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Showing posts from October, 2009

I Beg Your Pardon?

Transcript of a conversation I had with a Sweet Old Lady today at work. For this to make sense, you need to know when I get tired, my voice gets hoarse at odd moments. Sort of like a teenage boy going through the Change but without the squeaks. Today, I was tired:

Me: *sets plate of food in front of SOL* Here's your chicken pot pie. Do you need anything else right now?

Sweet Old Lady: Oh, thank you. Actually, I want to ask you a question.

Me: Sure.

Sweet Old Lady: How many times do you get mistaken for a man?

Me: *blinks for a second in silence* Um ... I don't understand.

Not So Sweet Old Lady: A man, dear. Someone of the masculine persuasion.

Me: I know what a man is.

Crossing A Line Old Lady: So? How many times?

Me: Never. *wants to ask how many times old lady gets mistaken for a jackass but really good insults are wasted on the mostly deaf*

Dancing A Jig On My Last Nerve Old Lady: Never? Oh, I can't believe that.

Me: *speaks through gritted teeth* Really? Why is that? I look like…

I Can Yell, I Can Paddle, But I Can't Do Math

10 Facts About Me As A Teenager:

1. I used to drive a black and white striped '79 Dodge Caravan to school. Orange interior. Funky transmission--had to drive with one foot on the gas at all times. If I ever got the combination of gas & brake wrong, the van would backfire--something subtle...along the lines of a sonic boom. Twice. It was the sort of vehicle that made semi truck drivers worry I might slam into them and send them flying. My friends and I called it the Land Barge and joked the military would swoop in one day and reclaim it as their secret weapon in a ground war.

It's gone now. I'm guessing Homeland Security has it as a sort of mobile bunker for the President in case things go south.

2. I was a cheerleader. For two years. By accident. No, really. I went to a small private school and was one of the only girls in junior high who didn't spend her lunch hour practicing cheers. When tryouts for the high school squad came around, none of those girls tried out. Th…

Don't Look Now, But She's Blogging Again!

1. The last two weeks were a blur.

2. I packed a new, full-time work schedule, running a two-week online query workshop, dealing with the flu (for everyone but the Scientist), and writing another 5k on Lilli's story into those two weeks.

3. Side note: Lilli's Story is now tentatively titled Casting Stones.

4. One thing I did not successfully fit into that two week framework was blogging.

5. Castigate me, attack me with slander and calumny, and smite me with a wet noodle.

6. Feel better?

7. Today I've been interviewed at MeanKitty! Stop by and say hello.

8. Starshine walked into his karate class the other day, looked at the assembled peeps, and yelled, "Greetings, Conrads!"

9. He also asked a few in-depth questions regarding the day of his birth (not at the karate class. In the car on the way home.) including such gems as "Did it hurt?" "Why?" And "Wouldn't it have been easier to just have me cut out of you?"

10. He then followed up that …

Deep Thoughts -- Or Something Sort Of Like It

Here are a few gems gleaned from conversations recently with my boys:

Scientist: You know, if you go to hell, I bet it isn't the heat that gets you. It's the humidity.

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Starshine: Hey cool! A toothpick! Now I'm all set if I get arrested.

Me: Why?

Starshine: Because I can pick the lock on my handcuffs with a toothpick and then use it as a weapon!

Me: I'm sure every cop in this county is disturbed to hear that.

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Starshine: I'm really glad you haven't been guillotined yet.

Me: That makes two of us.

Blog Topic, Blog Topic, Where Art Thou?

My hubby informed me I needed to blog again. He's absolutely right. The only problem is, between churning out Lilli's book, working, and running my online query workshop (Plus my weekly obligatory attempt to take over the world ... oh, it's going to happen. Brace yourselves, peeps.), I've been too busy to think of blog topics.

And, for once, my spawn haven't wreaked mayhem and destruction upon middle Tennessee so I can't even fall back on that for inspiration.

Plus, THANK YOU GOD, no one has recently seen fit to spit food into my gaping mouth.

So, you see the dilemma. I need to blog but I have nothing to say. I mean, I'm sure I've got plenty to say but rather than nonsensical ramblings, I'd like to present myself in a somewhat coherent fashion. Ergo, I need a topic.

Although, I've done pretty well blogging about not having a topic, yes?

Here's where you come in. Various peeps on Twitter jumped into the fray and tossed ideas my way. Some have meri…

The Grossest Thing Ever

Today at work the grossest thing ever happened to me.

I do not exaggerate.

I mean I do, but not this time.

The. Grossest. Thing. Ever.

I was leaning close to an elderly man, trying to hear what he was saying to me, when he accidentally spit food into my mouth.

He spit food into my mouth.

Yes, dear reader, I gagged out loud right there in front of him.

Also, I retched, though thankfully without results.

I then went back into the kitchen area where I proceeded to gag and retch every time I thought about it. One of my co-workers is pregnant, and just the sound of me gagging had her gagging too. Then, my manager started up and it was like a chain of dominoes.

Gagging dominoes.

I asked for peroxide, mouth wash, or at the very least, hard core bleach with which to rinse out my mouth. In the absence of those items, I settled for gargling with Coke. I've heard it eats oil and rust off a car engine. Surely it killed whatever old man germs were lingering in my mouth.

And yes, dear reader, I've bee…

All In A Day's Work

Me: Hi! Welcome to Cracker Barrel. Can I start you off with some sweet tea?

Woman: I'd like coffee. Starbucks, please.

Me: *laughs for a second before realizing woman is serious* Um. We don't have Starbuck's coffee.

Woman: But, it's my favorite!

Me: Yes. But you're in Cracker Barrel. We have Royal Cup coffee.

Woman: But I don't want Royal Cup. I want Starbucks.

Me: I realize that. But you're in CRACKER BARREL.

Woman: Well, you really should consider getting some Starbucks coffee in here. Everybody loves it.

Me: Do I really need to explain the concept of franchising to you?

Professional Critique For Hire

I'm now offering a professional critique of your first twenty-five pages! If you want the kind of feedback that will help you hone your plot, strengthen your sensory detail, flesh out your characters, edit your grammar, and streamline your pacing, this is the critique for you. Plus, I help you figure out if you've started in the right place. :)

Go here and check out the sidebar for the details. If you purchase a critique, you'll get an email from me with instructions for sending your twenty-five pages to me.

Winner of the Rewrite! Twilight Contest!

Entry #5 by Nikki is the winner! Nikki, you've won a free first chapter critique from yours truly. Please contact me via cjredwine01 (at) yahoo (dot) com for further instructions.

The top five entries qualifying for the 50 page critique drawing are:

#5 by Nikki

#7 by Joanne Huspek

#1 by Jennifer Parker

#8 by Keri Stevens

#9 by Heather Zundel

Wild Card entry picked for 50 page critique drawing: #6 by Sue Ann Mason

Tune in later this month for another contest and more chances to win a free critique!

My Life Is A Sitcom

Really. It is.

Case in point? Yesterday afternoon.

Yesterday was a big day for me. I was meeting my fabulous agent Holly Root at a downtown bookstore in the evening. Now, I've already signed on the dotted line, she has full access to this blog, and she's seen my Twitter feed. If she was going to go running in the opposite direction, she's had ample opportunity.

Still. One wants to arrive at the first meeting with one's agent with a basic resemblance to a mostly-normal, fully-functioning humanoid.

I certainly had every intention of A) Not wearing my yoga pants with the gigantic hole in the nether regions and B) Staying away from substances that cause me to be more of a lunatic than usual (caffeine, alcohol, unlimited access to Hot Tamales).

Instead, I woke up with my left eye burning. Burning. Every time I blinked. Every time I didn't blink. Burning.

Not fun.

Also, not conducive to driving. Working. Walking with any sort of depth perception. Given my already shaky hand-e…