybe you could drop a hint in the next cookie?
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Sign Me Up
Ten Holidays Writers Would Like to Celebrate
Butt in Chair Week (January 2-9): To help all writers get a decent start on all those writing resolutions they made on January 1st which they will either ignore, forget about or declare impossible by January 10th.
Hatchet Job Recovery Day (Anytime): Must be celebrated with the writer's favorite consolation activity, food or beverage as well as a very large box of tissues.
Income Tax Weepfest (April 16th): Save some of those tissues for this 24-hour period of hysterics over all those lost receipts, being unable to claim Hagan-Daaz as a deduction, having to pay twice the FICA for being self-employed, etc.
Leave Me Alone I'm Writing! Month (November 1-30th): Because calling it National Novel Writing Month has not discouraged non-writers from interrupting us while we're creating our next work of breathtaking genius, maybe this will.
Love Scene Composition Day (February 15th): Got to do something with all that personal intensive research we did on February 14th, yes?
Not Going to Nationals Compassion Weekend (July): For our writer friends who are members of RWA but are unable to afford the thousands of dollars it costs to attend their National Conference, which we all know is a huge waste of time and will do nothing for their careers but can't convince them of the same.
Promo No-No Day (Anytime): A full day and night during which the writer does not have to advertise, hand out gratis copies, hold a giveaway, promote or even mention the latest release. Not even during a casual conversation on Twitter that offers the sparkling opportunity to regale all fifteen of one's followers with purchase-enticing snippets.
Snickerfest (April 1st): The day we all get together and laugh over the latest piece of idiocy perpetuated by a colleague whose advances have outgrown their common sense. This year I vote we guffaw over any writer who claims their characters are making them write their books badly. Because, you know, characters do that so frequently.
Writer Love Day (Anytime): A day when everyone just shows us some love instead of the usual barrage of crap. Wouldn't that be nice?
Writer Prezzie E-card Month (December): For thirty-one days every member of families and friend circles will resist the urge to buy us fuzzy socks, cologne that smells like rotting mangos and the obligatory [Insert Writer Pun] T-shirt and instead present us with electronic gift cards from whatever bookseller we are currently not boycotting due to shady business practices, the ever-looming possibility of bankruptcy, or who refuse to remove that two-star review with all the damn spoilers on our last novel even when we can prove it was that envious ass ex-critique partner who wrote it.
Butt in Chair Week (January 2-9): To help all writers get a decent start on all those writing resolutions they made on January 1st which they will either ignore, forget about or declare impossible by January 10th.
Hatchet Job Recovery Day (Anytime): Must be celebrated with the writer's favorite consolation activity, food or beverage as well as a very large box of tissues.
Income Tax Weepfest (April 16th): Save some of those tissues for this 24-hour period of hysterics over all those lost receipts, being unable to claim Hagan-Daaz as a deduction, having to pay twice the FICA for being self-employed, etc.
Leave Me Alone I'm Writing! Month (November 1-30th): Because calling it National Novel Writing Month has not discouraged non-writers from interrupting us while we're creating our next work of breathtaking genius, maybe this will.
Love Scene Composition Day (February 15th): Got to do something with all that personal intensive research we did on February 14th, yes?
Not Going to Nationals Compassion Weekend (July): For our writer friends who are members of RWA but are unable to afford the thousands of dollars it costs to attend their National Conference, which we all know is a huge waste of time and will do nothing for their careers but can't convince them of the same.
Promo No-No Day (Anytime): A full day and night during which the writer does not have to advertise, hand out gratis copies, hold a giveaway, promote or even mention the latest release. Not even during a casual conversation on Twitter that offers the sparkling opportunity to regale all fifteen of one's followers with purchase-enticing snippets.
Snickerfest (April 1st): The day we all get together and laugh over the latest piece of idiocy perpetuated by a colleague whose advances have outgrown their common sense. This year I vote we guffaw over any writer who claims their characters are making them write their books badly. Because, you know, characters do that so frequently.
Writer Love Day (Anytime): A day when everyone just shows us some love instead of the usual barrage of crap. Wouldn't that be nice?
Writer Prezzie E-card Month (December): For thirty-one days every member of families and friend circles will resist the urge to buy us fuzzy socks, cologne that smells like rotting mangos and the obligatory [Insert Writer Pun] T-shirt and instead present us with electronic gift cards from whatever bookseller we are currently not boycotting due to shady business practices, the ever-looming possibility of bankruptcy, or who refuse to remove that two-star review with all the damn spoilers on our last novel even when we can prove it was that envious ass ex-critique partner who wrote it.
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
WFH No-Nos
Ten Things You Should Probably Avoid Putting in Your Ad for a Ghost Writer
(all quotations found in actual Craigslist writing job ads)
"I will pay you in money and other valuable considerations."
Just to be upfront about it, I'm not taking any more chickens in trade.
"Most writers can average $30-45 per hour."
What if I'm above average? Will you pay me $100?
"This is a pay per job position and you can do it from home or you can come sit on my coiuch with your laptop, doesn't matter to me, as long as the work gets done and done right."
Right as in . . . spelling the word couch, for example?
"You really have to get it done pretty quickly, because otherwise it's too expensive."
You really have to wait until you can actually afford to hire me.
"Have a passion for booze in all forms?"
No, but I think I'm developing a migraine. Got an aspirin?
"If you are interested and you think you can write good enough books to hang with the big boys you can email me or text me."
Good enough books, okay. Um, give me a minute to stop laughing and then I'll text. I promise, big boy.
"The more views your articles get, the more you get paid."
Let me reinterpret this one: The more views your articles get, the more we get paid -- not that we'll ever tell you how much that is, btw. You, we might toss a couple extra pennies. Maybe. If we're feeling generous that day.
"While the pay for each task may vary, the goal is to pay approximately $12 per hour for work completed."
And if you don't, can I have David Beckham kick a soccer ball into your groin?
"We're looking for ambassadors . . . "
Try the U.N., pal.
"Please do not send a resume, I would rather see an image of you."
Make that two aspirin.
(all quotations found in actual Craigslist writing job ads)
"I will pay you in money and other valuable considerations."
Just to be upfront about it, I'm not taking any more chickens in trade.
"Most writers can average $30-45 per hour."
What if I'm above average? Will you pay me $100?
"This is a pay per job position and you can do it from home or you can come sit on my coiuch with your laptop, doesn't matter to me, as long as the work gets done and done right."
Right as in . . . spelling the word couch, for example?
"You really have to get it done pretty quickly, because otherwise it's too expensive."
You really have to wait until you can actually afford to hire me.
"Have a passion for booze in all forms?"
No, but I think I'm developing a migraine. Got an aspirin?
"If you are interested and you think you can write good enough books to hang with the big boys you can email me or text me."
Good enough books, okay. Um, give me a minute to stop laughing and then I'll text. I promise, big boy.
"The more views your articles get, the more you get paid."
Let me reinterpret this one: The more views your articles get, the more we get paid -- not that we'll ever tell you how much that is, btw. You, we might toss a couple extra pennies. Maybe. If we're feeling generous that day.
"While the pay for each task may vary, the goal is to pay approximately $12 per hour for work completed."
And if you don't, can I have David Beckham kick a soccer ball into your groin?
"We're looking for ambassadors . . . "
Try the U.N., pal.
"Please do not send a resume, I would rather see an image of you."
Make that two aspirin.
Sunday, March 01, 2015
Blogger SPAM
I always reserve the right to make fun of anyone who SPAMs me -- including my own blog host:
Starting March 23, 2015, you won't be able to publicly share images and videos that are sexually explicit or show graphic nudity on Blogger.
Because I'm, what, Sexy Back Writer now?
Note: We’ll still allow nudity if the content offers a substantial public benefit. For example, in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts.
You know, that's what every twerp says when his mother finds his sticky little Playboy stash: "Geez, Mom, they were substantially beneficial to me."
Changes you’ll see to your existing blogs: If your existing blog doesn’t have any sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video on it, you won’t notice any changes.
Kinda doubt there is anything I've done that qualifies. Well, this cover. And this one before I convinced them to put a shirt on him. Or are you doing the gender double standard thing and not counting naked male chests?
If your existing blog does have sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video, your blog will be made private after March 23, 2015. No content will be deleted, but private content can only be seen by the owner or admins of the blog and the people who the owner has shared the blog with.
Okay, so if PBW suddenly vanishes this time it will be entirely due to your uptight, unwarranted and unwelcome censorship. Gotcha.
Settings you can update for existing blogs, blah blah blah
Oh, bite me. Wait, only if it offers a substantial public benefit!
Starting March 23, 2015, you won't be able to publicly share images and videos that are sexually explicit or show graphic nudity on Blogger.
Because I'm, what, Sexy Back Writer now?
Note: We’ll still allow nudity if the content offers a substantial public benefit. For example, in artistic, educational, documentary, or scientific contexts.
You know, that's what every twerp says when his mother finds his sticky little Playboy stash: "Geez, Mom, they were substantially beneficial to me."
Changes you’ll see to your existing blogs: If your existing blog doesn’t have any sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video on it, you won’t notice any changes.
Kinda doubt there is anything I've done that qualifies. Well, this cover. And this one before I convinced them to put a shirt on him. Or are you doing the gender double standard thing and not counting naked male chests?
If your existing blog does have sexually explicit or graphic nude images or video, your blog will be made private after March 23, 2015. No content will be deleted, but private content can only be seen by the owner or admins of the blog and the people who the owner has shared the blog with.
Okay, so if PBW suddenly vanishes this time it will be entirely due to your uptight, unwarranted and unwelcome censorship. Gotcha.
Settings you can update for existing blogs, blah blah blah
Oh, bite me. Wait, only if it offers a substantial public benefit!
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Not So Smart
I don't own a Smart Phone*, so I tend to notice how people who do sometimes behave. I'd like to share my observations, too, so here are
Ten Dumb Things About Smart Phone Addicts
Conversation Monkeys: When I try to talk to any of you smart phone addicts lately, you listen for only about half a sentence before you start talking about your phone, then check your phone, and then begin texting someone. While you do this last part you mutter "sorry" to me four or five times until you're ready to listen to another half a sentence, and then the whole process repeats until I walk away, which you don't notice for at least ten more minutes. Then you get mad at me for being rude.
Date Voiders: This is something I see almost every time my guy and I go out for a meal: a nice young couple who should be totally involved in each other, yet who never say a word to each other because they're both on their phones the entire time they're in the restaurant -- even while they're eating. So romantic!
Find Mining: Why must we watch you unload your purse every single time you need to answer or use your smart phone? This would be the purse with the empty zippered phone pocket on the outside, btw. Ever consider actually putting your phone in the phone pocket? It's a radical idea, I know, but it might help.
Grocery Store Gamers: One of the great joys of having grown up kids is that I don't have to listen to that stupid video game music anymore. Until you get behind me in a long line at the market and start playing [insert name of smart phone game app] and then alternately yay or curse it while you play. This is especially attractive when you're doing it one-handed while dragging a wailing toddler along with you. P.S., the next time you shove your cart into my back because you're so wrapped up in your phone you don't look before you push? I'm handing your toddler a king-size energy bar.
Lookee! Or Not: Probably a dozen times last week someone tried to show me something on their smart phone which wouldn't load or they couldn't find. At which point they have to explain what I'm missing, but it's been so long since they've actually spoken to anyone they can't remember half the words they need to use. Totally unriveting.
Low Battery Bitching: Once you realize your smart phone battery needs charging, and you're somewhere where you are unable to do this, you have to whine to me every five minutes as to what percentage of power is left. While you're still using the smart phone. And when it finally dies you spend the next twenty minutes bitching about how lousy your battery is while you begin to twitch and fidget uncontrollably (which is the part I really like to watch. Can you get the Lookee! addicts to do that?)
Phony Drivers: I don't drive anymore at night because you people who have to be on your smart phone while you're behind the wheel do. I know, it's incredibly selfish of me to refuse to die just because updating your Facebook status made you run a red light, but there you go.
Plug Slugs: Once a week I find a charging cord hanging from one of my outlets where it was left after someone who is not my relative charged their smart phone. I used to try to find out who they belonged to; now I add them to what has quickly become an extensive personal collection. And do you know there's a guy at the flea market who pays five bucks a piece for them?
Selfieshing: While at any event I inevitably have to wait five or ten minutes while you people ahead of me take sixty selfies, which you immediately have to show to all the people who are already there with you and watched the whole thing in person, you idiot.
Text Gagged: This always makes me laugh, actually -- the growing number of smart phone addicts who refuse to make phone calls anymore and will only communicate by text. When you ask them why they say "It's easier" (if they still remember how to talk.)
*I do have one of those disposable drug dealer-type phones for road emergencies; it sits in my purse turned off until I get a flat or break down or someone needs to borrow it. Aka a dumb phone. It only makes phone calls. This horrifies everyone who borrows it, btw.
Ten Dumb Things About Smart Phone Addicts
Conversation Monkeys: When I try to talk to any of you smart phone addicts lately, you listen for only about half a sentence before you start talking about your phone, then check your phone, and then begin texting someone. While you do this last part you mutter "sorry" to me four or five times until you're ready to listen to another half a sentence, and then the whole process repeats until I walk away, which you don't notice for at least ten more minutes. Then you get mad at me for being rude.
Date Voiders: This is something I see almost every time my guy and I go out for a meal: a nice young couple who should be totally involved in each other, yet who never say a word to each other because they're both on their phones the entire time they're in the restaurant -- even while they're eating. So romantic!
Find Mining: Why must we watch you unload your purse every single time you need to answer or use your smart phone? This would be the purse with the empty zippered phone pocket on the outside, btw. Ever consider actually putting your phone in the phone pocket? It's a radical idea, I know, but it might help.
Grocery Store Gamers: One of the great joys of having grown up kids is that I don't have to listen to that stupid video game music anymore. Until you get behind me in a long line at the market and start playing [insert name of smart phone game app] and then alternately yay or curse it while you play. This is especially attractive when you're doing it one-handed while dragging a wailing toddler along with you. P.S., the next time you shove your cart into my back because you're so wrapped up in your phone you don't look before you push? I'm handing your toddler a king-size energy bar.
Lookee! Or Not: Probably a dozen times last week someone tried to show me something on their smart phone which wouldn't load or they couldn't find. At which point they have to explain what I'm missing, but it's been so long since they've actually spoken to anyone they can't remember half the words they need to use. Totally unriveting.
Low Battery Bitching: Once you realize your smart phone battery needs charging, and you're somewhere where you are unable to do this, you have to whine to me every five minutes as to what percentage of power is left. While you're still using the smart phone. And when it finally dies you spend the next twenty minutes bitching about how lousy your battery is while you begin to twitch and fidget uncontrollably (which is the part I really like to watch. Can you get the Lookee! addicts to do that?)
Phony Drivers: I don't drive anymore at night because you people who have to be on your smart phone while you're behind the wheel do. I know, it's incredibly selfish of me to refuse to die just because updating your Facebook status made you run a red light, but there you go.
Plug Slugs: Once a week I find a charging cord hanging from one of my outlets where it was left after someone who is not my relative charged their smart phone. I used to try to find out who they belonged to; now I add them to what has quickly become an extensive personal collection. And do you know there's a guy at the flea market who pays five bucks a piece for them?
Selfieshing: While at any event I inevitably have to wait five or ten minutes while you people ahead of me take sixty selfies, which you immediately have to show to all the people who are already there with you and watched the whole thing in person, you idiot.
Text Gagged: This always makes me laugh, actually -- the growing number of smart phone addicts who refuse to make phone calls anymore and will only communicate by text. When you ask them why they say "It's easier" (if they still remember how to talk.)
*I do have one of those disposable drug dealer-type phones for road emergencies; it sits in my purse turned off until I get a flat or break down or someone needs to borrow it. Aka a dumb phone. It only makes phone calls. This horrifies everyone who borrows it, btw.
Saturday, January 03, 2015
Ban It Ten
I was reading this year's list of words banned by Lake Superior State College, evidently an annual tradition of theirs for the last 40 years. Some I agree with (the phrase polar vortex has worn out its welcome) while others I've never heard (there are people who actually say bae or cra-cra out loud in front of others? Not in my circle) but the rest seem puzzling. Foodie has been around for at least a decade, and hack probably twice that long, and yet this is the first time I've heard them demonized. Maybe we get tired of some words after years of having them hurled at us.
I do keep my own running list of letters, symbols, words and phrases that annoy the hell out of me -- doesn't every writer? -- so I decided to put together:
Ten Words I'd like to See Banned Forever
# (or hashtag): A roping buzzy symbol first used to herd the comments of Twitter users under a common header to optimize searches for people who are forever Googling themselves, their friends or their causes. Now being perpetually used as a form of promotion by everyone for everything; even used car salesmen employ it in their irritating commercials. Since I'm not on Twitter or a fan of group-think I see it and think line break, which is what it means to a pro writer. I doubt we can get rid of it now, so I'll just be glad they didn't hijack the ampersand.
Amazeballs: The newest morphword that means amazing. Aka the sort of thing you chuckle when you hear a four-year-old saying it. Coming out of the mouth of a full-grown adult? Not so much.
Booty: As a euphemism for ass, backside, bottom, buttocks etc. The trend now is the bigger the better, which makes me happy for some of my friends who are well-endowed in that department, but the word itself? Still means pirate treasure to me. I guess I'll never get the hang of thinking of a lady's sit-upon when I hear it; sorry.
Conscious Uncoupling: Popularized by Gwyneth Paltrow, who apparently can't deal with uttering the words separated or divorced; sounds like what happens when you take too many Valium. Maybe that was the problem? Anyway, I'm adding it as an example to my collection of pretentious twaddle.
Deck: Not a group of cards, but the latest incarnation of cool. Why? Search me.
Fleek: I think this weirdo word is the latest euphemism for attractive (my hipster daughter explained this to me like three times and I still don't get it.) It sounds so unattractive I automatically think the opposite (but I did with phat when that became a gnarly way to say pretty or cool. I think.)
HEA: I've never liked this romance writer shorthand for happily ever after; my mind always reads it as that sneery laugh sound word HEH. So many readers cling to it with white knuckled hands it may not be possible to do away with it altogether; maybe we could substitute SEA for it? (I'll leave you to guess what the S stands for. Hint: rhymes with happily.)
Plus One: The current popular substitute for the word date, or the person who accompanies you when you go out. As terms go this one is such an emotional voided black hole I can hear it sucking the life out of a conversation anytime it's used.
Totes: This came into use apparently when the word total proved too exhausting to utter. Whenever someone says it to me I auto-correct-think it to "tote bag" and start nattering on about my latest.
u: always in small case, used as a short form of the word you. I understand why people use it on Twitter -- that 140 character limit turns everyone into an acronymist -- but I see it employed all the time in e-mails, comments and other places around the internet where there's plenty of room to write. If you're so lazy you have to shorten a three-letter word, please don't talk to me.
What are some words you'd like to see banned? Let us know in comments.
I do keep my own running list of letters, symbols, words and phrases that annoy the hell out of me -- doesn't every writer? -- so I decided to put together:
Ten Words I'd like to See Banned Forever
# (or hashtag): A roping buzzy symbol first used to herd the comments of Twitter users under a common header to optimize searches for people who are forever Googling themselves, their friends or their causes. Now being perpetually used as a form of promotion by everyone for everything; even used car salesmen employ it in their irritating commercials. Since I'm not on Twitter or a fan of group-think I see it and think line break, which is what it means to a pro writer. I doubt we can get rid of it now, so I'll just be glad they didn't hijack the ampersand.
Amazeballs: The newest morphword that means amazing. Aka the sort of thing you chuckle when you hear a four-year-old saying it. Coming out of the mouth of a full-grown adult? Not so much.
Booty: As a euphemism for ass, backside, bottom, buttocks etc. The trend now is the bigger the better, which makes me happy for some of my friends who are well-endowed in that department, but the word itself? Still means pirate treasure to me. I guess I'll never get the hang of thinking of a lady's sit-upon when I hear it; sorry.
Conscious Uncoupling: Popularized by Gwyneth Paltrow, who apparently can't deal with uttering the words separated or divorced; sounds like what happens when you take too many Valium. Maybe that was the problem? Anyway, I'm adding it as an example to my collection of pretentious twaddle.
Deck: Not a group of cards, but the latest incarnation of cool. Why? Search me.
Fleek: I think this weirdo word is the latest euphemism for attractive (my hipster daughter explained this to me like three times and I still don't get it.) It sounds so unattractive I automatically think the opposite (but I did with phat when that became a gnarly way to say pretty or cool. I think.)
HEA: I've never liked this romance writer shorthand for happily ever after; my mind always reads it as that sneery laugh sound word HEH. So many readers cling to it with white knuckled hands it may not be possible to do away with it altogether; maybe we could substitute SEA for it? (I'll leave you to guess what the S stands for. Hint: rhymes with happily.)
Plus One: The current popular substitute for the word date, or the person who accompanies you when you go out. As terms go this one is such an emotional voided black hole I can hear it sucking the life out of a conversation anytime it's used.
Totes: This came into use apparently when the word total proved too exhausting to utter. Whenever someone says it to me I auto-correct-think it to "tote bag" and start nattering on about my latest.
u: always in small case, used as a short form of the word you. I understand why people use it on Twitter -- that 140 character limit turns everyone into an acronymist -- but I see it employed all the time in e-mails, comments and other places around the internet where there's plenty of room to write. If you're so lazy you have to shorten a three-letter word, please don't talk to me.
What are some words you'd like to see banned? Let us know in comments.
Monday, December 15, 2014
HoHoHum Ten
Ten Things I Hate About Your Holiday Story
24/7 Bliss: The arrival of the holidays has mysteriously transformed your entire crew of non-religious, deeply-flawed, potentially interesting characters into a quasi-Borg Hive of Happy People Who Must Do Charitable Things and Make Deep Personal Sacrifices to Surprise That Character They Couldn't Stand Before Thanksgiving. They also seem to infect everyone they meet with this Be of good cheer or you will be assimilated nonense, too.
Behaving Perfectly Pets: Dogs, cats and other pets in your holiday story seem to spend all their time cuddling small grabby children, fetching wrapped presents and looking adorable as they pose by the decorated Christmas tree, instead of what they'd really be doing, like biting those children, gnawing or peeing on those presents, and trying to climb up or knock down the damn tree.
Chesty Chop: I know your male protag has an awesome-looking chest, and you like to show it off every ten pages, but sending him out shirtless in subzero weather to chop firewood just so his lady love can sigh over his pecs from the window? Really?
Death Takes an Extended Holiday: Doomed characters never expire on Christmas Day -- in fact, no matter what shape they're in, no one does. Anyone destined to buy the farm does it at least a month before or the day after. In the case of the Dec. 26th RIP, they must of course have an utterly magical Christmas that they declare was the best of their life right before they drop dead.
Give Me a Break: Everyone receives marvelous/wonderful/awesome gifts in Holiday Story Land. There is never anything silly or weird or cheap or inappropriate. All the gift clothes, shoes and engagement rings fit perfectly, too.
Santa to the Rescue: No matter if they're bell-ringer Santas or mall Santas or Uncle Herb dressed up as Santa, the Mr. Claus in your story will without fail provide some invaluable assistance or a wondrous revelation for your characters that a) eradicates the black moment; b) permits star-crossed lovers to uncross their stars or c) saves someone or something from imminent bankruptcy.
Snow No-No #1: Despite the fact that it's been snowing steadily in your story for the past three weeks, no character ever has to cancel travel plans, consider the possibility of road closures or even shovel their way out to the car -- which mysteriously always starts no matter how long it's been sitting out there, and is never buried under what should logically by now be a seventeen-foot drift.
Snow No-No #2: Your characters have been snowbound alone together in an abandoned cabin long enough to have wild monkey sex on every available flat surface in place, and constantly cuddle in front of the fireplace that never stops burning, and profess their love while making snow angels out in the yard. This is wonderful, until you consider they're also exclusively living on the handful of granola bars the heroine conveniently found in her purse which, according to my calculations, even if nibbled slowly would have run out a week ago.
Snow No-No #3: Have you ever actually had sex in the snow? If not, then you should know that at zero degrees, no matter what they're doing, your half-naked characters will begin suffering from frostbite in about ten to fifteen minutes. Guess where? So some advice: speed it up.
Stocking Stupidity: Here's another thing in Christmas stories that makes me crazy: fabric stockings full of candy hung all night from a mantle over a roaring fireplace, yet somehow they never catch fire. And since all that heat generated by the roaring fire rises up over them, why aren't they filled with liquid chocolate in the morning?
What do you hate in holiday stories? Share your gripes in comments.
24/7 Bliss: The arrival of the holidays has mysteriously transformed your entire crew of non-religious, deeply-flawed, potentially interesting characters into a quasi-Borg Hive of Happy People Who Must Do Charitable Things and Make Deep Personal Sacrifices to Surprise That Character They Couldn't Stand Before Thanksgiving. They also seem to infect everyone they meet with this Be of good cheer or you will be assimilated nonense, too.
Behaving Perfectly Pets: Dogs, cats and other pets in your holiday story seem to spend all their time cuddling small grabby children, fetching wrapped presents and looking adorable as they pose by the decorated Christmas tree, instead of what they'd really be doing, like biting those children, gnawing or peeing on those presents, and trying to climb up or knock down the damn tree.
Chesty Chop: I know your male protag has an awesome-looking chest, and you like to show it off every ten pages, but sending him out shirtless in subzero weather to chop firewood just so his lady love can sigh over his pecs from the window? Really?
Death Takes an Extended Holiday: Doomed characters never expire on Christmas Day -- in fact, no matter what shape they're in, no one does. Anyone destined to buy the farm does it at least a month before or the day after. In the case of the Dec. 26th RIP, they must of course have an utterly magical Christmas that they declare was the best of their life right before they drop dead.
Give Me a Break: Everyone receives marvelous/wonderful/awesome gifts in Holiday Story Land. There is never anything silly or weird or cheap or inappropriate. All the gift clothes, shoes and engagement rings fit perfectly, too.
Santa to the Rescue: No matter if they're bell-ringer Santas or mall Santas or Uncle Herb dressed up as Santa, the Mr. Claus in your story will without fail provide some invaluable assistance or a wondrous revelation for your characters that a) eradicates the black moment; b) permits star-crossed lovers to uncross their stars or c) saves someone or something from imminent bankruptcy.
Snow No-No #1: Despite the fact that it's been snowing steadily in your story for the past three weeks, no character ever has to cancel travel plans, consider the possibility of road closures or even shovel their way out to the car -- which mysteriously always starts no matter how long it's been sitting out there, and is never buried under what should logically by now be a seventeen-foot drift.
Snow No-No #2: Your characters have been snowbound alone together in an abandoned cabin long enough to have wild monkey sex on every available flat surface in place, and constantly cuddle in front of the fireplace that never stops burning, and profess their love while making snow angels out in the yard. This is wonderful, until you consider they're also exclusively living on the handful of granola bars the heroine conveniently found in her purse which, according to my calculations, even if nibbled slowly would have run out a week ago.
Snow No-No #3: Have you ever actually had sex in the snow? If not, then you should know that at zero degrees, no matter what they're doing, your half-naked characters will begin suffering from frostbite in about ten to fifteen minutes. Guess where? So some advice: speed it up.
Stocking Stupidity: Here's another thing in Christmas stories that makes me crazy: fabric stockings full of candy hung all night from a mantle over a roaring fireplace, yet somehow they never catch fire. And since all that heat generated by the roaring fire rises up over them, why aren't they filled with liquid chocolate in the morning?
What do you hate in holiday stories? Share your gripes in comments.
Monday, December 08, 2014
Knock-Off No-Nos
Ten Knockoffs I Will Never Write (and neither should you)
Divergent, but as a mashup with The Hunger Games
Let's see, we'll merge the Choosing Ceremony with The Reaping; when Tris gets a bird tattoo we'll make that a mockingjay, make the dystopian society a . . . um, dystopian society, take lots of violence and add that to, ah, lots of violence, and factions with classes and . . . I'm sorry, what exactly can I mash up again?
The Fault in Our Stars, but as an HEA contemporary romance
Then there would be no story, yes? Next.
Frozen, but as a paranormal romance with vampires and werewolves
If Elsa is a guy with amnesia, then I already wrote it. Before the movie came out, ha!
The Goldfinch, but as a Dickensian literary novel
All I'd have to do is retitle it: David Copperfield's Great Expectations. Send me my millions now, please.
Gone Girl, but as a M/M literary romance
Nick would have to fall in love with himself, at which point Amy would totally refall in love with him, and then Desi would kill them both. Actually, that kind of works for me.
Heaven is for Real, but as a Redneck humor book
If you read it in Jeff Foxworthy accent and ad lib a bit it's really hilarious. Go on, try: "Aw, it's gonna be okay. First person you're gonna see is Jesus -- and whooooo-wee, is he pissed at you!"
Mockingjay, but as a cozy cat mystery
I get as far as "It's another lovely day in Underground 13's book store, where every stray kitty is welcome. Only today the fur flies when our mystery-loving, bird-catching, still somewhat feral Catnip finds out Pita isn't bread, I mean, dead . . ." and then I can't stop laughing.
Oh, the Places You'll Go!, but as a political thriller
Well, then everyone is going to only one place. Think very, very, very south, with no chance of snowballs.
Pride & Prejudice, but as inspirational chick-lit
Because it is a truth universally acknowledged that Jane Austen didn't care if Lizzie talked in church, had a hussy for a sister or if her shoes ever matched her gloves.
Under the Dome, but as a cookbook.
This is complicated. If you're old enough to remember that Ronco Food Dehydrator infomercial in which Ron Popeil featured his kid and filled in the bald spot on his dome before he demo'd the unit . . . okay, you're not that old, never mind.
Divergent, but as a mashup with The Hunger Games
Let's see, we'll merge the Choosing Ceremony with The Reaping; when Tris gets a bird tattoo we'll make that a mockingjay, make the dystopian society a . . . um, dystopian society, take lots of violence and add that to, ah, lots of violence, and factions with classes and . . . I'm sorry, what exactly can I mash up again?
The Fault in Our Stars, but as an HEA contemporary romance
Then there would be no story, yes? Next.
Frozen, but as a paranormal romance with vampires and werewolves
If Elsa is a guy with amnesia, then I already wrote it. Before the movie came out, ha!
The Goldfinch, but as a Dickensian literary novel
All I'd have to do is retitle it: David Copperfield's Great Expectations. Send me my millions now, please.
Gone Girl, but as a M/M literary romance
Nick would have to fall in love with himself, at which point Amy would totally refall in love with him, and then Desi would kill them both. Actually, that kind of works for me.
Heaven is for Real, but as a Redneck humor book
If you read it in Jeff Foxworthy accent and ad lib a bit it's really hilarious. Go on, try: "Aw, it's gonna be okay. First person you're gonna see is Jesus -- and whooooo-wee, is he pissed at you!"
Mockingjay, but as a cozy cat mystery
I get as far as "It's another lovely day in Underground 13's book store, where every stray kitty is welcome. Only today the fur flies when our mystery-loving, bird-catching, still somewhat feral Catnip finds out Pita isn't bread, I mean, dead . . ." and then I can't stop laughing.
Oh, the Places You'll Go!, but as a political thriller
Well, then everyone is going to only one place. Think very, very, very south, with no chance of snowballs.
Pride & Prejudice, but as inspirational chick-lit
Because it is a truth universally acknowledged that Jane Austen didn't care if Lizzie talked in church, had a hussy for a sister or if her shoes ever matched her gloves.
Under the Dome, but as a cookbook.
This is complicated. If you're old enough to remember that Ronco Food Dehydrator infomercial in which Ron Popeil featured his kid and filled in the bald spot on his dome before he demo'd the unit . . . okay, you're not that old, never mind.
Monday, December 01, 2014
Gift No-Nos
Yes, it's officially holiday shopping season, so I thought I'd kick off December with
Ten Things I Don't Want For Christmas
Body-Fat Caliper: Very funny. This will get you gifted in return that home high colonic kit.
Books: As much as I'm sure I'd appreciate My Love Will Conquer Your Sadism or Amish Girl Stripper or the latest SF ripoff of Dick, Lem, Piper or Star Trek, how about a bookstore gift card instead?
Candy, Chocolate, or Sugar of Any Variety: It's been a decade since my doctor took sugar and sweets away from me, and yet every year some editor sends me that tower of chocolate thing I have to immediately donate. Stop it.
Exotic Teas: Yes, I am a tea lover. No, I do not want to make pots of vitaminized green tea infused with the essence of butternut squash. If you're still determined to tea me, go with decaf black, a single fruit flavor, or spiced chai.
Fur Anything: Not that I want to step on anyone's fur-loving toes, but I think we've evolved past the need to kill an animal in order to keep warm, yes?
House Plants: The cat eats them, and then throws up, usually on my bed pillow.
Massage Gift Certificate: Let's see, the relaxing chance to go to a little strip mall shop, take off all my clothes and lay face-down on an unsanitized, cracked vinyl mat while a person I don't know touches and pummels me? Pass.
Sexy Satin PJs: I'm not in the especially sexy stage of life, they're slippery, and during the night I tend to gravitate toward the edge of the bed. Plus my darling pup Skye sleeps on a quilt on the floor next to my side of the bed and if I fall, it's on top of her. P.S., I don't actually wear PJs.
Tattoo Parlor Gift Certificate: Ever wonder why I still don't have a tattoo? Ask my mom what she'll do to me if I ever get one.
Writer Novelties: I probably already own it. Yeah, even those lend-a-pens with the STD treatment clinic imprints.
What gift don't you want for the holidays? Let us know in comments.
Ten Things I Don't Want For Christmas
Body-Fat Caliper: Very funny. This will get you gifted in return that home high colonic kit.
Books: As much as I'm sure I'd appreciate My Love Will Conquer Your Sadism or Amish Girl Stripper or the latest SF ripoff of Dick, Lem, Piper or Star Trek, how about a bookstore gift card instead?
Candy, Chocolate, or Sugar of Any Variety: It's been a decade since my doctor took sugar and sweets away from me, and yet every year some editor sends me that tower of chocolate thing I have to immediately donate. Stop it.
Exotic Teas: Yes, I am a tea lover. No, I do not want to make pots of vitaminized green tea infused with the essence of butternut squash. If you're still determined to tea me, go with decaf black, a single fruit flavor, or spiced chai.
Fur Anything: Not that I want to step on anyone's fur-loving toes, but I think we've evolved past the need to kill an animal in order to keep warm, yes?
House Plants: The cat eats them, and then throws up, usually on my bed pillow.
Massage Gift Certificate: Let's see, the relaxing chance to go to a little strip mall shop, take off all my clothes and lay face-down on an unsanitized, cracked vinyl mat while a person I don't know touches and pummels me? Pass.
Sexy Satin PJs: I'm not in the especially sexy stage of life, they're slippery, and during the night I tend to gravitate toward the edge of the bed. Plus my darling pup Skye sleeps on a quilt on the floor next to my side of the bed and if I fall, it's on top of her. P.S., I don't actually wear PJs.
Tattoo Parlor Gift Certificate: Ever wonder why I still don't have a tattoo? Ask my mom what she'll do to me if I ever get one.
Writer Novelties: I probably already own it. Yeah, even those lend-a-pens with the STD treatment clinic imprints.
What gift don't you want for the holidays? Let us know in comments.
Monday, November 03, 2014
NaNoisms Ten
Ten Things Writers Say, and What They Really Mean
(The NaNoWriMo edition)
Come and be my NaNo writing buddy?
Don't make me go through this insanity alone. Please. I'm begging here.
Finally, a chance to do some real writing!
Finally, a chance to lock myself in the spare bedroom, turn down my computer speakers and play Candy Crush for three hours.
I don't yet have a title for my NaNo novel.
I'm not telling you the title of my NaNo novel because it's so good you'll steal it and tell everyone you thought it up and get published and then I'll have to one-star review and face in all your novels at the bookstore for the rest of my life.
I join in NaNoWriMo every year because I love it.
I hate this. Why did I do this to myself again? Because I'm crazy. Seriously. Calling the therapist as soon as I get my 1667 words for the day done. I swear.
I love all my friends cheering me on and encouraging me to write.
I'm Tuckerizing and then brutally slaughtering the next ass who asks me if I'm done yet.
My wordcount? I don't know, somewhere in the high five digits.
If you use two decimal places.
Once I finish NaNoWriMo I'm going to edit my novel and submit it to a publisher.
Once I finish NaNoWriMo I'm going to take this stack of crap into the backyard and burn it. Unless you read it for me, and love it to pieces, and tell me I'm the greatest writer who ever lived. Because I am. Look, just promise read it and lie to me, okay?
This is all I wanted to do in November.
This will get me out of all the lame holiday stuff my parents want me to do in November.
Writing a novel in 30 days is the most fun you can have as a writer.
Actually, no. It's gloating over the remainder titles at the Dollar Store, putting in fifteen requests under fake names for your own book at the local library, then sitting and pretending to write in the cafe where that really cute barista can watch you battle your non-existant literary demons. And there should be M&Ms in there somewhere. Like a pound of M&Ms.
You're not joining in? But you'll miss out!
Talk me out of this, please. Hurry.
(The NaNoWriMo edition)
Come and be my NaNo writing buddy?
Don't make me go through this insanity alone. Please. I'm begging here.
Finally, a chance to do some real writing!
Finally, a chance to lock myself in the spare bedroom, turn down my computer speakers and play Candy Crush for three hours.
I don't yet have a title for my NaNo novel.
I'm not telling you the title of my NaNo novel because it's so good you'll steal it and tell everyone you thought it up and get published and then I'll have to one-star review and face in all your novels at the bookstore for the rest of my life.
I join in NaNoWriMo every year because I love it.
I hate this. Why did I do this to myself again? Because I'm crazy. Seriously. Calling the therapist as soon as I get my 1667 words for the day done. I swear.
I love all my friends cheering me on and encouraging me to write.
I'm Tuckerizing and then brutally slaughtering the next ass who asks me if I'm done yet.
My wordcount? I don't know, somewhere in the high five digits.
If you use two decimal places.
Once I finish NaNoWriMo I'm going to edit my novel and submit it to a publisher.
Once I finish NaNoWriMo I'm going to take this stack of crap into the backyard and burn it. Unless you read it for me, and love it to pieces, and tell me I'm the greatest writer who ever lived. Because I am. Look, just promise read it and lie to me, okay?
This is all I wanted to do in November.
This will get me out of all the lame holiday stuff my parents want me to do in November.
Writing a novel in 30 days is the most fun you can have as a writer.
Actually, no. It's gloating over the remainder titles at the Dollar Store, putting in fifteen requests under fake names for your own book at the local library, then sitting and pretending to write in the cafe where that really cute barista can watch you battle your non-existant literary demons. And there should be M&Ms in there somewhere. Like a pound of M&Ms.
You're not joining in? But you'll miss out!
Talk me out of this, please. Hurry.
Wednesday, October 08, 2014
NaNo Ten
Ten Things About Joining in National Novel Writing Month
All-Encompassing Excuse: For thirty days you can answer any request made of you with, "Sorry, can't. I have to write a novel in a month."
Annoyance Factor: By doing this you will seriously, genuinely, deeply annoy all those people who think you can't, tell you why you shouldn't, don't think you should be allowed to, and/or are too afraid to try themselves. This includes every single one of those snotty pro authors who make a point to spit on NaNoWriMo participants every year.
Cover Art Creation: Books need covers, you've got that amazing photo you took on vacation last year that would work perfectly with your story, and you've never put your byline in 76 pt. font. Hours of photoshopping fun, I promise.
Facebook/Twitter Fodder: Finally, something to post besides cat memes, political rants or the usual "Watching DWTS. Checked fridge. Nothing to eat."
Font Debate Joy: For a solid month you can drive yourself crazy trying to decide on extremely important issues that are utterly integral to the success of your novel, such as Times New Roman, or Courier New?
Immediate Social Bump: When you tell ordinary people what you're doing in November, many of them will a) think it's very cool, b) wonder how the heck does anyone write a book in a month, and c) decide you're a lot more interesting than they ever imagined. To maintain this new status, politely deflect any questions on what the book is about by shaking your head and smiling mysteriously.
Nothing Ventured: You've never written a book. Want to find out if you can minus the usual decade of on-again off-again half-hearted tinkering on an idea that lost 99% of its luster during year three? Here you go.
Sex Scene Research: Really, do I even need to explain this one?
Storytelling Freedom: You can write whatever you want. Think about that: whatever you want. Sometimes that liberty turns out something very special -- like Harry's Charm, the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo 2009, which went on to become Disenchanted & Co.
Writing Life: For a month you not only get to have one, you get the extreme, deadline-pressurized, all-out word war version. Or you could abstain so you can concentrate on the important things in your non-writing life, like eating too much turkey, watching too much television, hauling down the boxes of holiday decorations from the attic, raking leaves, and standing in line for twelve hours the night before Black Friday for a sale-priced game system you really don't need. Me? I'm going for door #1.
What do you love about joining in NaNoWriMo? Let us know in comments.
All-Encompassing Excuse: For thirty days you can answer any request made of you with, "Sorry, can't. I have to write a novel in a month."
Annoyance Factor: By doing this you will seriously, genuinely, deeply annoy all those people who think you can't, tell you why you shouldn't, don't think you should be allowed to, and/or are too afraid to try themselves. This includes every single one of those snotty pro authors who make a point to spit on NaNoWriMo participants every year.
Cover Art Creation: Books need covers, you've got that amazing photo you took on vacation last year that would work perfectly with your story, and you've never put your byline in 76 pt. font. Hours of photoshopping fun, I promise.
Facebook/Twitter Fodder: Finally, something to post besides cat memes, political rants or the usual "Watching DWTS. Checked fridge. Nothing to eat."
Font Debate Joy: For a solid month you can drive yourself crazy trying to decide on extremely important issues that are utterly integral to the success of your novel, such as Times New Roman, or Courier New?
Immediate Social Bump: When you tell ordinary people what you're doing in November, many of them will a) think it's very cool, b) wonder how the heck does anyone write a book in a month, and c) decide you're a lot more interesting than they ever imagined. To maintain this new status, politely deflect any questions on what the book is about by shaking your head and smiling mysteriously.
Nothing Ventured: You've never written a book. Want to find out if you can minus the usual decade of on-again off-again half-hearted tinkering on an idea that lost 99% of its luster during year three? Here you go.
Sex Scene Research: Really, do I even need to explain this one?
Storytelling Freedom: You can write whatever you want. Think about that: whatever you want. Sometimes that liberty turns out something very special -- like Harry's Charm, the novel I wrote during NaNoWriMo 2009, which went on to become Disenchanted & Co.
Writing Life: For a month you not only get to have one, you get the extreme, deadline-pressurized, all-out word war version. Or you could abstain so you can concentrate on the important things in your non-writing life, like eating too much turkey, watching too much television, hauling down the boxes of holiday decorations from the attic, raking leaves, and standing in line for twelve hours the night before Black Friday for a sale-priced game system you really don't need. Me? I'm going for door #1.
What do you love about joining in NaNoWriMo? Let us know in comments.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Crew No-Nos
Ten Things I Hate About Your Secondary Characters
Beyond BFFs: Instead of being normal mortals who are occasionally helpful, unavailable, supportive, jealous etc. the friends in your cast are capable only of being beyond best friends forever. These sterling souls are ever ready to drop everything and do absolutely anything to help your protagonist. This includes throwing themselves in the path of nightmarish monsters, committing serious felonies, driving off a cliff in a convertible and my person non-favorite, throwing an insanely expensive surprise birthday party that everyone the protag knows joyously attends on time -- with a table piled high with fabulous gifts, no less.
Bobble Heads: Every time this character shows up in a scene, it's strictly to inform the reader of something they don't know by informing the protagonist of something he already knows. Ala Alfred intoning "You know, my boy, if your parents hadn't been cruelly murdered in front of you in that dark alley, you would never have built the BatCave, took on the secret life of a caped crusader, or escaped your fate to become just another useless overindulged narcissistic jackass into whose food I regularly spit."
Born to be Dumb: I know you want your protagonist to be smart, and capable of solving complex problems, and eligible to join any chapter of Mensa including the one for Grand Master Chess Champions who kicked Bobby Fisher's ass in five moves on that Internet chess site, but does this mean you must give everyone else in the story the IQ of a carrot?
Closet Superduper Deviants: I'm still waiting to find out which of the nice people I know in real life are actually secret neo-Nazi skinheads who like to cut themselves, shoplift guns, blow up elementary school buses and have sex with the helpless farm animals they keep chained in their underground bunkers before they plan massive Federal Reserve robberies with their fascist helicopter-piloting ex-Army buds, how about you?
Lovely & Lifeless: Your secondary characters are all very attractive, super smart, fascinating people who form a powerful and protective satellite of WOW around your protagonist. Yet despite being the sort of people most desired by others, these exceptionally wonderful folks for some reason don't ever seem to have homes, families, relationships, jobs or any kind of life of their own.
Mom Stand-Ins: Odd that the nice lady who lives next door never drops by my house every other day to check on me, bring me food or sit down, have a cup of coffee and listen to all my problems before she tells me exactly how to fix them, kisses me on the forehead and goes home to prune her perfect roses. I should complain to the HOA.
Obvious Herrings: You keep telling me that these characters are up to no good, and definitely working against the protagonist, and yet they don't really appear to be doing anything for real but distracting me from the actual antagonist, whom I had already identified by Chapter Three.
Q&Aers: If the ratio of questions asked to statements made by your support character is more than three to one, then they really exist only to ask questions you believe the reader needs answers to from the protagonist. Or your editor made you delete that long-ass prologue, yes?
Red Shirts: Think of all the people you know in real life. Do two or three of them die pointlessly every week while you escape the same fate, but only by your teeth skin? Yeah, me neither.
Wrench Tossers: Here's the thing: People show up in our lives for more reasons than to expose a concealed injustice, report on an unlikely murder, rat out our love interest, be followed by someone who wants us dead, deliver a sword of unimaginable power, etc. Sometimes people just want to go get coffee and danish and hang out at Starbucks, you know?
Your turn -- got any gripes about secondary characters? Let us know in comments.
Beyond BFFs: Instead of being normal mortals who are occasionally helpful, unavailable, supportive, jealous etc. the friends in your cast are capable only of being beyond best friends forever. These sterling souls are ever ready to drop everything and do absolutely anything to help your protagonist. This includes throwing themselves in the path of nightmarish monsters, committing serious felonies, driving off a cliff in a convertible and my person non-favorite, throwing an insanely expensive surprise birthday party that everyone the protag knows joyously attends on time -- with a table piled high with fabulous gifts, no less.
Bobble Heads: Every time this character shows up in a scene, it's strictly to inform the reader of something they don't know by informing the protagonist of something he already knows. Ala Alfred intoning "You know, my boy, if your parents hadn't been cruelly murdered in front of you in that dark alley, you would never have built the BatCave, took on the secret life of a caped crusader, or escaped your fate to become just another useless overindulged narcissistic jackass into whose food I regularly spit."
Born to be Dumb: I know you want your protagonist to be smart, and capable of solving complex problems, and eligible to join any chapter of Mensa including the one for Grand Master Chess Champions who kicked Bobby Fisher's ass in five moves on that Internet chess site, but does this mean you must give everyone else in the story the IQ of a carrot?
Closet Superduper Deviants: I'm still waiting to find out which of the nice people I know in real life are actually secret neo-Nazi skinheads who like to cut themselves, shoplift guns, blow up elementary school buses and have sex with the helpless farm animals they keep chained in their underground bunkers before they plan massive Federal Reserve robberies with their fascist helicopter-piloting ex-Army buds, how about you?
Lovely & Lifeless: Your secondary characters are all very attractive, super smart, fascinating people who form a powerful and protective satellite of WOW around your protagonist. Yet despite being the sort of people most desired by others, these exceptionally wonderful folks for some reason don't ever seem to have homes, families, relationships, jobs or any kind of life of their own.
Mom Stand-Ins: Odd that the nice lady who lives next door never drops by my house every other day to check on me, bring me food or sit down, have a cup of coffee and listen to all my problems before she tells me exactly how to fix them, kisses me on the forehead and goes home to prune her perfect roses. I should complain to the HOA.
Obvious Herrings: You keep telling me that these characters are up to no good, and definitely working against the protagonist, and yet they don't really appear to be doing anything for real but distracting me from the actual antagonist, whom I had already identified by Chapter Three.
Q&Aers: If the ratio of questions asked to statements made by your support character is more than three to one, then they really exist only to ask questions you believe the reader needs answers to from the protagonist. Or your editor made you delete that long-ass prologue, yes?
Red Shirts: Think of all the people you know in real life. Do two or three of them die pointlessly every week while you escape the same fate, but only by your teeth skin? Yeah, me neither.
Wrench Tossers: Here's the thing: People show up in our lives for more reasons than to expose a concealed injustice, report on an unlikely murder, rat out our love interest, be followed by someone who wants us dead, deliver a sword of unimaginable power, etc. Sometimes people just want to go get coffee and danish and hang out at Starbucks, you know?
Your turn -- got any gripes about secondary characters? Let us know in comments.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Shiloh's Ten
Ten Things That Happened When I Went to See Shiloh Walker
With zero prior warning I crashed the Coastal Magic Conference and they did not kick me out. On the contrary; Jennifer and her ladies were very welcoming, and helped me sneak up on Shiloh, and let me sit with her for their charity booksigning with no fuss whatsoever.
Before I shanghaied Shi I met up with wonderful steampunk jewelry-maker Leslie from Aunt Matilda's Jewelry Box to do some personal shopping. While I was depriving her of inventory I bought another of Kit's pendants to give away to one of my readers (this week ~ stayed tuned to the blog for details.)
I met and chatted with the lovely and charming USA Today bestselling author Carrie Ann Ryan, who can be described by many other words; the next that comes to my mind should be awesome as she gave me this gorgeous tote to hold all the books I bought. Her assistant Charity was so sweet and helpful, too, and I think somehow moved at the speed of light.
Author Gini Koch may have as many pseudonyms as me and was giving away e-book freebies, which was way cool (she is a rather amazing powerhouse when it comes to presentation, too; she should be teaching classes in how to promote your books in person.)
Author Sarah M. Ross was a delight to talk to and quite gorgeous in person; among other things she has that perfect hair I will never attain (sigh.)
Author James R. Tuck is a handsome devil with a wonderful voice and a neat sense of humor, too; I think every gal at the conference was falling in love with him.
I did not get around to all the tables, but I bought books from every one I visited, so it was probably good for the bank account that I didn't make it around the room.
Some people asked me and Shiloh to pose for pics and we did for two, I think; Tori from Smexy Books has one of them. Please note if you happen to see it that I am not dead, a man, or Stephen Leigh.
After the booksigning I dragged Shiloh out to dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, where I made a complete pig of myself over the delicious spicy fish and rice dish I ordered. We also talked shop, families, ordnance, explosives and plotted the overthrow of the online writing community. Kidding. We really didn't talk shop that much.
After many, many years of being cyber colleagues and blog pals I finally met Shiloh Walker, who is just as wonderful in person as she is online. Of all the people I've wanted to meet in the biz, she was the one I drove 500 miles (much of that in the pouring rain) to see, which should give you some idea of how much I care for her.
With zero prior warning I crashed the Coastal Magic Conference and they did not kick me out. On the contrary; Jennifer and her ladies were very welcoming, and helped me sneak up on Shiloh, and let me sit with her for their charity booksigning with no fuss whatsoever.
Before I shanghaied Shi I met up with wonderful steampunk jewelry-maker Leslie from Aunt Matilda's Jewelry Box to do some personal shopping. While I was depriving her of inventory I bought another of Kit's pendants to give away to one of my readers (this week ~ stayed tuned to the blog for details.)
I met and chatted with the lovely and charming USA Today bestselling author Carrie Ann Ryan, who can be described by many other words; the next that comes to my mind should be awesome as she gave me this gorgeous tote to hold all the books I bought. Her assistant Charity was so sweet and helpful, too, and I think somehow moved at the speed of light.Author Gini Koch may have as many pseudonyms as me and was giving away e-book freebies, which was way cool (she is a rather amazing powerhouse when it comes to presentation, too; she should be teaching classes in how to promote your books in person.)
Author Sarah M. Ross was a delight to talk to and quite gorgeous in person; among other things she has that perfect hair I will never attain (sigh.)
Author James R. Tuck is a handsome devil with a wonderful voice and a neat sense of humor, too; I think every gal at the conference was falling in love with him.
I did not get around to all the tables, but I bought books from every one I visited, so it was probably good for the bank account that I didn't make it around the room.
Some people asked me and Shiloh to pose for pics and we did for two, I think; Tori from Smexy Books has one of them. Please note if you happen to see it that I am not dead, a man, or Stephen Leigh.
After the booksigning I dragged Shiloh out to dinner at Bubba Gump Shrimp Company, where I made a complete pig of myself over the delicious spicy fish and rice dish I ordered. We also talked shop, families, ordnance, explosives and plotted the overthrow of the online writing community. Kidding. We really didn't talk shop that much.
After many, many years of being cyber colleagues and blog pals I finally met Shiloh Walker, who is just as wonderful in person as she is online. Of all the people I've wanted to meet in the biz, she was the one I drove 500 miles (much of that in the pouring rain) to see, which should give you some idea of how much I care for her.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Writerisms Ten
Ten Things Writers Say (and What They Really Mean)
(The copy and revisions edition)
A copy-edit is something all writers look forward to.
A copy-edit is something all writers dodge until the last minute, and then gripe about for weeks after.
Generally I don't use as many ellipses as you've suggested in my stories.
Why do you think all my characters are stutterers and asthmatics?
I actually clarified this in Chapter One (note to editor).
(Note to self) He won't notice that I just went back and clarified this in Chapter One.
I appreciate all the corrections you took the liberty of making throughout the story, but in the process you seem to have changed my character's title.
363 times, and now he's the Viscount of an illicit sex act. Do you hate me or something?
I used an alternative spelling here, but I'll replace it with the more common word.
I misspelled the word it but I don't want to admit that.
Look at all these helpful little comments and suggestions on the writing.
Great, another copy-editor who thinks they're a writer.
May I STET this, please?
May I smack you in the head with my manuscript a few times, please?
There's a little problem with the cover copy.
There's a huge problem with the cover copy, and it took me two hours of anxiety attacks before I calmed down enough to write this e-mail. Excuse me while I go start freaking out again.
This scene is important to the development of the character and the plot, so I'd like it to remain intact.
This scene is important to me because it took me three weeks and nine rewrites to get it right, and I'm so in love with it I'm thinking of having it tattooed in Chinese on my left shoulder.
Why sure, I can run through the copy-edit, answer all two hundred of the queries and get it back to you tomorrow morning.
Goodbye, sleep, hello, expresso maker.
(The copy and revisions edition)
A copy-edit is something all writers look forward to.
A copy-edit is something all writers dodge until the last minute, and then gripe about for weeks after.
Generally I don't use as many ellipses as you've suggested in my stories.
Why do you think all my characters are stutterers and asthmatics?
I actually clarified this in Chapter One (note to editor).
(Note to self) He won't notice that I just went back and clarified this in Chapter One.
I appreciate all the corrections you took the liberty of making throughout the story, but in the process you seem to have changed my character's title.
363 times, and now he's the Viscount of an illicit sex act. Do you hate me or something?
I used an alternative spelling here, but I'll replace it with the more common word.
I misspelled the word it but I don't want to admit that.
Look at all these helpful little comments and suggestions on the writing.
Great, another copy-editor who thinks they're a writer.
May I STET this, please?
May I smack you in the head with my manuscript a few times, please?
There's a little problem with the cover copy.
There's a huge problem with the cover copy, and it took me two hours of anxiety attacks before I calmed down enough to write this e-mail. Excuse me while I go start freaking out again.
This scene is important to the development of the character and the plot, so I'd like it to remain intact.
This scene is important to me because it took me three weeks and nine rewrites to get it right, and I'm so in love with it I'm thinking of having it tattooed in Chinese on my left shoulder.
Why sure, I can run through the copy-edit, answer all two hundred of the queries and get it back to you tomorrow morning.
Goodbye, sleep, hello, expresso maker.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Be Happy We Work at Home
Ten Things That Would Happen if Writing Became a Day Job
Accounting: could slow down in a big way and no one would notice. Meanwhile, the payroll clerk would become everyone's BFF.
Bosses: would have to do a lot more reading, stock up on Pepto, hire an extra secretary just to answer their intercom or phone extension and learn how to speak editor ("Get it done" = "If you can send this to me by close of business today I'll authorize your D&A payment").
Business Conferences: would have to include new events like Project Pitchorama, Character Dress-up for Literacy and The Vampire Ball.
Casual Friday: would be pretty much every day, and would have to be expanded to authorize the wearing of pjs, yoga pants, fuzzy socks and T-shirts with slogans like "OCCUPY PUBLISHING".
Company Coffee Pot: would burn out from overuse every other month or be filled with extra-large tea bags immersed in something vaguely purple that smells a bit like like the Queen's perfume.
Desks: would be buried beneath stacks of corrected chapters, two years of The Writer back issues, three dozen pens that ran out of ink and assorted widgets/gadgets/gizmos, index cards, newspaper clippings, and at least one hundred sticky notes inscribed with enigmatic phrases like "Sx scene Chap 9!!!!" or "Dismember by ch. saw?"
Offices: would need three walls of book shelves, stereo systems, scented candles, locking doors, pillows to scream into and at least one large window overlooking something pretty.
Personal Calls: would have to be authorized for mid-afternoon moments of panic when the employees need to call their best writer pals to say, "I suck. Go ahead, just tell me the truth. I suck."
Supply Closets: would have to be kept stocked with six months' supply of toner, bond paper, highlighters, red pens and lots and lots of notebooks with cute kitten covers.
Water Cooler: would be much more popular, at least until the boss discovers someone refilled it with wine.
Accounting: could slow down in a big way and no one would notice. Meanwhile, the payroll clerk would become everyone's BFF.
Bosses: would have to do a lot more reading, stock up on Pepto, hire an extra secretary just to answer their intercom or phone extension and learn how to speak editor ("Get it done" = "If you can send this to me by close of business today I'll authorize your D&A payment").
Business Conferences: would have to include new events like Project Pitchorama, Character Dress-up for Literacy and The Vampire Ball.
Casual Friday: would be pretty much every day, and would have to be expanded to authorize the wearing of pjs, yoga pants, fuzzy socks and T-shirts with slogans like "OCCUPY PUBLISHING".
Company Coffee Pot: would burn out from overuse every other month or be filled with extra-large tea bags immersed in something vaguely purple that smells a bit like like the Queen's perfume.
Desks: would be buried beneath stacks of corrected chapters, two years of The Writer back issues, three dozen pens that ran out of ink and assorted widgets/gadgets/gizmos, index cards, newspaper clippings, and at least one hundred sticky notes inscribed with enigmatic phrases like "Sx scene Chap 9!!!!" or "Dismember by ch. saw?"
Offices: would need three walls of book shelves, stereo systems, scented candles, locking doors, pillows to scream into and at least one large window overlooking something pretty.
Personal Calls: would have to be authorized for mid-afternoon moments of panic when the employees need to call their best writer pals to say, "I suck. Go ahead, just tell me the truth. I suck."
Supply Closets: would have to be kept stocked with six months' supply of toner, bond paper, highlighters, red pens and lots and lots of notebooks with cute kitten covers.
Water Cooler: would be much more popular, at least until the boss discovers someone refilled it with wine.
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