Adverbishly Forging Ahead

Hey people-- A big thank you! to everyone who commented and emailed about the whole genre conundrum. I think my best bet is to assume the agent who prompted this overhaul is expecting to see a YA manuscript. So I'll steer it that direction, as much as my characters and the story allow, and take it from there.

I cannot tell you how lucky it is that I'm having to go through all this. Rereading the whole thing after thinking I was "all done" with it about four months ago-- lets just say--- NOT! Man, what a suck-fest! There are still lots of things I like about it, but then I keep finding this other stuff that I'm like-- wtf???? Anyway, I hesitate to say this time I'm really going to pwn it because that's apparently what I think every single time and obviously I am delusional! (But I am... gonna...)

In other SueNews my stoopid tibia fracture has been acting up again. I cracked it last year (or mebbe the year before, we're not sure since it's hurt for, like, 5 years) BUT ANYWAYS-- last year I finally got it x-rayed and my doctor was like, "omg! Your leg is like, totally about to fall off!" (ok, not really, but it was big time cracked in half). They wanted to put a rod in it, but i wasn't very into that idea, so instead opted for this space-age physical therapy treatment where a high school kid (ok, not really, but he IS young) tortured me by grinding a bunch of plexiglass objects of varying shapes all up and down my leg.

I'm still not sure if it really helped heal my leg or if I was unwittingly duped into participating in some kind of Cheney-esque homeland security torture techniques seminar-- but, my leg got better and yay-- i could run again. Now it kind of hurts because of my big race with myself last week (I totally kicked my own ass-- pwnation!). So... boo basically. I'm going to have to baby it along for a while now and AssFat will be trying to capitalize on this sitch. Guess again dude.

Oh-- speaking of fat-- after literally months of trying I think I finally succeeded in making myself sick of Trader Joe's "Lacey's cookies", so, take that moderation.

The last item involves boogers so if you're squeamish I'd stop reading now. While I was skiing today with Trusty Pam I had an incident. You should know that before the problem was discovered I skied past the whole Elk River Ski Team, giving them all a big smile and imagining how they were all probably secretly jealous of my color coordinated (for once) get up and my retro, old school ski gear.

Earlier, I'd had to blow my nose-- OK, no big deal, pretty common when you do outsidey stuff in winter, except--- In winter your face gets cold, and when that happens it sort of loses sensation little. Somehow when I blew, I managed to create some kind of snot geyser, that shot up over my sunglasses and onto my hat-- where it clung like disgusting booger linguine.

Pam finally pointed it out.

Yeah. Super Sexy.
Why, oh why?...
Oh yeah, because it's me and that's just how I roll.
Be warned-- blow with caution people!

Identity Crisis

So, today is another revising day, and once again I'm faced with uncertainty about the genre of my story.

Someone who seems to know what they're talking about recently took a peek, and she didn't think it was really all that Y.A. (young adult, 16+ readership). I'm really not sure myself. That wasn't my intention when I wrote the first draft. I was just writing. I wasn't think of genre, and I really don't care if it's Y.A. or not. I just want to know what to call it.

When Twilight came out it was super popular and it had teens and supernatural stuff in it and I went, "Oh, terrific! So does mine! I guess mine must be Y.A. too." Then as I explored this newfangled genre, I was thrilled to find out tons of grown women, just like me, were really into this kind of story. (Maybe they'd like mine too.)

Y.A. can be edgy. I'm edgy-- I love edgy. Y.A. has teen protags. Hey-- so do I! Y.A. has a teen "voice". Mah grl can talk smack with the best of them. But she has a whole lot else going on in her head, and all my other characters do too. Y.A. tends to be set in a teen "world", like high school. Umm... mine is not, at all.

I have to admit, in most of the Y.A. I've been checking out, I've missed the slightly more complex sentence structure, sophisticated vocabulary and complicated subtext. This IS NOT a slam on the genre. The stories are super imaginative, and written in a straightforward, clean style. I'm just not so sure it's where I fit anymore.

When I was a teen Y.A. didn't exist, so we just read "books". Often I'd run into words I wasn't sure of, but I'd get the context they were used in, and derive their meaning that way. If I was really intrigued, I'd go look it up. I did that when my history teacher called our vice principal an "obsequious ass". By the end of the day I knew exactly what that meant. For a while I was obsessed with the word "morsel". I guess I was weird. I took out books on abnormal psych and Thomas Edison. I read stuff I wasn't assigned, from Ray Bradbury to "Revolution for the hell of it" to Doris Lessing. I always read adult material I guess. There wasn't much being written specifically for teens.

My story has a teen protag, but doesn't take place in an exclusively teen world. All the other characters are adults. My protag has never been to high school, and has no teen friends. My story is edgy, but has some humor, even a little romance, and a lot of ghosts. I don't really care what genre it is. I wish someone could just tell me.

You're supposed to think of what section of the bookstore it would be in if you got published. All I can say is, "Fiction-- under "S" (For Seeger).

If anyone has any insight on this I'd love ot hear it.

Weird Wed-- Inner Dialog from The Last Few Days

Hey people. So here's a bit of what's been going on inside my head the past few days:

"Just keep your thumbs out and your step light and breathe you big baby.
You're not actually going to puke."

"I'm winning!"
(Yeah, I was all by myself... So?)

Entire lyrics of "Monkey Wrench" by my beloved Foo's.

"Why must pomegranites have a season, and why must it end?"

Images of Freddy Mercury in super tight white pants--
no matter how many times I shook my head.

"Stupid Wii snowboarding"

"I need to have more daring adventures, but if I went to a matinee,
I'd have to get dressed and everything."

"I have totally no art ideas. Boo"
Half a day later, head explodes because it's too full of art ideas.

"My story rocks!"
"My story sucks!"
"Nevermind, it rocks again now!"

"I wonder if my saliva has caloric content?"

"Most housework seems completely pointless."

"Should I re-up my Hollywood Video membership or just join Netflix, or just keep procrastinating and making due with what's on regular old t.v.?"

"Neil Gaiman is so cool, and I can't wait to see Coraline,
but I would not enjoy being that super famous."

"Thank God I dodged that super famousness bullet."

"I really hearted Darlene from the Roseanne show."

"Me want cookie."

Fascinating huh? And that's completely drug free people. Just imagine.
Ok. You can stop imagining now.
Stop it.

Oh, and here's some weird dollage for you too. Have at it, freaks.

"Hmmm. She looks a little worried."

"OH. Now I get it."

Thanks to Linda for agreeing to hand model for this last shot.

Feel free to share the scary insides of your heads in the comments section. See you soon people.

EDIT TO ADD:

"WEEEEEEE!" (skiing)

"Stoopid old tibia fracture."

Late Breaking Sue News... (or not)

Ok-- that was a teaser people. It's a cheap media device used to lure you in. Sorry. Now I feel obligated to rivet and amaze you.

Me and Dan's Wii competition continues. I have suddenly lost ALL my Wii mojo. I can no longer hula hoop to the left for some reason, and suddenly suck at every game. I suspect the Wii trainer is still pissed and trying to sandbag me. Amazingly my sooper hula hoop and skii jump records still stand, despite my new crappiness, and Dan's determination to unseat me.

There has been quite a bit of Sue Hefner mode happening around here (when i refuse to dress and just sit around in my robe all day writing). (I did bust out the purple cords yesterday, but otherwise my wardrobe has pretty much consisted of work-out gear, and the robe-- not at the same time.)

Dan continues to deny this is a sexy princess Leah get-up, despite the presence of my sheepskin boots. Yet oddly, he's obsessed with a new "joke", where every time the neighbors drive by (we share a driveway), he whips my robe open attempting to expose my undies.

So far they haven't driven into the stream bed, only to emerge bloody, screaming "My eyes!-- Oh God! My eyes!" So they haven't noticed.

Only a tiny bit of work has taken place in the shop since the zero degree temps returned. I know this is wimpy, but because of ventilation I have to work with the door open like four inches and it's just too freaking cold. I could, but... I'm not.

Feedburner continues to SUCK. Am considering throwing up a test pattern and whoring for comments to see if anyone is actually out there. Stay tuned.

Today cool trail boss Rich has agreed to let me test drive his pug (bike with super big, fat tires made for poor traction-- snow etc) over at the mtn bike trail. I have a new theory I might like biking in the snow. Some of you may remember my past effort in this department-- taking my target special out on the snowmobile trails in the state forest. Not recommended unless you A) Have a clue where you are, B) Know how to put your chain back on, and C) Have a general idea what the eff you're doing. Yes, fun in that thrill seeking, could actually die, only to be found next hunting season way, but... yeah. Not smart.

My revision is going strong. I can't believe how much better it's getting. I also can't believe this is probably the sixth time I've revised the whole entire thing. It doesn't resemble the first draft I started a couple years ago in any way. The story is completely different, the characters have gone through massive changes. I can't believe it.

When I started it I was really just putting one foot in front of the other, just hitting my daily word count, and not really feeling it. I'd just set aside my first "baby", the one under the bed that was more autobiographical, and knew I had to keep writing, but felt lost. Now I have this one and a bunch of another one (most of which will probably be revised away by the time I'm finished) and know for sure I'll never NOT write. It's kind of who I am now (along with the welding, biking/running/kayaking, cat wrangling, Dan wrangling, and other shenanigans.)

EDIT TO ADD:
I will not be getting a pug anytime soon people. First of all they cost about eleventy billion dollars, and it turns out you need to have some coordination (skilz) to steer them. The crazy/fearless off road bikers just make it LOOK easy. Oh well. You never know 'till you try. I still got in a nice run. Maybe I'll try riding the trail again in summer, on a normal mnt bike.

How Effing Bad Ass Is Joan Jett?

She came on the scene when I was in high school (yes, I’m ancient) and I instantly wanted to be her. My first act of self possession—whacking off my long hair and chopping it into ragged, punkish layers was an attempt to capture some of her power. Embarrassingly, I even went out and got myself a little red knock-off Les Paul. Never learned to play. Wound up selling it for rent money about a year later, but she helped me shed my fear, and all my feeble attempts to emulate her did galvanize me.

She was a hard core rocker when other female artists were pretty much exclusively pop princesses—disco queens actually (cringe). She wore black leather, and tons of black eyeliner. She didn’t slink or writhe around or wear heels. She wore Chucks and seemed to walk like an ordinary human, and just rocked your effing face off.

She was punk before Pink, and indie before it was even a word—starting her own label and putting out I love rock ‘n roll on her own when the music establishment snubbed her.

She’s fifty—and still doing her thing. Here she is on the Warped tour a couple years ago. I still want to be her dammit.

Check her out in the player, and people—you have got to shake it at some point today. It’s Friday!

Today I’m going over to the trail to get a run in if it’s packed enough so I won’t stomp a bunch of holes in it, then welding and writing. Have a good weekend!

(What the hell, scroll down and have a double dose of Joan today-- Happy Friday!)

What The Hell, Double Down.

Isn't she awesome?

Day Job- Not To Be Confused With Working For The Man...

Hey people. Some of you already know being an un-agented (so far), unpublished (yet) novelist doesn't pay too well. Like many writers I also have a day job (no, not the crime fightin', gold pants wearin', super hero gig, that's volunteer work). My day job happens to be funner that most. (Yep, know that's not a real word, just don't care) I'm an artist. I weld metal artwork.

These here are my new digs. When we moved two years ago I gave up a huge 30 x 45 shop and have been working in our driveway, weather permitting. Yeah. I live in Minnesota, so that has made my job considerably more part time since the move. But now-- yay-- year round (paid) employment once again!

This is the view from the front door.

This is the view from the back door. As you can see it's not very big, but I'm actually glad I was forced to make due with no space for the last couple of years because it made me see I didn't really need as much space as I thought. I can get by in my new little 14 x 20 shop just fine.

It's actually an old garage my husband found on the free market. It was built in 1934, and lived in Minneapolis before he disassembled it and moved it here. He's spent the last two years rebuilding it and fixing it up on weekends and after work. We did it as we could afford to, saving up for the roof, floor etc. as we went. We found windows and doors at salvage places and on Craig's and the free market. Neither of us likes to be in debt. Weird this day in age I know.

Dan may not be into my writing, or really into art even, but I don't know many husbands who would be this supportive of their wife's creative spirit. He knows I needs ta do my thing, and he helps any way he can. I'll keep him I guess.

This is my little work station, my workbench, welder, belt sander, and giant chalkboard I use for sketching ideas and tracking shows etc.

Here is some cool steel waiting to get made into something. Pretty huh?

This is my view. Not bad huh? I live basically in paradise (try not to hate me). If you click on the pic you'll see a bluff up in the woods. That's main street of the small town I live in. you'd never know it, but I can easily walk right downtown. I live down on a wedge of land along a river. Hardly anyone even knows we're down here.

This is my adorable blue toolbox.

This is all my gear.

Here's some more-- my hammer collection and all my tests from welding and blacksmithing schools.

These are my favorites though-- my hefty blue hammer and what's that other one? Come on, you know this-- yep-- my slag hammer.

This old bakery rack has been converted into my treasure trove. Want to see inside?

Okay.

This is glass I collected from busted up cars at the junk yard. It looks like jewels or magic or something to me. The cord I soak in vinegar and use to make rust patterns on the steel.

I'm also really into rocks and sticks and stuff.

Hmm, what's in these?

Oh yeah, more treasure- burnt up copper sheets and driftwood.

What's this a close-up of? That's right-- slag. As you know I spend a lot of time and effort ridding the world of this. Thank God for good music so I can bang away to the beat at least.

I did begin a project, for someone who's been waiting far longer than they should have. You'll just have to check back in to see what it turns out to be.

My shop is 99% done. there is one important kink still being worked out with ventilation. My old shop didn't have anything in place so I used to just crack a window. This left me with something pretty close to black lung disease. Now I'm healthy, but need to stay that way. We're experimenting with various fans and duct work etc, and should have that resolved pretty fast.

Have a good day. Try to shake it at some point. Yesterday my iPod was really in sync with me-- Joan Jett, The Who, Queen, Foo Fighters, Weezer, Delta Spirit, Beck... Every song seemed to be perfect. Looking forward to getting out there again today. See ya.

Weird Wed- My Wii Is Totally Mackin' On Dan, Plus, Creepy Dolls

OK People, I know you love you some creepy dolls so we'll get that out of the way first. I now have a backlog of doll disturbia, so you may want to hold off on submissions for a while. Lately I was showing some of these to my dad and making my usual inappropriate yet hilarious comments about them, and we started laughing so hard I thought for sure there was going to be some accidental peeing. I love when that happens (not peeing, but...)-- when you can't even talk and have tears running down your face and you're totally incapacitated with laughter. Me and dad can get that way once in a while. Reminds me of the old laughing in church days. Ahh memories.

Anyway-- dolls. I don't really need to tell you what's wrong with this one do I? No. No i do not.
Remember someone actually thought this was adorable. Someone made it like this. On purpose. Yeah. I think that's a poo smudge on it's right cheek.

I like to think of the girl in red as some RNC delegate and the guy with the uke looks amazingly Barack-like doesn't he? I love how irritated Nancy Regan or whoever she is looks.

Even in the doll world, sometimes first dates just don't work out. She looks like, "Um... Can someone call me a cab. (Help me!)" Not sure what's up with his hat, but he looks like some kind of baby teamster. Tune in next wed for more creepy dolls -- you freaks.


Now for a cautionary tale:

Some of you know I have a bit of a competitive streak that's often kicked into high gear by Trusty Pam. She's at least as bad as me. (Not realy sure who wins that one-- who is more comptetitive.) The other night after skiing I "won" at getting all my stuff packed into my car, but the later on, she "won" at seeding her pomegranate. Lately a competitive fire has been lit within mild mannered Dan of all people-- by our new Wii fat (oh-- I mean fit, right.)

Almost every day we hop on it at some point. My real workouts take place outside, but it is a fun gadget. Lately Dan has decided he needs to rule each and every game on there, so when I head upstairs to read he jumps on the Wii and tries to break records.

Last night he started laughing and I went out to see what was up, and the Wii was totally flirting with him! It was probably still mad at me from the other day when I was making the pointer do lewd things to his trainer, trying to get him to laugh and goof up.

It was all, "So Dan, what have you thought of Sue's posture lately?" -- and gave him several options to choose from. He picked "super elastic bubble plastic" or whatever the best choice was, well trained husband that he is.

Then it was like, "Oh really? Srsly? Because I think she's kind of a bitch."
I know!
Then it goes, "But whatever. Good for you. I'm just saying I'm here for you if you ever, you know, want to talk... or anything."

Yeah. "STEP OFF Wii FAT!"

I made him switch to the male trainer-- who is about as hot as a Ken doll btw. Actually even less. It looks like at the last second they tried to hottie him up a little by sticking a ponytail onto the back of his head. Pony tail fail.

If you have one of these, keep your eye on it.

Ladies & Gentlemen, Take My Advice...

Pull down your pants, and slide on the ice. --OK. You can leave your pants on, but anyone who hasn't gone sliding in a while, you are totally missing out dudes!

Here we have Trusty Pam, ready for action as always. Of course on her very first run she was busting out her fancy "no hands" moves. What a daredevil!

Me next! See those kids way to the left? They were awed by our sliding pwnation and after a while a couple came over to try trading sleds around and racing a little. Since they were like, 11, I kept the trash talk G rated (you're welcome, mom's of America). I'm pretty sure they thought we were "big kids" at first, but after our identity as some kind of weird hybridized adults was revealed, they didn't seem to care. Just so we were down with some slippin' slidin' action!

Remember being little and wanting someone to come pull you back up the hill? It still seems like a long way up, but I'd totally rather do this than a dumb stairmaster.


In other Sue news, Faceburner now appears to completely BLOW. I used to like going on and seeing, "huh-- someone in turkey found my blog by searching 'creepy dolls'...". Or even, "Gee, someone found my blog by searching 'woman eating doughnut', should I be worried?" It was always a kick to go on and see people were signing in from all over the world, how many from Canada, etc. Now they've converted to Google Feedburner and have decided to SUCK. You have incurred my wrath Feedburner. I'm totally breaking up with you.

Just get over me dude. Move on. Oh quit it! (I hate when they cry.)

Also- hello world, this is us--Americuh-- finally trying to pull our freeking heads out. It was so amazing to witness the inauguration speech live today. I've never experienced an emotion other than complete despair connected to a political event before. It feels good to be an Obamanation rather than just an abomination.

I've often looked at all the depressing blobs wandering glumly around Walmart, or read some idiotic conservative scree somewhere and thought, "Well, see there, people = mostly dumb, following, scared, tunnel vision, losers. We totally have the government we collectively deserve." Cheery huh? I've taken coolness where I could find it, in small helpings-- people who say "Hi" on the trails I run and bike on. People who let someone ahead of them in line. But it's been micro coolness.

Now I'm feeling hopeful on a macro level for the first time in a long time. Thanks Barack.

I'm back!

Today I'm going running again just to really show AssFat who's boss. Then I'm firing up the welder and getting to WORK!

I can't believe how long it's taken to get my shop up and running. Obviously working in the driveway hasn't been an option for months now. I promise to post some pics soon of the new digs. I have two commissions waiting (they've been waiting since-- idk-- last spring/ summer), and two shows to get ready for. The new shop is amazing-- totally good vibes.

As far as writery stuff goes-- the revision I wasn't crazy about doing at first is proving to be really transformative. Getting my mc Dianna into first person and letting her say exactly what's on her mind has raised the book to a whole new level, and having to justify my Dave love has made me see some things about my storyline needed beefing up. Stakes had to be raised a bit. I really think when I'm done this will be a much better novel than it was, and that surprises and delights me. I'm really excited now, about the changes I'm making.

It's already almost 10 a.m. and I haven't done jack today. I Stayed up really late last night finishing "Cracked Up To Be" by Courtney Summers. This book is really good. If you liked "Girl Interrupted" you'd like it. The tone is really edgy-- so of course I'm totally down with it. Check it out if you want to see what kind of YA I want to be a part of.

Sue - 1, AssFat - 0

Went for my first run in ages today, and wow- what an ass-kicker! Funny how when you take like, a month off, running is... um... lots harder! Last time I was out I ran the whole course (7.5 miles) and today all I could handle was about 3 miles. Killer! But I did it, and it was awesome to get back in the woods.

I had lots of company though. The crazy and fearless mountain bikers whose trail I run were having a race today! Yes-- I live in MN, and yes, there's tons of snow, but that apparently doesn't stop these guys and gals (there was one girl-- from France, yay cool chix doing cool stuff!).

I was careful to leap aside, like an agile gazelle (not!-- picture more of a middle-aged scrambling clamour) whenever I met a bike. I hate to think I messed-up anyone's time or anything. I don't think I did. The guy who seems to be kind of in charge of the trail, maintaining it etc., recognized my kitty hat and said hi. Everyone seemed really cool and friendly actually. There was a big bonfire and people were hanging out waiting for racers to finish so I hung out too for a while.

I love discovering little secret societies like that. I'm not sure I'll ever be gutsy enough to ride this trail myself-- in winter especially! -- but I do like running over there and like seeing the bikes and riders. Maybe this spring I'll man-up (or grrl-up) and make it my new "thing". Got to keep pushing out of the box y'know.

Well, back to revising. Enjoy the heat wave (+20) Minnesotans!

Revision Woes- OR I Refuse To Break-Up With Dave!

Ok people-- This is a post about writery stuff, so if you are just a regular Joe-- Oh right, like any regular people even look at this-- never mind.

Anyway-- I'm now in revision mode. I have thought I finished this novel so many times. I can't even remember how many times I've smugly closed the file, sighed contentedly and thought- "Yeah, this thing effing kills now. It is perfect!" -- And of course later wonder what kind of drugs I was on because of course whatever my latest brain storm is is the total missing link, the thing that will really polish it and how could I have not seen it before?! After this last little tweak it will so rock. HA!

So that brings us to now. I had this agent interested enough to ask for more, and she had it forevaaaaaarrrrrrr. I know lead times are suckily long in this here biz, but even she admits she had it for a ridonkulously long time. I actually had one of these attacks of enlightenment while she had it and asked her if I could pull and revise it. She let me.

When she finally got back to me she liked it, but thought it would be better if the whole thing were changed to 1st person. Many parts of the book do work really well that way. I noticed my 3rd person narrator got pretty voicey and subjective whenever my MC was around anyway, so converting that stuff to 1st is pretty natural. BUT-- there are lots of chapters where my MC isn't even present-- that are totally nesessary to the plot. Also, my book only narrowly misses having two MC's. Dave is the second protag. I have the total hots for him and his storyline is completely entangled with Dianna's (my MC). I've been over and over his stuff, and if I change everything over to 1st I'll really lose more of him than I'm willing to give up.

For now I'm going ahead and changing the POV as much as I can, but I think I'm going to wind up with POV's switching at chapter breaks-- some will be Dinna's POV and some will have to be 3rd omniscient. I'll have to see how it all hangs together when I'm done. This is a major effing overhaul. It's making me love my MC more, which is pretty vital. If I can just make it flow organically maybe I'll love it more than ever when I'm done? I hope?

If anyone has any thoughts I'd love to hear them.

Fav Lyrics Fri-- BlitzenTrapper - Furr

Hey people, and welcome to another Fav Lyrics Friday. I’m trying to think of another name for Fridays that aren’t exclusively lyrics-centric because sometimes I want to just feature cool music. So the floor is open for suggestions. “Get your freak on Fridays?”
Maybe just “Fav Music Fridays.”

Anyway, here we have awesome Blitzen Trapper again. I’ve had this very song on a while back, but it is still a super cool song, and now they’ve made this delightfully homey video to go with it. I LOVE this lo-fi type stuff because it fires up my creative brain. This is a very approachable medium/technique I can imagine employing myself sometime. Could be a great way to make a book trailer, no?

Kick back, enjoy, and fantasize about running off to live with the wolves-- until your true love stumbles along anyway. Here are the lyrics:

Furr
By Blitzen Trapper

Yeah, when I was only 17,
I could hear the angels whispering
So I droned into the words and
wondered aimlessly about till
I heard my mother shouting through the fog
It turned out to be the howling of a dog
or a wolf to be exact.
The sound sent shivers down my back
but I was drawn into the pack.
And before long, they allowed me
to join in and sing their song.
So from the cliffs and highest hill, yeah
we would gladly get our fill,
howling endlessly and shrilly at the dawn.
And I lost the taste for judging right from wrong.
For my flesh had turned to fur, yeah
And my thoughts, they surely were turned to
instinct and obedience to God.

You can wear your fur
like the river on fire.
But you better be sure
if you're makin' God a liar.
I'm a rattlesnake, babe,
I'm like fuel on fire.
So if you're gonna' get made,
don't be afraid of what you've learned.

On the day that I turned 23,
I was curled up underneath a dogwood tree.
When suddenly a girl
with skin the color of a pearl,
wandered aimlessly,
but she didn't seem to see.
She was listenin' for the angels just like me.
So I stood and looked about.
I brushed the leaves off of my snout.
And then I heard my mother shouting through the trees.
You should have seen that girl go shaky at the knees.
So I took her by the arm
we settled down upon a farm.
And raised our children up as
gently as you please.

And now my fur has turned to skin.
And I've been quickly ushered in
to a world that I confess I do not know.
But I still dream of running careless through the snow.
An' through the howlin' winds that blow,
across the ancient distant flow,
it fill our bodies up like water till we know.

You can wear your fur
like the river on fire.
But you better be sure
if you're makin' God a liar.
I'm a rattlesnake, babe,
I'm like fuel on fire.
So if you're gonna' get made,
don't be afraid of what you've learned.

Skip Day- BooOO0Ooowp! Boo0O0Ooowp!

SHH! You'll totally get us busted man-- chill!

Today is a skip day! Trusty Pam is ditching work (Ok, they don't actually care-- it's slow, but go with it) and I have SO much work to do-- but screw it. Skip - Skip - Skip - Skip!

We're going to (insert echo-y announcer voice) The MALL Of AmERicAH! It's like fifteen below zero today, and the mall is 50 miles from my house, but the mall has Auntie Annie's pretzels darn it, and we've been fantasizing about getting some for nearly a year. So we're going to go to the mall and get cinnamon pretzel sticks and walk around.

We'll shut down all the kiosk lotion rubbers who say, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?" -- extending their lotion pumps at us. "NO," we'll snap, dismissing them with out mighty palms of "No." Negatory, mornin' glory.

We'll wear tons of black eyeliner and sneer at the mall cops-- "Back off fuzz," and lounge broodily on planters and benches slurping on enormous soft drinks, and chain smoke. This is all assuming we find a time machine somewhere. Otherwise we'll probably just get the pretzels, have lunch, walk around the mall a few times, and head home.

But we won't be working.

I know, try not to hate us too much. We're doing this for you, general public. If you are a criminal and plan on going to the mall today-- consider yourself warned. (Need I remind you of the hands of fury? The power pants? Pam's terrifying super strength?) Also, if you are a giant rule follower who's never skipped before, you're welcome for the vicarious thrill. (Also, if you ARE a giant rule follower, you should really work on that.) Think of us as your personal bad-ass role models. Yeah, the mall, pretzels... what could be more edge?

Weird Wed-- It's Now A Cult

GOLD PANTS YO! Catch the feevah!

Today I presented Trusty Pam with her very own pair of power pants. This is so perfect since just a couple of weeks ago we were discussing how we should totally sign up for karate classes and get black-belts to further our super hero crime fightin' careers. These pants alone could apprehend a perp. This is our "Charlie's angels" pose. Sweet huh?

Here something went awry. Pam was supposed to be pretending to kick my butt, but at the last second started to fall over. I'm still in "Oh lord-- she's kicking my ass mode", but it looks kind of like I'm having my own private revival meeting that has frightened Pam into fleeing the scene.

Here I'm supposed to be kicking Pam. She looks terrified huh? Yeah, good acting there Pam. I guess if silent, still frame movies (but they'd probably be called something else-- stillies maybe?) ever become all the rage, we know which of the two of us will be whisked away to Hollywood-- ME that's who.

Now the time consuming task of retrofitting all our other pants with Velcro so they can be easily torn off if a crime wave busts out in our vicinity. Whew! I hope you all appreciate this-- general public.

Take-Back Tuesday

Yesterday I broke-up with my Christmas tree, dismembered it, and hid it in the attic. Man, break-ups are a bitch!

I also did mega loads of laundry, and dismantled the cat obstacle course on my kitchen counter. On t.v. right now some lady is showing how to clean a coffee mug with salt and a lemon, among other handy household tips. Clearly we are from different planets.

Someone's mom I know (ok me) irons sheets. All my friends mom's are completely psycho about cleaning. It's as if they are anticipating their homes one day being crime scenes and they are trying to make things as easy as possible for the crime lab people. "Amazingly, this scene contains no trace elements of anything at all not pertaining to the case."

I often suspect this is a result of religiosity run amok. Who hasn't heard the old cleanliness/ Godliness shpeel? I sometimes think they picture Jesus standing around with his hands on his hips in his very own pair of yellow rubber gloves inspecting their work approvingly going, "Hey, nice shine on that faucet! You are SO getting in."

Luckily for me, I happen to know Jesus is totally down with my casual view of cleaning. Really. He just fist bumped me yesterday when I was all, "This cleaning entirely BLOWS." Then we rolled a fatty and sat around laughing about duck billed platypus's and stuff. Ok, not really. (But he would totally fist bump all that.)

Today though, today -- I get to do stuff I want to do. So I'm going to work on some revisions for Crimson Cord (book 1), and go out in the 25 below zero cold (you heard right people-- eyeball freezingly cold today) and go out to my new ultra spiffy shop (pics soon to come) and finish putting all my tools and stuff away and organizing.

Later, trusty Pam is coming over and we're going to play on my new Wii fit. This is really fun. Sis got it for me and Dan for our birthdays-- which aren't until June, but we all wanted to play on it now. I was skeptical and used to call it Wii fat-- but it is pretty cool. The best part is it's almost Trusty Pam's birthday and I already have her gift. She will be so psyched to receive her very own pair of gold pants!

I am so hoping to post pics of this later-- if she doesn't chase me down and destroy my camera.

There is no way I can catch up so I'm just starting here.

I wanted to do a big retrospective New Years post talking about goals for the year etc. I wanted to do a post about the blog awards and all the super cool blogs I'm now addicted to. I wanted to do a funny post about the kids visit complete with pics. But I can't. Too much time has gone by and I'm just too wiped-out and OVER the last few weeks, and ready to move on.

Here are the highlights:

-Heads-up everyone! It's 2009! (Yeah, but by week 3 everyone is pretty much done examining their lives and just getting on with them.)

-I look at tons of cool blogs every day. Most of them are listed on my blogroll (bottom right of actual blog). There are hilarious ones (fuck you penguin, fail blog, bloggess, cake wrecks) odd ones (beard revue, failed bands of oklahoma, cake wrecks) one that's just cute (cute overload), and lots by other writers, artists & agents -- one of whom recently hit the road by herself for a two month solo seat of her pants road trip (jamie's giant shop hop). If you are going to waste time on the internet anyway, (and who are you kidding? You KNOW you are.) you may as well waste it wisely. Check them out!

-Kid trip high points--
Megan- "*&%$@#!"
Sis- "That's not how little princesses talk! You know better than that!"
Jaden- "Yeah, that's how mommies talk."
Me and the girl had a few good talks. I taught her "crap-o-la", and lectured her about talking like a snotty teenager already. (She's only seven. Save some tude for when you'll need it kid.) Me and the boy -- still not a fan of all his spoiled brattiness. He is only 4. He'll either grow out of it or become a giant, spoiled, man baby. Jury still out. Me and sis-- as seen in the power pants episode, hilarity ensued.

In other Sue news-- well, there really isn't any because I've had a giant cold (thanks toddler boogers) and been totally sucked down the family hole lately to the point where I haven't really been connected to my own life since before Christmas. I love them and all, and love seeing them, but my folks have been having some health stuff and there's just been a lot going on.

For some reason when I'm around them I just become whoever I am in relation to all of them-- a daughter, a sister, an aunt, etc, and that is so far from how I self-identify I start to feel like I'm disappearing (especially when things prevent me from running etc and I'm without any release valve). I know-- touchy, pain-in-the-ass, creative type whining-- but there it is.

Today will be spent doing the waist-high pile of laundry in my room, grocery shopping, and otherwise reestablishing "normal" around here. There needs to also be massive jamming out. It's been WAY too long since anything has been shaken, despite the gold pants episode. Tomorrow I get back in the writing & art saddle and I CAN'T WAIT!

Weird Wed-- Power Pants Edition

Look at Mah Seestah people. She can't stop looking at the Power Pants-- or maybe my awesome hands of fury dance. It's hard to say.

These were on sale at Target for six bucks. I dared her to buy them, joking of course. When she whipped them out in the dressing room and modeled them for me we both came dangerously close to peeing our pants-- well, she was in the gold numbers-- right in the middle of Target. We had to have them. Be warned if you want a pair of your own. They may have already been pee'd in a tiny bit by someone who didn't follow through and purchase them.


I defy you to look away people. You can't can you? No. You can not.
Neither could we. See me not being able to tear my eyes from the awesome Gold Pants Of Pwnation?

This looks like I'm stepping into a major backhand, but really we're just exhibiting our ninja like fightin' moves. Good hands of fury sis!

I go for full on aggro mode. Kate's strategy appears to be to fool her opponent with a friendly, goofy grin before she clobbers them.

Yeah. Don't mess with us. The Power Pants increase our might ten-fold.

My fearless protege Megan had to leap into the fray and show off her dismount pose.

Oh-- But they're not just for crime fightin'. Oh no. The Power Pants are also dance pants. Here we have the lawn sprinkler.

You don't stand a chance in these dance pants. Give it up yo!

In other Sue news: If you didn't check out the comments thread from the last post, the agent known for the last six months or so as AgentCoolAssChicka has finally gotten back to me. It was a rejection-- BUT-- I can't really post all about how she broke up with me and was all, "it's not you it's me-- well, actually it IS you..." because, well, it might not be over. She actually gave me some really helpful suggestions that she felt would make my story more saleable. She did say she liked my writing, and my voice, and my main character "very much". She said if I felt like doing any of the revisions she suggested she'd like to see it again. So, yes, I'm back to revising. It feels like something may be starting to happen here. Stay tuned.

Taking Stock

A few nights ago I had this dream where I landed an agent, who immediately found a publisher interested in my work.

Overnight, it seemed, I went from doing my thing privately to having deadlines and people reviewing my novels. It felt strange because the only thing that had changed was that now people were aware of me-- but it changed everything. Then it devolved into this high speed chase with me driving this insane criminal woman around who was trying to push me out of the moving truck. I had to steer while hanging onto the seat belt with my free hand and fight her off. Whichever of us admitted we had to go to the bathroom first would "lose". (?)

Last year that was one of my goals-- get an agent, get published-- not the truck-chase smackdown bladder battle. Now that year has come and gone and I still don't have an agent, but I can't call it a total fail. I still believe my author life exists in my future, bound to me by invisible strings I either reel in or play out by my actions-- but it's there. It's a thing.

I'm actually working on my third novel. The first has been shelved. It's a cool concept I may return to someday, but it was my first attempt. I learned a lot, but my work wasn't ready for prime time. My second is the one I'm querying later this month, the one I have a partial and a full out on. (writer speak for "two different agents are looking at")

Last March I stayed up late one night editing some final touches. ("final"-- HA!) I was working and saving the whole thing on Mac's online server, thinking that was the safest bet. When I opened my file the next morning it was empty. The server had eaten my whole novel, and I had no back-up anywhere else.

I spent the whole day in near hysterics-- on the phone with mac people, at the mac store, online with the server people who work in an underground bunker somewhere without phone service (so they say). In the end all I could do was scrawl a bunch of crappy notes, trying to remember the story progression as best I could, patch together a rough chapter list, and hope they could get it back. They said they'd get back to me but it may take up to six weeks, and they couldn't promise they could restore any of my files.

They next day I began writing #3, the one I'm still finishing today. That's when I think I really became a writer. I'd maybe lost over a year's work, and my response was to begin my next project, because writers write. Since then I did get my novel back, and it's been revised even more. In fact even now I'm making little changes here and there. I've learned so much in the last year-- "back-the-eff-up-fool!" being just one. I think I'm a better writer, and I know nothing will deter me from continuing to try.

I didn't land an agent in 08, but maybe I reeled in enough line that it will happen in 09. Maybe 08 was a laying track year. My big goal for 09 is still to get an agent and get published, to embark on that life, and also to help my creativity flourish in any way it needs to, to give it room, and follow it and trust it. I think this will be a good year.