If I ever have to sell on proposal I will be in deep do-do. It’s no secret I can’t write a suckopsis to save my life. Wait. Correction. I can write a suckopsis prior to writing the book, though the book will end up being nothing like the suckopsis. Which, my pubbed friends tell me, is really no big deal.

(Maybe I’m doing things right after all???)

The-book-that-will-never-end has taken a strange twist. I ended up writing a scene the other night that went in the opposite direction I’d planned. (Bye, bye suckopsis.) I’m always amazed when this happens. It’s like my brain automatically knows what has to happen, even though I’m trying to force the book to go in a different direction. When I finished the scene, I immediately thought, what the heck did I just do? Then I stepped back, let it sink in and realized, Wow. That was so cool. How the heck did I just do that? And voila! just like that I knew how the book was going to end. Not anywhere near where I’d thought it would end (in plot OR location).

So now I have hope that the-book-that-will-never-end might just have an ending after all. I’d hoped to have it done by Nationals. Probably won’t happen. But I’m going to be very, very close (not counting rewrites and edits, and oh, my God, all those threads I have to fix).

Have you ever had this happen? Have a scene totally pop out that you didn’t plan and send your book in a different (better) direction?

In the event you live under a rock, you might not know that THE OREGON STATE BEAVERS WON THEIR SECOND STRAIGHT NCAA COLLEGE WORLD SERIES TITLE last night.

Awesome victory. Fabulous series. A truly talented and incredible team. I blogged about it here.

So I’ve been thinking about the game all day. About how cool it was. About how totally unexpected too. And it got me thinking about my favorite baseball movies – Bull Durham, Field of Dreams, The Rookie. God, I love baseball movies. So much fun. How come there aren’t more books with baseball heroes? I know they’re out there, I just don’t have any. I have one in mind. It keeps popping up in my brain, begging to be written. I seriously need to write it (after about the bazillion other ideas I have circulating). But like everything else, that particular “thought” got pushed to the side of my brain where I store future ideas. And then guess what happened?

I went to the gym to work out this morning. Now, when I go to the gym, the place is dead. I purposely go when there’s no one else there because I don’t like to workout when the chest-pumping weight lifters are in the weight room trying to pick up girls. In the mornings when I go the place usually consists of other moms like me, a few retirees, and depending on the day, a group of elderly women and men from the nearby retirement home. So today I got there, dropped the kids off at the daycare, and bopped up to the weight room like I do every day. Then stopped short when my jaw nearly hit the floor.

The weight room was packed. No. Wait. That doesn’t give you a good visual. The place was packed with toned, fit 18-30 year old men in tanks and shorts. Not weight lifters. Athletes. Seriously good looking athletes. For a minute I thought I was being shown a glimpse of heaven. Then I gave my head a shake and realized these guys were real. Turns out, they were a visiting baseball team (see…baseball seriously on my brain!!!) in town to play our local minor league Volcanoes tonight. They’d popped over for a workout, just like me. And what do you think that did for my baseball book idea????

You got it. I’ve been thinking about it all day.

And the Beav win. Man, that was awesome.

Major congrats to the Beavers. You guys rock!!!

(In a good way.)

Okay, not a totally naked rant. More like a naked mannequin rant.

The dress I bought to wear to the Rita/GH ceremony at Nationals is gorgeous. I totally love it. It’s black, full length, halter style, fitted but not skin-tight. Classy. Elegant. Perfect. The problem? The back dips down just low enough so a regular strapless bra won’t work. I would love to be able to go sans bra, but alas, after nursing three Gremlins it’s not in my future (not without some serious surgery). So, I went looking for something that would work. And I found this: The Flex Body Bra. Touted as Hollywood’s Red Carpet Secret.

I ordered it. It came in the mail this week. And I tried it on.

Oh. My. God. I have NO idea how this thing works!!! I spent like an hour trying to get it on. The sticky parts kept unsticking. The whole cup area kept falling off. And I never even got close to the “cleavage” it promised. After spending $45 on the sucker, I’m more than ticked. It came with two lines for directions and nothing else. Two lines!!! A woman with a Masters degree should be able to figure this thing out, but for the life of me, I can’t.

Anyone ever used one of these torture devices?

Not THERE, but there.

You know the place. Stage Two, Chapter Fifteen of Elisabeth’s Dreaded Manuscript Stages. The point where I am sure I will never get all these plot points outlined on my notebook into my book. The point where my eyebrows are in jeopardy. The point where I’m willing to hog-tie one more child that interrupts me when I’m in the flow.

*sigh*

And yet I keep plugging along because – finally – the end is in sight.

How’s your writing coming this week? And what stage are you at?

Oh, you just can’t write stuff this good.

Paris Hilton Finds God In Jail

I thought I was speechless before. Turns out…I’m not.

Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’m just . . . speechless (though not a bit surprised).

Paris Hilton Released From Jail Early

Rafe drags a hand through his hair as he listens to the beep, beep, beep echoing in his ear that eerily translates into the-recipient-of-this-call-is-out-of-the-service-area.

At least he hopes that’s all it means.

“What’s the matter?” Lisa asks, walking into the living room of their Palm Beach condo. Tropical palms frame a view of water and white sand out the wide two-story windows. Sunlight glints off her fiery-red hair.

Rafe frowns, stares down at the phone in his hand. “Pete’s not answering his cell. I checked around. No one’s seen him since the night of the auction.”

“He was with Maria, right? Maybe they decided to celebrate his hugely profitable success. Lock themselves in somewhere nice and quiet, get all cozy.”

Rafe shoots her a look. “This is Pete we’re talking about. He doesn’t get all nice and cozy with any woman. It’s not his style. Maria’s just a means to scratch an itch.”

Lisa’s smug look says volumes. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Rafe tips his head and eyes her. “That was a long time ago. Before I even met you. Do you really want to do the whole ex thing? Because, querida, you’ve got just as many skeletons in your closet as I do.”

Lisa shakes her head and smiles. “Touche.” She settles onto the sage-colored couch, tucks her legs underneath her. “So if he’s not with Maria, and he’s not answering his cell, then where is he?”

“The question isn’t where is he, the question is who the hell is he with.” Rafe rubs a hand over his mouth and looks back at the cell. “And I have a really bad feeling about this. Something tells me he’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

Lisa glances at the phone in his hand. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s not like he’s locked in a basement somewhere or anything.”

Rafe’s eyes shoot up to hers. The blood drains from his face. “Oh, crap. You don’t think . . .”

Lisa slowly rises from the sofa. Green eyes wide and the slightest bit worried. “No. She wouldn’t do that to him. Would She?”

“Holy hell, I think She just might. Depends on how stubborn he was being with her. You know what Pete’s like when he gets going.”

Lisa starts to chuckle, a slow rolling laugh that grows in intensity until her whole body is shaking with mirth and tears are rolling down her cheeks. “Oh, God. I would love to be a fly on the wall of that room. He’s not in trouble. He’s screwed!”

Rafe looks back at the phone and frowns. Friends stuck together, and right now it seemed his closest buddy was being fed to the wolves and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to help. Poor sap. If Pete was really in The Basement, he wasn’t just screwed, he was SOL.

“Yeah,” Rafe mutters, taking the wimpy way out and thanking the heavens above it’s Pete and not him. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Finally. The zone.

18 pgs yesterday! Woohoo. But better still is I think I have a handle on how this book is going to play out. It’s only taken me 200+ pgs to get here.

The great part about being a planster (vague plotter, mostly panster) is though you know where a story is going, how you get there is new and exciting. The bad part? Every chapter is new and exciting. And sometimes very very sticky to get out of. But I’m starting to see a way out of this web, so there’s hope.

How’s your progress this week?