Thursday, October 30, 2008

Never too Old

Guess who has a blog? Danielle Steel at See, we're never too old to write, blog, myspace or anything else we want, in spite of the reactions of some pundits in publishing, reactions of friends or of anyone else who want's to stop us in our tracks. I can say that because I battle my own reaction to reaching senior status. I catch myself thinking I'm way too old to do the things I want to do.

Then I hit myself up the side of the head, come to my senses and march on to work full time at the day job, write full time. paint when I can, take care of my daughter and generally have a busy life. Now if I'd just meet that partner to share the load and tell me I'm beautiful anyway...
Never mind, don't have the time to train-up a new man. Took me forty years to get the old one right. No man in his right mind would hook up with a self-centered author anyway, wouldn't want to deal with that many words flying at him.

Sunday, October 26, 2008


I went to see Ballet Oklahoma last night, actually their new name is "Oklahoma City Ballet." It was a gala, with free champagne, all kinds of souvenirs for sale, the philharmonic playing live and guest performers from all over the country. My understanding is that this is the first time in a couple of decades that guests have danced with the company. Bravo to the new guy. They even did some of the classics like parts of Swan Lake, with Blanchine choreography, another one with Petipa choreography, Le Corsair, Sleeping Beauty, Fire Bird, just glorious. Plus new numbers done with grace and humor by the new director, who is quite young to my old eyes, cute young man.

I found it interesting watching his choreography in several of the new numbers, and picking up on some signature moves of his. It's the same way you can spot Fosse moves or Tharp. My only question would be: should I be able to spot signature moves that quickly? Then again, in writing, good writers have a voice and you can recognize their style as soon as you read it. King has it, Koontz, Charlaine Harris in the Sookie Stackhouse books. If the style and voice speak to you, you read more.

Even though, classical ballet speaks louder to me than modern, I will be interested in seeing this young man's work develop. Also, a little girl a taught in Sunday school, is an apprentice for the company and had a solo. Okay, now I'm old.

Friday, October 24, 2008

Excerpts for Tabitha's Trivia Contest.

Tabitha Shay is having a trivia contest. Go to her website, to find the questions from each author. Go to the loop for excerpts containing answers. My excerpts will also be on my blog, with answers in the excerpts posted there. Several authors will have sets of questions on the site and excerpts on the loop. Answer the questions, email the answers to the authors by October 30, win many prizes, to be announced on October 31.

Excerpt 1-Fairy Dust

Fairy Dust
By Carol Shenold

I hovered three feet from the ceiling in the Herb and Fairy Gardens Shop, praying no customers came in while I calmed down my fairy dust emissions and my temper.
“Bouddicca Andraste Ryan, get your fairy ass off the ceiling and come help me. I’m dying here,.”
Seirye, a six-foot elf with white hair, and half owner of the shop, yelled at me.
I went up higher. She had no patience with my iffy hold on magicmagick, especially since we had an order from a coven for twelve flower wreaths, for a moon dance. They were due to pick up the wreaths by four, and it was already after two. It’s not my fault that I’m only half Fae and not in total control.
I was named for a great warrior queen and a godessgoddess. I felt like neither as I grabbed for my flying waist- length hair with both hands, avoiding the ceiling fan.
“You hold your skinny little horses there. I’m doing the best I can. What did you expect? Tell me a team of Darklings (Turned Fairies) from the Under is on it’s way to snatch the Titania Amulet from me— and expect me to hold my temper? Not going to happen. It’s the only thing my father left me, my one tie to the Fae World. And it’s the focus that lets me use earth magicmagick so well.”
Seirye’s laugh, a short bark, held no humor. “He didn’t leave it to you, he left it because he was in a hurry to avoid responsibility.”
I plummeted to the ground. “Ow. You don’t have to get nasty about it or diss my father.”
She turned on her heel, talking over her shoulder. “It was the best way I knew to get you down before you were caught. We have work to do.”
Elves can be so pissy. I stomped after her, making certain the front door wards were in place as I passed by. They would let people in but any magical creatures would have to leave their powers behind.
Rampaging Darklings (turned fairies) were the last thing I needed. I had an assignment this afternoon with the Paranormal Investigative Unit (PIU), to pick up an errant pixie and a date that night, my first in forever.
“Come on Fairy, get the lead out. We have wreaths to make, and I have to leave for Bonham tomorrow.”
“Bite me, Elf!” I retorted.

Excerpt 2 Fairy Dust

The thing coming at me barreled out of the trees, leaping from shadow to shadow. Its rotten-meat smell driving me back. It didn’t hesitate before it threw itself at the circle shield. Sparks flew off, crackling in the air and weakening the shield. It kept coming, like the crazy it was, slamming itself into the circle, weakening it more and more until one of the impacts threw me back, into my own circle and through it Okay, out of protection here. I threw myself over to land on my knees and came up in a crouch.
The ghoul looked around as if it couldn’t figure out where I went. When it saw me, it let out a snarl and flew toward me. I sent a stream of earth fire at his sorry ass but missed because I levitated at the precise moment I let the stream of fire loose. Ahhhhh. It always happens at the wrong time. If I ever get control of the flying thing, it would be so great. Now the darkling was truly confused and I sent another tiny but forceful fire stream toward him. This time I didn’t miss, and he burst into flame, at least his arm did. He screamed with frustration because he couldn’t see where I was, floundered around a bit, and ran back into the trees.
“Damn it.” I needed down before the hell dog came back so I could get rid of it. What if some kid came along. Not one child but several, in a group, with a leader came skipping toward the bridge.
“Go back,” I yelled loud as I could. “Hurry. Run.” The kids were chattering at the top of their lungs. The leader tried to push them faster, wanting out of the park before the sun set altogether I guessed. They didn’t hear a word I said.
Shadows crept toward them, and one shadow moved away from the others. It was back and heading straight toward the kids.
“Up here, idiot. Leave the kids alone. I’m your prey. Come on, use that one cell you have for a brain.”
“Ooph.” I dropped like a dead fairy, directly in front of the thing. I was toast.

Excerpt 1-Bloody Murder
In this excerpt, Tali Cates has gone to the county fair with Aiden Courtland, a new man in town that she met at a blood drive event earlier. The blood drive had, of course, a vampire theme, what else. She may have bitten off more than she can chew( pun intended) LOL

Excerpt 1-Bloody Murder-Book 2 in the Tali Cates mystery series

I peeked at Aiden out of the corners of my eyes. He was a little pale, vampire looking. His lips were rather rosy in comparison to his pale cheeks and dark hair, smoldering eyes. I imagined myself kissing those lips, looking into the eyes, stroking his pale skin.
“Whoa.” Something ran across the road and I swerved to avoid it, throwing Aiden against the door. “Sorry.” I’d better get my mind off him and onto the road.
The clank of metal and sound of tinny carnival music announced the fair before we parked and got out of the Cruiser. Teen screams proclaimed the rides appropriately thrilling. Cotton candy, funnel cakes, food fair scents tugged at us for attention. The intense noise level reached out to pull us into the frenetic activity, become part of the chaos.
“Let’s ride.” Aiden’s eyes took on a feverish glow as he pulled me to the faster, higher rides.
The wilder the ride, the more dangerous, the more his excitement grew. He laughed with pure joy, as if he’d never had fun in the past.
Before long, I saw the same intensity reflected in my eyes when I caught a glimpse of my reflection. I was a chicken, hated the speed and out-of-control feeling when strapped into metal machines flinging me around. And yet, with Aiden, no fear, the desire for more speed, higher altitudes, greater risk. I was immortal, unbreakable. The excitement wasn’t about the rides. It was about being near the man, touching him, clutching him for safety. Emotions, sensations coursed through me that would have left me a melting puddle if it weren’t for the desire to hang on to Aiden, to continue as my senses sharpened and heightened.
Never had I felt so alive. Not ever in my life that I could remember. Was this what drove climbers to climb mountains when they could die from the effort? On the Ferris wheel, when we stopped at the top he looked into my eyes, paralyzing me with a simple glance. He touched my cheek with his hand. Desire flooded my entire body—intense, shattering desire. I could have, would have let him do anything he wanted, in public, in the air.
“Mom! What are you doing? Come down from there. You hate heights. What are you thinking?”
My eighteen-year-old daughter, Cass, very effectively threw ice water on our fun and desire. I came to my senses, realizing my shirt had gotten pushed up so far that skin showed. I rearranged it, aware that Cass’s yell drew attention to our seat above all. Thank God, the wheel began to move and we slowly made our way toward the ground.
Cass had to learn that screaming at her mother in front of people wasn’t the best choice if she wanted to stay alive any longer.
Aiden smiled faintly and patted my hand, thinking what I’d never know. I’d certainly never see him again after this. Time had spun by in a whirl of colored lights and speed. We’d hardly talked at all, and I still knew nothing about him except that he had the power to make me do anything he wanted.
This excerpt has poor Tali dealing with her ten-year-old son’s imagination, or is it reality? In Love, Texas, you never know. Don’t forget, Bloody Murder comes out in two weeks, just time enough to read “Privy to Murder,” meet Tali, Mumsie and the boys before they have to deal with “Bloody Murder.”

Excerpt 2 Bloody Murder
“Mom. Guess what? Love used to have a vampire. It lived right here.” He plopped a musty book with a moldy-looking cover on the table, sending up a cloud of something that smelled like old books and forgotten secrets.
“What do you mean, right here? This was always our house, Sean.”
He gave me the look, the one that said, why do I put up with this idiot? “No, not here, here, I mean here in our town. We had a vampire living here a hundred years ago. The guy next door could be the same one. Maybe he’s just now come out of hiding and is trying to get back into society again so he can feed on innocents.”
“Sean, I want every comic you have, and no more movie classics for you, at least, nothing else with monsters in it. I can’t believe you. I thought we already talked about this nonsense and agreed there was no such thing. And what’s that book? If it’s what filled your head with garbage, I’ll have a talk with the librarian.”
“We talked and you said there was no such thing. I didn’t agree, I just didn’t argue. If we go over there today, in the daylight, we could find out where his coffin or plot is and stop him from moving around at night.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“The usual way. A stake through the heart or cut off his head. Either one will work on the bloodsucking undead.” The cold look in Sean’s eyes made me sick. Who was this bloodthirsty child?
“Sean. I swear, if I thought you were serious, I’d wash your mouth out with soap before I put bars on the windows and grounded you for life. You are talking about one of our neighbors. Let’s put aside the whole vampire-coffin-bloodsucker idea. You really think you could just walk into Aiden’s house, find out where he sleeps, and cut off his head?”
“But Mom, he’s not human.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute. And what if you put a stake in his heart or cut off his head, and he doesn’t explode into a bunch of dust or slime or whatever they are supposed to do? Then tell me what you are going to do? Call JT and confess?”
“Oh, sorry, JT. I thought he was a vampire so I walked in and stabbed him just in case. It was a little mistake. I won’t do it again, I promise.”
I looked at my son’s innocent face. “Honey, you are talking about playing with people’s lives here. We do not live in a movie. You cannot assume things about people because they are a little different. For all we know, Aiden’s a writer who keeps odd hours. If you jump to dangerous conclusions and spread rumors, it’s like what that preacher did in the newspaper article when he called me and Mumsie witches. And you know how you felt when the vandals wrote things on our house. You and Rusty have to put a stop to this obsession of yours.”
Sean hung his head but I wasn’t sure I’d convinced him of anything. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll invite Aiden for dinner tonight between the Duchess and Queen contests, and you can see he’s a regular person. In the meantime, I don’t want to hear any more about this stuff, or hear that you and Rusty have been gossiping.”
“Okay. I see what you mean. But look at this book. It’s old and it was written by some professor, and he really believes in vampires. He has proof and everything.”
Sean opened the book and sneezed at the dust that flew up when he turned more pages. “See this paragraph, where he describes the beast and this map? This field he talks about is right next door. He knew what he was talking about. And he talks about how they got rid of it by pouring holy water all over the place and concentrating the ground and everything.”
“The word is ‘consecrating,’ and to be holy ground, I’m pretty sure a church has to exist on the land. Sprinkling a little water won’t quite do it, but I’m not an expert. Let me see the book.”
He handed it over and sure enough the book looked old, and there was a county map that could have indicated our property. But I couldn’t find a publication date or the name of a publishing company. The author could have published it himself for all I knew. The flowery language sounded like something out of the eighteen hundreds, similar to the style Bram Stoker used in Dracula. Maybe the author had thought he was a vampire hunter.
All I could think about was that a witch-hunt could begin if rumors started. I’d like to think that in this day and age, no one would take it seriously, but stranger things had happened.
“Sean, I don’t want you to be the one starting rumors. Take this book back to the library. And you’ll see when Aiden comes over tonight, he’s no monster, has no missing reflection, he’s just our next-door neighbor.”
Now, Tali Cates and her best friend, Cherilyn have gone to the old Rayburn house and been driven inside because of storm. The storm isn’t the only scary thing in the old house. Remember to read Privy to Murder then the wait to snap up Bloody Murder on the 7th won’t seem nearly so long.

Excerpt 3 Bloody Murder Book 2 in the Tali Cates mystery series.

“Shit, shit, shit. We’re going to have a tornado, and it’s not much after noon. They’re not supposed to hit until afternoon or evening.”
“Tell that to those clouds overhead.”
I scanned the kitchen and saw a door on the opposite side from the one outside. “Quick, in here.”
“If it’s a cellar, I’m not going to be trapped inside a death trap.”
“Oh, don’t be a baby. It’s just a pantry but it should protect us.”
She pulled back. “But it’s dark and old and there’s no telling how many critters are in there. Besides, how do you know it’s a pantry?”
I shrugged and pulled open the door, then looked around for light. In the middle of the pentagram on the floor stood a large candle. Plucking that from its resting place might not be good but it was better than being in the dark. I grabbed it, attempting to ignore the energy washing through me.
We barreled through the pantry door and closed it. Now we were in the pitch dark with an unlit candle.
“It’s noon in October, not late afternoon in May,” I shouted. “We shouldn’t be having this strong a thunderstorm.”
“Did you tell that to the weather gods? I don’t think they’re playing by the rules,” Cherilyn yelled back. “How about some light?”
“Do you have a lighter or something?” An abrupt flare of light blinded me as the wick of the candle I held burst into flame. I barely managed to hold onto the wax when I jumped. Thank God I’d dropped the sack of grass at the last thunderclap or I’d have a bag of flame.
“Okay. That was just plain weird. I know you have some gifts, but lighting things with your mind?”
“It wasn’t me. Not on purpose.”
Shelves held the usual things for an abandoned house—dust, cobwebs, more dust, spiders, a discarded, dented can of corn. The hail, wind, and rain had stopped, or else we simply couldn’t hear them, which made no sense. Was this the eye of the storm? I didn’t remember that tornados had an eye; they came and went so fast.
The pantry was enormous, as were Cherilyn’s eyes. She wasn’t looking at me, but above my head somewhere.
“What? What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the wall behind me. “Look.”
I turned. Symbols covered the wall. Most pantries had shelves on at least three walls but this one was as large as a living room, and one wall was covered with hundreds of drawings crammed together, one on top of each other. They glowed with a light of their own—or took the light from the candle. I moved closer to try to identify the drawings but an immediate chill shot through me.
My hands shook, my entire body trembled, sending the candle flame jumping like a demented firefly, throwing shadows in odd shapes all over the wall. I swore the shadows moved on their own. More than anything in the world, I didn’t want to see the things that made those shadows. Fear also moved on its own, pushed into me, froze my blood, stopping all movement, including my heart. Unreasonable fear that made me want to claw my way out of the room took over.

Is it too late or too early?

I've heard people say a writer is just too old to write. Funny how that is usually applied to women writers rather than men, that would be a Hmmmm. I've also heard someone referred to as too young and lacking in life experience to write effectively. Will a sixteen-year-old produce Pulitzer prize material based on their life experiences, depends upon what their life has been like. In today's world, uncertain times, they could know more than the rest of us.

The older I get, the more I realize my tendency to sabotage myself because of my age. Okay, 66 isn't end of world, but in my head, I'm thirty. 66 would be my mother's age, my grandmother for God's sake. Let's get real. I can't be that old. I have too much left to do. The grim reaper is hanging around outside, waiting for me to drop tomorrow.

Well, guess what? Ain't happening. My heroes are women in their 60's and 90's, still going strong. Look at Gloria Steinem, Shirley McClaine, Cher. All right, all ready, I can't afford to have the work that they do. But I can look as good as I can, better yet, do things as if I was 30 or 40 and not worry so much about time. We really never know how much time we have, even when we are 21. There's always that freak possibility of something unexpected happening. So, all you writers out there, start writing that book you were always going to write. It really, truly, honestly isn't too late. If you think you should give up trying, think again. The persistent writers get published.

I do not intend to go peacefully into the night, but rather kick and scream and hang on with my fingernails. No dignified exit for this chick. I'll be sitting up in my coffin, trying to get my word count done before the end of the funeral.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Wise Fiction

I read an interesting discussion yesterday about Fictionwise, the Amazon of the E-book, and why it's better to steer all your readers to your publisher's website to buy the books. I get it. Fictionwise takes a huge chunk of the money, as does the publisher, leaving the writer with only a little. People want to know why I don't just put the books on Amazon,? Because, Amazon also takes a chunk of money and wants to control your Print on Demand choice for printers. What's a writer to do?

If, like me, your publisher is not a household word, it makes it more difficult to get people there to browse your books. Then there is marketing and showing up for chats and guest blogs and all that stuff that keeps you from getting writing done. Oh. You mean you thought you just had to write them, not sell them too. Nope. We get it all.

So, from a marketing angle, come to and buy my books. Also, I have another guest blog at That old marketing thing.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Life and Art

Is it art? I love writing but I get distracted by life. My daughter is interested in shock therapy due to depression. Remember the old Snake Pit theory? If you put a psych patient in a pit of snakes, the shock will cure the depression/psychosis. Now it's done with an electrical impulse, but is it better and does it work?

Now, do we need shock therapy when we get depressed about our writing? How would we do that? Maybe by blending genre? How do we shock our work into exciting us. How do we keep going and interest ourselves and our readers? I don't have all the answers. For me, writing what excites me works. What excites you and keeps your writing fresh so you want to continue?

Thursday, October 16, 2008

To Blog or not to Blog

Publisher's like you to have a blog if you're a writer. But, do they really sell books.?If you don't have a fan club yet, who will read the blog? I have visiters but many times no one comments so I don't know who these 3000 visitors might be.

I agreed to guest blog at Yankee Romance Reviews on Monday and next Wednesday is my twice a month blog at romance readers and writers. Will this translate into visitors her? Who knows, but I like to run my mouth and express my opinion so I'll have fun and maybe someone will fall in love with the characters in Bloody Murder. See you there.

Maybe links would help. Monday October 20, I'll be at And on Wednesday the 22nd I'll be at Come on down, comment for prizes or fun or both.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Setting the Story

First, I got words done. Yay.

Next, I read a couple of blogs by friends. One talked about settings and how to write about places you've never been. All the wisdom talks about write what you know. I do that a lot, set stories in Texas or Oklahoma. I did set one in New Orleans, but I lived there for a few months, years ago, so it did work. But my travel has been limited, Europe would be difficult, as would the tropics.

The other relived a cold, wet football game and how she used her feelings of being miserable to make a scene more believable in her book.

How do you do it? Do you go on the internet to research that exotic locale, hop on a train, interview friends.

Also, go to Tabitha so you know how to do her contest, then to the next couple of weeks and read excerpts so you can answer trivia questions and win prizes.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Wrong Clicks

Word count is going slow and now I have Museum's are Murder edits to do. This is a short Tali Cates scheduled for January. So, after this post, must get busy. But I do love, on Sunday to sit on the patio, listen to birds, journal and read the paper. Very self indulgent but I only get to do it once or twice a week. Plus, yesterday,lunch with "the girls" lots of good talk about books, TV, kids, movies, more books, more writing, browsing in a book store, eating Mexican food. Ahhhh, the joy.

It's amazing how one wrong click on the computer makes so much difference. I wondered why no one has been commenting on the blog. I evidently, when trying to prevent spam, clicked something that required membership for anyone to comments. Oooops. Not what I planned. Now that's reversed.

It's so easy with The Net to end up on sites you don't want, order what you don't want etc. Last year a friend had ordered perfume for her daughters and daughters-in-law. She ordered three, got thirty. They just kept coming, and coming, and coming, like the energizer bunny. She began dreading to even look for the mail.

What was your worst accidental click, most embarrassing or frustrating? Or are you someone who never makes mistakes or forgets to pay attention to what you are doing? Come on, spill. We won't tell.

Friday, October 10, 2008

How Safe is Safe?

As writer's we are all urged to market, market, market. But, when that little piggy goes to market will it be slaughtered. Okay, that's a little blood thirsty. But in our quest to connect with readers, do we give out too much information about ourselves and families? On blogs, chats, my space and list serves we might want to be more careful what we share in our quest for accessibility. I have a writer friend who was threatened by a "fan" when she stopped writing one mystery series to concentrate on Urban Fantasy. How scary is that?

Granted, I'm not a Stephen King, or Patricia Cornwell, being stalked by paparazzi. But you never know who will stumble upon your blog, your website or My Space page and decide they want to scare you or be your best friend or even a long lost cousin. Predators lurk on the web and they might just fall in love with that cute grand baby picture on your website.

The advice I've read says, use generic nick-names when talking about kids and grand kids, if you have a pen name, use that instead of your real name, be careful with full names, cities, locations, addresses etc. Have an email address for contact, especially if you don't have an agent or publisher who can screen mail.

I doubt that I'll be stalked, after all I'm old, fat and poor. Not a prime target. But I don't want to be the reason someone targets my kids or grand kids just because I posted a priceless Halloween picture. Now, I might be safe with pics of my furry kids, Punky and Poppi. If someone went after them, they are fast cats.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

Quick Note

Come on over to: where I have a guest blog and leave a comment so I'm not lonesome.

Also, my new release, Bloody Murder is the spotlight book on Author Island and they have cool contests, so come on down to

Laughter and other perils

The information below is totally silly and has little to do with writing, it's just fun and we all need a little fun.

Kids Are Quick
TEACHER: Maria, go to the map and find North America .
MARIA: Here it is.
TEACHER: Correct. Now class, who discovered America ?
CLASS: Maria.
TEACHER: John, why are you doing your math multiplication on the floor?
JOHN: You told me to do it without using tables. __________________________________________
TEACHER: Glenn, how do you spell 'crocodile?'
TEACHER: No, that's wrong
GLENN: Maybe it is wrong, but you asked me how I spell it.
(I Love this kid)

TEACHER: Donald, what is the chemical formula for water?
TEACHER: What are you talking about?
DONALD: Yesterday you said it's H to O.
TEACHER: Winnie, name one important thing we have today that we didn't have ten years ago. WINNIE: Me!
TEACHER: Glen, why do you always get so dirty?
GLEN: Well, I'm a lot closer to the ground than you are. _______________________________________
TEACHER: Millie, give me a sentence starting with ' I. '
MILLIE: I is..
TEACHER: No, Millie..... Always say, 'I am.'
MILLIE: All right... 'I am the ninth letter of the alphabet.' ________________________________
TEACHER: George Washington not only chopped down his father's cherry tree, but also admitted it. Now, Louie, do you know why his father didn't punish him?
LOUIS: Because George still had the axe in his hand. ______________________________________
TEACHER: Now, Simon, tell me frankly, do you say prayers before eating?
SIMON: No sir, I don't have to, my Mom is a good cook. ______________________________
TEACHER: Clyde , your composition on 'My Dog' is exactly the same as your brother's. Did you copy his?
CLYDE : No, sir. It's the same dog.
TEACHER: Harold, what do you call a person who keeps on talking when people are no longer interested?
HAROLD: A teacher

As for writing, family interference, have not met goals this week so far. Work is busy also. I'm in that cheese with that whine mode so tonight, seriously need to drink wine and work, maybe not in that order, but then again, maybe so. Bloody Murder was released yesterday. Working on the info sheet for Museums are Murder, a Tali short. Hope to be back on track by the end of the week or sooner.

Also, I saw a cool writing promt in Writer's Digest. ( You wake up in what looks like an igloo. You have nothing with you but a shirt and pants,toothbrush, a rock and a dollar bill. Someone is staring at you.) Write that scene. Share if you are willing.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Come on down to Launch Day

Join us at for Eternal Press Launch day and the launch of BLOODY MURDER. Thats right, it's out now. Also, we have contests galore, excerpt that make you want to read everything. Join in on the fun and go to to see all the fantastic new releases.

Thursday, October 2, 2008


I came close to my goal yesterday. Not as close as I'd like because I really want 1500 words, but I'll take what I can get. Some words are better than none. I put up the new meter to keep myself honest and because I'm a visual person who likes to see progress.

Also, since I can't help myself, remember "Bloody Murder" is out next Tuesday. If you haven't read "Privy to Murder" then hurry up, you'll love it and then enjoy "Bloody Murder" even more. Also, "Cry Wolf" by Patricia Briggs and "Any Doomsday" by Lori Handeland, think that's right. Both good ones.

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Tagged and Time

First, I've been tagged by my friend Ginger to tell you all six things you don't know about me.
1. I worked in a cafeteria as a kid, in Dallas, folding silverware into linen napkins.
2. When I began nursing school, hospitals still used metal bed pans, glass syringes and metal needles, all of which were cleaned, sterilized and re-used. We wrapped sterile packages in cloth and nothing much was disposable.
3. I wanted to be a ballerina up until I went to nursing school.
4. I've spoken nationally on subjects like resistant organisms, disaster management and bioterrorism.
5. I paint pastel portraits.
6. Watching the underwater scene in Aliens makes me short of breath.

Be sure and go see Ginger at and you can find out all her secrets too.

I'm starting the fast draft of FDWizard so my goal will be at least 1000 words a day, preferably 1500 so my graph will go up tomorrow. The plotting has a good start and I still need to fit in a synopsis.

I will announce the September "Bloody Murder" winner tomorrow.

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