Amie Stuart ~ On the Back Porch

So I’m planning at least one workshop for Left Behind and Loving It but I’d like to do more than give away books and gift certificates. I’d like to do something that would help an author out.

Would the writers out there be more interested in me giving away a couple of query critiques or maybe me critiquing the first five pages of your work??? I”m totally game and would love to do this, so please leave your thoughts below!

Otherwise, it’s hotter than Hell here and the kids being out of school are totally throwing me off schedule.  Not to mention a tree fell on the house–we’re fine.  It wasn’t actually a tree, more of a branch–that’s as big as a tree and taking up half my back yard. Pics to come as soon as I find the camera cord.

At least I’ve been reading:

Shoot the Moon by Billie Letts

Wake by Lisa McMann (picked up Fade at Target this morning.  U would be proud-I only bought one book)

Red’s Hot Honky Tonk Bar by Pamela Morsi (which I got in the mail from Borders yesterday).  Yes I”ll admit it was the cover that caught my eye

I told Jackie it’s really sad–I got two books yesterday, Wake and The Neighbor less than a week ago,  Need by Carrie Jones, which I still haven’t read, about a month ago and at least half a dozen from the UBS about five or six weeks ago.  In my defense I HAVE read some of them! LOL

Oh and HAYYYYYYYY My Pimpin Poobah vid is up at Ann Aguirres!

Not to sound disrespectful. I have all the love in the world for Marvin…and to be frank it was either Marvin or Jesus…maybe I should have gone for Jesus. Anyway I have to get a couple of things off my chest.

1. Yeah it’s real sad that Farrah died, but it’s not like she didn’t warn us. And as to her son being in prison and not being able to see her. Uh, why do peeps usually go to prison? *nods* exactly.

2. Yeah it’s real sad that MJ is dead, but the years of creepy he gave us (and Lord help me, I’m trying really hard to not judge and failing miserably), far outweighed his musical legacy–at least in my mind. And rumor has it he was broke.

So if you look beyond the fact that two pieces of my youth died yesterday, all you’re left with is this: a washed up actress and a broke, creepy singer died yesterday.

As Gwen Tweeted, “Wonders if OJ died today, we’d all be talking about what a great football player he was.” I said on Twitter, and I’ll say it again, I can’t think of one actor/famous person whose death would make me cry or upset me or leave me reeling. I feel a lot worse over the state of our country than I do about MJ’s death–soldiers are dying every day in a war I’d love to see us pull out of, people are losing their houses and their jobs and their cars, people can’t find work, and last I heard, the Governor of Texas declined to accept the extra Unemployment funds offered by the Feds.

I guess it just amazes me how everything can come to a screeching halt, and how everyone can come together to raise hell over Swine Flu and the protests in Iran (and I mean no disrespect), (or dare I say, the latest RWA ClusterFuck), but where were the protests last summer when gas was 4.00/gallon and food prices were climbing?

Exactly….We all just bent over and said, “stick it to me again. And please, less lube this time.” Anyone looked at the price of gas lately? Yeah okay so it’s only up about .50/gal but it went up in a 2-3 week period and that extra small bit you’re paying is going to equal millions for Exxon/Mobil etc.

Sometimes I really wish I could care less.

Yes, that is a real smoked turkey he’s sitting on (and his name is Ham :D)

***

Dear BelleBooks,

Why can’t I order your books from Borders.com?

***

From Publishers Marketplace:

Chelsea Campbell’s debut THE RISE OF RENEGADE X, pitched as KING DORK meets The Incredibles, in which a sixteen-year old boy’s plans to become a professional evil genius just like his supervillain mom are derailed when he discovers the dad he never knew is actually an irritating, good-deed doing superhero

Kristen Landon’s THE LIMIT, in which kids are suddenly being taken away to special workhouses if their families exceed their monthly financial spending limit imposed by the government; one boy feels secure with his parents spending patterns, but all it takes is one fatal visit to the store to push his family over their limit– and to change his reality forever

I post that because I once asked a friend of mine what would have happened to us if we hadn’t discovered RWA and the rules of writing “romance”?  How much more daring do you think we would have been? How many more rules would we have broken (and not worried about breaking)?  How many more chances might we have taken with our writing?

I pose the question, not because romance or RWA are Evol, but because I think if you’re not stepping outside of your reading comfort zone, you might have a hard time stepping out of your writing comfort zone.

***

Have you ever read something so gorgeously written that it kinda made you want to cry because you’d never do anything half so good?

The story, on the loose now, raced through the community like an unbridled child.  Rumors climbed over backyard fences, skipped from street to street, romped down the aisles of Wal-Mart, tumbled through the Laundromat and cartwheeled through the park.

*sigh* there it is…and then this two paragraphs down:

Later, on one would give much though to the path the news had traveled, but more than a few would be amazed at the speed with which the story sprinted past the city limits, jumped the river, galloped over eigh counties and dashed across the state line. (Shoot the Moon by Billie Letts Pg 101)

***

Otherwise, all is quiet in the Bitch-Cave.  I’m off to send Dee some pics for my video for Ann Aguirre’s contest. The end of the month is upon us and I can unequivocally state that I failed to meet my writing goal. Lucky for me, I don’t care.

***

Taken from a recent conversation with a friend and posted w/their consent…

DEAR AUTHOR…PLEASE DON’T:

…EVER write an entire romance novel in present tense.

…speak directly to your audience. NO 2ND PERSON unless you’re a damn good writer and know without a doubt that you’ll be able to instantly earn the right to address your readers directly. Otherwise, cut it out. Don’t pretend you know me well enough to talk to me like we’re friends.

…develop stylistic crutches. -ing words and participal phrases are at the top of this week’s bitch list.

…use commas like a stripper uses glitter. They have a very real function. LEARN IT.

Hahaha….commas….stripper…glittah!  Here’s a few of my own:

…Info-dump. I WILL mock you.  And then I will toss your book across the room.

…Stop in the middle of a fight scene to tell me stupid shit that has absolutely NO relevance to fight.  It’s worse than info-dump. It’s info-dump on crahk.

…Stick an “H” in your characters name.  I think JR Ward trademarked that and even if she didn’t, we all know from whench it cahme.  Stohp Ith.

So yesterday morning I get up and I’m schlubbing around the house, dragging tail because I took a Claritin at 4 AM and went back to sleep. Oops.

I fill my coffee cup and notice all three cats hovering on the table. This is where their food bowl is. We don’t use the table; it’s acts as a “stuff” magnet…you know, where everyone throws their stuff?? And if the food is on the floor, the dogs will eat it–I check, “Yup,” it’s got food so why the hell are they hovering like a pack of hyenas?

Who knows. Who cares. My head hurts and I have a KILLER day ahead of me.

Off to work I go and, yup, it’s a killer day! I come home and son #1 is hovering in the kitchen. We chat and sure enough one of the cats is sitting on the table making all kinds of noise. WTF?!?! There is FOOD in the BOWL (and apparently not only did Ham get into it with Nat but he also got into it with the chihuahua! Keeping mind Ham is 18 pounds, Nat is 7 pounds and Lola comes in at a measly 5).

#1 walks over to the bowl and says, “You have food– der, hey mom, look!”

And he holds up a bowl full of DOG FOOD!

I’m over at NAS today asking what you’d do for d*ck and giving away books! So stop by!

So…….Dennie, Jackie, Melissa, Raine (I know you got waylaid by edits)…how’s it going with the writing challenge???

I’ll admit these first few weeks of having the kids out of school have really not done me any good.  Yes, I’m making excuses because I’d rather do anything than edit (more).  Shall I talk about my sinuses?? heeh

Anyway I sitll have about 100 pages to write and about 12 days to do it in.  OR I blew my wad on May and there’s nothing left *ggg*  No seriously, I have middle of the book itis and a bad case of I dont want to edit.  Both of those coupled with my patented “It’s Summer and It’s Hot” Whine.

Would you like cheese with that?

Ok so how’s everyone else doing?

First off, Lynn Viehl has a LBLI2009  (Left Behind and Loving It) reminder up. If you’re interested in participating, awesome! (Jen I’m looking at you…Alpha, Beta, Gamma etc…come on. Be a champ.  Pony Up.)

Anyway…about a month ago I was driving back from Home Depot with Kevin (that’s #2 son for those of you who forgot) and there was a squirrel in the road.  Now daddy alwasy said don’t swerve…just brake. So that’s what I did but Mr. Squirrely didn’t swerve fast enough and got himself squished.  *sigh*  I felt bad.  Kevin felt worse. Refused to even look at me but I tried to talk to him (he’s kind of sensetive).

We pull into the garage and I”m still talking but I’m starting to get a little tickled because I”m giving my son grief counseling over a deal squirel.  “Son, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

Son, “Sniff.”

“Dude…it’s okay.”  I’m still getting tickled, then I think up the perfect line.  “The squirrel’s with Jesus now.” And start laughing.  “Sorry…I didn’t mean to laugh.” And I laugh some more.  And Kevin still won’t look at me.

Just then Elvis (#1 or He who is taller than me), comes out and asks what’s wrong, and I get the giggles and say, “Your brother’s upset because I killed a squirrel and I tried to tell him– ” *snort* *face twitch* “–the squirrel’s with Jesus now.” *howling*

#1 is laughing too and Kevin says, “That’s not funny!”

#1 says, “It’s just a squirrel,” then goes around the other side of the car to talk to his brother.

I pat Kevin on the back and say, “Honey it’s all right.  Mr. Squirrely is with Jesus now.”  *more laughter* but now Kevin is out of the car and shoving his way past his brother to stand in the driveway with shaking shoulders because…he’s laughing.

Soooooo yesterday Kevin and I are on our way to Game Stop to exchange a game and I’m turning the corner and there’s a dead squirrel.  I swerved, not wanting to run it over–because it’s okay to swerve if they’re already dead, see?!

And Kevin goes, “Thanks for respecting the squirrel.”

“Your welcome son.” *snort*

So, what’s new in your world?

Zoe gyrated in her whore heels while she scanned the bar, looking for her next meal.  Anyone looking at her would think she was an irresponsible, drunk college girl out for a good time in a bar filled with the hip, the cool, the high…“adults” who worked hard and blew off steam by snorting (cheap) coke and drinking premium booze.  Truth be told, the so-called edgy people around her were dismayingly similar to the edgy people in Atlanta, and New York, and L. A. …that was to say, not edgy at all.  But very stupid and definitely careless.  It made finding a meal that much easier if you weren’t picky, and your feet didn’t hurt.

Truly, she missed the good old days when healthy humans hadn’t been so hard to find and they’d had communion at home as a family; they said their prayers and drank to the goddess and her consort.

Zoe waved at Peter, glad he’d joined her on the evening’s hunt.  Maybe he’d have better luck than her.  She really hated feeding from someone who was high, so much so, she’d almost rather feed from a homeless person.  Coke made the blood bitter and left her with the shakes and a terrible headache; whiskey just made the blood a little sweet and gave her a buzz, which wasn’t so bad, but so many were crazy or drug addicts.  And there were worse things than coke to ingest — blood-born diseases like Hepatitis and AIDS.  Both incurable in humans and vampires alike.  They’d lost almost a dozen children just two years back thanks to tainted blood.

If it wasn’t for Peter, she’d head back to Europe in a heartbeat.   Forty years they’d been bound together as husband and wife and hunting for younglings for Lucien.  The Cabal hadn’t seen fit to bless them with children, which was fine considering the current difficulties involved in finding good, clean blood to drink.