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??)

The play structure from hell is finished!

Whew!

Who knew building something from a kit would be so much work. Of course, if we didn’t have to deal with the three gremlins, it would have gone a lot faster, but I am proud to say we are now done, and it looks good. The kids are thrilled.

Well…they were. Until Gremlin #2 realized a family of spiders had taken over. He screamed like a little girl – over and over and over. I will actually be surprised if he uses the darn thing after the terror he experienced yesterday.

But, this is the result of all our hard work:

Not too bad.

On the writing front, I am knee-deep in revisions for Marina’s Bane. And for all my grumbling to the contrary, I have to admit I’m liking the result. That agent’s suggestions were good – she obviously knows what she’s talking about. I have been a stress case the last few days, but hopefully I’m starting to get a handle on this thing and will be done soon. I did this same thing when I re-worked WFM – felt like I was floundering until I got into it, then realized it wasn’t nearly as bad as I made it out to be. Of course, my cp is sick to death of hearing me whine and complain – to which I owe her a great big THANK YOU! – but hopefully I have repelled those annoying flying doubt demons for the time being.

Ha! Yeah. Right. Until the next major crisis.

Have I mentioned how terrified I actually am of getting an agent? I mean, I’ve pretty much got this querying thing down. Write letter, send it out, receive rejection. Or more lately, write letter, send it out, get request, THEN get rejection. This whole ‘I like your work’ thing is new for me, and as great as it is, I’m a bit freaked about what comes next.

Wait. You mean I can’t just write and hide in my little hole? I have to actually talk knowledgeably about my book and my work and my characters? Ay ya ya…

DH is currently snoopy dancing, too. His company just announced bonus kickers for three of their products. Guess which sales force is the only one to have all three of those drugs? Oh yeah, DH’s sales force. He was uber-excited when he got home yesterday and told me his payout potential for the next few quarters. My mouth about hit the floor. Obviously, someone higher up didn’t realize one sales force had the potential to rake in the dough. He was so excited, he promised me a trip to Hawaii if he makes his goals. (And so far, that’s looking really likely.)

Baby, I’m there. And I’m holding you to it.

Then I told DH he could be my own personal romance hero if he takes me to Hawaii. And I might just be thankful enough to offer him the scene I just finished writing. *said with an evil grin*

All in all, today is looking like a good day.

The falling snow increased in intensity, the headlights from Ethan’s BMW illuminating the large, white flakes as they danced across the road in the dark. With one hand on the wheel, he reached over and turned up the radio.

“I like this song.” Sam tapped her foot to the beat of Anything But Mine and hummed along with Kenny Chesney. “I’m reading a book by the same title.”

“Any good?”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, actually, it is. But the author’s sort of left me hanging. Kinda sucks.”

“Hate it when that happens.” Ethan smiled and turned the wheel. Nothing happened. His brow creased, and he eased his foot over to the brake. The pedal pushed in with little effort, but the car didn’t slow.

Sam sat up and glanced over at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Something’s not right.”

Her eyes widened. “What do you mean ‘not right’?”

“I mean, nothing’s happening here.”

The car continued on the same straight path. Ethan lifted his hands off the wheel and tried to stay calm. A flashing sign up in the distance read, “Attention“.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Sam said quietly.

The sign grew in size as they approached, orange letters flashing in the dark. “Stay calm. Don’t panic. I’ll get back to you soon.“

“Oh, crap.”

“What?” Sam asked frantically.

“She’s ditching us! We’re in the car and she’s ditching us to go work on something else!”

“No.” Disbelief laced through Sam’s words. “She wouldn’t do that to us. Not again. Not now. We’re on our way to a party. I’m dressed in this hot outfit and I was planning on jumping you when we got back!”

His eyes widened, and he glanced her direction. “Oh, baby.” Frantic fingers reached for the door. “This is so not fair. Quick, try the door. See if we can jump free.”

She reached for the door handle, but nothing happened. The window was locked as well. “It’s not working. It’s not working! We’re trapped!”

Ethan let out a deep sigh and leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms. “Son of a bitch, she’s leaving us in limbo.”

Sam dropped her hands in defeat and frowned. “Think she dumped us for the wall-backing-alpha-ass?”

“God, I hope not. I don’t need to listen to him again.”

“Yeah. Me, either.” She sighed. With a smile, she reached out to run her finger down his arm. “You know, we are in a car. I teach high school. I’m sure we could think of some things to keep ourselves occupied until she comes back.”

A grin quirked his mouth, and he looked over, his face brightening. “Oh yeah? Tell me what you have in mind, Ms. Parker.”

There’s no real rhyme or reason to this, just things that are on my mind.

An agent has shown interest in Marina’s Bane. Wahoo, yippie! For some reason, I’m not all that thrilled. I mean, I am, but I’m more at the “Oh, crap, now what do I do?” stage. In an email she mentioned there were “problems” that needed to be fixed, which means revisions. Which is no biggie…but I’ve been obsessing all weekend about what those “problems” could be. She called on Friday, but of course, I missed the call, so I have to wait until to tomorrow to phone her back.

And I’m still curious what the other agents who have the manuscript have to say about it. Have they read it? Did they like it? Will I hear from them soon? I don’t want to jump at the first agent who shows interest – I want to make an informed decision about representation (uh, yeah, right…informed. I feel like a first-year teacher standing in front of her first class on her first day, tongue-tied with no clue what she’s going to say or do.) So many questions running through my mind.

Which of course means I haven’t been able to write this weekend because I’ve beeen obsessing over the above. I’m on pg 18 of chapter 10 in the WIP, and if I had any self-motivation, I’d wrap that chapter up and move one. But I can’t. Between building the play structure from Hell (see below) and worrying about agents, I’ve accomplished zilch on the WIP. And I should be working on it now – but alas, I’m here blogging instead (What does that tell you about my procrastination skills?) Part of me says, “what’s the point?” I’m going to get a revision list tomorrow for MB and my focus will shift there, so why even worry about the WIP at all right now?

Because I should. Because I can’t just leave them hanging. Because the scene is in my head, I just can’t seem to make my fingers punch it into the computer.

*sigh*

On an unrelated topic, I think I’m going to enter a contest. I know, I know, I hate contests. I do, but this one looks okay. And I want to see what sorts of feedback WFM gets in a contest before the GH in Dec. Because I’m thinking of entering that one (Lord, why?).

And the play structure from Hell? Making progress. Worked on it all day yesterday with the DH. We now have the fort done (aside from all the fun stuff that needs to be attached, like the telescope, and driving wheel, and slide, etc.) But wow – it looks good! We began working on the monkey bars/swings today, but it started raining and Gremlin #3 wasn’t cooperating. So we bagged it, and DH decided to take Gremlin #1 to a baseball game instead (in the rain…don’t even try to figure that one out. I expect them home any time.). I guess we’ll be working on it again this week. But…the major construction is done – thank you, Lord.

As of today:

Marina’s Bane:

3 fulls out – 1 month, 1 month, 1 week
2 Partials out – 4.5 weeks, 7 weeks
1 other request on a partial if I cut 10K words. Waiting to send on that one until I hear back on the fulls out currently.
14 Out-standing Queries (may need to write off a few of those).

Wait For Me:

1 Partial out – 7 weeks
1 10-pg partial out (I know, don’t laugh) – 1 week
7 Queries from a week ago still waiting on

Debating whether I should send more MB queries, or wait on the fulls I have out now and query WFM instead. Decisions, decisions…

Probably the one RWR article that gets me going is the First Sale column. I mean, come on, I hope to be there soon. So I’m always curious “who’s” making it now. And while I’m usually excited to read it, I’m generally depressed after having done so.

So and so announces her first sale. This was the first manuscript she finished. She has been writing for one year.

Well, gee. That makes me feel spiffy.

So and so announces her first sale. This was the second manuscript she finished. She has been writing for twelve years.

Now here’s where my brow creases and my eyes cross. Does that mean it took her twelve years to write two manuscripts? Or has she written umpteen-million manuscripts since and number two was the first that sold? I usually walk away from the First Sold column scratching my head for various reasons.

The topic of first sales and old manuscripts recently came up on the RWC list. And having read through most of the responses, I walked away with the feeling that moving ahead with new work is generally more productive than going back and reworking old manuscripts. Several published authors said they just “knew” when they had the manuscript that was “it”. That they had found their voice and knew that was the one that would get them there.

But tell me this…how do you know when you have THE ONE?

I recently reworked an old manuscript. And while I dreaded it from the get-go, the rewrite went so much faster than I ever expected. Once I started writing, the flow was there, the characters came alive and the plot laid itself out for me. Does that mean I’ve found my voice? Who knows. I do like the result of that rewrite, and I’ve received great feedback from everyone who’s read it. But does that mean it’s THE ONE?

No clue. I’m only starting to query that manuscript now. Time will tell, I guess.

I also know my writing is better with my WIP than it was in my last few manuscripts. (If the big red marks from my cp’s are any indication…I’m getting less and less of those with each crit. And damn it, I am learning how to use a comma correctly! LOL). The mechanics of writing are easier, the scenes pop into my head faster. But in the midst of the process, I often feel like I’m writing drivel. Only when a cp says, “no, this is good,” do I think, “okay, maybe I’m starting to get it”. But does that mean I’ve found my voice?

No clue. If anything, I think I’m only more confused.

When I was a teacher, I used to live for summer break. Long, lazy days, no responsibilities, nothing to do but bask in the warmth and relish my time away from hormonally crazed teenagers. Every teacher knows without summer vacation, they’d lose that slight grasp on their sanity they’re desperately trying to hang on to.

Then I quit teaching. And now, summer vacation is no longer that most treasured time of the year, it’s my own personal HELL.

Darling daughter had her last day of school yesterday. Forget the fact she was only in Kindergarten and was only going to school half days anyway. Forget the fact she’s six and doesn’t know what true boredom is. Five minutes after arriving home from school, she was going out of her mind. “There’s nothing to do. I’m bored! What am I going to do all summer long?”

I’m now convinced summer vacation was created by evil-teachers to punish parents who sick their monster children on them nine months out of the year. Every teacher is laughing their ass off right now as they sit on their back porch drinking mai tai’s at ten o’clock in the morning, relishing the fact they have two months off from screaming children, demanding parents and that nightmare known as teaching.

But as I sit here trying to write, listening to my six-year-old who doesn’t know how to stop talking (UGH, where did she learn that annoying trait?), one small consolation fact is trickling through my mind. Those teachers might have two months of freedom, but come September, I’m going to be laughing all the way to school and back. Because you won’t only be getting one of my non-stop talking children, you’ll be getting two. And just wait until all three of them are there.

Bwah ha ha ha…

Payback is a bitch.

Since I’m currently in Query Hell, I thought I’d take a minute to dissect the most recent rejection letter I received on a requested partial. Seriously, do agents get together and mass-copy these things? Cause I swear I’ve received this one numerous times from different agencies.

Dear Ms. Naughton:

Thank you for the opportunity to consider your partial of Marina’s Bane.
What the hell kind of title is that anyway? Were you out to lunch when you came up with it?

Unfortunately, after careful consideration, …
Careful consideration? ROFL. As if. Do you realize how many submissions I receive each month? You’re lucky I read the first three pages.

…I do not feel enthusiastic enough about the project to be able to pursue it further.
It sucked. Seriously. I don’t even know what else to say about it.

As I am sure you can imagine I receive a tremendous number of submissions, and are forced to limit my focus to only a few projects. (This agent obviously needs a grammar lesson.)
Which doesn’t include yours. And probably never will.

Agenting is subjective and even though we are passing on your project right another agent might feel differently. (That’s their missing word, not mine).
But probably not. We’re not a big agency and you couldn’t even “wow” us. Seriously reconsider your career choice.

I wish I could send out a more personal response.
ROFLMAO. If you believe that one, I have land to sell you in Siberia.

Thank you for your interest in this agency.
Please, please, please don’t send us anything in the future.

Please accept my best wishes for your success in your writing career.
But if you ever sell a book, I’ll eat my hat. Odds aren’t in your favor, sweetheart.

Sincerely,
An Agent You’ll Never Sign With.

Linda’s resorted to creating her own form rejection letters to mail with her queries. Might not be a bad idea. At least then I wouldn’t have to read between the lines.

Dear Uber-Agent,

I would like to take this opportunity to tell you about my 500,000-word “almost” (but not even close) completed suspense novel, The Sucky Writer.

Romance Novelist Elisabeth Naughton has been searching for an agent all her life. Unable to face rejection, she continues to write with no end in sight. She’s a panster at heart and doesn’t understand the concepts of plotting, or manuscript length or even character arcs. But she knows how to put words on paper, dammit. And she’s darn good at it.

When she decides to hone her craft by signing up for a writing workshop from her local writer’s group, she thinks she’s finally got it made. But the wicked-witch-of-the-west instructor has it out for Elisabeth, and soon our fiesty heroine is fighting for her life amid paper cuts and plotting sheets and little yellow stickies that seem to get stuck in the most inappropriate areas. Can she ever find her way out of the mess she’s created? And will that hunky agent she’s been stalking for the last five years ever be able to rescue her from the wicked witch’s mind-zapping control? And will he want to?

The Sucky Writer is the only book I’ve ever attempted to write. It combines my 8th grade background in keyboarding with my desire to be the next Danielle Steele. I need a way out of this single-wide trailer and the eight kids tugging on my pant legs. My no-good, dirt-bag husband left me for a younger model last year. But that’s another story. And I’ll wait until you sign me before I get into it. Woo-hee is that a tale you don’t want to miss. That is the last time I let my trash-talking sister set me up on a blind date with our first cousin. The things I could tell you…

If you would like to read more of The Sucky Writer, I could send you at least the first five pages…if I can find some paper that hasn’t been colored on, or stepped on, or shredded by those monsters known as children lately. Gimme a minute and let me see what I can find.

Sincerely,

Ima Nutcase

Seriously.

I’m a pretty private person. In the year and a half I’ve been seriously writing, I’ve only shared my words with a handful of people. I finally mustered up the courage to tell my mother about my writing for two reasons. One, I wanted to go to Nationals in Reno this year, and two, I needed a babysitter for the kids while DH was at work during the day. Since my mother is a teacher and is off for the summer, she was willing to watch the kids. But asking that one small favor has opened up a whole can of worms.

She wants to read my book.

Oh, Lord.

My mother does not read romance. She reads mysteries – Grisham, Margolin – anything but romance. She read The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks and had trouble with the love scene. Well, crap. I’m screwed. She can’t read my work. Can’t. No way – no how.

So she was here last night for DD’s Kindergarted graduation. And she asked. Again. “When do I get to read your book? Do I have to wait until it’s published?”

Um…I’m thinking she will have to wait a lot longer than that if I have anything to say about it.

Marina’s Bane, which is under consideration with several agents now has . . . let me count, um . . . three full love scenes, two other partials. Oh, yeah, like I want her reading that. So that’s out of the question. I could give her Wait For Me to read instead, that’s done now. It only has one love scene. But, oh wait . . .HELLO! my alpha agressive wall-backing hero and the near violent love scene would probably give my mother a heart attack.

I don’t want to have to explain to my kids that grandma died while reading mommy’s book.

Okay. I’m screwed. No way she can read my work.

And then there’s my sweet, adorable six year old daughter. She knows I write. She asks about my work all the time. She knows Marina’s Bane is about an archaeologist. Last night at graduation, each child made a poster of what they wanted to be when they grew up. Then as they walked across the stage in their little graduation cap, the teacher announced over the microphone what their aspirations were. My daughter said, “When I grow up, I want to be an archaeologist.” Sweet, huh? Oh yeah. She also wants to read my book. “Mommy, when you get your book made, I want to sit with you and we can read it together.”

Oh, yeah. Like that’s ever gonna happen!