Prom

Remember when Prom Season rolled around? If you weren't dating someone exclusively, you had a 50/50 shot you'd get asked to the Prom. Now, some women had nerves of steel and (remember I'm old and women's lib was just starting out when I was in high school) would ask a guy instead of waiting for him to ask her. I wasn't one of those girls.

Now all through high school I was in love with Ricky. (I think I still might be 40 years later.) We dated sporadically, he was All-American in football, wrestling, baseball. He didn't have time for a serious girlfriend. I respected that.

Junior year I waited nervously through April and May for him to ask me. I faithfully went to every one of his sports games during the year, helped him with his Lit thesis (he wasn't very good in English), and basically prayed nightly for him to ask me. He didn't. He asked Kathleen. To say I was disappointed was an understatement.

Senior year was a little different. As luck would have it, we went to a football party and ended up hooking up. (No, there was no sex involved.) We were "together" (although back in those days, if he didn't give you his school ring or his letter jacket, you really weren't). So, I waited patiently. Sometime around the last wrestling match Debbie made a play for him. And it stuck. She had his ring AND his jacket. To say I was devastated was an understatement.

(They've been married for 40 years now. But I'm still not over her underhandedness. EVERYONE knew I liked Ricky. A LOT. And I thought he liked me too. Guess I was wrong.)

You may be asking -- What in God's name does Prom have to do with ANYTHING? Well, ever since I made the announcement I'm going to self-publish, that's how I feel... like it's two weeks before the dance and I'm still without a date.

I've queried my brains out with my three books. Every agent, like a prospective date, and they've all turned me down. Sure, I've had one or two partials and even a full request, (Which is like dinner and a movie) but no one's said, "Sure, I'd love to take you to Prom."

Now back in the day, there was a group of girls who couldn't get dates and decided to chip in and rent a limo and all go together. That wasn't really done in those days. We looked on them with more than a little pity. Not that there was anything wrong with them, they just hadn't been asked. Let me tell you, looking back, if I knew then what I know now, I would have gone to Prom with them.

With this whole self-publishing thing, it seems I'm feeling those same feelings all over again. No date for the Prom -- do I want to scramble for a bad date, or do I want to go with the girls?

Do I want to keep scrambling to try and get an agent? Or do I want to go it alone and join a group of indie authors who seem to be having all the fun?

I've run through both sides of the spectrum, pro's and con's. I've gnashed my teeth, wrung my hands, spent many a sleepless night, pored over blogs and articles. Yes, I have decided to self-publish, but the knot in my stomach is bigger than any I had about Prom.

Tell me -- Is there a situation in your life where you feel like it's Prom all over again?

Heavens to Murgatroid!

Well, Good Morning. Finally. I know I'm late with my post today. I'll bet you can't guess why. I'll tell you. I slept late. I slept until eight o'clock. Which I haven't done since -- I can't remember. And do you want to know why I slept until eight o'clock.

Monster Child slept in her own bed last night. For the first time. (Actually technically, it was the third time, but this was the first time she initiated it on her own.)

I made the decision of keeping her, first, in her bassinet in our bedroom, when I brought her home from the hospital. Breast feeding and all that. And then in our bed when she went through growth spurts, and then, well, she wouldn't go down in her crib and would scream bloody murder, and I just couldn't stand to listen to the poor thing so in our bed she came. When her father and I split up, naturally she wouldn't leave me, and I didn't bug her about it.

What precipitated the change of sleeping venue, you ask? I'm not exactly sure, but I think it's because her bedroom is finally finished. Sure it's always been inhabitable, bed, desk, chair, teddies (bears not pj's), dressers, tv/vcr (spoiled rotten), but I've never been happy with it. There's always been something wrong -- the curtains, the bookcase, the lamp, the chair. So last week I bought two (better) bookcases for her room, new curtains, rearranged the furniture and BAM! Her room, in my eyes, was finally done.

And I guess in hers as well.

I've read the child rearing books, I've had other parents turn their nose up at me for saying I raised Monster Child in a family bed, our doctor even questioned my choice. They all warned me about the possible outcomes, all bad, all negative. I don't think it's fostered anything other than a loving comfortable stable atmosphere at home. No matter how much we scream and yell (she soooo takes after my Type A personalilty and challenges me on EVERYTHING) there's always a giggle and snuggle in bed. I always know where she is, can hear her breathing. (When she was so sick for so long I would stay up all night and just listen to her breath. I had a lot of conversations with God on those nights.)

I knew it would only be a matter of time before SHE decided she would sleep in her own room. I have the patience of a saint (or so I've been told.) Last night, she went up to my room (with the DVD player) and I stayed downstairs to watch Masterpiece Mystery. I figured she fell asleep like she always does. At 10:30 she was still awake. It's summer now, I don't really care what time she goes to bed -- sort of.

She said, "I want you to put up my Princess tent on my bed. I'm going to sleep in my own room."

It's 10:30 on a Sunday night. I DO NOT want to fuss with the Princess tent. I'm tired, I have a lot to do on Monday. However, who am I to turn down spreading out in my own bed for the first time in six years. I snapped that tent together in record time, tucked her in, kissed her good-night, and jumped in my own glorious queen size bed all by myself. I sank blissfully into my pillows, not worrying about if she's cold, or moving an ankle or elbow, not wondering if one of us was going to fall out of bed.

Did I sleep the sleep I've been longing for? NO! I tossed and turned, had horrible, horrible nightmares, got up 3 times to check on her. She came in and woke me up at six a.m. I told her to go back to sleep, it was too early. That's MY usual time to get up. I laid there after she left and debated about getting up. Next thing I knew, the sun was streaming through the windows. I glanced at the clock and to my horror, it was eight a.m. I lost two hours to my Monday. Oh well.

Now I realize my Monday posts are supposed to be about love. I guess today's post is about unconditional love.

Tell me -- Have you bucked tradition where your kids are concerned? Have you done anything for them that other parents might raise an eyebrow over? Do you allow them things or freedoms that you didn't have as a child?

A Personal Choice

Last week I proposed what The Ultimate Novel means to us, and it seems we were all thinking along the same lines. In describing our books, we all just want them to be read.

Anyway, I've been doing a lot, and I mean a LOT of thinking these last few weeks about the state of the publishing world. I know, most of you have been as well. It makes one's head spin. Well, mine anyway.

And I decided that I am definitely going to give e-publishing a try. I know, I vowed I would never e-pub, I vowed I wanted an agent and all the NY hooplah, but as an artist, I'm kind of feeling like I'm trussed up in a straight jacket.

Dancers dance. Singers sing. Actors act. Writers write. But I have no audience. I've been holed up in my little office writing away with no one to read what I've written except for my critters and betas. It's frustrating. I want to have an audience. Call me a narcissist if you must, but I want to share my writing with people who want to read a book about love and longing. I have these great stories (well, at least that's what my betas and critters tell me), but no one can read them.

And most of you are doing the same thing. You're writing books for an audience, but no one can read them. Yet, how can they read them if they aren't published? Even if I got an agent and a publishing contract tomorrow, the book still wouldn't come out until 2013. By that time, I'm sure you'd have forgotten all about Genna and Tony and Pete. Maybe you already have. And sure, I could put the whole thing up on my blog for free, but you know, writing is a job and I would like to get paid for it at some point. (Monster Child wants a pony.)

I still have several queries and a partial out on two different books, so I'm not officially in the e-pub club yet. If I did my calculations right, by the end of July everything should be in from agents. And I think if I play my cards right, maybe by September, I could have an e-book out there. I think there might be one or two of you who would drop $2.99 to find out what happened to Ellis and Violet, or Penny and Will? Wouldn't you? How about 99 cents for Genna and Tony?

So, that's what I've been thinking about. I know there's more to the whole e-pubbing phenomenon than just formatting and uploading, and I'm not especially computer literate, so I'm kind of scared. But I have to say, I really think my mind's made up. Even more so since I received a lovely rejection letter from an agent who wrote -- "This story does sound intriguing, however, I'm just not sure I can place it." (Can't place a single-title sweet Regency romance? Hello Harlequin -- Avon -- St. Martins. I've done my homework, how about you? Sounds like a brush-off to me.)

Tell me, have YOU given e-publishing some thought, or more thought than you used to?

Sexy Blue Toenails

Good morning. You might wonder what sexy blue toenails have to do with the topic of love. Well, I'll tell you.

Now, I was never a Christie Brinkley, Elle MacPhearson kind of girl but I had my own mojo when it came to being attractive. I was Rubenesque, Zoftig, pleasingly plump in all the right places. I had curves. I was also toned and had great muscle placement. I could turn a head or two in my day.

Hitting middle age has definitely shown me what gravity is all about. Trying not to be too pessimistic about what I look like these days, I try and remember the old adage -- what I lack in beauty, I make up in wisdom. Most days it doesn't matter what I look like. Although now it's summertime, I would like to get into a bathing suit that doesn't have triple digits for a size.

My one consolation, I've always had great feet. I've always painted my toenails a deep red in summer. What is it the make-up gurus say, "Show off your assets." While at the dollar store, Monster Child spied some nail polish and I consented. Her choice of colors were florescent chartreuse, navy blue with sparkles, and a pink that I did not care for. We got home and she happily painted her toes chartreuse and her fingers pink. (Matching her dress for church -- my mother was aghast.)

Any-hoo, she kept bugging me to paint my toes. My red was chipped and fading, so I decided, on a whim, to paint them the navy blue with sparkles as a lark. Why the hell not? It's not like the fashion police were going to arrest me.

They actually looked quite sexy, if I do say so. A couple of days later, I had to get gas and walked into the Hess station, not even aware what I looked like. Same old me, navy blue shorts, pink top, white Dr. Scholl's (the wooden ones from 25 years ago). The Pepsi driver was standing in my way, so I said "Excuse me," and tried to sidle by him. He looked me up and down, flicked me a weird expression, and looked down again at my feet. And then he smiled at me, I mean really smiled and said, "No, excuse me." And looked down again at my feet . Hmmm.

I suppose one can never really tell what another person will find attractive. It's said you make up your mind about someone within 3 seconds of seeing them. I wonder what he thought about my toes. (Then again, maybe I don't.)

Tell me -- What attracts you to another person? Is there one definable aspect you look at first? What grabs you in 3 seconds?

The Ultimate Novel

Good Morning. Today I want to discuss The Ultimate Novel. The one book in the whole world that you would go through hell fire and back again for. The one that makes your heart race and keeps your fingers turning the pages. The one that you cannot put down, no matter how much the kids, the hubs, the dogs are screaming for dinner.

I'm talking about yours. Your book. The one that's kept you up well past bedtime going over that one niggly scene. The one that's fried your brain trying to find all the 'thats' and 'was' and 'just' and 'reallys'. The one that drove you to go to the optometrist for a new prescription because the dollar store cheapies just weren't cutting it anymore.

The Ultimate Novel that is either going to make, or break you.

I've written three. So far. I'm not broken, yet, but I'm also not made. It's been an ongoing battle to find the right words, to hone my craft, to distinguish between good writing and lazy writing. This writing thing I do keeps me up at night fine- tuning my scenes, my plot lines, my characters. It gives me ideas at the most inconvenient times, like a funeral, a graduation, Home Depot, and I'm usually without a piece of paper, so any scrap will do until I can get home and type away at the keyboard.

The Ulitmate Novel. I know when I let my beta readers finally read it, my stomach turns itself inside out a thousand times before I hear back from them. And you know, it's not about if the book is good or bad or needs work, it's about them reading it. It's about finally having an audience for something I've written.

That to me is what The Ultimate Novel is. It's not really about being published, or getting an agent, or even making the NY Times best seller list. It's about being read. It's about having someone tell me, "Hey, that was a pretty good book." It's about knowing that I touched someone else with something I've written. That alone is worth the hours struggling, writing, deleting, rewriting, editing, formatting.

What does The Ultimate Novel mean to you?

Somewhere Beyond the Sea

Good Morning. Remember that old Bobby Darrin tune?

Somewhere beyond the sea,
somewhere waiting for me,
my lover stands on golden sands,
and watches the ships go sailing.

Okay, for those of you who have no clue, well, let's just say, it's an oldie but goodie. Like me.

This song has haunted me, haunted me I tell you, for years. This is my theme song. If a person could have such a thing, this would be mine.

Because it's Monday, and I'm talking about love today, this is my theme song for love. Somehow, I've gotten it stuck in my head, that my One and Only, Soul Mate, Other Half, Significant Other, is on a distant shore somewhere, waiting for me. Why he hasn't found me yet, I haven't a clue. I mean, am I supposed to look for him? Are we supposed to meet half-way? Don't know.

And literally, I've had this song in my head for decades. DEC-ADES people. I keep telling my mother I want to go to Ireland. She thinks it's so I can find the family tree and all that, but really, it's so I can cruise the beaches, or boat yards, and see if there's a sweet red-headed Irishman waiting for me. Yeah, I know, I am a little nuts.

Why I think he's on a distant shore is beyond me. I mean, really, he could be in Florida, or Oregon, maybe even Texas. I think it's the accent. Irish, Scottish, British. That's why I watch so much BBC telly.

Okay, enough soul baring for one day.

Tell me -- Do you have a theme song for love? Not "our song" or your wedding song, but a song that you feel best describes how you feel about love?

The Piedmont Grille is Now Closed

Good Morning, my darlings. Sorry to say, the Piedmont Grille will be closed for the summer. Monster Child is getting out of school today, my mother and I discussed the plans for our upcoming vacation in July, and I have not one, not two, but three books to write over the summer. (Gotta love that pressure.)

I think with summer, we all take a break. I remember last year, there was hardly anyone around, with vacations, kids, and the unrelenting heat, I know I was hardly coherent when I was here. And then, sometime around the second week in September, it was like the swallows in Capistrano -- we all came back full force. And that was nice.

I will still be posting on Monday and Wednesday for awhile. I leave for Rhode Island on July 18 and won't return until the 30 (if you really wanted to know my itinerary) and then Monster Child returns to school on August 10, so you know the drill, shopping for the various resources. I have to say a hiatus does sound imminent. There will be no internet in RI and as it is a vacation, I think it would behoove me to be unconnected.

I have been trying to keep my posts regulated to a stricter schedule - Monday for Romance issues and Wednesday for Writing issues and I think that was working really well for me. I may still try and do that, although, who knows what my mind will come up with.

Don't get me wrong, I love my Friday's here at the Grille. But for the summer, I think it would be better for me to let them go. At least until September.

I hope you all have a great weekend. I'll see you on Monday.