I joined Georgia Romance Writers in 1993 (dang that seems like a long time ago– I suppose because it is:p). I can’t tell you how exhilirating it was to be among people who were doing what I wanted to do. A few months after joining I participated in a hands-on workshop where we broke into small groups of four and five people. There was this one really nice woman in my group.

I used to be painfully shy. I’m better but it’s absolutely worst in big groups. Anyway, I’d show up at the monthly GRW meetings but I wouldn’t talk to anyone. I mostly wouldn’t even look at anyone. Crazy as it sounds, I can stand up and present a workshop in front of a hundred people and I’m fine but put me in a cocktail party with a room of strangers or a room of people I don’t know and I go into shut-down mode. So, back to the story at hand — and, yes, there is a point — at one of these meetings where I was sitting like an island unto myself, a woman asked me if she didn’t know me from somewhere. Looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights (her interpretation) I said very hurriedly, “No. No, I don’t know you.” Then I leaped up from the table and went to the bathroom. Thank goodness, in the bathroom I realized she was in my workshop group a couple of months before and a long-enduring friendship began.

We discovered we’d grown up about sixy miles apart. At the time we met she lived about ten mintues from me. We became critique partners and invaluable champions of one another. She sold about three months before I did and I was thrilled for her. Over the years we shared joys and sorrows, writing related and personal. We logged in numerous hours at Chick-fil-et and her pool when our kids were younger. Then when they were older we had a Waffle House table with our name on it (yep, give a southern gal a sweet tea, grits, and some fried pork matter). Then her husband was transferred. Instead of ten minutes away she was 1100 miles away.

It’s been five long years but today my bud is coming home…for good.:)(y) Her husband has retired and there won’t be anymore transfers. She’s not ten mintues away but an hour and a half is a heck of a lot better than 1100 miles. :d We’ve already decided on a standing date once a month to get together. I bet there’s a Waffle House near her house.:p

I need a personal shopper. Girl and I went to the mall on Friday evening to pick up a book bag for her. I am in desperate need of shorts and thought while I was there I might find some on sale. Surely there’s something out there that isn’t cut up to your crotch or down to your knees.:[ There has to be. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it.

But while I was cruising through the store, I found this really AWESOME brown suede embroidered mid-thigh-length coat that did in fact look exceptional on–Girl’s words, not mine. But then what do I wear it with?

I don’t have the patience to dig through racks and I don’t have the knack for putting things together. Bottom line. I need a personal shopper…as long as they’ll do it for free.:$

I’m not particularly proud of it, but I have to confess that I’m a sucker for those headlines that proclaim Emmy Fashion Hall of Shame–10 Worst Dressed. Do I have a deadline? Yes. Do I have to manage my time? Yes. Have I called my mother yet today? No. Still…I can’t seem to help myself…I have to click on it and look at every hideous dress and read the accompanying commentary. (n)

And you know you’re in trouble when you’re looking at one of the 10 worst and you like it.:o Most of them you think if they couldn’t find a mirror, at least a good friend would convince them not to walk out the door wearing that. But what was wrong with what that Buffy the Vampire Slayer girl was wearing? The skirt was a little shiny, but come on, one of the worst?

Often the DH doesn’t think I’m funny, but sometimes…

This morning I followed him downstairs, opened the door to the driveway (yes, we have neighbors in our suburban paradise) and yelled — really loud — “Leave. Go to work. Get the h*&l out of here and you better not come back before 11:00 tonight.”

He was grinning like a fool when he got into his truck.

Two fools in paradise.:p

WARNING: Do not read further if you haven’t seen the movie Annapolis and plan to do so because I will totally ruin it for you by revealing major plot points and the ending. Otherwise, read on.

The DH and I watched this last night. I was watching as much for the “Annapolis experience” as anything. Not brilliant, but it was okay. There were some very good moments. When the one plebe outed the other for not showering. When the one guy jumped because he hadn’t passed the training requirements in the allotted time – the DH teared up because it reminded him of a similar incident when he went through Ranger training many moons ago. When the hero plebe was going up against the badass company commander in the pivotal fight scene, the DH looked over at me and said, “Okay, you’re the writer. Is he going to win?”

“Not if the writer does a good job. He should lose. I’d write it for him to lose because otherwise it’s too pat.”

He lost and the movie rolled on. Then…at the end…final scene…this plebe hero and his love interest, who happens to be an instructor, stand on the steps of a building, albeit behind a column, but there are other cadets around and they…kiss. WTF? The DH and I both looked at the screen and yelled, “NO!” at the same time. No, no, and no! This would have seriously jeopardized their respective standings at the Naval Academy. And the two characters I just watched for two hours wouldn’t have done this. It would’ve been so much more effective if they’d exchanged a look that clearly told each other, and the audience, that they’d like to exchange a kiss and one day in private they would exchange a kiss. Aaarrrgh! It was irresponsible writing. In one moment of gratuitous writing, the entire movie was invalidated for me.

IMO, a writer has an obligation. No, I don’t think a writer should write a scene because he/she thinks that’s the way the reader wants it written. A scene should be written a particular way because that’s the way the story and characters dictate it should be written. It’s a writer’s obligation to stay true to the story and the characters. If characters don’t stay true to themselves, it should be well-motivated. If a writer lives up to this obligation, then reader, or viewer, satisfaction should follow.

Whew…well, I feel better now. And I’m off to try to live up to my obligations on my current manuscript.

“I can live for two months on a good compliment.” - Mark Twain

Me and him both.:)

…while I bang my head against a wall.

Two weeks into school and The Girl is home with probable strep – horridly sore throat and stomach ache (her classic symptoms). We’re waiting on a call from the pediatrician so we can go in for the swabbing.

Ack, ack, and ack. This is precisely why we yanked the tonsils out this past April (yes, the doctor’s office had to talk me into it and assured me it would end our strep saga). Now here we go with the antibiotics again, which I HATE giving. Plus, at the risk of sounding like a self-absorbed, insensitive mom, I have a ton of work to do.

Yep, I’ll just find a nice, solid wall….

Okay, I guess I’m glad to be back into a regular work routine — although I didn’t stray far this summer. However, along with school comes the make-me-crazy extracurriculars. Soccer practice two nights/week with extra skills training available on other nights as well if we want to schlepp over and put in the time. Then it’s two scrimmage games on Saturday and two actual games on Sunday. I like soccer but I’m just not ready….;(