She wanted a ukulele for Christmas?

My dd wanted a Ukulele for Christmas. And not just any ukulele, a professional one. My reply? "They have professional ukuleles???" I thought they were more or less a joke. A plastic thing you bought at the gift shop in Hawaii, but evidently there's more to the Uku than meets the eye. Check out this guy:

The talent out there in the world amazes me.
I'm not a city person but the one thing I do love in NYC are the street musicians. (Okay, the pocketbook guys are a real close second-you can never have too many purses!) Musicians give the day a flavor unlike any other. I always dig in my pocket to tip these guys because I want them to keep coming back.
Do you think we writers could get anything for standing on street corners reading our stories? I mean, how about if we put a typewriter case on the ground, drop a few coins in it and just start reading, would they tip us too? What if we did it outside of an agent's office? Or publisher?
Okay, okay, it was just a thought...
So I bought her a Uku, now I'm waiting for my concert.

Got Crayons?

Does the medium control the artist or does the artist control the medium? Whether painting, writing, or preforming (singing, insturmental, acting), would your talent extend to other venues? Could the concert violynist master the piano at will?
Or if you're an excellent artist with pencil is it that much of a leap to move to paint?
To relate this to writing how many writers switch genres at will? Is it really such a stretch to believe a romance writer can write a thriller? One of my stories is a thriller but with romantic elements. I didn't do this on purpose it just came out that way. I think in real life those "romantic elements" can come at us at any time, no matter what we're going through. So doesn't that stand to realize the same would be true in any kind of fiction? I think the degree that we inject it into our story is in our control. A thriller still needs the main focus to be whatever is pushing your plot but a bit of romance or an other element that would normally happen in real life could give your story more life.
Just a thought. Am I making any sense here?
The above picture makes me wonder about these things. This picture was done in a medium I never would have attempted. If you go to his website you can see more of these amazing pictures done entirely with Crayola Crayons.
And you thought they were just for kids...
:)

Where do you go when you're not here?

Anywhere this guy's not...

Next time you need to win something, try this:

If only the great leaders of the world could settle things this easily.

Does your WIP fit the Hero's Journey?

Does it have to?

There's a pretty good site (okay, their selling something but I still like their outlines) that talkes about the Hero's Journey. They list a bunch of movies on the site and outline them into the Hero's Journey. And they do it more indepth than I've ever seen it before. 188 stages!

Now I want to go back and watch the movies so I can match them up visually to the Hero's outline, because I just want this to sink into my brain better.

Now I'm looking at my own WIP and trying to see how it fits. Did I cover all my bases? Forget a major part that will leave my work looking weak? And if I have a hero and heroine who are both major players....do I have to "journey" them both? I mean, sometimes I'm in the heroine's head so does she need a journey here too? And did that guy who wrote Star Wars have the hero's journey in his head when he was writing it?

Here's the basic journey I'm working off of:

The Call

Threshold

Challenges

Abyss

Revelation

Transformation

Atonement

The Return

Not 188 but its a start.

Does anyone think of this while their working their WIP?

Opinons?

We Can't Let This Bank Fail...Blogging out Hunger

The economy is in a slump, people are cutting back on all but essentials, everyone is saving, not spending.
And this bank is almost empty.

Last night I saw my friend Middletown Mike and he told me about this great Blogger movement to help our food banks.

Today, Monday December 15th, Bloggers are uniting to get the word out and help Stamp Out Hunger. This action was started by www.jerseybites.com and they are trying to get 100 bloggers to put out the word. Won't you join us?

Ways to help:
1. Run a food drive. Set up a box at work, school, or in your local church or library and ask for (non-perishable) donations.
2. Volunteer at your local food bank.
3. Make a monetary donation. (Every little bit helps!)
4. Be an advocate! Get the word out about how desperately donations are needed.

We Can't Let this BANK fail!

Who are the Characters in your life?

Ever meet people- you know,those exuberant, enjoy life (or hate life) , type of folks who you'll always remember-and then find them in your book?
Sometimes when I look back over my work I recognise people, or at least, pieces of people who I know in real life. Their personalities have worked their way into my writing and turned into characters. Maybe they're not exactly like the real life person but their spirit is there, dancing on my pages. And I never saw it happen.
I didn't sit down at my keyboard and say I'm going to put Kevin in here, or I'll make Scott into this tall, suave executive or hey, Sean would make a great artist type...
No, I didn't see them hop between the pages and come to life. But I guess the essence of their life has so impacted me that a part of my subconscious built entire characters around them.
My latest WIP (or at least one of them) started with a car accident. My car got hit from behind. I drive a bright yellow car and never thought anyone would hit me....how do they not see me? The car practically glows in the dark! But they did, slammed me good. So this made me think...what if someone hit someone from behind on purpose? Motivation? Other motivation? Ultimate outcome? Who's the winner here? What if the tables turned suddenly and the hittee becomes the winner? Or the hittee planned all this from the start?
So guess who's in my WIP now? Or at least a piece of him.
Do you see real peeps in your characters? Or at least a little bit of them?

Don't you hate breaking in those new shoes???

Getting the groove back...

After getting the wind knocked out of your sails, when nothing seems quite so important as it did before, how do you get your groove back?
I've been taking my WIP to work with me and editing on my lunch our and any down time I may have. I work in a cubical now (love it!) and I'm pretty much out of sight from the powers that be so when I have nothing to do I pull out the old WIP and go at it. (or sometimes I go blogging)
But it's been a bad week and now when I look at my WIP -- I don't like any of it. I fight not to throw the whole thing in the trash because I'm guessing this might be a carry over of feelings from the bad week.
I think I need a good romance novel. Something with nice thoughts and happy endings. Something to lift my overall mood.
I had it.
But I lost it.
Take a break?
Or keep plugging along feeling like someone stuck pins under your finger nails?
What do you do when life throws you down?

Lokie

Lokie has renal failure. I brought her home so my daughter can come home from college tonight and say goodbye. Tomorrow we go back to the vet so she can be put to sleep.
:(
Very sad day in the Aimless house.

This is Lokie...

Lokie is 13 years old. She's a Shetland Sheepdog. When we take her to the dog park Lokie herds the rest of the dogs, running in circles and yapping.
When she was younger she did tricks like Hi Five, Bang(we point our gun finger at her and she keels over dead), Speak, and the normal sit, stay, lay down, and roll over. She's the easiest dog I've ever trained.
Now Lokie is 13 and for a while now she's been having trouble with her back legs. She struggles to stand and it takes her a while to get anywhere. In the past week she hasn't been able get up the two steps on the deck so I carry her up. In the rain on Sunday dh went out and built her a ramp to get up on the deck. Which she was afraid to use. So dd went out and got a rubber mat and I nailed it on the ramp. This morning she still wouldn't use it so I went out and carried her in the house.
She's eaten very little in the past few days and this morning she turned her nose up at breakfast. When I got home from work tonight and went to find her, she couldn't stand at all.
I carried her out to the living room and offered her food and water. She took a little water.
:(
I sat on the floor and brushed her, cuddled her for a bit and tomorrow we have to take her to vet.
It doesn't look good....
Please pray for Lokie. She's the best dog in the world.

Those Christmas book people...

I'm always amazed and uplifted by the Christmas novels that are out this time of year. I spotted this one in the store today by the wonderful Debbie Macomber. I go to her books when Stephen King scared the bejesus out of me.

I generally see Christmas as an extremely stressful time of year where there is never enough time or money. The spirit of Christmas has turned into a can-you-top this game. One that tires and stresses us.

The Christmas after 9-11 was different. Both my children were on top of those towers 11 days before. Living across the bay from NYC with a good view of the Trade Centers (a place where half our relatives, friends and neighbors worked) we were struck very hard. We waited days to find out who survived, the stench in the air lasted for weeks and now we constantly run into people who worked the clean up. They all have breathing disorders. If you ventured back into the city you were met with National Guardsmen with guns checking out your cars. They were at the entrances to the bridges and tunnels, the police were out in force all around you. The walls of Port Authority was lined with pictures of the missing. We went to a play and after the final curtain Valerie Bertinelli came out and thanked us all for coming back to Broadway and encouraging us to take back our city.

That Christmas was different. We walked the stores searching for those perfect gifts and just felt grateful. We had our family. We came so close to losing everything that really mattered that gifts were just stuff, useless stuff. None of it mattered.

Debbie Macomber's books tell us this too. Most of her stories are about what's really important and how its the people around us who make the difference in every way that counts.

So, what's your take on the Christmas season? Love it or hate it? Or something else?

Discipline...

Discipline; that scary place between want and acquire. If you want to reach the stars you have to cut through the crap and find your way. It should be a four letter word this Discipline. If you are in front of the Discipline process you look forward with hope and inspiration. When you reach the other side you look back with pride and accomplishment. But that scary place inbetween can be a real problem. Especially when hope has such a tendency to fluxuate. It rises and falls with the tide. When up, discipline steps forward and pushes you along. When it wanes, hope falters, that star you're reaching for seems to move further our of reach.
Which is the challenge. How do you keep the hope alive so dicsipline can guide you?

When life reinvents.

When we hit high school we reinvent ourselves (sort of). It's a new enviornment, we meet new friends, and find different interests. When we choose how we react to these things --> Poof! We've become someone new. Left behind are the ideals and wants of childhood and we find different ideas and goals. After high school it happens again. College (or a job) brings new things into our lives and we change, finding our new selves. Then comes marriage and OMG! was that a change. I still miss having my own closet.

Babies? More change. Only now you're putting everyone but yourself first. Years later the kids grow up and there's no more chasing after little ones, going from play groups to music lessons to bball games and dance classes. It was all about them and suddenly they're on their own. It's called empty nest syndrome. I'm almost there...in that gray area between their college and when they're looking for the right job and place to live..either way they're very independent at this point.

My older and wiser brother says that: Empty nest is like being 20 again, only this time you have money. I think that's a good analogy. And I'm there.

Poof! I'm about to become another person. Only this time I have to think on it awhile. So many choices-I don't know what to do first.

Being a Virgo---I have a list:

Learn piano (I've always wanted to do this!)

Get my WIP finished and find a good agent.

Go back to school.

hmmmm, I'd like to jump out of an airplane but ....maybe I don't have enough courage to do that.

Buy a Mustang.

Get a tattoo.

Maybe sell some art.

So, if you were to reinvent yourself...what do you want to see in your new life?

When Dogs Become Cats

I'm working a job where we have to dress professionally. Gone are the jeans, hoodies and football jerseys. (sniff) But its not that bad, I'm actually beginning to enjoy it. Now my biggest problem is getting out of the house. It's not getting out the door by (gulp!) 7:30, or going out into the freezing cold to scrape frost off the car...no, it's the fact that the dogs have suddenly turned into cats! They've started to rub against my legs like hungry felines.

Three dogs generate a lot of hair. The shedding gets so bad that at times there are tumble weeds of hair blowing across the floor. When I sweep (hardwood floors) I think I collect about two or three puppies each time. It's that bad.

So now every morning I get dressed for work these three pups decide to become cats and rub against me. They can't walk past me without touching---AND I'M WEARING BLACK! Especially the youngest, Okalani (top) who likes to wind through a person's legs like an agility dog weaving through the rubber spike jaunt. The Lokie ( Center) likes to rub her face against you. I think I heard her purring this morning. And then there's Halston, (bottom) who just has to stand within inches of you as she commands her hair to jump off and cling to your DARK BROWN PANTS!

So being a virgo I've developed the following coping skills.

Coping mechanism #1 I bought those "repels pet hair" dryer sheets and ...eh. Not much of a difference. The dog hair still rules.

Coping mechanism #2 I decorate my house with lint brushes. One in every room especially by the front door. Its the last thing I do before going out the door.

Coping mechanism #3 Bought the Bissell Pet Hair Vacuum. So far so good. The only drawback is I actually have to use it. (Eeeeek!)

My advice to you is to buy stock in Lint Brushes....I think they'll be going up substantially.

Getting back into it.

I've taken a bit of a break from writing, painting and most everything I love to get into a new job.
I was sitting in a campaign meeting (a friend running for mayor) and someone came in with a job offer. The few who knew I was unemployed started pointing at me and saying "She wants it!" Well, going back to work before my unemployment ran out was a bit of a shock. Although I was putting the word out that I was looking, I never really gave it my all. I gave it to Karma instead. Whatever was meant to be, shall be.
And I guess Karma decided it was time.
Well the new job is in the county election division. I started two weeks before the election and haven't slept since. The amount of work that came through the office was unbelievable. We worked late every night & weekends. By election night (in at 5 a.m. not home till after 11 p.m.) I was exhausted! I think I'm still recovering. Like jet lag, election lag had me down for the count.
And now I feel like I'm back! Its time to take back control of the things I want to do as opposed to those I have to do. And I have a plan. Write at night, print and edit on my lunch hour. (I actually get a whole hour for lunch and finding myself not knowing what to do-at my last job I ate at my desk and did email during lunch.)
So my question is how do you slice up your time to write and get all the everyday demands done too? Do you have a schedule? Or just go with the flow?

Why oh why are they so rough on McCain?

There's a lot of complaining from the RNC that the press is being unfair to McCain and his running mate, Sarah Palin. Yet, Obama isn't getting laughed at, I mean treated so unfair, by every news channel (except Fox) out there. So, here's a few of my own ideas why it seems that way;

1. McCain picks an unqualified, unknown for his running mate. What's the Bush doctrine?
2. Sarah Palin can see Russia from her house. Forgive Tina Fey; Sarah can't actually see Russia from her house. To see Russia from Alaska you would have to go to some obscure island-an island that Sarah has never been to. So, why does this count on Foreign policy experience?
3. Sarah can't name a single newspaper she reads. Doesn't Alaska have any newspapers??? Maybe even a little Pennysaver maybe?
4. Sarah's speech at the Republican Convention contained lies. Sorry, she did support the bridge to nowhere, then changed her mind after being elected (sorry voters!), then took the money (holy earmarks, Batman!) and spent it on other things. She sold that jet on ebay? But it didn't sell there, she sold it later at a loss. (Then spent how much in tax dollars on her kids travel expenses?) Did she really think the press wouldn't check?
5. Spouting off stuff about Obama palling around with terrorists---um, Sarah? Your husband belonged to a group (Alaskan Independence Party) that tried to secede Alaska from the USA. And you spoke at their conventions. I think secession falls under the heading of treason. Following the same thought process as palling around with terrorists- Are you sleeping with a traitor?
6. Clothing? $150,000 in clothing? Where's Paris Hilton when you need her? If this is how Palin and McCain budget their campaign there is no way I want them to budget my tax dollars.
7. $22,000 on make up and hair? Makes me wonder...what would she look like without the $22,000 make over? Is she a martian in real life?
8. With all this the campaign puts out nasty attack ads without telling us what they bring to the table. (How long did it take us to find out anything about their ideas?)

Now campaign aides are speaking out against Palin. Unheard of! Usually insiders wait until the election is over to pitch their fits.

With all this ammo how can the media not jump on it? They say one thing, do the other and expect no one to notice? Really now, the media would not be doing their job if they ignored it. They report the news. Good or bad. Can they help it that there is so much bad news coming from the McCain camp?

One thing that really bothers me is how she drags her newborn out at all hours to parade him up and down in front of millions of people. Yeah, that bothers me.

One picture-Says it all....

Sarah Palin vs. A house

On the left Sarah Palin in one outfit from her $150,000. shopping spree. On the right is a four bedroom, two bath house in Ohio. This house cost less then Sarah's shopping spree. Under $150,000. (You can find this on Realtor.com. I love that site!) But John McCain says its okay because he plans to donate her clothes to charity.....
Can anyone tell me how this woman or her running mate could possibly understand how the average person in the USA has to struggle to pay a mortgage? And why does it make a difference that she's going to donate it after the campaign?
Sarah? You need to check out Walmart if you want to meet Joe Six Pack. He's not hiding in Nieman Marcus. (We call it Needless Mark-ups around here and I know Joe Six Pack personally!)
Come 'on Sarah! You can't even budget your campaign money (I'm assuming this expense was paid for by the people who donated to McCain's campaign?) how do you expect us to trust you with our tax dollars?
Maybe Sarah should get some advice from Michelle Obama? I hear she shops at Sears.

From Skinny Bitch to What to Eat

Moving on in the food category books we have my favorite: What To Eat by Marion Nestle. This book was recommended by my personal nutritionist. (Okay, its my daughter the nutrition student-but hey, works for me)
The way this book differs from Skinny Bitch is its more of a "just the facts" kinda book. I didn't feel preached at and there was no shocking language. This book lays it all out for a good diet. Sensible food choices, differences between organic and natural and it was written by a real nutritionist and not just a couple of models on a PETA rant. (Is lightening going to strike me for that last comment???)
Marion's website is here.
Check it out! I liked this book a lot.

The debate & Tina Fey

Hockey mom's speak out on Palin

Skinny Bitch ~almost....

My dd is a nutrition student and told me to get this book. It was a quick and easy read and I finished in in one day. Some of the language was a bit snarky. Almost preachy. "You cannot keep eating the same shit and expect to get skinny. Alcohol- fat, bloated pig syndrome. Coffee is for pussies." In the beginning this kind of language was kind of funny but by the end of the book (don't be a cheap asshole) it was tiring. Believe me I'm no prude. I'm from NJ- we put the FU in Fun! But after awhile it was like they were trying to shock or be funny with the language and it just went overboard.
This book provided a lot of great information on healthy vegetarian eating. It explained what the chemicals in our food do to our bodies. What good food does for us. Which things we should avoid and which things we should eat were explained in detail. I really liked this information. It was well written and easy to understand.
Then we got to the part about meat and there was a whole horror chapter on the meat industry. In depth, gross details on what happens to an animal before it becomes food. Totally a PETA rant. It tells you to go to www.goveg.com. I was happy about this and went right to the site for more healthy eating information. I was disappointed because it looks like a PETA site.
I've been thinking about going vegetarian for awhile so the vegan concept isn't lost on me, but this kind of thing wasn't about the health of the vegan...it was about bashing the meat eaters.
I think I'd feel better as a vegetarian because I just can't stand looking at meat. Having to cook raw meat makes me gag and I refuse to touch it. Ever try to cook a turkey or make a meatloaf without actually touching the meat? My family laughs at my efforts.
Skinny Bitch also says that humans shouldn't naturally eat meat. Predatory animals have big teeth and claws to hunt their prey, humans don't so biologically shouldn't be predisposed to eat meat. However if that theory were true then we shouldn't eat wheat or any other grain. Because it can't be eaten without much processing with "tools" so going on the same train of thought we probably weren't predestined to eat it right? If we can't hunt (with tools) meat, then we can't process wheat? Right?
I don't think so.
Anyway it seemed this book started out as a great book about health and nutrition and then turned into a PETA flyer. It would have been a better and more inspirational for weight loss and diet if they left out the politics.

Tales in the schoolyard

Think back...for some of you...way back. We're young, carefree and playing in the school yard with the neighborhood kids.
There's you-just out to have some good clean fun.
There's Joe-the kid you can count on, kind of quiet, brave and smart. He's the kid who will climb down the sewer after your ball just because he's a can-do kind of guy.
See Nancy over there? A bit outspoken but nice and really smart.
Barack-more mature but still seems to have all the right answers.
And then there's Johnny-the whiner who is always blaming everyone else in the yard and is the first to tattletale when something doesn't go his way.
We see Sarah standing off to the side, a sweet kid, kinda dumb but the one who is always trying to play with the big kids even though she's not old enough.

Return to 2008.
Johnny is blaming Nancy because his party voted the bailout down. Whining again that Barack must be at fault somehow. Out of what? 500 senators? It must come down to this one vote because it couldn't possibly be that maybe Johnny's joyride of political grandstanding to bring us the bailout failed, could it?
What does the wiser Barack do? He simply moves forward looking for solutions and doesn't waste his time whining like little Johnny.
Story over.

Debates over and...

Some call it a draw, some say Obama faired slightly better and, of course, Republican channel Fox news think McCain was sparkling. But lets go to the facts! Stretching of the truth sprinkled with a few white lies....Check out the facts here. Personally, I thought John was a bit long winded and it seemed strange that he never looked Obama in the eye. He kept staring straight ahead even after the moderator wanted them the talk to each other.
Now I can't wait for Saturday Night Live and the Daily Show's uptake on this one.
:)

Sad note; Paul Newman passed away this morning. One love of my life...gone. :(

McCain scared of a debate???

Why else would he back out? With all the congress peoples and senators we have in America why does he (someone who admitted to having very little experience with economic issues) have to rush back to Washington?
Buc, buc, buc, bugaawkk!
9 Houses, 13 Cars---Why would he worry about the economy?

What would you do for your art?

Everyone knows that writers and artists are flaky. What they don't know is that its a skill just like anything else. When they think we're not paying attention we're actually creating things in our mind. Whole worlds can begin and end as I day dream at work. When they see that small smile on my face they think I'm encouraging them to keep talking but really I just had a break through on my WIP and as soon as they go away I'm breaking out the note pad to get it down. Hell, half the time I don't wait for them to leave.

Emperor Sutoku (Japan-12th Century) was exiled for three years. He spent this time copying the Lankauarn Sutra (Buddist religious work) in red ink. This was a special red ink. He made it himself---his own blood! He wrote the 135 pages, 10,500 words in hopes that he would be rewarded by Buddha. (I wonder if he was a little dizzy when it was finished.)
It may have worked. Sutoku was returned to power and ruled for two decades!

So? What would you do? How far would you go for your work?
Thoughts?

Mr. Flip Flop

My Theory on World Peace

My theory:
I believe world peace will come to the earth when all races of the world are blended. When all the children can grow up and say they are part of every race then I believe all the fear and anger will subside and everyone will live in peace (at last).
Its like our little world has some growing to do. And with age comes knowledge and acceptance. When we are all truly blended- what's to fight about?
Forty years ago interracial marriage (meaning every race) was nearly unheard of or at least hidden.
Thirty years ago is was shocking.
Twenty years ago it was merely a curiosity.
Ten years ago? Nothing special. (Okay, I'm in the northeast and I know some of the more southern states haven't made it quiet so far yet.)
Today? No one cares as long as they are good neighbors.
So when we are all blended....Acceptance.

Query letter fear!

Query letters strike fear in my heart. So let's rip apart one of my query letters just for fun. My comments are in ( )'s and not part of the real letter. Please no laughing. Just join in and point out any useless crap you see or let us know your own Query mistakes.

Yes, this is a letter that has received a few rejections.

Dear Ms, Mr, or Mrs. (Gotta get this right but how do we find out if a woman agent prefers Miss, Ms. or Mrs.???)

I’m an avid reader of your blog. Thank you for all the great information and insight you post there. (Too much sucking up? Not enough?) I would like to submit my manuscript for your consideration.

Eyes of My Killer:

Thriller-Suspense, approximately 70,000 words.

Misty reads eyes. She needs only to glance deep within your eyes to see your soul, your world, and all your secrets. But her gift has gotten her into trouble before as it doesn’t always give a clear picture. Not everything she “sees” makes sense. Random thoughts, images, and emotions come through haphazardly. When she comes eye to eye with a serial killer Misty goes to the police for help. In shock, she can describe the brutality and horror she saw in his eyes, but not the man himself. She knows the police think she’s a kook, but she has to make them listen.

Max Jennings is a by the book cop and he’s on the trail of the nastiest serial killer in Angel Fall’s history. When Misty McAllister walks into his squad room and declares she knows who the Angel Fall’s Strangler is because she met him at the mall, Max labels her a whacko. When the strangler leaves a message on Misty’s doorstep in the form of a dead body Max labels her a suspect, but Misty insists it’s a warning. Now she’s in a race for her life and only man can help her, the one who doesn’t believe her.

Full manuscript is available upon request. Thank you for your consideration. (I know the bio goes here but I don't have one. Does blogging count?)

Ciao baby,

One Aimlesswriter

Thoughts? Issues? Your query?

I've been SLAUGHTERED!

This book was so good I stayed up nights reading it. First thing in the morning while the dogs whined for their morning walk I'd have to finish just one more chapter.
And then the ending.....OMG! I sprang up out of bed at 2 a.m. shouting "NOOooooOOoooo!"

Have you ever read a book and get to one line that stands out as amazing. Like you have the wow, I wish I wrote that feeling.
There were many great lines in this book but my favorite was:

It had rained all night, a hard, heavy rain that tapped on their window like a witch trying to get in.

Love Karen Slaughter! Find her here.

Eye of the Beholder

This painting won second place at the county fair. (No, I didn't paint it-I wish!) But only won second place? Look carefully as all of God's world is in this painting. Every stroke has a meaning. from the tree branches to the valleys and fields. Look carefully and see the clouds in the eye and within the pupil you see the earth. The more you look the more you see. Amazing. How much thought went into this painting? Why the heck didn't this get first place? I would have definitely given it a first place + plus.

Art; it's all in the eye of the beholder. Perspective is everything.

Isn't this also true about writing? Its why one editor will love you and the other blows you off. I think this perspective is what keeps me writing. Knowing that one rejection (or twenty) does not mean that there isn't someone out there who will love it. Someone who's day will be made that much happier by reading what we wrote.

I wonder where Stephen King would be now if he hadn't found Bill Thompson. Would someone else have seen the potential of Carrie? Made it such a great best seller?

So we write on, curse the dark and hope for the future. Wait for someone with the perspective that will match our story. And hope they out there. Somewhere.

P.S. I didn't get this artist name, but if you're out there let me know and I'd be glad to post your name. You are an amazing artist.

How much you want for this?

Thinking of murder

I have a scene in the beginning of one of my manuscripts where the wife is thinking of murdering her husband. Her husband had been acting crazy for months. Obsessed with building a bomb shelter, pouring all their money into it. It so consumes him the wife is living in fear of his mania. My critique group thought it was a bit extreme to have the wife thinking of murder instead of..say...therapy.
My thoughts are that just sending him to therapy would be a boring book. And she doesn't actually kill him in the book. (that's taken care of by forces beyond her control) But how weird would your significant other have to get before you'd think of divorce? If your "other" started obsessing over something strange, drained your saving account and spent every waking hour on this obsession. Got so bad you could see something in his eyes that scared you.... What would you do? How long would you put up with it?
I'm not saying murder is the answer (we'll save that for the book) but what about divorce? Or just leaving? Kicking him out?
Thoughts?

Critique groups

I found a new critique group and I think its going to be fun. The people there were pretty good writers and had a good attitude about critiques.

I always go into a new critique group with a bit of trepidation. I've seen some pretty bad ones. How about a twenty minute discussion on whether the word fuck should be said by a man who gets lost? (forget about the man, I'd probably let that one slip under a lot less stress :) Or the one who literally tried to rewrite the story, change endings completely and then argue as to why their idea is better. Lots of arguing. These are the kind of groups we should never go back to. At least not if we want to keep our sanity.

But this group had some good people with open minds. A very important thing, those open minds. And they always ended on a positive note.

:)

Happy now!

Proud mama!

My daughter was chosen as one of the core singers for the Perry Awards!!!

:)

(A Perry Award is giving for the best of the best in NJ musical theater. The award ceremony is in September)

Raising Elvis

I try to raise him right. Give him good manners and morals. Good food (he demands to eat whatever we are eating), a nice house-er-cage (Graceland), love and affection and I wake up this morning to hear "YOU'RE A BRAT! BRAT! BRAT BRAT! HEY BRAT! Come 'mere."

Then he clucks like a chicken. . . "Buc, Buc, Buc, BaGawwwk!"

I've been trying to teach him "I love you" for years but he seems to have an aversion to expressing affection. He also refuses to say "thank you."

And he's no snitch either. Although he calls each of the dogs by name, (then laughs when they come running, "heh, heh, heh") he refuses to tell me who tore up the garbage and spread it all over the floor last night. He had to see it, most was right in front of Graceland.

And he calls me a Brat!

And then as I'm sweeping up the mess-he laughs, which is more like the cackle from the wicked witch of the west. Sometimes I feel like he thinks I'm the slave in this relationship and sometimes I'm afraid he may be right.

Second thoughts?

Ever push that piece of work out the door and then get stuck with all the ...maybe I should have's...?
Maybe I should have changed this, added that, was this part too shallow? Too deep? Too wordy?
>Sigh<
Then you worry, fret and stare at the email while trying to push your thoughts into it by osmosis? Which leads me to ask if a piece of art ever finished? Can you write and write and then put it down for a bit and go back and say it is definately complete? Ever?
Or do you start the rewrite process all over again?
Did Van Gogh know when to stop putting the last star in Starry Night? How did Monet know when the the last water lily was complete?
Now the waiting is painful. Excruciating.
So I come here to moan and vacillate over what could have been, what could be-what I could do if I went over it just one more time!

Wandering Massachusetts

I've been traveling. Right now I'm in Massachusetts. Rolling hills, deep green valleys and some really nice people. Old houses and buildings reminding me of a Mayberry. I keep looking for Andy and Opie. (who names a kid Opie, anyway?)

I love the farms here and wish I could live in a place like that. Lots of land to let the dogs run free, neighbors that are not right on top of me and fresh air.

Amazingly, I'm getting a lot of work done here. I've carved out time and hid in my room and pumped out quite a few pages. Its getting easier as I relax and I think that's a problem sometimes. Not the relaxing part but the things that prevent us from relaxing. My brain constantly multi-tasks. Pushing out the day to day stuff is sometimes hard, sometimes impossible. Up here I'm not staring at the house, the critters and the things that need to be done. It's easier to turn outside things off, so I can get the stories out.

So how do you get past the everyday to find your stories?

What could cause the dog with the loudest voice to bark at 2:30 a.m.? I've never had a dog with this big a voice. When Okalani barks it blots out all other sound in the house. In the middle of the night-everyone gets up. And what could cause Okalani to go off at this ungodly hour?
Two semi-adult (21 & 24) children trying to sneak in because they forgot their house keys.

Yawn. And I had such plans for today.

I'm into the (hopefully) final rewrite. I've got my index cards out. One chapter, one card. Just a few notes so I can "see" a timeline. It helps. Going through each page, checking grammar, punctuation and story flow. And hoping this is the last time I'm rewriting.

So, what's you're final rewrite strategy? Any hints? Tips?

PS: Okalani is over there, sacked out on her bed, sound asleep now...

J.A. Konrath does it again in FUZZY NAVAL

J.A.Konrath will shock you with the first chapter of FUZZY NAVAL. Took me completely unawares. This book moved along at such a quick pace that I couldn't put it down. Vivid descriptions, scary characters and a story that sucks you right in and scares the pants off of you.
And if I ever see Konrath I'm going to have a long talk with him about the ending. It left me wanting more!

What I learned at NJRWA today

I sat in for a speed pitch session today at our NJRWA meeting. The amazing Lois Winston led this group and I think she made it clearer then anything I've read on the subject so far. Check out her "Talk Gerty to Me"- its one of my favorite books!
Here's your pitch: Goal, Motivation Conflict.
So, if you're pitching a romance (I write suspense, mystery, thriller and romance-I'm eclectic! But I'm pushing a romantic suspense out the door right now.)
Heroine: What's her goal? What's her motivation? Where does the conflict come into play?
Now your Hero: What is his goal in the story? What motivates him to keep moving? Conflict?
And what's bringing them together?
Simple? Yes and No.
I think when we work on something long enough everything starts to blur. So maybe we need a fill in the blanks:
She wants-xxx
Because-xxx
But look out for-xxx
He wants-xxx
And he has to do this because -xxx
But then-xxx-happens
And together they-xxxx

What do you think?
<"http://www.loiswinston.com/">

US Army Tortures Pigs!

I'm not a PETA person. Sometimes I think they are little extreme but here they are right. US Army Tortures Pigs

Today on Yahoo News it was reported that the US Army is using pigs for target practise. Well, actually they are just shooting them so they can patch them back up and then they'll know what its like to sew real living tissue back together.

I have to wonder why they chose pigs? Why not cows? or maybe dogs? Did they think pigs wouldn't be as objectionable?

I'm not a big fan of pigs but this is just wrong.

Where is the Humane Society? Why aren't they screaming about animal cruelty within the US Army?

Aside from the huge animal cruelty issue what about the soldiers who have to harm these animals for no reason. Okay, some may not have an issue with this but I'm sure there are many who do view this stunt as animal cruelty and will be emotionally scarred by this stunt.

So who can stop this? The US Army isn't listening. Can we write our congresmen? Senators?

Save the pigs!

Triptych by Karin Slaughter; A review!

There aren't many books that make me gasp, but this one did. I originally picked this book up because an agent mentioned Karin Slaughter on her blog. She said she'd love to have a writer like this in her stable. So, I just had to find out what made the agent drool.

And I got a real nice surprise.

Most books are predictable. I can guess the next move, the villain or the ending. Maybe that's because I read a lot, or study different styles of writing or because I write my own stories.

But this...

Triptych had some great twists in it that I never saw coming. Karin Slaughter's voice just sucks you right in and leaves you --you guessed it--gasping! There were times where I flipped back because what I was thinking turned out not to be so. She throws in several red herrings that will take you completely off guard. Slaughter is a master of optical illusion. I would definitely recommend this book to anyone who needs to be surprised and shocked. This book is page turner that will keep you up at night and make you late for work.

Read it!

On a roll and then...SPLAT!

No matter how much I plan to get things done its crash and burn. Carve out a few hours to do nothing but write and then someone calls, emails or I remember something I should be doing instead and there goes the whole day.
Does this ever happen to you?
Wake up, coffee and computer. Then something on some news show or blog catches my eye. Then I have to research that and one thing leads to another and I'm off into la la land. Running around in internetland and letting valuble writing time slip away.
Damn, another day gone.
What did you do all day???

Word Count? How's 139,750?

Ewwww, I just realized my word count was 139,750... (559 pages)

So, what do you think? Not such a good thing for a first time author? Is there an agent on earth who would even look at it?

Oy!

My head hurts.

Threshold of Midnight:

Diana sat down to breakfast with a madman. Eggshells, she thought. This is what they mean when they say walking on eggshells. This edge of your seat fear that the wrong move, the wrong word, will set him off.
She chanced a glance toward her husband and saw it. Right there in those Robert Redford blue eyes was the mania. That touch of insanity that crawled into their lives a few months ago was shimmering in her husband’s eyes like a gleam of another dimension. A place where madness grew like wild flowers in an open field. Or maybe weeds. Weeds that set their roots down deep in Luke’s brain and mangled his thoughts. Tightening on his brain cells and twisting them with fear anger and confusion. She knew if she could get him to some kind of mental hospital they would tell her the fruit loops in his box were doing the jig right now, trying to escape.
“Sorry Mrs. Archer. Your husband’s a couple beers short of a six, brain’s gone fishin’, out to lunch-probably permanently.”
Thank you much, doc, but that little fact is old news. Now, tell me how much time would a lady get for murder in New Jersey? If she used the insanity defense would it really matter which one of them was crazy?
“We need all the dry goods in today, Diana.” Luke insisted as he mopped up his soft-boiled eggs with his whole-wheat toast. “I’ve packed the linens in boxes and put them in the mud room. Take those down, too.”
Diana looked across the breakfast table at her husband and felt the heat of anger rise up inside her. And fear. There was always that too, inching up her spine, twisting her gut like some kind of venomous snake. And it won out over the anger every time. She looked away, across the room and out the window over the sink. The sun was out today. Birds singing in the trees and clouds drifting by making the morning seem just like every other day. If she focused on the trees and the sky it was almost like her life was normal. Just for a few minutes.
“Diana.”
Reluctantly, turning back to Luke, Diana promised herself she was not going to feed his mania today.
“Yes?”
Luke nodded and continued with his instructions, but Diana wasn’t listening. Instead, her thoughts turned to getting out of this situation.

Death or divorce.

Setting up a writing schedule.

When I'm busy, in a rush I seem to get so much more done then when I have a lot of time.
Now, I'm unemployed. I've been sitting here all day watching TV...HELP!
Well,,,,it wasn't that bad. I did start a new story today about a reluctant angel. 3 pages.
Okay, tomorrow's schedule:
Up early and read blogs over breakfast
Coffee and working on the finished WIP (rewriting)
Laundry (somebody has to do it)
Lunch
Wash dogs (they really need it!--maybe cat too, if I have enough courage.)
More laundry (Yes, its that bad.)
Think up blog entry to post.
Clean something.
More writing
Make dinner while rereading what was written today.
Dishes
Probably more laundry (oh so bad)
Sleep.

So what's your daily schedule look like?

Pain and Pressure

I had rotator cuff surgery back in September. I remember before surgery the doctor telling me if its just a little rip it won't be so bad. The worst case would be a full tear. Those are the most difficult to recover from. So, after surgery when I woke up from that haze of drugs I remember asking what it was. The doc said a full tear. I said, the worst, right? And he kinda nodded. Yes.

So recovery hasn't really been that bad. Painful - oh yeah, but I have more movement now then before surgery. Most days not bad at all. And those good drugs helped too.

Until the storms come. When a front (atmospheric pressure) comes through our area I feel like I have a giant toothache from my shoulder to fingertips. Sometimes even my neck and jaw ache with it.

like today.

Here I sit, wanting to write more but too damn achy.

I never believed it when people said the weather made their joints ache. I thought it must be an exaggeration.

Take my word for this...OUCHIE! bIG oUcHIE ON the WeAtheR issuE~

Live and learn.

So, what have you learned lately?

Characters. Where do they come from?

Ever meet someone on the street and think; Now, there's a character. Someone to build around.

Once I was writing a story and in this work was a man, named Willy, who had been in prison, now out and trying to be a better person. He's young, toughened by life and back living with his mom. He knows what he did broke his mother's heart and he tries to keep his cool under pressure mostly for her. He made promises and he'll put up with a lot not to hurt her again.

So, I'm grocery shopping with my daughter. There behind the deli counter is Willy. Almost the perfect Willy. Even his language was Willy.

So, where do your characters come from? Are they people you know?

And what about the people in your life you don't like? Do you take their uglier traits and put them into your bad guys?

Secret; I use the first names of those nasty girls from high school for the ugly characters in my stories. Am I evil for doing this?

Another turning point...

This photo is my latest WIP. Tomorrow is my last day at work. Feels strange. Freeing, scary, exciting and I'll miss my boss. She was the best boss in the world. It was a great office. Nice people worked there.

Via con dios' mi amigos.

Another turning point a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist directs you where to go
So make the best of this test and don't ask why
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time
It's something unpredictable but in the end It's right
I hope you had the time of your life
So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good heath and good time
Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth it was worth all the while
It's something unpredictable but in the end It's right
I hope you had the time of your life
It's something unpredictable but in the end It's right
I hope you had the time of your life
It's something unpredictable but in the end It's right
I hope you had the time of your life

Count down: three days

New Jersey has beautiful beaches. This is proven every summer when all of New York decends on us. (which is why I perfer the beaches in winter)

In summer, Beaches can get really crowded but the worse part is the boomboxes. (or minitured versions of them: Ipods with mega speakers) There should be a rule against them.

Vent over.

I've been working in a business that's busiest time is in the summer. 12 hour days could be the norm. Early in, late out, losing control of life except as it exsists in the office. I haven't seen summer in almost 10 years.

Unemployment in 3 days; LOOK OUT SUMMER! HERE I COME!

Painting & Used Books

When painting a straight line you don't look at your brush. You look at where you want the line to end. Then your hand (and the tip of the brush) will go there. Easy. One straight line.

While painting last night I forgot this little rule. Then it came back. Oh yeah, eyes on the goal, not the process.

That made me think about other goals.

In five days I'm unemployed and I face this mixed emotions.

-More time to write!

-Scary money issues...

-Time to paint!

-More scary money issues (I have no idea how unemployment works.)

-I have control of my life!

- um...or do I?

So my daughter and I were talking about working, high unemployment and the slumping economy. And she suggested combining our love of books with work by opening a used book store.

Questions: Would you/do you go to a used book store? Are there any in your area? Have you ever visited a used book store?

I found this one on the net. It looks like fun.

I feel the words...I just can't see them yet

Grief, It's a strange beast.

It hurt when Inky left. My daughter thinks she left like that to spare her the pain of having to bury her beloved cat.

Maybe so.

I've had mixed feelings. I had anger at her not letting me be there.

Silly, I know. She's a cat. A soul seperate from my own who lives (and should) by her own rules.

But still.

I'm not writing yet but my mind has started churning. Ideas for one of my WIPs have been coming to me.

So it's almost time to write again. It's coming, I can feel it.

And I'm painting. So that's a good thing. Paint soothes the soul. If I could touch my soul I'd paint it orange. If red is lust and pink is pure love then orange is an outrageous combination of love and lust. We should approach life with orange energy.

I found this picture on the net. The artist name is on the bottom. I love the mood her work sets. This guy looks lonely but also content. Like he's almost ready to move on. I understand him.

What the parrot is saying: AAAFLAAAAAK!

My children have a strange sense of humor. I know they stay up late teaching him these things. He still has yet to say I love you.

Book Roast

They are slice and dicing authors over at the Book Roast. Check it out! Exerpts, contests and grilled authors. What more could we ask for?

<--That's the pic from their blog. Kinda makes ya drool, doesn't it.

WARNING: Read Blogger bio's at your own risk. (They're a bit scary)

Congratulations California!

Today is the first day for same sex marriages in California. Yay!

And its about freakin' time. Now if all other states follow their lead we might truly have some equal rights for all.

One couple had been together 50 years.

God bless 'em. And I'm sure he does.

Congratulations to all the newly wedded couples in California.

Cat raises puppy!

This is a cat in an animal shelter in NJ. That little guy snuggled up next to her is a puppy. The puppy was brought in without its mother. So the ingenius people at the shelter gave the little pup to the cat to see what happened.

I'm still not writing. Just can't wrap my head around anything right now. But I am painting so thats something.

I'll be unemployed two weeks from today. I wasn't worried about that before but now...

I've been at this job for ten years...TEN YEARS! That's the longest I've ever stayed in one place. It was a crazy, interesting and incredibly stressful job. But never boring! (I need things to stay interesting. Too boring and I bail.) So, unemployment here I come.

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road....

The cat adopted the pup and nursed him for a few weeks until he moved to solid food. She was a good mama all around.

Jesus?

This is a scrub brush found in a Pet Smart in New Jersey. Now tell me, is that the face of Jesus or ... um... maybe Edgar Allen Poe?

I think it kinda looks a little like General Grant.

How much do you think it will go for on Ebay?

The old Inky story.

Found the old story. Okay, it was written years ago for my daughter. Needless to say--it needs work.
INKY & ME
I have something to tell you that you are never going to believe. But it’s true. As a matter of fact, it's so true, that I’m still, to this day, coughing up hairballs over it. Yes, hairballs. That part is true too. As you will see, when I tell you my story.
My name is Jacqui Taylor and I guess I’m your average fifth grader. I go to Cove Port School in a small town in New Jersey. It’s an okay school. Kind of small, but that’s all right because it just means everyone knows everyone else. I have hazel eyes and blond hair. I think my hair is my best feature. It goes all the way down to my waist and it’s real curly. Everyone I meet comments on it. The only thing I don’t like about it is having to comb it in the morning and the fact that Justin Roberts is always trying to pet it. Like it’s a kind of animal or something. Justin is a little strange. I’m kind of tall for my age. In fact, I’m the tallest kid in my grade. I like that because I get to look down on the other kids. Especially Jolene Harmon. I don’t like Jolene. She is always calling me names like geek face and muggly. She calls me muggly because she says I have an ugly mug. My mom says she probably doesn’t get much attention at home so she does things, like call people names, to get attention in school. I just wish she’d pick someone else to help her with her attention problem. I’m kind of tired of it. I call her fly. You know how pesky flies can be. When she comes near I ask someone to hand me a fly swatter. She hates it when I say that and usually she goes away.
Enough of that stuff, let me get on with my story. It all started one day on the way to school. I was waiting for my best friend, Jennifer Bates, on the corner near her house when I looked down and saw something shining in the grass.
I never should have picked it up. I never should have been so curious, but Jennifer was late and I was bored---so I reached down and pulled the shiny object out of the grass. It was a golden strip with colored jewels set all along its length. There was a little gold buckle at one end and little holes for the buckle to fit in at the other. It sparkled in the early morning sun, beautiful.
Just then Jennifer came running out of her house. “Come on, Jacqui!” she shouted as she ran past me, “We’re gonna be late again!”
I shoved the bracelet into my pocket and ran with her. We had been late twice last week and Mrs. Murdock, our teacher, said if it happened again she was calling our mothers. We raced into the schoolyard just as the last bell rang.
Jennifer and I slid into our desks as quietly as we could while Mrs. Murdock was writing on the blackboard. When she turned I was just pulling out my assignment book and trying to look innocent. For a minute I thought she was going to yell at us again. But she just pursed her lips together in a mean line and she looked from us to the clock on the wall and back again. Grabbing my pen, I flipped open the book and pretended I was trying to see what was behind her on the black board. Mrs. Murdock blew out a hissy breath between her teeth and turned back to the board. Jen and I looked at each other and she made took a hand and wiped it across her brow. We were safe.
At recess Jen and I met on the playground. That was when I stuck my hand into my coat pocket and remembered the bracelet. I pulled it out to show Jennifer and some of the other girls.
“Wow! It’s so sparkly!” Lindsey said taking it from my hand without asking.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” I answered as I reached out to snatch it back.
Lindsey was always taking things off other people’s desks without asking. She took pens, pencils, hair clips, anything. Like the whole world was hers to take at will.
“Are you going to wear it?” Jennifer asked.
“Yeah!” I answered, I hadn’t thought of that yet. I was just glad to have it. Wrapping it around my wrist, I was just buckling it on when Jolene came up to stick her big nose in.
“You’re wearing a cat collar? She asked in her nasty, I’m-better-than-you, voice.
“It’s a bracelet.” I said patiently while I rolled my eyes.
“My aunt’s cat has a collar just like that.” Jolene said smugly.
“Does anybody care about your aunt’s cat, Jolene?” Jennifer snapped. She didn’t like Jolene either.
Jolene glared at Jennifer. “Does anyone care your ugly?”
“Does anyone care you’re stupid?” Jennifer shouted.
“Does anyone care you’re a jerk?” Jolene yelled back at her. Her face was all red now and she crossed her arms over her chest like she was Mrs. Murdock. All she needed was that steel gray hair and slanty glasses.
“Quick! Someone get me a fly swatter!” I yelled and everyone laughed. Everyone, but Jolene that is.
“You think you’re so cool, Jacqui Taylor!” Jolene’s face got even redder as she screamed at me. “But you’re not! You are so mug ugly it hurts my eyes to look at you!”
“So leave!” I screamed back. “No one invited you over here anyway!”
Just then the bell rang and it was time to go back to class. Jolene had me so steaming mad that I forgot all about the bracelet. Mug ugly, mug ugly. Everytime she opened her stupid mouth that’s what came out. It was like it was the only thing that rattled around in that empty head of hers. I was so mad that I almost failed my history test. I decided if I did fail I would tear it up into little spitballs and fling them at Jolene’s hair. After I decided that I felt a little better.
It wasn’t until that night when I went to bed that I remembered the bracelet again. When I got into bed my cat, Inky, climbed up onto my pillow and stretched out. I named her Inky because she is all black, like the darkest ink. She’s big and soft and sleeps next to my pillow every night. She’s my best friend. If cats could talk I’d be in a lot of trouble because I tell her all my secrets.
For a cat, Inky is kind of weird. She lays on her back with all four legs sticking straight up in the air and sleeps like that all the time. People who come into our house and see her always ask if she’s dead. She is always sneaking up to drink my Mom’s coffee when no one is looking and when we set the table for dinner she sits in a chair and waits to be fed. Mom says Inky thinks she’s human.
When she climbed up onto my bed that night I took the bracelet off my wrist and showed it to Inky.
“Isn’t it pretty, Ink?”
Inky purred and rubbed her chin against the bracelet. When I held the gold bracelet against her black fur the jewels in it seemed to glow brighter. It flitted through my mind that Jolene might be right. Maybe it is a cat collar, but I brushed it away. Jolene wasn’t right about anything. Ever.
“Would you like to try it on, Ink?”
She moved onto my lap and rubbed her head against the bracelet again. I took that as a yes and attached the collar around her neck. When it was all buckled on the collar seemed to glow again. Just for a minute, then it looked normal. I blinked my eyes. Did it really glow like that or was I just getting tried? I blinked my eyes again and Inky meowed. She bent her head as if trying to see what was on her neck then she looked at me.
“Come on Inky lets go see how pretty you look.”
I scooped Inky up and took her to the mirror over my dresser. We stared at ourselves. Inky meowed again and then the bracelet started glowing. I mean this time it really glowed. The jewels blazed as if there were fire inside them. The golden band was so bright now it seemed white hot.
“Inky—“
I didn’t have to wonder if I saw it or have to blink it away. I knew what I was seeing. It looked like it was hot, close to bursting into flames. Even Inky was staring at the bracelet in the mirror, her green eyes as big as quarters! I slowly reached up to touch the bracelet. It was warm and seemed to glow brighter when I touched it.
“Oh my God. Inky, what’s happening?”
Then I started to get scared and Inky was starting to squirm and meow. Only it sounded more like “Yeeeoowwie”.
She was scared too. Suddenly, I wanted to get the bracelet off Inky’s neck. I mean, what if it was going to burn her or something? As I took her back over to the bed she fought to get away. I practically had to lay on top of her to undo the buckle. As soon as it was off Inky jumped to the other side of the bed. I tossed the bracelet onto the bed and the glow slowly faded until it was just plain gold again. Then I relaxed a bit. I rubbed Inky’s neck where the bracelet had been.
“Its okay now, Inky.”
With a sniff in the direction of the bracelet, she climbed back onto my pillow and stretched out on her back with her legs in the air.
I looked at the collar again and remembered how it seemed to glow like a hot coals. That was so weird that I suddenly decided that I didn’t want it any more, I didn’t even want to touch it. I took a hanger from my closet and hooked the bracelet with one end of it. I opened the window and let the bracelet fall into the garden below. Once it was out of my room I felt better. I looked at Inky all stretched out on my pillow and decided to join her. Now that the bracelet was out of my room I felt better. It wasn’t so scary. Maybe it was just the light or something, right? That’s all.
I turned out the light and climbed into bed.
“You’re okay, right Inky?” I stroked her belly, then worked my hand up and around her neck. She felt fine, normal. No burn marks or anything. “It wasn’t anything.”
I had the strangest urge to put my feet up in the air but instead I just drifted off to sleep.