But yesterday, in the library, the geek in me was offered a tantalizing prize of proportions that went way beyond temptation, and I couldn’t keep in the squee–

I was introduced to NC LIVE.

Do you know what a treasure this is?  With the wave of my library bar code, I can watch all the PBS documentaries I want.  Right now, that’s American history brought to life, broken out by decade or major event and free at my fingertips!  Can you blame me for throwing coolness to the wind?  For babbling my gratitude to the dear reference librarian who brought me enlightenment?  I know that it will take a great deal of effort to regain my lost ground on that slippery slope of all things cool, but I really don’t see how it could be helped.  Besides, maybe the librarian won’t tell–in fact, I’m pretty sure she understands.  How do I know this?  Well…

She’s a librarian, but for just a minute there–she forgot to be quiet.

Sorry.  I’ll give you a minute.

But I’m actually discovering a few morning joys…and it’s nice!  First, there’s the sunrise thing–did you guys know the sun comes up all big and pretty in the morning?  That it does the whole pink and gold gig TWICE a day?  I mean, look at that–it’s gorgeous!

Who knew?

But in addition to the sunrise, there’s also quiet times in the morning.  For example, there are long walks around the pond with Zeke, our dog.  Best of all, when I get home and collapse from the dog-induced speed walk, I’ve already done my exercise for the day.  And it’s not even 8:30am!

I have to tell you, this morning thing is really wooing me.  Life has a nice sense of rhythm to it when the day begins while it’s still clearly morning and there’s no brunch in sight.  It sets me up for a day of productivity, peace–and that great joy in life called an afternoon nap.

You should give it a try!

Or, some variation thereof.  After all, Thanksgiving is next week and there are menus to write, food to cook, and guests/travel to plan for.

I, on the other hand, have been doing this,

and this,

which is me setting up my winter village and making winter/Christmas crafts.  As I mentioned on FB, we celebrated Thanksgiving early his year and have moved on to Christmas.  And you know what?  It feels way too liberating!  I must have a rebel streak a mile wide.  Except, you know, inverted into a tightly wound helix that’s NOT a mile wide, cause I haven’t even had any holiday treats yet and can still fit into my skinny jeans!

So, here’s me gloating over all of you while I listen to my Christmas music, but there’s a chance for you to get me back.  The Cabinet (which just posted a hilarious note from Becca Fitzpatrick which will make your travel packing seem a dream) is taking me hostage on Tuesday and hooking me up to a lie detector test for their interview.  Leave your questions here, or stop by Tuesday, and maybe you’ll get the skinny on my deepest darkest secrets.  Then you can gloat.

It was distasteful to brush elbows with the muggles, but I had a bit of fun.  A cauldron full of spiders brought to life, here, a  child’s sword sharpened, there.  One lady thought she had a clever snack of little mummies and their mum–

I whispered a spell as I passed by, and the lady’s screams echoed through the mall.

My crowning mischief of the night I worked while riding my broomstick home.  Someone had left their carved pumpkin to watch over the fluffy little chicks.

Their mistake.

Really, these muggles don’t know the first thing about Halloween.  But I and my wand will teach them!

Happy Halloween, Muggles!

In the mean time, stop by Jen Wylie’s blog for my guest post, Keep Your Demons Close.  But be ready for a kinda creepy piece of flash fiction I wrote while having an arachnophobic moment, courtesy of October’s spooks.  Help yourself to a few candy corns while you’re at it–I’ve got a ‘handful’ to spare!

Mmm, yum!  Hehehe.

No treats come without tricks, though, so watch out for these little demon guardians.

They like their candy, and they’re not about to share!

Plus, I’ll always have proof that no matter how bad the kitchen looks, it could always be worse.  Because, you know, I like to keep it positive!

I thought about sharing the pic, but decided to shield your tender eyes–and my dignity.  Besides, the dishes are looking up.  After another round tonight, they’ll look even better.  By the time we leave tomorrow, the kitchen will probably have reached the transcendent state of semi-presentable.  Which is, you should know, my highest aspiration.  I learned a long time ago, back in the way beyond days when my house used to enjoy a state of spotlessness, that I could keep a clean house and be a Super Housekeeper complete with the Super Housekeeper badge and trophy…or I could be a great mom, a busy writer, and happy lady.  And when I really, really just gotta have a badge or spiffy-sized trophy?  I can make one for myself, out of cardboard and crayons, and stack them all in a row.

So, what will I be doing this weekend?  Straightening up, vacuuming, washing dishes, catching up laundry?  Ha!  I’ll be at SCBWI Carolinas writing conference, along with my hubby and kids, and loving every minute of it.  Let those dishes leer–they don’t scare me!

Me, I think I’d write a blog.  Why?  Because obviously anything that was meant to be ‘current’ or newsworthy wouldn’t be by the time it was received.  What’s that, you say?  You’re stuck on an island and feel certain the turtles are in cahoots with the sharks and negotiating your demise?  Well, the message in the bottle isn’t going to help you–you’ll have moved on from that crisis, led a revolution in Atlantis and settled down to raise mer children by the time help shows up.  But a blog, now, that’s intended to be a timeless shout out from one human being to the rest the two-legged population, and it’s okay if the message gets picked up by a beachcomber in Texas instead of your Aunt Lucy in Maine.

So, here’s my message in a bottle:

The beach is great, the water’s even warm!  And we’re making friends.  Meet Alexias, an Entwife.  She’s enjoying the sun and sand, but would like to send word to Treebeard that she’s here.  Maybe he’d like to visit sometime.

We’ve also made friends with birds, crabs, and even dolphins, but we’ve spent the most time with the sun.  We’re actually becoming quite chummy.  We have a deal.  I wear my sunblock (even on my feet) and the sun promises to make an appearance every day so we can play.  He even posed for his picture the other morning, which I found very considerate.

Of course, he made me get up at the uncivilized hour of 6:00am for this shot, but I love the pic so much I’m not holding a grudge.

Lastly, a few words of advice from one islander to another.  Don’t let anyone pee on your jellyfish sting–even if they line up to help.  Never believe your children when they tell you they’re heading to the beach in their street clothes but ‘won’t get in the waves.’  And if you see an alligator, climb a tree.  Preferably higher and faster than the guy behind you.

Have a great week, and send me a reply by bottle when you finish off your coke!

I’ve heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, with the expectation of getting different results.  I’d say that’s the definition of of querying, too.  Can the fact that the two share an identical definition be coincidence?  Nope!  So, what is one to do when bit by the querying bug?  There are several options.  The first, as we’ve just established, is to go crazy.  Let me provide a few tips on that:

• Use a magnifying glass if you’re trying to tell if that paper rejection letter has been hand signed.  The ink will blur and bleed into the paper and appear uneven when compared to printed letters.
• If the letter seems so courteous as to be almost encouraging and you’re sure it’s personalized, check query tracker.  You’ll probably find someone else who’s posted the letter–hoping it’s a personal rejection!
• If you’re still not sure and can’t rest ’til you know, simply make up a fake novel (preferably with a really bad premise) and a pseudonym, and query the agent again.  If you get the same encouraging letter, you know it’s a form.  If you get a request to see pages, start writing.  Fast.
• A rejection letter with the title of your book mentioned has been slightly personalized, but doesn’t have the same rejection clout as a letter which mentions your characters by name.  The first can be pulled off with a merging program (or so I understand) while the second requires an overworked assistant or exhausted intern to actually glance at your pages.  This is real rejection currency, my friends.  Use it wisely.
• The highest form of rejection letter is of course a letter which suggests editorial changes in case you’re inclined to do a rewrite.  However, this most worthy of all rejection letters is closely followed by a one-line note from the actual (real live!) agent that’s been added underneath the standard form rejection.  Rejection letters like this are good for a batch of home-baked brownies, or maybe even a carefully casual brag at your next writing group meet up.

Another course of action when out on submission (or, if you’re like me, an option to pursue in and around the crazies) is to try your hand at actual writing.  You know, the thing we do when we’re not critiquing, blogging, networking, guest posting, mentoring, organizing writing get togethers, editing, reading books on writing, researching, reading fiction (to keep up with the genre!), perusing publisher’s marketplace, researching agents, writing query letters, obsessing over rejection letters and fantasizing over bestsellerdom.  Here’s a handy scale to put this writing project in perspective:

1. The worst writing project is something like a short story.  You finish it too fast, and will have to come up with a new project.  What’s more, if you send it out on submission you’ll just add to your rejection woes.
2. The second worst project is the sequel to the book out on submission.  You will either discover that you don’t really have anything more to say and catch a deathly fear of series, or you will find yourself even more invested in the sequel than the first book, and each rejection letter will sound a double death knoll to your beloved books.
3. A medium level project is a companion novel set in the same universe/place as your submitted novel, but not dependent on it.  This will allow you to pretend you’re not obsessing, while enjoying the writerly euphoria of developing back story and creating a world building encyclopedia.
4. One of the best projects you could work on is a new, standalone novel that is independent of your submitted book but still works well with the ‘brand’ you’ll establish when (note my optimism!) you get the first book published.
5. An almost ideal best project is one you can kid yourself into believing needs to be completed before agents get back to you on the submitted book.  For example, that lovely (but impractical) story you promised your nieces you’d write.  Once you’re ‘real’ book is under contract/agented, you won’t have time for fun projects, so you’d better get it done now while you have the time.  If you can make yourself really believe this logic, you can make the time waiting to hear back on those Fulls really fly.
6. The ideal project is one which combines  4 and 5, so you’re not only working productively, but believe you have a compelling need to finish this project before the agents get back to you.  And this must be done without falling into the sequel trap of project 3.  Good luck with that!

The third way of dealing with the submission willies is to cultivate optimism.  You are going to get an agent, it’s only a matter of time.  Since the deal is as good as inked, there’s no reason to feel anxiety or lose any sleep.  You can spend your time doing sensible things and enjoy the contented feeling of knowing that your agent is out there–they just haven’t found you yet.

Of course, if you master that last, uber-optimistic method, odds are good you fit nicely into the definition we started with–crazy!

I ‘inherited’ it at a Christmas party in December.  It was a white elephant gift, one that no one else wanted.  I brought it home and read up on it.  Great for beginners, hard to kill, very tolerant of neglect–perfect!

Not.  The one thing it wants is light, and that’s the one thing we haven’t got in this house.  Not a single window that can truly claim the title of sunny.  So I pampered the Cycad (translate–tried to drown it) and moved it from window to window, but it still dropped leaf after dead brown leaf on the floor.  When the weather warmed up, I gave up and stuck it outside where the cat curled up around it.  Before long, the poor Cycad was thoroughly dead and I had to remind myself every time I walked by its carcass that the thing needed throwing out.

But what it really needed was a sauna–and that’s what we’ve had for the last few weeks.  Behold, the newly rejuvenated Cycad!

I’m thinking of naming it Lazarus.

The next morning I wanted eggs, but was feeling hungry for veggies, too.  Well, we eat spinach greens in omelettes, so why not wrap my scrambled eggs up, I ask you?  A few snips of the scissors and our garden was minus one head of leafy lettuce, while I was one breakfast wrap richer.

And so it went.  I’m sure by now you’ve figured out where this is going…

Pizza-lettuce wraps!  I just slice the pizza into strips, and lay it in the lettuce.  Yum!  I’ve also tried spaghetti-lettuce wraps, which were quite good.  I plan to branch into desserts this weekend, as a fitting way to celebrate the happy things happening with my 13 Demon Days queries.  The world is my lettuce wrap, and I am its connoisseur.  What would you be willing to try wrapped up in a piece of lettuce?

P.S. I’ve also posted over in the Cabinet this week!