by Rachel Brady
Some of you know that I frequently use my Facebook status to share amusing things my kids say. A friend encouraged me to start saving those gems in a Word file too, and I was recently surprised to find that I’ve been at it now for a year. Here are their Greatest Hits of the last 12 months in reverse chronological order. From the mouths of babes . . .
June 2010
Jill and I were having a general discussion about kids and how they can be tough on furniture. She nodded toward her brother and sister. “That’s why you should have stopped before you had those two.”
While we were driving down the highway, Jill said, “See that place called Kids For Less? You think that’s an adoption center?”
Me, to the kids: “Trust me guys. I’m old and wise.” Lindsay (conciliatory): “Don’t say that, Mom! You’re not wide!”
May 2010
Sam unwittingly corroborated my impressions of last weekend’s slumber party: “Mom, where is that necklace that Lindsay got at her screaming girl party?”
Maybe I use my laptop too much. When asked to name a “D vegetable”, Jill came up with a Dell pepper.
Me, to the slumber party: “Does anyone have to use the restroom before bed?” Visiting child, worried: “Why? Are you going to lock it up for the night?”
Sam: “Are you sorry?” Me: “For what?” Sam: “For not letting me have that piece of caramel this morning.” Me: “No. I’m your mom. It’s my job to make sure you have a real breakfast.” Sam: “No, it’s not. Your job is to push me on the swing.”
Me (thinking I was alone): “Heeeeyy, good lookin’…” Sam, from the other room: “Whaaaatcha got cookin’?”
April 2010
Lullabye update. “Mom, sing that ten more times.” Me: “Ten? That’s too many.” Sam: “How about four times because I’m four?”
My nine year old kid just “yada yada yada”d me.
Doing an art project with Jill, I got: “Looking pretty good, Mom. You should be an artist instead of a scientist or engineer or whatever you are.”
Me to Jill: “Well, one reason I don’t buy you more stuff is because I think it diminishes your appreciation for what you have.” Her reply: “I do appreciate those things, Mom. I’m just saying I’d like to have more things to appreciate.”
Sam wanted an explanation for “butt talk,” and I was concerned he’d come home with some new language for rude behavior, but it turns out he’d only learned the word “buttock,” pronounced Forrest Gump style.
I awoke at 3 a.m. to Jill prowling the house with her reading flashlight, searching for the Easter baskets. By 6:30 a.m. all three were in the back yard vying for the eggs. Red Bull, please.
March 2010
Fun clues I got from the girls playing Catch Phrase: “The hat of Texas” turned out to be Oklahoma, and “Those yellow people on TV” turned out to be The Simpsons.
Sam: “Mom, on your next birthday, wish to be a boy. Then you can pee standing up. Got it?”
Me: “You sure ask me some funny stuff.” Jill: “We’re kids. It’s our job to crack up our moms.”
February 2010
From Lindsay tonight, a note with MOTHER as an acronym: Mom, Outstanding, Terrific, Huggable, “Exelent,” Radiant. What a great way to end my day.
Public service announcement from Sam: “If you get near a jelly fish, stay away from his tempicles.”
Me: “What’s so hard about being a kid?” Jill: “Having a sister.” Me: “I never had one. I think that would be fun.” Jill: “Well, maybe we can switch places sometime. Then you can feel my pain.”
January 2010
Sam: “Is this how you spell your name? O-M-O?” Me: “Pretty close. M-O-M.”:-)
Sam: “Can I have a piece of candy?” Me: “Who’s the best mom ever?” Sam: “You.” I gave the nod. Next it was Jill: “Can I have one? You.”
I was making lasagna, radio playing, when my 4-year-old turned and quoted: “Just the two of us. We can make it if we try, Mom.”
I recently asked Jill if she knew what oatmeal was good for. I was going for “your heart.” Her reply: “Cookies.”
Woke up snuggled next to Sam this morning, who opened his eyes and immediately said, “No singing in the shower, Mom. I want to sleep.”
December 2009
Another round of Outburst with Jill. “Parts of the body that come in pairs”… Jill’s answer: Butt cheeks.
Played Outburst with my girls. Jill’s category was Pizza Toppings and I was trying to clue her into anchovies: “Do you know the name of those disgusting little fish some people put on their pizzas?” She snaps her fingers and her face lights up: “MINNOWS!”
Sam caught the garter tonight. Says he has to find a “yittle girl to get married with.”
Sam put me on the Naughty list. No explanation was offered. The statement was: “I’m putting you on the Naughty list because you’re naughty. How do you spell your name?”
Sam has been giving me stickers this morning. He just confided, “Mom, don’t let Jill see these.” I said, “Are these Jill’s stickers you’ve been bringing me?” He said, “Yes, and if she finds out, it’s gonna be BAD.”
Me (singing): “Oh, Sammy, I love you so! Never never never gonna let you go!” Sam: “Why will you never never never let me go? Does this mean we’ll be stuck here at basketball practice forever?”
Driving in the rain with Sam, a wiper blade came loose: “Uh-oh, Mom. Looks like we need a new car.”
Jill: “Mom, who was the first person on the planet?” Me: “Not sure, I wasn’t there.” Jill: “Sure you were.”
Lindsay: “I love you mom. I hope you never die.” Me: “Love you too, baby. I’ll do my best not to die.” Lindsay: “Me too. I’ll eat a lot of carrots.”
Sam: “Why does the sky have to rain?” Me: “Because clouds are made of water. When they get too full of water, that’s when it rains.” Sam, after a thoughtful pause: “Mom? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
After seeing Lindsay kiss me under the mistletoe, Sam announced that “only one person has to do it,” thereby absolving himself of any kissing-Mom duties. They learn to break hearts young.
November 2009
Jill, on our drive home from Target: “Mom, are there any famous singers besides Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana who aren’t dead?” …Maybe it’s time for me to roll some contemporary artists into the mix.
Sam proclaimed a new allergy, this time to milk. Me: “You’re not allergic to milk.” Sam: “I am.” Me: “Do you know what ice cream is made of?” Sam: “What?” Me: “Milk.” Sam: “No. Ice.” Me: “Afraid not. Milk.” Sam: “Then why is it ice cream?” Me: “Cream is made from milk.” Sam: “I know that mom.” And I have these conversations why?
Lindsay on orbits: “It’s like the sun is just sitting there, watching TV. Being lazy. The Earth wants some exercise, so it runs around the sun, around and around. And the moon wants in on it too, so it runs around the Earth.”
Sam asks for the crust to be removed from his sandwich. Claims allergy to crust.
Crimebake writers’ conference is having a costume banquet Saturday evening… anything from the late 1800s to mid-1900s. I asked Sam if he’d help me find a costume today, and he expressed strong feelings that I attend as a vampire.
Tough Mommy moment tonight. The note I found waiting at Jill’s room: “Keep out! Don’t touch! Don’t donate! Stay out of our stuff! Stay out of our tareotory!” I don’t think my efforts at clutter elimination were appreciated.
Watching Sam’s soccer practice together, Jill was telling me about her friend’s theories regarding gerbil heaven when she randomly smacked me in the side of the head: “Mosquito.” And then right back to what she was saying.
October 2009
Jill’s new career aspiration: “Mom, when I grow up I’m going to write commercials for food, but only for the foods I like. Oatmeal, candy, and cookie dough.”
Jill and Lindsay’s new way to mess with Sam: tell him he’s “fired” as uncle to their pets. You would not believe how many times my shower was interrupted with complaints from a recently fired three-year-old.
Jill: “Mama, when you’re a Grandma are you going to spoil our kids like Grandpa spoils us, or are you going to act to them the way you act to us?” Me: “I’ll probably spoil them.” Jill: (squinting at me and pointing a finger…) “Naughty.”
Me: “Whose birthday is it today?” Sam: “Jill’s.” Me: “How old is she?” Sam: “Nine.” Me: “How old is Lindsay?” Sam: “Seven.” Me: “How old are you?” Sam: “Free and… a half.” Me: “How old am I?” Sam: “Seventy.”
All together now, to the tune of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain”: Water travels in a cycle, yes it does. Water travels in a cycle, yes it does. It goes up as evaporation then comes down as precipitation, water travels in a cycle, yes it does.
Lindsay is singing “King of the Road” in the bathtub, but her lyric is slightly off: “Two hours of pushing broom buys an eighth or twelve four do soon.”
Jill asked whether there were TVs when I was a kid. That one kind of made my stomach flutter.
I was just admonished by a three-year-old. My speaking while he played GameBoy apparently caused him to die.
September 2009
On the way home from school, Jill asked, “Mom, you know how you look right now? Is that as good as you can do, or can you look better?” I replied that I was sure I could do a lot better. “What prompted that?” I asked. She described a facial product on TV that makes women look younger and finished with her hands up defensively: “Not that you need it! I’m just sayin’.”
Getting ready for my lunch with some big-wigs at work, I told Sam I was going to be having lunch with some scary people. He asked, “Are they Halloween people?” Jill’s advice was simply not to order the okra since, I guess, that’s the only thing that might really make a bad impression. Lately, all of Lindsay’s make-believe characters are talking with British accents.
Sam: “Mommy, can I watch SpongeBob Squarepants?” Me: “You know mommy doesn’t like SpongeBob.” Sam: “Then don’t yook at him.”
Jill turns her attention to marketing. “If IHOP changed their name to *Incredible* House of Pancakes, I bet they’d get more business.”
August 2009
When Sam goes swimming he requires a “babing suit and gobbles.”
I was getting out of the shower and Jill kept talking to me through the bathroom door so much that I felt like I was being stalked. I told her to go play. “I can’t,” she said. “I accidentally tied myself to the door knob.”
Sam, reflecting on his soft pretzel today at the zoo: “Mm. This white stuff’s super good.” (the salt)
I must be getting predictable. I told Sam, “I think I’ll put on some music.” He said, “Patsy Cline, mom?” Which I thought was fun enough. So I told him yes. And he said, “She’s *Crazy*.”
Took the kids to see a movie at the local *Cinema 6*, but Sam was under the impression we were going out for “Cinnamon Sticks.”
Another Jill classic: “If Johnny Cash were alive would you let him sign your guitar?” “Yes.” “I wish I could sign your guitar.” “If you ever do I’ll kill you.” “What? You love me more than Johnny Cash but he could sign it and I can’t? Well, that’s just weird.”
Jill and Lindsay asked me why Nintendo doesn’t make a Gamegirl.
Me: “Why is there a soccer goal in my bathroom?” Jill: “I just felt like it.”
Lindsay smoked me at air hockey. While playing, she said, “Sorry to do this to you, Mom. I’m not even playing my best game.” And she meant it sincerely.
Driving home from a date with Lindsay. “We are the Champions” came on the radio. She asked me who was singing. I said, “I’m not sure but I think this is Queen.” She said that no, it wasn’t. I asked if she knew who it was. She said, “It’s the Champions.”
I asked what the best part of the museum was. Jill said the dinosaur bones. Sam… the elevator. I called Lindsay my mini-me and she responded by calling me her huge-me, which somehow seemed less endearing.
July 2009
Jill, 8, announces career plans: “First I’m going to be an actress, maybe make a few movies, and then I’m going to buy Sea World.”
Night 3 at the forts disappoints. Much chit chat, whispering, and lollygagging. Also questions I can’t answer, such as, “Mom, how do fish drink water?” They taunt me.
Second night for the individual living room forts. Like yesterday, they all went right to sleep in an eerily compliant sort of way. You don’t suppose they are storing up energy, preparing for The Great Coup of ’09?
My kids are sleeping in individual living room forts. I find this adorable.
Sam asked for Bobby McGee as his lullaby. He calls it Bobby BaGee, otherwise known as “the train song.” Knows most of the words! Tonight’s twist? “Mommy, sing it sixty times.” Got upset when I stopped after three.
* * * * *
These guys are my greatest joys. I can’t begin to imagine what they’ll come up with between now and next summer. What are your best kid and grandkid quotes?
Switching Gears
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangKnown as a mystery writer, it seems really odd to be promoting my latest, a romance with a supernatural touch. Actually, I wrote this book long ago because of a tragedy that happened in our family–I think I did it as part of my grieving process. It was only available as an e-book. My publisher wanted to make it into a trade paperback and who am I to argue?
So it is now available in all the usual places. Anyone who wants an autographed copy can order it from my website; http;//fictionforyou.com
My publisher sent copies to the Public Safety Writers Association conference and I really didn’t think it was the type of book that would appeal to cops, FBI and others in the law enforcement fields since it deals with the death of deputy sheriff and what happens after with his wife and kids–but it sold way better than the two mysteries I’d brought.
So, for the next few weeks I’ll be promoting Lingering Spirit while writing the next in my Rocky Bluff P.D. series.
Marilyn
Me and My Protagonist
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangHow much of your main protagonist is autobiographical?
It seems to be a perennial question for fiction writers and I’ve heard it, too, since I started writing the series about Virginia homicide detective Lieutenant Lucinda Pierce. Simply put, in my case, the answer is not much.
For starters, Lucinda is 5’11” and I’m only 5’2”—wishful thinking? Maybe.
Our childhoods bear only the vaguest of similarities. Although I have some of my own traumas, they pale in comparison to the ones in Lucinda’s life. She was a teenager when she watched her mother crumple and die and then heard the gunshot that signaled her father’s suicide. Lucinda’s face is scarred and one eye missing as a result of her attempts to protect another woman during a domestic violence call early in her career as a police officer.
Lucinda and I have very different jobs. Although I write about crime and murder in my non-fiction true crime books and in my fiction series, I’ve never had to draw a gun and no one has ever aimed one at me. Lucinda does that and actually solves cases and puts the bad guys behind bars. I just write about it.
So where do Lucinda and I intersect? In some ways, I created the woman I want to be—a woman who stands up for her principles, empathizes with victims and lets nothing stand in the way of her ardent pursuit for justice. She’s a woman of courage who doesn’t hesitate in the face of danger—one who is ready to barge in where angels feared to tread.
But, I didn’t want to create a Superwoman—I wanted someone real, a person who screws up from time to time, like we all do. I gave her a couple of my flaws, like a constant questioning of authority and a willingness to forgo the permission process and hope to survive the forgiveness part.
Then, I gave her some faults of her own: her aversion to commitment that extended to friendships as well as relationships; an estrangement from her family; permanent impatience with process and occasionally with people; and a pathological aversion to the FBI and male drivers.
To solve the murder, Lucinda needs to untangle the boy’s web of fantasy, unravel the lies that conceal the motive for the crime and travel to Texas in pursuit of a lead. Along the way, she breaks a few rules, irritates a number of people but gets the job done.
She feels very real to me—in fact, I even dreamed about her once, much to my surprise. I like Lucinda Pierce and I admire her. Unfortunately, I’m not really sure about what she’d think of me. Dare I insert a meeting in a future book? Do I really want to know how she’d react? I don’t know—do you?
Diane Fanning
Greatest Hits: My Kids’ Best One-Liners
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto Gangby Rachel Brady
Some of you know that I frequently use my Facebook status to share amusing things my kids say. A friend encouraged me to start saving those gems in a Word file too, and I was recently surprised to find that I’ve been at it now for a year. Here are their Greatest Hits of the last 12 months in reverse chronological order. From the mouths of babes . . .
June 2010
Jill and I were having a general discussion about kids and how they can be tough on furniture. She nodded toward her brother and sister. “That’s why you should have stopped before you had those two.”
While we were driving down the highway, Jill said, “See that place called Kids For Less? You think that’s an adoption center?”
Me, to the kids: “Trust me guys. I’m old and wise.” Lindsay (conciliatory): “Don’t say that, Mom! You’re not wide!”
May 2010
Sam unwittingly corroborated my impressions of last weekend’s slumber party: “Mom, where is that necklace that Lindsay got at her screaming girl party?”
Maybe I use my laptop too much. When asked to name a “D vegetable”, Jill came up with a Dell pepper.
Me, to the slumber party: “Does anyone have to use the restroom before bed?” Visiting child, worried: “Why? Are you going to lock it up for the night?”
Sam: “Are you sorry?” Me: “For what?” Sam: “For not letting me have that piece of caramel this morning.” Me: “No. I’m your mom. It’s my job to make sure you have a real breakfast.” Sam: “No, it’s not. Your job is to push me on the swing.”
Me (thinking I was alone): “Heeeeyy, good lookin’…” Sam, from the other room: “Whaaaatcha got cookin’?”
April 2010
Lullabye update. “Mom, sing that ten more times.” Me: “Ten? That’s too many.” Sam: “How about four times because I’m four?”
My nine year old kid just “yada yada yada”d me.
Doing an art project with Jill, I got: “Looking pretty good, Mom. You should be an artist instead of a scientist or engineer or whatever you are.”
Me to Jill: “Well, one reason I don’t buy you more stuff is because I think it diminishes your appreciation for what you have.” Her reply: “I do appreciate those things, Mom. I’m just saying I’d like to have more things to appreciate.”
Sam wanted an explanation for “butt talk,” and I was concerned he’d come home with some new language for rude behavior, but it turns out he’d only learned the word “buttock,” pronounced Forrest Gump style.
I awoke at 3 a.m. to Jill prowling the house with her reading flashlight, searching for the Easter baskets. By 6:30 a.m. all three were in the back yard vying for the eggs. Red Bull, please.
March 2010
Fun clues I got from the girls playing Catch Phrase: “The hat of Texas” turned out to be Oklahoma, and “Those yellow people on TV” turned out to be The Simpsons.
Sam: “Mom, on your next birthday, wish to be a boy. Then you can pee standing up. Got it?”
Me: “You sure ask me some funny stuff.” Jill: “We’re kids. It’s our job to crack up our moms.”
February 2010
From Lindsay tonight, a note with MOTHER as an acronym: Mom, Outstanding, Terrific, Huggable, “Exelent,” Radiant. What a great way to end my day.
Public service announcement from Sam: “If you get near a jelly fish, stay away from his tempicles.”
Me: “What’s so hard about being a kid?” Jill: “Having a sister.” Me: “I never had one. I think that would be fun.” Jill: “Well, maybe we can switch places sometime. Then you can feel my pain.”
January 2010
Sam: “Is this how you spell your name? O-M-O?” Me: “Pretty close. M-O-M.”:-)
Sam: “Can I have a piece of candy?” Me: “Who’s the best mom ever?” Sam: “You.” I gave the nod. Next it was Jill: “Can I have one? You.”
I was making lasagna, radio playing, when my 4-year-old turned and quoted: “Just the two of us. We can make it if we try, Mom.”
I recently asked Jill if she knew what oatmeal was good for. I was going for “your heart.” Her reply: “Cookies.”
Woke up snuggled next to Sam this morning, who opened his eyes and immediately said, “No singing in the shower, Mom. I want to sleep.”
December 2009
Another round of Outburst with Jill. “Parts of the body that come in pairs”… Jill’s answer: Butt cheeks.
Played Outburst with my girls. Jill’s category was Pizza Toppings and I was trying to clue her into anchovies: “Do you know the name of those disgusting little fish some people put on their pizzas?” She snaps her fingers and her face lights up: “MINNOWS!”
Sam caught the garter tonight. Says he has to find a “yittle girl to get married with.”
Sam put me on the Naughty list. No explanation was offered. The statement was: “I’m putting you on the Naughty list because you’re naughty. How do you spell your name?”
Sam has been giving me stickers this morning. He just confided, “Mom, don’t let Jill see these.” I said, “Are these Jill’s stickers you’ve been bringing me?” He said, “Yes, and if she finds out, it’s gonna be BAD.”
Me (singing): “Oh, Sammy, I love you so! Never never never gonna let you go!” Sam: “Why will you never never never let me go? Does this mean we’ll be stuck here at basketball practice forever?”
Driving in the rain with Sam, a wiper blade came loose: “Uh-oh, Mom. Looks like we need a new car.”
Jill: “Mom, who was the first person on the planet?” Me: “Not sure, I wasn’t there.” Jill: “Sure you were.”
Lindsay: “I love you mom. I hope you never die.” Me: “Love you too, baby. I’ll do my best not to die.” Lindsay: “Me too. I’ll eat a lot of carrots.”
Sam: “Why does the sky have to rain?” Me: “Because clouds are made of water. When they get too full of water, that’s when it rains.” Sam, after a thoughtful pause: “Mom? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
After seeing Lindsay kiss me under the mistletoe, Sam announced that “only one person has to do it,” thereby absolving himself of any kissing-Mom duties. They learn to break hearts young.
November 2009
Jill, on our drive home from Target: “Mom, are there any famous singers besides Taylor Swift and Hannah Montana who aren’t dead?” …Maybe it’s time for me to roll some contemporary artists into the mix.
Sam proclaimed a new allergy, this time to milk. Me: “You’re not allergic to milk.” Sam: “I am.” Me: “Do you know what ice cream is made of?” Sam: “What?” Me: “Milk.” Sam: “No. Ice.” Me: “Afraid not. Milk.” Sam: “Then why is it ice cream?” Me: “Cream is made from milk.” Sam: “I know that mom.” And I have these conversations why?
Lindsay on orbits: “It’s like the sun is just sitting there, watching TV. Being lazy. The Earth wants some exercise, so it runs around the sun, around and around. And the moon wants in on it too, so it runs around the Earth.”
Sam asks for the crust to be removed from his sandwich. Claims allergy to crust.
Crimebake writers’ conference is having a costume banquet Saturday evening… anything from the late 1800s to mid-1900s. I asked Sam if he’d help me find a costume today, and he expressed strong feelings that I attend as a vampire.
Tough Mommy moment tonight. The note I found waiting at Jill’s room: “Keep out! Don’t touch! Don’t donate! Stay out of our stuff! Stay out of our tareotory!” I don’t think my efforts at clutter elimination were appreciated.
Watching Sam’s soccer practice together, Jill was telling me about her friend’s theories regarding gerbil heaven when she randomly smacked me in the side of the head: “Mosquito.” And then right back to what she was saying.
October 2009
Jill’s new career aspiration: “Mom, when I grow up I’m going to write commercials for food, but only for the foods I like. Oatmeal, candy, and cookie dough.”
Jill and Lindsay’s new way to mess with Sam: tell him he’s “fired” as uncle to their pets. You would not believe how many times my shower was interrupted with complaints from a recently fired three-year-old.
Jill: “Mama, when you’re a Grandma are you going to spoil our kids like Grandpa spoils us, or are you going to act to them the way you act to us?” Me: “I’ll probably spoil them.” Jill: (squinting at me and pointing a finger…) “Naughty.”
Me: “Whose birthday is it today?” Sam: “Jill’s.” Me: “How old is she?” Sam: “Nine.” Me: “How old is Lindsay?” Sam: “Seven.” Me: “How old are you?” Sam: “Free and… a half.” Me: “How old am I?” Sam: “Seventy.”
All together now, to the tune of “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain”: Water travels in a cycle, yes it does. Water travels in a cycle, yes it does. It goes up as evaporation then comes down as precipitation, water travels in a cycle, yes it does.
Lindsay is singing “King of the Road” in the bathtub, but her lyric is slightly off: “Two hours of pushing broom buys an eighth or twelve four do soon.”
Jill asked whether there were TVs when I was a kid. That one kind of made my stomach flutter.
I was just admonished by a three-year-old. My speaking while he played GameBoy apparently caused him to die.
September 2009
On the way home from school, Jill asked, “Mom, you know how you look right now? Is that as good as you can do, or can you look better?” I replied that I was sure I could do a lot better. “What prompted that?” I asked. She described a facial product on TV that makes women look younger and finished with her hands up defensively: “Not that you need it! I’m just sayin’.”
Getting ready for my lunch with some big-wigs at work, I told Sam I was going to be having lunch with some scary people. He asked, “Are they Halloween people?” Jill’s advice was simply not to order the okra since, I guess, that’s the only thing that might really make a bad impression. Lately, all of Lindsay’s make-believe characters are talking with British accents.
Sam: “Mommy, can I watch SpongeBob Squarepants?” Me: “You know mommy doesn’t like SpongeBob.” Sam: “Then don’t yook at him.”
Jill turns her attention to marketing. “If IHOP changed their name to *Incredible* House of Pancakes, I bet they’d get more business.”
August 2009
When Sam goes swimming he requires a “babing suit and gobbles.”
I was getting out of the shower and Jill kept talking to me through the bathroom door so much that I felt like I was being stalked. I told her to go play. “I can’t,” she said. “I accidentally tied myself to the door knob.”
Sam, reflecting on his soft pretzel today at the zoo: “Mm. This white stuff’s super good.” (the salt)
I must be getting predictable. I told Sam, “I think I’ll put on some music.” He said, “Patsy Cline, mom?” Which I thought was fun enough. So I told him yes. And he said, “She’s *Crazy*.”
Took the kids to see a movie at the local *Cinema 6*, but Sam was under the impression we were going out for “Cinnamon Sticks.”
Another Jill classic: “If Johnny Cash were alive would you let him sign your guitar?” “Yes.” “I wish I could sign your guitar.” “If you ever do I’ll kill you.” “What? You love me more than Johnny Cash but he could sign it and I can’t? Well, that’s just weird.”
Jill and Lindsay asked me why Nintendo doesn’t make a Gamegirl.
Me: “Why is there a soccer goal in my bathroom?” Jill: “I just felt like it.”
Lindsay smoked me at air hockey. While playing, she said, “Sorry to do this to you, Mom. I’m not even playing my best game.” And she meant it sincerely.
Driving home from a date with Lindsay. “We are the Champions” came on the radio. She asked me who was singing. I said, “I’m not sure but I think this is Queen.” She said that no, it wasn’t. I asked if she knew who it was. She said, “It’s the Champions.”
I asked what the best part of the museum was. Jill said the dinosaur bones. Sam… the elevator. I called Lindsay my mini-me and she responded by calling me her huge-me, which somehow seemed less endearing.
July 2009
Jill, 8, announces career plans: “First I’m going to be an actress, maybe make a few movies, and then I’m going to buy Sea World.”
Night 3 at the forts disappoints. Much chit chat, whispering, and lollygagging. Also questions I can’t answer, such as, “Mom, how do fish drink water?” They taunt me.
Second night for the individual living room forts. Like yesterday, they all went right to sleep in an eerily compliant sort of way. You don’t suppose they are storing up energy, preparing for The Great Coup of ’09?
My kids are sleeping in individual living room forts. I find this adorable.
Sam asked for Bobby McGee as his lullaby. He calls it Bobby BaGee, otherwise known as “the train song.” Knows most of the words! Tonight’s twist? “Mommy, sing it sixty times.” Got upset when I stopped after three.
* * * * *
These guys are my greatest joys. I can’t begin to imagine what they’ll come up with between now and next summer. What are your best kid and grandkid quotes?
Summer Reading List
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangLazy summer days are perfect for ready a drop dead excellent mystery. Cozies are my favorites. I definitely go through phases, and I’m in one now, devouring as many books as I can, using my time to enjoy new authors and reacquaint myself with old favorites.
Here’s a list of some great cozy mystery authors to dive into when you have a lazy summer day.
Agatha Christie = Mystery
Agatha’s the goddess of the the murder mysteries. Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot are two of the most recognizable sleuths in fiction and live on even today. Of course I have fond memories of Tommy and Tuppence, too, as my mom named two of our cats Tommy and Tuppence.
Cat Among the Pigeons was one of my favorites (I spent my entire high school career holed up in a math classroom during lunch reading Grand Dame Agatha’s books… no dances, no dates, no prom, just mysteries!).
All of her books may not be traditionally cozy, but she’ll always be my favorite.
Other authors I’m loving at the moment are:
Wendy Lyn Watson and her mystery ala mode books (book 2 will be out in September!). Ice cream and mystery, what’s not to love?
Heather Webber and Truly, Madly, not to mention Deeply, Desperately. Matchmaker mysteries? LOVE them.
Juliet Blackwell and her Witchcraft Mysteries. Now, I am in the middle of this book and I am really enjoying it. It has la Llorona in it! I wrote a romantic suspense that centered on la Llorona, so I was destined to love this.
Annette Blair and her Vintage Magic Mysteries. Vintage clothing store, ghosts, and small New England living. Just my cup of tea.
Charlaine Harris and her Aurora Teagarden and Lily Bard Mysteries. I haven’t tried Harper Connelly… any thoughts?
These are just a few of the many, many books on my tall, tall stack.
I’d love other suggestions, though, so I know what to move to the top (stiletto books excepted, as the high-heeled lady’s books already some of my faves!!).
Go ahead, help me craft my summer reading list!
~Misa
And check out Word Filled Writer’s Workshop Wednesday!! ( you can still play along, even though it’s Thursday, now! )
The Word Count
/in Uncategorized/by Stiletto GangI’ve been writing about “counts” a lot–pitch counts, word counts…when I get to “blood counts,” cut me off, okay?
A friend of mine, Jessica Park, author of the delightful Gourmet Girl mysteries, posed a question on Facebook a few weeks back. She wanted to know what her fellow authors’ daily word count was. In other words, how many words does each author aspire to write every day? People chimed in with a variety of responses, from “1000words is a great day for me,” to “any amount as long as they’re good.” I’m paraphrasing, but you get the drift. My response?
“If it’s the week before deadline, 45,000. Otherwise, 10.”
I’m really hoping my editor, also a Facebook friend, didn’t see that confession.
Due to the fact that I work full time—or maybe because I have Attention Deficit Disorder—I have a very scattershot approach to writing. If the mood strikes, I’ll put everything aside for an hour or two and write away. For instance, I had a great idea for the current work-in-progress last week, and banged out 5000 words, some of them pretty good, the rest just okay. That’s what revision is for. To my mind right now, though, they are there and they are words and they count. Other weeks, I won’t touch the WIP at all, focusing instead on my paying work, for which I have rolling deadlines and obligations that eat up anywhere between eight and twelve hours every day.
My deadline every year for a new Alison Bergeron mystery is New Year’s Eve. Generally, by about October, I have three quarters of a first draft which I mull over between Halloween and December 1st. Then, once December hits, I kick it into high gear and write the rest of the first draft, focusing on revising while trying to Christmas shop, meet work deadlines, and decorate the house for the holidays. All in all, December is a very stressful month. I usually finish the shopping, I always finish the book, and I never decorate the house to my liking.
I wish I was one of those writers who could sit down and bang out a thousand or so words every day, regardless of whether or not they are good words. I find that the more I write, the better I become and the more I want to write. But life—and work—keep intervening and I have a hard time finding a routine that works for me.
There are things I should do in order to establish a writing routine. Let’s ignore them for the time being and focus, instead, on things I won’t do to establish a regular writing routine:
1. Get up at 4 a.m. Some things are just not worth the bother.
2. Stay up until midnight. How would I get my ten hours of beauty sleep with that bed time?
3. Write on the weekends. This will only happen between the dates December 15th and December 31st. (Remember that yearly deadline?)
4. Write during my lunch hour. Lunch hour? What’s that?
5. Write at the local coffee shop to avoid interruptions. That would involve leaving the house. And that’s just not going to happen.
What do you do to establish a writing schedule? And what is your daily word count?
Maggie Barbieri
Murphy’s Law
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangRight before we left for the conference, I learned that one of the board members who also serves as the m.c. for the conference had been bitten by a spider and had a terrible infection and couldn’t come. His wife is the treasurer of the group and the one who takes care of book sales and of course she stayed home to care for her hubby.
My hubby, poor put upon soul who always helped the treasurer, stepped up to the plate and worked his you know what all weekend taking care of all the money that came in for books, extra lunches, and extra days at the conference. (He was too busy to fall asleep, something he’s done on past occasions.)
The president of the group m.c.’d and did a great job.
I took lots of pictures–and yes, some of the women who participated, but then my iPhone died and I couldn’t send them to my computers.
Two of my panels had to switch times because of a speaker having to leave early to catch a plane.
Other than that the conference really was terrific. The photos are of best selling author, Simon Wood, who was our keynote speaker and told us all about how to create suspense in our stories whether they be mysteries or thrillers. Simon also has the most wry sense of humor and is super friendly.
The other fellow is Kregg Jorgenson, who besides being Vietnam war hero, also has been in about every law enforcement organization there is including Homeland Security and the Border Patrol. He talked about how to sell articles to any kind of magazine. Terrific!
Sunny Frazier gave a presentation on how much sex is too much in a mystery–and she’d asked a lot of authors and the general consensus came down to whether or not the sex moved the plot along. Needless to say she held her audience’s attention.
Michael Black gave us a demonstration on how to plot a book in an hour that was terrific–complete with all kinds of colored post-it notes.
Morgan St. James gave a terrific presentation on POV. Retired FBI agent, Mark Bouton, gave us a demonstration complete with pictures about how to tell if someone is telling a lie.
We had lots of panels on all sorts of writing topics from using supernatural elements in our books to writing for trade publications.
Unlike many writing conferences, this one has one track and almost everyone stays for the whole day despite the call of the slot machines.
I told my husband it sure was a lot more fun to go to a conference where you never know what went wrong then to be the one who had to solve all the problems.
Despite all this, everyone had a great time and as soon as I recover, I’ll start working on next year’s program.
Marilyn
Vacation Anyone?
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangI Know I Need a Vacation When ….
On a Serious Note: I’ve been to the Gulf Coast several times – New Orleans, Gulf Port, Biloxi, Ship Island, etc. It hurts to think about the damage the oil is causing to the environment and to the people who are losing a way of life. I hope the leaking oil well is plugged soon and we – the nation – find a way to prevent any similar environmental disasters in the future. I know we need the oil – but we have to protect our oceans and marshes too.
Rhonda
aka The Southern Half of Evelyn David
In the Pink
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto Gangby Susan McBride
Last Saturday, I woke up to the alarm buzzing at 6 a.m. and quickly dressed in my running shoes, yoga pants, and my hot pink T-shirt so I’d be ready at 6:30 when my ride showed up to head downtown for this year’s Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. St. Louis turned pink that day, from the fountain at Kiener Plaza to pink “ribbons” plastered on the sides of buildings. It was my fourth Race since I finished radiation treatment after my diagnosis of breast cancer
in December of 2006, and I felt much different than I had back in June of 2007 when I first participated. Being a survivor was new to me then. Heck, I’d never felt “sick” in the first place, even after an MRI confirmed I had a lump in my left boob. It’s amazing how three little words like “You’ve got cancer” can change your life.
Although I’d tried to stay fit during my surgeries and rad therapy, it meant strolling on the treadmill or unloading the dishwasher so that my left arm could regain enough mobility to finally reach the top cabinet shelf. When I walked in the Race in 2007 with Ed, my good friend and fellow survivor Shelly, and Shelly’s hubby Jerry, I didn’t know what to expect. Would I even be able to finish the 5k? Would someone bump my left boob (I was afraid of that for a loooong time)? Would I be so overwhelmed that I’d cry?
Shelly and I did skip the “Survivors’ Walk,” which they do early on before the Race starts, because she warned me it was very, very emotional. I decided that I’d done enough bawling after my diagnosis, and I prefered to avoid further tears. So we ran around to some of the freebie booths (Ed thinks it’s funny that women who survive breast cancer aren’t afraid to trample each other to collect bags of free loot). Then we took our Race team pictures, and I hung out with some of the St. Louis Public Library team members (love those library ladies!). Music blared and people hugged, and a sense of affirmation bubbled up inside me so that I had tears in my eyes anyway!
Once the Race started, we were all business. I remember Shelly and Jerry booking so fast I wondered how I’d ever keep up! I kept downing bottled water as I walked, telling myself, “You can do this, you can do this.” That was important somehow, just finishing the Race and not collapsing. People cheering the Racers from the sidewalks hooted especially loud when Shelly and I passed in our “Survivor” T-shirts. At first, that unnerved me. Why all the fuss? What had I done? I mused until I realized we stood for something to them: HOPE. If we had survived and were fit enough to briskly walk a 5k, then, by God, they could climb over obstacles, too.
This year, it was weird to imagine that I’m 3-1/2 years post-diagnosis. I felt strong as I walked–and, baby, I walked fast!–and, once again, I was initially surprised to hear the loud cheers from the sidelines. Although now it’s more because I feel very ordinary compared to the many women I’ve met since my diagnosis who’ve gone through what I’ve gone through (and much tougher stuff, too). I am surrounded by these ladies–my heroes–on a daily basis, and I don’t know what I’d do without them. When I whine about aches and pains, they make me laugh and, as importantly, they m
ake me feel like I’m normal (or at least as normal as I’ll ever be!). Because if there’s one thing that having had cancer takes away from you, it’s the sense of normalcy. Oh, yeah, the scars it leaves on your skin have nothing on the havoc it’s wreaked in your head.
Although when you’re walking in a sea of over 71,000 people, nearly 5,000 of them survivors, as I did at the Race this past Saturday, you realize how NOT alone you are. Once you’re a member of this huge pink army, you’re a member for life.
P.S. Speaking of being in the pink, I’ve got a PINK, GEEK, AND CHIC CONTEST going on at my web site. You could win a hot pink tote bag, some hot books, and a DVD of “Star Trek” (the one with Chris Pine as Capt. Kirk)! Good luck!
A New Deal
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangI’m so excited to announce that I have a new mystery deal. A straight cozy mystery with NAL. I’ll be publishing under a pseudonym (which is actually my given name–mom and dad are SO happy about that!). Here’s the PW blurb my agent sent it.
She’s a Lady!
/in Uncategorized/by The Stiletto GangIt kind of bothered me for a while that high heels make me taller than nearly everyone around, but then I realized I was doing it mostly for me, as a reminder that there is a lady hidden deep down inside this fiction-churning machine. I don’t use that word – “lady” – lightly. As a not-too-closeted feminist, I’ve had an uncomfortable relationship with the word and its throwback overtones.
A lady carries a satchel purse to church containing pink lipstick and enough tissues for the entire congregation; she’s already put the bread on to rise and cleaned up from breakfast and ironed everyone’s shirts before the rest of the house gets their teeth brushed. A lady doesn’t have much say over anything, her politics are considered unimportant, and when she gets to be a certain age she’s expected to fade quietly from view. This word used to give me such fits, in fact, that I wouldn’t let my kids use it when they were little. I know this sounds a little deranged, but if they uttered the word in public – say in reference to the clerk ringing up their little bitty Boy Scout shirt – I would say “No, sweetie, that is not a ‘lady’ – that is a woman.”
Woman woman woman. I drilled that word into them, despite their sweet juvenile confusion; I’m sure it led to some interesting conversations at school. (“Miss Pringle? My mom says that’s a bad word….”) What changed my thinking? Why, Stella, of course.
Stella is the 50-year-old heroine of my mystery series. A BAD DAY FOR SORRY introduced her last year, a small-town woman who killed her husband with a wrench after 30 years of abuse, and then started up a business helping other women take care of their own abusers. You could say that Stella’s business is “pro-woman” to a fault. But to my surprise, as I wrote this character into life, I discovered that she was also enthusiastically, defiantly, unrepentantly a LADY. She likes her girly stuff and woe to anyone who suggests that isn’t seemly. In fact, Stella goes way past me on the girly continuum and looking back, I think I created her in my subconscious idea of what an extreme example of femininity would be (not counting the, uh, beating the crap out of men part). She is very curvy, uses a lot of perfume for special nights out, and treats every child with buckets of maternal attention. I love Stella. I do! I adore her, everything about her, including her flaws and contradictions. And while I may be heading into split-personality territory here, I think she has freed my long-buried softer side to come up to the surface a little.
I now think there’s a little bit of “lady” in every woman. I can still get a little political about it (uh, hey, idiots who are terrified of women in positions of power and have to accuse every female Supreme Court candidate of being gay to make your little limp selves feel manly, I’m sendin’ Stella after YOU) but most of the time I can celebrate it in spirited good fun. I’ve also been delighted to discover lots of kindred souls among my fellow women authors.
So tell me, what makes you feel most like a lady – in the best sense of the word? I’ll choose one commenter to receive a signed copy of A BAD DAY FOR PRETTY.
Sophie Littlefield
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