Wednesday, for possibly the first time since my first conference in 2000, I had nothing official scheduled. Usually I do the Chapter President's Retreat (called something else this year, I forget what) but I'm not leadership anymore, so I skipped that and spent the whole day sightseeing.
We went down to Fisherman's Wharf, saw the sea lions, walked the pier, and took pictures of Alcatraz. We were supposed to go to Alcatraz, but they sold out long before we tried to get ferry tickets, so that didn't work out. Majorly bummed.
But I got to hang out with people I see once a year, or once every two years, and it was delightful. We also took a trolley tour of the city, which was awesome. We saw the crookedest street and Nob Hill and just some great views and neighborhoods. I took lots of cool pictures and will post them when I get home.
I got a little writing and editing done both Tuesday and Wednesday, which keeps me (kind of) in the weekly challenge. OH! And I saw tons of people I love to see every year, like Trish Milburn and Sherry Davis and her friend Mary who I always recognize and whose last name I also always fail to remember. I won't name more because my brain isn't firing on all cylinders and I'll miss some and insult people. At least this way they can be insulted by my deliberate decision not to list more names, not by an inadvertent and therefore more painful forgetfulness.
Wednesday is also known as The Day I Blew My Budget. Sightseeing and souvenir-buying and an expensive but wonderful lunch plus the way-too-much I spent at the Literacy Signing were the culprits. But hey, the 520 authors at the signing made over $58,000 for charity in two hours, so that's pretty impressive. And I was a great part of it.
Finished the day at a wine party in Cathy McDavid's room. Met some more new people. Yawned a lot, irritating Cathy during her stories. Went to bed at a decent(!) hour.
Thursday, Day 3, is the official start to the conference. Stay tuned!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
RWA Day 1
Day 1 wasn't really RWA. Day 1 was flying, and sitting, and flying, and running through the airport, dragging Lisa behind me, because of being this > < close to departure time for our last leg to Oakland. Which was late. So, not unexpectedly when you have two layovers, we got to the hotel well after 11:00 p.m. We didn't sleep until 4:00 a.m. Eastern. Yay, good start against the jetlag!
Our flight wasn't supposed to be so long. When we booked them, she was flying from Boston to Atlanta, where I'd join her for the flight to Oakland. But Delta added a stop in Salt Lake City.
And let me tell you, I am so glad they did!
Usually when I fly somewhere, it's on the east coast. I haven't been to California since I was 9, and haven't been any further west than Dallas since then, either. So while there are some minor differences when I fly over terrain--Texas is flatter, Georgia has bigger driveways--everything looks pretty much the same.
That is SO not true of Utah!
The mountains, and plateaus, and lakes, and whatever those dark spots are that are evenly spaced between rises and look like they have roads to them and are either small bodies of water or gigantic homes...those are all cool enough. But MAN, is the area around Salt Lake City gorgeous! It's like a different planet, one of those fantasy concoctions, with mountains right up against the lake, and salt everywhere, and even the more familiar agrarian areas laid out in humongous squares instead of little plots.
As we circled for our approach, the sun dipped below the cloud cover and shone brilliantly red, reflected on the lake, with enough beauty to crack even my unsentimental, icy heart. I got out my camera--and immediately dropped it, causing the beauty to become second only to my fear that the camera was sliding all over the plane every time it banked. (It didn't, but I lamented every minute I couldn't take pictures of gorgeousness).
I fly through LA instead of Salt Lake City on the way home. Yay.
We took a cab from Oakland's airport to SF. I'm not really a city person, and tend to think they all look alike. As we drove past downtown Oakland, the cabbie pointed it out like a really interesting landmark. I was "eh." It looked just like Dallas.
But San Francisco is definitely unique (that's the main reason I wanted to come!). As you cross the Bay Bridge at night, you can see the crookedy, hilly streets illuminated on either side of the (okay, common-looking) downtown area. The view didn't last long, a benefit of coming in so damned late--traffic was awesomely light.
So Day 1, I saw Lisa Mondello and new author Tracy Madison (the cause of our very late bedtime) and did nothing else.
Stay tuned for Day 2's much more interesting awesomeness!
Our flight wasn't supposed to be so long. When we booked them, she was flying from Boston to Atlanta, where I'd join her for the flight to Oakland. But Delta added a stop in Salt Lake City.
And let me tell you, I am so glad they did!
Usually when I fly somewhere, it's on the east coast. I haven't been to California since I was 9, and haven't been any further west than Dallas since then, either. So while there are some minor differences when I fly over terrain--Texas is flatter, Georgia has bigger driveways--everything looks pretty much the same.
That is SO not true of Utah!
The mountains, and plateaus, and lakes, and whatever those dark spots are that are evenly spaced between rises and look like they have roads to them and are either small bodies of water or gigantic homes...those are all cool enough. But MAN, is the area around Salt Lake City gorgeous! It's like a different planet, one of those fantasy concoctions, with mountains right up against the lake, and salt everywhere, and even the more familiar agrarian areas laid out in humongous squares instead of little plots.
As we circled for our approach, the sun dipped below the cloud cover and shone brilliantly red, reflected on the lake, with enough beauty to crack even my unsentimental, icy heart. I got out my camera--and immediately dropped it, causing the beauty to become second only to my fear that the camera was sliding all over the plane every time it banked. (It didn't, but I lamented every minute I couldn't take pictures of gorgeousness).
I fly through LA instead of Salt Lake City on the way home. Yay.
We took a cab from Oakland's airport to SF. I'm not really a city person, and tend to think they all look alike. As we drove past downtown Oakland, the cabbie pointed it out like a really interesting landmark. I was "eh." It looked just like Dallas.
But San Francisco is definitely unique (that's the main reason I wanted to come!). As you cross the Bay Bridge at night, you can see the crookedy, hilly streets illuminated on either side of the (okay, common-looking) downtown area. The view didn't last long, a benefit of coming in so damned late--traffic was awesomely light.
So Day 1, I saw Lisa Mondello and new author Tracy Madison (the cause of our very late bedtime) and did nothing else.
Stay tuned for Day 2's much more interesting awesomeness!
Monday, July 28, 2008
Spewage
So I leave tomorrow morning for San Francisco, the RWA National Conference 2008. Like last week, I was going to do posts in advance and set them up to post automatically. But...
1. That doesn't work on LiveJournal and MySpace
and
2. I ran out of time to make up and copy/paste six posts.
So I'm just going to spew all the stuff in my head right now (which isn't much, actually, a lot of it drained away during the course of the day) and then you guys get a break from me for a whole week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Number One got back from Holland yesterday. She babbled nonstop from the airport through dinner and about 15 minutes into our 2-hour drive home, then crashed hard. The most memorable comment:
"I'm so glad I'm home and I can stop being responsible for myself."
It's interesting. In fifth grade, she went with her entire class to Williamsburg for three days. She came back with a new level of maturity. I expected it to happen this time, too, but she's exactly the same. She did new things, and made tons of friends, and used a credit card, but didn't change at all. I guess that's not a bad thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm up to season 5 of Buffy, eight episodes in. And I have to say, I'm all "Angel who?"
Riley is awesome, and I'm glad his role has gone on as long as it has. In the episode where Xander got split, Riley broke my heart at the end--actually brought tears to my eyes!--when he said how Buffy makes him feel like two people, on fire to touch her, yet at peace with contentment, and then he turned to Xander and said "But she doesn't love me."
Dagger to the heart.
And of course the beginning of the end. I like how they're going slow with it. Not like with Oz, where they shredded us.
And then the very next episode...
Let me tell you, I've loved Spike from the moment he came on screen. He's the best-written, best-acted character on the show, and he gets the funniest lines. So they have Ripley breaking my heart, and then Spike expressing his love for the Slayer. Got some heart-rolling-over-in-the-chest over that. *sigh*
I have to wait a week to watch more. :( Not that what I'll be doing instead won't be worth it...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some letters to the editor of Entertainment Weekly irritated me this week. I "get" the phenomenon of the Twilight series, insofar as I can see why teens love them to the level of insanity, and why so many adults enjoy them, too. I have enjoyed the books, more than a lot of things I've tried to read this year, but I found the first one very slow, and I'm completely annoyed by Bela at this point. I'm one of the rare few who prefers Jacob over Edward. They're both great, and I LOVE a two-hero situation, but I think Bela is herself when she is with Jacob, and when she's with Edward, she becomes someone different.
However. It's a story. People love it because it's a good story. Not too many of them are going to be influenced by it. And even if millions of teen girls throw themselves desperately at a boy who would be considered bad for them by their parents--if it's someone like Edward, they'll be in great shape.
Oh, and the person who said something derogatory about making them like a Harlequin romance? Uh, honey, the romance in the book is pretty much EXACTLY like a Harlequin romance. Just with more stuff going on around it, and with another guy in the mix. And that's NOT a bad thing!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can't think of anything else I was going to talk about, so I'll leave you with this:
Go buy Renegade!
A taste:
The rumble of the classic car, an unmistakable sound that heralded joy as well as a major pain in the ass, woke Trex at 2:53 Sunday morning. She lay there for a minute, her dream and the accompanying fog of sensuality fading as she listened to the creak and thud of two car doors opening and closing. So Jake wasn’t alone this time. Her mind flipped through possibilities—one of the children, one of the parents, even a girlfriend. After all, she hadn’t seen him in over a year.
Her condo’s bedroom was over the garage, and she’d installed a vent so she could hear anything going on down there. Jake didn’t know that.
“Why are we here?”
Trex didn’t recognize the first voice, but the one that answered was as familiar a purr as the car’s engine had been. It was accompanied by the creak of what was probably the trunk opening.
“I told you, they’ll be watching our known associates. She’s not a known associate.”
“And, again, why are we here?”
The trunk slammed. “I trust her.”
“So she knows?”
“She knows enough.”
Trex slid out of bed and grabbed her robe. Jake wouldn’t even notice her silk nightgown, but it wasn’t a proper greeting for the new guy, whoever he was.
She paused at the bedroom door when Jake spoke again.
“Look, Trex has been my best friend since we were kids.”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
The new guy was close enough to Jake to tease him, to make the claim of best friend when Jake hadn’t even known him a year ago. Trex’s curiosity—and a hint of jealousy—rose.
“Sure, yeah. But it’s different. The point is, I trust her. She has space for us, she won’t rat us out, and she lives under the radar.”
“You sure about that? You didn’t call her to tell her we were coming.”
Keys rattled, so Trex opened her bedroom door to head down the hall.
“I’m sure.”
“You said her name is what? Treks? What kind of name is that?”
Weariness flattened the humor in Jake’s voice. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Trex didn’t hear any more as she reached the end of the hall and turned into the kitchen. Outside the kitchen door came heavy, booted foot-thumps up the stairs from the garage. She removed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured an iced tea glass full, then turned when keys rattled again and the door opened.
Jake’s haggard face came first, under severely rumpled, spiky blond hair. He was way overdue for a cut. His lips curved when he saw her. He dropped an army-green duffle on the floor, his gaze latching on to the glass in her hand.
“Bless the whores and thank you, Jesus.” He reached for the glass and gulped half of it, pulling her up against him with his free arm. Her body sighed in recognition. Trex watched him drink, his throat working, the curve of his jaw outlined above her. An image flashed into her head, skin and writhing bodies. His? He’d been the man in her dream. The one in front. She focused on the heat burning into her from Jake’s arm around her waist, a sensation she craved both when he was gone and when he was here.
A discreet cough behind them made her jump. She’d forgotten the new guy. Jake let her go, and she turned. And jolted, recognition shooting through her. She didn’t know why, because she’d never seen him before. But she did know, at a deeper, less rational level. He was the other man in her dream.
“Hi.” The very tall, very broad man standing behind them gave an uncomfortable, close-mouthed grin. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.” His dark green eyes were dull, and her heart sank. She knew that look. She looked back at Jake, who’d drained his glass, and now noticed the pallor to his skin, the slump of his entire body. Despair pulled at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was empathy for what Jake had to be feeling, a response to her ongoing failure to comfort him, or a combination of the two.
The remnants of her dream faded completely.
1. That doesn't work on LiveJournal and MySpace
and
2. I ran out of time to make up and copy/paste six posts.
So I'm just going to spew all the stuff in my head right now (which isn't much, actually, a lot of it drained away during the course of the day) and then you guys get a break from me for a whole week.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Number One got back from Holland yesterday. She babbled nonstop from the airport through dinner and about 15 minutes into our 2-hour drive home, then crashed hard. The most memorable comment:
"I'm so glad I'm home and I can stop being responsible for myself."
It's interesting. In fifth grade, she went with her entire class to Williamsburg for three days. She came back with a new level of maturity. I expected it to happen this time, too, but she's exactly the same. She did new things, and made tons of friends, and used a credit card, but didn't change at all. I guess that's not a bad thing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm up to season 5 of Buffy, eight episodes in. And I have to say, I'm all "Angel who?"
Riley is awesome, and I'm glad his role has gone on as long as it has. In the episode where Xander got split, Riley broke my heart at the end--actually brought tears to my eyes!--when he said how Buffy makes him feel like two people, on fire to touch her, yet at peace with contentment, and then he turned to Xander and said "But she doesn't love me."
Dagger to the heart.
And of course the beginning of the end. I like how they're going slow with it. Not like with Oz, where they shredded us.
And then the very next episode...
Let me tell you, I've loved Spike from the moment he came on screen. He's the best-written, best-acted character on the show, and he gets the funniest lines. So they have Ripley breaking my heart, and then Spike expressing his love for the Slayer. Got some heart-rolling-over-in-the-chest over that. *sigh*
I have to wait a week to watch more. :( Not that what I'll be doing instead won't be worth it...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some letters to the editor of Entertainment Weekly irritated me this week. I "get" the phenomenon of the Twilight series, insofar as I can see why teens love them to the level of insanity, and why so many adults enjoy them, too. I have enjoyed the books, more than a lot of things I've tried to read this year, but I found the first one very slow, and I'm completely annoyed by Bela at this point. I'm one of the rare few who prefers Jacob over Edward. They're both great, and I LOVE a two-hero situation, but I think Bela is herself when she is with Jacob, and when she's with Edward, she becomes someone different.
However. It's a story. People love it because it's a good story. Not too many of them are going to be influenced by it. And even if millions of teen girls throw themselves desperately at a boy who would be considered bad for them by their parents--if it's someone like Edward, they'll be in great shape.
Oh, and the person who said something derogatory about making them like a Harlequin romance? Uh, honey, the romance in the book is pretty much EXACTLY like a Harlequin romance. Just with more stuff going on around it, and with another guy in the mix. And that's NOT a bad thing!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I can't think of anything else I was going to talk about, so I'll leave you with this:
Go buy Renegade!
A taste:
The rumble of the classic car, an unmistakable sound that heralded joy as well as a major pain in the ass, woke Trex at 2:53 Sunday morning. She lay there for a minute, her dream and the accompanying fog of sensuality fading as she listened to the creak and thud of two car doors opening and closing. So Jake wasn’t alone this time. Her mind flipped through possibilities—one of the children, one of the parents, even a girlfriend. After all, she hadn’t seen him in over a year.
Her condo’s bedroom was over the garage, and she’d installed a vent so she could hear anything going on down there. Jake didn’t know that.
“Why are we here?”
Trex didn’t recognize the first voice, but the one that answered was as familiar a purr as the car’s engine had been. It was accompanied by the creak of what was probably the trunk opening.
“I told you, they’ll be watching our known associates. She’s not a known associate.”
“And, again, why are we here?”
The trunk slammed. “I trust her.”
“So she knows?”
“She knows enough.”
Trex slid out of bed and grabbed her robe. Jake wouldn’t even notice her silk nightgown, but it wasn’t a proper greeting for the new guy, whoever he was.
She paused at the bedroom door when Jake spoke again.
“Look, Trex has been my best friend since we were kids.”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
The new guy was close enough to Jake to tease him, to make the claim of best friend when Jake hadn’t even known him a year ago. Trex’s curiosity—and a hint of jealousy—rose.
“Sure, yeah. But it’s different. The point is, I trust her. She has space for us, she won’t rat us out, and she lives under the radar.”
“You sure about that? You didn’t call her to tell her we were coming.”
Keys rattled, so Trex opened her bedroom door to head down the hall.
“I’m sure.”
“You said her name is what? Treks? What kind of name is that?”
Weariness flattened the humor in Jake’s voice. “You’ll have to ask her.”
Trex didn’t hear any more as she reached the end of the hall and turned into the kitchen. Outside the kitchen door came heavy, booted foot-thumps up the stairs from the garage. She removed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured an iced tea glass full, then turned when keys rattled again and the door opened.
Jake’s haggard face came first, under severely rumpled, spiky blond hair. He was way overdue for a cut. His lips curved when he saw her. He dropped an army-green duffle on the floor, his gaze latching on to the glass in her hand.
“Bless the whores and thank you, Jesus.” He reached for the glass and gulped half of it, pulling her up against him with his free arm. Her body sighed in recognition. Trex watched him drink, his throat working, the curve of his jaw outlined above her. An image flashed into her head, skin and writhing bodies. His? He’d been the man in her dream. The one in front. She focused on the heat burning into her from Jake’s arm around her waist, a sensation she craved both when he was gone and when he was here.
A discreet cough behind them made her jump. She’d forgotten the new guy. Jake let her go, and she turned. And jolted, recognition shooting through her. She didn’t know why, because she’d never seen him before. But she did know, at a deeper, less rational level. He was the other man in her dream.
“Hi.” The very tall, very broad man standing behind them gave an uncomfortable, close-mouthed grin. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.” His dark green eyes were dull, and her heart sank. She knew that look. She looked back at Jake, who’d drained his glass, and now noticed the pallor to his skin, the slump of his entire body. Despair pulled at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was empathy for what Jake had to be feeling, a response to her ongoing failure to comfort him, or a combination of the two.
The remnants of her dream faded completely.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Actors. Sheesh.
I just finished reading this week's episode of Entertainment Weekly, and the opinion column talked about the Katherine Heigl Emmy thing. You know, how she said she dropped out of the Emmy race because she didn't feel she was given the material to warrant an award, and she didn't want to take away a nomination from someone else who deserved it.
The columnist defended the actress, pointed out the circumstances of her quote, praised her honesty, and kind of lambasted anyone who lambasted her.
And he had some good points. Made me feel like I should be 100% on the side of these pressured, struggling actresses no matter what. So I will agree that honesty is refreshing, bravery admirable, and a few grains of salt should be allowed for someone who is accosted leaving the gym or whatever.
But I still have some problems with it. First, she had to have known she'd be asked about her decision, and had time to think about what to say and how to say it. She could be honest without being insulting. Rhimes can say all she wants that she wasn't insulted; that's okay, I'll be insulted for her.
Heigl could have said her storyline didn't lend itself to an Emmy-worthy performance. That's not insulting. That's not saying the writing wasn't good enough. And maybe it wasn't. I don't watch the show, so I can't comment on whether or not the material was Emmy-quality. Even if it wasn't, it's not a good practice to publicly criticize your boss. If I'd gone on the news and said my former employer was a nutcase, I'd be fired.
Um. For example. She wasn't. A nutcase.
Worse, though, is the implication that even though the material was sub-par, she'd have been nominated anyway, even though she didn't deserve it, and someone who did a better job and had better material to work with wouldn't have gotten a nomination, because hey, she's Katherine Heigl. Of COURSE she'd be nominated, even if she sucked.
But that's enough about that.
Some other actor thoughts...
It's interesting how there are different "kinds" of good acting.
There's the Scarlett Johansson kind. Critics RAVE over her. I find that when I watch her, I'm seeing a mask. She puts on her performance, like a costume or even a facade. It has nothing to do with what's inside her, and doesn't touch her. Jared Padalecki used to have some of that, though to a lesser extreme. He's improved over the years, with maturity, so that his character seeps into him more, or draws more on his depths.
More common are the actors who do a great job but who are essentially playing themselves. They may be able to change their worldview, and are playing themselves in terms of how they'd be if they were the character they are playing and had gone through the things the character went through. But their mannerisms are impossible to bury, and their personalities impose themselves on their characters. Mel Gibson is a classic example--a tremendous actor with great range, but you never lose Mel Gibson. A more immediate one, for me, is Alyson Hannigan. She is pure Alyson Hannigan, whether she's a teenage witch in California or an engaged contemporary artist in New York City. I like her (better than I thought I would) and she doesn't make me think about the actress instead of the character (unlike Scarlett), but like Mel, she never disappears into the character.
The very best actors are those who do disappear into their performances. From all accounts, Heath Ledger's Joker epitomizes this. Those who saw him in A Knight's Tale and Brokeback Mountain will agree. Brendan Gleeson is another such actor, and so-called character actors are always this kind. You may know you've seen them somewhere, but not recall where, or who they played, unless you see a whole bunch of their stuff in a row. Jensen Ackles is too beautiful to totally disappear, but his performances as Dean on Supernatural are drawn from deep inside. Seth Green is kind of a hybrid of this and the last one. He has some definite quirks that follow from role to role--his manner of speaking, his way of moving--but he draws subtle emotion from deep inside. His torment in his last few episodes of Buffy was all in his eyes.
Okay, maybe I'm just a sucker for the eyes.
The third kind of actor probably draws the viewer deeper into their performance, shares it better, evokes more. That doesn't mean the others don't have merit, and can't be enjoyed as much, because they can. I find myself watching the acting sometimes as much as the show, and classifying performances.
Maybe I just watch too much TV.
The columnist defended the actress, pointed out the circumstances of her quote, praised her honesty, and kind of lambasted anyone who lambasted her.
And he had some good points. Made me feel like I should be 100% on the side of these pressured, struggling actresses no matter what. So I will agree that honesty is refreshing, bravery admirable, and a few grains of salt should be allowed for someone who is accosted leaving the gym or whatever.
But I still have some problems with it. First, she had to have known she'd be asked about her decision, and had time to think about what to say and how to say it. She could be honest without being insulting. Rhimes can say all she wants that she wasn't insulted; that's okay, I'll be insulted for her.
Heigl could have said her storyline didn't lend itself to an Emmy-worthy performance. That's not insulting. That's not saying the writing wasn't good enough. And maybe it wasn't. I don't watch the show, so I can't comment on whether or not the material was Emmy-quality. Even if it wasn't, it's not a good practice to publicly criticize your boss. If I'd gone on the news and said my former employer was a nutcase, I'd be fired.
Um. For example. She wasn't. A nutcase.
Worse, though, is the implication that even though the material was sub-par, she'd have been nominated anyway, even though she didn't deserve it, and someone who did a better job and had better material to work with wouldn't have gotten a nomination, because hey, she's Katherine Heigl. Of COURSE she'd be nominated, even if she sucked.
But that's enough about that.
Some other actor thoughts...
It's interesting how there are different "kinds" of good acting.
There's the Scarlett Johansson kind. Critics RAVE over her. I find that when I watch her, I'm seeing a mask. She puts on her performance, like a costume or even a facade. It has nothing to do with what's inside her, and doesn't touch her. Jared Padalecki used to have some of that, though to a lesser extreme. He's improved over the years, with maturity, so that his character seeps into him more, or draws more on his depths.
More common are the actors who do a great job but who are essentially playing themselves. They may be able to change their worldview, and are playing themselves in terms of how they'd be if they were the character they are playing and had gone through the things the character went through. But their mannerisms are impossible to bury, and their personalities impose themselves on their characters. Mel Gibson is a classic example--a tremendous actor with great range, but you never lose Mel Gibson. A more immediate one, for me, is Alyson Hannigan. She is pure Alyson Hannigan, whether she's a teenage witch in California or an engaged contemporary artist in New York City. I like her (better than I thought I would) and she doesn't make me think about the actress instead of the character (unlike Scarlett), but like Mel, she never disappears into the character.
The very best actors are those who do disappear into their performances. From all accounts, Heath Ledger's Joker epitomizes this. Those who saw him in A Knight's Tale and Brokeback Mountain will agree. Brendan Gleeson is another such actor, and so-called character actors are always this kind. You may know you've seen them somewhere, but not recall where, or who they played, unless you see a whole bunch of their stuff in a row. Jensen Ackles is too beautiful to totally disappear, but his performances as Dean on Supernatural are drawn from deep inside. Seth Green is kind of a hybrid of this and the last one. He has some definite quirks that follow from role to role--his manner of speaking, his way of moving--but he draws subtle emotion from deep inside. His torment in his last few episodes of Buffy was all in his eyes.
Okay, maybe I'm just a sucker for the eyes.
The third kind of actor probably draws the viewer deeper into their performance, shares it better, evokes more. That doesn't mean the others don't have merit, and can't be enjoyed as much, because they can. I find myself watching the acting sometimes as much as the show, and classifying performances.
Maybe I just watch too much TV.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Buffy. Finally.
Each summer for the last few, I've rented some TV shows on DVD, usually stuff that interested me in the past that I didn't have access to, or just didn't get around to watching. This summer I tried two cult-hit series. One was a complete hit, one a complete miss.
When I describe my reaction to the complete miss, I'm gonna piss off some people. I don't in any way intend my comments about the show to be any kind of commentary or judgment. It didn't work for me and that does not reflect at all on anyone else.
I know, you're dying of curiosity, right? Well then, let me tease you some more. :)
It's a show that had a long run, and started in the early 90s. Its subject would seem to be right up my alley. In fact, that's why I decided to give it a try. So many of my favorite shows now have writers from that old show, too. It seemed perfect for my summer viewing.
I hated it. Some stuff, you just have to overlook. I mean, we're talking 15 years ago. So fashions are laughable. ADR (the dubbing of dialogue because the original recording didn't work) has come a LONG way, let me tell you. Sometimes it seemed like they lip-synched for a whole hour. But what really surprised me, and killed my interest, was the writing. It was so illogical. And not in an "aliens are real" kind of way, I can totally buy into any of that stuff. But in a "make our characters stupid to fit a plot point" kind of way. In the last episode I watched--and I admit to only getting through four, even though I had another disk on hand--the hero slinks out of some tall grass onto a runway on a "secure" military base. He sees a really cool ship (early 90s special effects, gotta overlook it). Then he sees law enforcement lights, pretty far down the runway. Does he slink back into the tall grass where he can hide and get away? No. Idiot runs down the runway, away from a cop car and a big panel truck.
I could not condone that kind of stupidity.
The show, I'm sorry to say, was the X-Files.
So when I sadly wrote that one off, I started Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I'd put that one off for a really long time, knowing I would probably like it--I mean, Joss Whedon! I've loved everything else he's ever done!--but there were some things that put me off. For one, I never cared for Sarah Michelle Gellar very much, nor for Alyson Hannigan. I couldn't really see the appeal of Spike or Angel from afar (I'd seen both actors in other things, and they didn't do anything for me). And I was afraid. I'd watched a couple of bits when J was flipping channels, and it seemed to belong to the age in which it was filmed (much like X-Files was). But everyone I know pushed me to try it, or at least proclaimed its brilliance. So I finally popped in that first disk, holding my breath.
And, of course, I love it.
Season 1 was okay. Season 2 was very good. I liked the heartbreaking finale best, I think. Season 3 was excellent, especially toward the end, when they pretended Angel went bad to corner Faith, and when they got the whole school to rally.
Season 4 got off to a bit of a rocky start, with too many episodes reducing people to stupidity. But then it started to soar. Any episode was better when Spike was in it. OMG, talk about brilliant. He gets the best lines, and has the most awesome delivery. The Thanksgiving episode and the one where Willow imposes her will, so Buffy and Spike are engaged, had me cracking up nonstop. I'm up to episode 11, and annoyed that I have to wait until Tuesday to watch any more. iTunes doesn't have more than the first two seasons; nor does Hulu. My local Blockbuster only has season 1, the losers. And TheWB.com has me all confused.
Not everything is perfect, of course. I miss Cordelia, and I'm really unhappy Oz is gone for good. Buffy's relationship issues, at this point, are kind of annoying. I mean, how much more perfect can Riley be? Giles seemed better in the library than at home (though I don't love him any less), and I want Xander to stop regressing. He has shown again and again he's not the loser they keep trying to make/keep him, and perhaps it's growing pains, a struggle to fit him into the ever-evolving world, but I hope he outgrows it soon.
It's really fun picking out people I've seen elsewhere, like Paris's boyfriend on Gilmore Girls, and Layla Rourke from Supernatural's episode "Faith," and various and sundry others. I'm happy that I have three and a half more seasons, and I wish I knew someone else who had the disks because it was so much nicer having them all here. This waiting-for-a-disk-for-four-days-over-the-weekend/Netflix thing isn't cutting it for me right now.
I didn't think I'd be interested in seeing Angel, but I have a feeling I'll be so disappointed when I'm done with Buffy that I'll be happy to venture down that road.
When I describe my reaction to the complete miss, I'm gonna piss off some people. I don't in any way intend my comments about the show to be any kind of commentary or judgment. It didn't work for me and that does not reflect at all on anyone else.
I know, you're dying of curiosity, right? Well then, let me tease you some more. :)
It's a show that had a long run, and started in the early 90s. Its subject would seem to be right up my alley. In fact, that's why I decided to give it a try. So many of my favorite shows now have writers from that old show, too. It seemed perfect for my summer viewing.
I hated it. Some stuff, you just have to overlook. I mean, we're talking 15 years ago. So fashions are laughable. ADR (the dubbing of dialogue because the original recording didn't work) has come a LONG way, let me tell you. Sometimes it seemed like they lip-synched for a whole hour. But what really surprised me, and killed my interest, was the writing. It was so illogical. And not in an "aliens are real" kind of way, I can totally buy into any of that stuff. But in a "make our characters stupid to fit a plot point" kind of way. In the last episode I watched--and I admit to only getting through four, even though I had another disk on hand--the hero slinks out of some tall grass onto a runway on a "secure" military base. He sees a really cool ship (early 90s special effects, gotta overlook it). Then he sees law enforcement lights, pretty far down the runway. Does he slink back into the tall grass where he can hide and get away? No. Idiot runs down the runway, away from a cop car and a big panel truck.
I could not condone that kind of stupidity.
The show, I'm sorry to say, was the X-Files.
So when I sadly wrote that one off, I started Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. I'd put that one off for a really long time, knowing I would probably like it--I mean, Joss Whedon! I've loved everything else he's ever done!--but there were some things that put me off. For one, I never cared for Sarah Michelle Gellar very much, nor for Alyson Hannigan. I couldn't really see the appeal of Spike or Angel from afar (I'd seen both actors in other things, and they didn't do anything for me). And I was afraid. I'd watched a couple of bits when J was flipping channels, and it seemed to belong to the age in which it was filmed (much like X-Files was). But everyone I know pushed me to try it, or at least proclaimed its brilliance. So I finally popped in that first disk, holding my breath.
And, of course, I love it.
Season 1 was okay. Season 2 was very good. I liked the heartbreaking finale best, I think. Season 3 was excellent, especially toward the end, when they pretended Angel went bad to corner Faith, and when they got the whole school to rally.
Season 4 got off to a bit of a rocky start, with too many episodes reducing people to stupidity. But then it started to soar. Any episode was better when Spike was in it. OMG, talk about brilliant. He gets the best lines, and has the most awesome delivery. The Thanksgiving episode and the one where Willow imposes her will, so Buffy and Spike are engaged, had me cracking up nonstop. I'm up to episode 11, and annoyed that I have to wait until Tuesday to watch any more. iTunes doesn't have more than the first two seasons; nor does Hulu. My local Blockbuster only has season 1, the losers. And TheWB.com has me all confused.
Not everything is perfect, of course. I miss Cordelia, and I'm really unhappy Oz is gone for good. Buffy's relationship issues, at this point, are kind of annoying. I mean, how much more perfect can Riley be? Giles seemed better in the library than at home (though I don't love him any less), and I want Xander to stop regressing. He has shown again and again he's not the loser they keep trying to make/keep him, and perhaps it's growing pains, a struggle to fit him into the ever-evolving world, but I hope he outgrows it soon.
It's really fun picking out people I've seen elsewhere, like Paris's boyfriend on Gilmore Girls, and Layla Rourke from Supernatural's episode "Faith," and various and sundry others. I'm happy that I have three and a half more seasons, and I wish I knew someone else who had the disks because it was so much nicer having them all here. This waiting-for-a-disk-for-four-days-over-the-weekend/Netflix thing isn't cutting it for me right now.
I didn't think I'd be interested in seeing Angel, but I have a feeling I'll be so disappointed when I'm done with Buffy that I'll be happy to venture down that road.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Summer of Disappointment: Movies 2008
Every year, I have great anticipation for the summer movies. Not just the blockbusters, but the demo-specific films they think will fill in some gaps (as in, everyone who is not a teenage boy), and sometimes even the indies. When the kids go to Camp Nana, in the past we've always had a movie night. I rushed out with glee to see all the great films I've looked forward to for months, even years.
This year, in that regard, has been a great big bust.
Sure, there've been decent movies. Iron Man stands out as the best of them all. But after that, it's been pretty downhill. Indiana Jones, while fun enough, didn't live up to the hype, and I left the theater very unsatisfied. Kung Fu Panda, Wall*E, and Get Smart earned "great!" votes from me, but none made me want to see them again. And all the rest in between, the ones I wanted to see and haven't yet...Leatherheads, Wanted, Hancock...well, they're not making me feel compelled.
We haven't had a single Camp Nana movie night.
There's still some hope. But even the ones coming up (The Dark Knight, Mummy 3, Tropic Thunder) don't make me bounce in my seat.
Is it me? Is it the circumstances of my summer? Am I bored? Tired? Lazy? Perhaps it's timing. Simply that the subjects of the movies aren't strong enough to draw me away from the entertainment I have here in my house.
Whatever it is, I'm severely disappointed.
I do have to say, however, that Journey to the Center of the Earth is not a disappointment. It's no Pirates or LOTR, but for what it is, it was a lot of fun. The acting was very good. I liked the boy (Josh Hutchinson or something like that) in his previous movie whose name escapes me right now, and the Icelandic actress was talented and beautiful, and of course there was Brendan Fraser.
Long-time readers or people who know me may recall that Brendan Fraser was my firstobsession passion. I could not get enough of him! I rented George of the Jungle! Then he kind of faded away for a while, and there was nothing to feed my obsession passion, and it moved on to Lord of the Rings, which took a lot of energy for a while. But in JttCotE, he was perfect. A kind of geeky, kind of sweet, very clueless guy goes on an adventure and becomes tough and manly and heroic. Totally swoon-worthy.
You do, of course, have to suspend some pretty heavy disbelief, but hey, it's inspired by Jules Verne, and no one disses Jules Verne. The movie is fun and did leave me feeling very satisfied when we left the theater.
So how would you rate this summer movie season?
This year, in that regard, has been a great big bust.
Sure, there've been decent movies. Iron Man stands out as the best of them all. But after that, it's been pretty downhill. Indiana Jones, while fun enough, didn't live up to the hype, and I left the theater very unsatisfied. Kung Fu Panda, Wall*E, and Get Smart earned "great!" votes from me, but none made me want to see them again. And all the rest in between, the ones I wanted to see and haven't yet...Leatherheads, Wanted, Hancock...well, they're not making me feel compelled.
We haven't had a single Camp Nana movie night.
There's still some hope. But even the ones coming up (The Dark Knight, Mummy 3, Tropic Thunder) don't make me bounce in my seat.
Is it me? Is it the circumstances of my summer? Am I bored? Tired? Lazy? Perhaps it's timing. Simply that the subjects of the movies aren't strong enough to draw me away from the entertainment I have here in my house.
Whatever it is, I'm severely disappointed.
I do have to say, however, that Journey to the Center of the Earth is not a disappointment. It's no Pirates or LOTR, but for what it is, it was a lot of fun. The acting was very good. I liked the boy (Josh Hutchinson or something like that) in his previous movie whose name escapes me right now, and the Icelandic actress was talented and beautiful, and of course there was Brendan Fraser.
Long-time readers or people who know me may recall that Brendan Fraser was my first
You do, of course, have to suspend some pretty heavy disbelief, but hey, it's inspired by Jules Verne, and no one disses Jules Verne. The movie is fun and did leave me feeling very satisfied when we left the theater.
So how would you rate this summer movie season?
Monday, July 21, 2008
RENEGADE
I have a new release!
Renegade is totally inspired by Sam and Dean and the Impala and road-tripping and helping people, and it is all about personal fantasy, in the sense that I want to be part of Sam and Dean's world.
Of course, inspiration doesn't mean copying. Jake and Dan are not brothers, they are not demon-hunters, and their relationship is actually pretty simple. The story is less about them than it is about a woman torn between two worthy men. But it's about a lot more than that:
Trex Samuels has lived her life for her best friend, Jake. Her job as an information broker allows her to stay in one place and keep tabs on Jake, who travels the world using his unique gifts to save abducted children. Trex is the closest thing to a home Jake has, and she waits for his infrequent visits that always bring both joy and pain.
Things change, however, when Jake is on the run from the law. This time, he is haunted by his failures, tormented by waking nightmares.
This time, he's brought a partner.
Dan awakens in Trex a new craving, but one that doesn't eliminate the old. When she realizes the men need her, that she has the power to banish their demons--however temporarily--they embark on a journey of sensuality and desperate pleasure. In the end, she not only has the power to heal them, but to set them free.
And only one will come back to her...
Hm. Interesting how I wrote that blurb. One does come back to her, but she has to chase the other one down. The one she really belongs with. Kind of philosophical.
The story includes some dream-sequence menage action, as well as the kind of emotional torment that turns a love scene up a dozen notches. There is also plenty of adventure and a little bit of the paranormal.
You can get a taste of the story on this page, which contains an excerpt of an early scene. I hope you enjoy it!
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Ten-Day Hiatus
Hi! I'm back from my hiatus!
What? You didn't know I was on one?
Whoops.
In truth, I didn't intend to be. I had lots of topics to address over the last ten days, I just couldn't find the time to type them out. Partly because of work. Partly because of total distraction with Number One's slumber party, birthday, and trip. She turned 13 on Thursday, and on Friday she took off with a bunch of strangers.
It all went pretty smoothly, though. I had communicated with, but not met, the People-to-People leader who was in charge of the group. I liked her as soon as we walked into the airport and she approached us, very organized and pleasant and excited. Over the next hour and a half, she gave us reason to be comfortable that she could handle any crisis.
So at 3:15 Saturday morning, Number One called between the airport in Amsterdam and the Friendship Village. She didn't manage to sleep on the plane because her seatmate snored and hocked a lougie every five minutes, and she had a full day of activity ahead of her, but she sounded wide awake and loving being where she was.
We haven't heard from her since.
Which I have no doubt is a good thing. She's probably not homesick, and I know she's keeping busy, probably making tons of new friends. I'm sure it's not that she lost her phone, or broke it, or is lying in a coma in the hospital after losing her ID lanyard in a horrible accident.
Or anything like that.
Ahem.
Anyway, I don't want to pack ten days worth of thoughts into one post, so I'm going to schedule a whole bunch of posts over the next several days, which--BONUS--means I won't have to take the time to post each day!
First up...Renegade!
What? You didn't know I was on one?
Whoops.
In truth, I didn't intend to be. I had lots of topics to address over the last ten days, I just couldn't find the time to type them out. Partly because of work. Partly because of total distraction with Number One's slumber party, birthday, and trip. She turned 13 on Thursday, and on Friday she took off with a bunch of strangers.
It all went pretty smoothly, though. I had communicated with, but not met, the People-to-People leader who was in charge of the group. I liked her as soon as we walked into the airport and she approached us, very organized and pleasant and excited. Over the next hour and a half, she gave us reason to be comfortable that she could handle any crisis.
So at 3:15 Saturday morning, Number One called between the airport in Amsterdam and the Friendship Village. She didn't manage to sleep on the plane because her seatmate snored and hocked a lougie every five minutes, and she had a full day of activity ahead of her, but she sounded wide awake and loving being where she was.
We haven't heard from her since.
Which I have no doubt is a good thing. She's probably not homesick, and I know she's keeping busy, probably making tons of new friends. I'm sure it's not that she lost her phone, or broke it, or is lying in a coma in the hospital after losing her ID lanyard in a horrible accident.
Or anything like that.
Ahem.
Anyway, I don't want to pack ten days worth of thoughts into one post, so I'm going to schedule a whole bunch of posts over the next several days, which--BONUS--means I won't have to take the time to post each day!
First up...Renegade!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Help, New MeMe, and Winchesters
I've started a new book, and I need some input.
Remember the movie Sweet Home Alabama? Reese Witherspoon wants to marry her rich fiancé but can't until she gets a divorce from her redneck ex. She winds up with the redneck ex.
My book has a certain basis in that premise. The heroine has a past that has come back to threaten her. She dumps the fiancé to protect him and his family but knows she's not safe until she solves the problem, so she goes back to her former flame, who is now a mercenary and the only person she knows who could maybe help her. But the fiancé surprises her and insists on helping. So there are two potential heroes, both of whom defy the labels she has placed on them, both of whom are worthy of her. I don't know who she winds up with yet.
My dilemma is, should I write the book all in her POV (it's third person) or include both heroes' POVs?
Having all three POVs is highly unconventional, even more unconventional than having two heroes in the first place (outside of erotic romance, I suppose, which this book is not). But I think the book would be richer and more emotionally engaging if we saw inside the guys' heads.
So tell me...what would you like to read?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trish Milburn has started her own meme. Please participate, if you are so inspired!
Famous People Meme — Which famous person in each of the following categories would you like to meet?
Author — My first thought was Jim Butcher, but Trish said JK Rowling and that's a good one, too. Many of my other favorites, I've had the great fortune to have met already.
Movie Actor — Jason Bateman, I think. I still have semi-obsessions with Brendan Fraser, Orlando Bloom, and Joaquin Phoenix, and Jonathan Rhys Myers, but I'm so impressed with Jason's acting, and he seems like the kind of guy who'd sit down and talk to me about writing and acting and the business and stuff, without acting like he's doing me a favor.
TV Actor — Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, total no-brainer.
Musician/Singer — Jason Manns
Historical Figure — No idea. Maybe Laura Ingalls.
Fictional Book Character — Harry Dresden
Fictional Movie or TV Character — Sam and Dean (from Supernatural, of course)! And also Derek Reese from Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some of my "friends" have been successfully keeping me (among other people) away from my writing challenge with Winchester videos. As a result, I find Winchester vids peppering the blogs I read. I might as well join in! Here's one of my favorites:
Remember the movie Sweet Home Alabama? Reese Witherspoon wants to marry her rich fiancé but can't until she gets a divorce from her redneck ex. She winds up with the redneck ex.
My book has a certain basis in that premise. The heroine has a past that has come back to threaten her. She dumps the fiancé to protect him and his family but knows she's not safe until she solves the problem, so she goes back to her former flame, who is now a mercenary and the only person she knows who could maybe help her. But the fiancé surprises her and insists on helping. So there are two potential heroes, both of whom defy the labels she has placed on them, both of whom are worthy of her. I don't know who she winds up with yet.
My dilemma is, should I write the book all in her POV (it's third person) or include both heroes' POVs?
Having all three POVs is highly unconventional, even more unconventional than having two heroes in the first place (outside of erotic romance, I suppose, which this book is not). But I think the book would be richer and more emotionally engaging if we saw inside the guys' heads.
So tell me...what would you like to read?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trish Milburn has started her own meme. Please participate, if you are so inspired!
Famous People Meme — Which famous person in each of the following categories would you like to meet?
Author — My first thought was Jim Butcher, but Trish said JK Rowling and that's a good one, too. Many of my other favorites, I've had the great fortune to have met already.
Movie Actor — Jason Bateman, I think. I still have semi-obsessions with Brendan Fraser, Orlando Bloom, and Joaquin Phoenix, and Jonathan Rhys Myers, but I'm so impressed with Jason's acting, and he seems like the kind of guy who'd sit down and talk to me about writing and acting and the business and stuff, without acting like he's doing me a favor.
TV Actor — Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles, total no-brainer.
Musician/Singer — Jason Manns
Historical Figure — No idea. Maybe Laura Ingalls.
Fictional Book Character — Harry Dresden
Fictional Movie or TV Character — Sam and Dean (from Supernatural, of course)! And also Derek Reese from Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some of my "friends" have been successfully keeping me (among other people) away from my writing challenge with Winchester videos. As a result, I find Winchester vids peppering the blogs I read. I might as well join in! Here's one of my favorites:
Monday, July 07, 2008
The Great Wii Backfire
In a semi-desperate bid to increase my family's activity level, especially the kids', I ordered a Wii last week. The package had the Wii Sports, of course, plus a stupid Smash Brothers game. I ordered a pro soccer game and carnival games to go with everything. The Wii Fit is still on my radar but still not available anywhere.
I'm sure it surprises no one that the Wii is a big hit all the way around. J hooked it up for the kids on Friday while I was indisposed. Once I felt better I did one game of bowling, two rounds of tennis (best of five), and two boxing matches (KO'd, both times). That little bit gave me a raging shoulder/neckache. And the other three spent HOURS over the long weekend playing. All three of them have been very, very sore.
Number One got left by Number Two mid-tennis match, so Number One played against herself. She won. She found it to be so much fun that she played baseball against herself, too, pitching with one hand and hitting with the other. It's kind of hilarious.
Number Two is the boxing champ. She's ferocious. I'm at level 0. She's nearly at 400.
Unfortunately, the kids are drawn to playing but have been trying to rest their aching muscles, which has led them to discover that Hey! They don't need to stand up to play tennis! They can lie on their backs and flick their wrists!
Not exactly what I was going for.
I'm sure it surprises no one that the Wii is a big hit all the way around. J hooked it up for the kids on Friday while I was indisposed. Once I felt better I did one game of bowling, two rounds of tennis (best of five), and two boxing matches (KO'd, both times). That little bit gave me a raging shoulder/neckache. And the other three spent HOURS over the long weekend playing. All three of them have been very, very sore.
Number One got left by Number Two mid-tennis match, so Number One played against herself. She won. She found it to be so much fun that she played baseball against herself, too, pitching with one hand and hitting with the other. It's kind of hilarious.
Number Two is the boxing champ. She's ferocious. I'm at level 0. She's nearly at 400.
Unfortunately, the kids are drawn to playing but have been trying to rest their aching muscles, which has led them to discover that Hey! They don't need to stand up to play tennis! They can lie on their backs and flick their wrists!
Not exactly what I was going for.
Saturday, July 05, 2008
What You Don't Want to Know
I have a friend who doesn't talk about personal stuff on her blog. I mean, she rants about typical family stuff (shut off the damn lights, pick up your sh**) and personal feelings about the writing industry. And she puts on a really good show. But even if you think you know a lot about her, you don't know a lot about her. I admire that, deeply. Because if I were more like her...
...I wouldn't post about how this week was not so fantastic as last week, primarily because I was sick for two days and spent most of today in the ER.
...I would not post about pain so bad I should have another baby making demands right now.
...I would not post about Number Two telling me "Too Much Information" when I explained about the procedure I'll be having on Tuesday. Yeah, the one with the camera going where no camera should ever have to go. (Even the most common expressions are funnier when they come out of a nine-year-old's mouth.)
I guess that's enough stuff I shouldn't be posting about.
To all those who may ask, I seem to be fine. The ER trip was one of those pointless ones where you find out you're not about to die but virtually nothing else. I'm a little anemic. Apparently not enough to worry about at the moment.
Anyway.
I haven't read through Fight or Flight yet, and a I have a new proofing job this weekend, but I did manage to get some files set up for my challenge next week, so it wasn't a total loss.
I don't know if I mentioned the challenge yet. A group of friends--stay-at-home writers like me--has agreed to challenge each other weekly to help keep us on track this summer. We get points for writing new stuff or editing old stuff, and the person with the most points after the five-day period wins for the week. And we'll all go out to a fancy dinner at the end, provided we have at least tried to meet the challenge. Which we will. We're a group so dedicated we don't really need the challenge.
So, I suppose I should say Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans. I kind of forgot it was a holiday, given the circumstances, but we did manage to set off a few legal fireworks in the driveway after dark. I hope you all celebrated appropriately and will enjoy the rest of your long weekend.
And I promise not to describe my Tuesday.
...I wouldn't post about how this week was not so fantastic as last week, primarily because I was sick for two days and spent most of today in the ER.
...I would not post about pain so bad I should have another baby making demands right now.
...I would not post about Number Two telling me "Too Much Information" when I explained about the procedure I'll be having on Tuesday. Yeah, the one with the camera going where no camera should ever have to go. (Even the most common expressions are funnier when they come out of a nine-year-old's mouth.)
I guess that's enough stuff I shouldn't be posting about.
To all those who may ask, I seem to be fine. The ER trip was one of those pointless ones where you find out you're not about to die but virtually nothing else. I'm a little anemic. Apparently not enough to worry about at the moment.
Anyway.
I haven't read through Fight or Flight yet, and a I have a new proofing job this weekend, but I did manage to get some files set up for my challenge next week, so it wasn't a total loss.
I don't know if I mentioned the challenge yet. A group of friends--stay-at-home writers like me--has agreed to challenge each other weekly to help keep us on track this summer. We get points for writing new stuff or editing old stuff, and the person with the most points after the five-day period wins for the week. And we'll all go out to a fancy dinner at the end, provided we have at least tried to meet the challenge. Which we will. We're a group so dedicated we don't really need the challenge.
So, I suppose I should say Happy Independence Day to all my fellow Americans. I kind of forgot it was a holiday, given the circumstances, but we did manage to set off a few legal fireworks in the driveway after dark. I hope you all celebrated appropriately and will enjoy the rest of your long weekend.
And I promise not to describe my Tuesday.
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