The Mysteries of Life--Arizona and Fleecy Mullets

        Tony Diaz, a writer and educator, was a guest speaker at the National Writing Project's Urban Sites conference last weekend.

        He gave us a tidbit of information that floored me. Right now it's against the law to teach Mexican American studies in Arizona schools. Books like House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros. Banned. Apparently Cisneros is trying to overthrow the government with her literature. Several (I imagine) Sherman Alexie books are on the taboo list (I only saw one). Like Water for Chocolate--another one of my favorites--is apparently subversive. 

       What is up with that?

       And once you pick your jaw off the floor (if this is new information for you, like it was for me), I'm going to leave you with something lighter… something like fleecy mullets.

       Fleecy mullets? You're intrigued now, right? You're wondering if you're going to have to put a hit on Billy Ray Cyrus, because you won't be able to stomach a mullet craze getting revived?

      Read and enjoy...   

Risky Business

         Living your life to the fullest.
         Going after your dream.
         Being true to yourself...it's risky business.

         One of the million and one reasons why I am lucky to be a member of the WWWPs (an infamous writing critique group) is they are all risk-takers. None of them are afraid of their next step.

        Beth quit her high-paying job to start up her own business. Three kids at home (two of them teenagers) and single motherhood added to the scary factor. But she continues to hammer away at getting new clients and going after new opportunities...

       Linda has enough grandkids...in her spare time she could be content to make cookies for her grandbabies (or just eat the raw cookie dough herself and deprive them of goodies, which is what I would do), and yet she submits to more places by 5:17 in the morning--every day--than most people do in a week. Linda doesn't think, 'What if I lose out on this chance?' Instead, she thinks, 'What do I have to lose?'

       Tammy is the quiet one, the one who does things unbeknownst to the group and then when we get wind of the results of her work, we're blown away. Everyone knows the phrase "still waters run deep," right? Well, Tammy submits stories and enters contests without talking about them. She doesn't just talk the talk--she walks the walk as well. Recently, she was a Reader's Digest winner. The flashy true story was just like what she brings to our critique meetings twice a month--we all become fly-catchers as our mouths gape open--but she quietly crafted it and sent it off...without a thought to what her chances were. There are writers I know (I just looked at one of them in the mirror this morning)  who heard of the contest but shot themselves down before they even had the chance to try. Tammy was willing to take the risk. 

        And if you haven't had the chance to read her winning story, check it out.     

        Lynn was the first of our group to try NaNoWriMo--many years ago. Writing a novel-length manuscript is not for the knock-kneed, and Lynn has successfully "won" with NaNo more than one year. She also is brave enough to never turn away from her personal journey as a writer. Lynn has several long projects she's juggling, she goes to conferences to grow as a writer and as a human being, and--of the five of us--I think she lives the truest writer's life. She writes/journals/sketches/revises every day. It's part of her daily ritual. And putting one foot in front of the other--taking that first step every day--takes a lot of courage.

     What kind of risks have you taken recently (or at any point in your life)?

                                                    or

                Who is the biggest, most bad-a** risk-taker you know? (My nosey nose wants to know.)

Something Delicious

        A good book is delicious. Really.

      At our last writing critique group meeting, a book was being passed around. Tammy, one of the WWWPs had loaned it out. Lynn had borrowed it and was returning it. Beth had read it a while ago. Before Tammy could get it back, I snatched it and dragged it back to my lair.

      "Whoah. You mean this writing critique group is a little self-made library? You mean you do something besides critique each other's writing?" you say?  Not only do we toss books back and forth, we also nibble (on--too often--homemade treats), we drink (mostly tea, but once we drank a satisfying alcoholic concoction that is named after what Meg Ryan faked in the movie When Harry Met Sally), we play proctologist and examine what comes out of one member's anal sphincter every two weeks, and we investigate threats on Linda O'Connell's life. (Writers who are desperate to slow her submission rate down have threatened her with death by wood chipper...a leg of lamb...a nail gun.)

photo by www.thedawgsdish.com

       The book I'm almost finished with is Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl. In the middle of my sneezing and snorting, I think I can finish it tonight. I'm enjoying it so far, but at least two of the women expressed disappointment about one particular part/aspect. (And they wouldn't say WHAT was lacking...)

Is the end disappointing? I hope not.

\What deliciousness are you savoring right now?  (Yes, I know what you'll say, Shay. You're luxuriating in a month-long vacation, and are burying us all under an avalanche of your poems.) What book or television show or project are you immersed in right now?

My snot-filled nose wants to know.

 

Tidbits 'bout Tammy

       Yes, there has been lots of frothing-at-the-mouth lately. So much, in fact, that a puddle of spit has formed at my feet.

      After my shocking, explosive expose' on Beth M. Wood, the crowds of my followers (all 7 of them) have clamored for more details about the other elusive WWWP--T'Mara Goodsell  She and Beth are the blind albino newt twins--they live in caves and are only lured out for book signings; the other two WWWPs are famous amongst St. Louis writers, so the frenzied few want to know the scoop on Tammy since they already know Linda O'Connell and Lynn Obermoeller.

Tammy Goodsell, at one of her most recent book signings

       To shed some light on her, I'm offering a few contrasting characteristics:


        Tammy                                 Sioux

*  has dark hair that sometimes                         * has hair that always
    is wavy and sometimes straight,                    looks like it was styled
    but it always looks great                                   with an egg beater


*  is known for the phenomenal writing             * known for occasionally
    she pulls out of her a##                                     acting  like an a##


* when she has a book signing,                          * people are given the
   multiple male suitors show up to                        breathe-on-the-mirror
   fawn over her                                                       test and then are 
                                                                                 dragged to her book
                                                                                  signings

* never fails to use proper grammar                  * never fails to insert a
                                                                                 set of ellipses (or two)
                                                                                 in every sentence

* looks darling in pajama jeans                           * looks like Halle Berry
                                                                                  someone who
                                                                                  swallowed Halle Berry
                                                                                  when she's wearing
                                                                                  pajama jeans

* has been known to steal pillows from              * has been know to 
   unsuspecting sleepers                                          drool on pillows

* is in love with a Frenchman and stalks him      * is in love with France
                                                                                   and plans on wood-
                                                                                   chippering her
                                                                                   husband, if need be,
                                                                                   in order to move
                                                                                   there

* is known for her miniature BLTs                         * has been known to
                                                                                    gobble down 37 of
                                                                                    Tammy's mini BLTs
                                                                                    in one sitting, while
                                                                                    she stabbed the
                                                                                    other WWWPs with
                                                                                    a sharp fork each
                                                                                    time they attempted
                                                                                    to get one
                 
                                                                               
                                      
* has the lushest set of eyelashes around             * has a lucious plate
                                                                                    of fudge waiting to
                                                                                    be eaten...


        Now that you are armed with some titillating tidbits about Tammy, if you are fortunate enough to encounter her during one of her rare forays into the public forum, you will recognize her...and you can--with confidence introduce yourself.

       And you'll find you are in the company of a gifted, gracious writer...


                                                         

Revealing Tidbits About the WWWPs

       Many people are clamoring about details about the twice-monthly meetings of the infamous writing critique group, the WWWPs.

       Oh, some of you try to namedrop, saying, "Well, I know Linda O'Connell," because Linda does lots of book talks, book signings, workshops and so on. When Chicken Soup clucks, there are at least a few feathers left fluttering around from Linda's backside plumage. She's co-authoring a Not Your Mother's Book for Publishing Syndicate. She's been around...

       And others will claim, "Lynn? I know her," because Lynn Obermoeller is a member of the St. Louis Writers Guild.  She was one of the writers whose work was featured in the anthology Storm Country, and was one of the talented twelve who made it into the Fifty Shades of Santa collection. She also is out there.

      But two of our group's members are elusive creatures. They are like those albino blind newts that live in caves. They were rarely sighted. Rumors are whispered about them, but no one is quite sure--what is fact and what is fiction?

     Here is what people are all frothing-at-the-mouth about. An expose' on Beth M. Wood, a founding member of the WWWPs.

      To put her into perspective, I am going to compare her to me (and everybody knows me):

      Beth                          Me

*  uses My Fitness Pal to remember         *  used My Fitness Pal for three  
    to eat enough                                        hours to try not to eat too much;
                                                                no instant weight loss meant I
                                                                tossed it aside

*  when she's really amused, she            * when I snort-laugh, people wonder
    snorts, and it's endearing                      what farm animal has broken out
                                                               of the barn

*  wears clothes that are in the               *  wears clothes that no longer have
    single digits--the LOW single                   numbers on the label--instead,
    single digits                                           clever euphemisms like "Queenly"
                                                                and "Cruise Ship" indicate the size

*  is 5'11'' in her bare feet                      *  is 5'5" in her Crocs

*  wears stylish belts around her              * wears tummy-control pantyhose
    tiny waist                                              like they're a boa constrictor

*  has long, dark-blonde hair                     * well, I do have hair...The color?
                                                                Let me find that box I just threw
                                                                away.

*  was excited when--on the                     * was excited when I found a box of
    eve of a horrible snowstorm--                  brownie mix in the cupboard
    she found out they WERE having
    exercise boot camp the next
    morning

* has boobs, and both of them                   *  has boobs--they're now
   are where they're supposed to                    divining rods
   be

*  is full after eating a tiny portion               * is full of **it when she says,
    of Lynn's lasagna                                      No more, thanks. I'm full,"
                                                                   when in reality she'd like to
                                                                   eat all six servings and then
                                                                   lick the plate clean

Beth M. Wood, at a book signing in December 2012
She has been published in several Chicken Soup for the Soul collections, in Sasee
along with many other publications

        The next time you see a tall, thin blonde writer, with a smile like Julia Roberts, you now can--with confidence--go up and say, "Hi, Beth." 

         But don't count on it happening too soon. After all, Beth hides in her lair, taking care of her young'uns and in her precious free time, is busy sending off writing submissions. The sightings of Beth are rare. But at least you know a few things about her now.

        (And Tammy, as you probably already suspect, you're the topic of my next expose.)

A Missing "Piece"

        Yesterday evening was WWWP night. The evening where five fierce writers gather, their writing pieces in hand, and critique and support and snort and snark.

      Ooops, last night there was one of the WWWPs missing in action. A bad cold had kept her home, overdosing on zinc.

       Since Tammy was the one who was MIA, and since she is our resident Grammar *itch, we all scrambled to fill in for her. Where do those commas belong? How about that apostrophe--what is the most accepted placement? We did our best, but fell short. Not only did we miss her deft touch, we missed her writing voice.

      I had seen a grammar pen, and mentioned it to my fellow WWWPs, but since no one believed me, I'm including a link. It vibrates when an error is made, which--in our group--led to some wild digression.

       As writers, when something is missing, we know it. Succintness. A strong ending. A hook at the beginning. When we get the story down, then we can attend to the missing components.

       Last night, except for Tammy, nothing was missing. Apparently Elvis had not left the building. Lynn shared a story she had written quite a while ago about a trip with "Elvis," which proved that a good storyteller's stories have great bones, no matter how ancient the story is.

      Linda brought a story about the WWWPs. In not many words, she had captured the flavor and the evolution of our group.

      And Beth...Beth has written a story that is honest and raw, exposing her vulnerability. She took a Chicken Soup theme and has condensed it down it its very essence.

      Tammy, you had better be over your cold in two weeks. You had better get off your butt and join us. We missed you. When a piece is missing, there's a void...a void that a vibrating pen could not fill.

Not-Good Friends (When It Comes to Writing)

         I have a writing friend, a founding member of the WWWP. I'll call her Lynnette (not her reall name) so the guilty can be protected.

         Lynnette shared a romance story that she's working on; reading it made me mad as a cat being given a bath. I guess she was taking Tammy's place. Tammy was MIA last night at our critique meeting, and she is the one who regularly pulls mind-blowing (or butt-blowing) things out of her sphincter. So perhaps I should give "Lynnette" some slack; maybe she was just channeling our missing member...

Okay, I lied. "Lynnette" doesn't deserve to be protected. If you see this woman,
bow down as you simultaneously hiss at her.

         Why was I spitting mad? One, I dislike romance stories, but I loved this one.

         Two, the voice (of a male narrator) was so vivid and dead-on, I was jealous. I kept trying to put a writing curse on her with my evil looks ("May your pencil run out of lead and all your pens leak out all their ink," and "May your cat Smeagol get 'cat-scratch fever' and tear up all your empty journals and copy paper.") as I read her story, but I'm sure it didn't work. Her story reminded me of why I love Stephen King's Delores Claiborne--the voice of the narrator is so chillingly clear, it's as if that character has come alive and is speaking to the reader.

         "Lynnette" said, (to make me even more furious) "I think this will be my last romance," and "I hate writing fiction." And why, I asked. If you get out of your box and find you have talent, why stop? Continue to write your 'tried and true" but also continue to take frequent steps out of your box.

         What is outside of your box that has resulted in some success? Share, and if you have time tomorrow, stop by The Muffin and leave a comment. I've got some recycling (for writing) tips...

         

Lucky 2013

        I was reminded by a comment Linda O'Connell left on Val's blog that, as June Carter sang, "Time's a wastin'." (If I punctuated that incorrectly, I will have to rely on the "Grammar -itch" in my critique group to help me out and correct me.)

photo by Joo Joo
Linda O'Connell is known as one our local Chicken Soup for the Soul Queens.
Now, she's threatening to become a NYMB Queen, and has been steadily submitting to those collections.
She must be stopped at all costs!

        Linda smugly honestly informed Val that it was January 4 and she had already sent out 36 submissions in 2013. She then challenged Val to a duel. I am sure that sometime soon, blood was fall. Or spittle will spray. Or gray hair will be yanked out. Or maybe...feathers will fly.

          Since I am better at dividing than multiplying, I have this number sentence for you. 6 divided by 2 = 3.

          It's January 6 and I've already sent out 3 new submissions to the Not Your Mother's Book anthologies.

              How about you? What have you done as a writer since the new year began?

Huey, Hilarity and Hub-bub

        Huey has been with us since the beginning of September. Because he's a senior foster dog, we figured we'd have Huey until he died. After all, it takes special people to take on an elderly dog. You never know if you have weeks...or or months...or years...with an old dog. You just know that whatever time you do have, it will be "golden" time when it comes to that dog's heart. Animals know when they have a second chance at life, and are so grateful...

     It seems a family is interested in Huey. He may be leaving us soon. It will be bittersweet if that happens, because no other dog has gotten along so well with Foley as Huey. Although his picture does not show it, Huey has a lot of life left in him. He plays ball, will even jump up in the air for it, and does an excited series of left turns when it's meal time or when we come home. So, we may have to bid adieu to Huey soon...

     As far as hilarity, last night was our WWWP night. All of us were snorting last night (usually Beth is our prime snorter). Linda O'Connell shared an Alaska story with us; she is writing a series of memoir pieces that is sure to be a blockbuster when she's finished. They are poignant. They are gripping. They are snortingly hilarious. Last time, we critiqued a piece that had us all on the edge of our seats. Imagine a trip in the dark along an ice-covered mountainous area, and having to back up, each time sliding closer and closer to the edge (and the drop off). A can of Coca Cola saved the day. Intrigued? You'll have to wait until the manuscript is finished and published. The story we read last night was about a character who was bigger than life (in more ways than one), and yet Linda swears she was not exaggerating at all.

    Lynn Obermoeller shared a story about boogers. Yep, boogers. It was the kind of story that included a twist--you thought it was about one thing, but then it made a sharp left turn and left us all satisfied. Laughing. Thinking about past relationships. And connecting to our childhood. 

   And this is hot off the press--Lynn is going to read her Fifty Shades of Santa story at a local gelato place on Grand on December 17 in the evening. (It's at the corner of Grand and Wyoming.) The time has not been determined but more details will follow. Lynn was only one of 12 writers who were accepted into this anthology. Linda and I were gnashing our teeth because we did not make the cut All of the WWWPs congratulated her. 

    And what's with all the hub-bub? What's behind the flurry of press releases, and extra police patrols, and security gates being installed? Who is responsible for all this frenzied excitement? Val, of course. Val is supposedly coming to St. Louis on Saturday for a rare appearance. It's for a good cause. You bring a canned good (or two, or a box) and get a discount on your books. And you might get a glimpse of the elusive Val. If you would like more details, go here.     

    

Chicken Soupers Are Signing Books

    A whole flock of St. Louis/St. Charles Chicken Soup writers are signing books on December 8. Bring in some canned goods, get your books signed, chat with some witty women and get a discount on your purchases. It's a win-win situation.

     See the schedule below:
    

 

10-12 AM, All on the Same Page

11052 Olive Blvd., Creve Coeur, Missouri, 314-567-4144 http://www.allonthesamepagebookstore.com/

 Nina Miller, Theresa Sanders and T’Mara Goodsell will be the featured authors. (Tammy is a founding member of the notorious WWWP writing critique group.)

 

Have a quick lunch and then head to St. Charles--just barely over the bridge...

 

 

1-3 PM, Main Street Books

307 South Main Street, St. Charles, MO 63301, 636-949-0105 http://www.mainstreetbooks.net/

 

Cathi LaMarche, Linda O'Connell, Lynn Cahoon and Pat Wahler will be available for conversation, and they'll be thrilled to sign your books. (Linda is one of the 5 founding members of the famed WWWPs.)
 

Buy some fudge (for medicinal purposes only)  on Main Street, and then head to The Book House... 

4-6 PM, The Book House

9719 Manchester Rd., St. Louis, MO 314-968-4491 http://www.bookhousestl.com/

Beth M. Wood, Donna Duly Volkenannt and Sioux Roslawski (me)will be busy fending off our frothing-at-the-mouth fans as we collect canned goods and sign books. (Beth and I are also founding members of the infamous St. Louis writing critique group, the WWWPs.)

And if you're as reclusive a writer as J.D. Salinger (Val? Are you listening?), you can come and chat, and you'll know who we are but we won't know who you are. You'll be able to see us in a captive setting...

 

 

 

Dianna Graveman's Magical Breasts

      Get an image of Dianna Graveman in your head. Super-smart. Uber-talented. Co-editor of two Not Your Mother's Book anthologies. Owner of her own editing and design business. Got it?

     Now, imagine that her breasts are able to win a gold medal in a target practice. Imagine they can aim and hit a bullseye across a table. Imagine they are capable of shifting the way people think, the way people perceive things.

This collection includes stories from Tammy Goodsell (her story is the first one, and darn it, they included a photo of her
in her pajama jeans, and she promised it was a terrible picture but of course, she looked cute as a button), Linda O'Connell, Alice Muschany, Mary Horner, Dianna Graveman and moi...

 When I read the stories written by my writing friends, I enjoyed them all.  They were all witty and well-written. However, when I read Dianna's story, I was lucky I was not drinking milk at the time. Otherwise, I would have snorted it out of my nose. The ending is hilarious, and it made me have a completely different opinion of Dianna.

How about NaNoWriMo? Are you doing it? If so, what is your story about? Share, please...



 

Better Than a Rottweiler...

        The days are cooling off, which means--in our neighborhood--a flood of Jehovah's Witnesses will start their knocking anew. I apologize if you are of that faith, but since you wouldn't let me rollerblade on your parking lot, I don't want you on my front stoop.

      Often, signs on the door do nothing to deter. Neither do dogs. But Tammy comes rushing to the rescue. She has the perfect assortment of signage; you choose the message, the style, and she'll handcraft them to match your home's motif.

      What kind of message can you send to bothersome door-knockers? Check them out here.

      Also, I recently got news that two (which means I need to use two fingers, and not just my all-time favorite one) of my stories will appear in Not Your Mother's Book on Dogs--"A Power Higher Than the Law" and "Heart of Pure Gold." Kathleene Baker has been a delightful editor to work with. She's bent over backwards to ensure that 1) enough details were changed in one of the stories so I wouldn't be thrown into jail (I committed a felony) and 2) I was happy with any changes/cuts that were made. I was actually looking forward to some time in prison--unlimited time to read, no lesson plans to write, no cooking or cleaning to do--but that will have to wait for another day.

       This was my turn to crow. How 'bout you?  What do you want to shout from the rooftops? It could be writing-related, or it could be something along the lines of, "I am so proud, my buttons are about to pop off. I ate only half of the bag of Dove chocolates, instead of the whole freakin' bag. What's that you say? You think it's my poochy gut and not my pride that's causing my buttons to fly off like missiles? Why, you little..."

        Go ahead. Yell it, scream it, whisper it. We're listening...

Why Write?

 a Savage Chickens cartoon by Doug Savage

      Doug Savage, over at Savage Chickens, almost always makes me laugh. He draws wonderful cartoons, usually featuring chickens, and he does it all on post-it notes. Amazing!

       And while I chuckled, I wondered...Why indeed? Why do we write? It rarely pays--or doesn't pay much--and it can be incredibly frustrating and time-consuming. So why do we continue sitting down to a blank page day after day?

       Of course, if you're Pearl, you write because you have 1.8 million followers (and every day, 217 more add themselves to the list). She manages to conjure incredibly hilarious urban tales about riding the bus and her cubicle mates and her cats. If she didn't post, a disgruntled mob would rise up and wreak havoc.

          If you're Fireblossom or Mama Zen, who write mind-blowing, teeth-gnashing poetry (you gnash your teeth because you didn't write it), you write because...well, I guess they write because they must. Their words and their thoughts must be like a geyser that has to find a way to vent. (And if you're Marcia Gaye, another poet friend of mine, you write because you're so good at it and you win local and state poetry contests. (Has the madness gone beyond Missouri, Marcia? Let me know...)

      If you're Val, you write because the're a geyser inside of you, too, but it's a geyser of snarkiness. I think, if Val did not write, one of her kids or her bumbling husband or  one of the goats or chickens would...well, I think something unexpectedly horrific would happen to them. Plus, she likes to flaunt her knowledge of Seinfeld (she and I often have duels, but she is always the victor), along with every other television show, movie and song that's ever been written.

      If you're Donna Volkenannt, you write because you have to keep your pen limber for the next international Erma Bombeck humor contest. (She was the most recent winner.) Or the next anthology to come out. When a collection comes out, you'll invariably find a story by Donna.

     If you're Linda O'Connell, a fellow WWWP, you write because your keyboard's on fire. Linda has a writing goal, and she's burning to achieve it. (Ask her what the goal is. She might tell you.)

    And if you're one of the other WWWPs (Wild Women Wielding Pens)--Lynn Obermoeller, T'Mara Goodsell, or Beth M. Wood--you write because you're prodded and encouraged and cajoled and begged to write. The five of us support each other and keep each other on the writing path...

      Doug Savage, on his little biographical page, spoke about being an artist. He said, "Creativity is a bit like a stubborn weed that won’t die: the roots run deep enough that it will keep growing back under the right conditions."

        What simile would you use to describe the writing process or creativity? Or, what are the "roots" of your writing like? 



Make Good Art

         I have a few friends relatives who forward me emails. You know the type of forwards. There are always prancing puppies or cavorting kittens. Sometimes the flowers sing and sway. And there's usually some message like, "You were sent this email because you are a beautiful person, so send it to 10 more beautiful people whoblahblahblah." Yikes.

        When one of the WWWPs, Lynn, sent me this link, I knew it didn't have any frolicking flowers, because Lynn is razor sharp and encouraging and doesn't get mired up in muck like that, but I also didn't check it out. Too busy with other things, perhaps. But I chalk it up to an innate sense of timing instead.

         Because I didn't need it then.

         A post or two ago, I whined a little a lot about having publication envy. But the final ba-da-bing came when another one of the WWWPs, Tammy, reminded me of it. So I went back and watched it.

        Yes, it's almost 20 minutes long but just like Lynn said, it's worth it. For anyone who sometimes stumbles along their creative journey, for every artist, I think this will strike a chord and resonate inside of them, as well as remind them.

        And if you do enjoy it, thank Lynn. She's the one with the foresight...

Neil Gaiman's Commencement Speech

Another Fairy Tale

           Once upon a time in a land far, far away there lived a community of writers. Each one of them had their own little castle, and met every evening so they could chat, procrastinate about writing, and sip beverages.

photo by Gary Shield Photography

         "Aaah, a community," you might say, and you perhaps envision a group of writers who only had altruistic intentions. Thoughtful authors. Collaborative creatives. 

         You'd be wrong.

         Just like in Chuck Palahniuk's brilliant (but twisted) book Haunted, these writers tried to sabotage each other...in creative ways.

          Some of the sneakiness involved food. Fireblossom got the whole kit and kaboodle hooked on Bolthouse Farms Vanilla Chai Tea. One evening she brought several bottles and soon, every single one of those writers was bellying up to the upturned, empty jugs like guinea pigs at their water bottle, desperately trying to get the last drop. Lynn served up some spaghetti (a la Nora Ephron) and everyone gorged themselves. Tammy whipped up some stuffed tomatoes (Oh, how healthy? Au contraire.) that made even one writer swear off her decade-long avoidance of pork and beef as she stuffed them into her gaping piehole. (Later, this writer could be found hiding in a corner, with mayonnaise smeared around her mouth, mumbling, "Bacon...yum.") Even Donna Volkenannt
brought to the table a potato salad recipe. After everyone tried it in their own little castle's kitchen, they all looked like potatoes...

        Some of the sabotage centered around diversion.  Beth would regale the group with tales about her travels. South America. Australia. Her beauty (tall, skinny bitch) along with her hypnotizing stories got all the writers off track. Val would lure her colleagues into her blog, baiting them with wry, pointed posts and then would hook them again...because as her followers are well aware of, Val's replies to comments are just as amusing as her posts are. Lisa was another one of those diversionary ones. She'd rent kids, claim they were her own (even though she clearly was too thin and too young to have spawned the grown-up rent-a-kids) and then host a brilliant meme, Book Blurb Friday.  

        And some of the stealth and sneaky goings-on had to do with blinding their fellow writers. 

        Donna won the Erma Bombeck contest, and she'd flash that eight-foot tall trophy at you like she was sending signals across the canyon to the Lone Ranger. Linda always had--in her pocket-- a list of the publications who had sent her an acceptance letter that day, and after reading the seemingly neverending list, her colleagues couldn't see straight. And speaking of straight...You wished you weren't after reading Fireblossom's daily serving up of poetry. She does it all--blazing hot love poems, hilarious stabs at society, channeling of Emily Dickinson. The lady's way too mercurial... 

        Some of the authors living in this community resorted to old school medieval fun. Cathy C. Hall would keep her fellow writers from writing by jousting and challenging other punsters to duels. She'd unsheath Cathy-on-a-Stick and threaten the other writers.

photo by Sioux

        And finally, there was a musical duet to divert us. Lynn and Tammy would whine play a sad song on their tiny violins. In perfect harmony they would sing, "Thisisawful-Itispurecrap-Don'tyoufallasleep." The chorus was, "Mywritingstinks-It'sreallynothing-Helpmehelpmeplease." (And they never even served any cheese with that whine.)

        And since it's a fairy tale community, do these writers live happily ever after? Why don't you finish the book you're currently reading, and once you've read the last word on the last page, ask yourself "Was I moved?"

        'Cause writers have that power. They can do that. They can move you. And while that doesn't make it all happy, it makes it all good...

                                             The End

Pearl. Shay. Donna. Tammy. Val. Lisa. Force It---A Little

        I submitted a story about my dog Trixie to NYMB. The co-creator, Kathleene Baker, spit an email right back at me. She had read my submission quickly, and immediately sent me a very helpful (and encouraging) message.

       Pearl, I know you have cats but do you have any dog stories? Shay, I know you have some Bosco tales to tell. Donna--I imagine you have at least one dog memoir up your sleeve. Tammy, you have gazillions of canine tales. Val--you can give us a rollicking Juno escapade or two, can't you? Lisa, the weiner dogs are always the underdogs. And Lisa, you have Golden Retriever stories, too. The deadline is July 1.

      It seems the Not Your Mother's Books are looking for upbeat stories about dogs...whacky stories...funny stories. There is a children's novel entitled No More Dead Dogs, and the main character moans about the fact that if there is a dog's name in the title, don't read the book, because the dog will inevitably die during the story. (Think about it. Old Yeller. My Dog Skip. 'Tis true...)

       And my story definitely had a dead dog in it.

       Ooops. I am as bad as some of my students. I didn't do my homework very well, and apparently did not check the guidelines for this collection at all very well.

       Kathleene said if I rewrote it, and make the story "end" before our beloved Trixie died, they would reconsider it. If I wouldn't, they couldn't.

       Thrilled with a second chance, I worked on it for quite a while yesterday evening excited to do anything to avoid working on my report cards . But I got stuck. I wanted to make sure the "spackling" I did was seamless, and I had no idea how I was going to create a satisfying ending. I figured, I would let it sit for a few days. That's my normal MO.

     This morning, still trying to avoid working on report cards I still had nothing, so I didn't even plan on opening up the story and working on it. But something made me say to myself, 'Just try. You might come up with something.'

     And forcing myself--a little--to just reread the tale so far, and attempt to finish the revision resulted in me being able to finish the story---and submit it.

      Of course, Kathleene and NYMB might not like what I did with it. And that's cool. But I prodded myself--poked myself with a stick--and got it done.

      How about all my blogging colleagues who have a dog? What is stopping you from submitting? You have a little more than a month left...and as June Carter Cash sang it so well: "Time's a'wastin'."

     (I know. I promised the debut of Sioux-on-a-Stick with my next posting, but my life will be so less hectic this week after I stop avoiding the completion of my report cards finish my report cards. So Donna, stop holding your breath. She'll make her appearance...soon.)