Thanks Be to Thanksgiving Memes

I’ve been tagged for a meme, and you know what that means. *sigh* Unless I go along with it I will be labelled a party-pooper and meanie, and somewhere in the world, another soul will wink out of existence. So, ten things I am grateful for during American Thanksgiving week – which is not to imply I was any less grateful for them during Canadian Thanksgiving week, but merely Amy Bai had not sunk her claws into me yet. (Note: the even-numbered items must relate to writing.) 

1. My husband — because even though he doesn’t read fiction, and even though he rolls his eyes during the cinematic equivalent of what I write, he still tells me to keep at it. He keeps my computer working, puts up with my Jekyll/Hyde mood changes, and taught me love means far more than pretty words. Sounds funny for a romance writer, but dang it, he’s right on this one.

2. A writing friend of mine just sold a YA fantasy trilogy to HarperCollins. Courtney Allison Moulton, I may hate you because you’re young, beautiful, talented and already recognized by the publishing world, but I still want to be you when I grow up.  :)

The Hand that Stocks the Cradle

I’ve been thinking a lot about Harlequin Horizons, and wondering why some people don’t seem to understand the thorny ethical issues it raises. Then it occurred to me a medical metaphor might further the discussion. Specifically, since so many of us equate producing a manuscript to giving birth to a child, why not use one about pregnancy? 

So imagine if you will, that we live in a time where infertility is rife. Even if a woman manages to get pregnant, genetic abnormalities have made miscarriages commonplace. With best practices – a good diet, regular exercise and avoiding toxic substances – the odds of delivering a healthy newborn are still less than one percent. 

Now let’s put you in the body of one woman – legs spread apart, steel speculum in your vagina as Dr. Harlequin examines your uterus. You’ve come to him because he’s the man who delivers more than half the healthy babies in your town. He’s reputed to know when a pregnancy is viable, too, so you hold your breath as you await the verdict. And your world tilts at the too-calm, too-professional expression on his face.

SFWA Response to Harlequin’s Position

For anyone who missed it, here’s a link to the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America response to the formation of Harlequin Horizons:

http://www.sfwa.org/2009/11/sfwa-statement-on-harlequins-self-publishing-imprint/

The essence:

Harlequin’s Response to RWA’s Decision

For those of you who may not have access to the communication Harlequin sent to their authors earlier this evening, here is the e-mail:

A Lobstick Post

First I came down with the ‘flu, and writing this blog took a distinct secondary role to things like…oh, breathing. But I’ve been better for a few days now.

Then I had to catch up from being sick — laundry, groceries, getting pet food in the house.

Then came the world’s discovery that Matt Bomer is a rapidly rising sex symbol. (heh) Thanks to Laura Kinsale and my commitment to my critique partner, I was ahead of the curve on this one, and my blog became hit zone central for Matt Bomer photos. (Is it just me, or does anyone else not see the word “boner” every time they read his name? And do you suppose that was that a purposeful choice?)

Sarah Palin Redux

I planned to put this post up tomorrow, on the auspicious occasion of Sarah Palin’s memoir release, Going Rogue, but I’m still feeling under the weather. For those of you who may not yet have read “Dirty, Sexy Pipelines”, or who may now require a Sarah Palin antidote, here’s a link to a piece I did a while back:

http://cherrytart.wordpress.com/dirty-sexy-pipelines/

Please accept this as my Monday offering.

 

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Musings Whilst Hyped-Up on Cough Syrup

I’m sick, peeps. It’s just the ‘flu, but as my first in several years, it’s kicking my butt. In fact, were it not for our security system, I might believe we had been overrrun bygremlins, and that they spent the last many hours poking me with the bristle end of a broom. 

I hurt. My fingers hurt. Even the few hairs on my knuckles seem to protest as I type this. They say that they’ve already run a marathon, that you’ll understand if I don’t make my blogging schedule.

How Do You Measure a Writing Year?

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how I’ll define success in writing, especially since there are so few short-term external rewards. And I love the song “Seasons of Love” from the movie Rent. With apologies to the original composer, I’ve bastardized the lyrics for a bit of fun. If you’re not familiar with the melody, or just want to listen to it as you try the words out, the video is embedded below.

Symmetry – One Writing Mom’s Appreciation for Story in Life

I love book-ending in fiction — that practice where characters must face their touchstone issue at both beginning and ending of the novel, in contextually similar circumstances. I think it’s a brilliant way to demonstrate a completed character arc, and many of my favorite books use this technique.  

What I hadn’t observed is how often my life follows the same pattern.  But it does, you know. If you get in the habit  of noticing.

Please Help Organize My Computer Files

You know my promise of late? The one that said I would take my pointy, right-sided brain firmly in hand, and retrain it to play nicely with my left? Hahahahaha! 

Yes, peeps, that’s code for “I need your help”. (Either that, or a wife — which is possible in this country, you know. Same-sex marriages have been legal in Canada for over two years. Interestingly, we haven’t become Sodom and Gomorrah North, though I’ll concede we’re in early days of the experiment). 

But I digress. The clue I’m in trouble? This sticky note, pasted electronically to my monitor, courtesy of my children and the new Windows 7:

A Charitable Cause

Gentle Reader, can you find it in your heart to help another writer in need? Particularly if your aid doesn’t require a financial transaction?

Before you commit yourself, I should explain.

A few weeks ago, one of my critique partners entered the blogosphere and as her first act, settled on an avatar for her muse. Blog tradition was born.  

And now, come rain or shine, Monday morning sees Dawn hard at work selecting a hunky guy for the week’s inspiration. The problem? She’s running short of candidates.

Happy Halloween Linkage

Every wondered what happened to your milk teeth? Well someone’s already got that covered in this cute and awesome blog I learned about from twitter. Check it out. The link will lead you to a Halloween-themed post.

My Milk Toof Blogspot

No Longer Hostage to the Un-News

There’s a Thich Nhat Hanh parable I love:  A man goes for a walk and returns to find his shutters blown open and his important papers awhirl throughout the room.

Q: What should his reaction be?
A: Close the window first, of course. Then tidy.

In this story, the room represents our mind; and the wind, outside forces that create chaos. The lesson we are to learn is to determine which things pull us out of serenity, then shut them out of our lives for a time. At least until we possess a decent paperweight.  

Murphy’s Law, As It Applies To Writers

1.  Your internet connection will go down on the day of your deadline.

 2.  Printers will run out of ink the night of your critique group meeting. 

3.  The day your sex scene is being critiquing will be the day you’ll run into your former boss at the restaurant. It goes without saying you are dressed in your shabbiest clothing and he/she glances down at your pages, then freezes.

Eleven Embarrassing Things about Me

1. My favorite winter pyjamas are made of pink fleece and decorated with skiing polar bears.

2. I loved Neil Diamond well before Glee reminded the rest of you he made cool music. (Longfellow’s Serenade = swoon)