Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
If you watch the video, which you don't have to, you'll be treated to a pair of fine dancers. And see that you won't be humming this all day long.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Dear Agent Sparkly Pants:
Fourteen-year-old Joni Weaver is a proud member of the Freak Table. That’s where all the uncool kids sit everyday for lunch at Hell, er, Hellman High. Perhaps the honor was earned by her wardrobe of sparkly clothing (shouldn’t have given her mom that Bedazzler for Christmas) and buck teeth, or maybe it’s her strange inability to speak when spoken to without sounding like a broken record.
But those ain’t problems. Living in a house with seven cats is a problem. Having a mom who plays online poker all day is a problem. Having an estranged father who works in the projector room at the local movie theater with a bottle of whiskey in his hands is a problem. And when’s that darn first period gonna start? Now that’s a problem. Joni’s about ready to explode, a nice solution to her semi-doomed existence.
Pressured into trying out for the school play, Joni decides to make everyone see she’s more than just a member of the Freak Table. That she just might be somebody. That the rhinestones, and the dead-beat mom, the Virgin Mary status, the Southern Comfort guzzling dad and his new needy wife, they’re not her. She can escape. She can prevail. But first . . . she’s gonna have to try out.
‘BYE JONI WEAVER is a YA mainstream of 70,000 words. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Seventeen-year-old Emma Shay is dying to get out of small town Springvail, but after falling in love with a young man no one else can see, decides to stay and fight to get his soul back from a cult called the Soul Seekers.
Monday, April 18, 2011
O is for OPEN. NOW that you've decided to step forward, you must OPEN that door. What happens when you finally decide to act on a dream? Bad things happen, right? Sometimes. Lots and lots of failure, with lots and lots of hard work. Sometimes it seems like it can't be worth it. Wouldn't it be better to go back to the old days of sitting comfortably in a chair pretending you're working on a dream? No one would be able to hurt you, judge you. You can sit and dream endlessly and never have to feel the pain of rejection. Well . . . there's always that option. But what happens when someone else finds your idea and they make it happen, they get the glory, they find success? All because you were afraid of failure.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Friday, April 15, 2011
This is the story of Marian.
They had four children, though one died of illness at a young age. Grandfather used to sit and look at Ramona's picture on the mantle. She had been the first born.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
My other baby. He's rough and rowdy, but very cuddly. He loves to dance, loves to run around, loves to play with Henry the dachshund. He makes me laugh. His new favorite thing is to play video games, and though I've lamented whether he could be doing better things with his time, once I saw the way it improved his confidence, I dropped all complaints. I think boys these days are programmed to love that type of sensory activity. Not sure, but he and his cousin seem to be happier because of it.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
My darling girl. When she was little she was trapped inside herself and needed help getting out. Diet change was the first thing that set her free. Getting her special help at preschool and speech therapy helped, and now she's doing quite well thanks to targeted studies in kindergarten. I've seen her schoolwork improve these last few weeks, and she's also more aware of her feelings. That's the hardest thing for a kid with a sensory disorder, they are so stuck in their own head that everything else is overwhelming. She's gotten so much better dealing with all outside stimulation like unwanted conversation, hugs, etc. When she was little she would never say she loved me, and it hurt, believe me, it hurt. When I saw other kids hugging their moms and saying they loved them, well, it was depressing. I feel like those years I was almost in a dead state. Writing helped me open up again, it brought me joy. And now my little girl tells me she loves me all the time. She's free. I'm free. Julia is a good lesson to us all: work hard and good things happen. Time heals. Love prevails.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
F is for Friendship. And what a wonderful example I have with all you dear folks stopping by and leaving great comments. An artistic endeavor can become quite a lone process sometimes, we give so much to our fictional existence and the real one suffers. But you need real friends to make it in this world. So thank you very, very much for all the support. It hasn't gone unnoticed!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
E is for Ewok. An Ewok is the darndest little critter, let me tell you. Covered with fur, this forest creature has big eyes, looks like a little shitzu really, but don't let all that physical stuff lend you to thinkin' they are harmless. These dudes can pack a mean punch.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
D is for Dachshund. Dachshunds are expressive, funny, smart, fiercely loyal, playful, protective, naughty . . . They love life and demand that others join in their enthusiasm. For instance, well, being a writer is not a good profession for a dachshund's human to have. It's so boooooring. Why would anyone want to sit around all day tapping at keys? I mean, there's a ball to catch, food to steal off the table, cats to run after, birds to snap at, squirrels to kill, and we gotta stay inside? WTF??
Monday, April 4, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
B is for Bravery. Taking that first step toward writing a book, toward saying something different, toward releasing thoughts and feelings you never thought you'd have the guts to release before. Have faith that your ideas are good enough to write down. Write first, think later. First draft: Bad. Second draft: Better. Draft 1,000,000: Great.
Friday, April 1, 2011
A is for actress. The ultimate movie star, Great Garbo. I used to obsess over her quite a bit, as she was the highest level of glamour, of style, of sophistication. She was tall, I'm tall. She had a husky voice, I can get kinda husky. She was strange, elusive, hard to pin down. I'm . . . strange.
Life these days.
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