I’m enjoying vacation and don’t really have any updates for you at this time.
Please enjoy this cartoon:
now that i’ve finally gotten organized, we’ve hit the apocalypse. of course.
Am I prepared? Probably not.
Do I care? Not particularly.
Let me just say, I’m not organized or ready for any type of Apocalypse at all. I’m supposed to be. I live in Washington and we’re on the legendary Ring of Fire. You think I would be, I’m not. In fact, if any type of end-of-the-world situation occured, I’d pray I was at work because we have a shit ton of safety gear there.
Sure, it had to take several other major world disasters (four) for my office to get it through their heads that we needed some type of emergency plan, but it’s better late than never, right?
Speaking of disasters…
Grab your emergency kit and be prepared to hunker down, because we’re approaching Mayanmageddon!
I think I’ll celebrate 12/22/12, the passing of Mayanmageddon, by watching Captain America.
Or, something… American.
Yeah.
Neither here nor there, want to know how I’m spending today? I’ll be writing! Is that a shocker? Well, guess what! I’ve actually been writing! Not so much in paragraph form, but along the lines of world-building. You see, earlier this week a Eureka! moment cleared away some roadblocks I’ve encountered. My notes are getting longer and longer by the hour! I’m merely taking a break from my Real Life hours to keep in touch with the most important people on the planet. YOU! Without you, I have no reason to write at all… Other than the incredibly potent urge to keep my fingers flying on my keyboard, or that pen attached to the paper, dispelling all of the voices and thoughts from
Muse > Brain > Pen > Paper
Oh wait… That made it sound like I have voices in my head, like it’s a bad thing… Well, tough noogies. They’re there.
In the spirit of this rare extra time that I have outside of my Daily Life which has been committed to writing and eating dinner with Pilot, it occurred to me that my outlining process might be of interest to you.
<sensing you turning off your computer.> Wait! Wait! Don’t reach for that mouse!
<sensing you pausing.> What? You find the subject boring?
<placing my hand on your mouse and pulling the USB cord out.> I promise! It won’t be boring!
<nodding at your shaking head.> It will! This subject will be funny!
(I hope.)
Here’s something you should know: I’ve always been an avid note taker.
Oh sure, anything related to movie or TV, is committed to memory.
First television show to display a toilet?
Why, Leave It to Beaver, of course!
Random factoids that will get me nothing except raised eyebrows? No problemo.
The plastic band wrapped around the end of a shoelace?
It’s called an “aglet”
What’s the #1 thing a person should never do during an interview?
Flatulate.
Hey, it’s an important fact! My mother won a radio contest with that answer!
And food orders? That’s easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.
Pssht! Piece of cake, pun intended.
You might recall during one of my earlier posts that I mentioned about working (a LOT) to put myself through school from age 14 forward. Many of those positions were in the food industry. Let me put it this way:
If I’m with a group of up to 10 people (10 is my maximum), I can listen to each person place their order and recite it back to you verbatim without having written anything down.
And yes, this includes any requested “substitutions,” “add ons” or with every person talking over each other like they’re buying and selling stock as if their lives depended on it.
Yes, I’m that good.
However…
With everything else, I have the (hypothesized) memory of a goldfish, especially if it’s important or may have a drastic effect on my life. Such things as:
1. Not everyone-
<politely coughing.> aka “Boss”
–wants to hear about the funny and inappropriate thing your niece or nephew said last weekend;
2. Be sure to check your all-black outfit under bright lights to make sure any brightly-colored and patterned underwear isn’t showing before exiting the premises; or
3. That your husband went with you to the mall before you leave the parking lot.
I’ve only had issues with two of the above-listed items.
Due to this personal flaw, a deeply felt need to notate anything I wish to recall five seconds from hearing it is an important action I have to weave into my Daily and Real Life.
Now?
Under the (genius) suggestion of a fellow writer who left a comment on Facebook, she mentioned that she uses Excel (or some other worksheet or tabling program) for outlining her book.
WHAT?!
Whoever that woman was, unfortunately her name eludes me at the moment, I want to personally THANK YOU. You have saved my life.
Or, rather, my characters’ lives!
I was able to resurrect a long-dormant project due to storing my notes this way!
Each character has a tab for descriptions and character summaries. Each chapter is its own tab. It’s so easy to move ideas and notes around until I have this outline locked down. (I tend to skip hither and yon with conversations, ideas, environment concepts, etc., so having an easily flexible note-keeping device is ESSENTIAL.)
Yes. All caps. Bolded. Underlined. That’s how much this woman has saved my life.
Over time, I have found if I keep penning all of those thoughts and ideas, when I look back I have the grounds for a pretty decent story. Sometimes weaving bits and pieces-
Notice this blog’s title in there? Huh, huh? <nudge, nudge.> Didya, didya, didya?
-of my own traits (and faults) with some life experiences.
In my home life? I’m not as organized. Mostly due to space and limited time. If I had my way, I would have unlimited funds and live in Storables.
Now, thankfully due to this amazing woman, she has given me an incredible gift. The ability to ORGANIZE. Now, you may be surprised to find I am almost OCD at work. My job forces me to be as detailed and ready for anything (Mayanmageddon) as possible. Being the assistant to around 10 or 11 people will do that to you.
If you’ve never tried using Excel for note storage, I suggest giving it a go! Especially once you recognize that writing a long document-
Say, this post, perhaps?
It’s more difficult to go to an earlier thought and have to scroll through pages and pages of information. By the time you arrive at your destination, you forget what you were looking for in the first place, or you get distracted by things on the way and never fix or write down what you originally wanted.
Hmm… I’m sensing some deep (semi-deep?) thought coming up here… Yes, just maybe…
Often, we are distracted by so many things that we forget what is important, our core, our entire being for living. I believe my purpose was to be a storyteller. At least, that’s where I always end up. Writing something. Needing to write something. It’s almost uncontrollable the need to either recall a memory and share it, or jotting down a thought or two. Now with this new method, I’m even more uber-organized that I ever thought possible!
So with laptop in hand, fingers at the ready and Excel on my screen, I am ready to continue on this journey that is: the path to publication!
(Someday soon, I hope!)
<fingers crossed.>
oh brother (and sister), where art thou?
We are family! I got all my sisters (and brothers) with me!
Hidy-Ho Precious Readers! It’s been waaay too long since my last post. Please consider this my offering of the most humble of apologies!
<removes feathered hat with a flourish and leans into a deep bow of regret and sorrow.>
Well, I’ll tell you one thing. Nothing quite prepares you for a family get-together, no matter how many years you’ve been a part of that family. I observed quite an abundance of eye-opening behavior by way of some of my in-laws.
Allow me to introduce you to my brother- and sister-in-law:
And if either of them are reading this, I’m going in age-order. They’re super-competitive with each other and it’s the only way I could think of as a fair way to semi-introduce you to the world. Sorry. <shrugs.>
*Names have been changed for privacy
Brother In Law: Joker*
Joker is the oldest of the “Bacher Bunch.” 12 years older than Pilot, he is the self-proclaimed (and proud) black sheep of the family.
Although I have reason to believe he might be more like his parents than they care to admit, I’m keeping that comment to myself.
Party Animal: Joker lives up to his identifier by being a prankster and teases people relentlessly.
Even when we’ve asked him to stop.
Repeatedly.
In a voice often (wrongly) misconstrued by observers as “shouting.”
Charming: This is a term I hold especially for people who were super-popular, a jock and had arm candy for most of his/her high school career.
Basically the epitome of the type of person I strongly avoided during my high school career, due to my annoyance with them.
Don’t get me wrong, Joker and I get along fairly well. Mostly due to the fact that both of us have been way past our high school days for several years (way more for him) and we’re both in adulthood.
Our détente may also have to do with the fact I can hold my own when it comes to teasing and I don’t really take any crap from anyone. Oddly enough, now that I’m thinking about it, I think Joker respects me on some level.
That’s a creepy thought. I wonder if I should be worried about that…
It’s interesting to watch his and Pilot’s relationship change over the years. One thing to recognize is: by the time Pilot was of an age to retain firm memories, Joker was pretty much out of the house. I think Pilot was still Joker’s little buddy and they always “had each other’s back” through brotherly love, but I just don’t think there was that much of a real connection between the two until more recent years. Pilot was a band geek – the polar opposite of the Popularity Spectrum.
It bears repeating that Pilot is a drummer, which I feel gives him way more street cred than your standard French horn player or whatever.
Now that they’re both in adulthood, they have more common ground as husbands, men, and daily life struggles.
Lots of energy: Lots and lots of energy.
That’s the nice way of putting it. ADHD anyone?
Married: Cheery*. A gal in his corner, but in no way overshadowed by Joker, Cheery definitely can stand on her own two feet. I basically look at Cheery as being the mother of four boys. Good luck with that! For crying out loud, she’s the only woman I’ve ever met who can make Joker actually stop talking for a minute!
Granted it’s usually due to her palm becoming quickly plastered to Joker’s mouth. But hey, silence is silence, right?
Sister In Law: Hoops*
Now, Hoops is an interesting gal. She is 10 years older than Pilot, and has a more motherly relationship towards him.
Which, as you can imagine for having the honor of being Pilot’s first girlfriend, added to the general stress that goes along with meeting Pilot’s parents for the first time – I also had to impress his sister.
In full disclosure, I think she actually hated me when we first met. Nothing personal, I think she would’ve felt that way towards anyone who was deemed Pilot’s “First Girlfriend.” Or any girlfriend for that matter. Looking back, I’m really glad he has a close relationship with her, and I know that he will always have someone to talk to.
A very familiar tendril of jealousy over my lack of siblings is starting to form in my brain.
Super-sweet: Very naïve – much to the rest of the family’s delight and source of humor, and sometimes to my detriment. For example, a recent conversation from earlier this year:
Hoops: Where are you from again?
Me: <murmurs reply, naming a suburb north of Seattle.>
Hoops: No, I mean where were you adopted from?
Me: South Korea.
Hoops: Oh. <pauses.> So are you a Communist?
<Pilot and I stop dead in our tracks, and goggle at Hoops for 2 seconds.>
Me: <deadpanned.> What?!
Pilot: <closes eyes.> Oh geez.
Me: <draws out words.> Um… No…
Hoops: But, it’s Korea. So, that makes you a Communist, right?
Me: First of all, I’m not a Communist. I was adopted when I was six months old and raised here, so I’m no more of a Communist than you are. Plus, Communism is part of North Korea. So if I had been born there? Trust me. I wouldn’t be here now.
Hoops: <shrugs.> Oh, okay.
Pilot: <facepalm.>
Super-smart: This woman has three master’s degrees. Seriously.
It truly is a tribute to a woman who can get married, have a mortgage, raise three kids, still be a teacher and find the time to complete three master’s degrees. I have yet to obtain one.
This factoid often highlights the dichotomy between her book smarts and Hoops’ naivety. Again, much to the family’s delight and source of humor. (See above conversation above my non-Communism.)
Super-sporty: Went to college on a basketball and academic scholarship.
Sensing where the nickname came from? Hmm?
Married: Mr. Hoops*. Mr. Hoops is just that, he’s a computer teacher and a basketball coach. How did they meet? Why, playing for their respective gender’s college basketball teams, of course!
Now Joker and Hoops each have 3 children with their respective spouses. Ironically, though they’re competitive and have difficulty sharing with each other, they managed to take turns having their children.
In very rapid succession, typically within a year of the other’s relationship producing a child.
Born First – Joker’s Child #1: All Star*
This kid will run, cycle, wrestle, tackle, etc. laps around you. He is Joker’s “Mini Me” in looks, athletic ability and energy, but is much more reserved with what he says.
As Joker’s Mini-Me, trust me, no one will dispute this paternity, EVER.
Born Second (and the only girl) – Hoops’ Child #1: Red*
A sweetheart girl-next-door whose helpful and caring nature manifested itself into a pint-sized animal whisperer.
I swear, if this kid decides to be a veterinarian, the world is a better place because of it.
Born Third – Joker’s Child #2: Butters*
Now, this term of endearment is really strictly held between Pilot and myself. (And now you.) We call this guy Butters because he not only looks like Butters from South Park, he’s also sweet and innocent like Butters from South Park, often talked into or randomly becomes a part of the schemes his dad Joker or his brothers come up with.
Oh, and he wore a Spiderman outfit everyday for about a year.
Born Fourth & Fifth – identical twin boys:
Hoops’ Child #2: Chatty* (Twin 1)
Chatty is a talker. He loves to know about anything and everything, and enjoys sharing anything and everything. With everyone.
Luckily for him, his Auntie Katie loves to talk too. He definitely has met his match with me.
Hoops’ Child #3: Dreamer* (Twin 2)
Dreamer is more aloof. While equally as much of a sweetie as his twin, Dreamer tends to be more of a boy of actions rather than words.
He gives some of the biggest hugs out of all of them. Aww…
Born Sixth – Joker’s Child #3: Dancing Fool
The reason we call him Dancing Fool? Not only is Cheery a dancing queen, Dancing Fool has inherited this gene. He dances no matter if people are watching.
Actually, he dances especially if people are watching. He stole the show at our wedding at a not-so-tender age of 2, running to the dance floor and busting a move better than Usher or Justin Timberlake.
Now, Dancing Fool is a funny story. Joker and Cheery were actually done with having children. Joker had a vasectomy after Butters, but never went to his follow-up appointment. As you can imagine, Cheery was very surprised to find out she was pregnant for a third time.
Which bears the Bacher Bunch: Family Motto and crest:
ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS go to your follow-up appointment!
The reason for this family tree-in-law update? I want it to be very clear who these offspring are, and where (and who) they come from. Despite being raised by parents who represent personalities opposing as strongly as the mismatch of:
Oil and Water
Spots and Stripes
Sandpaper and Bare Ass
-we’re lucky all six kids get along swimmingly. Despite their differences, Joker and Hoops’ children have a mutual foundation of faith, “family comes first” mentalities, sports…
and one last thing…
Picture it in your mind:
Thanksgiving 2012
Post-meal discussions and board games galore. The family is really settling in for the night. The adults are talking (or rather, listening to Joker’s inebriated voice talk about something or other).
Suddenly, a tornado of six little fresh-faced children explode into the room, swirling in a mix of smiles, giggles and hugs, desperate to share their merrymaking with the adults.
Are you ready for this?
All six of these adorable, innocent little munchkins grab Joker’s phone.
A familiar, catchy techno beat begins to play.
Singing and dancing in their own field of euphoric energy, they pause long enough to strike a pose while belting out the infamous lyric:
I’m Sexy and I Know It!
Complete with their own varied, personalized motions during the reciting of:
Wiggle, Wiggle, Wiggle, Wiggle, Wiggle, Yeah!
Yup. You guessed it.
The silly, singing spawn are united by the Party Rock patrons of LMFAO.
My poor, poor mother in law.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her that shocked in all 10 years, as I did in that moment.
The only reason my mother-in-law, Honey* is even familiar with that song is because of me. Earlier in the year, I sent her the music video for I’m Sexy and I Know It as a joke via Facebook. Her response when I asked her if she had watched it?
Honey: Yes. I watched the: Whole. Thrusting. Video.
Man, I love that woman! She cracks me up! <smirks.>
So what’s the lesson here? I suppose it’s a few things, really.
1. Children are more observant that you give them credit for. None of us had any idea the kids had heard of this song, let alone have it committed to memory verbatim.
2. Music brings the world together. Even if it’s a song about men providing public hip thrusts.
And finally?
Life is too short to lack a sense of humor.
I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life until the moment those kids started singing.
Oh wait…
I’m remembering Honey’s expression now.
<wiggle wiggle.>
The day I whispered “Really?”
Nothing in life can prepare you for a giant, purple Teletubby.
So ‘tis the Turkey Season and guess what? Thanksgiving is almost here! In a mere few hours, I will be the proud owner of a turkey-stuffed belly while listening to some of my nieces and nephews probably screaming their little faces off while they play hockey with Uncle Pilot.
I know the last few posts have been a bit doom and gloom. But hey, it’s stormy, pitch black and rainy outside, ‘natch as the Seattle November is, and it was doomy-gloomy-mood-inducing weather.
But not today, Precious Readers! Today is upbeat, happy and exciting!
Picture it: A November 2009 Friday evening. Pilot and I are at home in discussion to figure out how to spend our weekend.
Channeling my inner Sophia Petrillo… Golden Girls? Anyone…? Anyone…?
Me: Grocery shopping?
Pilot: Did it earlier in the week.
Me: Friends?
Pilot: [So-and-So] are busy, [What’s His/Her Face] are out of town, and so on.
Me: Hmm… How about we go out of town?
Pilot: <perks up.> What did you have in mind?
Me: Want to go visit some old haunts?
Pilot: Sounds interesting
Me: Why not go over to Ellensburg? Visit the ol’ alma mater
Pilot: Let’s do this!
We agree to spend the day in Ellensburg, WA visiting Central Washington University. We’ll visit old hangouts and eat at some of our favorite places from our college days.
Did you know: the nice thing about Eastern Washington is, once you’re over Snoqualmie Pass, you’re really in more of a desert climate. The air is dry with 360 days of sunshine a year.
Don’t get me wrong, it can get freeze-your-ass-off cold there, but it’s always clear skies and sunny.
The next day, we hop into Grease Lightning (my white Jeep), we drive over to the other side of the state to reminisce about our past. We arrive and grab some D&M Coffee. Precious Readers, when-
I’m not accepting any “if’s” here. I’m expecting you to go someday. There is no chance for defense here. I am instructing you to go. (Just beware the rodeo and around CWU graduation-it’s a zoo during those times!) As I was saying…
-when you go to Ellensburg, be sure to grab some D&M Coffee. It is, by far, the best coffee I’ve ever had in my entire life. And that’s a die-hard Seattleite talking to you. Pilot recommends the Snickers Latte, while I tend to prefer the Milky Way Latte.
Pilot made the perfect suggestion of walking around the downtown portion. Hand in hand, we wandered up and down the various blocks of privately owned retail space. Excited for the new stores that popped up since I had graduated high school seven years prior, happy at the places that still existed which held special memories for us, and saddened by the businesses that closed down.
It’s amazing how many memories come flooding back from small instances, like a tree root that grew through the sidewalk that you trip over each time you walk on a certain block. The house that’s covered in bike reflectors in a decorative way.
You should check it out; they have a “postcard” machine that allows you to take an image of the home with you. It’s like a kid’s candy dispenser. It’s awe-inspiring and hilarious at the same time.
We got back in the car and decided to drive to one of our most prized places of the city: the water tower.
The water tower stands tall, crowning the top of an enormous hill/cliff that overlooks everything in the city. From the west you can see downtown Ellensburg, due north is CWU, east is residential area and directly at the base of the hill/cliff is the Ellensburg Rodeo arena.
Ellensburg basically lives in the base of a mountainous bowl. No matter which direction you face, the mountains are in the distance, perfectly encasing the countryside in a circle. We spent many an evening enjoying events at the rodeo for free from that spot, usually with a car-picnic of KFC.
Pilot and I parked on the hill/cliff and wandered to the edge of the hill, overlooking the city where we first met. As we maneuver counter-clockwise around the top of the hill/cliff, Pilot stops to tie his sneakers. I roll my eyes and sigh while moving on to look at the mountains in the distance. Sneakers and Pilot are a longtime bane of my existence.
Precious Readers, to know me is to understand that I am a one of those Seattleites who wears flip-flops practically year-round. My sandals are basically retired for 1.5 months, January through mid-February, only because those are the months they aren’t entirely functional.
Flip-flops rarely work on ice.
If it were up to me, our world would be covered in some kind of springy rubber or compact dirt and I would walk barefoot 24-hours a day. I love being barefoot, especially on the (clean) beach. The only time I wear close-toed shoes (and only if I’m in a meeting with external clients), is at work. Since I mostly handle data entry and internal-tools creation, I’m at my desk for most of the day, so I wear sandals to be comfortable.
I love working on the West Coast.
Pilot on the other hand, can’t stand feet in any way, shape, form or capacity. I suspect Pilot inherited the gross-out reaction to feet from his father. Actually, to this day, I don’t believe I have ever seen The Silver Fox (my father-in-law) without shoes or some other type of footwear. And he always wears socks.
By the way, I didn’t even come up with that nickname on my own. My father-in-law is called The Silver Fox at work. No joke.
Anyway, Pilot has this habit of double-knotting his shoelaces, which repeatedly fail at keeping themselves knotted.
So needless to say, having Pilot take a few moments to tend to his shoes was a regular occurrence with us while we go through our typical song-and-dance:
Pilot: Go on ahead; I’ve got to tie my shoes.
Me: <rolls eyes.> Why not just get slip on shoes or loafers?
Pilot: Because those are better for short trips or driving, not for walking around.
Me: Why not get different shoelaces made of a better material that doesn’t come undone so often?
Pilot: <waves at me> Go on ahead. I’ll be right there.
Me: You could always wear flip flops like I do.
Pilot: <thins lips into a frown.> You know I think feet are gross.
Me: <puts hands on hips.> Then why did you marry someone who would rather live life barefoot?
Pilot: <points to my feet.> Because you have cute toes. Look at them! They’re purple, or often blue, or some other random color. Doesn’t mean I like my own feet. Or others.
Me: That doesn’t make sense. How can you think my toes are cute but hate feet?
Pilot: <smirks.> Don’t judge me.
Me: How can you hate feet? That’s completely irrational.
Pilot: <waves at me again.> Go on ahead I’ll be right there.
Me: Whatever. <Continues on journey.>
Pilot: <bends to tend to his loosening sneakers.>
But back to our story…
Pilot and I are overlooking the city where we first met. Pilot stops to tie his sneakers. I rolled my eyes and sighed while moving on to look at the mountains in the distance.
Pilot: Go on ahead; I’ve got to tie my shoes.
Me: <rolls eyes.> You could always wear flip flops like I do.
Pilot: <stoops to tie his sneaker.> Go on ahead. I’ll be right there.
Not wanting to go into bickering mode because I am way too fulfilled by nostalgia overload, I sigh, turning around to let him be, while I wander to the western side of the hill/cliff and look at Downtown Ellensburg.
Pilot: Katie…
I turn around and look a back at him. Pilot is on the ground. Does he see some kind of gardener snake or something? Oh dear god, please don’t let him have found a snake. Chances are it’ll be one of those rare occurrences we find an animal and it bites us.
I squint and realize he’s kneeling on the ground with a gray box in his hand. His eyes wide and shiny as he gazes softly at me, looking slightly nervous as he opens the box.
I think to myself: He found a box? Where the heck did that come fro-…?
<ding.> Lighbulb illuminates over my head.
My eyes nearly bug out of my head.
There’s a ring in that box.
Channeling Katie MacAlister’s novels, “I goggled at him. There’s really no other way to put it. I just goggled.”
Barely able to find my voice-
For those who have yet to figure out: It is damn-near impossible to render me completely and utterly speechless.
-I barely squeak out a small, hushed voice:
Me: …really?
Pilot: <gently nods.>
I run over and throw my arms around his neck and we kiss.
Pilot: <winks.> Finally! I was wondering when you would ever suggest a trip to Eburg.
Me: <pauses.> What?
Pilot: You’re no fun to surprise. You always guess what’s going on. I had to make it seem like your idea.
Me: <frowning.> How long have you had that ring?
Pilot: A while.
Me: Explain ‘a while’.
Pilot: About a month. <pauses.>
Me: <narrows eyebrows.>
Pilot: What’s wrong?
Me: What would have happened if I hadn’t suggested this trip?
Pilot: I would have had to figure something else out.
Me: Let me get this straight. We could’ve been engaged for a month already?!
Pilot: I love you. <kisses my nose.>
Me: <scowling.> I hate you so much right now.
The world truly can stop. It’s amazing. There are moments in life when it can seem like its operating in slow motion. A basketball hanging in the air before it swishes, the pause before someone kisses you, a moment of quiet during a life-changing moment. Like this one.
After the world resumed its rotation on its axis and around the sun, I peer down at the ring in the box. I can only stare at it and nothing else.
It is not an engagement ring. It looks like a wedding band.
Confused, I ask Pilot what’s going on with the jewelry.
Pilot: It’s a “presentation ring.”
Me: What’s a presentation ring?
Pilot: It’s the ring you present that you’ll use during your wedding.
Me: I’ve never heard of such a thing.
Pilot: Oh, it’s a real thing.
Me: That doesn’t sound right.
Pilot: <stares at the ring for exactly 4 seconds.> Crap.
Me: What’s wrong?
Pilot: I knew that guy at the jewelry shop was full of it.
Me: <laughing.> It’s ok. We’ll figure something out.
Pilot: When do you want to go exchange it?
Me: <look of contrition on face.> We don’t have to exchange it, it’s just… what would I wear then?
Pilot assures me it’s OK to go back and get an actual engagement ring. We laugh recognizing we of like mind (as always), and are too excited to wait. Since we had already toured the city for the most part, both us were determined to get the ring exchanged the same day.
Not moments after making this decision, we look to the east on the hill/cliff. Something else has caught our eye.
There it stood. A six foot four, life-size, purple Teletubby.
Now, if you’ve never heard of Teletubbies, they are lowest of the low of children’s entertainment. I don’t understand any parent who subjects their kids to watch these inarticulate alien species hell bent on living under a baby sun god, who will likely grow up to be a serial killer as a result of his/her parents agreeing to let said baby work on the show. That psychedelic acid trip of a children’s program hosts one of the strangest main characters I’ve ever seen.
And they frighten the shit out of me.
There was a small group of three college students. Some guy wearing a purple Teletubby costume, complete with mascot-sized, purple Teletubby head, another guy holding some sort of fancy sound equipment and a third with a video camera.
I slowly look back at Pilot.
Me: Either they’re working on some sort of weird art project, or that guy lost a bet.
Thus ending the story of the day Pilot and I got engaged.
For those girls out there wondering what we picked, it’s a white gold, low-profile setting-
Do I really want the ring snagging all my clothes or taking out chunks of my hair? I don’t think so.
-with a band that looks like its split lengthwise. Pilot and I were both born in September, so we have the same birthstone. The gemstone is an oval, horizontally oriented, pale blue sapphire (almost looks light purple) and small diamonds on either side of the sapphire.
Looking at it, it kind of looks like a blue-eyed eyeball, (but in a really gorgeous, feminine and delicate manner).
It was unique, special. The same as our engagement experience.
Pilot: <raises eyebrows.> We really can’t have anything be normal, can we?
Me: Apparently not.
Pilot: <closes eyes.> If anyone doubts that God has a sense of humor, wait’ll they hear this one.
Me: <kisses Pilot’s frown away.> Well, at least we’ll never forget it.
By the way, we both still think a ’presentation ring’ is bullshit. Guys we’re talking to you. Don’t get sold by a salesman. GET AN ENGAGEMENT RING. Shiny, not shiny, bedecked with jewels, or simple tastes, new or antique-GET AN ENGAGEMENT RING. You will avoid confusion with your partner.
In the end, Pilot really did pick the perfect ring. It was perfect, I suspect (perhaps subconsciously?) Pilot knows I love to experience everything with him. That I would want to share that moment of finding it.
We selected the soon-to-be-permanent-fixture-to-my-hand the same way we do everything else in our relationship.
Together.
So, Precious Readers, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the story of the day Pilot and I became engaged. Nothing beats a story of a buddy-comedy/romance/road trip adventure/Freakishly huge, purple Teletubby. Am I right?
If you visit (AND LIKE!) my Facebook Author Page, you can see a posted picture of it there.
What was a tender, milestone-life-moment of yours that was randomly interrupted by a moment of someone else’s insanity? Or were you the unexpected surprise in someone’s “moment”? Would love to hear from you! Leave a comment or share a story!
Hope you have a Happy Thanksgiving!
<gobble, gobble.>
the spy who loved me – and, oh, how i do love my spies!
Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
(And, let’s face it, with romance, you never know…)
Precious Readers, I cannot begin to tell you how much it warms my heart to see people still checking out my blog, even though I may have… kinda-sorta… disappeared into a black hole the last couple of weeks.
My apologies, Precious Readers – I did not mean to neglect you.
It’s just been a crazy-busy last few weeks.
The Ugly
Pilot was in Portland for practically a week, and then I was working and subsequently went to Oregon the following weekend. I’m sad to share with you, Precious Readers, November is a tough month for me. Especially to be left alone to my own devices. Even more especially when it’s the first time Pilot and I have been separated since our wedding.
November is the same month my dad died, and it happened the day after Thanksgiving. Needless to say, as I’ve pointed out in earlier posts, I am not a fan of the holiday season.
When the hell did I get so needy? After Pilot came home, it was the middle of the week and then I left Friday morning, (yes, I used precious vacation hours to take Friday, Nov. 2nd off) to drive all the way down to Cannon Beach. He and I had less than 48 hours together upon his return, most of which I spent at my job or sleeping. Not much of a romantic reunion.
Pilot: Hey Sweetie, want to watch a movie or something?
Me: Zzz…
Pilot: Or we could turn on the Roku, see if any of our shows are on.
Me: Zzz… Njai verk nahl dah… Jnah fle muh zleen
Pilot: I know you worked all day. You must be tired. Ok, I’ll just let you sleep.
Me: Zzz…
Fresh and early-
Ok, it was 9:00am… But that’s early-ish, right?
-I picked up my friend Peace* in Lynnwood and we headed down for 3-days of fun-filled female companionship.
Wait… that didn’t sound right. Let me try that again.
Girl’s weekend!
Ah-ha! There we go!
My friend Obie-One-Pin-Obie is turning 30 later this month, but since her birthday is close to Turkey Day, she likes to celebrate it a little earlier. And so, I was to partake in a weekend of girly silliness.
I left that semi-soggy morning, ready and raring to go!
8.5 hours later, a new car part and my wallet lightened by $160 for aforementioned new car part, we finally made it to the rented house. Let’s just say not enough wine was consumed, a battery jump was necessary, and a lot of taffy purchased. No questions please.
It was a long enough weekend and my friends read this blog. I’ll write more someday in the future when it’s actually funny. Promise.
The Sunday I arrived home and crashed with Pilot-
Wait… Phrasing…
-Pilot and I vegged around the house-
Ah-ha! Again, better. See Precious Readers? I must be more diligent about my writing, otherwise my skills go to shit.
Life is busy and I wish there were 365 days of writing challenges so I become more disciplined.
The Bad
One of my favorite British authors to read is Carole Mathews. Unfortunately I tried reading Let’s Meet on Platform 8. It’s the second book in my life I had to put down. And didn’t finish.
Not going to write anymore about this because it’s not worth it.
If you want a GREAT read (one of my top 10 favorites) read Carole Matthew’s For Better, For Worse. Hilarious romantic comedy + a jewelry-eating duck. Need I say more?
The Good
Status update on writing: haven’t accomplished much. However, I am testing a new schedule of 7:30-4:30 at work, which hopefully will give me more time in the evenings.
Speaking of writing – in case you haven’t noticed yet, I am a huge fan of intrigue, suspense, thrills, chills and bumps in the night.
And considering I’m aspiring to be a romance novelist, there are two forms of bumping in the night, but that’s neither here nor there.
Since the very recent release of Skyfall it’s helped me re-tap into my love of espionage. As previously mentioned, I am a HUGE action movie fan!
During Skyfall I witnessed a pretty awesome preview for the next Die Hard film. Can’t wait! <Squee!> Also, Skyfall was wicked awesome. A must see! Despite that Daniel Craig is more notorious to me as “James Blonde” he is still quite the sight to behold.
Haven’t mentioned this much before, but I am also a HUGE spy genre fan! Mission: Impossible¸ Get Smart, Mr. & Mrs. Smith, RED, Austin Powers (yes, those are great spy movies), James Bond, The Recruit (Colin Farrell!), The Bourne Identity series, Spy, etc.
Currently I’m hooked on Gina Robinson for spy novels. She’s one of my spy novel faves. Can’t wait for Live and Let Love. She’s a Pacific Northwest author-
Support your local authors!
-and just love the way she weaves a story with hilarity! I highly recommend checking her stuff out!
What is your favorite spy book or film? What type of job would you like for espionage? The daring agent Ethan Hunt or James Bond style? The mysterious M or Q? The deadly assassin? The damsel/love interest care of Ms. Moneypenny or girl-who-gets-caught-up-in-the-mess?
*Name has been changed to protect privacy
tricked and treated! what a Halloweenie i’ve proven to be!
Can’t say I don’t live Halloween to the fullest!
The story you are about to witness is not just based-on a true story-it IS a true story! The events that take place have happened within the last 24-hour period.
Also, sorry if the post looks weird. I’m having serious-technology issues, as you’ll learn later, regarding the spacing between sections. I’ve tried everything, and after you read below, you’ll see why after four attempts to correct the spacing, I really don’t give a shit anymore.
Where to begin… So many adventures…
So, something amazing happens to Washingtonians when the fall season is upon us.
People forget how to fucking drive.
It took me 1.75 hours to commute from my apartment to Seattle today. I could have driven to Ellensburg in that amount of time. During said commute, I listened to Jackie and Bender on Kiss 106.1 follow through with “Breaking Benjamin (Not the Band)” live on the air. This man volunteered to have Nair spread on his nether regions while he bobbed for apples floating in jalapeno water. He was not allowed to have the Nair removed until all 23 apples were removed from the jalapeno water or face the consequences.
Am I the only who is still a little weirded out that Jackie and Bender still do radio together? Does anyone know if there were reasons to the divorce, or just “irreconcilable differences”?
What was the consequence, pray tell? Having a pumpkin drawn on his ass. Not a tattoo, mind you. Just a drawing.
Personally, I’d rather have someone tattoo a pumpkin on my ass while driving over bumpy gravel instead of submerging my head in jalapeno water with Nair on my lady-bits. Have you ever had Nair placed anywhere for more than 30 seconds? It hurts like a bitch. I wouldn’t recommend testing that. Really, you can get permanently scarred from that stuff.
Also during the commute, I witnessed a car get rear-ended. Considering all of these things happened within the first 2.5 hours of being awake, I should have heeded this as a warning.
Why, oh why, do I never pay attention to those types of signs? And no, this is not an Asian-driver joke. I’m actually a very good driver. I have never been in an accident where I was driving. EVER. Nor have I ever caused an accident, or near-accident. My father was a car guy, he would not have appreciated a crappy driver for a daughter.
Next up…
During an inter-office Halloween potluck, I had to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on a stranger.
No, not an “Are-you-ok-did-you-choke-on-your-spit-ha ha-that’s-funny” sort of choking. I mean, food went down this woman’s windpipe and couldn’t get air to even answer anyone.
I was amazed when all of my (and her) co-workers kept asking “Are you OK?” and proceeded to repeat said question after she kept shaking her head and pointing to her throat several times. I asked if she needed the Heimlich Maneuver. Her voice was garbled glass shards after said food was dislodged, then responded she was OK.
My co-workers and her co-workers? Just went back about their business eating lunch and asking someone else about said vacation they had just returned from.
Um… Does no one realize someone almost died just then? Were they going to wait until she was fucking blue before even thinking to call 911… or something? ANYTHING but just stand there?!
So apparently life isn’t like the movies where the nibbling patrons ask (at minimum) amongst themselves, “Gosh, I hope she’s all right,” “That was scary,” or perform some other form of acknowledgement of what just transpired.
Nope, sorry to burst your bubble folks, most people are just plain stupid.
I looked around and was baffled by this situation. Granted, I had never needed to perform such an act on anyone and didn’t know what to expect, but I certainly hadn’t expected such a non-reaction as that.
Really? I just go back to eating my lunch, sit at my desk and continue working? That’s it?
After learning her name from my office’s HR person, I emailed that woman about 20 minutes after lunch just to double-check if she was OK. Luckily she responded-
“Terribly embarrassed, but I’m OK. Thank you for your help.”
An expression I really do not wish to embody is “So sue me,” and thank, God it doesn’t sound like she does either.
The last two hours of work my email crashed. After looking into the reasons why, someone emailed me photos of the same Halloween party.
Precious Readers, I appreciate people who are internet-savvy. For those who aren’t don’t be afraid to ask questions. It will save someone (at least 2) hours of scratching their head and silently asking themselves “What the fuck?” when they think they have broken their email.
The incriminating email containing happy photos were enormous. Each email was at least 23-25 MB.
Or, in other words, a shit-ton of bytes. For non-techie types, it’s like asking for a slice of cake and receiving a wedding sculpture large enough to feed a guest list of 350 people, eat it in one sitting and expected to fit through the door.
By the way, did I mention these emails were sent to two offices? My co-workers (and choking-woman’s co-workers) are in for a tough, post-Halloween morning. And I can’t even do a mass email to warn them.
Once removing the culprits from my poor, overloaded Outlook Inbox, at least it was functioning again.
On the way home (again, in awful traffic) I was run off I-5 into the shoulder. My Jeep, Grease Lightning remains unscathed.
My sanity and sense of safety in the world, today? Eh… not so much.
But, I remain plucky as ever! Rebutting said adventures:
1) I enjoyed dressing as Red Riding Hood for office trick-or-treaters. A nearby preschool visits our office annually, in search of candy on each floor. There was a boy and girl who held each other’s hand the whole way. If the two were ever separated, they’d instantly look for the other. SO CUTE! Ah, young love.
2) Got to try Xbox Kinect for the first time. I may never be able to move my body again, but nonetheless, it was a new experience.
Nothing like watching Pilot wave his arms around like a psycho-traffic controller while trying to jump and hop at the same time.
3) I get to spend three (that’s right THREE) days in Cannon Beach, Oregon this weekend. I’m celebrating a longtime-friend, the Obi-One-Pin-Obi’s 30th Birthday Bash! (She’s a huge Star Wars fan and every time we’d go bowling there was always one, elusive pin left.) Tomorrow is my “Friday” and I plan to take full advantage of it.
Let’s just say it’s a well-earned vacation from dipshits who can’t even acknowledge that someone is choking. And I’ll admit that after today’s debacles, I’m really reconsidering making my jalapeno-cheddar cornbread for the weekend festivities.
What about you, Precious Readers? Any particularly spectacular Halloweens spring to mind? What about how you celebrate the holiday today as compared to your youth?
show me one without it. i’d bet you’re bored off your ass
The only motivator worth mentioning.
As an aspiring romance novelist, most people think our only focus is on meet-cutes with rainbows and unicorns. Ongoing stories of, “Oh my guy doesn’t like me anymore. Therefore, I hate him. Now he loves me again. Yea! [The End].”
Well, I’m here to tell you, that simply isn’t true. Those types of stories can get very taxing to a serial reader like myself. Not just taxing, boring.
As a matter of fact, I tend to be drawn more to mysteries and thrillers. Stories with a sense of danger has always been appealing. If you couldn’t tell from my previous post, I love Halloween. So, of course, some of my favorite go-to-stories have some element of a question needing to be solved, or the thrill of a good cat-and-mouse game, with a heavy dash of “I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”
For example: I’ve been hooked on ABC’s Revenge since the beginning. Now here’s a show that has some serious moments. There’s violence, conspiracy and even some espionage.
I know, I’m broaching television. I was a child of the 90’s which should equate to: grew up on MTV.
Video killed the radio star… Video killed the radio star… Ok, ok. I’m done now.
You may not think of Revenge as a romance, and you would be right. But as you may recall, romance has several subgenres. Some of its most popular subgenres are mystery, thriller, paranormal, historical, contemporary, etc.
Basically come up with any genre and add the suffix “-romance” to it, and you’re golden.
Revenge has a primary focus of drama and suspense. But look more closely, (it’s actually not that difficult, the writers aren’t exactly subtle) and you’ll notice some definite romantic elements which can have a direct-impact to our main plotline.
Representing the classic Love Triangle: Emily, Jack and Daniel.
Now, with Season 2 the writers have introduced Ashley as part of the mix. So now, it’s become a love… square?
Young Love and Coming of Age stores represented by Declan and Charlotte.
Pining for Lost Love with Victoria and the deceased David.
A Thin Line Between Love and Hate: Victoria and Conrad. (Although for most of the show it’s in the latter half of that split.)
Baby Mama Drama with Faux-Manda (Amanda) and Jack.
Wait a tick. That goes with the first one. Are we now at a love pentagon? This is starting to get messy.
And let’s not forget dear Nolan who butters both sides of the bread.
Yeah. Not touching that one with a 40-foot pole.
Ok, I can’t help myself. “That’s what she said.”
Sometimes you may find yourself asking why romance is often thrown into the mix of a non-romantic plotline, or get frustrated when love is on the line. Well, I’ll tell you exactly why romance is important to the plot of any interesting story.
Romance is an important element to any piece of writing. In real life, it can cause one to do amazing things. (Sometimes absolutely horrifying, but nonetheless amazing.) If romance can affect people all over the world, each and every day, how can you not write something without it?
We’re not talking about news articles. But look at the news: In the real world, people commit crimes of passion every day.
How many times have you watched or read something where the antagonist had some root beginning where either they had to sacrifice someone or something they love prior to becoming so antagonist-y? Not necessarily to agree with his/her actions, but at least you empathize with his/her situation. Or perhaps the hero is able to become a semi or full superhero due to either: a) finding out the one they love returns the feeling; b) finding their love interest is in danger and must rescue; or c) their love interest is in danger and hero(ine) must fight attacker back?
Noticing a theme here? Love is a powerful motivator. This is so important, I’ll say (write) it again.
LOVE IS A POWERFUL MOTIVATOR.
Yeah, I used an underline. That’s how serious I am.
For an author, romance can be an important way to develop a character. It gives the author an opportunity to show their characters as human and vulnerable.
A good example of this: Romance brings out sides that soften a tough character.
Hellooo bad boys!
Or bring a little spice to characters who have friction between them.
Think James Bond and… well, basically all Bond girls.
It can even be the reason the events of the story are happening in the first place.
A campy, more recent example: the film Dark Shadows based on the soap opera. The whole basis of that film was a curse between a witch and a man. Because he did not return her love, she cursed the man to being a vampire for the rest of his (eternal) days.
In some cases, even more dangerous than previously believed.
In Quentin Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, Shoshanna convinced her love to sacrifice themselves in a mass killing of several high-powered Nazis in revenge of the death of her family and the events occurring during WWII.
Surprise! That’s right! I LOVE action films! One of the things Pilot was very happy to discover about me, I cannot get enough action films. In fact, I’m a huge Quentin Tarantino fan.
So riddle me this: How many stories were truly entertaining without a little touch of the lovin’ stuff in there? Most hero films always have a love interest. You can’t have a coming of age story without some form of young love. Love is a good thing. Romance is a good thing. It’s a topic I’m passionate about in writing and in my real life.
Heck, a major part of my decision to go to CWU was to follow a boy I loved. And, although I did end up falling in love there, it was not with whom I intended (and VERY MUCH for the better). But nonetheless, my main motivation for gambling with my education and future was all because of a boy.
So what about you, Precious Readers? Have you ever made a life decision that was motivated by love or romance? What were some life events that were the direct result of love-motivation, or the result of a failed love? Share some of your experiences here.
grab some fruit and light it on fire! go on! it’s ok!
I was working in the lab late one night…
Well Precious Readers, it’s October. Well, it has been for several days now, but bear with me. With just this last week alone consuming 20 out of 40 hours of “strategy” meetings, I’ve become a zombie.
I’m beginning to understand why zombies crave brains, because right now mine is fried.
October holds my all-time favorite holiday: All Hallow’s Eve, aka:
HALLOWEEN!
Note the excitement here? <wink, wink.> <nudge, nudge.>
Halloween is by far the best holiday ever. There’s all the camaraderie without the 100% expectation of drunkenness that New Year’s Eve or Fourth of July holds.
Ok, Halloween is a party holiday. It just doesn’t expect the full 100% of it to be filled with drunkenness. Maybe more along the lines of 75%.
The reason this holiday is so special to me is due to a list of several reasons. Mind if I share?
It’s a less stressful holiday to get together with loved ones. Halloween is a chance for everyone to eat some regular food that doesn’t contain strange gelatinous fruit suspended in bread, and a chance to listen to the music you typically listen to all the other days of the year. As for food, because it’s a casual holiday, there’s no burden on your shoulders to purchase a better gift for your parents to prove you’re the good child versus your sibling, or to prove who can roast the better (and bigger) turkey causing a 3-day cook-off in your respective kitchens.
I don’t know about you, but I find Thanksgiving and Christmas to be the type of “family get-together” leaving me reaching for a roll of antacids. Or wine. Yeah, scratch the antacids, just pass the bottle.
It’s fun for the whole family. For those on a straight-and-narrow or who have little ones, this holiday is full of child-friendly events! You get to spend time with your children, letting them wear their favorite Spiderman/fairy princess costume without getting strange looks throughout the grocery store. Also there are corn mazes, or for the not-so-faint-of-heart, haunted corn mazes. There are great kid-friendly films like Hocus Pocus (one of my fave’s. I love Bette Midler), or It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.
Mutilating fruit is a good thing. Not a good cook? Who cares? You’re going to be hollowing out that ol’ pumpkin anyway. Unless you’re able to slice off your finger, carving pumpkins is a fun way to pass the time. Also, you get to set it on fire! Ok, not really, but glow sticks are a great alternative to open flames within the empty cavern that is your Jack-o-Lantern.
You get to know your neighbors. Halloween is the one night out of the year where you actually see your neighbor’s face (or at least part of them if they’re wearing a mask) instead of hunching over, covering your face with one hand while giving a somewhat-wave with the other and mumbling a greeting as you hurry past. In fact, not only do you get to march up their steps with confidence as your cape flutters in the autumn wind, but they have to give you candy. I really do think it might be a law.
Speaking of candy… Now my husband, Pilot is forcing me to write about this. Personally, I’m not much of a candy person. However, Pilot is a candy fiend and would consume only sugar if the human body could possibly do so without slowly killing itself from the inside. This is a holiday of FREE CANDY. If you’re able to, you could easily cover ground and make pillowcase-bank on the amount of free sucrose flying through the air.
You get to be scared shitless, and it’s OK to scream like a little girl. This is a holiday that encourages you to let your freaked-out flag fly! (Again) haunted houses, corn mazes, etc. Scary movies, monsters, chills and thrills galore! I’m personally not so much into the “gore” focus of the holiday. I prefer the more classic monsters such as Frankenstein’s monster, Dracula, mummies, other vampires, werewolves, etc. I remember reading Frankenstein and Dracula before I was 12.
And yes, I do realize how odd that sounds. What is an under 12-year-old doing reading material like that? If it makes you feel a little bit better, I was really into The Babysitter’s Club series, too. There. Better?
You get to dress up in a costume and no one thinks it’s weird. Calling someone a witch to their face is a nice thing and socially acceptable. On any other day, showing up to the office with cat ears and a tail on tends to raise some eyebrows. Costumes allow you to show another side of yourself. For instance, last year, Pilot went as Lt. Dangle from Reno 911! (Yes, if you haven’t noticed already, we have a slightly warped sense of humor.)
I’ll tell you what ladies, it takes a confident man to pull off that costume, and Pilot is almost a dead ringer for Lt. Dangle when he slips on those aviators and law-enforcement-panther shorts. By the way, he fills out those shorts quite nicely.
For singles, they can play up their naughty side and feel comfortable reaching outside of their comfort zone for the night.
Or, reaching into someone else’s, should you feel as bold to do so. (With consent, of course.)
If you hold a preference to corny humor, those of you in the land of coupledom could dress up as ketchup and mustard. Others can showcase their artistic skills.
My, that is a lovely butcher’s knife protruding from your skull. Did you ooze on the blood yourself?
The biggest reason I love this holiday is probably due to the fact my family didn’t celebrate it much, if at all. My dad was an “early to bed, early to rise” person. And no, we’re not talking about a nine at night bedtime. My dad went to bed at 7:00pm and woke up at 2:00am every day of his life from about 1966 to the end of his days. I would be on door duty (sans any type of costume) while my mom prepared for the next work day.
Now, I celebrate this day with fervor and excitement!!!
Note the three exclamation points? That’s how excited I am! (!!!)
And as an adult, I can stay up even later, let Pilot get his fill of candy (again, antacids, anyone?) and be a kid for an evening. Oh, and chocolate and wine. Did I forget to mention chocolate and wine?
So how about you, Precious Readers? What do you like about Halloween? What has been your favorite costume so far? What has been your most successful, or biggest failure of a costume? What’s your favorite candy? What was the worst treat you received when arriving at someone’s door? Did someone ever choose “trick” instead of “treat” when asked? I want to hear from YOU!
grab your rulers and whip those suckers out! it’s measuring time!
Does size really matter?
You know, there are several people out there who wonder: What’s the difference between a short story and a novella? Also, what makes a piece a novel vs. a novella? Are they the feminine and masculine versions of a written work? Or is the English vs. French version of the naming? WTF?
Let’s explore, shall we?
Believe it or not, short stories and novellas are actually different from each other. Additionally, novels and novellas are separate entities.
Unfortunately, Precious Readers, as with many things, what is the key variable that separates all three?
Drum roll please…
Length!
They say bigger is better…
Anywho…
That’s right, Precious Readers! It’s all about size: the number of words in the piece, specifically. To help, here’s a guide (from smallest to largest):
SHORT STORY
A fictional prose narrative shorter, and more focused, than a novella.
It typically is a single “episode” and often a single character.
Average length is generally only up to around 12,000 words.
NOVELLA
A fictional prose narrative often set during a brief period of time,
such as a day, week or month.
It concentrates on character study.
Average length is around 16,000-40,000 words.
NOVEL
A fictional prose narrative of considerable length.
This usually has a plot is driven and unfolds through actions,
dialogue and thoughts of varied characters or a singular character.
Average length is anywhere from 40,000-100,000+ words.
The reason I love short stories is it can allow a quick introduction to a character who will have a much larger work (novel) down the road. Short stories open up all types of possibilities. Another way to think of a short story or novella is an additional epilogue for some of your favorite characters, just to get a sneak peek at how they’re doing.
Think along the lines of a romance (of course, my go-to genre) and checking in with your hero/heroine after they ride off into the sunset. Well now what? A short story or novella allows authors to go back and visit them, perhaps during their honeymoon, an upcoming birth of their first child, etc.
Short stories and novellas also allow multiple authors to work together to create an anthology.
Excuse me, while I shift my librarian-like glasses and provide you with additional (sidebar) information:
An anthology is a published collection of poems or other pieces of writing. (This term can also be applied to a collection of musical work.)
Ahem. Now back to our topic… again.
I just finished reading an anthology called The Undead in My Bed an anthology of vampire short stories by three authors, and Seeing Double Trouble (Deadwood Shorts).
It’s always difficult to rate a book that has multiple authors. Your rating could be hindered because one short story could be amazing while another sucks. It’s a judgment call. I’m glad Goodreads allows me to go back and adjust a rating if I change my mind.
BOOK REVIEW:
The Undead in My Bed
Anthology
Katie MacAlister – Shades of Gray: I am a serial reader of KM’s stuff. Loved that Noelle finally got her Dark One! I’m a huge fan of all of the characters and it was heartbreaking to see Noelle get pushed on to each new novel without her story being resolved. Can’t be upset about it though, the muse is there when the muse is there. One hilarious scene with the ‘ghost whisperer’ had me reading it over and over, giggling like crazy! The only thing that prevents a full 5 stars is an earlier short story introducing Grayson (See Lifestyles of the Rich and Undead) wasn’t free and I had to pay for both LOTRU AND SOG. However, I did find myself “snarfing” along with her work and I can never put her stuff down!
Shoutout to Pacific Northwest authors! What up?!
Molly Harper – Undead Sublet: Oh MH, how you crack me up in the most inappropriate manner! I wish I had best friends like Jane, Andrea and Jolene. Even though this was a short story, MH really makes the reader feel that the characters are fleshed out and provides enough environmental detail without being overdone. The prank war is hilarious and makes me think of my own husband’s ongoing prank war with his brother. Plus, always a bonus when an author provides a recipe at the end! It followed a somewhat predictable formula, but had so much heart the reader is completely engaged from beginning to end! (Especially the easter eggs of the diner patrons’ romantic encounters carved into tabletops, could it be one patron is Molly Harper?) It was nice to see Jolene get a best friend since Jane and Andrea tended to view her as a little loony.
Wish I could move to Half-Moon Hollow! I love how much I actually laugh out loud from her work. I can only hope my work is as belly-laughing inducing! Oh, but beware of gift baskets…
Jessica Sims – Out With a Fang: I wasn’t familiar with JS’ works prior to this anthology, so it was great to be introduced to a new author. This story was a fun read, and brought a new twist on vampire lore and the many ways they can be destroyed. It was a little confusing hearing about newly turned vamps who had difficulty talking around them. The earlier description of the vampire fangs provided an image along the lines of walrus-length teeth, creating a comical image rather than seductive one. Unfortunately I couldn’t keep the walrus-people out of my head, even during the midway point when the teeth were described as being only 2 inches in length.
I still have thoughts of the were-jaguar being a were-jaguar/walrus. Eep!
BOOK REVIEW:
Seeing Double Trouble (Deadwood Shorts)
Ann Charles
Side Note: Yes, the cross outs are intentional. To know Ann Charles’ work is to embrace the cross outs.
I have been a huge Ann Charles fan since I read her first Deadwood series novel, Dearly Nearly Departed in Deadwood. After finishing Seeing Trouble (Deadwood Shorts) I am now ready to start on novel #3: Head Dead Case in Deadwood. It was great having more background on her protagonist, Violet Parker, and how she had cut certain people from her life. The first novel in the series didn’t go into much detail as to why these people who were significant to Violet’s life decisions were quickly crossed out of her life. The short story also provided an “author interview” of the character. I am a huge method of letting the characters be interviewed as a way of getting to know them.
Bonus! There was a separate short story thrown in called Candy Lover. Not as great, but since it was a bonus, I’ll let it slide.
What are some of your favorite anthologies? Do you prefer anthologies to focus on a form of writing (such as poetry), or for the works to have a common theme, (like the vamp theme, above)? Do you even like anthologies, or prefer singular works? Do you find short stories and novellas worth the price? Or should short stories be free? (We’ll go more in-depth on book pricing at a later time.)
thanks to the internet: compared to Pavlov, i’m a fucking genius
It has come to my attention that I’ve become a somewhat bad wife.
Due to the struggles of my Daily Life, I have allowed the Stressors of my Daily Life seep into what once was the serene calm and peace of my Real Life. Normally this wouldn’t be so bad because the rare times these occasions have occurred, the result ends with me scolding myself in my mind. Unfortunately in this case, I started doing something really unsettling to my core: I’ve been letting the Stressors interfere with my relationship with Pilot.
Now, Precious Readers, you may not be aware-
-Or, I’m going to live in denial, acting assuming blissfully that you’re unaware of the fact-
-that I’m a bit of a hot head. Believe me, Precious Readers, Pilot and I really are one of those lovey-dovey couples, as proven by earlier posts full of smoochy-kissy-such-annoying-comments-they-make-you-want-to-puke-adorableness. However, you must realize that no matter what, together or separate, Pilot and I still have one, gargantuan problem: We’re human.
We still have egos. We still have the kaleidoscope of emotions that people have. We still have our own varying levels of tempers.
My temper is significantly bigger than his. This one measuring contest with an evil prize for having the biggest one.
Unfortunately this fact is not going to remedy itself anytime soon, but not from a lack of trying. I’ve been working on this less-than-ideal aspect to my personality my whole life, and continue to work on it on a daily (sometimes minute-by-minute) basis. Regretfully, I admit to blowing up quite a few times over the last several weeks.
This fall has been difficult as Pilot was not yet hired on by a school district.
Pilot, if you’re reading this: I have full faith in -some- of the school districts and that something will come up soon.
Times are tough so that means I’m working full-time while he’s applying for positions at home. That’s right ladies of the Precious Reader brigade: I’m the sugar mama right now.
The biggest problem: the bills are stacking up higher than the Leaning Tower of Pisa and we have credit card debt. With only one of us working full-time, it’s exhausting and frustrating, making it difficult for each of us to stop ourselves from resenting the other while enduring this particular predicament.
Case in point: back to the blow ups.
While conducting my most recent tirade, a warning bell went off in my mind. A tiny stitch of a memory began pushing itself to the forefront of my brain. In the middle of a few choice words, a lightbulb went off.
I’ve lived this entire argument before.
In fact, it had been exactly one year earlier venting about the exact same topic, at the same someone with whom I should treat as my best friend and confidante. As the TV series, How I Met Your Mother would advise, I was experiencing the negative side of “Revertigo.”
Now, revertigo was a term coined by series (and I’m paraphrasing here) defined as someone who, when placed in proximity with someone from your past, reverts to their past personality traits of a previous life stage with such someone. For example: seeing a friend from high school and reverting to your teenage vocabulary and body language.
In this case, my revertigo was triggered by being placed in a very tough situation that is out of my control, and acting out. A very similar situation that presented itself in October of 2011 and October of 2010.
After recognizing the apparent anniversary of this argument, I gave myself a thorough scolding. After such scolding, I delved into the cobwebbed, dusty part of my brain to assess how I fixed this issue the last time I had to conduct an inner-attitude check. Then, a dim bulb brightened.
The Internet.
On of my favorite pass-times emerged reminding me I had conducted research on this very subject. I tore through the interwebs trying to gather the same articles that had helped me before.
You would be amazed at how many articles exist to assist with stress management and communicating with your partner. After re-reading (what was probably the third anniversary of reading) these articles, they all pretty much chalk up to the same basic principles, focusing on how to ask for things, how to reward good behavior (yes, Pavlov’s dog references are made, and the gender-stereotypical notation of wives to use sex as a reward), and the overarching point they drive home: Respect.
Mutual respect to be exact.
Check out an article written by Jodie Gould (JG) for Woman’s Day magazine that I find provides the best summary of great methods to use with your partner.
For me, first pinpointing my exact frustrations would help me apply her principles to create a happier home environment for Pilot and me.
Example Frustration For Sake Of Blog Posting This Topic: Cooking.
Typically, our routine is I do all of the cooking, Pilot does the dishes and takes out the garbage. Pilot did not cook until he met me. I’ve taught him about the kitchen over the years, and although he may not be a gourmet chef, he has reached a level where I no longer have concerns that the kitchen will catch fire, a burrito won’t explode in the microwave, and that he won’t starve when left to his own devices.
Now, I love to cook. I have no problem taking time in the evening to set up dinner when I know he has also put in an equal amount of time outside of our home contributing our combined income, and is as equally exhausted as I am.
Unfortunately, our dynamic has changed. Right now, I’m at work all day and Pilot is at home. I come home with the same exhaustion I face every other workday, but Pilot has, what I had considered, ample time to himself. I was irritated that at the end of the day, I come home (tacking on having been in an additional hour or 1.5 hours in grizzly Seattle traffic) to find that I’m going to now have to prepare dinner for both of us. From scratch.
We’ve established that I’m not a morning person, so the argument of morning prep work to save time in the evenings is out of the question, unless it’s a slow-cooker thing that I throw the kitchen sink in and come home to a good smelling meal.
JG’s first recommendation is easily applied to this situation. Be advised, Pilot and I have always made use of the words “please” and “thank you.” We were each raised by very traditional parents. Manners were a high expectation in our respective, childhood homes. We’ve always used our P’s and Q’s-
Like what I did there? A wee bit of rhyme, somewhat Dr. Suessian style?
-and applied the same manners with each other in our relationship. We also made a separate vow to always use them, even when we’re old. <shrug.> What can I say? I find good manners are important.
However, as far as task completion of any “honey do” lists are concerned, I’ve found that the use of P’s and Q’s aren’t always enough.
In 2010, I tried this method a few times and it produced about a 50% improvement. “Hmm… 50% isn’t bad. Worth pursuing,” I thought to myself.
The real key to making this method work? Touching.
No, not THAT. We’ll, at least not yet. But we’ll get to that later.
JG’s additional point of using a slight touch to your partner’s arm registered a much more comprehensive response from Pilot that my mere vocal request. When I first experimented with this, after receiving the 50% improvement results, I pushed this method even further, and it worked.
“Time to bring in the big guns, again,” I thought yesterday.
Just this morning, re-tested this method (sorry, I must have Dr. Seuss on the brain), phrasing my request from a mere “Would you mind prepping dinner a little before I get home? I’m so tired at the end of the day.” to “Would you mind prepping the vegetables for our salads tonight before I get home? It saves me time putting together dinner. That way I can come home, throw them together in a few minutes and we can spend more time enjoy dinner together.”
Not only did I receive a nod of response, I also received a watt-burning smile and an, “Of course, sweetie. That makes sense. No problem.” And what did I come home to?
Chopped and rinsed vegetables so dinner only took 10 minutes to prepare instead of 40!
VICTORY! It works! It really works! I can’t believe I stopped doing this! Must. Keep. Using. Touching. Method.
The reason for this amazing victory? I created an opportunity for him to be my hero. It may sound clichéd, but there are typically 2 different personality types in a relationship:
Partner 1: The Do-er/The Problem Solver. Recognizable by the fact that they’re the ones who struggle when you say, “I just want you to listen” and have to practically rip their own tongues out to not provide a “Well have you tried…” statement after listening to your problem. That [insert favorite annoying mechanical device here] is making a weird noise, and they leap off of their seat and go fix it and say, “Ta Da! I fixed it!”
Then there’s Partner 2: The Listener/The Nurturer. This is the partner who is good at listening, will hold your hand or give you a supportive hug while they help you figure out what you want to do, and talk it out as much as you are willing to talk it out. They will not make suggestions to resolve your problem unless truly asked for it. When stressed, Partner 2 is the one who just likes to vent and feels better after sharing their feelings, ready to move on with the day. No resolution may have been suggested during this venting.
I am nowhere near going to make a statement that this is based on gender roles, because that in itself is sexist. Don’t even get me started on how much I hate gender roles.
In this case, Pilot happens to be the Problem Solver, and I’m the Nurturer. I’m mostly all bark and no bite (unless I’m scared, then I’m the “punch attacker, then run” person). If I say, “Sweetie, not right now, but the next time you get up, would you get me a glass of water?” And I truly mean, just the next time he happens to get up. I may not even be craving water at the time, but I know I might down the road.
What can I say? I’m Type A and a planner. Those types of thoughts of needing water within the next hour come to me. Don’t judge me.
Now, one thing you should definitely know about me, if you haven’t already picked up on this, is I don’t sugarcoat things. I don’t play games. I say exactly what I mean.
Again, I don’t always mean to say things out loud, but that’s bound to happen when you’re a babbler.
Even if it’s inconvenient for him, Pilot immediately springs into action and gets me a glass of water. He didn’t have to, he could have waited. But that’s him being The Problem Solver. Over the last ten or so years of being with Pilot, I’ve learned this. And he’s learned my quirks as well.
While recalling the nuances to each of our personalities, I recognize I need to keep working on keeping my temper in check. Re-learning how to ask Pilot for things and continually reminding myself that the ‘touching’ method works for us will help prevent tirade-inducing situations, negating the need for keeping my temper in check in the first place.
Now back to the…<cough.> other subject: Rewarding good behavior.
Now, one thing that all of the articles I’ve read boiled down to, was similar to parenting methods and pet training: You need to reinforce the good behavior and reward it.
Personally, I find the comparison of my husband to a child or a puppy degrading, but hey, I didn’t write those articles.
All of the articles’ suggestions of the type of reward was a polar opposite to child rearing and pet training. You guessed it. Reward your partner with sex.
Really. That’s it. Sex.
All of the articles basically had one form or another of physical intimacy rewards, such as:
- Quantity = Quantity. Such as, however many minutes were spent on dusting is directly equal to the same number of minutes spent making out
- Certain tasks = Certain acts. Laundry folding = 10 minutes of touching, each dish washed = 1 kiss, extra bonus points (think french kissing) if the person took the time to pre-soak the dishes or did it without being asked
- Big Project = Big Bonus. Did he finally get to that garage and clean it out? Well holy smokes, you get to fulfill a certain fantasy that person has specified as a reward.
The list goes on an on of examples, but… basically they all boil down to sex.
<shrug.> I figure, whatever. The articles are what they are.
To clarify, the point of these articles are not to use sex as weapon, and I do not condone this behavior. What I mean is, I don’t believe in withholding sex as a method to get someone to do something. Creating a ” ‘No soup for you,’ until [insert task that hasn’t been completed here]!” environment is bad for any relationship. That is not the point of these suggestions.
Now I’m not going to share whether I use this method or not, because this still is the internet, and there are some things best left kept private about my relationship with Pilot.
I will, however make the statement: The suggested reward ismutually beneficial… So, what’s the harm in invoking this method into your home.
And that’s all I’m going say about that.
So what do you think: are these good suggestions? Are the experts right? These methods have worked for Pilot and me, but do they work for you? And how about you: are you the partner who is The Problem Solver or The Nurturer, or another type entirely?
Katherine Bacher 
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