Off to Nationals in Reno tomorrow.

ACK! I’m actually going to have to pitch my book!

*I can do this…I can do this…* Gena Showalter assured me editors are NOT the spawn of Satan. I’m holding her to it.

Will be checking in with Linda periodically if anyone’s interested in updates. She may be posting about the week on her blog.

And Alice is planning on tormenting me Friday morning (at 7am…YIKES!) at breakfast before my agent and editor appointments. Thinking of banging on Alice’s door at 3am just to return the favor.

Will see you all next week!

I’m live, baby!

Elisabeth Naughton’s Webpage

Great BIG thank-you’s to my uber-special CP Joan who designed the site. You rock, J!!!

Not sure how my answers translated to this, but still kinda fun. Take the quiz.

Time it takes to print a 100,000-word manuscript?

All day on my deskjet printer.

Cost of printing and mailing said manuscript?

Roughly $30 (ink and paper) + $12 to mail.

Amount of stress as I wait to see said manuscript was delivered?

More than I can calculate.

Learning said manuscript was lost in the mail and never reached uber-agent?

PRICELESS.

“I don’t want to be a heroine.” Lisa flopped onto a bench on the boat, her bangs lifting in the slight breeze. Crystal clear blue water sparkled behind her, sunlight glinted off the white deck. “Damsel in distress, woe-is-me attitude. It’s not me.”

With a heavy sigh, Maren tossed the paperback book at her feet, straightening from her spot on the red cushions of the chaise lounge. “Watch it.”

Lisa shot her a look. “You did whine. Quite a bit, I think.”

Maren’s brow raised. “Don’t go there. I had reason to whine.” Studying Lisa, a smile quirked at her mouth. “And I can’t wait to watch you suffer. We’ll just see how much whining you do when it’s your turn.”

“I don’t want to be a heroine,” Lisa said again. “Doesn’t She get it? I’m not heroine material.”

Laughing, Maren crossed her bare feet at the ankles. “Please. Do you think I wanted to sleep with Declan? She doesn’t listen to anything we have to say.”

“Oh, my God.” Lisa’s face paled. “You don’t think She’d do something like that to me, do you?”

Smiling wider, Maren nodded. “You don’t stop your bitching and complaining, She just might.”

“Damn it.” Lisa slapped the bench. “I don’t want to be a heroine. I’m almost forty. My chances of getting hit by a truck are better than finding a husband after the age of forty. I don’t do happily ever after.”

Maren’s eyes rolled. “Give it a rest, Maxwell. She’s a romance novelist, She doesn’t listen to statistics or pay attention to rules.” Reaching for her book, Maren flipped it open, settled into the cushions. “If you’re so worried, stop talking to Her.” She glanced back up again. “And aren’t you supposed to be diving, anyway? We still haven’t finished excavating Leonard’s ship.”

Lisa pursed her lips and tipped her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be stressing out about meeting Thad’s parents? They’re on a flight in, I do believe.”

Maren’s eyes darkened, and she turned back to her book. “You’re such a bitch. Thanks so much for reminding me. You know, I hope She tortures you. I can’t wait to watch.”

With a scowl, Lisa stood, eyeing the scuba tanks on the deck. “I have a sickening feeling you’re going to get just what you want.”

Villain?

She thinks I’m a villain? Back the train up, Missy. I’m not a villain. I’m hero material, chica. Have you not seen me? Blond hair, stone gray eyes, one nice, hard body. I’m every woman’s fantasy, and YOU think I’m a villain?

Right. Think again.

I’m the sheriff of this po-dink county. That right there makes me honorable. And aren’t YOU the one who said you liked flawed characters? Well, babe, I’ll admit I’ve got flaws, but you’re uber-writer, you can work with that.

Okay, okay. So I did a few bad things. But hey, if soap characters can rape and murder and be redeemed and turned into heroes, so can I. And that first murder? Technically, not really my fault. I wasn’t the only one there, yet you’re pinning this one on me. Not fair, chica. And the second? Please. That was self preservation. I had no choice. Besides, you can’t hold that against me. It was seventeen years ago. For crying out loud, I was just a kid.

I’ve learned the error of my ways. (Hee Hee Hee…)

I just need a good woman to set me straight. *evil grin* Actually, I’ve got the perfect one in mind. Dark curly hair, ebony eyes, a sinful body. Yeah. She’s perfect. There’s just one problem. You’ve turned her attention toward that obnoxious psychiatrist. He’s the real villain. Don’t you get it? He’s the one behind all of this.

Do you honestly think you can pin the villain label on me, and I’ll just sit back and take it? Are you really that stupid? No way you’re getting away with that. Somebody will suffer for this. Mark my words.

Villain, my ass. I’m a hero, damn it.

A hero.

I made the mistake of checking the calendar today. Did you know there’s only three weeks until Nationals? Eee-gad. Not good.

I have three weeks to figure out how I’m going to fit back into my regular slacks. My son is five months now, it’s time to lose this baby weight. I’m tired of it. People tell me I look good. Yeah. Right. They’re just being nice. My SIL said yesterday, “Wow. You look good. Are you running a lot now?” Hello. I had a two-week bout with bronchitis. I’ve just started running again. (hack, hack, cough, grumble grumble). SIL is 24 wks pregnant. Of course I look good compared to her. I don’t look pregnant! (BTW…I hate her. She has just the tiniest little bulge of a belly, and she looks cute and perky and gorgeous. And she just started wearing maternity clothes. Hate her. (said with all the love I can muster up right now.))

Which brings me back to this baby weight. Gotta figure out a way to get it off. I was back in my regular pants by the time Gremlin #2 was 3.5 months. Something’s not right here. Of course, I was in my 20’s with him, and I’m now in my 30’s (shhh…don’t tell anyone), but that’s no excuse. DH says I was more dedicated to working out after Gremlin #1 and #2. This time (so he says), I’m more interested in writing.

Well, yeah. And someday my writing’s going to get you that little sports car you want, DH.

So baby weight (sorry, got sidetracked there). Linda’s considering the Special K diet to lose six lbs. Piper’s going drastic and may cut off a leg or two to drop her weight. Somewhere in between seems like a better fit for me. (Have an aversion to blood. Hacking off my legs might not work.) I’ve done the low carb thing – and while it worked great the first time, anytime I tried after, it didn’t work so well (think my body just remembered and said “No way. Not this time.” Maybe I should just wire my mouth shut. Yeah. That’d work. Of course, baby might not like it – kinda limits what he gets.

*sigh*

Will have to ponder this some more.

In the meantime, I’ll obsess over my agent search, Nationals and the three weeks left to get an agent BEFORE Nationals. My days are dwindling. I sooo want to give back my agent appointment and enjoy the conference without stressing about pitching.

And I’d really like to be back in my regular slacks by then. Maybe I should hit the grocery store and get some Special K.

Or a hacksaw.

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.
(Hardly seems worth it.)

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.
(Now that’s more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.
(O.M.G.!) (-another reason to stay away from strangers!)

A pig’s orgasm lasts 30 minutes.
(In my next life, I want to be a pig.)

A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death.
(Creepy.) (I’m still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories an hour.
(Don’t try this at home, maybe at work)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male’s head off.
(“Honey, I’m home. What the….?!”)

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It’s like a human jumping the length of a football field.
(30 minutes..lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.
(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.
(I still want to be a pig in my next life…quality over quantity)

Butterflies taste with their feet.
(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.
(Hmmmmmm……)

Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.
(If you’re ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.
(okay, so that would be a good thing)

A cat’s urine glows under a black light.
(I wonder who was paid to figure that out?)

An ostrich’s eye is bigger than its brain.
(I know some people like that.)

Starfish have no brains.
(I know some people like that, too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.
(If they switch, they’ll live a lot longer)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.
(What about that pig??)